Just Friends (13 page)

She rolls her eyes. “You mean, besides pretend I wasn’t really with him? Nothing. What could I do?”

“You mean, you just sat there while he impersonated a soda commercial?”

“Oh God, I didn’t know what to do. I guess I figured he’d be more like a regular human once the movie started. I thought maybe he was just bored.”

“And was he?” He wants her to say
No
.
No, he grew horns and started pawing the ground as soon as the ads were over
.

“Except for a couple of times when he was the only one laughing, he was okay. I guess he didn’t know the soundtrack music.”

The good-friend smile is practically glued on Josh’s face. “So does that mean you’re going to see him again?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. He wasn’t awful or anything – not like Sailor Boy. But we didn’t really click, you know? We kind of bumped into each other and sat there. Keeping the conversation going was like keeping six balls in the air. You had to concentrate. If you took your eyes off it for half a second it stopped.”

“And hit you in the head?”

She leans against him, laughing. “Anyway Tilda said there was no point in giving him a second chance because I could never take him out with our crowd in case there was music. I mean, can you picture it? Everybody would just crack up.”

Even without Tilda’s guidance, Jena has admitted that she’s a serial dater. The most times she’s ever been out with the same guy since she started dating in middle school was twice. There was always some fatal flaw. Boring. Slurped his soda. Chewed his nails. Told really dumb jokes. Or there was something not right. No clicking, just that dull thud. No sparks. Jena said you can’t start a fire without a spark. Josh didn’t tell her she was wrong.

He raises one eyebrow. “So no goodnight kiss then?”

She laughs. “I didn’t say that, Josh.” Blushing makes her eyes shine more. “I mean, he is really, really good-looking.”

Of course he is. Jena’s dates may all have something wrong with them but it is never that they have a face that is best seen from behind. She said she knows it must make her seem shallow, but she can’t help it that she’s attracted to guys who are handsome. Like some people are attracted to blondes or athletes or Southern accents. “Or short people,” put in Josh. “There are millions of girls who won’t go out with anyone over five foot four.” Jena laughed and punched him in the arm. She thinks it’s great that he doesn’t have a complex.

“Maybe it’s me.” Jena frowns. “Do you think it’s me, Josh? Am I too picky or demanding or something?” The frown deepens. “Maybe it’s because of my dad. You know, because he’s kind of a perfectionist. And I’m always trying not to, you know, disappoint him.”

“Of course you’re not too picky,” he assures her. “A girl has to have standards.” Though he can think of at least one he wishes she’d lower.

“Yeah, but what if I have too many? What if I end up all by myself when I’m, like, forty and past it? Everybody else will have a partner and I’ll be alone microwaving meals for one and talking to my computer. Or to a cat. That’s what old ladies nobody wants do, isn’t it? They get a cat.”

“I think they get, like, at least ten cats,” says Josh. “But that isn’t going to happen to you.”

“You can’t be sure. Things don’t always work out the way you think they will.”

“I am sure,” says Josh. “Because if you’re alone when you’re forty, you can always live with me.” He’s bound to be on his own. “My cooking’s pretty limited to chilli and spaghetti, but it should’ve improved by then.”

“OhmyGod!” Her shriek is worthy of a lottery win. “That’s fantastic! What a genius idea!” She pulls her legs up on the sofa and kneels facing him. “Tilda and I talk about maybe living together some day, but you’d be a way better roommate than her.”

And more useful than a cat. Because of the opposable thumbs.

Jena makes an I’m-about-to-say-something-totally-shocking face. “Not to be mean, ’cause you know I love Tilda, but she is controlling. Kind of like my dad. And she really is such a major slob.”

“Tilda? But she always looks like it takes her at least an hour to get ready for school.”

“It does. Sometimes longer.” Jena squeezes his hand. “Swear you won’t tell anybody what I’m about to tell you.”

Who would he tell? It isn’t like his friends lose sleep over the burning issue of whether or not Tilda Kopel leaves dirty underwear under her bed.

“But even though, you know, personally, she always looks totally perfect, her room pretty much looks like a crime scene. You know like in a movie when someone breaks in and is looking for the memory stick with all the secrets on it and they turn everything upside down?”

Jena’s room, however, always looks as if it’s ready for inspection – which it probably is.

“That’s what happens when you weren’t raised by a military man,” teases Josh. “No discipline or standards.”

“But you weren’t raised by a military man, and you’re super neat,” counters Jena. “Even my dad would be impressed if he saw your room.”

“That’s because I’m anal-retentive.”

“Well, Tilda’s the opposite. She doesn’t retain anything, she throws it everywhere. And she’s useless at anything practical. She drinks instant coffee at home because she can’t work the coffee-maker. I mean, really? A coffee-maker? And also, I bet you never argue, either.” He argues all the time; just not with Jena. “I’ve never ever heard you shout. Tilda shouts even when she’s not mad. But you’re always so laidback and mellow.”

Mellow, but also yellow. He wouldn’t dream of shouting at Jena – she might never speak to him again.

“You wouldn’t make a mess, and you’d clean up, and you’d always be in a good mood…” She gives herself one of the hugs he’d like to give her. “Seriously. I think it’d be perfect if we were roomies, don’t you?”

He nods. Pretty close to perfect. Definitely a very near neighbour.

“And you could do all the guy things, too. Which, believe me, Tilda can’t do.”

He probably can’t do them either.

“The
guy things
? You mean, like punching people and driving too fast?”

She laughs. “No, you… I mean, like putting up shelves and fixing dripping faucets and stuff like that.”

All the things Josh’s mother does. The one time he tried to help fix a leak he nearly drowned them both.

“And I’d never have to worry that we were going to be interested in the same person. And if I wasn’t seeing anybody and I needed a date for a party or something, or wanted someone to watch a movie with, you’d be right there.”

Here is his chance to say something about how he really feels about her. He doesn’t have to wait for the right moment; this is the right moment. All he has to do is tell her that she’s right and her father’s wrong, there is no way Jena and he would ever be interested in the same person, because even though he doesn’t play football he’s very heterosexual and the person he’s interested in is her. He could at least drop a hint. Make a joke about the well-known power of propinquity; draw the Euler diagram; play her that Mike Nesmith song. He could warn her she’d have to be careful because he might prove irresistible once she’s seen him when he’s brushing his teeth.
I use red mouthwash. I look like a vampire, and you know how sexy they are
. Or he could be really bold and say:
But what if we fall in love?

He does none of those things.

“You make it sound so romantic.” He winks roguishly, though she may just think he has something in his eye. “I want to rush out and buy some tools so I can start putting up shelves.”

“And you know what else? You always make me laugh! So whenever I got stressed or bluesed out you’d be there to cheer me up!” Leaning forward slightly, she grabs his hand again. “It really would be so cool, wouldn’t it? Think of how much fun we’d have!”

She is so close he can feel her breath, soft as the beating of a ladybird’s wings. But he’s pretty sure that the heart he hears pounding, heavy as the footsteps of a giant in a fairy tale, is his. This really is the moment he’s been waiting for, dreaming of. All he has to do is gently pull her towards him. All he has to do is shift towards her. Just an inch or two. That’s all he has to do. Neither of them moves. The world pauses, holding its breath; the only thing in the house besides them is silence. They sit face to face, smiling, eyes on eyes and hands entwined. Is she waiting for something? Is he? All he has to do…

But suddenly he hears her telling Tilda Kopel about tonight, just the way she told him about her dud dates.
You think the guy humming in the movie theatre was bad? Oh my God, that was nothing. Josh Shine came on to me last night! Can you believe it? I swear, Tilda, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry…
Though in his mind they are both laughing, of course, the tears streaming down their faces, dragging streaks of eyeliner with them.
Where’s my phone?
gasps Tilda.
I have to tell the others… I have to tweet about it…
She says she wishes Jena had taken a picture. And they collapse into each other’s arms. He tells himself to stop. He’s doing a Hamlet. Jena would never do that to him. She would never betray him to Tilda like that. Now’s his chance. All he has to do is open his mouth and tell her the truth.

The doorbell rings.

The pizza has arrived.

That’s what you get if you don’t act when you have the opportunity: margherita with extra cheese.

“He
did? You’re sure?” asks Carver. “Mrs Shine told Ramona that?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” says Sal. “Josh’s mom said he suddenly ran out of the house the other night with half an explanation.” The half an explanation was that his friend was locked out. “She figured it wasn’t you or me ’cause we would’ve just come over to wait until someone got home to let us in. She called Mo because she thought it must be her. It didn’t occur to her it could be Jena.”

“Christ,” says Carver. “It’s worse than I thought.”

“That’s not all,” says Sal. “He did pretty much the same thing to me last week.” Sal’s father was ill, and Sal and Josh were going to pick up his prescription at the drugstore. After that, they would go back to Josh’s to play their favourite computer game,
Pan-Galactic Blues
, which combines Sal’s desire to be in a sci-fi movie and Josh’s love of tactics. Josh was just about to get in the car when his phone started singing. “Next thing I know I’m driving him to Jena’s because there’s no one else she can turn to. She backed up the toilet and was hysterical and crying that her father was going to have a fit if he saw the mess. Man, you should’ve seen Josh. You’d think he was Superman and she was Lois Lane, the way he raced off.”

“That’s definitely not life as we know it,” says Carver. “Usually Josh causes plumbing problems; he doesn’t solve them.”

“Yeah, but who else would she call?” asks Sal. “Tilda?”

Carver laughs. “Now that’s a sight I would pay to see. Tilda Kopel with her arm down the bowl.”

“I’m having enough trouble picturing Josh,” says Sal.

But when he stops laughing Carver wants to know if Sal thinks they should say something to Josh.

“Say what?” asks Sal.

“That he’s getting a little carried away. That maybe he should cool it a little.”

“What for? He’s enjoying himself. He’s crazy about her. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“If you ask me, the crucial word in that sentence was ‘crazy’.”

“You really are a downer, man,” says Sal. “Why can’t you be happy for him? He’s in love.”

“He’s in something,” says Carver. “But I’m not so sure I’d call it love.”

Josh is helping Carver with the music for the video Carver’s making for his social science project. It’s a montage of images of the damage done to the planet by modern civilization – razed jungles, deserts that once were forests, decapitated mountains, polluted oceans, burning rivers, islands of plastic, devastated cities, dead bodies, both human and non. Carver’s calling it “Collateral Damage”. They’ve just started going through it for the second time when Josh’s phone begins to play “Keep Your Hands Off Her”.

“Don’t get it,” orders Carver. “Not unless it’s Maryam Mirzakhani or Judit Polgár. Anyone else, you’re busy. Or your mom. You can answer if it’s your mom.”

Josh knows who it is, of course, and it isn’t the renowned mathematician, the chess grandmaster or his mother. “It might be something important.”

Carver gives him an in-your-dreams look. He knows who it is, too. “It isn’t. It’s the My Little Pony girl.”

Josh doesn’t ask how Carver knows that because he’s too busy hitting Answer.

Jena sounds as if she’s been running. “I’m really sorry,” she says in a breathless rush, “but my dad’s working late and there’s somebody prowling around outside.”

“It could just be the wind. Or the rain. It’s raining pretty hard.”

“It’s not the weather, Josh.” He can hear her voice charging with panic. “I heard them. I heard footsteps. The rain doesn’t wear shoes. And they even tried the back door. I thought my heart was going to jump out of my mouth.”

“Okay,” says Josh. “You try to calm down. I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Rain smashes against the window. He can always swim.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” Jena gushes. “I knew I could count on you.”

Josh looks up from pocketing his phone to see Carver staring at him with an I-told-you-so face.

“So what’s tonight’s emergency?” asks Carver.

How does he know about Jena’s emergencies?

“This is the age of communication,” says Carver. “Information at your fingertips. Everything you wanted to know about absolutely anything at the click of a mouse.”

“Yeah, and Sal never knows when to keep his mouth shut.”

“He’s not the only one,” says Carver. “Your mom told Ramona all about how you went running over when Jena locked herself out of the house.”

Does he have no privacy? No secrets? So much for avoiding Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. He might as well take out ads.

“My mom told Ramona?” Don’t they have anything else to talk about? Have all the crises on the planet been solved? Has the world been made peaceful, fair and just, and no one told him? If not, surely they’d be better off solving the energy crisis than discussing his business. “Are you sure?”