What's Your Number

by Karyn Bosnak

  Before leaving, while waiting for Saul to go over an official list of things with Daisy and Edward, Ruth asks me if Cohlin is my boyfriend. Hearing this question makes my mother sink in her seat. Seeing as though I’m single again because my make-believe ex-boyfriend was a drug addict, she’s not sure what to say. Usually she’d tell whoever’s asking that I work too much, but since I currently don’t have a job, she can’t do that.

  “No, we’re just friends,” I say. “Actually, not even friends—we’re neighbors.”

  “Oh, I see,” Ruth says. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “Delilah doesn’t have much luck in the men department,” Patsy pipes in, deciding to answer for me. Ruth turns to her.

  “Oh no? And why’s that?”

  “Because she either dates losers or she doesn’t date at all!” Patsy laughs after she says this like she joking, but both she and I know she’s not.

  “For your information, Patsy,” I say, sitting high in my chair, “I don’t need a man.” While I try to convince myself that I believe this, I glance over at my mother. She seems horrified by my comments. I mean, what kind of woman doesn’t need a man? A lesbian, that’s what kind.

  Just then Saul, Daisy and Edward thankfully return with the paperwork. After announcing it’s time to leave for my fitting at Saks, I quickly say good-bye to everyone and race toward the elevator bank, hoping to ride upstairs by myself. I want to get out of here. After pressing the button, I wait for a car.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  A few minutes later, an elevator thankfully comes. Just as I step inside, the rest of the group turns the corner and asks me to hold the doors. Reluctantly I do. As we all ride back to the lobby together, I can’t help but notice that my mother is staring at me. She looks like she’s biting her tongue. She’s had one too many glasses of wine and I can tell she’s dying to say something to me. Looking away, I ignore her.

  While walking toward the wedding salon, I feel relieved when I see Colin waiting in the distance and pick up my pace. When Eva spots me and sticks her head out of her bag, I notice that she’s not wearing any of her clothes. Then I notice something else. Then I notice . . . bangs.

  Arriving to where Colin is standing, I pull Eva out of her bag and am horrified at what I see: all her hair’s been cut off, including her handlebar mustache and topknot. As the rest of the group approaches, I hear a collective gasp from behind me.

  “What did you do to her?” I shriek, looking up at Colin.

  “I got her a proper haircut,” he replies innocently. He’s smiling from ear to ear, thinking he’s done a nice thing.

  “And what would possess you to do that?”

  Sensing my unhappiness, Colin’s smile slowly disappears. “Well, uh . . . it’s warm outside today . . . and you had her stuffed in this bag all dressed up like a—”

  “Baby,” Patsy blurts out from behind me.

  Turning around, I shoot her a dirty look.

  “Well sorry, but it’s true,” she says in defense. “That’s why a single woman your age gets a puppy, to satisfy your ticking biological clock.”

  “That’s not why I got her.”

  “Oh, please,” Patsy says, rolling her eyes. “Clothes aside, look at that bag—you might as well get her a stroller.”

  Looking over at Daisy and Edward, I see that they’re laughing. Ruth is laughing, too. The only person who seems to be as horrified as I am is my mother, but she’s not looking at Eva. She’s looking at me. She’s biting her tongue still too. After sending Patsy a subliminal message to BURN IN HELL, I turn back around to Colin.

  “I’m sorry, Del,” he says. “But she looked hot, so I took her to get a haircut.”

  “Where? Supercuts?”

  “No, someplace down the street,” he says, not picking up on the fact that I’m being sarcastic. He looks down at Eva. “What, don’t you like it? I think she looks cute.”

  “She doesn’t look cute,” I say, shaking my head, “she looks like a, a—”

  “Lesbian!” my mom suddenly screams.

  A lesbian? Lovely, just lovely. Ever so slowly, I turn around and look at her. Although she still looks upset, she seems somewhat relieved to have gotten that out.

  “Mom, she’s not a lesbian,” I say slowly.

  “Well, then, I don’t understand—Why is she still single?”

  “Maybe she wants to be single—Have you ever thought about that?”

  “Nobody wants to be single, not forever, not for as long as she has.”

  “Well, then, maybe she can’t figure out what the reason is, and maybe your harping and worrying only makes things worse.”

  “I only harp and worry because I care,” my mom says, her voice softening. “I don’t like seeing her lonely.”

  “She’s not lonely,” I reply, my voice softening as well.

  “Yes, she is.”

  I hold my mom’s gaze for a few seconds and then look away. As I turn back to Colin and Eva, I catch a glimpse of Daisy, Edward, Ruth, and Patsy, all looking very confused. Taking Eva’s bag from Colin, I turn and walk toward the front door. As I do, I hear Daisy mumble: “All that about a dog?”

  sizing up

  A minute later, I’m walking down the street holding my dog, which looks like a Chihuahua—which is what I was going to say. Colin trots next to me, apologizing for the one-hundredth time. The thing is, I’m not mad about the buzz cut anymore. Eva is cute no matter what her hair looks like. I’m just frustrated about everything. I feel aimless, useless. What am I doing with my life? Moreover, what is Colin doing and why is he following me?

  Once I get to Saks, a wedding associate hands me my dress, shows me to a fitting room, and tells me she’ll be back. The dress, a strapless Vera Wang design, is simple and elegant. As I get undressed to slip it on, my cell phone beeps, signaling a message. I stop what I’m doing to listen. “Hi Del, it’s Mom . . .”

  Oh, great. I can hardly wait to hear this.

  “I’m sorry about my outburst at the hotel,” she says. “I guess I’m just looking for an excuse because I don’t understand why you haven’t met anyone yet, and I don’t like seeing you alone. Honey, I worry about you because I think you’re too much like your grandpa when it comes to love. It’s not like it is in the movies. There is no boom. You’re being unrealistic and waiting for a perfect guy to come along, a perfect guy that doesn’t exist. You keep getting caught up in things that are larger than life—ideas, men—things that sweep you off your feet. But easy come, easy go. I’m not telling you to settle, but you need to settle down. In life, in love. Quit making things so difficult for yourself. Quit fighting everything in your life, Delilah, from imperfect men to my hugs. If you relax and give in, you’ll find that it’s much easier to breathe.”

  When my mom’s message ends, I click my phone shut sitting down, I think about what she said. Maybe I do make life more difficult than it needs to be. Maybe I am holding out for a perfect man; maybe that’s my problem. Twenty men—it’s like I wasn’t too picky in having slept with them all, but I was too picky in eliminating them all from being the one, you know? I know I didn’t walk out on every relationship, but I did walk out on a lot of them. Either way, I never tried to make things work with any of them.

  Damn it! I’m more confused now than I was before I left.

  After standing back up, I slip the dress over my head. When I look in the mirror, I’m relieved at what I see—the dress is beautiful. Daisy got it right, all of it—the color, the style, everything—it’s perfect. The back resembles a corset and both zips and laces closed. Although I try, I can’t reach to fasten it, so I peek my head outside the door and look for the bridal associate.

  “She ran out for a minute,” Colin says when he sees me. He’s sitting on a chair outside the fitting room, holding Eva on his lap. “Do you need help with something?”

  “I need to be zipped and laced,” I say quietly.

  “I can do it,” he offers.

 
Hesitating for a moment, I glance down at Eva. He’s dressed her back up in her dress and tiara, no doubt trying to make up for the bad haircut. I look back up. Oh my. He’s so nice and I’m such a bitch. I feel horrible for yelling at him at the hotel.

  “Okay,” I say, and then I let him in the fitting room.

  After putting Eva down on a chair, Colin walks over to where I’m standing on a little pedestal in front of the mirror. Standing behind me, he slowly pulls up the zipper and then begins to tighten the laces, one row at a time. As he does, I can’t help but feel nervous—I feel so exposed. When he finishes, he ties a bow at the top and then gently moves his hands up across the top of my back, resting them on my bare shoulders.

  “Why’ve you been avoiding me?” he asks, as our eyes meet in the mirror. I feel a flash of heat in my face.

  “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

  Colin raises a brow. “Yes, you have.”

  “No, really, I haven’t.”

  Taking me by the shoulders, Colin turns me around so that the two of us are face to face. Standing on the pedestal, I’m almost as tall as he is. “Yes, you have,” he repeats slowly. “You’ve been avoiding me and I wanna know why.”

  Looking at him closely, I don’t say anything right away and instead study his face. In addition to his big brown eyes and chiseled face, he has thick, almost unruly eyebrows and a slight five o’clock shadow. He’s so messy yet so perfect. He’s clearly not vain.

  “C’mon,” he says again. “Tell me.”

  I look down. Although I want to stay strong, his good looks make me weak in the knees. “I don’t know,” I say, instantly let my guard down. “I’m embarrassed, I guess.”

  “Why? Because three of your ex-boyfriends are gay?”

  “No,” I say shaking my head, “it’s more than that.”

  Colin lets out a sigh. “Del, why won’t you tell me what you were doing? Maybe I can help.”

  Looking back at him, I don’t say anything.

  “How ’bout if I tell you something embarrassing about myself?” he offers. “Will that make it easier?”

  “Depends what it is,” I say. “It has to be big embarrassing.”

  “I can do that.”

  I think about it for a bit. “Okay,” I say slowly, eventually giving in. “If you tell me something embarrassing, then I’ll tell you.”

  “Deal.” Colin’s face turns serious as he gets ready to fess up. “Okay, I’ve never told anyone this, but . . .” He pauses, obviously nervous. “I can play the button accordion,” he blurts out. “I can. My mom made me take lessons when I was a little boy, and I can still play to this day.” Looking down, Colin shakes his head, pretending to be beside himself with embarrassment having admitted this. I hit him in the arm.

  “Colin, be serious!”

  He looks up, laughing. “I’m sorry,” he says, “really. It’s just that, after the whole your-dog-is-a-lesbian conversation at the hotel, you’ve been so tense and I wanted to loosen you up.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, even though I’m irritated. “Now, come on. Be serious.”

  “Okay, fine. I will. Sorry, no more jokes, I promise.” The look on his face turns serious once again. “Truthfully . . .” he then says slowly, “I fucked up my soap opera audition. I screwed it up really badly, and it was horrible, the most embarrassing thing ever.” By the look on his face, I can tell he’s telling the truth.

  “How so?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I don’t know what happened. I’m usually pretty confident, but for some reason when I got to the studio where the audition was, I started sizing myself up compared to the other actors in the waiting room. We were all up for the same part. I don’t know why, but I started thinking, That guy’s taller than me and That guy’s better looking, and I started obsessing over stupid shit. Pretty soon I was second-guessing my acting ability, and by the time I got into the room with the producers, my confidence was shot. I forgot all my lines. I kept tripping over my words. They were smirking; it was horrible.” Colin looks down. He looks genuinely disappointed and embarrassed. I feel bad for him.

  “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think it was,” I say, trying to make him feel better. “You’re probably just being hard on yourself.”

  He lets out a little laugh. “Trust me—it was horrible.”

  “Well, there’ll be more auditions, right?”

  “Yeah, but the reason I’m so upset about this is that, after I left, I started rethinking what I’m doing with my life. I started thinking that maybe my father is right, maybe I do need to have a backup plan. This is the first time I’ve ever really doubted myself.”

  Putting my hand on his shoulder, I speak honestly. “Listen Colin, I know I was excited when you told me about this audition, but the more I think about it now . . . do you really want to be on a soap opera anyway? I mean, I know it’s a big deal and all, but—”

  “No,” Colin says quickly, interrupting, “I don’t wanna be on a soap opera. I never have. When I got the call, I was kind of excited because there’s something appealing about a steady job and paycheck, but I didn’t really wanna do it. Do you know what I mean?”

  I nod. “Security is attractive.”

  “I’m not saying I’m too good for a soap opera,” Colin continues, “but there’s other stuff I want to do, other stuff that pushes me and excites me, and this role didn’t do that.”

  “So don’t let something that you never wanted make you feel like a failure then,” I say. “It happened for a reason.”

  “Yeah, yeah . . .” Colin shrugs. “That’s easy to say, harder to do.”

  “Do you have anything else on the horizon?”

  Colin’s eyes light up. “Well, yeah, I met with a director about a role in an independent film he’s trying to get funding for. It’s an amazing script—it’s like a modern-day Irish gangsta thug movie.”

  “Irish gangsters?” I give Colin a funny look. “Is there such a thing?”

  “Absolutely,” he says, trying to act tough. We both laugh.

  After we both compose ourselves, Colin moves my hand off his shoulder and holds it. “Okay,” he says, looking me in the eye, “I shared; now it’s your turn. Why were you tracking down old boyfriends?”

  Damn it. I don’t want to tell him, but I said I would. With that, after taking a deep breath, I begin taking. “Well, about seven months ago, I read a survey . . .”

  For the next ten minutes or so, I tell Colin the truth about everything. I tell him about Roger and Daniel, about Daisy and my mom—I tell him everything. While doing so, he never laughs, smirks, or rolls his eyes. He simply listens intently and nods.

  “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” I ask, when I finish telling him the whole story.

  “No, I don’t think you’re crazy,” he says kindly. “But I do think you’re making a big deal out of something that’s not.”

  “Maybe for a guy this isn’t a big deal, but for a woman it is.”

  Colin shakes his head. “Del, if you’re eighteen years old and you’ve had sex with twenty guys, then yeah, sure, I can understand freaking about it, but not when you’re our age. Also, you can’t compare yourself to an average, or anyone else for that matter, without taking into consideration the quality of the relationships you’ve all had with each guy.”

  I laugh. “Okay, Sally Jesse.”

  “Hey, you wanted me to be serious and I am,” Colin says. “Listen, I guarantee there’s a woman out there somewhere who’s had sex with ten men—half the number you had—yet never knew any of them for more than an hour, never got any of their phone numbers afterward, and never saw any of them again. On paper, her number would be lower than yours, but she’s definitely a little more . . .” Colin searches for the right word.

  “Trampy?” I propose.

  “No, forget I even said that,” Colin says, waving off my suggestion. “Labels aside, the bottom line is that how many people we’ve all slept with isn’t a big deal.
”

  “Oh, right,” I say, rolling my eyes, “like you wouldn’t care if your girlfriend slept with twenty guys before you?”

  “I wouldn’t care because I’d never ask. Whether her number is twenty or one, how would me knowing that affect our relationship? Would it make me laugh harder at her jokes? Would it make us get along better? No. That has no bearing on a real relationship whatsoever. I mean, the fact that a woman is a prude might be exciting for a second—a chase is always fun—but it’s more of a novelty, a wrapper, than anything else. Once you get into a relationship, it’s the meat and potatoes that count, not the package it came in.”

  I struggle with this. I want to agree with him. I want to believe that this is not a big deal, but I can’t. “I see your point, but it’s still hard for me to let this go and pretend it doesn’t matter. Sex aside, something must be wrong with me if I can’t seal the deal. I’ve had twenty intimate relationships, twenty opportunities. And many more that weren’t intimate. What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with you. You just haven’t met the right person yet.” Suddenly a knowing smile comes over Colin’s face. “You know what you’re doing?” he asks, smiling. “You’re doing the same thing I did in that waiting room during the audition. You’re sizing yourself up against your competition, the other women out there, and second-guessing yourself.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, but like you said, I can’t help it.”

  The two of us sit in silence for a bit.

  “You know, to make all this worse, having gone back, I now feel like a bigger screw-up than before I started. I’ve dated nothing but losers. I have poor judgment.”

  Colin lets out a little laugh. “You’re brave.”

  “How so?”

  “You wouldn’t catch me revisiting the ghosts of girlfriends past.”