I couldn’t think of a response, so I just shrugged.
Interrupting our awkward silence, a waitress stopped in front of us and asked if we needed anything.”
Pointing at the plates already on our table, Kenny yelled, “We already ordered!”
I scanned the room again and hoped I wouldn’t wind up with whiplash. There were plenty of cute guys in the bar, smiling and having a grand old time with their friends watching college basketball on the enormous television screens. I wished I was out with one of them. Or with Suzanne. Or at home watching “The Apprentice.’ Where was the pleasant guy from the phone? Why did I waste forty-five minutes getting to know him when the in-person version was a completely different model?
About an hour later, Kenny and I stood outside of the bar. “Thanks for treating,” I said.
“My pleasure,” he said. “Can I kiss you?”
I took two steps away from him. “I had a nice time, Kenny. But I don’t feel a romantic vibe. I hope we can be friends, though.” As I flashed back to hearing almost the same words from Hille, I discovered that giving this speech was almost as bad as receiving it. I wanted to go home.
Kenny gave me a wry look and a half smile. “No problem.”
I started to hail down a taxi when Kenny said, “Can we do this again sometime?”
At that moment, I hated dating more than doing my laundry. I turned away from the street, looked at Kenny and said, “Okay,” hoping a cab would read my mind and stop at my feet at that precise moment.
“But you didn’t want me to kiss you.”
I raised my hand in the air and as the taxi approached, said, “If we go out again, it would have to be as friends.” Crawling into the cab, I said, “I hope that’s okay.”
Looking disappointed, Kenny said, “Sure,” and as the cab drove in one direction, I turned around and saw him walk in the opposite one.
Never again, I vowed, which is what I told Suzanne when I called her from the cab on my way home.
“That bad, huh?” she said.
“Yes, that bad,” I confirmed.
“At least you got free drinks and food—a girl’s gotta eat!”
“A bottle of Sam Light and a mozzarella stick, Suze. I was afraid to eat off of the same plate in case he started coughing again. I’m thinking of ordering Chinese when I get home. Seriously, the only thing we had in common was a disinterest in golf. And he took me to a Red Sox bar even though there are pictures of me on my profile wearing a Yankee baseball cap! And I mentioned I was a Yankee fan on the phone, too. Thankfully we still have a few weeks before baseball season starts because if there was a Yankee/Red Sox game on, I’d probably have gotten my ass kicked.”
Laughing, Suzanne said, “They say opposites attract, you know.”
“Sure, but there was no attraction of any kind.”
“That’s bad. How’d you end things?”
“He asked if I wanted to go out again and I responded with an unenthusiastic “Okay.” Hopefully, he’ll get the hint and not call. We had nothing to talk about. I have no clue why he’d want to go out again anyway.”
“Cuz you’re a smokin’ hottie. What did I tell you? Anyway, better luck next time, girlfriend.”
“Like I said, there won’t be a next time.”
“It only takes...”
As the cab stopped in front of my apartment and I paid the driver, I said to Suzanne, “One. I know. It only takes one.”
Twenty-six
It was late but pre-closing meetings sometimes lasted all night. I tried to keep my eyes open while Gerard and the counsel for the other side reviewed the long list of documents which would be signed at the closing. I yawned and stretched my arms over my head. As I dropped them back to the sides of my body, I locked eyes with Gerard. He nodded, indicating I could take a break. I quietly left the conference room and went to my office. I debated whether to call my mom or take a nap, but I knew a nap would be of no benefit unless it was at least seven hours in duration. I startled my mom by phoning so late but after I assured her that I hadn’t been mugged, raped or hit by a car, she was happy to hear from me.
“I’m sorry I haven’t called you much lately. Things have been crazy at work. I’m still here,” I said.
“It’s almost eleven! Are you going home soon?”
Her voice sounded groggy and I worried that I’d awoken her or, worse, interrupted her having sex with Al. “Not likely. The overtime is great, though.”
“What else is new?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Anything interesting to share?”
“No.”
“Are you okay, sweetheart?”
Although my token answer to that question was “I’m fine,” when I attempted to say the words, I started sobbing. No words came out, just gasps of air.
“Stephanie, what’s wrong?”
I no longer heard the television in the background and I knew my mother was sitting upright on the bed. She was scared and I hated that I frightened her, especially since I had no idea what had come over me. I wiped my eyes with my hands, ignoring the mascara on my fingers which was probably running down my face as well. “Nothing’s wrong,” I gasped.
“You’re crying! Is this about work?”
I shook my head as if my mom could see me. “No.”
“Is this about Hille?”
“I feel like a slut! I went against every relationship how-to book in publication. What’s wrong with me?”
“Honey, you’re not a slut.”
“I’m pathetic,” I insisted. “He said we were friends with benefits and I didn’t listen.”
“So you had a little fun,” my mom said. “You’re entitled! And maybe he’ll come to his senses.”
“He won’t.”
“Then you’ll find someone else and forget all about him.”
I blew my nose and moaned, “I’m not so sure.”
“Well I am and I’m your mother,” my mom said sternly.
My mom’s certainty was not convincing, but it was nice to hear. “I hope you’re right.”
“I am right. You’re a beautiful, intelligent, wonderful young woman. Now go home and don’t worry about meeting someone.”
“From the lips of the woman who bribed me into joining eHarmony last year,” I said.
“I’m not going to bug you about it anymore.”
“Really?”
“Not until tomorrow, at least. Too bad Eric married Jess. I like him for you.”
My mother was nothing if not consistent. I shook my head and said, “Mom, Eric is my friend. That’s all.”
“I know, but he’s such a nice guy and he loves you,” my mom said.
“And I love him too, but not in that way.”
“I know. Okay, you get back to work. I love you.”
“I love you too. Thanks Mom.”
After we hung up, I went to the bathroom to wash my face. The tears made my eyes look greener and I wondered why they had to look prettiest when the rest of my face was swollen from crying. I also wondered what exactly Hille had done to deserve my tears. I couldn’t think of anything, but the idea that I just spontaneously erupted into hysterics over nothing didn’t exactly make me feel better. The next time I cried over a guy, I hoped I’d have a better reason. I wasn’t proud of my behavior with Hille, but I had a weak moment. Okay, I had several of them. But I felt better. I really did. Maybe it was my mom’s pep talk or maybe it was simply the realization that I wouldn’t be nearly as hard on a friend going through this as I had been on myself. The truth was, nothing I had done would be considered punishable by imprisonment or death under the laws of any country and certainly shouldn’t receive a lifetime sentence of self-hatred. It was time to deem it a lesson learned and move on.
Glancing at my watch, I realized forty minutes had passed since I left the conference room and I hurried back to work.
Twenty-seven
It rained that Sunday and I was home with John Cougar Mellencamp’s Gr
eatest Hits, my cleaning music, blasting. The phone rang while I was on the floor by my closet, bopping along to “Rocking in the USA.” I was trying to decide which shoes I really would never wear again and which I was likely to regret tossing in a month when I was wearing the perfect outfit but missing the perfect shoes.
It was Hille calling, and when my stomach didn’t leap at seeing his name on my phone, I knew I was making progress.
“Hi, Craig.”
“Hey, kid,” he said cheerfully. “How’s it going?”
He probably hadn’t even noticed that the last time we spoke one on one or even acknowledged the other directly was in the minutes after screwing. “It’s going okay,” I said. “No complaints. You?”
“I have complaints, but I won’t bore you with details,” he said.
“I’m just trying to clean my apartment. The urge strikes me so infrequently, I feel like I should take advantage.”
“Or hire a cleaning lady. That’s what I do,” he said.
“Nah. I’d feel too lazy hiring someone to clean a measly five hundred square feet.”
“You work hard, Steph, you deserve it. Eric said you’ve been working tons of hours.”
“Part of my job.” And a nice distraction from feeling like a loser for throwing myself at you.
“Well, speaking of lazy, how do you feel about a lazy week at the beach? Paul and I found a place in the Outer Banks. We were thinking of extending Memorial Day weekend.”
A week at the beach with Hille? I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. “It sounds fun. I’m not sure I can get the days off, though.” I was getting quite skilled at lying.
“Check with your boss. You said you got four weeks and you wouldn’t even need a full one since I’m sure you already get Memorial Day. It’ll be a blast. Eric, Jess and Hope are already in. Corky is checking with his department and I’ve asked a few other brothers.”
“Wow. Must be a big house!”
“It’s three floors and seven bedrooms of varying sizes.”
“Who would I room with?” I immediately regretted asking and hoped Hille wouldn’t think I was trying to flirt.
“Not sure, but we’d work out details later. You have to come. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
Why? Because you probably wouldn’t get any? “Glad you think so. Okay, I’ll check with Gerard and let you know,” I said.
“Great.”
The CD finished playing and I thought about what I should put on next. Maybe Steely Dan or The Fray. “I should get back to cleaning before I lose my motivation.”
“Okay. Good talking to you. Happy cleaning,” he said.
“Thanks. Have a good one.”
Twenty-eight
I forgot my sister-in-law’s birthday. Well, I didn’t technically forget, but had I remembered earlier, I wouldn’t be in a book store buying her a last minute gift, just hours before her birthday dinner. I couldn’t decide between a gift card from a book store or Sephora, but chose the book store since I didn’t want to give Amy the wrong impression that I thought she needed to wear more makeup.
On my way to the check-out line, a book caught my eye. I looked at my watch and, since I had some time, picked it up. I was fascinated by Maureen McCormack’s story. I had heard rumors that McCormack and Barry Williams slept together from third party sources but wasn’t sure if they were based in fact and didn’t think I could ever watch “The Brady Bunch” again without being haunted by visuals of Marcia and Greg having sex.
“What’s your favorite episode?”
Startled, I looked up from the book into the twinkling blue eyes of a baby-faced guy, probably around my age, with dark hair cut close to his head and a spattering of freckles on his fair skin. He was so darn cute, I wanted to give him a bear hug on the spot.
It suddenly occurred to me that he was probably acutely aware that I was checking him out so, regaining my composure, I responded, “George Glass.”
“George Glass? No way!”
I chuckled at his strong reaction. “Why? What’s yours?”
“Definitely the three-parter in Hawaii.”
“No way! With the stupid taboo idol and the oh-so realistic tarantula? I don’t think so.”
“But Vincent Price was in it. C’mon!” He winked at me and said, “And don’t tell me you weren’t hot for Greg in his bathing suit?”
“No, but I bet you liked Marcia in her bikini.”
“Actually, I thought Carol looked pretty hot in her grass skirt,” he said, grinning.
Shaking my head, I said, “I just wasn’t thrilled with those episodes. I might have even enjoyed the Grand Canyon ones more.”
“Bobbeee!! Cindeee!!” He raised his voice as he said this and a few people turned around to look at us.
Barely containing my laughter, I put my finger to my lips. “Shhh. You’re gonna cause a scene.”
Shrugging, he took a quick glance around and said, “Sorry. I guess I got a little excited.”
“The Brady Bunch gets you that excited, huh?”
He smiled again, flashing a great set of teeth. “Just excited to meet a fellow fan, even if her taste in episodes is not quite up to par. I’m Ryan, by the way.”
I couldn’t help returning the smile. “Nice to meet you, Ryan. I’m Stephanie.” Turning his gaze from me to the book in my hand, he said, “So, you gonna buy the book?”
“I think I will. It figures, I come here to buy a gift for my sister-in-law and end up buying something for myself.” Suddenly, I remembered that I had to get to Bethesda by 6:00, it was 5:15 and I still had to pay and get to the Metro. “Shit, I should really get on line.”
“Ya gotta be somewhere?” he asked.
“Yeah. Bethesda for dinner with the family.”
“Well, how do you feel about ‘Three’s Company’?”
“Huh?”
“Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to get together sometime to discuss preferences—Chrissy, Cindy or Terry?”
Although it was a no-brainer, I responded, “I’d love to.”
After he put my number in his cell, we said goodbye and I made my way to the cash register to pay for the book and Amy’s gift card. I added ten dollars to Amy’s gift as a special thank you for her being the catalyst to my meeting Ryan.
As I left the store, I took one backwards glance inside. Ryan appeared to be deeply engaged in conversation with an elderly couple in the sports section. I smiled to myself and walked out. I’d probably be late for dinner but it wasn’t every day an adorable guy asked for my phone number.
Twenty-nine
After we laughed at the Benihana chef’s traditional “shrimp in the pocket” trick, Sam turned to me and asked, “Are you pregnant, Steph?”
As Amy exclaimed “Sam!” in protest of his question, I shouted, “No! Where the hell did that come from?” I glanced over at the strangers sharing our table, thankful they appeared to be too engrossed in their own meals to overhear.
“I’m just asking because you’re kind of glowing,” Sam said, smiling at me.
“Really?” I asked. I hoped I was already glowing when I met Ryan.
“Yeah. Is it that Hille guy?”
“I’m not pregnant, Sam! For the love of God!”
I knew our neighbors heard me this time when the mustache-clad Tom Selleck look-alike sitting clockwise to us began distracting his kids, pretending to drink his entire bowl of spicy mustard sauce.
“That’s not what I meant,” Sam said. “Mom told me you were hanging out with Hille.” Mimicking my mother’s voice, he said “The genius in the group.” With a straight face, he asked, “Is it serious, sis?” but the sarcasm was not lost on me.
“Not quite. I guess Mom hasn’t given you the latest update! Shocking. Anyway, we’re just friends.” Glancing over at my mother, who was still working on her Miso soup, I whispered, “I actually met a guy this afternoon at the book store. I know nothing about him other than his name and his favorite “Brady Bunch” episode though
, so let’s keep it on the down-low, okay?” I motioned towards my mom. “I don’t want to get her all excited.”
Looking up from her soup, my mom asked, “You don’t want to get mom all excited over what? Did Hille come around? Should I order a subscription to Bride magazine?”
“Not unless you and Al are planning to renew your vows.” I glanced at Al for his reaction but he was slurping up the rest of his soup and wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention.
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