by Scott, Lisa
“That’s in an hour.”
“Perfect!”
“Well…sure. I guess. Come on by.”
***
At 3:00 she drove up to the building where they both had gone to high school. Lance had been a health teacher there since he’d graduated from college. Hopefully, he was a better teacher than a student. She climbed the stairs to the second floor, past the posters for the Valentine’s ball. She’d gone to the prom with Lance and her heart ached just remembering that sweet rose corsage and her long, pink gown, and the way his hands had circled her waist as they swayed to their song; how she rubbed his back while he puked from drinking too much that night. She sighed. Lance was her first love and her first heartbreak. Images of those two memories swirled through her brain.
His door was open, so she walked in. He looked up from his desk and smiled. “I haven’t seen you since high school.”
“Crazy, right?”
“Wow. Look at you. More beautiful than ever.” He stood up and hugged her and she tried to remember why they did break up. He sat down at a desk and she sat next to him, pulling her chair closer to his.
“So, after all these years you wanted to talk about us?”
She looped her hands around her knees. “I just want to know what I could’ve done differently. Don’t worry. I’m asking all my old boyfriends.”
He laughed. “I don’t know. Could you have been ten years older? We were kids headed for college and it was too soon to settle down.”
“I wasn’t too overbearing?”
“No.”
“Whiny?”
“Absolutely not.”
She looked at him.
“Usually not.” He sighed. “Really, Aubrey, the timing was off. And it is again. I’m involved with someone.”
She scooted her chair away from his. “Oh, no. No. I wasn’t coming here looking to get back together.” She laughed nervously and pulled the questionnaire packet out of her purse. “I’m hoping you could fill this out to give me some insight on my strengths and weaknesses as a girlfriend.”
He reached over and took the papers from her. “You’re giving me an exit survey. Five years later.”
“I guess so. Think of it as homework.”
He shook his head laughing. “You always tried so hard at whatever you did. Even with us. You helped organize the damn senior prom just so you could make sure our song was the theme. That was crazy.”
She closed her eyes. “Rock Your Body, Justin Timberlake. Do you know how hard it was to push that through? They didn’t think it was romantic.”
“Rock Your Body is totally romantic. At least it was with you,” Lance said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
She sighed. “It seemed like love at the time.”
“I know. But we were teenagers. I see it here everyday, all these young, love-struck couples, and you just know it’s not going to work out.”
She looked at the floor and nodded. “We didn’t really have a chance, did we?”
He tipped up her chin. “We were kids. And we had fun, didn’t we?”
Closing her eyes, she nodded, remembering what it was like to kiss him. Then she saw Ian’s face again. Ugh!
Lance stood up. “I’ll try to get this back to you, soon.”
She forced her biggest smile. “Super. That’d be great, just squeeze it in while you’re grading papers on family planning or hormones or whatever.”
“We’re on the communicable diseases unit.”
“Then I better hurry out of here. Thanks!”
***
That visit required a stop at the bakery. Three chocolate chip cookies later, and Lance and his brown eyes were forgotten. Plus, she needed the sugar rush to push on to visit number four of the day. Davey McDickson was up next. He was still in town, running his family’s funeral home and there would certainly be a viewing that night. How they managed to get anyone to lay out their loved ones at a place called McDickson’s was a mystery, but they still had billboards on the highway, so business must be going strong.
She drove to the funeral parlor at seven, and Davey was standing in the back of the room as a line of people waited to pay their respects at the casket. She walked up behind him and tapped his shoulder.
Davey jumped. “Aubrey!”
A few of the mourners turned to glare.
“Hi, Davey,” she whispered
“Hi.” His expression morphed from surprise to concern. He set his arm on hers. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
She shrugged. “It was two years ago. I’ve moved on.”
“Excuse me?”
“Is my math wrong? Hasn’t it been two years since you dumped me?”
Davey took a step back. “You’re not here for the wake?”
“No. I just need a moment of your time to talk about our relationship. Why it ended.”
An old woman sitting nearby scooted over a seat closer to them.
He lowered his voice even more. “You crashed a wake to talk about why we broke up a few years ago?”
She nodded. “What went wrong?”
He pursed his lips and his eyes darted around the room. His voice came out in a hiss. “You signed us up for a weekend couple’s retreat after our first fight. About which movie to see. And we’d only been dating two months.”
She threw up her hands. “I wanted things to work out between us.”
“You were way too intense.”
“Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One was brilliant. I don’t know why you resisted seeing it.” She rolled her “r’s” for dramatic effect.
Davey wrinkled his nose.
“What? You thought it was funny when I did that. Then you’d say burrito and try to roll your r’s longer.”
He shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”
Wrong guy. It had been Ian who appreciated her attempts at foreign accents. She grabbed the packet of papers. “Can you fill this out and mail it back to me?”
His eyes were wide and unblinking. “This is real life, isn’t it? I’m not just having a nightmare.”
“I forgot how much fun you were.” She handed him the papers and snagged a cookie and some punch before leaving. Tomorrow is a new day, she told herself as she drove home, certain that her meeting with Quinton would be much more helpful.
***
Aubrey slipped on her best shoes because she knew Quinton would be checking them out—if not trying to sneak off with them. Here he was the one with the foot fetish, and he’d dumped her. But Quinton had been so nice and romantic, taking her ballroom dancing and shopping. Seriously, how many guys do that? Well, Ian always danced with her at weddings, and carried her shopping bags at the mall—but Quinton had really seemed to enjoy it. She’d always thought Quinton had really understood her, but he just called things off one day with no good explanation.
She parked outside the café and looked for Quinton at one of the patio tables. He’d emailed her back that he’d love to see her, and would be waiting at a table outside the cafe. Checking out the customers sitting under the cheerful umbrellas, she didn’t see him. Her heart fell. Had he stiffed her? That sounded dirty, she thought, remembering they hadn’t even got that far in the relationship before he broke things off. Maybe he just hadn’t been willing to wait for the good stuff. Aubrey had always liked to take things slow. Well, except with Ian, but she hadn’t been able to help herself.
“Aubrey, is that you?” asked a woman
She looked over to the table where the voice had come from. A pretty woman sat smiling at her.
Cute hairdo, Aubrey thought. Kind of looks like mine. “Yes?”
The woman giggled. “It’s me, Quinton. But I’m going by Quinn now.”
Aubrey grabbed the chair in front of her. “Quinton?”
The woman smiled and nodded, then patted the chair next to her. “Sit, let’s talk.”
Aubrey walked over and dropped into the chair. Her heart was in her throat. This beautiful woman was Quinton—Quinn?
“Wow. Look at you. Love that blouse.”
“I got it at the boutique just around the corner.”
“I’ve been meaning to go there.”
“We should go shopping sometime.”
Aubrey nodded. “Why not? I always did love shopping with you.”
They stared at each other for a few more moments. “Wow,” Aubrey said again.
“I know, I know. You can ask me questions later. But first, I’m dying to find out what has you tracking down your old boyfriends. This sounds so exciting, like a romantic comedy starring Emma Stone. Tell me all about it.”
Aubrey took a deep breath. “I’m just frustrated with my love life, and thought the best way to figure out what I’ve been doing wrong was to go straight to the source. My old…boyfriends.” She cleared her throat. “So, why did you break up with me? What did I do wrong?” Aubrey pulled out her packet of questions. “You can fill this out in private and mail it to me if you’re too uncomfortable to tell me.”
Quinn laughed and pushed the papers back toward Aubrey. “Oh, honey put that away. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not that I didn’t want you—I wanted to be you.”
“Huh. Is that why you took my shoes?”
“I wasn’t brave enough to buy my own yet. But you were just so sweet and pretty, and I’ve always felt there was a woman inside me just like that. And I knew when I wasn’t fantasizing about having sex with someone like you, something was wrong.” Quinn patted Aubrey’s hand, a flashy ruby ring glinting in the sun. “You tried real hard to make things work between us, but I’m sure you can see that was a hopeless cause. You helped me become the woman I was meant to be. Thank you.”
Aubrey set her hand over her heart. “I had no idea. You’re welcome.”
Quinn smiled at her. “I understand if you’re uncomfortable and would rather skip lunch.”
“No, not at all.” Aubrey shrugged. “I do have a few questions.”
Quinn folded her hands on the table and leaned forward. “About the process? The surgeries?”
Aubrey checked out Quinn’s impeccable manicure and shook her head. “No, I was wondering how you get your hair so shiny?”
Quinn patted her hair. “This great new conditioner. I’ll call you later and give you the name.”
“Perfect.”
The two of them spent the next hour talking, and then Aubrey got up to leave. “It was great seeing you Quinn. I’m glad you’re so happy with your new self.”
Quinn stood up and hugged her. “I’ve gotta say, I like you a whole lot more as a girlfriend than a girlfriend.” Quinn laughed. “Oh, you know what I mean. Good luck with that survey. Leave one with me and I’ll fill it out just in case you find something useful in my comments.”
Aubrey drove home wondering if she should be depressed that she prompted an ex to become a woman. Not many girls could hold that claim to fame, but Quinn had seemed so happy, Aubrey couldn’t help but feel happy—and hopeful, too. Maybe Aubrey would find her own happy ending when this was all over.
***
After cruising the mall and buying nothing, she went home and decided to call it a day. It was Friday night and she should have plans to go out and paint the town red. But the palette in her mind only featured dull, muddy shades. No red. No sparkles. All her friends had boyfriends, and calling her therapist to meet her at a bar would be a new low. Kyla had called to check on her, and Aubrey left a message telling her she was seeing an ex. Which was sort of true. She had seen some exes that week. Solo for the night, she made some popcorn and snuggled up to watch some favorite old movies and swoon over the happy endings. She couldn’t help but think of Ian’s happy ending and how she should be pleased for him. But she wasn’t. Not at all. She lay in bed thinking about the time they spent a week on the beach in Maine, and when they shared their first kiss on the swan boats at Boston Public Gardens, and how he’d always make her hot chocolate from scratch with a curl of dark chocolate on top. Did he do that for Monica, too?
***
Aubrey got up early Saturday morning for her trip to Vermont. Simon hadn’t returned her emails, but her Internet search had revealed that he’d just been elected mayor of the small town he moved to, and would be appearing at their Winterfest that weekend. This is not stalking, she told herself the entire ride there. She merely noticed he was making a public appearance and she was the public, right? She had every right to stop by and say hi, even if it was four hours out of her way.
She was prepared to hear whatever criticisms Simon had to share about her. He was ten years older than her. The oldest guy she’d ever dated. Maybe he had good insight into what went wrong—because something certainly had gone wrong. After he’d broken up with her, he’d refused to return her calls. Three years later, was he ready to reveal the truth?
She parked at the festival grounds and got herself a cotton candy and some hot chocolate as she tried to find Simon. Finally, she spotted him in the gazebo, shaking hands with his constituents.
He looked up, caught her gaze—and ran! The line of people waiting to meet him, looked over to see what had frightened him.
“Hello.” She waved her cotton candy stick at them, trying to act like it was totally normal that a grown man had just spotted her—and fled like she was a bounty hunter. Aubrey saw Simon run into a building hosting a craft show. She threw out her food and followed him inside. “Simon?”
He didn’t answer, but she saw someone standing behind a display of spring wreaths for sale.
“Simon, I know you’re there. I just want to ask you a few questions, then I’ll leave.”
He stepped out from behind the display. “A few questions. Of course.” He laughed in a semi-hysterical way. “That’s what you do best, isn’t it? Questions.”
“What do you mean?”
“See? Another question.”
She walked toward him and he grabbed a wreath, holding it between them like a shield.
“Are you going to attack me with that?”
“No. Just leave. Please don’t ask any questions.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Simon’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No,” she said.
“My election for the school board back in West Roxbury?”
She clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m so sorry you lost. I tried to help.”
Simon set down the wreath. “I lost because of your help! You used video of me dressed up like a nun on Halloween, asking if voters wanted a school board member who wouldn’t put up with any nunsense. I was dressed in a habit holding a ruler, Aubrey.”
“I wanted it to go viral, get your name out there.”
“It did go viral! I lost the entire Catholic vote. I had to move out here just to get elected to a public office.”
Aubrey clenched her jaw. You will not cry, you will not cry.
Simon held up his hands and took a step back. “Please just leave.”
“I thought it was a clever idea. I wanted to help make it happen for you. For us.”
“And that was exactly the problem. It either happens, or it doesn’t. You can’t make a relationship work.”
She took the packet of papers out of her purse then crumpled them in her hand. What was the use? Every guy had told her the same thing—she tried too hard. She’d always thought that had always been one of her greatest strengths.
Simon looked around the room. A line of sweat was beaded above his lips. “Can you please leave? I’m going to be nervous that voters will demand a recall election until you’re out of the county.”
She forced a smile. “Thanks a lot for making Ian look even better.”
“Huh?”
Shaking her head, she tossed the packet in the trash, and went back to her car.
Her phone buzzed, indicating a text had arrived. Aubrey fished it out of her purse and frowned. It was from Kyla: “Stone and I want you to come out for dinner with us on Valentine’s Day. We’ve al
ready made reservations for three.”
Kyla texted back. “Sorry, I can’t.” Kyla and her new boyfriend deserved a quiet, romantic night—alone.
***
When she got home from Vermont, she grabbed the pile tucked into her mailbox and went inside. Stuck in between the magazines and sales flyers were five thick envelopes. Since Simon wouldn’t be filling one out, everyone else had gotten back to her. She impressed by how quickly they’d filled out the questions. They probably had just wanted to get it over with.
She ripped open the first envelope and scanned the answers. She’d gotten a five out of five for kissing, four out of five for humor, and a two of out five for flexibility. I really should have clarified if I meant that in a physical or accommodating way.
By the time she got to the essay questions, she figured out this was from Dane, because it said the same thing he’d told her in person—she snored. Who knew he was such a liar?
The four other packets held few surprises—besides a report that she occasionally had a stray hair growing on her chin. What? This whole project left her feeling worse than when she had started. She called Diana and made an appointment for the next day and wondered if she should buy two boxes of candy to eat by herself on Valentine’s Day.
***
“How am I supposed to not try too hard? I’m passionate about things. Do you think I try too hard?” Aubrey asked Diana during her appointment after work Monday.
Diana choked on her coffee. “You do your best to make things work. Like with the survey. Gung-ho is a good description for you.”
“I thought gung-ho was a good thing. Wasn’t there a cartoon character named Gung-Ho Phooey?”
“I wouldn’t know about that. But gung-ho is a good thing. You just need to find someone who’s gung-ho about you, too. And then you won’t have to try at all, because it’ll just happen. The guys were right, though. Working hard isn’t going to save a relationship that wasn’t meant to be.”
***
Aubrey went home and grabbed the mail before going inside to drown her sorrows in chocolate syrup. As she flipped through the bills and ads while pouring Hershey’s syrup on a spoon and licking it off—a new personal low—she spotted an envelope with no return address. She ran her sticky finger under the flap and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.