ME: I’m in until I figure out how to explain my issues to a therapist who will then order me to leave the guys of Greater Dallas alone until I pull myself together.
JAY: *Holds up imaginary glass for a toast* To fun times until the therapist gets involved!
ME: *Clinks glass* To fun times until you find a friend with better benefits.
JAY: You’re pretty funny.
ME: Thanks. I steal all my jokes from sitcoms.
JAY: Ha. Can I ask a serious question before we move on?
ME: No.
JAY: I’m asking anyway. What exactly messed you up so much?
ME: True love.
JAY: True love is the worst.
ME: Especially when it turns out it wasn’t really true love. Just unrequited love. Because a no-big-deal, end-of-a-date kiss is not the only thing I’m an emotional fourteen-year-old about.
JAY: I think you’re kind of hard on yourself.
ME: Not hard enough. Should have been talking tougher to my mirror a long time ago.
JAY: All right. Well, the next time I feel like doing something fun, I’m probably still going to call you.
ME: I’m going to say yes.
JAY: Gotta go. Catch you later.
I signed off and stared at the screen for a long minute. Despite feeling stupid, I did have a clear conscience. I’d been up front. And I’d watch Jay carefully to make sure he was as laid back about everything as he seemed. That meant I could text Sophie to report. I warned Jay he’s dealing with a crazy person. He’s cool with it. Now. Time to flip the script with Will again. Wish me luck.
LUCK!!!
The next text went to Will. Hey.
He texted back as fast as Sophie had. Hey.
It’s been a weird couple of weeks for me.
Weird over here too.
Everything good?
Depends. Are you good? Because if you are, then I am.
No. Everything is off-kilter.
Yeah.
So maybe we straighten it out.
How?
Instead of answering, I walked down the hall and knocked on his door. He yanked it open before I’d even knocked a third time.
“Hey,” he said, his eyes searching my face. “I’m glad you’re standing here, but I feel like I have no idea what the rules are and what I should or shouldn’t say.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
He stepped aside to let me through, and I headed straight for his fridge and a bottle of Gatorade. I turned to face him, and his face relaxed the tiniest bit around his mouth.
“That’s almost like old times,” he said and grimaced. “I don’t know if I should have said that. Maybe that’s the last thing you want.”
I climbed into his easy chair and drew my legs up to my chest. “I want us to figure out how to be real with each other.”
He collapsed onto the sofa and dropped his head into his hands to stare at the floor. “I thought I knew how to do that.” He looked up at me, confusion in his eyes. “You changed everything.”
I nodded. “I get that it seems that way. But one of the things I figured out is that I haven’t been real with you in years. But we’re connected through Dave pretty much forever, and if we’re going to get through this with any kind of grace, I’ve got to start being real. Beyond that, I have no idea what I want. I’ll have to spend some time figuring that out.”
“Is . . . do you . . . um.” He stopped, and I hated the halting words. I hated that it was my fault. I wasn’t sorry I had told him. But I was sorry for the way I had done it.
“Sucks, huh?” I asked. “That’s on me, I think. I wish I could tell you I knew how to fix this. I don’t. I just know that I want to. Maybe we have to try a bunch of things until we hit a groove. Good news is we have plan A out of the way. Avoiding each other and pretending like you don’t exist seems like a stupid plan in hindsight. I guess that means we hang out again. But in a cards-on-the-table kind of way. So what do you want?”
“For us to be friends again. It stresses me out to even say that, like maybe it’s the wrong thing. I mean, if I really liked a girl and she said . . .” He trailed off when I lifted my head to glare at him. “See? I can’t get this right.”
“You were doing pretty great until the last part.” I straightened and rolled my half-empty Gatorade bottle between my hands. “‘Cards-on-the-table’ means it’s good to know that you want to be friends. I want that too. But I also don’t want to talk about my stupid feelings or my stupid confession.”
“It wasn’t stupid. Feelings aren’t stupid, are they? They are what they are.”
I shrugged. “Whatever. I’d be glad to never talk about it again. But I’m good with figuring out the friends thing.”
“We could make a plan.” Good ole Will. He was perking up at the idea, like he was going to draft a schematic for a rocket-engine part. I snorted, and he looked up at me, but I didn’t explain. Why not do a schematic? It’s not like my approach had worked. “Can we hang out again?”
“Yes. But less. Smaller doses is best for me.”
He didn’t look happy about that, but he nodded. “Cool. What else?”
“The faster we move on, the better. That means you need to get serious about finding your wife, dude. Once I know you’re locked down, maybe it will force the pragmatic side of me to move on. And I guess that means I have to move on too. Rebound. Hard.”
His forehead wrinkled like he wanted to say something, but he pressed his lips together.
“What? Spit it out. It’s fine.”
He shook his head.
I started to nudge him with a foot, a lazy poke like I would have done before, but I set my foot back down and cleared my throat, realizing I was going to have to add something else to the plan in a minute. “It’s fine, Will. Say what you were going to say.”
“You sure about the rebound thing? I mean, I’d expect an idiot guy like me to do something like that on purpose, but you’re a decent human being.”
“Um, thanks? Maybe? I can’t tell if you complimented me or judged my choice on this.”
“Both, I guess.”
I smiled at him. “That’s probably good. It’s something a friend would do.”
He smiled back. “Progress.”
“Don’t worry about it though. I’m rebounding with someone who’s fully aware of what he’s walking into.”
His smile disappeared. “As your friend—”
I put a hand up. “Stop. If you’re about to warn me against this, ask yourself this: If Dave were telling you this as his plan for himself, what would you do?”
He was quiet for a long moment. “Fist bump him,” he admitted.
I held up my fist. He shook his head and bumped it.
“Let me do my thing, Will. I spent all these years trying to convince you I’m a big girl, but I really don’t have anything to prove. I can handle myself. I’ll be all right, and no guys will be harmed in the making of this new Hannah.”
“Old Hannah is fine.”
“Old Hannah has some growing up to do. That’s what cowboy-ing up with you right now is about. You’ve been my most unhealthy habit since I was fifteen, Will. Last time I went through a bad-habit-breaking process, I lost fifty pounds.” I pointed at him and smiled. “This time I gotta lose about one eighty.”
“Ouch.”
“Suck it up, buttercup. I am. And I’m the broken party here.” But I smiled as I said it, and he shook his head and smiled back. “Here’s another thing.” I took a deep breath, and Will’s eyebrows rose. “I need physical distance from you. No wrestling. And stuff.” I wanted to die for a few seconds and be revived when my face was a normal color again. I wasn’t going to spell out that Will’s touch had an effect on me, and if he picked this moment to try going back to our old joking rapport and tease me about it, I really might die.
His cheeks flushed a tiny bit too. All he did was stare at the floor and nod. It almost made me feel worse, like he was trying to look away to
give me some privacy because it was an embarrassing condition for me to have.
I pushed past it and gave him the next thing I’d thought of. “No barging into each other’s apartments.”
“Right. Boundaries, I guess, huh?”
“Yeah. Plus I don’t want to explain to Jay why the guy down the hall feels like he can walk into my place whenever he wants.”
“Jay. That’s the guy you were . . .”
I nodded. “My super helpful rebound.”
His cheeks went darker, and his eyebrows drew together, but all he said was, “Fair enough. I’ve had to explain you to my dates often enough.”
“Yeah. Sorry. That was one of my idiot strategies. I’m done. I swear.”
He leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head, staring at the blank TV instead of me. “To sum up, we’re friends again.”
“Not again,” I said, not able to help the interruption. “We were always friends. We were always just friends. But now I accept it.”
“So we’re friends. I won’t wrestle you like I’m Dave. I’ll be careful about what I say in front of you about other girls. I’ll stay out of your”—he paused to swallow—“out of your love life. But somehow we’re still keeping all our cards on the table? Being totally honest about stuff?” He shook his head. “I’m not sorry you told me how you—”
I cleared my throat in warning, and he nodded his head and rephrased.
“I’m not sorry you told me what you did, but cards on the table—I hate that it changed.”
“I get it. I’m sorry for making it so weird. But cards on the table is what will help us make that friendship comfortable for both of us. Eventually. I definitely don’t want to hear the details of your wife hunting. But I want to know that you’re getting closer to happily ever after. The closer you get, the more it will free me up to find mine. I’m sure of that.”
He sighed. “Whatever you need, Hanny.”
My heart tripped at the nickname. Shake it off. “Thanks.”
“Cards on the table?”
“Yeah. Shoot.”
“I feel like we’ve had some sort of breakup or something. Or not a breakup. I don’t know. I have no idea how to explain this, but Dave and I have never had a fight, and I kind of wonder if this is how it would feel if we did.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. I think I’m saying that I’ll do this however you want, but it’s not going to be the same, and it kind of sucks. Okay, I’m putting more cards on the table.”
“We have a lot of cards.”
“Triple deck, easily. Here’s what I’m dealing out with this hand. Part of me is kind of mad at you for changing everything.”
I took that in and weighed it. I appreciated the honesty, but it still didn’t feel good, exactly. “Can we go back to the hand where you were sorry for being so oblivious and more of the bad guy in the scenario?”
“Take your lumps, Becker.”
“That right there is proof we’ll get to normal. I’ll prove it.” I stood up and pulled his laptop off his coffee table.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting the real you out there for women to find. That’s all anyone worth anything will ever need to know to want to date you. Take it from an expert,” I joked, and Will flushed again, but he smiled. “So I’m tweaking your profile, and I’ll do it right.”
“You don’t have to do that.” He reached over like he was going to take it from me, but I shooed him back to his cushion.
“I do have to. Remember? Get you on your way so I can get on mine?” He was silent, but I could tell he was biting the inside of his bottom lip. That was his “tough problem” tic. “What’s up?” I asked.
“It doesn’t feel right to let you redo my profile. The more I look back on it, the worse I feel that I ever let you write it at all. But I’m clueless, not a creep. Hand me back my laptop. This isn’t your job.”
“I was wrong to interfere with your goals. I need to make it right.”
Will stared at the blank TV screen again, unfocused. He gave himself a shake. “Okay. Do it. Put what you see as the real me out there. Tell the world about all my obsessions and fixations.”
“Hush. I got this.” I tapped out his new profile message, totally sure of what needed to happen.
Dear world,
Allow me to introduce the best big brother a girl ever had, the guy in the picture to the left: Will. He let me take over his page for a minute because I said I could do a better of job of explaining him than he can. He’ll tell you the facts about himself, but I’ll tell you the whole truth.
Will is made of awesome. He’s got a sense of adventure the size of Mt. Everest, which he’ll climb someday, I’m sure. And he’s got a sense of curiosity as deep as the Grand Canyon. So not only is he always up for an epic life experience, but he’s totally there and present all the way through. He’s asking questions about the people, learning about the place, understanding how the small part of the world he’s standing in relates to the whole.
He’s generous to a fault. Whether it’s money for a panhandler or time for his friends, he gives without grudge or complaint. And he has no idea how amazing that is. It seems like the right thing to do, so he does it. It’s that simple.
And that’s another thing about Will. He’s both simple and complicated. He has a brain like you wouldn’t believe. He’s literally a rocket scientist. He’s worked on stuff that’s out in space right now, collecting data and advancing science. He disappears sometimes in his thought experiments, but he always comes back to you.
You will have to watch a lot of sports. Or at least understand why he does. It’s partly because of all the complicated things happening in his brain. Calculating the trajectory of a hit or the speed of a pitch is actually relaxing to him. Baseball is the top of the list. He’ll tolerate football, but he perks up again for hockey. You’ll have to roll with it all because . . .
He’s not that guy that will disappear into sports and you’ll never see him because there’s always a game on somewhere. He’s loyal to his hometown teams. That’s it. Astros and Rockets fans will be incompatible. Sorry. But you get so much of Will between games. Hilarious conversations, spontaneous trips to an out-of-the-way restaurant because “why not?” Conversations about the world, our place in it. Talks about your problems. He’ll solve them if you let him, but he’ll listen if that’s what you tell him you need.
He is fiercely protective. He gives the best hugs ever. His smile can turn a bad day around. His friendship is worth anything. Everything.
Good luck. He’s special. I hope you are too. He deserves that.
I hit “post” and then held up my phone to snap a picture of him. I tried to take in the details as an impartial observer. He was in a black T-shirt, his hair mussed, and he needed to shave. In other words, he looked like a Calvin Klein model. I’d gone weak in the knees when he opened the door. I hadn’t really steeled myself against it, even after being in his place for almost an hour.
But the analytical part of my brain recognized that this picture was the shot that would be fired around the Dallas dating world, the one that would kill any chance I had with him as it brought women out of the woodwork. It was exactly why I had to take it. Except for one small thing . . .
“What are you doing?” He eyed the phone in exasperation. “You already took a profile picture.”
“Six Flags, 2002, the Shock Wave.”
He looked startled, then grinned. I snapped the shot as he remembered the time we’d gone on the roller coaster four times in a row and Dave had vomited on the loop-de-loop during the last ride, sending puke spraying everywhere.
I checked the photo. It was so perfect it hurt. I clicked and swiped a few times and got it uploaded to his profile.
Yeah, game over. Some amazing women were about to discover him. The perfect one wouldn’t be able to help it. I’d given her everything she needed to know to make her way
to him.
I shut the laptop, as drained as the battery was. “You’re set. I gotta go. Stuff to do.” Like lie in the dark and find my breath again. Like make my heart go back to the right rhythm instead of this accelerated tap dance it was doing. Like calm my stomach down, make the hollow inside of it go away. I stood and leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. “Bye, Will.”
Chapter 19
I had turned off my phone when I got home, but when I woke up the next morning, a few texts popped up from Will. He’d sent the first an hour after I’d left.
I read the profile. I don’t know what to say.
Twenty minutes later, when he’d followed up. That was stupid. What I meant to say was thank you. No one’s ever said anything so nice about me before. That sounds stupid. But I don’t know what else to say. This whole text is stupid. When does this all stop being weird?
I smiled and texted him back. Never, because you’re weird.
His replay was instant. There you are. And I changed my mind. You calling me names is normal. I like it better when you’re saying how awesome I am.
I rolled my eyes and tapped out a response. I hate you.
Is there an apology emoticon?
Ha. Figures you wouldn’t know where to find it.
Ten seconds later, a “sorry” face popped up on my phone.
Did you have to Google that to find it?
Yes. But I still mean it. Just being real, the stuff you wrote humbled me.
Just being real, it was all true.
A long pause followed before he texted back. All of it?
Yeah. I said I’d put the real you out there, and I did. Did it work?
Another long pause. Seems like it, yes. Not sure I’m up for it though.
I wanted to pull my hair out at the words. After everything that has gone down over the last three weeks, you had better be. I don’t want to have turned myself into a head case only to find out that this dating seriously thing was a whim for you.
Can I come down there?
NO. I’m running Will-free this morning. Make that free-Willing this morning. Haha. Get it?
No, because it’s a bad joke, and I can’t encourage stuff like that.
Always Will Page 18