My Dream Man (3 page)

Tabby took me up on my offer to come over on Sunday, and I spent the afternoon chopping veggies for soup while listening to her stream of thoughts about Jack. I set aside the judgmental attitude toward Jackasss—Jack—and listened with patience and compassion this time. I knew how hard it was to find your way as a teenager, and that it helped just having someone listen—really listen.

I turned to her after putting the lid on the pot. “Okay, I may be jumping the gun here, but what kind of guy would you like to date?” I asked. “It sounds like that’s what you need to think about.”

Instead of getting annoyed, she seemed to consider the question. She was silent for a few minutes, then said, “Well I’d like him to be hot. I mean, let’s face it. Jack had that going for him.”

I grimaced. Thankfully, she didn’t notice.

“And I’d like him to have ambition and a career. Stuff like that. Jack’s plan is to become a famous DJ and travel the world spinning music. He claims you can make a lot of money doing that.”

The only thing I’d ever seen Jack do was sit around playing video games. He didn’t strike me as a future superstar. “I’m sure there are a handful of people who make a living doing that, but my guess is they’re very driven and competitive and are out doing clubs and parties, making a name for themselves.”

Tabby frowned. “But you have to have goals, right? I mean, isn’t that how you make dreams happen?”

“Yeah, that’s true. Maybe he’ll become a famous DJ someday. But enough about him. This is all about you.” I walked to the closet and pulled out the portable home pedicure unit and went to fetch some water to fill it. I plugged it in and Tabby stuck her feet in while it heated up.

“So…what if Jack
does
grow up and gets his shit together? And I let him go?”

“There will be someone better. And let’s not forget how he kept trying to pressure you to have sex.”

“Oh yeah. I almost forgot about that. See. I’m over-thinking.”

I smiled at her. “That’s what I’m here for, to help you organize your thoughts.” In that moment, my mind wandered to all the lists I’d made the previous week. And all the lists I’d forgotten to make. Maybe I needed someone to help organize my thoughts.

I pulled one of Tabby’s feet out and dried it, then began to file her nails.

“I don’t even know what I want to be when I grow up,” she admitted. “Yet here I am judging Jack.”

“But you’re going to college. And it’s okay if you don’t know what you want to be yet. No one knows what they want to be until they’ve taken a few classes,” I said.

“Becky Simmons knows. She’s going to be a lawyer like her father. She even knows what law school she’s going to attend.”

“Well, good for Becky Simmons. But trust me, she’s the exception, not the rule.” I reached for the basket of nail polish and set it on the chair. “Pick a color.”

Tabby handed me a bright pink. I carefully painted each toe, making sure the color was even, and as I did there was silence. We had that kind of relationship, where we didn’t need to fill every moment with sound. We could just be. And unlike sisters who fought all the time, we got along well.

“What about you Sam? You haven’t dated anyone since Brian.”

I finished the last stroke of clear polish on her pinky toe and looked up. “It’s funny you should mention that, because there’s a guy I’m interested in. I just met him though. He’s the son of one of my patients.”

Tabby’s mood perked up. “Did he ask you out?”

“No,” I said. “I only recently found out his name. That’s how little I know about him.”

“Then how do you know you’re interested? His looks?”

I smiled. There were things I’d share with my girlfriends, but not with my little sister. “I can’t explain it. I just feel something around him. He makes me nervous, in a good way.”

Tabby smiled. “Well I hope he asks you out soon.”

After her toes dried we ate minestrone soup and chatted some more, this time about my experience in college. She asked good questions. I knew then she’d be a great college student. We both started yawning around ten and she said she wanted to go home.

On the way out I said, “Everything’s going to be fine.” Then I gave her a big hug.

I fought off my yawns long enough to Google my “dream man,” now that I knew his name. To my surprise, the search turned up a bunch of links.

I clicked on the first one, an article for
Science Daily
. Then I scanned until I saw his name. Greg Varo, engineer/inventor/nanontechnologist. He wasn’t just intelligent, he was rocket science smart. And apparently knew how to please me in bed without even being present.

I bit my lower lip and continued reading. Some of the details were over my head, but I pieced together that he was part of a development team that worked on creating computers small enough that they could be embedded in the human blood stream. A new way to optimize health, it said.

He wants to save lives. To help people.

We had something in common.

For the next hour I clicked links and scanned all the articles for his name, reading everything that what was written about him. He had been quoted in a variety of seemingly important publications on the topic of nanotechnology. And several times he mentioned the book I’d seen on his desk,
The Singularity is Near
.

My mind drifted to how nice he looked at the grocery store. I recalled his scent on the robe and my heart began to race. I had to have him. I couldn’t quite explain the why of it, but the desire of it was abundantly clear. But how do you get a nerdy guy to ask you out?

I laughed. Probably just by being a girl, I said to myself. Wasn’t that the standard cliché? Nerdy guys were always uncomfortable around women.

I tapped my fingers on the desk, pondering my options. Then it hit me. I went to Amazon and looked up the book. Maybe dazzling him with my understanding of his work would do the trick. Nerdy guys speak a different language. I would learn that language.

When I saw the page count I frowned. There was no way I’d be able to get through a book like that in one evening. Not a chance. But a little further down the page there were other books that were similar, and then I stumbled on a documentary about the book’s author, Ray Kurzweil, which was only an hour and a half long. Videos were much more my style.

After watching
Transcendent Man
I felt more informed. It told the story of the human-machine civilization. A destiny called the Singularity. It claimed technology would accelerate exponentially, computers will have consciousness in twenty-five years, and we will be able to back up our brains and stop aging and regenerate our cells. That we’d become human/machine hybrids.

It was actually pretty cool.

Bill Gates had even gone on record stating Ray Kurzweil was the best person at predicting the future. That alone was impressive.

I shut down my computer and got ready for bed. As I burrowed into my super-soft blankets, I found myself tripping over philosophical questions I wasn’t really in the mood to tackle. What I was in the mood for, was to re-live the night of the supermoon, so I decided to try and take the matter into my own hands. I’d never been successful before, but I thought maybe now that it had happened once, it could happen again. I sure was ready after spending the entire night reading about Greg.

I slipped out of my pajamas and closed my eyes. Then I began caressing my breasts, pretending it was him. I fantasized he was in bed with me, wearing nothing but the pink robe, leaning in to kiss my parting lips.

Then my eyes popped open. Why did I think of him in the pink robe? What did that mean? Was I some sort of freak? Shouldn’t I be dreaming of him naked?

The aroused, less logical part of my mind said, “Shut up. It’s working. Don’t ask why.” I quit trying to analyze myself, closed my eyes, and resumed the fantasy.

As I visualized Greg kissing my neck and breasts, I reached into my panties and began touching myself. I was already wet and just needed to focus on the dream. I began breathing heavier as I remembered him calling me kitten, as he turned me into a mountain lion ready to pounce. I started feeling a faint sensation like it was going to happen. But as I wondered if this was it, I ruined the moment. I tried a little while longer, but still had no luck. Then I punched my pillow and whined in frustration.

Today would be my third visit to Mr. Varo’s house. And though I usually worked eight-hour days, I scheduled fewer appointments and made it my last stop so I could swing home and freshen up first.

I brushed my teeth, fluffed my hair, and re-applied lip shimmer. Then I stood in front of the mirror and practiced a few intellectual conversation starters. I didn’t sound half bad. I just had to remember not to act like I knew what Greg did for a living since he hadn’t told me.

When I pulled into the driveway my stomach did back flips. Just the anticipation of seeing him made me feel lightheaded. I’d never felt this way for anyone before.

I rang the doorbell and Mr. Varo answered with a smile as bright as the sun. “Come on in Sam.” I hid my disappointment that Greg hadn’t answered the door behind a smile of my own.

I took off my shoes and left them in the foyer. As we made our way toward the kitchen where we usually sat, I noticed a round silver disc spinning on the floor. It looked like a flying saucer.

“Greg!” Mr. Varo yelled. “Would you turn this damn robot vacuum off while we have visitors? One of us is liable to trip over the thing.” Mr. Varo turned to me. “The first Roomba worked fine. Then he went out and bought the latest model and took it all apart and turned it into some kind of super-Roomba. Hell, it’s only a matter of time before he programs it to bring him coffee.”

He smirked. And I couldn’t help but giggle too. Greg came jogging in, wearing a pair of workout shorts and no shirt. His skin glistened with sweat. “Sorry about that,” he said, a little out of breath. He leaned down and turned it off. “I was on the treadmill and forgot you were coming.”

Time stood still as my mind snapped a rapid succession of images. I stood there with my mouth agape, unable to control my facial muscles. He wasn’t buff like Brian, but he was far sexier.

“It’s obvious by your expression you’ve never seen one of these,” Greg said, holding the disc up in the air. He smiled at me. “I assure you, we’re not being invaded by aliens. It’s completely safe.”

“I…I…didn’t think that. I just, I just didn’t know what it was,” I stammered. I was losing it right in front of him. I wished I could push a button and simply disappear.

“It’s a robot,” he said.

I knew it was a robot. I’d just heard his dad ask him to turn the damn robot vacuum off. “That’s pretty cool,” I finally said. “What will they think of next?”

“More like what will my son think of next?” Mr. Varo chimed in.

“Are you some kind of scientist?” I asked, hoping the question sounded spontaneous. I kept my eyes on his face, fighting the urge to drop them to his naked chest.

“I’m a nanotechnologist,” he answered.

I raised my eyebrows, waited for him to continue.

“He’s the brains of this family,” Mr. Varo cut in, pride evident on his face. “He designs robots, only much smaller than Roombatroid here. He shrinks them.”

Greg grinned and I felt my knees wobble. I couldn’t tell if his smile was at his dad or if he’d figured out I was smitten.

“Roombatroid, huh? Do you name the robots you design, too?”

“I’d need a hell of a lot of names to do that,” Greg laughed. I must have scrunched my face into a question, because he quickly continued. “Nanotechnology is all about building tiny robots – we’re talking microscopic in size – and teaching them to do things like clear arteries, attack cancer cells. It’s not purely a medical science, of course, but that’s my particular specialty.” He laughed again. “The tech I design looks nothing like Robby the Robot.”

I kept my expression blank.

“From
Forbidden Planet
?”

“Of course, Robby the Robot,” I said, unconvincingly.

“Well I better leave you two and get back to my routine. Nice seeing you,” he said to me.

All I could do was nod in return.

So much for making intelligent conversation.

Mr. Varo and I went back to the kitchen and I pulled my computer out of my bag and searched for a pen and paper. The images floating around my mind had scrambled my brain. I couldn’t find a pen anywhere.

“My son’s a good-looking boy,” Mr. Varo stated out of the blue.

I continued rummaging through my bag as he studied me. I tried to act casual, like I wasn’t melting inside. Finally I found a pen. I held it up like a trophy, then blushed at my stupid action. Or maybe at the images that continued to swirl in my head.

“What? You think I just fell off a turnip truck? I can see.”

“Was it that obvious?” I asked, inwardly cringing.

“Not to him. He’s clueless.” He waved his hand dismissively. “For all his brains, he’s a dunce when it comes to things like this. He wouldn’t know a woman liked him unless she hit him over the head with a typed report.”

I laughed. “He doesn’t have a girlfriend?”

“How can he have a girlfriend when all he does is work? If he’s not working, he’s studying or tinkering.” Mr. Varo pointed a thumb at Roombatroid. It was obvious he didn’t approve.

I resumed testing his blood sugar. “Maybe he’s just a passionate person who loves what he does.” There were so few people like that in the world.

“I’m not saying I’m not proud of him. I am. But I’d like to have a grandchild one day. Is that too much to ask?”

“Of course not. It’s only natural that you would.”

Mr. Varo frowned. “You just said the magic word. Natural. My son just doesn’t understand. Whenever I mention the subject he threatens to build me a grandbabybot. That’s how he says it, too, like it’s one word. ‘We can take it to the park in a stroller so you can show it off to all your old chess-playing cronies.’ But the sad truth is he’s more likely to have a bunch of old chess-playing cronies at the park than I am.”

I grinned. “He’s obviously just ribbing you. Trying to get your goat.”

“Well he’s succeeding. I’ll give him that.” He paused, as if in thought, then rubbed his chin. “What are you doing this Friday night Sam?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why? Are you asking me on a date?”

He chuckled. “No. I was just thinking if you’re not doing anything maybe you’d like to come here for dinner. Do you like chicken parmesan?”

I knew what he was up to, and I was incredibly grateful. “I love chicken parmesan.”

“Good. Because I make a great one. And unlike my son, who chops and stores all his ingredients in sealed bowls beforehand, I improvise and make a big mess. I call it cooking with love.”

“I always follow recipes to the letter,” I said. “I wouldn’t know how to make something from scratch without detailed instructions.”

“Sounds just like Greg,” he said. My smile widened.

 I jotted down his weekly test results in the computer and packed up to leave. “Thanks for the invite. I really appreciate it.”

He winked. “No problem kiddo. See you Friday. Is six good?”

“It’s perfect. See you then.”

During the short drive home all I could think about was Greg with his shirt off.

He didn’t look nerdy at all half naked. And though he was thin, he had well-defined muscles. I felt a now-familiar tingle shoot through my body.

Friday couldn’t come soon enough.