Short Stories: Part III

The plane landed in New York without a problem.  And as every other time the plane lands after not crashing, I was thoroughly embarrassed by my behavior.  

The next weekend was Fourth of July and M and Evan took their first trip as a couple to meet me at my parents' house in the Hamptons.  My extended family was out too.  

M and Evan and I sat by the pool, played with my dog.  I offered them drinks, M said, "Don't worry about us, we're low maintenance."  Something about the "we" in there struck me.  I'm not sure how it struck me.  So I shrugged it off.   

I took M and Evan to my father's restaurant.  While Evan was eating, M asked him what he thought of his food and Evan looked at me and said with a laugh, "marry me."  I laughed.  Nervously, and way too loud.  It was uncomfortable.  The work week had gone by with me pushing scenes from airplane out of my memory.  My tactic was going to be to pretend that that split second of almost-something never happened.  Besides, it was almost something, which is practically nothing in most cases, especially where boys are concerned.  They are so rarely keen to subtleties.   

A little bit later my boyfriend arrived at my parents' house.  My whole family knew him so once he got there, the backyard lit up with conversation.  And at the same time, I noticed that Evan closed up.  I don't think he spoke for the rest of the day.  This made me so anxious.

After dinner we piled into the car and ventured to find a good spot to watch fireworks.  Evan was still not speaking or smiling.  Though in one of our many re-hashing conversations, my mother claimed Evan was very nice to her and that he asked her many questions- about her garden and about our dog.  I must have missed all that.

While the fireworks were going, I caught M's eye.  I mouthed, "what's wrong?" and gestured in Evan's direction.  M shook her head smiling sweetly, "nothing," and rubbed his back with one arm and said, "He's just tired.  Long day."  She made a sad face, sticking out her lower lip.  She was being so nurturing and he didn't even turn to her.  Completely unresponsive.       

That night we all sat down to watch a movie- of my mother's choosing of course.  "Across the Universe," my mother's first choice always.  It was a little late and so not long into the movie, my boyfriend announced he was heading to bed.  The colors and the dancing and The Beatles music of that movie always get me worked up, so I was far from sleepy.  Then a bit later, M announced she was too.  Right before she headed for the basement she turned to Evan and said, "I'm going to head down..."  

"I'm going to stay and watch the rest," Evan said.  I could see my mother's eyes widen in response.  I knew what she was thinking.  She was thinking it was strange that Evan was not going to bed with his girlfriend.  She was thinking, like every mother thinks when it comes to the apple of her eye:  that boy likes my daughter.

So we sat there on the couch-- me and Evan.  A decorative pillow's width between us.  When the movie was over, my parents' living room filled with a heavy warmth that only two hours of All You Need is Love will do.  We exhaled audibly.  I asked him what he thought.  He looked at me, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the TV-- "I loved it."

Now.  We're not talking about a sappy, romantic comedy kind of guy.  We're not talking about John Cusack.  I'd cast A-Rod to play him in the made-for-TV movie about his life.  Not that it'd be a great movie, but you know- he's not the type to love a movie musical love story.  That's all...    

The next morning I got up before everyone else and my mom was already at it in the kitchen.  Without turning away from her dishes she asked me what I thought of Evan and M.  I said, "I dunno.  Evan's not talking. It's weird I think."  

"Well, I'll tell you what I think.  He does not like that girl," she said with her classic, all-knowing mom tone.  I was speechless.  "And it's very sad," she continued, "because they're both very nice people."  I said,

"Do you really think that's why he won't talk?"  

"No," she replied, still matter-of-fact.  "I think he likes you.  And he's trapped.  He's here with his girlfriend and you're boyfriend and I'm sorry but he does not like that girl."  

"Oh my gosh mom shut up."  And I went back to bed.

My boyfriend, Evan, M and I got ready later that day to go to dinner at a great restaurant on the water.  Dinner was painfully awkward for me.  With Evan not speaking and M chatting carelessly.  I spent the whole time wondering if she felt something wrong, if she was going to be OK.  Dinner came and went and when the bill came, my boyfriend threw in his credit card.  I went fishing for my wallet in my bag and my boyfriend stopped me- "I've got you silly," he said.  Then Evan threw down his credit card and M pulled hers out of her pocket and put it down on the table.  Evan did not stop her.  

For me, if I was ex-girlfriend, this would be the one culminating moment where it all became clear.  The last red flag.  I don't know if M saw it that way though.  I thought him blatantly not paying for her was a huge deal.  It was so symbolic.

Evan and M left that night and I got texts from M, from the road:  "he's not speaking to me" and "i can't make him speak. I keep asking him questions."

Writing about that weekend is hard.  Because I hate cringing.  And that's what I do when I think about last Fourth of July.    

I went back to work the following week and somehow everything was back to normal.

I was to start a new job on Friday and so I was getting ready for that.  The new job was still in the building so it wasn't a huge change, but I'd no longer be sitting across from Evan.  Instead I'd be sitting closer to M.  

The night before my first day I was ironing clothes when I saw an email pop up on my computer.  It was from Evan.  I could tell from first glance that the neat paragraph structure implied that he meant business.  Before diving into it I assumed he was going to tell me that he had to break up with M and didn't know how to do it.  But the email was more unfortunate than that.  It was a love note.  A love email.  A love email from my friend's boyfriend.