Complicated Girl (15 page)

“Investing? No, that’s at the other end of the community center. And it’s a terrible group. They don’t even have snacks.”

“Can you be serious for a minute?”

“Probably not.”

“Try.”

I take a deep breath and sit down on the carpet, cross-legged. I put my palms together and calmly say, “Om. Serious.”

Drew slides off the end of my mother’s bed and sits in front of me, also cross-legged.

“You’re flexible,” I comment.

“I really was going there for an investment seminar. As soon as I walked into the room, I knew I was in the wrong place. But there was this cute girl there. So I stayed, even though I didn’t have any emotional or life problems to discuss.”

My neck is itchy. I rub my neck. This conversation is uncomfortable.

“You’re going to be late for work,” I say.

He keeps gazing into my eyes, unwilling to let me go. “The more I spent time with you, the more I realized I did have a problem. I was lonely. And I was afraid of being with a woman, because my last relationship was so exhausting.”

I let out a big breath, blowing the air up my face to make my hair flutter. “If you don’t like exhausting, you’d better stay far away from me.”

“I find you invigorating. You’re a little… complicated, I’ll give you that, but you’re the
good
kind of complicated.”

Scratching my ear while I look away, I mutter, “I like you too, dude.”

“Since you’re helping me with my problem, maybe I can help you with yours.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Whose clothes are these?”

“They’re your clothes now. You can throw them out when you get home. They’re from some guy who was passing through.”

“Some guy passing through?”

I stare at him with bugged-out eyes. “Yeah, Drew. Just some random guy. I couldn’t even tell you his name. Don’t worry, he didn’t hurt me or do anything bad. It’s not like that.”

“If you want to talk, I can stay. I should call the office so they don’t worry about me.”

I nod my head forward, over my knees, and then throw my torso back and roll over my shoulder then spring up to my feet.

“I’m fine.” I stretch my arms out wide. “Get dressed and get going. We’ve got plenty of time to talk.”

“You’re sure?”

I walk over to where Drew’s still sitting cross-legged, and I pull his borrowed white T-shirt off over his head, then grab his hands and help him to his feet.

“You can talk to me,” he says.

“I have plenty of people to talk to. I have a whole group full of them.”

“They seem like decent people.” He holds his arms out and lets me slip the khaki shirt on him. He buttons the shirt.

“You’d think it was custom made for you,” I murmur, admiring him.

He pulls on the pants. “You can have the self-help group back to yourself. I’ll stop going, of course. In case you need to talk to them about relationship stuff and the new guy you’re seeing.” He tucks in the shirt and admires himself in the mirrored door on the main closet. “I hear your new guy is quite the catch, a dentist with a good credit rating, and no arrests for public nudity… yet.”

I wrap my arm around Drew’s lower back and start showing him out of my mothers room, and onward to the front door. “No public nudity. We’ll see what we can do about that.”

He grins. “I’m looking forward to it.”

We get to the front door, and I pick up his shoes to sniff them for signs of trouble from Muffin. They smell fine, but when I tip one over, a furry catnip toy falls out.

“Good news,” I say. “My cat likes you.”

“I’m so relieved.” He puts on the shoes, then kisses me goodbye. “Should I call you tonight?”

“About what?”

He looks mildly exasperated. “To talk? I don’t know. Don’t you girls like to be called?” He opens the door, but stands in the doorway. “What’s up? You can tackle a man to the ground, lick all the jam off his English muffin, and countless other things I can’t say with your door open, but the idea of a phone call makes you uncomfortable?”

I shrug and look around for a distraction. Where is that cat when I need him?

“Let’s just take it one day at a time,” I say sweetly, moving toward him.

“Are you herding me out of your house?”

“No,” I say, even though I clearly am.

He darts back in, getting past me. “Forgot my phone,” he says. He gets it from the table where we ate breakfast, and then makes his way out the front door again, watching me warily. “What’s your number again?”

“I never gave it to you.”

“I know. You called my after-hours line from the home phone. I want your cell number so I can text you my address for Saturday.”

I give him my number, and then program his number into my phone, since it would be rude not to.

Standing in the doorway, he looks down at how close I’m standing. Our stomachs are nearly touching. He says, “You can’t wait to get rid of me.”

“I think you’re projecting. You should probably talk to someone about that. Maybe a self-help group.”

He grins. “You’re so cheeky.” He gives me another kiss, and then he finally steps back out of the doorway and turns to leave.

I watch his GQ-adorable butt as he walks past the spot where we got the grass stains last night.

He stops and points to the lawn in that area. “Looks like some wild animals bedded down here last night. You can see some of the blades of grass are bent.”

“Maybe coyotes.” I wave at him. “Have a good day at work.”

Still grinning, he waves back, and then disappears around the hedge.

I close the door and finally relax, slouching forward with my hands on my knees as I mutter a string of curse words.

I’m in a real pickle now. I certainly don’t want to go to Drew’s dumb house on Saturday and meet his roommate and then his parents who live ten blocks away. I don’t want to date someone who badgers me about how long I left stain remover on grass stains.

I don’t know what I want, or why I want what I want. Or why I don’t want what I don’t want. But I do know I need to take another shower, and throw this stupid BJ shirt out, and get my life together for once.

After Drew leaves, I spend the bulk of Wednesday watching TV and leafing through magazines. I’ve got to break things off with Drew. Our hookup was fun, but I’ll just get hurt eventually, so I can’t be with him.

Muffin seems agitated, and keeps looking at the front door, like he’s expecting Drew to return.

At quarter after six, Rory phones to ask why I’m not at O’Flannagan’s.

I slap my palm to my forehead. I completely forgot that a few hours earlier, I made plans to see her for dinner.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Obviously not. I am so sorry. Hang on, I’ll wipe the chip crumbs off my shirt and be there as fast as I can.”

“Don’t bother.”

I start to sniffle. “Rory, I’m so sorry. You’re my only friend, and I said the D-word when we were doing laundry, even though I knew you’d be upset, and now I’ve stood you up. I’m the worst person.”

“No, I mean don’t bother wiping the chip crumbs off your shirt. I’ll grab some takeout and bring it over there.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Sure,” she says slowly. “Promise you’ll stay away from pointy things and pliers until I get there.”

I sniff again and thank her.

Rory shows up at the house with a bunch of food, including spicy hot wings. I didn’t think I was hungry, but then the sharp vinegar smell of the barbecue sauce hits my nose and my mouth waters.

Rory has her curly dark hair loose around her shoulders, and her eyes are bright and gold tonight. She’s also wearing makeup, which is unusual for her.

“New dress?” I ask.

“Yup.” She opens the takeout containers and places them around the table with a quickness that comes from being a professional caterer.

“New lipstick?”

She smiles. “Yup.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to drag it out of you one syllable at a time?” The smell of the food is making my mouth water so much, my lips are making smacking sounds when I talk.

“I can’t explain it,” she says, her eyes darting around to check that we have utensils and napkins. “But I talked to the guy who owns Sweet Caroline’s.”

“Duncan?”

“Shush.” She blushes and looks around nervously.

“Rory, we’re in the dining room of a private residence. We’re not in the high school cafeteria. Duncan’s not going to hear us talking about him.”

“It’s nothing.” She shakes her head, her dark curls twirling. “I’m buying some furniture. That’s all.”

“He might have a girlfriend. I saw him with a hot girl in a fancy car.”

“That’s his roommate.”

I snort, and then snort again. “Girls like that don’t live with platonic roommates. Do they?”

She loads up her plate with food, ignoring my question.

“Meenie, grab the food while it’s hot. And tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t usually flake out and forget dates that involved food.”

“Not much is new, except that guy Drew has fallen in love with his first impression of me and I’m going to have to cut him loose before he figures out who I am.”

“You don’t like him? It seemed like you did.”

“Sure, I liked him. I liked him a couple of times. On the front lawn, and in my bed, but he’s delusional. Plus he’s using me.”

Rory looks uncomfortable at the mention of sex, but doesn’t run away. “How can you tell if a guy’s using you?”

“It’s pretty easy if he comes out and tells you. This morning, Drew basically told me his life was all bleak like a black and white movie, and then I came in and started rocking his world in technicolor, like a Manic Pixie Dream Girl.” I spoon more blue cheese dressing onto my plate for the hot wings. “These wings are great, by the way. So, where was I? Right. Drew. So, he’s all sad because he was with some ice queen for too long, maybe since high school, then he meets me and starts gobbling me down like I’m Prozac and Boner Pills all rolled up in one. But when the drug high wears off, where does that leave me?”

“Huh?” Rory looks confused, but she’s never even had a boyfriend, so the idea of getting used as a thrill ride is a foreign concept to her. How can I put this in a metaphor she can understand? What kind of food am I?

“Rory, I’m like birthday cake. I’m the corner slice, with all the icing. Drew is the greedy kid at the party. He wants me, and all the icing, but he’s going to get a stomach ache, and tomorrow he’s going to want his plain sandwiches again.”

She’s quiet for a minute, as though mulling it over. Or maybe she’s thinking about cake, like I am.

Finally, she says, “You’re not cake.”

“But I’m not Tina, am I? I’m not the marrying kind. I’ll never get a guy like Luca. Nobody’s going to sell out the flower shop just to take me on a date. I’m the girl they call to help them fix a flat tire.”

“That’s not true. Duncan said some nice things about you.”

“Shut up!” I howl with laughter. “He did not. Either you’re lying, or he is.”

“I’m serious. He said you’re very interesting.”

“He’s trying to get into your panties.”

She winces at my mention of the word panties.

I apologize immediately. “I’m sorry I said that, Rory. You’re a good friend, and you brought over food, and I’m going to work hard to be a better friend right back. I’m so sorry about all the mean stuff I said on Sunday.”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“I’m serious, Rory. I am truly, truly sorry. I’m trying to change.”

She reaches across the table and pats my hand. “I love you exactly how you are. You and Tina are like the sisters I never had. I don’t want you to ever change. I just want you to be happy.”

I choke back emotion. “I love you, too, dude. Let’s just be happy from now on.”

“Okay.”

I put on a smile and think about being happy, but it’s too big and abstract, so I start thinking about baking a cake tomorrow.

After a few minutes of eating, I ask, “What else did you and Duncan talk about? Tell me everything.”

“He likes electronic music.”

“And?”

“Well, mostly we just talked about you, and furniture.”

“I’m so glad my humiliation was a great ice-breaker for you two.”

She gets a big grin that lights up the whole room. “Yeah, you give me so much material.”