The Lonely (3 page)

I
shrug, "Nothing."

"Tell
Shell Shell what happened." She crawls onto my bed with her shoes on. My
nose wrinkles involuntarily. She rolls her eyes and makes sure they don’t touch
the blankets, I'll have to wash three times to get the smell of the store out.
I'll have to wait for the weekend. The machines had waitlists I couldn’t bear.

"I
met a boy."

Her
eyes light up momentarily, "Cute boy?" Her face is panicked for a
second. This is uncharted territory for me, us. She has always been the one
with cute boy on her lips. Neither of us knows what to do about a cute boy and
me.

I
twitch, "Cutest boy."

"Name."

I
sigh, when I say it, "Sebastian."

She
makes a face, "What went wrong? I like that name."

"Nothing.
He asked me for dinner."

She
squeals and does a weird butt-hopping thing on my bed, before I can finish.
"Where is he taking you? Oh my god, a real date. I could cry right now.
You said yes to a boy and…wait…why do you look like that?" her face drops.

I
can't look at her, "Nothing. I just think it's super weird he asked me out
the first time he saw me."

"Oh
my god. Em, you're never going to date and have a boyfriend and start this
normal life you want so badly, if you don’t actually go on a date. Yeah, so
what? He asked you out. He likes what he sees and wants to get to know you and
see if he likes you." She takes my hand, "You don’t have to do
anything. It's just a date. No different than eating at the table back home,
next to a boy. Dude. You got this. Bring the sani and have a meal. We did
restaurants back home. You can do this. Wipe the cutlery down under the
table."

I
gag a bit thinking about it and shake my head, "I just can't okay." I
stand and walk to the showers. I stay in extra long. I try to stay in so it's
too late by the time I finish. But I can't. I go back to our room. She's gone,
but the mirror has lipstick on it.

GO
OR I WILL CUT YOUR HAIR OFF IN YOUR SLEEP!!!!

I
shudder at the writing and pull on a t-shirt and some jeans. I look back at the
red lipstick and rush to it. I'm wiping and cleaning in a frenzy before I
realize it. I step back, horrified that the grease in the lipstick has
permanently marked the mirror.

I
pull my phone out and send a quick message on my phone,
'I need a new
mirror. Can Stuart bring one by later? Like a dressing mirror.'

'Good
evening to you too. How was the first day? Of course he can. What size?'

I
look at the mirror and shake my head as I text, '
I don’t know.'

'…Take
a picture….
' He's awfully saucy and
impatient.

I
hold the phone up and take the picture. It has me in it. I don’t look like me
though. Not the way I see me. The girl in the mirror looks normal. Blonde,
plain, blue eyes that sparkle with fake life inside of them.

I
ignore my thoughts and slip on my Nike sandals and of course my running watch.
I love that it's plastic and washable. I pull my hair into a messy ponytail and
don’t apply a drop of makeup.

I
grab my wallet and leave, feeling weird. I start my chants, "It's just
like eating beside a boy at home." I wash, rinse and repeat this the
entire way down the hall.

I
send the picture when I'm on the stairs. I then send another text. One that I
have been dreading since I agreed,
'I'm going out for dinner.'

'With
who?'

'Boy
from the gym named Sebastian. Chicken Lou's'

My
cell rings. I swallow and answer, "Hi."

He
sighs into the phone, "Hi. So a boy from the gym? Alone?"

He
sounds annoyed and quiet. He's always quiet. I don’t know what to say.
"Yup."

It
always sounds hollow wherever he is and his voice is a whisper almost, "I
don’t like it."

"Okay."
His reaction throws me. "Uhm. See, I already told him yes."

"Did
you tell him where you live or what your cell is?"

I
shake my head, "No. You told me no one could know the number. I almost never
even told Shell, even when you said it was okay."

"Call
her Michelle, please. I don’t like Shell. It sounds infantile. Message me from
the bathroom when you get there." He hangs up. He always does. He never
speaks to me nicely, well he never really speaks to me. That's not what he's
for. I hate that he called me infantile.

"Dick."
I mutter and head for the restaurant.

Sebastian
is standing outside when I walk up. He smiles and I forget about the weird
phone call and the ruined mirror.

He
looks the same as he did running. T-shirt that shows off his defined chest and
arms and those shoulders, gah. His hair is shaggy and fluffy, most likely from
being fresh washed and not styled. He has on baggy jeans and vans. I smile when
I catch a glimpse of his running watch.

"I
didn’t think you were coming." He says. I glance at the time and groan.
I'm half an hour late and he waited.

He
waited. I like that.

I
smile back at him, "I'm sorry."

He
opens the door for me. We walk into the chaos and madness. He walks past me
when we get inside.

It's
packed.

I'm
frozen instantly.

He
wraps his hand around mine and drags me through the crowd. It's an instant
shiver up my arm. Not because his hand is warm and so big, it eats up my whole
hand. Not because his skin, against mine, is making my belly dance. Not because
I am sexually attracted to him like a…I'll stop there.

It's
because his SKIN IS TOUCHING MINE! His bare hand is against mine. I can't
imagine how many times he picked his teeth or scratched. I don’t know him at
all.

I'm
almost gagging. I feel the panic coming. Someone bumps into me, knocking me.
Another person touches my arm, "Sorry." They say. There is nothing
but the sea of voices and chairs being shoved and waitresses shouting.

I
close my eyes in the sea of people. I don’t have any choice. They've surrounded
me.

I
let him pull me along and drag me through the crowd. I start my affirmations
silently.

I
feel grateful for the light and air I'm breathing. I have hand sanitizer in my
bag. I'm grateful for hand sanitizer and the fact I remembered it. Every mess
can be cleaned. I chant it. 'Every mess can be cleaned up.'

He
stops. I walk into his back and his arms wrap around the back of me. Hugging me
to him. My face is squished into his back.

"This
is insanity." He shouts back at me. "Are your eyes closed?"

I
manage to open my trembling lips, "Too m-many p-p-people."

He
hugs me tighter to him, "Oh my god, Emalyn. I'm so sorry. I should have
warned you. This place is nuts every night of the week." He is shouting
loudly. It doesn’t improve anything. He turns back the way we came in and pulls
me out. He doesn’t hold my hand. He keeps me hugged into him, like a two person
conga line.

I'm
a moron. I feel it inside, but I can't stop and be normal. When the fresh air
hits, I rip the sanitizer out of my pocket. I dump the cold gel across my
hands. The smell of the pumpkin-spiced alcohol is therapy.

I
know he's watching me. I can almost feel the crazed look on his face. I can
definitely imagine it.
I finish rubbing but don’t move. My lip is trembling. I'm begging, pleading
with myself not to choke up or freak out completely. I'm not too worried the
tears leaving my eyes, just flooding them. I don’t cry. My tears always find
their way to my eyes, but they never actually make it out. Instead, they make
kaleidoscopes and change everything for me.

He
doesn’t even know me and I've revealed something so horrid. If he knew the
rest, he would leave.

I
am seconds from pulling out the phone and sending the message for the car to
come. I don’t know if my legs can walk back to the dorm. They have the cement
boot feeling. The thick feeling they get. It's coming. It always does.

His
huge hand reaches over and takes the sanitizer like it’s dangerous. He squirts
some on his hands and bathes them in it. He hands it back. But now that he's
touched it I have to do it again. It's insanity but it's my insanity. I bathe
in it a second time and put it away. He takes my hand in his and walks me
silently down the busy road.
"I'm so sorry." He finally speaks, his voice is traumatized.

Don’t
cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. The tears are there in my throat. They are
threatening me. I almost believe they will go to my eyes

"I
should have guessed. You cleaned that treadmill like it was your job." He
laughs. He is smiling. I can hear it in his voice.

I
glance up, "I get it if you want to run away."

He
grins, "What? I have the cleanest date in town now. I've never felt so
safe in all my life." He points with his free hand and I notice we are
still holding hands, "I know a quiet place down the road. Very clean.
Owner has OCD, so the service is slow but the place is immaculate."

"Okay."
The warmth of his hand is nice. It makes the lonely go away. He's the cure. I
sigh. Quietly.

He
pulls me into pace with him. "So is it as bad as Howie Mandel's?"

I
snort, "It's not what you think. I'm not a germaphobe."

He
looks confused, "You are so."

I
shake my head, "I don’t do it because I care about the germs. I was raised
to be clean." I don’t tell him that I've spent my lifetime trying to clean
something up.

He
makes a face, "Oh, those scary cult families where you get scrubbed with
boiling water like Mommy Dearest?"

I
laugh, "Something like that." The similarities are disturbing.

He
shrugs, "My uncle Frank is a surgeon. I get it. He went through a vodka
phase once. He had bottles of it in every bathroom and we had to wash our hands
with it." He steals a glance down at me, "The crowds are hard too.
New Mexico is probably pretty quiet. Boston's not exactly quiet."

"What
kind of surgeon." We need to talk about him.

"Orthopedic."

"Wow."

He
doesn’t sound interested, "Yeah."

"You
taking medicine then? Keeping it in the family?"

He
looks down at me laughing like I'm missing something, "No." His eyes
are filled with a touch of something intense, but it's too far beneath the
surface for me to see it. "I'm in business. What about you?"

"Journalism
is what I want to do. I ran the paper at my high school. We did a lot of earth
sciences pieces. Trying to be proactive about the environment. But I'm a
freshman, so we'll see."

The
Town Car pulls up as we round a corner. Stuart climbs out of the car he parks
illegally, "You said you were going to Chicken Lou's." He looks
pissed. His dark eyes are stormy. Shell is right, he's hot. Especially angry.
Yowza.

I
don’t want to explain the car or the driver to Sebastian. I scowl and shout
across the street like a psycho, "Go home! I thought you were on a
date!"

"Had
to end it early." He's speaking through his teeth.

I
roll my eyes, "The chicken place was too busy. Huge crowd." I pray he
gets it without me having to explain.

Sebastian
looks down at me, "Is that your driver?"

I
laugh. It's nervous and I shake my head, "No. God no. Stuart, this is
Sebastian. Stuart is a friend of my…uhm…family's. He's like a
big…older…annoying brother."

Stuart
looks less than impressed.

Sebastian
smiles uncomfortably, "Hey man. We're gonna eat here. You wanna
come?"

Stuart
ignores him, "This is a bad idea."

"I'll
call him. Now go away." I turn and pull Sebastian to the door. I almost
grab the handle but my hand freezes looking at it. Thankfully, Sebastian grabs
it quickly, "Let me. Is everything okay?"

I
look back at Stuart and nod. "He's really over protective."

"Who
are you going to call?"

"My…uhm…family."
I laugh inside my mind. I've never said the word uhm so many times in my life.

Stuart
doesn't get in the car. He watches. He always watches. It's creepy.

He
isn’t creepy, but his job is.

My
phone vibrates the minute we get inside. I ignore it.

The
restaurant smells great and I can see the sparkle and shine in every corner.
The servers are clean, with their hair pulled back and greased to their heads.
Everything is white linen and immaculate. I almost sigh relief, but then I
notice how everyone else is dressed. We look like slobs. I look down at my
chipped toenail polish and ugly blue sandals and grimace.

He
must have seen the look in my eyes because he leans in and whispers,
"Yeah, I forgot how fancy this place was. You okay here?"