That bothered me a great deal.
* * *
On the night of the singles mixer, as I stood to the right side of the diner counter, two thoughts warred each other for attention in my head. The first was, “Why did I think this party would be a good idea?”
The event reminded me of every junior high dance I had ever attended. Most of the boys stood in one corner of the room talking about the latest video game technology while the women stood together on the other side, pretending to chat with one another, but instead actually checking out the gaggle of men across the room.
The second thought that beat a consistent tempo through my skull was the insecure thought that all of the other women were prettier than me. Thinner. Cuter. Younger. It didn't help that the only mixed-gender interaction taking place occurred in the middle of the room between the twenty men who had peeled themselves from the pack and the two or three skankiest women in attendance.
The true insult came in the fact that I had even “skanked-up” for the occasion. Knowing we would be competing for attention against women who were likely five years or more our junior, Livvie had convinced me to join her in both raising our hems and lowering our necklines. Extra makeup had been applied, and I even dragged out my curling iron from its home in the back of the linen closet for the occasion.
While I basked in my own personal insecurities, I could at least hold onto one pleasant fact. Livvie had “arranged” for Cory to go to a conference out of town, so I didn't have to worry about her showing up at the diner. I should have felt guilty at the thought of the State budget footing the bill to increase my chances at a date, but I didn't have the heart to care.
It took a while, but an hour or so into the party it looked like the men and women were starting to mingle a bit more. I noticed Livvie talking to a nice-looking man with a blue button-down oxford and I gave her “the look” to silently ask if she needed a rescue. I was happy to receive a very subtle headshake in return – she was having a good time.
Livvie had made me promise that we would work the room separately. We normally stuck together, which might make us too intimidating for some men to tackle. Seeing Livvie having fun gave me the courage to square my shoulders and leap into the fray. The first eye I caught, though, was actually another female friend of mine – Claire – who looked every bit as uncomfortable as I felt. She tapped the shoulder of the man standing next to her and they both walked my way.
“Hi Sarah. This is my brother, Keith.”
“Hi Claire. Hi Keith.” I took her brother's hand with a smile, but was disheartened to find that he didn't even pretend to make eye contact. Something behind my left shoulder had caught his attention and wouldn't let go. Claire and I made small talk for a few minutes, but every time I glanced back at Keith or tried to draw him into the conversation, it was obvious that his interest was elsewhere.
Getting annoyed, I finally looked over my shoulder where I was less than surprised to find a perky brunette standing behind me making googly-eyes at the smitten Keith. She nibbled on her swizzle stick in a manner that would have been considered public obscenity in at least twelve states.
I turned back to Keith and waved dismissively toward the girl behind me. “Oh, just go already.”
“Thanks!” I finally got one sincere smile out of Keith before he bolted.
Claire at least had the good grace to look annoyed by her brother's antics. “Sorry about that.”
I shrugged. “No worries.”
I understood brothers. While David would never have shown such bad manners, Eddie had stood me up numerous times over the course of our lives for a better offer.
She smiled and pointed to my right, in the direction of the diner door. “Don't look now, but someone's giving you the eye.”
I looked up, slightly nervous at what I might find, but was pleasantly surprised to see Morgan smile and nod in my direction. When he hadn't shown up when he said he would, I figured he just chickened out. Smiling, I excused myself from Claire and we walked toward each other, meeting in the middle of the floor. “Hey, you showed up!”
“Sorry I'm late.”
“I'm just glad you showed. Livvie almost didn't let me attend my own party without a single man.” I took a good long look at Morgan as he explained the automotive catastrophe that had led to his tardiness. As my knowledge of cars was limited to adding gas, oil and windshield wiper fluid, I found my mind – and eyes – wandering.
The boy cleaned up good.
Actually, it was more accurate to say that he cleaned down good. I was used to seeing Morgan in khakis and tucked-in, button-down oxford shirts. Once in a while he even mixed it up with a jacket and tie. He always looked very nice at the office, but clearly this was a man that was much more at home in a pair of jeans and a grey thermal Henley. He even sported a gorgeous turquoise stone tied around his neck with what looked like a bohemian looking length of braided hemp. He looked good, but more than that, he looked comfortable.
“So,” he asked, “how did you talk Livvie into letting you in without a single man on your arm?”
“Lucky for me, her single man is late, too. Oh, there he is now.” I spotted Donnie letting himself into the diner, and slipping comfortably through the diner door next to him – as he had done hundreds of times before – was my ex-boyfriend, Ryan.
Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap.
“Sarah, are you alright? Your face just turned really pale.”
“Um, yeah. I'm fine.” I knew that Morgan was less than convinced by my answer, but I was too busy trying to remember if locking your knees prevented or caused someone to pass out.
I thought things couldn't get worse, until Ryan's eyes caught mine and the moment nosedived from horrible to devastating. Devastating, because after two years, a destructive breakup and painful recovery period, my stupid heart still leapt a beat when Ryan Corruchi zeroed in on me with that smile.
That stupid, charming, gorgeous, cock-sure, room-illuminating, heartbreaking smile.
Oh, man, I was going down fast.
Luckily, I remembered a life preserver was standing immediately to my left. “Put your arm around me!” I hissed.
“What? Why?” Morgan's confusion at my behavior turned to concern. “Are you going to pass out? Should you sit down?”
I watched Ryan part through the throng of people, intent on approaching me. Luckily, I still had time to implement my hastily thrown-together plan as he was stalled by the sea of women who – like me – were not immune to his charms.
“The guy with the black coat coming our way. He's my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.” I inhaled sharply, wishing I had a brown paper bag to breathe into, my words tumbling out faster than I could stop them. “Do you remember Cory from the courthouse? He cheated on me. With her. Donnie's the other guy. He's Livvie's ex-husband. I don't know why he's here, but I'm afraid that he wants me back.”
“Donnie?” Morgan asked.
“No, Ryan! Keep up!” I hissed. “I think Ryan wants me back. Donnie kind of hinted he did, anyway. I don't want him back, but he's not going to believe me unless I'm with someone else. Why should he? I'm not even sure I believe me. Maybe I do want him back. But I shouldn't. Anyway, I need you to put your arm around me and pretend you're interested. If you do that, I swear you can make fun of me, undermine my career, do anything you want. I don't care.”
“Sarah, take a breath.” I complied while Morgan continued, “I think I actually caught enough of that to figure out what's going on. Okay – I'll play along, but you owe me.”
I took another breath as the weight of Morgan's arm settled on my shoulders. “Anything.”
My companion smiled – perhaps the correct term was smirked. “Great. You owe me. If you really agree that I can collect anything as payment we'll put on a show that will send this guy packing. Otherwise, I walk.”
“Are you kidding? You're blackmailing me? No way.” I turned away from Morgan and his appealing shoulder. “I'm not going to agree to something unle
ss I know the terms.”
Morgan shrugged. “Okay then. Have fun talking with your ex.”
Oh god. I had one instant to make a choice between two inevitably bad decisions. On my right was Ryan, approximately three steps from reaching me for what purpose I didn't know. Actually, that was a lie. I knew what Ryan wanted. Sure he was a cheat, but he wouldn't have come to the diner just to rub my nose in my single status and he wouldn't try to pick up other girls on my turf.
He wanted me back.
While I didn't want Ryan back, I was honest enough to admit that I did want him – at least on some levels – and I didn't know if I was strong enough to turn him away without help.
On my left, we had Morgan. Sure we were getting along pretty well lately, but he was insane if he thought I would just agree to owe him a favor without knowing what I was signing up for. Had he never seen a mafia movie? These things never ended well.
My brain clicked into gear as I suddenly realized I couldn't think of anything that I wouldn't agree to do.
Free diner food for life? Done.
Take the bar exam for him? No problem.
Re-enact his favorite scene from Showgirls? Let me just grab my pasties and I'm good.
No, I needed to promote the charade that I didn't need Ryan sniffing around. Realizing I really didn't have an option, I jumped in with both feet.
“Sure, Morgan.” I faked a coquettish giggle, both volume and pitch several notches higher than usual as I clamped Morgan's arm back down over my shoulder. “Anything you say.”
“Hi, Sarah.”
I turned to the men who greeted me. “Hi Donnie. Ryan.”
“Hi, Sarah. You look good.”
“Thanks. You too.” And damn if I didn't mean it.
As if sensing my resolve about to crumble, I felt the squeeze – a bit harder than entirely necessary – of Morgan's hand on my arm. “Sarah, honey, aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?”
“Sure. Morgan, this is Livvie's ex-husband Donnie and his friend Ryan.”
Ryan's blue eyes caught mine as he said, “There was a time I was your friend, too, Sarah.”
At the soft cadence of his words, I began to second-guess myself. There really was a time when Ryan was my friend. There was a time I thought we were going to spend our lives together. I started to remember the good times before that one foolish moment with that one foolish girl when it was all gone.
I was about to shrug Morgan's arm off my shoulder and ask Ryan to join me in a corner of the diner to talk about another chance. My shoulder muscles twitched in anticipation, but just before I took action, I noticed Ryan's eyes wander from mine to the swizzle-stick twirling blonde who was now standing just to my left. His eyes were back on me in a moment.
An instant, really. But in that instant my resolve returned.
Maybe Ryan was sorry. Maybe he did miss me. And maybe I missed him, too. But there was no maybe about the fact that I just didn't trust him.
“There was a time you were my friend, Ryan, but that was a long time ago.”
The four of us stood, not knowing quite how to pull the conversation back from its serious tenor when the hostess in me bubbled up. “Does anyone want a drink? I can show you where they are.”
Too many years of serving coffee in a diner led to the odd defense mechanism that left all of my companions looking at me in disbelief.
“Um. No. Thanks anyway.” Ryan looked around the diner, taking in the few changes Uncle Jeremy had made over the last two years. Nothing drastic – a fresh coat of paint, a few more pictures on the wall. “The place looks good. I've missed it.”
I assumed that was my cue to invite him back to the diner during regular hours and end his exile, but that was Jeremy's decision to make.
Before I could think up a safe, inane conversation starter, Ryan again turned serious. “Are you happy, Sarah?”
Morgan took on his role with gusto, giving me a protective squeeze as he pointedly answered for me, “We're very happy. Thanks for asking.”
Ryan turned to Morgan, the soft emotions he reserved for me erased from his face until only an arrogant shell remained. “Yeah. You're both so very happy that Sarah planned a singles party to meet men. Give it a rest, fella.”
Oops. I had forgotten that crucial little detail. Looking at Morgan's face and the way the two men were squaring off, I decided to end the charade.
“Now isn't a good time Ryan.”
My ex turned his attention back to me. “I'm not staying. I just wanted to say hello and ask if I could come by sometime. You know, get a cup of coffee at the old place.”
“No, Ryan. That's not a good idea.”
“Well, if you change your mind.”
“I won't.”
Ryan sized me up and nodded. “You know how to get in touch with me.”
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Don't respond. Don't respond.
He waited a moment, than Ryan turned and left the diner without another word.
An awkward silence reigned as Donnie remained behind. Never awkward for long, though, Donnie looked around the room and rubbed his cupped hands together. “Well, since I'm here in a room full of single girls, I think I'll have a drink.”
I pointed him in the general direction of the refreshments, pulling away from Morgan, and took a moment to collect my thoughts. My first thought, strangely enough, was not about Ryan. It was that Morgan's arm remained around me after Ryan left and I had been the one to pull away.
“Thanks, Morgan. I know that was really awkward for you, but you helped me out of a bind.”
He shrugged. “I think it was a lot more awkward for you. Listen, I think I'm going to take off now, so I'll see you at work on Monday.”
I was confused. He had arrived just moments before the Ryan fiasco and now he was leaving? He hadn't even had a drink or scoped out the local color. “You're leaving?”
“Yup. I got what I came for.”
Nervous by the grin that came over Morgan's face, I questioned, “What does that mean?”
“What does any man want when he comes to a singles party? A date with the prettiest girl in the room.” The grin widened and my nerves ratcheted up a notch.
I saw Morgan when he came through the door, and to my knowledge I was the only one he had spoken to. Who…?
Oh.
OH!
“So, does next Saturday work for you? Do you have anywhere special you'd like to go or do you want me to choose?”
“Morgan, I never agreed to go out with you,” I stammered, completely at a loss.
“Yes you did.” Morgan smiled indulgently as if anticipating my response. “I asked you to agree to a favor, no questions asked. This is the favor. You agreed, so we're going out on a date.”
“But we can't.”
“Why not?”
It seemed like a very simple question, but really the reasons were multiple and incredibly complicated. I decided to start with the easiest roadblock first. “Morgan, we work together.”
“So? I work for Frank, not you. What's the problem?”
“Frank would have a cow. He would go bat-shit crazy if we started dating.”
“I'm not afraid of Frank Murphy.”
I was stunned into silence. Everyone was afraid of Frank. As much as I denied it, even I was a bit afraid of Frank at times. I tried another track. “Until a few weeks ago we barely spoke to each other. This is not a good idea.”
“We're getting along fine now, right?” Morgan waited for me to disagree, but I couldn't and unfortunately, my silence was apparently taken as consent.
“Great! Next Saturday night I'll pick you up at seven.”
Morgan paused, one hand on the door handle, and turned back with a deep smile. “Oh, and by the way, this singles mixer was a great idea. Tell Livvie I said thanks.”
* * *
Considering that we'd only served appetizers and non-alcoholic beverages, I was amazed at the number of dishes a group of fifty odd singles coul
d create. For an hour after the party ended, Livvie and I efficiently cleaned the diner. We were the only two remaining in the large room, having flicked the lights at midnight, announcing to the crowd in accordance with the song, “You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.”
Finally, I reached into the sink of soapy water and released the plug and we launched into our standard post-show wrap-up with full attention and gusto.
“Did you see the tramp Donnie went home with? I mean, seriously. Can you see him bringing her home to meet Nana DiMarco?” Livvie pouted. “Cataracts be damned, when that old woman sees all that bleached hair and press-on nails, she'll keel over from a stroke.”
“I don't think Donnie's plans with that girl included his granny's place for tea,” I gently broke to my friend. “Why do you care, anyway? I saw you being chatted up by at least three guys. Any prospects?”
Livvie perked up considerably at the mention of her good fortune. “Well, there was this one guy – Thomas. Mildly interesting and pretty cute.”
At that moment we both heard the distinctive ‘snick’ of a key turning in the lock of the diner. As it was closing in on two in the morning, we might have been alarmed – if we hadn't already been expecting a visitor.
“Of course, none of the men here tonight were nearly as cute as that David Thornton guy. He's just dreamy…” my friend remarked in an exceptionally loud voice which was meant to be overheard.
“I'm dreamy, huh?” The object of her comments walked over to our table, swung a chair around backward, and straddled it. I handed over my coffee cup and watched him take a sip before continuing, “I couldn't sleep and figured you two would still be up gossiping.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, buddy. You missed the dishes, so you miss the gossip.”
“That's okay. I know how to make you talk.” David smiled, stealing another sip from my mug, then rose and went behind the counter to get a beverage decidedly more adult than the coffee that had grown cold.
In a fluid motion borne from ritual, David reached for the tequila while Livvie got up to grab the shot glasses, and I headed into the kitchen for the limes and salt. We converged back at the small round table and began lining up the drinks.
Next Year I'll be Perfect Page 11