Shyly, but pleased, she admitted, "Feeling VERY self-conscious."
"You look great. Sexy."
Bo agreed with me. "I'm not sure this look is you, but it's definitely very sexy."
Ryan chimed in, overly-polite as always, "I'm sure I'm not supposed to notice, but ... good show."
Amane admitted, considering her options, "I might be able to try this at a club; a very crowded dark club. But I feel so exposed here. In the middle of the mall. In broad daylight."
I reassured her, "I don't know if you've noticed, but the guys are lovin' you. You’re a walkin’ wet dream."
“Whoa!” Amane reacted to my description. Then she asked me, "You remember when I asked if you would date me?"
Bo's head snapped toward us, suddenly at attention.
I replied, "Yep."
Before Bo had a chance to ask when this had happened, or why, Amane continued, "I didn't mean I 'wanted' to date you. What I meant was I wanted a guy's opinion. From a guy's perspective."
"I got that," I lied. I still wasn't sure what the truth was, but it didn't really matter. It was in the past either way.
Truth was funny like that. It could be spun over and over till the explanation had no bearing on the reality. Sometimes, in hindsight, the most logical lie sounded more sincere than the genuine truth. Hindsight was good like that: that was why action spoken louder than words. History was a collection of the most popular lies that people preferred to believe.
Ryan excused himself while the rest of us walked and checked out the music and video stores. He didn't say where he was going. But later on, when he returned, he had several bags from an upscale store.
We stopped for a bite. Everyone wanted something different to eat and the food court provided that. We all ordered at separate kiosks, while Ryan staked out a large round table under an umbrella, guarding his precious bags.
When we reconvened, we compared our choices; pizza for me, a vegetarian stir-fry for Amane, a Greek salad for Bo.
Bo had also picked up a small lamb platter for Ryan, but he never took a bite; apparently concerned about the sanitary standards of the food court. A little snippy, Bo pointed out, “The rest of us don’t seem to have a problem with it.”
Ryan back-peddled. “Yes, I know, but I had a bad experience with a food court once. Terrible food poisoning. I was deathly ill for days.”
“Deathly?” she scoffed. “At this mall? This store?”
“No, no. Of course not. But the illness experience becomes associated. I’m sorry. It looks wonderful, but I can’t.”
He offered it to anyone who was willing. No one accepted his offer. Bo did not say anything, but I could tell from her expression that she was annoyed with him.
Oblivious to the thin ice he was on, Ryan began showcasing his purchases as the rest of us ate. “Well, here’s my surprise," he began, talking to Bo who looked silently at her salad. "I have a business trip that was scheduled near the Grand Canyon. While there, I thought we could do a three day tour and visit the Canyon, the Hoover Dam, and Vegas. I bought you a few things for the trip and have a detailed itinerary prepared."
Instead of being ecstatic as he was expecting, Bo stopped eating, a forkful of lettuce and feta cheese suspended in air. She asked, "Wouldn't it be better to spend the three days in one place, like the Grand Canyon, if that's where you need to be for your meeting? And then take our time to explore and experience the local towns and other attractions? Maybe find some nice restaurants, take some long walks, drives, helicopter rides, or just enjoy the scenery?"
"No, of course not,” Ryan replied with complete confidence. “If we see the best of all three, we can get a sense of what we like, and if we like it enough, we can always go back for an extended visit."
He was very pleased that he was so sure of himself. But he did not appear to be hearing what Bo was saying. My sales books had told me it was very important to hear what people were telling you, whether they used words to tell it or not. I had failed to do that myself many times with Bo. But now I could see that Ryan was failing badly.
He began to pull items from his shopping bags. "These shorts are durable, but fashionable. Perfect for donkey rides."
"Donkey rides?" Bo was unconvinced. “In those shorts?” She imagined her thighs chaffing in the hot dry air, rubbing against the coarse donkey hair.
"We could do the helicopter tour, but you need a bit of a stomach for that."
"I have a stomach," she reminded him. Then she high-fived me and shouted, “HOW MANY Roller Coaster rides???”
“Shitloads!” I agreed, slapping her hand.
"I do too,” Ryan reminded her, “with the help of my Dramamine. But I wasn't sure how well it would stand up to a small craft being blown around back and forth in an enormous canyon. Have you ever been in a small can, suspended over an enormous drop to the rocks below; blown by crosswinds? Do you know how your stomach will react?"
“I’m really not worried about it.” With a hint of agitation, she added, "Is there some reason I wasn't capable of picking out my own clothes for the trip, once you finally decided to let me know about it, I mean?"
"I wanted to surprise you. Shower you in gifts. Have everything taken care of so that you could just enjoy the trip itself. It’s supposed to be fun." He smiled. He didn't seem to comprehend that she was annoyed.
I looked at Amane, sensing a possible blow-out. She had the same concerned look on her face.
Amane tried to make Ryan understand. "A girl likes to pick out her own clothes, and shopping is half the enjoyment."
“Like the clothes you’re wearing now?” He was mocking her, not making friends at a moment when he desperately needed them.
“Amane looks great,” I said. I added, trying to be funny, "And personally, I think wearing clothes is highly overrated."
Bo joked. "Clothing optional!"
"Let it all hang out, the way nature intended, swinging and flapping in the wind."
Amane cracked an embarrassed grin, but Ryan was disgusted. His tone was full of distaste. "Perhaps you've been spending too much time with Mags."
Bo tightened her lips, somehow infuriated by his comment, as if she didn’t want to be reminded of me hanging out with Mags, clothing optional. She suggested, "Why don't we press the reset button, bring back ALL of these clothes, and NOT go on a trip?"
Ryan knew that things were getting ugly, but he still didn't seem to understand. "Why? You like to travel."
"When I’m a part of it. This sounds too rushed. I feel like I'd be running from place to place, snapping pictures, and not experiencing a single moment. I want to see. Explore. Savor the air. Cherish the sunset. Feel the heat and breeze. I want to feel as if I am living, not observing. Watching life pass me by is the last thing I want to do. That's very important to me."
Confused, hurt, and starting to be on the defensive, Ryan explained, "But that's why I created the itinerary, to allow us to see each of the most important things, with just enough time to appreciate all of them, and maximize the benefit of the entire trip."
"It sounds like an expedition through a pre-planned virtual tour book. Where's the discovery? The surprise?" her voice was rising in pitch. She was getting angrier.
"I expect that we'll be surprised routinely. It's the best of both worlds, isn’t it? Why are you upset?"
I couldn't help think, "At least he's starting to listen. A little."
But Bo was already exasperated. "I'm upset because something about the way it was all thrown together, from the locations, to the clothes, to the itinerary… everything seems to have been done without any input or involvement from ME. I’m a static accessory. I don’t want to be an accessory."
"Well," he was flustered. "I can rearrange the itinerary, to schedule some spontaneous time..."
"You did NOT just say 'schedule some SPONTANEOUS time'!"
Amane and I didn't know what to do. We had never seen them fight before, and this was turning into a NASCAR crash-and-burn disaster
.
Awkwardly, and trying not to raise his voice, he offered, "I thought this was a good thing. Efficiency is one of my strengths."
Amane agreed, "Me, too. But if we're doing something with someone else, we need to involve them. Right, W2?" Ryan's gaze lingered on the new version of Amane for a moment longer than he normally would.
I kept my mouth shut. For as long as I could anyway. Which wasn’t long. I added, "I understand the importance of a schedule – sometimes; but other than that, I will avoid them like the bubonic plague. I already let work and school define more than half my life when I'm not sleeping. I sure as hell don't want my downtime scheduled too."
"I know! Right?" Bo and I were dangerously on the same side of a pivotal discussion that was not going to end well.
Ryan glared at me. I was the guy who stole the final slow dance of the night at the party he had planned. I was not his friend right now.
Ryan began putting the clothes back in the bag, avoiding Bo's eyes. "No. I understand. I will bring these back, and change the plans from the three cities, to one city for three days. And you can shop while you're there, and we will block off entire sections of the day to do nothing, or have random exploration, or ... whatever you want."
He was trying so hard that I actually felt bad for him. Especially since Bo seemed to have a hair across her ass for no apparent reason.
She continued laying into him. "But see? Again! You're doing it. You're changing the plans, but you're making all the decisions. You're penciling in my life without asking me what I want!"
Amane and I were open-mouthed now, staring at each other. At this point, it obviously did not matter what Ryan said or did. It was going to be wrong.
"I thought you just told me what you wanted!" Ryan was cracking, raising his voice. "I thought the revised plans took that into account?" He looked to Amane and me for guidance and support. This was getting awkward. He asked her outright, "What do you want?"
Bo was breathless. There was more here than a discussion about a trip to the Grand Canyon.
For a fleeting moment, I flashed back to the Fund Raiser when Bo seemed to be making a move on me. I had stopped her that day, replying, “I’m sorry about the other night. You’re with Ryan.” And as I watched this scene unfold at the mall, a part of me couldn’t help think that the two were connected.
The churning behind her eyes was obvious, but she wasn't about to say it here, in front of the Amane and me. She exhaled loudly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'll call you tonight, and we'll talk about it."
"Whatever you want," he huffed, emphasizing, "however YOU would like to do it."
I knew at that moment that she was considering breaking up with him. Maybe she would call it a 'break', or a 'trial separation.' Maybe she would shatter his heart and say, "I think we should see other people." Perhaps she would say nothing, but Ryan would be conspicuously absent. But whatever words she chose, the meaning was the same. She wasn't sure of her love for him; not the spend-your-entire-life-together kind of love. That was four hyphens; and simply not allowed in these parts.
Bo was flushed, upset, and angry. "Fine."
Ryan was noticeably hurt. This was the last thing he had expected, and from the person he least expected it.
My heart was breaking, listening to him. And yet, deep down inside, I still wanted him gone. I hated him secretly and was glad to see him suffer, but I wasn't going to contribute actively to that outcome.
Suddenly, Bo said, "I'm sorry I'm being so difficult. We'll talk tonight. This isn't the place."
"I understand," he conceded. "Perhaps I should go, and Amane can take you home." He looked to us for help. Amane nodded.
Without another word, Ryan left, his shopping bags dragging on the floor, his back hunched, his head hung low.
After he was out of earshot, I asked Bo, "What was that?"
She had every right to say it was none of my business, but she picked nicer words. "It's between me and Ryan."
Amane asked, "Has he been bad to you? Did he do something?"
"No. He's always a gentleman. I don't want to talk about it." She looked at Amane with disappointment, and touched her shoulder. "This was supposed to be a fun day for you, and I ended up making a stupid scene. I am so sorry."
"It's alright," she comforted her. "These clothes aren't me, but I'm glad I tried them."
"Don't lose the makeup," I suggested. "It looks good. You can even tone it down a lot and it will still look good." Amane nodded, appreciating the feedback.
“And the clothes,” Bo suggested. “This might be a bit dramatic for you, but you look great. I think you might feel good with a happy medium.” Then Bo brushed Amane's moussed hair out of her eyes and nodded, "You're beautiful. However you dress."
Amane blushed. "Thanks, guys."
***
When we got to Amane's car in the parking lot, Bo suddenly said, "Amane, I'm going to let Waylon drive me home. He's actually closer."
"I don't mind."
"I know, but ...it's ok... I ... I just ..."
Amane didn't let her dangle on the line, sensing Bo wanted me to drive her home for some reason. "That's fine."
"Ok, thanks. I'll talk to you later."
Amane put her hand on her hips and scrutinized the two of us for a moment, as if she were calculating what was going on. Then she nodded, and got in her car. "See 'ya."
[ A Drive ]
Once we were in my car, Bo apologized. "Sorry about all of that: Ryan, the sudden change of plans with Amane not driving me home, everything."
"No prob'."
"I just couldn't stand the thought of a long silent drive with Amane, wondering if she were judging and second-guessing me."
"Oh, and I won't be?"
"Judging me?" She sounded shocked.
"Silent."
She smirked, "You can't shut up."
"Oh, ho, ho, ho," I scoffed. "I can shut up."
"This isn't the time to prove it. Besides..." she exhaled loudly. "I don't want to go home. That's another reason I didn't want Amane to drive me. Can we just go somewhere and hang out? Someplace where I can take my mind off of all this, and think if I want?"
I thought for a minute, then said, "What do you want to do? Play with some puppets at the puppet center..."
"The puppet center? You're making that up."
"Nope. Seriously." I continued. "Then there's Castleberry, if you like some cool art galleries and a street of wall-art murals…"
"That sounds wicked. Is it far?"
"Not if it’s something you want to do,” I said, avoiding the question of distance. "Or maybe you want to go get a tattoo. I can tell you a few places to avoid, at least."
"That would be funny," she laughed. "Ryan would die if I showed up with a tattoo on my arm."
"Who said anything about your arm?" I teased. I confessed, “I have a tattoo. Totally messed up, but luckily you can’t see it unless you are, um, very intimate with me. That was probably a mistake.”
“Yeah?” Bo became unusually thoughtful and serious. "Was that the biggest mistake of your life, your messed up tattoo?"
"Nope."
"Want to talk about it? The biggest mistake of your life?" she asked.
"Nope. How about you? Biggest mistake of your life?"
Without thinking, she asked, "You mean Ryan?" Then she put her hand to her mouth, and caught herself, blushing and terrified. "I didn't mean to say that."
"Wow." That was all I could say.
She tried to fluff it off. "I'm going through some things. I didn't mean that."
"No? Y' sure? You can talk to me if you want. It's not going anywhere, but between us. Though, I can’t guarantee my objectivity."
She started by justifying their relationship. "He tries so hard..."
I interrupted. "Just dump his ass, that loser prick!" I smirked at her, and she laughed. I pretended to apologize. "Sorry. Maybe I wasn't being impartial. I'll be better now."
She laughed again, b
ut then fell silent, reconsidering whether she wanted to talk about it or not.
[ The Duck Pond ]
I decided to take Bo to the duck pond for a nice relaxing walk.
For a while the conversation turned to a whole lot of safe nothing. We walked around the Duck Pond, chasing ducks, and trying to find bread crumbs to throw at them. Sometimes the ducks seemed too stupid to know we were trying to help; and I just ran, hollered, and scared them a bit, watching them flap away, all riled up. But they didn't stay away for long. I’m not sure who was acting dumber: me or the ducks. Maybe I was trying to impress Bo. Guys do dumb things when they try to impress girls.
We walked over to the end of the pond and kneeled down. I asked her, "You like country music?"
"Gah!" she put a finger down her throat.
I teased, "I couldn't quite catch that over the vomit sounds. Was that a yes?"
"Probably not."
"Why not?" I asked. "I like a lot of music. Country's just a part of it."
Bo countered, "I prefer fun, different, edgy, pop type stuff. Like 'OK GO' and all their wicked cool videos. But I reach across the musical aisle when I can. A little. Like Taylor Swift."
I laughed. "That doesn't count. Everyone likes Taylor Swift. Except for obsessive Harry Styles fans."
Bo asked dumbly, "Who?"
"Never mind. But see. That's what I'm saying. You need to be better-rounded with your music."
She pulled her head back, giving me a defensive look. "You're telling me what to like now?"
"No, no, no. Not like that. I just meant, let’s have fun learnin’ new things together. That’s all." Together. I said it. I was leading the conversation in the direction of my heart.
She bit. "Ok. So who is he? A country singer?"
"Who?"
"Harry something."
I smiled. "Oh. Harry Styles. No. British boy-band pop."
"Ha! I can't even picture you listening to that. Play me something," she handed me her phone, opening her music app.
I did a quick search for "One Direction." The first song that came back was an old hit: "One Thing." I clicked play.
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