Un-Dateable

by Alice Bello

  I watched him leave and then I signed out myself. I told my boss I was just overly emotional, which was the truth. He told me it was fine and to come back tomorrow — the football player would be in, and he needed to see me before the playoffs began.

  I started to walk home, half-expecting Gus to pop-up somewhere along the line to ask the obvious. “Are you nuts?”

  But Gus was nowhere to be found as I walked slowly back home to my apartment. I kept asking myself why I’d said yes? What on earth was I thinking? And then I thought, maybe it’s what I really need.

  After all, Dean was great. Dean was too freaking good for me, seeing that I’m a mental tramp. And maybe I’d someday feel the same way about him. I mean, what’s not to love? He’s thoughtful and kind and gorgeous and amazing in bed, and...

  And he can’t break your heart.

  I shook my head—where the hell did that thought come from? It wasn’t that he couldn’t break it; it’s that Dean wouldn’t. Right?

  You can’t break what you don’t have in the first place.

  My cell phone went off and I answered it not thinking.

  “So you don’t tell your best friend you’re engaged! I gotta hear it on the goddamn street!”

  I stopped in my tracks. “It just happened and... and how did you know?”

  “Oh please! I’ve got contacts all over the city. Now why wasn’t I the first person you called?”

  “I haven’t called anyone.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

  I was about to answer her when she suddenly started laughing. Hysterical, maniacal laughter.

  “What are you laughing about?”

  “I just got it!” Bess howled. “You idiot! You said yes to the wrong guy!”

  “No... I said yes to the right one.” And I disconnected.

  My phone immediately started to ring again, and I picked up and said, “I’m not talking to you anymore!”

  “Is that why I had to hear about it from Bess!” It was Mother.

  I shook my head. “I didn’t mean... I thought you were ...”

  “So you weren’t going to pick up if you’d realized it was me?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “But is it what you meant?”

  “What?” I suddenly felt like I was talking to the goddamn sphinx.

  “Well, just yesterday you were saying you weren’t in love with Dean, and now you’re engaged to him.”

  “I did?” I was trying to remember. So much had happened since I’d seen her.

  “So what’s going on? Are you marrying the man you don’t love or what?”

  “Mother... I-I... I gotta go.” And I hung up, turned my phone off and shoved it deep into the depths of my book bag. I needed to be alone. I needed some peace and quiet.

  ~*~

  Stuck to find somewhere private and secluded — since my apartment would soon become Grand Central Station — I found myself hiding in the children’s literature section of the public library on Cordon Street. I was sitting in an overstuffed chair staring out a window. The window only showed the brick wall of the neighboring building.

  Blessedly, there were no children, just a few parents sifting through the aisles of time worn books, probably searching by politically correctness alone.

  It was cool and smelled nice — like cinnamon toast — so I tried to clear my mind. But as a New Yorker the rather sound proof library proved too damn quiet for me to clear anything, not to mention my mind. But if I was going to stew over my problems, I might as well let them percolate somewhere peaceful that smelled good. I had to admit, the joint smelled better than anywhere in the city.

  “Ahem... Dana?”

  I turned and looked up into the face of a vaguely familiar man. I gave him a cursory smile and said, shaking my head, “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

  His smile turned into an awkward grimace. “The last time you saw me I was in a suit, and unfortunately you were lying on your back on the floor of a coffee shop.”

  “Oh god,” I felt my whole body tighten with the memory.

  “Nope, not him. Just Richard.” He smiled and the next thing I knew we were laughing. Not just a little, but belly laughs.

  “You look different out of the suit.” He was wearing an old polo shirt and khaki shorts — and sandals.

  “And you look —” He gave me an appraising look. “You look the same. Same uniform, same ill look on your face. You haven’t met another funeral director have you? I’d be hurt.”

  “I don’t remember you being this funny,” I said, now looking him over. “There’s something more changed about you than your wardrobe.”

  “Yeah, I finally figured out that I’m gay.”

  I laughed and rolled my eyes at him, but the look he was giving me said he wasn’t kidding. “Oh cripes, you’re serious.”

  “Yep, I really had never thought about it — too career oriented I guess. Then right after you fainted I started talking to the guy behind the coffee counter. About a week later, and three dozen cups of coffee, we went on our first date.”

  I suddenly got this preposterous, humiliating idea in my head. “Did I turn you gay?”

  He looked up for a beat, pondering it. “Maybe ...”

  I groaned and sank further into the overstuffed chair.

  “Jesus, Dana! I’m just pulling your leg.”

  Suddenly a little girl—maybe ten years old—raced up and tugged on Richard’s arm. “I want you to read this one to me!” She held up a small, thin book.

  “Hailey, you know you hate for me to read to you.” He looked to me. “I have an awful reading voice.”

  The little girl stared at me, her eyes suddenly slits.

  “Oh, Dana, this is my niece Hailey. I’m watching her for the afternoon. Hailey, this is my friend Dana.”

  I smiled the best I could, the little girl’s eyes squinted harder and she folded her arms over her chest. “Are you a nurse?”

  “No. I’m not a doctor either.”

  She laughed sarcastically. “That’s obvious.”

  Richard broke in. “Hailey hates doctors and nurses. They always show up with needles.”

  “I hate needles,” she said, worry blossoming in her little green eyes.

  “Well, I’m just a physical therapist. I help people walk and move better.”

  The little girl’s eyes turned round again, and her arms unfolded. “Will you read this to me?” she said, handing me the book.

  I’d never in my life read to a child. I was dumbfounded. “What if you hate my reading voice too?”

  “You have to be better than me,” Richard said.

  “He’s the worst.” Hailey gave him a haughty glance, and then pushed the book at me again.

  I looked up at Richard. “Do you have that much time?”

  “Sure. I’ll just browse around... maybe catch a few Zs in the stacks.” And he winked at me.

  “Okay,” I said to the little girl, taking the book from her. Suddenly Hailey climbed up on the chair with me, positioning herself on my lap. It was a shock, I hadn’t thought she would sit in my lap, but she did it as if it were commonplace. She was so light, but she seemed so solid and finished.

  I’d always thought of children as not being finished. Guess I didn’t remember myself at that age very well.

  I looked at the cover of the book, “The Tiger Rising,” I read. The cover had a little girl riding a tiger through the woods. I started reading to Hailey, at first just reading the words, but as the little girl leaned into me, listening intently, I started to see the story in my head. The sad little boy with the broke-out legs, the little girl in the fancy dress, and the weight of it all, of the boy’s loss of his Mother, and his present yet distant father.

  I read for what seemed like hours, and Hailey only moved when I turned the pages. Not saying a word, but sometimes gasping or laughing.

  When I’d finished I felt like crying.

  “That was sad,” the little girl said
, hopping off my lap and leaving me with the book, waving at me as she skipped across the marble floor to her uncle.

  “Thanks,” he said, with a wave, as Hailey grabbed his hand and started yanking him toward the door.

  “I want ice cream!” she demanded.

  “Huh...” I said, looking after them and then back to the book. There was something in the story I should have gotten, but it hadn’t registered yet. I stood and felt the awful tingly entropy of having both my legs fall asleep on me. I staggered yet took the book up to the front desk and handed it to the librarian.

  “Would you like to check it out?”

  I was about to tell her I’d just read it, but then I suddenly said, “Yes.”

  ~*~

  When I finally went home my answering machine was about forty messages deep. I wasn’t going to listen to them, but then again I was kind of hoping Dean would’ve changed his mind and that would let me off the hook without actually having to hurt him... and possibly not having to break up with him at all.

  After all, all I knew about Gus was that he was good with plants and that he wanted me. All the other stuff was just stuff my mind made up while I was dreaming.

  Gus was probably horrible in bed, and my romantic feelings toward him were probably as based on reality as those erotic dreams.

  And then I hit play and the messages started talking to me.

  First, second, and third were my Mother, fourth through eight were from Bess. Then there was one from Dean. He was thinking about me and was going to stop by after his shift at the hospital. “I’ll bring the Chinese.”

  After that was alternating messages from Mother and Bess, a few congratulatory messages from colleges from work, and a few from old classmates that I hadn’t seen or heard from in years.

  But when the machine said, “Messages completed.” I suddenly found myself disappointed. Disappointed that Gus hadn’t called.

  I gave myself a head slap, and as my palm clapped against my forehead I heard a knocking on my door.

  I shook my head and tried to decide whether or not to open the door? I stood perfectly still and kept my breathing light.

  “Come on cupcake!” Bess’ voice cut through my scarred wooden door. “I know you’re there... I can smell you.”

  I opened the door and gave her a scathing look. “You can smell me?”

  Bess sauntered smooth and sleek through the door. “Yeah, the musk of the guilty.”

  “Ha, very funny.”

  “So what the fuck?” She sat down on my couch and plucked a cigarette from her purse, then offered me one. I accepted, and we lit up together, inhaling deeply, trying not to break down and cry. Well, I was trying not to. Bess was staring at me, practically willing me to confess my sins to her. “So spill it already.”

  “What’s to tell? Dean asked me to marry him... and I said yes.”

  “You said yes. That’s all?”

  “What else would there be?”

  “Well, we spent all yesterday in a bathtub going over you having the hots for the florist—”

  “He’s not a florist, really ...”

  “And you said you weren’t in love with your boyfriend.” She kicked her legs up and threw them across my lap. “And now you’re engaged to the man you don’t love. So what happened since yesterday?”

  “Well... he asked me.”

  “We’ve established that, and that’s a bullshit answer, so tell me what really happened.”

  What had really happened? “Gus was there for therapy.”

  Bess’ eyebrows rose. “And?”

  “He was asking about Dean and me... and then he ...” I blew out the rest of my breath in a sigh.

  “Then he what?” Bess jabbed me with her toe.

  “He said I should sleep with him.”

  Bess laughed. “He just came out with that one... out of nowhere?”

  “Somehow we’d gotten on the subject of how good Dean was in bed. I said he was the best I’d ever had, and Gus said ‘wait until I’m in your bed’.”

  Bess sat up and slapped my arm. “You’re shitting me, right?”

  I shook my head. “And then Dean showed up, with a ring and proposed.”

  “And you said yes?”

  “No,” I replayed it in my mind. “I ran.”

  Bess burst out in hysterics, pulling her legs off my lap and throwing her head back.

  “It’s not funny!”

  “Sure it is, cupcake. It’s pathetic too!”

  “Feel the love in this room.”

  Bess stopped laughing long enough to take a few calming breaths, and then tried to repress the smile that was surgically grafted onto her face. “So when did you say yes? Whilst running out the door?”

  “No, he caught me out in the hall.”

  Bess just stared me down. “And?”

  “And there was Gus at the door, watching, looking like... well, like he knew I wouldn’t say yes.”

  Bess’ brow knitted and she shook her head. “So?”

  “So that pissed me off. Next thing I know I said yes, Dean picked me up and twirled me around, and Gus was gone.”

  And now you’re engaged to a man you don’t love, and the man you do love —”

  “I... don’t... love... Gus!”

  Bess put up her hands, “Okay, okay... the man you have indeterminate romantic and lust-provoking feelings for is M.I.A.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Bess snorted and started laughing hysterically again. “Only you cupcake... only you!”

  I punched her in the arm. “I said it wasn’t funny!” But Bess kept laughing, holding her stomach. “Stop that!”

  Bess howled then tried to pull herself together. “I’m sorry. I’m a shitty friend.”

  “I could think of a few other words for you too.”

  “Hey, I said I’m sorry... so what can I do?”

  I knew I looked perfectly pathetic when I asked, but... “What am I going to do?”

  The look on Bess’ face was pure empathy, which was so not like her. “Leave town?”

  “Who’s your travel agent?”

  Chapter 25

  No, I didn’t leave town. For one thing my entire life was here, and being a native daughter I knew instinctively that I’d be miserable any place else but New York. Plus I had an eerie thought that if I skipped town my problems, Dean and Gus, would show up wherever I went to. Knocking on my hotel door, both of them camping out in my living room... both of them coming into my bedroom “to talk” and each wearing nothing but boxers...

  I shook my head and tried to push such a moral-less thought from my mind. That’s when I remembered I was in my bathroom, taking yet another cold shower. Oh well, I was using a ton of water, but I was conserving energy by not bothering to heat it.

  Bess had vacated my apartment in search of non-Chinese/non-Italian food — I wasn’t in the mood for a culinary stroll down memory lane. I’d left a message on Dean’s voice mail saying Bess and I were having a “Girl’s night in... to celebrate” and that I’d see him tomorrow. But in truth we weren’t celebrating. My best friend was going to spend the night to console me, and to help me make a freaking choice — and then to console me after I made my choice. And while she was procuring the food of heart break binging, she was also getting ingredients for cocksucker milk shakes.

  I had a feeling that it would be hard to just call off tomorrow, and I had no idea what I’d do if I decided to actually go in.

  As I exited my bathroom there was knocking at my front door.

  “I could’ve sworn I handed you the keys!” I called out as I padded in a towel to let Bess in.

  It wasn’t Bess. Gus stood there in the hall, the look on his face making me gulp. He was pissed. Usually he was an irritable pain in the ass, and lately he’d softened toward me, even smiled regularly and was as of this week openly hitting on me — but right then, staring down at me, he was just plain pissed.

  “What are you doing here?” I grasped the towel about me
tighter, pulling down at the bottom to make sure everything was covered. But Gus didn’t give my scantily clad body a second look. He shook his head and walked past me into my apartment.

  “Sure,” I said. “Just come on in, don’t mind that I’m naked.”

  He turned and looked at me, his face changing for a split second to a lustful ogle — which I immediately wished I hadn’t brought his attention to—but then reverted right back to him being pissed.

  “You’re not naked.” He moved to my refrigerator and rummaged around until he found a cold beer, twisted the cap then guzzled about half of it. “At least not yet.”

  “That’s great, Gus. Even when you’re mad at me you can still hit on me. Couple that with being pushy and just helping yourself to my beer, and you’re a real prince!”

  His gaze leveled off to plain hatred, his jaw clenched, and eyes slits. “And what you did this afternoon, with that dork of a doctor, that makes you a paragon of fucking virtue?”

  I’d never heard him curse. Actually the only person in my life who cursed on a regular basis was Bess. And after all these years I’d come to accept it as just part of the way she expressed herself. But coming from Gus’ lips it kind of scared me, made him more of a stranger to me.

  “All I did was accept a marriage proposal. What business is it of yours?” Again I wasn’t about to let him know how right he’d been, that I didn’t feel love for Dean, and that I knew deep down that I’d never marry him. All I wanted right now was to get that holier-than-thou glower off his face—and if I could get him to leave before my mostly naked flesh ignited, that would be a definite plus.

  “A proposal from that dweeb of a kid?”

  “Dweeb? Did you really just say dweeb?”

  “He’s not a man yet... how can he—”

  “Oh he’s a man, alright!” I cut across him, the heat that was threatening to ignite my flesh now shot from my lips in anger. “A real man wouldn’t be going after another man’s... another man’s ...”

  “Another man’s what?” He walked slowly and deliberately toward me, his eyes never letting mine go. “You can’t say that you’re his anything, because you’re not his in the first place.”

  Okay, I wanted to punch Gus... and I wanted his hands all over me...