Anatomy of a Single Girl (2 page)

2

T
here’s no doubt that I won the parents lottery in all the really important respects. And as much as I love college, I still get homesick for our family fishing boat trips, which we’ve taken almost every Sunday for as long as I can remember. Nonetheless, when I find my parents waiting for me at the Fort Myers airport baggage claim that evening, donning matching
TULANE MOM
and
TULANE DAD
T-shirts and baseball caps, I want to run in the opposite direction.

“So sue us if we’re proud,” Dad responds to my grimace. “It’s not every day our only child finishes her first year
plus
extra summer courses at a world-class university.”

“Welcome back, future Dr. Baylor!” Mom proclaims
during our group hug. “Goodness me, you’ve really slimmed down since spring break!” Then she taps my hips with both hands and fixes her eyes right on my backside as if this isn’t one of the most embarrassing things she could do to me in public. “Yes, Dommie, you’re just like your old self again!”

“ ‘
Old
self’?” Dad parrots. “Dom looks
better than ever
!”

I didn’t expect to get school-sick this soon. I know they mean well, though, so I just grin and bear it until we arrive home to our apartment and Amy drives over. After my parents fuss over her as well for finishing her first year at Amherst College and making the track team, Amy and I take sanctuary in my bedroom, where I bring her up to date.

“So let me get this straight,” she says while helping me unpack. “You’re not in love with Calvin, but you
wish
you were in love with Calvin?”

“All I mean is that it’d be really convenient if I were, because we’d be a perfect couple!”

“Dom, there’s no such thing,” Amy gripes as I hand her old binders to shelve in my desk hutch. “After the first few months and the honeymoon period fizzles out, even good relationships become dull and routine.”

“Whatever. That’s just another way of saying ‘stable’ and ‘committed,’ which is the whole point of being in a good relationship to begin with.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Amy slumps her shoulders and sighs. “But it’s really no coincidence that ‘monogamy’ sounds just like ‘monotony.’ ”

In the neuroscience course I just took, my textbook said that sex drive is regulated in an area of the brain’s hypothalamus that’s about the size of a cherry. But with Amy
Braff, who’s always been able to—and did—hook up with any boy her hormones desired, it’s probably closer to the size of a grapefruit. So no one was more shocked than Amy when she fell hard for fellow fine arts major Joel Wagner during Amherst’s freshman orientation and started dating him exclusively. Considering he’s the only boy Amy’s ever cared for enough to go all the way with, she assumed they could handle a summer apart while he teaches ceramics at his old camp in Kansas and she interns at the Rauschenberg Gallery here in Florida. Summer’s barely half over, though, and Amy’s back to her old ways of lusting after every cute guy who enters her field of vision.

“There’s ‘water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink,’ ” she sings mournfully while we nest my emptied suitcases inside each other.

“It’s just a hunch, Ames, but I don’t think Joel would feel too happy to know you’re talking like this.”

“Joel should feel
honored
.” Amy squeezes the gold heart locket necklace that he bought her fall semester. “That I’m willing to endure this torment for him
proves
our love is real.”

I sigh and smile at her classic Amy twisted logic. “Well, whatever works.”

“Anyway, I’m still allowed to look but not touch, like at an art gallery show. And on the subject of boy-watching”—she pulls off her hair band and shakes out her ebony locks—“we’re late for our next engagement!”

After I hug my parents goodbye and remind them I’ll be sleeping over at the Braffs’, Amy drives us to a kegger at a Cape Coral loft that some of the other Rauschenberg interns are subletting together. This is my first Saturday night
all summer of not studying, so it’s great just kicking back and meeting everyone Amy’s been talking about for the last two months. I’m not sad once the party ends, though, because it means I get Amy to myself again. We haven’t seen each other since February, when she visited me at school for Mardi Gras.

“Sorry,” Amy says after we get back into her Camry, this time with me in the driver’s seat. “I shouldn’t have asked you to be the DD.”

“Hey, I’m used to it, and I still had fun,” I assure her while pulling out onto the street.

“But then you could’ve let loose more. I just couldn’t resist those Jell-O shots!”

“Well, no judgment, Ames, but Jell-O shots were the least of what you couldn’t ‘resist’ back there.” I raise an eyebrow at her, and Amy scrunches her forehead, genuinely confused, before catching on.

“I was just giving Zack a back rub! Everyone does that for each other at work. You get sore lugging around canvases all day.”

“Okay, but how about that Stefan guy?”

“What? We were dancing!”

“Yeah, but you were all smushed up against him. Have you forgotten your whole ‘look but don’t touch’ rule?”

“Stop! You’re killing my buzz!” Amy clamps her hands over her ears. Then she decrees, “Fine. The rule’s amended: I can ‘touch but not tongue.’ ”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” I say through my laughter.

Back during Mardi Gras while Amy was staying with
me, my hall-mates couldn’t figure out how she and I ever became close, since we have virtually nothing in common besides being five foot six. The truth is, it all stems from having alphabetical seating in our tiny sixth-grade class. Our
B
last names guaranteed that we would always be adjacent and get coupled up for projects, so it was only a matter of time before we bonded. I also appreciated how she never teased me about my mother working as a math teacher at our school. That may have been a return favor for my never making cracks about
her
mother being a well-known psychotherapist specializing in sex issues. I worried about what would happen in ninth grade, when Amy fled to a big public school and I stayed behind in private, but we continued to think of each other as the sister we’d never had. That was why I didn’t worry at all in twelfth grade when we weren’t interested in any of the same colleges.

“Now, enough about
moi
,” Amy croons. “Whom among the male selection back there could
you
see breaking your self-imposed celibacy with?”

I shrug apathetically.

“C’mon, Dom. I was banking on vicariously getting with at least one boy through you this summer.”

“So
that’s
why you asked me to come tonight,” I say with another eyebrow raise.

“Seriously, you can’t imagine wanting
any
of those guys?”

“I didn’t feel a spark. Not that it matters, since none of them seemed to, either. At least Cal was into me from the beginning.”

“Oh, him again.” Amy stretches out in the passenger seat. “Your friend with
out
benefits.”

“Very funny.”

Suddenly my phone beeps in my purse, and Amy checks it for me.

“Speak of the devil …” She clears her throat before reciting Calvin’s text in a mock-excited voice. “ ‘Hi, Coppertone! Hope all is well in sunny FL. Just wanted to say goodnight.’ Aw, that’s really nice!”

“Can you write back for me ‘Sweet dreams’?”

Amy smirks naughtily. “Sure … but can I leave out the first
s
and an
e
?”

“Huh?” I picture it in my mind:
Wet dreams
. “Ames, don’t you dare! The only reason my friendship with him works is because I
never
lead him on!”

“Okay. Calm down. Don’t have a conniption!”

After texting my reply, Amy scrolls through my photos of Audubon Aquarium, where Calvin took me as a surprise yesterday to celebrate the end of my exams. Then, as I’m pulling into the Braffs’ driveway, she drops the phone back into my purse and says, “My, my. The Cal-man really looks stuck on you. Poor guy.”

“Well, we still might get together at some point.”

“Dom.” Amy scowls. “You. Don’t. Like. Him. That. Way. End. Of. Story.”

“But maybe I
would’ve
liked him that way if I’d met him, like, tonight instead of back in October. Let’s face it. I wasted freshman year clinging to
you know who
, and then reeling from the damage when we went up in smoke, so I was
not
in a receptive head space. Maybe Cal was just a victim of bad timing.”

“You sound like my mom.”

“And Cal and I now have a strong foundation to develop something more serious.”

“I’m sorry—did you say you wanted a boyfriend or a building?”

“Go ahead, make fun. But I’m treating this vacation as a kind of experiment. If I end up missing Cal a lot, that could mean there
is
relationship potential between us and I just haven’t been ready to see him as more than a friend. I know it’s a long shot, but I want to be open to the possibility.”

“Uh-huh. Well, if the possibility becomes an actuality, will you greet him with a smooch when he picks you up at the airport? Aah! I’d
so
pay admission to see his face!”

“Please. The boy just dropped me off, and you’re talking about the end of August, so I think we’re jumping the gun.” I chuck her the car keys and grab my overnight bag before we trot up the front path to her house. “And whatever happens, I’m glad Cal and I have a break from each other. That whole situation was getting stressful.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Amy cheers, swinging open the front door and ushering me inside. “Now that you’re back, prepare to
de
-stress, starting now!”

During those next few hours, Amy and I practically regress to the tweens we once were as we reenact our first sleepover nearly eight years ago—singing along to
Grease
, playing Marco Polo in her pool, moon-bathing in her yard, giving each other manicures, and chattering until the Sunday dawn. Unfortunately, I wake up too late to join my parents for fishing, but it was worth it just finally getting to hang out with my best friend again without phones or computer
screens between us. That’s another reason why I decided not to remain in New Orleans all summer—so Amy and I could rack up more quality girl-time before another long school year of being seven states apart. It never occurs to me that her boyfriend could get in the way.

3

T
hursday morning I’m chaining my bike behind Lee County Medical, where I’ve started a volunteer internship for the summer, when Amy calls to break the news: Joel said during their video chat date last night that he found her a discount airfare for a round-trip flight from Fort Myers to Wichita.

“It’s some special Independence Day weekend rate,” she explains. “There’s a red-eye leaving here tonight, and the return flight is Sunday afternoon.”

I feel like my cell phone just stung me in the ear. “Isn’t Joel going to be busy at camp?”

“Yeah, but he has breaks throughout the day, and lights-out is from ten to six.”

“You said he lives in a bunk with other counselors, though. So how could you two even … 
you know
?”

“We can pitch a tent in the woods and light a fire. Joel says that’s what the other couples do.”

“But your parents’ barbecue is tomorrow.”

“So? It’ll be boring, as usual.”

“Oh.” I take a seat on the curb and pout.

I want to point out how Amy will be seeing Joel just next month when he flies in for her stepbrother, Matt’s, wedding. And we already made plans this weekend for more retro girlie “play dates” like Glamour Shots at Edison Mall, home facials, and of course another sleepover. But then I recall last summer when I was in Amy’s shoes and how she never complained about being only my second-choice person to spend time with. That’s just the reality of having a best friend who’s also someone’s girlfriend—you have to share.

I force myself to sound supportive. “This is beyond romantic, Ames! He’s clearly really pining for you, and you’ve clearly been really, um—”

“Horny?”

“
Actually
, I was about to say ‘restless,’ but sure.” We both laugh. “So I guess we’ll just see each other when you get back on Sunday.”

“You didn’t think I was gonna up and desert you, did you? You should totally come away with me, too! My mom’s letting me use her credit card, which has plenty of points to cover our airfare.”

“Oh … well, that’s awesome of you and your mom and everything, but what would
I
do at your boyfriend’s camp?”

“Hike on their trails, swim in their lake, and Joel said we can use the dining hall. It’ll be a blast just chilling out!”

“I don’t know, Ames. This is really last-minute. Plus I have two bratsitting gigs later today, so I’d be rushing to pack.”

“
Please?
If you come, I can hang with you
and
my man. And it’s high time you two met.”

“What about sleeping arrangements?”

“Joel will get an extra cot for you in the girl counselors’ bunkhouse. Unless, of course, you hit it off with one of the guy counselors and you camp out there yourselves,” she says coyly.

“Yeah, ’cause
that’s
likely.” I get back on my feet and make for the hospital employee entrance. “Listen, the logistics sound too complicated, and I don’t want to be a third wheel anyway. Forget about me, and I’ll just meet Joel at Matt’s wedding.”

After a beat, Amy mutters, “I feel horrible flaking out on you, Dom. Say the word, and I’ll nix the whole trip.”

I smile because I know she means it, but I also know I shouldn’t stand in her way, so I promise her that everything’s cool. Then later, when my supervisor begs me to come in for the overnight shift tomorrow since the holiday is leaving them short-staffed, it seems that everything has worked out for the best.

As far as the Braffs’ barbecue, I opt to go for three reasons: One, Dr. Braff calls to reassure me that I’m always welcome there with or without her daughter. Two, there’s nothing happening at my place since Dad, the local chief of police, is needed at headquarters because the Fourth is a high crime night, and Mom will be there, too, helping the desk sergeants manage the increased call volume. And three, I assumed Amy was exaggerating when she warned
me about Matt’s fiancée, Brie, becoming the most irritating person on the planet.