Good On Paper

by Jennifer Millikin

  “Ahh, but if Dr. Sexy is there, the trip might be worth it,” Savannah counters, one finger lifted in the air.

  “Dr. Sexy?” Sydney reaches over and swipes a slice of apple from Savannah’s plate. “Do tell.”

  I shake my head. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  Savannah gives me a look. “Except that there is.”

  “Out with it,” Sydney says around a mouthful of apple.

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “The doctor who stitched me up was cute. End of story.”

  “Not the end of story,” Savannah states. She looks at Sydney. “He asked for her number.”

  Sydney’s eyes widen. “Did you give it to him?”

  “Savannah made sure he got it.” I open the fridge and peer into it. I’m not hungry, but I want something to do with my hands while I’m being interrogated.

  “You bet I did,” she says proudly.

  “Doesn’t matter.” I close the fridge and walk away. “I don’t want to see him.”

  “At some point, you will,” Savannah insists.

  And what point will that be? When Aidan tells me the gender of his baby? Or when I receive the begrudgingly sent invitation for Allison’s baby shower? Those things loom in the distance like dark clouds dancing over the horizon. I wish I could shut my eyes and turn my back on them.

  I realize that I can’t. I can’t quit life. I can’t quit showing up for my friends and family. Even when that means showing up for Aidan with a smile on my face, even when my heart is crying.

  “Hey,” Savannah says, leaving the kitchen and coming to my side. She places an arm over my shoulders and pulls me in tight. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to go out tonight. You’re going to put on something hot. You’re going to ring in the New Year like it’s your job. This next year is going to be your best. Trust me.”

  I do as Savannah says because it’s so much easier. I wear a red dress with a low-cut neckline. I drink champagne, and at midnight, I kiss my sister’s cheek. Aidan calls a few minutes after. I duck out of the bar to get away from all the noise. The street isn’t that much better, but at least I’m away from the cacophony of voices.

  “Happy New Year.” His deep voice is low and gravelly, wrapping around my champagne soaked thoughts and sneaking into my heart.

  “Happy New Year,” I echo, the words slipping slowly from my throat.

  He chuckles. “Have you been enjoying the champagne?”

  I giggle. “Veuve.”

  “The good stuff.”

  “Savannah's boyfriend was being generous.”

  “I see.”

  “Did you have fun tonight?” As wrong as it is, I hope the answer is no.

  “I didn't go anywhere if that's what you're asking.”

  “Did you have people over?” Let’s be honest, that’s not what I’m actually asking.

  His low laughter rumbles through the phone. “Allison wasn't here.”

  “Am I that transparent?”

  “No. I just know you that well.”

  Cradling the phone between my ear and my shoulder, I cross my arms in front of myself and try to warm up as much as I can. In my haste to answer Aidan’s call, I left my jacket inside.

  “Natalie, I'm not sure what to say.”

  “Me either,” I respond, my voice low.

  “How about we go see one of those old movies I hate? What’s playing?”

  Closing my eyes, I tip my chin up to the sky. Relief trickles down through me at Aidan's invitation of doing something so normal. “I’ll check and let you know.”

  “If you don't call me in two days, I'm going to call you back.”

  I smile. “You better.”

  “Bye, Natalie.”

  “Bye, Aidan.”

  I look down at my phone and watch it darken. I might be standing out here in the freezing cold, but I'm happier than I’ve been all night. With a stupid grin on my face, I turn and head back to the front door of the bar. And right into the shoulder of a tall guy in a black pea coat.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, staggering back a couple feet. I regain my footing and look up to see who I attempted to mow down. The guys face is nearly slack, as if his facial muscles have given up for the night. He looks at me through slitted eyes, and a loose, lazy smile pulls up one side of his mouth.

  “Well, hello there,” he says, taking a step toward me.

  Automatically I back up, and at the same time two of the people he is with grab onto each of his shoulders.

  “Sorry, he’s drunk,” one of his buddies explains, as if it’s not obvious.

  My eyes widen when I see who is holding onto the drunk guy’s right shoulder.

  “Dr. Decker?”

  He squints. “Lollipop?”

  “That's not my name.”

  He laughs. “I know that, Natalie. Lollipop is how I've been referring to you in my head.”

  I stiffen. That means he has been thinking about me. I haven't thought of him at all, not until Savannah brought him up earlier today.

  Dr. Decker’s friend sways, causing the men on either side of him to sway also. “Whoa, Brad.”

  “Whoa yourself, Dr. Decker,” Brad says, snickering.

  Ignoring his friend, Dr. Decker looks at me and says, “We should probably get him home.” Brad starts walking away, taking the two guys with him. Dr. Decker looks back at me and I wave.

  “Grady,” he says.

  “What?” I must've heard him wrong.

  “My name,” he shouts. He’s two storefronts away now. “It’s Grady.”

  The crowd on the sidewalk swallows him, and soon all I can see are three heads bobbing farther and farther from me.

  “Bizarre,” I murmur and go back into the bar. I find Savannah and Sydney and tell them what happened.

  “It’s a sign,” Sydney says drunkenly.

  “A sign of what?” I ask.

  "I don't know,” she mutters, laying her head down on my shoulder.

  Savannah says goodbye to Drew, and the three of us head back home. When Sydney is lying in bed beside me snoring, I pull out my phone and bring up the picture Aidan used for my online dating profile.

  I stare at it and pray we can make it through this.

  22

  Aidan

  Natalie and I have seen four movies in four weeks. Allison is fifteen weeks pregnant and has begun to show. I still haven’t told my mother.

  But I’m about to. She and my dad asked me to get lunch with them and considering this week Allison and I have an appointment to learn the gender of the baby, I guess it’s time. Allison asked if she could come today, but I told her it would be best if I told them alone. I don’t know what they’ll say, and I don’t want her present for that. They can meet her another time.

  Allison wants to be a family. In some ways, she is a lot like Natalie. She wants things to be the way the world thinks they should be. I know she wants that, but am I supposed to give it to her? I keep waiting. I take her out for dinner, for walks, to get green smoothies. I’m stepping into the role of expectant parent like I’m supposed to, but I’m still waiting for it to happen. To feel something for her. To feel connected to the life growing inside her.

  Maybe the reason it isn’t happening is because I can’t get Natalie out of my head. When I’m not with her, which is often, I’m thinking of her. Her smile, her sense of humor, her playfulness. Last week I saw a homeless man fall in the street, and immediately I thought of how Natalie would’ve hurried to help him. I was across the street and couldn’t get there in time, and by the time the cars passed, and I could see him again, people had already come to his aid. Natalie would’ve teared up over that, and I would’ve pulled her close and kissed away her sadness.

  When I arrive at the restaurant, I learn my parents are already seated. They both stand up when they see me coming and hug me when I reach the table.

  My mom sits down and rubs her hands together, her eyes gleaming. “I have some good news for you. Well, Natalie really. I j
ust came from my editor's office.” Her shoulders shake with her excitement. “My editor loves her book. She wants to meet with Natalie.”

  I beam, wishing badly that Natalie were here so I could watch her digest this news. “She’ll be thrilled.” I always knew her dreams were going to come true. For a person as good and kind as Natalie, the universe had to come through for her. It just had to.

  “You should've brought her to lunch today,” Dad says, taking a sip of his wine and setting it back down on the white linen tablecloth.

  The waiter stops by our table and I order an iced tea. Pulling my hands together on the tabletop, I lean forward, glancing back and forth between my parents. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  Mom's eyes get big. “Is Natalie pregnant?” She slaps a hand over mouth, and a muffled ‘sorry’ slips out.

  I shake my head. “No, but Allison is.” Boom. Bomb dropped.

  My parents both wear a look as if someone has told them aliens will be joining us for lunch.

  “Who is Allison?” my dad asks.

  “A woman I was seeing before Natalie. It was very casual.” I remove my hands from the table and wipe my palms on my jeans. It's not easy trying to find the nicest way to explain to my parents that Allison was somebody I met just for sex.

  I sit back, giving my parents some time to absorb the news. Dad takes a big gulp of his chardonnay. Mom captures her lower lip between two fingers and twists.

  Releasing her lip, she says, “You’ve really managed to fuck this up.”

  “I know.”

  “Where does Natalie fit into this?”

  Staring at the iced tea the server placed in front of me, I say, “Natalie and I are still friends.”

  I look up into my mother’s knowing eyes.

  “No more than that?” she asks.

  “Natalie reacted the way I knew she would. She bowed out.”

  “She wanted to give you the chance to explore this situation with Allison. She didn’t want to be in the way.” Dad places his hand over my mother’s. “I know someone else who is like that.”

  Mom uses her free hand to pass over the top of Dad's hand. “Anyone who has ever said that love should only feel good, is a fool.”

  It’s a famous line from the book she wrote about herself and my father’s relationship. It's been printed on T-shirts and mugs. Readers have tattooed it on themselves and then mailed their pictures to my mother.

  I push around ice cubes with my straw. “I understand that. But does it have to feel so damn awful?”

  “It can only feel really bad if at first it was really good.”

  “Which book is that from?”

  My mom taps her head with a finger. “That was from up here.” She moves her hand over her heart. “And here.”

  For the rest of lunch, I tell them more about Allison. We talk about how far along she is, and by the end, my parents are hesitant but in the beginning phase of excitement. I promise to call them as soon as I know the gender. They would like to meet her, so I promise to make plans for that also.

  We part ways, and I know my mother is on her way home to call Natalie. It's the first sliver of happiness I’ve felt since I saw Allison standing across the street from school on that snowy day. I only wish I was sharing in the happy news with her.

  After what happened with Henry, and then me, Natalie deserves a win.

  23

  Natalie

  I'm in the middle of a complicated braid when my phone rings. I lean over, glance at the screen, and drop my hair.

  “Diana, hi. How are you?” I brush aside the hair that has slipped out of the plait and into my eyes.

  “Natalie! It's good to hear your voice. I've missed you.”

  The apologetic tone of her voice tells me she knows about me and Aidan.

  “I've missed you too.”

  “I have to be honest, I didn't just call because I missed you. I have some good news for you.”

  Thank fuck. I could use some.

  “My editor loved your book. She wants to meet with you.”

  I let out a noise, a cross between a squeal and what I imagine an otter sounds like. Diana laughs. “I told you the news was good.”

  “That's the best news I've had in a while.” My nose starts to burn and I’m struggling to keep the happy tears at bay.

  “So I've heard.”

  “You have?”

  “Aidan told us today, at lunch. How are you?”

  “Not great,” I admit.

  “I'm sorry, Natalie. This wasn't the way things were supposed to go.”

  The tears that were happy quickly turn sad. “I thought Aidan and I were going to sail off into the sunset.”

  "You know what you can do now? You can write your own happy ending. Literally. You can turn this into a book. Friends-to-lovers. Something along those lines.”

  I sniff. “Look at that, I already have an idea for book two. Provided by none other than the First Lady of romance.” I turn serious. “Thank you, Diana. For giving me a chance.”

  “I got you in the door, but your work stood on its own two feet. Don't discount that.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She chuckles. “Will you come and see me sometime soon?”

  “Of course.”

  “Keep your head up, okay sweetie? Everything will work out. I have a good feeling.”

  We hang up and I squeal a second time, only this time it's much louder than before. Then I pick up the phone and call Sydney. When she doesn't answer, I leave her a rambling voicemail. Just as I am about to set down the phone, a text message from an unknown number comes through.

  Hi, Natalie. This is Grady. Or Dr. Decker, as you called me on New Year’s Eve. Would you be interested in a gin and tonic sometime?

  Maybe it's my giddiness over the book.

  Maybe it’s the fact that I'm so fucking sick of hurting.

  I respond and accept his offer.

  The bar where I've agreed to meet Grady is only a few blocks from my place. It's old school, with the booths tucked away in corners, and dark lighting. Grady waves when I walk in. His hair is freshly cut and neatly combed. He wears a light blue sweater over a white collared shirt. He is handsome and a doctor, making him every mother's dream for her daughter.

  The closer I get to his table, the more I realize that his hair annoys me. It's too perfect. I want to run my hands through it and mess it up. Is the rest of Grady just as boring as his hair? Maybe not. He had a good bedside manner when he was stitching me up. He was funny. Perhaps these traits can make up for his humdrum hair.

  Shedding my jacket, I placed it on the back of the chair and sink down. Grady signals for the server, and when she comes over he orders a gin and tonic for me.

  “Is that alright?” he asks, his eyebrows forming a ‘V.’ “Would you prefer something different? I can call her back over here.”

  I wave him off. “No, that's perfect. Thank you.”

  Grady smiles at me. He leans back and crosses one ankle over the opposite knee. “So, who did you kiss on New Year's Eve?”

  His question takes me by surprise. “Excuse me?”

  “The last time I saw you, it was right after the clock struck midnight. It wasn't until I got home that night that I thought about who was lucky enough to have your lips on theirs.”

  I shake my head. “Nobody. Unless you count my sister.”

  Grady blinks twice. “You kissed your sister?”

  “On the cheek,” I clarify.

  Grady narrows his eyes. “You didn't kiss a fella?”

  I laugh at the word fella. “I didn't kiss a fella. Or bite any piggin’ string. Did you kiss a dame?”

  He nods. “Of course. How else do you ring in the New Year?”

  “Did you know her? Or was she a stranger?” The server sets my drink down in front of me and walks away.

  “Stranger,” Grady says nonchalantly.

  “You kissed a stranger?” I ask, incredulous.

  “Isn�
�t that what New Year's Eve is all about?” He grins. “Scratch that. I know that's not what it's all about. Besides, she kissed me more than I kissed her. Anyway, let’s move on to a different topic. What did you do today?”

  I sip my drink and tell him, “I went to the Social Security office and filed for a name change.”

  He pauses mid-reach for his drink. “I wasn't expecting you to say that.”

  I chuckle. “I’m changing my last name back to Maxwell.”

  Grady has regained his composure and now has his beer firmly in his grip. “Back to?”

  “My divorce was final a few months ago.”

  “You hardly look old enough to be divorced. You hardly look old enough to have been married."

  Maybe I should just tell him that I'm still suffering from a broken heart from another man, and then I can watch him sprint out of here.

  I smile at the thought and tell him I’m gathering fodder for my future novels.

  He asks me about writing, and I share with him my most recent good news. “I called the editor yesterday. Her secretary set me up for a meeting in two weeks.”

  He grins and shakes his head. “I can't believe I know somebody famous."

  I wag my finger at him. “Not yet.”

  “You will be. I believe in you.”

  My smile falters. Aidan has said that exact same thing to me, countless times.

  Our date lasts another forty-five minutes. Grady talks about growing up in New York City, and like many other times in my life, I feel grateful my parents raised me in the suburbs. When Grady asks about my parents, I give him basic information. The less detail about them, the better.

  Grady walks me out of the bar, and I thank him for the drink. We stand there, locked in that awkward moment at the end of the date. He leans in like he's going to kiss me, and I freeze. At the last moment, I turn my head and his lips land on my cheek.

  He pulls back, an embarrassed smile dusting his lips. “I'll see you again soon?” His tone is hopeful.

  “Sure,” I answer before turning to walk away. I'm going in the wrong direction of my apartment, but I don't care. I just have to get away.