now.”
“I’m supposed to believe you? Why? I moved in, canceled my lease, talked cabinets with you, Nick. A future.” Albeit, not one with marriage, more a joining of appliances and furniture. It had been a huge step for me, one that I had contemplated and fretted over for weeks, but Nick had cajoled and tempted, and finally, I’d relented. “And what did you do, Nick?”
He didn’t have to answer. We both knew how that had ended. He’d done the Man Dance, panicking within a month, and we’d broken up. I’d found my own place, and maintained my space ever since.
Then, six months ago, he’d started the same talk. Only this time, with a more serious edge, the permanent, gold-bands-and-marriage-licenses type. Now, I was the one who was as skittish as a horse in the starting gate. What if the same thing happened? What if it was worse this time?
“I’m ready for more now, Hilary. I have been for a long time. You know that,” Nick said. “Everyone grows up eventually and I’d like us to.”
“I’m happy with the way things are. Why can’t you be?”
He sighed. “Because I can’t keep doing this. I need to know where we’re heading.”
“I’m heading west, young man.”
But Nick didn’t laugh. I took a bigger gulp of the Seabreeze Delight. Silly thing didn’t leave me any more delighted. It was too sweet, too fruity, and oddly made me wish for some wheat toast to temper the taste.
“I have to go, Hil. I’m going out tonight.”
A wild, crazy surge of jealousy rose in my throat. Three hundred questions crowded my mind at once, like voices in an insane asylum—who with? Where to? Why now? What time are you coming back? What will you do?
And who will you do it with?
Never before had I cared or asked Nick about what he did when he wasn’t with me. I figured I had no right to make demands on him if I wanted no reins on me. It had to be the distance, the emotional tornado stirred up by my mother. Or the aggravation of dealing with THAT PIG all day because I found myself asking words that I knew I shouldn’t. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. Just out with some friends.” Then, I could hear him smile. See that smile across the phone line, and it made me want to take back the question, to close that gap in my armor, a gap I knew he’d seen. “Why? Are you worried about me?”
I took a sip of wine cooler, making him wait before I answered. Pretending I didn’t care; hadn’t been bothered one iota by what he’d said. “Nope, not at all. Just making conversation.”
“You’re a bad liar, Hilary. You should be able to trust me by now anyway. And, you love me. One of these days you’ll realize that. Hopefully sooner rather than later. I’m running out of patience.”
Then he was gone. I hung on to the cell phone, the cold metal against my ear for a long, long time, until David Letterman ended and the Seabreeze Delight finally stopped delighting and let me sleep.
I woke up the next morning and vowed to do better, like a seventh-grader with a failing math grade. Only this wasn’t pre-algebra, and this wasn’t about just mastering the solution to x.
It was my mother. And she didn’t grade on a bell curve.
The clock on the bedside table rolled from seven fifty-nine to eight. The phone hadn’t rung. No one had knocked on my door, bearing an egg-white omelet or some other equally healthy way to start my day. I showered, pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a non-holey T-shirt, slipped into my flip-flops after rinsing off the remaining sand in the sink, then headed out of my room and over to the one next door. “Ma?” I called, rapping on the wood.
“Coming,” she called back, the tone in her voice too high, like a rookie opera singer reaching for a note she couldn’t carry.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” Another falsetto note, this one even shakier. A sense of foreboding whispered through me.
“Let me in.” I tried the knob, a futile exercise.
“I’m not
“I’m supposed to believe you? Why? I moved in, canceled my lease, talked cabinets with you, Nick. A future.” Albeit, not one with marriage, more a joining of appliances and furniture. It had been a huge step for me, one that I had contemplated and fretted over for weeks, but Nick had cajoled and tempted, and finally, I’d relented. “And what did you do, Nick?”
He didn’t have to answer. We both knew how that had ended. He’d done the Man Dance, panicking within a month, and we’d broken up. I’d found my own place, and maintained my space ever since.
Then, six months ago, he’d started the same talk. Only this time, with a more serious edge, the permanent, gold-bands-and-marriage-licenses type. Now, I was the one who was as skittish as a horse in the starting gate. What if the same thing happened? What if it was worse this time?
“I’m ready for more now, Hilary. I have been for a long time. You know that,” Nick said. “Everyone grows up eventually and I’d like us to.”
“I’m happy with the way things are. Why can’t you be?”
He sighed. “Because I can’t keep doing this. I need to know where we’re heading.”
“I’m heading west, young man.”
But Nick didn’t laugh. I took a bigger gulp of the Seabreeze Delight. Silly thing didn’t leave me any more delighted. It was too sweet, too fruity, and oddly made me wish for some wheat toast to temper the taste.
“I have to go, Hil. I’m going out tonight.”
A wild, crazy surge of jealousy rose in my throat. Three hundred questions crowded my mind at once, like voices in an insane asylum—who with? Where to? Why now? What time are you coming back? What will you do?
And who will you do it with?
Never before had I cared or asked Nick about what he did when he wasn’t with me. I figured I had no right to make demands on him if I wanted no reins on me. It had to be the distance, the emotional tornado stirred up by my mother. Or the aggravation of dealing with THAT PIG all day because I found myself asking words that I knew I shouldn’t. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. Just out with some friends.” Then, I could hear him smile. See that smile across the phone line, and it made me want to take back the question, to close that gap in my armor, a gap I knew he’d seen. “Why? Are you worried about me?”
I took a sip of wine cooler, making him wait before I answered. Pretending I didn’t care; hadn’t been bothered one iota by what he’d said. “Nope, not at all. Just making conversation.”
“You’re a bad liar, Hilary. You should be able to trust me by now anyway. And, you love me. One of these days you’ll realize that. Hopefully sooner rather than later. I’m running out of patience.”
Then he was gone. I hung on to the cell phone, the cold metal against my ear for a long, long time, until David Letterman ended and the Seabreeze Delight finally stopped delighting and let me sleep.
I woke up the next morning and vowed to do better, like a seventh-grader with a failing math grade. Only this wasn’t pre-algebra, and this wasn’t about just mastering the solution to x.
It was my mother. And she didn’t grade on a bell curve.
The clock on the bedside table rolled from seven fifty-nine to eight. The phone hadn’t rung. No one had knocked on my door, bearing an egg-white omelet or some other equally healthy way to start my day. I showered, pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a non-holey T-shirt, slipped into my flip-flops after rinsing off the remaining sand in the sink, then headed out of my room and over to the one next door. “Ma?” I called, rapping on the wood.
“Coming,” she called back, the tone in her voice too high, like a rookie opera singer reaching for a note she couldn’t carry.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” Another falsetto note, this one even shakier. A sense of foreboding whispered through me.
“Let me in.” I tried the knob, a futile exercise.
“I’m not
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