by Terri Osburn
By the time I reached Dad’s man cave, I was already feeling better.
“Hey, pumpkin. What took you so long?” Dad asked as I handed over the pretzels. He set them on the small table beside his recliner, where he hovered on the edge, ready to leap to his feet either in celebration or disgust at any moment. “You’ve missed half the game.”
“Mom made me some pierogi,” I explained, leaving out how my evening started and the tears shed upstairs. “What’s the score?”
“We’re tied at one. Sid is getting slammed from every direction, and the refs aren’t calling shit.”
“So a typical playoff game,” I muttered, digging into my meal.
The man cave hadn’t changed much. The same banners—for the Steelers, Pirates, and Penguins—covered the walls. There was even one for the professional lacrosse team that had represented the city back in the early nineties.
Local colleges were represented, of course. Pitt. Duquesne. And the slightly farther away but equally supported Penn State. The neon Iron City sign Mom bought him for Christmas had been mounted over the bar in the back corner since I was last here. It shared pride of place with the Jerome Bettis signed and framed football jersey that was already there.
In the early days, the basement had truly felt like a cave, since the previous homeowners had installed dark wood paneling when they’d turned the space into a gaming room. Once Dad painted the walls yellow and cleaned up the two windows at the top of the wall where the flat screen now hung, the place had actually become bright and cheerful.
Dad cut a glance my way. “How are things with you? The job keeping you too busy to come see your old man?”
In the past, I’d made a point to visit every Sunday, but lately I was either running an event or recovering from handling several back-to-back.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize, sweetie. That’s how it goes sometimes.”
“But I should make time to see you and Mom.”
“Eh,” he grunted. “You’re young. You don’t need to be hanging out with us old people.”
They weren’t that old. “Dad, you’re only fifty-five. You still play on a softball team, run three miles every morning, and could dance circles around most twenty-year-olds.”
The siren sounded from the television and he slammed a hand down on the side table, crushing the poor pretzels. “Dammit, where’s the defense?”
We watched the replay together and I said, “They were blocking his view of the puck, that’s where they were.”
“Shit,” Dad murmured. “Get it back, boys. Get it back.” The game cut to a commercial and he sat back in his chair. “How are you really doing?”
Swallowing half a pierogi, I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
“You know it’s okay if you aren’t.”
Did I have poor pitiful me written across my forehead?
“But I am fine.” Those were the words I should have tattooed on my forehead.
“I’m just saying, it’s like that show your mom got me to watch a few months ago. The one that said it’s okay to not be okay.”
I froze with my fork halfway to my mouth. “You watched a Korean drama?”
He looked as if I’d caught him stealing a cookie. “I didn’t plan on it but by the end of the first episode I had to know who killed their mom. Anyway,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “if you say you’re fine, then that’s good. But if you aren’t, that’s good too.”
How could it be good to not be fine?
“There’s no need to worry about me, Dad. Really.”
“Who said I was worried?” His attention returned to the TV as he reached for the pretzels. “Just because your eyes are swollen and your nose is red. You’re obviously fine.”
He always was too observant.
“I went through the box that Mom found,” I said, my voice small. “The memories were a little too much.” The pierogi started to taste like sandpaper so I set the plate aside. “Can I ask you something?”
“Ask away,” he replied.
“Would you mind if a woman went to dinner with you even if she didn’t really intend to date you?”
His lips twisted to one side. “I think your mom might have something to say about that.”
“This is a hypothetical, Dad. I’m talking about when you were younger, before you met Mom. Would you have been annoyed to find out you got set up with someone and she only had dinner with you to make her friends happy?”
He looked to be taking the question seriously as he rubbed his chin. “If I took the time to go on the date, I’d be a little annoyed to find out she was never going to be interested.”
Not the answer I wanted to hear.
“Why?”
“Why would I be annoyed?”
“Yes. If you got a nice meal and interesting conversation, what’s the harm?”
He crossed his arms. “The harm is that I’d be wasting my time and not know it. What if I really like her? What if I think she’s someone I want to spend more time with only to learn that she’d already ruled me out before we even met? That doesn’t sound fair, does it?”
I hadn’t thought of it that way, mostly because I hadn’t expected any of these dates to actually like me. And in the end, none of them had. But what if the circumstances had been different? What if even one of them had been a nice, available guy who’d assumed the same about me? Then I’d have been a pretty shitty person for agreeing to do this without ever intending to give him a chance.
“Then it’s better to not go on the date at all,” I decided.
“Maybe,” he said, pouring a handful of pretzels. “Or you could go on the date with an open mind and see how things go.”
Meeting his eyes, I said, “This is just a hypothetical situation, remember?”
Dad nodded. “Sure, it is. I’m just saying that you could, hypothetically speaking, give the guy a chance.”
I could. But did I want to? No matter how the first three dates had gone, I didn’t exactly look like the good guy in this scenario. Instead of canceling the last one, I could take it seriously and see what happened. I still didn’t think anything more than a nice dinner would come out of it, but at least I’d redeem myself in my own mind. And fulfill the promise I made during the group chat.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, before realizing I’d uttered the words aloud. With a noncommittal shrug, I added, “Hypothetically.”
Dad had the nerve to laugh.
Chapter Eleven
After careful consideration, an in-depth discussion with Milo—during which I’d done most of the talking—plus a night of little sleep, I decided to take Dad’s advice. Not only would I keep this last date, but I would go into it without prejudice. No preconceived notions. No bad intentions.
This did not, however, mean that I was suddenly being optimistic. The chances were still slim that I would make a romantic connection, but at least I would be able to walk away from the date—preferably with no further injuries—knowing I hadn’t wasted anyone’s time. And though it was highly unlikely I would run into my holier-than-thou rescuer on a boat floating down the Monongahela… Or would we be on the Allegheny? Whichever river this boat took, there would be no Jacob encounter, but I would still know that if he showed up again, he would have no reason to judge me this time.
And so I started the day feeling pretty positive. Then I reached the banquet hall for the graduation party and positive went out the window. Though Amanda and I were the only planners at the company, that did not mean we did the physical labor ourselves. There were two teams of setup staff that we used for our events. They did the load-in, hung the decorations, and handled breakdown and cleanup at the end. They were also our eyes and ears in many cases, since it was simply impossible to be everywhere at once.
Monique’s crew was on duty for the graduation party and had started the tedious task of blowing up balloons and hanging streamers nearly an hour before I arrived. The
place was decked out in black and red—for the graduate’s school colors—and had been placed exactly to the client’s instructions. Having the crew take care of the details meant I could focus on the client, which was one of the biggest selling points of Three Rivers Events. We were always available when they needed us.
The outside vendors were the problem today. First, the DJ tripped a breaker, which required contacting hall maintenance. Nearly thirty minutes later, an older gentleman finally arrived with a key to access the breaker box. Cords were rearranged to even out the outlet usage and the music was once again up and running.
Then the caterer showed up nearly forty minutes late. After I left four frantic messages, they finally strolled in, delayed because of a flat tire on the way. It was at that point I realized this was going to be one of those days when what could go wrong would, and I’d just have to be ready when it did.
However, to my shock and utter amazement, there were no more problems. The caterer had plenty of food, which the guests loved, and the buffet ran like a dream. The PA system worked without a hitch and the graduate’s father gave a speech that brought the entire room to tears. Thankfully, the napkins were still on the tables, and many were covered in mascara stains by the time he finished. The lady of the hour also gave a speech, this one less tearful but just as heartfelt.
She thanked her parents, her friends, and last but not least, her boyfriend of three years who, she claimed had gotten her through high school without losing her mind or flunking out of calculus. They were both moving on to Penn State in the fall, which explained the extra blue and silver balloons requested for the main table.
Though this reminded me of my own high school days—and my excitement about also attending Penn State with Brian—my emotions did not get away from me like they had the day before. A sure sign that the crying jag had been a moment of weakness brought on by a stressful week and nothing more.
At the two-hour mark, I felt confident that I could leave the partygoers on their own. The last hour was left for dancing and dessert, neither of which required my supervision. After making one last check with the DJ, the caterer, and the graduate’s parents, I was ready to order a car but was cut off on my way to the exit.
“Becca Witherspoon?”
I spun to see a familiar face to which I struggled to put a name. “Yes?” I said, hoping the person would refresh my memory.
“It’s me,” said the willowy brunette with big brown eyes and a wide smile. “Pepper Romano. I haven’t seen you since the reunion.”
How could I forget Pepper? We hadn’t run in the same circles back in high school, but she’d been like the human mascot for our class with more energy than that drumming pink bunny, and enough positivity to make even the most jaded of students experience an unwelcome hit of optimism. I’d often braced when I saw her coming, but her bubbly nature made it impossible not to like her.
The reunion she referenced had taken place mere weeks before my life had changed.
“Of course, I know it’s you,” I said. “Do you know the graduate?”
She nodded. “She’s my fiancé’s cousin. I don’t know her that well, but she seems sweet.”
“She is,” I confirmed. When we planned high school graduations, the parents normally took charge, but not in this case. Amanda had commented that her encounters with Gabby had been more professional than many she had with adults. “So you’re engaged?”
Pepper flashed an impressive rock on her left hand. “Since Christmas. Oh, I should call you about planning it for us. Jackson wants to finish his residency before we pick a date.” She shimmied with excitement. “I still can’t believe I’m marrying a doctor. Holding off on the planning has practically killed me.”
“Well, I’d be happy to help you out. That is what we do.” I pulled a business card from my pocket. It was important to always have them on hand during an event for just such encounters. “It’s never too early to start planning.” I remembered Amanda’s declaration that we were closed to new clients. “Let me give you my cell so you can call me directly.” I flipped the card and wrote my number on the back before handing it over.
“That’s so sweet of you,” she said. “So how have you been?”
“Good. Business is a little crazy right now, going into the height of wedding season, and graduations, of course.”
“But how are you?” she emphasized. “Are you seeing anyone? Not that anyone would blame you if you aren’t. After what happened…”
The pity in her eyes made me feel two inches tall.
“I’m fine. Really. I’m not seeing anyone exclusively, but I am dating.” A statement that would not have been true before this week, but Pepper didn’t need to know that. “Not every girl can be lucky enough to find a doctor, after all. Some of us have to search a little harder to find Mr. Right.”
I was starting to nauseate myself with this dribble. There was a reason I hated small talk. Mostly because I sucked at it. Add defensiveness to the mix, and I became the person I never wanted to be.
“He’s out there,” she assured me. “But you shouldn’t feel rushed. After what hap—”
“I’d really like to stay and catch up,” I cut in, “but I have another event to get to, so I really need to go. Call my cell whenever you’re ready to start looking at venues, okay? We’ll catch up more then.”
Rushing through the door before she could respond, I stood beneath a weathered green awning and watched a steady drizzle soak everything in sight. Worried she might come out to find me lingering about, I took a few seconds to order a car before pulling an umbrella from my bag and moving farther down the building to the corner to wait. Thankfully, the driver was only a few minutes away.
That was just long enough for Pepper’s words to play over and over in my mind. Was that what everyone thought? Poor Becca? Yes, what happened two years ago sucked. It sucked a lot. But the last thing I wanted was to be pitied. I had a life. A satisfying one. Not wanting to date didn’t mean I was some sad spinster that people should feel sorry for.
As my ride pulled up, I grew even more determined to make the most of this last date. I’d show everyone. Poor, pitiful Becca was absolutely fine. Better than fine. She was ready to move on. In fact, this guy was about to have the best date of his life. Better than any date he’d ever had. I’d show them. I’d show them all.
“I’m telling you, Megan, I have nothing to wear.”
My friend’s gaze shifted from the bed, which was covered in no less than ten dresses, to the closet and back to me. “You have a million things to wear. Why are you freaking out? This isn’t like you.”
Frustrated, I tossed another dress onto the pile and the hanger smacked Milo in the head, causing him to bolt out of the room with an angry snarl. “Sorry, buddy.” To Megan I said, “This is my first date in years, and I want to make a good impression.”
Blinking, she crossed her arms and leaned against my dresser. “You’ve had three other dates just this week. Did you forget about those?”
Shoot. Me and my big mouth. “I—”
“Come to think of it, I don’t recall you being this nervous or meticulous about any of those. You haven’t been taking these seriously, have you?”
Why hadn’t I thought of this before calling her over?
“Maybe I didn’t give my best effort, but—”
“But what?” she cut in. “Did those dates really go as badly as you said?”
She couldn’t really think I made all that up. “I have been completely honest about every minute of those dates. They were horrible, and I have the bruising and liquor-stained clothing to prove it. But I’m taking this one seriously, and I didn’t call you over here to interrogate me.” Dragging two more dresses from the closet, I held them up in front of me. “What about these ones?”
“The yellow,” she said without hesitation.
Looking at the frilly number, I said, “Really?”
“Yes. Yellow looks amazing on you, and that dress is the p
rettiest thing you own. Now tell me why.”
“Why what?” I asked as she carried dresses from the bed back to the closet.
“Why this guy? You obviously wrote off the rest of our picks, so why is Lindsey’s worth all of this fuss?”
How did I explain that I was trying to prove a point to a total stranger that I would never see again? Not that Jacob’s reaction was the only reason I was doing this. The talk with Dad had changed my view on a few things, especially when he’d echoed Jacob’s statement about wasting the other person’s time. Then there’d been Pepper’s pity party that sent me over the edge.
Maybe all of this was the universe’s way of telling me I was ready to try again.
“Do you know the story of how Brian and I met?” I asked.
“In high school,” she said. “We all know that.”
“I mean how we met in high school.” I dropped onto the stool in front of my vanity. “It was Lindsey. She sat next to him in homeroom sophomore year and insisted that he was the perfect guy for me.”
Megan’s eyes went wide. “How did I not know that?”
Shrugging, I said, “It never came up, I guess. I’m not delusional enough to think this date is going to turn into my happily ever after. I just want to remember what it feels like to be out with a guy and have a nice time. Maybe it won’t go any better than the first three, but I’ll know that this time I gave it my best shot.”
Milo jumped up on the vanity and headbutted my shoulder as Megan said, “What if this guy does turn out to be the one?”
The response in my brain was loud and instantaneous. I already found the one. But maybe there was a different the one out there somewhere. Who was to say I couldn’t love someone else? It wouldn’t be the same, but different didn’t necessarily mean it couldn’t be just as good.
“Stranger things have happened.” I rubbed Milo’s chin. “He’ll have to like cats though, right, buddy? You and me are a package deal.”
Megan snorted. “Good luck getting Milo to share you with anyone. Now let’s get you dressed. What time are you meeting this guy?”