by Vivian Wood
“And for you?” the server turned to Penny. She ordered a salad, as Ryan guessed she would. He'd never understood that. At the wedding he went to with Poppy last year, there was a sign at the open bar. No great love story ever began with someone eating a salad. He couldn’t agree more, yet it was almost always the go-to order for women on a first date.
“I’ll have the number nine,” Ryan said.
“Sir, that serves three people.”
“Okay,” Ryan said.
“Oh! Are you all sharing?”
“Uh, I mean, I guess everyone can try some if they want,” Ryan said. He smiled at Penny, “I have a feeling the Cajun tacos are going to be a little more filling than your rabbit food.” Penny giggled, and he relaxed. It was the first real reaction he’d pulled out of her.
When the food came, the waiter pushed together a pair of the small, square two-seaters to make room for Ryan’s spread. “Ryan!” Poppy exclaimed with a laugh.
“This is ridiculous,” Will muttered under his breath.
“Sorry, Will, can you speak up? Can’t hear you over here,” Ryan said.
“Nothing,” Will said. He pulled Poppy close to him and handfed her a small oyster from his plate.
“You know I don’t like these much,” she said, but she swallowed after two quick bites.
Will took her chin and kissed her while Penny furtively looked anywhere but at the couple across from her. “But I do,” he said.
“Yeah, well, you eat them, then,” Poppy said. She turned back to her own plate of gnocchi in wine sauce.
“I’d rather eat them off you,” Will said. Ryan could see that his hand had slipped dangerously low under the table. He could only imagine where that hand was inching. Poppy slapped at her lap.
“Knock it off, I’m eating,” she said.
Ryan worked through his first plate, then the next. At first, he offered each dish to Penny. After the first few times, she started nodding at him. He generally didn’t like to share, but knew it was rude to let his date continue to munch on nothing but rainbow chard.
When Ryan offered Penny calamari from the third plate, she held up her hand. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m sure it’s amazing, but I’m stuffed.” Her eyes widened as she watched Ryan happily polish off the plate in a few big bites.
“I know,” Poppy said to Penny, who didn’t need to say a word. “It’s amazing how much he eats. I always wonder where it all goes!”
“It goes to the eight miles I ran yesterday, and the eight miles I’ll run before bed tonight,” Ryan said as he wiped up the remainder of the rich sauce with the side of baguette he’d ordered. “And that’s not counting the weights I'll lift.”
“Don’t be modest on our behalf or anything,” Will said. “I mean, it’s not like you interrupted a special dinner at a fancy restaurant or anything, so please. Do tell us more about your gym routine.” Will had neatly patted his lips and pushed his half-eaten plate away.
“Nah, I’m good,” Ryan said. “Why are you so interested in men’s gym regimens, anyway? You know, I think there are websites for that—”
“Oh, hush, both of you,” Poppy said. “Change of subject. Please. Hey, Ryan, I ran into Mr. Stott the other day.”
“No shit, really? I haven’t thought about him since senior year.”
“Hey, language!” she said. She gave him a mock shake of the finger, but he knew her well enough to know there was some authenticity in it.
“Sorry, Miss Modesty,” he said. “What’s he up to?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I pretended not to know who he was when he said hi to me in the store. It was too awkward. Plus I was covered in some kid’s vomit.”
Will groaned. “Lovely dinner conversation, Poppy.”
Ryan laughed. “The last time I remember seeing him, it was actually pretty cool. He was in charge of ‘babysitting’ us before we headed out for Senior Send-Off, and let us watch Star Wars instead of working on essays like we were supposed to.”
“Oh, wow. You know, I think I’d rather write an essay than watch that geek fodder.” Poppy smiled as she picked up her glass of rosé.
“Geek fodder? I’m sorry we’re not all as classy as you and don’t watch The Notebook on repeat.”
“Hey! The Notebook is good! Back me up, Penny,” Poppy said.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen it,” Penny said.
“I’m sorry, but as a screenwriter, I really can’t put up with everyone talking about these crap ‘films,’ if you can call them that,” Will interjected.
“Seriously, Will, lighten up,” Poppy said. “We’re just talking.”
Will pushed his oversized, thick-framed glasses up his nose. The movement didn’t shift how his eyes looked at all. Are those even prescription? Ryan wondered.
“I’m sorry,” Will said, without an ounce of honesty. “But I did ask you to dinner to discuss my new project. And suddenly we’re on some kind of mockery of a double date.”
“Mockery?” Poppy said. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing,” Will said with a sigh.
“You know, we’d be happy to hear about your project. But we’re not going to beg you,” she said.
“Hmm,” Will said. “You know, I think someone needs to teach you some manners.” His words were already slurred, but it took both Ryan and Penny by surprise when Will grabbed Poppy’s head and plunged his tongue down her throat. Penny gasped beside Ryan.
“Will!” Poppy yelled. She shoved him off of her and the restaurant, loud as it was with people talking, quieted down. All eyes were on their table. “I’m—I’m sorry about all this,” she told them all as she gathered her belongings. “I’m sorry!” she called out to the restaurant. Table by table, everyone was slowly starting to get back to their own dinner.
“Poppy,” Will started. “Don’t make a sce—”
“A scene? You think I’m the one making a scene? I’m sorry, you guys,” she said to Ryan and Penny. “I—I have an early day tomorrow. I think it’s best if I head out now.”
“How are you going to get home? I drove you—”
“You know, I think I can figure it out,” she snapped at Will. “Goodnight, all.”
“’Night,” Ryan said quietly. Penny echoed her own goodbye after him.
Will stood up and slammed the chair against the table before leaving without another word.
“You know, it is getting late. I should probably be going, too…” Penny said hesitantly.
“Can I give you a ride home? I just have a motorcycle, but—” Ryan began to say.
“No, no! It’s okay. I drove myself,” Penny said.
“Oh. That’s good. I mean, it’s good you didn’t ride with them…”
“Yeah,” she said. “Well. Thanks. For meeting me.” She hurriedly walked away.
“Yeah, sure,” he said to her retreating back.
“Should I leave this with you?” The server appeared with a single bill in his hand.
“Sure. Why not?” Ryan said. He was still nursing his one and only beer of the night.
What in the hell did Poppy see in that asshole?
5
Poppy
“Will! What was that tonight? I can’t believe you—”
“Me? What's wrong with me? You’re the one who ambushed me and invited all these people when I explicitly asked you out and said there was something important—”
“You know what? Just forget it.” Poppy sat down on Will’s tufted gray couch that perfectly matched the striped lounge chair while also complementing the brass-trimmed coffee table. It looked like it was out of a magazine on how to be an uptight jerk. Or from the guy’s place in Fight Club.
Yeah. Probably more like that. She had a headache. She knew she should have stopped at her usual one glass of wine, but sometimes Will had a way of making her want a second just to numb his incessant nagging.
“I’m not going to forget it,” Will said. Of course you won’t. “And do you want to
know why?” No. “Come on, ask me why, Poppy.”
“Okay, why, Will?” Maybe if she appeased him he’d shut up.
“Because you’re in love with that asshole, that’s why.” She stiffened at the word “asshole.” She hated that word; it sounded like something her father would say.
“Who are you talking about?” she asked.
“My God, Ryan, Poppy, who else do you think I’m talking about? The waiter?”
She was dumbstruck. “Ryan? You’re jealous of Ryan? You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m not,” he said. He shook his head and sat down in the chair, clutching a glass of scotch. “And honestly? I can’t even be surprised. It’s impossible to compete with that much history.”
“We met when we were kids,” she said. Why was she having to justify herself to him? Justify her friendship? “We’ve barely seen each other as adults. What with my being in med school and him in the SEALs—”
“Yeah, that’s another thing,” Will said as he took a swallow of the amber liquid. “The whole badass, ‘I’m a Navy SEAL, don’t fuck with me’ thing he’s got going on.” Poppy cringed. Some words stung her like a wasp.
“It’s not like that,” she said. “He doesn’t even talk about the war unless—”
“Oh my God, war,” Will said. “His whole beatdown, underdog hero shtick is disgusting. Straight out of a crap screenplay if I ever saw it. And you,” he said as he took another drink. “You just lap it all up.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“Invited him to our dinner, for starters! Drug along poor, plain Penny so it didn’t look so obvious. That shy girl was in way over her head thanks to you.”
Poppy hadn’t even thought about that. She supposed maybe she had used Penny to try and soften the dinner a little bit. Make it not so awkward. But she'd thought Penny would be grateful! Everyone thought Ryan was hot. Penny didn’t seem like the type to go on many dates, after all. “Maybe you’re right,” she said slowly.
“What was that?” Will leaned back in his chair. A smile played at his lips.
“I said maybe you’re right. But I—I wasn’t thinking of it like that. It’s not like it was some mastermind plot or anything.”
“I didn’t think you had some major strategy to play with everyone’s emotions,” Will said. “But if you’d just stop and think for once, about anyone besides yourself… like me for example…”
“Will, I’m sorry,” she said. “Truly. I didn’t—I guess I’ve been kind of selfish lately.”
“And it’s not just about Ryan. It’s work, too. You’re always either at work, talking about work, or sleeping because you’re too tired from work. Honestly Poppy, it’s like you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
“I’m sorry, Will. Seriously. It’s just—I don’t know. I’ll try to do better.” She caught herself before she could say it was work that was stressing her out. She didn’t get it. All throughout med school, he’d acted like he was so proud of her. When did he change? Or is it me?
He sighed. “I’d like to believe you,” he said. “I’ll try, but it’s hard when it’s been like this for so long.”
For so long? She hadn’t even been an intern for six months yet. “I know,” she said carefully. “I’m putting work before everything else.”
He shrugged and looked out the window. Childish. But at least he seems to have gotten off the Ryan kick.
“So, tell me now,” she said.
“Tell you what?”
She sighed. I guess I’ll have to drag it out of him. “About your big news. I want to hear it.”
“Oh, do you, now?”
“Will, please,” she said.
“Alright, alright, if you insist. Remember that script I wrote two years ago? The one about the lesbian teens in Iran? It’s been optioned by Netflix.” He sank back into his chair like it was no big deal.
“Oh my gosh! Will, that’s awesome! Amazing! I’m so proud of you.” She jumped up from the couch and sat on the armchair beside him. His hands, the ones that had been all over her at dinner all night, didn’t move from his glass.
“It’s not that big a deal,” he said. “It’s just an option, not a guarantee or anything. Probably nothing will come of it.”
If it’s not that big a deal, and nothing will probably come of it, then why are you throwing such a hissy fit? “Oh, no,” she said. “I’m sure it’ll work out. Your work is incredible.”
“Poppy,” he said slowly. The ice cubes clinked in the crystal tumbler. “Do you even know what getting optioned means?”
She didn’t, and she hated being tested. Do you know what chronic atypical neutrophilic dermatosis with lipodystrophy and elevated temperature syndrome is? she wanted to ask. He talked to her like she was an idiot. She was the doctor, not him. “Not exactly…”
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Jesus, Poppy, you get all excitable over the stupidest things, and you don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Will, I don’t know what you want me to say. Do you want me to be happy about this, or…”
“What do I want you to say? To feel? I want you to take an interest in my work for once,” he said. He set the sweaty glass down on the table without even using a coaster. “I don’t want my girlfriend to feel like she needs directions on how to act when I tell her things about my work.”
“Well I’m sorry! I’m sorry I don’t know what an option is. You acted like it was this big deal, and then—”
“You certainly don’t act sorry,” he said as he cut her off. “I’m tired. I have to take an early flight to LA to meet about all of this.”
“You’re leaving? Oh, okay. Well, I guess…”
“Are you going to be here when I get back later this week? Or are you going to stay at your place?”
She had no desire to stay at his place with the idyllic, curated bookshelves and the dark wooden floors that magically never showed a speck of dust. Still, she was never certain what he wanted her to do. Sometimes it seemed like he wanted her to stay, and they’d doze off on the couch together. Other times, it was like he couldn’t get rid of her fast enough. It was a guessing game, and she was too tired to try to win.
“I’m not sure…”
He rolled his eyes. “Look, if you stay, it’s really important that you keep everything as it is. I know you like to sprawl out when you’re back from a shift, but it’s vital to my creative process that my space is—”
“I think I’ll go home,” she said.
“Are you sure?” It wasn’t really a question.
“I’m sure,” she said.
“Great, see you at the end of the week.” He didn’t lean up for a kiss, and she certainly wasn’t going to offer.
“Okay. Sorry. Again. For everything,” she said as she stood up and pulled on her jacket.
“Make sure you shut the door all the way.”
As Poppy walked toward the elevator, her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket.
You okay? Put Mr. Cranky Pants to bed? Her face lit up immediately. Ryan had always had a knack for doing that. At least there was one man that wouldn’t be mad at her, no matter what. She wished Will got her like that.
I’m okay. He’s pouting and drinking. I’m heading home.
It’s late. You okay driving? Want me to come get you?
She let out a laugh as the elevator brought her to the private garage. Only Ryan would think it was safer to take her home at midnight on a motorcycle rather than her driving her little sedan twenty minutes home.
I’m good, she replied. Just wanna get home so I can wake up for 5:00 rounds.
5??? You doctors are crazy. She liked how Ryan would regularly squeeze in the fact she was a doctor. She certainly didn’t feel like it at the hospital. Interns were at the bottom of the totem pole. She got why, and there were doctors who had been at the hospital for decades. But nothing made her feel like all those years of schooling were pointless like standing around an annoyed patient and hav
ing a sixty-year-old doctor shoot questions at their cohort in an old school Socratic method.
Good thing we have mental therapists on call then, she texted to Ryan before she started home.
6
Ryan
He never got that runner’s high everyone talked about, but there was certainly something therapeutic in long runs. He wasn’t necessarily the fastest during his SEAL days, but instead squarely in the middle. However, he could pace like nobody’s business. That meant he was always in the lead, and it drove the five-minute milers insane.
“Boy, you looking good!” He waved, a tad embarrassed, at the elderly woman who seemed to constantly be watering her flowers every time he raced by. He’d made the mistake once of stopping and talking to her. He was certain she would chat for hours if given the chance.
“Ryan, I got your mail again.” His next door neighbor, a guy whose name he could never remember, called out to him.
“Slide it under my door?” he asked. “I gotta hit the weights before I lose my motivation.”
“You? Lose motivation?” His neighbor chuckled and slapped his own mound of a belly. “I don’t think missing a day of weights is going to hurt you.”
He powered through leg day. So fucking stupid going on a run before this. He knew guys on his team who were hardcore into strength training. They lifted first thing in the morning, fasted, then pounded protein and waited thirty minutes before cardio. He admired their dedication—and research skills—but didn’t see how they bulked up any different than the other guys. For Ryan, working out was always intuitive. He just did what felt good.
As he bounded upstairs, legs already strained from the grueling morning, he saw his neighbor had indeed stuck a hefty pile of mail under his door. Bills, junk, overdue notices. He shut them away in a kitchen drawer before he turned on the shower. Out of sight, out of mind might not be the best approach, but right now it’s the only option.