Five Dates

1. Margo

CHAPTER 1

Margo

“ T ell me you identify as a psycho without telling me you identify as a psycho.”

She’s not wrong, but if I admit to the whole thing right up front, she’ll have me committed, or worse, she’ll call my mom. Jeannie’s brown eyes narrow further. “Tell me, Margo, don’t be afraid,” she says, tilting her head to one side. A curl drops into her line of vision, but she doesn’t move it.

My face heats, and sweat forms under my clothes. How could I have strayed so far from my who I used to be? Oh, that’s right. Three creamsicles, the drink, not the dessert, followed by countless tequila shots. That’s how. Well, that’s how this time.

I close my eyes and swallow down barf-tinged guilt. “I’m sorry I left you at the bar.”

“Without telling anyone where you were going.”

I nod, repeating her line. “And for not calling you back…seventeen times.”

Jeannie sneers. “How about the most offensive of your sins?”

“Aren’t women supposed to support women? You’re my best friend.”

She covers her lips with one finger, silencing me. “You. Don’t. Remember. His. Name. Do you know how dangerous this world is for us? What you did last night was unconscionable. Inexcusable. Dangerous. Margo, it was unforgivable. If someone dismembered your body last night, do you know who the entire world would blame? Me. Your best friend. Your wingman. The last person who loved you and who was with you when you made your ridiculous choice. People don’t say it out loud, of course, they’re not barbarians, but that’s what everyone thinks. The victim has shit friends.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic? Jesus, Jeannie. I’m standing in front of you, alive and well. I’m sorry. I’ve said I’m sorry a thousand times. I came directly home, not even stopping for coffee on the way.” The thing is, Jeannie is right. This isn’t the first time this week, and I’d be pissed if the tables were turned, but I need to roll away with at least a little pride. “Way to make this about you, though. That always has been a talent.”

Her eyes flicker once—fiery. “Take that back.”

I throw up my hands. “You said it! You just made my hypothetical death about you.”

“Because it’s obvious you’ve lost all self-respect. I’m trying to appeal to the part that cares about your friends. Up until last night’s vanishing act, I thought that part of you was still intact.”

I swallow, and my mouth feels like cotton. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I move into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. Jeannie is nothing if not persistent. I know I’m not leaving until we’ve discussed this thoroughly. “I do care about you.”

She picks up on what I didn’t say. “Do you care at all for your future self? I get it, he broke your heart.” That is an understatement. He shattered it, ground it into dust, then made me snort it. “Self-sabotage isn’t the way to go about this, and I know you don’t see it that way, but good god, quality over quantity. What happens when you meet Mr. Forever in the coffee shop tomorrow? You’ll have to tell him about the season you turned savage.”

“Do I, though? This…phase could be a part of hidden history. Everyone goes through a wild phase. There’s no obligation to tell anyone anything.”

Jeannie hasn’t moved from her spot by the door as she leers in my direction. “Starting anything on lies is always smart.” She makes a disgusted noise. “What will it take for you to just, I don’t know, date like a normal person?”

“What I’m doing sort of is like dating,” I say. The coffee percolates so sluggishly that it feels like slow motion as I wait for her to lay into me. I’m not kidding myself. I know that a real relationship can’t stem from a one-night stand. Which is exactly why I do it. A few nights ago, the guy didn’t even intend to have sex with me, but what warm-bodied male says no when I offer up my naked body? He told me after he was shocked that it went that far, and he hoped we could see each other again. I left his apartment before sunrise and didn’t get his number. Self. Sabotage.

“You’re in a bad place, and you know it. Try something new. Hell, I’ll even help you. Just, anything but what you’re doing right now. It’s not good for you.”

“I’m always safe,” I quip back.

“I mean your mental health, Margo. It’s progressively getting worse. God forbid this starts affecting your career. You’re going to destroy the balance.”

I spin, leaning my elbows on the counter to hold myself up. “Men do it all the time, and their friends celebrate it. Why is it my best friend can’t be happy for my conquests?”

“Are you happy, though? Really, truly happy?”

I exhale. There’s no hiding the truth. “How would you help me?”

She seems surprised I gave in so easily. I pour myself coffee before it finishes brewing and blow on it violently. Jeannie walks into the small kitchen and stands opposite me. “I’ll line up some dates. You can’t say no, and you must behave.”

“What does that mean exactly?” I narrow my eyes, taking my first sip of bliss.

“No sex until the fifth date, and you have to be yourself, not this caricature you’ve crafted because Hollis left you for a prostitute.”

I hate that she’s a therapist. I hate that she’s right. I hate a lot of things right now, but mostly I hate myself.

Hollis was a good guy. Seven years of my life were given fully to a man who worshipped the ground I walked on. We were on the same page. We liked to go to the farmers’ market on Sunday mornings and have steak on Friday nights. We watched The Office and laughed at the same parts. My mom loved him, and he was a good guy. Not the kind who pretends to be a good guy either. Hollis was genuinely a good guy. Our hobby, the one we shared and traveled around the country doing, is what led to our demise. We were cycling a busy section of Chicago. It was uncomfortable, but some destinations dictate dangerous conditions, and we were pros by this point. I was riding in front of him, something he insisted on so I could set the pace, and so he could keep an eye on me when I heard him crash behind me. A car sideswiped him. While he appeared unharmed at first glance, we soon found out his back needed surgery. Then another excruciating surgery a few months later to repair damage from the first. Hollis became addicted to pain pills.

That’s when I noticed the shift in our relationship. Right around the time he was lying about medicine. I wish I knew which came first so that I could know if I could have fixed it. If somehow, I could have saved us. I tell myself that I couldn’t have. That he would have blown through the insurance money on bigger and better drugs even if I had known. That I couldn’t stop his path. It was his fate, sealed from birth. Me. Us. The accident. Surgery. Addiction. Recovery. Addiction.

He started staying out late when he always used to come home directly after work. I would wake in the morning to find he’d left before sunrise. He became unpredictable, and that’s something pre-accident Hollis never was. One day while he was in the shower, I went through his phone. I’ll never forget that moment because of how the act of distrust made me feel. Like his behavior somehow held the power to change who I was. Going through a man’s stuff wasn’t me—had never even crossed my mind in the past. It wasn’t who I wanted to be. A message from T, with plans to meet up that night was on top, and my stomach sank. Because Hollis truly was a good man to his core, he didn’t lie to me when I confronted him. I almost wish he had spun a tale or concocted an excuse. T was his dealer and a hooker. He’d been sleeping with her, only when high, for months. We agreed to end things then and there.

I felt guilty for leaving him in his time of need. It had to happen. Hollis wasn’t ready to get help for his addiction, and I wouldn’t be another casualty of his decisions. Women need partners, not projects. It’s hard enough to fix ourselves. I still fantasize about the life I’d be living right now if we had picked another destination to cycle instead of Chicago, on that day at that time, but Jeannie tells me it’s bad to dwell on what-ifs. Don’t ask me why I listen to that advice and not her other advice. I’m stubborn. Jeannie takes a step toward me. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah, he left me for a prostitute.” Last I heard from a mutual friend, Hollis was still with her and still off the rails and was deep into hard drugs.

“And that’s not your fault.”

“Obviously, Jeannie. I mean, Jesus, do you really think I think anything I did made him stick his dick into an STD-infested whore? Do you remember the tests and antibiotics I had to go through because I sure do. It’s the drugs. I know that what happened to him and to us could have happened to anyone. It was my turn for bad luck.” I swallow down the bitterness as I think back to when I had to go in and get tested for everything under the sun and all my sadness that followed.

“Okay, that language is harsh, and luck had nothing to do with it. Do you want to talk about this…again? We can, I will always listen.” Hollis. I hate that I allow him this power when he couldn’t muster the courage to change for me and our future. He controls me subconsciously, forcing me into the arms of men who aren’t good. Men who show themselves for who they are upfront.

I shake my head and drink my coffee now that it’s cooled. I feel better with each sip. “If I agree to do your five-date project, and I hate it and it doesn’t fix me, will you agree that you’ll just let me live my life how I see fit?”

“I will never let you ruin your life, Margo, but yes, if you agree to go about this in the right way,”—she holds up one finger— “and you give it your all, I’ll cool off on trying to make you see reason. Within reason.”

“Do I have any say on which guys I go out with?”

She shakes her head. “I’m going to set up a dating profile for you, and I’m going to pick the men based on what I know about you and the type of guy you’ll have success with. I might bring a few other friends into the fold to help me choose.” Jeannie pauses. “I know this takes a lot of trust on your end but consider this homework given to you by your therapist, instead of your friend if you must.”

“I’ll have to report back to you like you’re my mom or something after the dates?” I pour a second cup, grab a new mug, and fill it. I extend it. “This isn’t going to work, but what do I have to lose at this point? If you’re offering this plan, I must be at rock bottom. Is this rock bottom?”

“Well, you haven’t lost your job yet, and I’m still here trying to help, so it’s not the bottom. Look at it as an intervention. I’ve known you since you were six, Margo. I haven’t kept track of the men you’ve been with lately, but I’m smart enough to know they’re probably not the kind who want to get married and start a family.”

Her honesty makes my stomach hurt.

“They’re the opposite of what you need.” She sips her coffee. “No kissing until the second date just to make sure there is emotional chemistry first. You need to connect with a man on a longevity level, not a lust level.”

I exhale, and I don’t have to say what I’m thinking. She knows. This makes me feel out of control, a reckless feeling that seeps into my heart and stings. If a perfect man like Hollis can self-implode causing maximum damage, my chances of finding perfection twice, and not having the universe fuck it up in some way, are slim. “And when you’re here picking up the pieces…again, I’ll tell you it’s your fault.”

“I accept full responsibility to a point, Margo. You must be yourself. Charming, vivacious, witty, and trusting to a fault. You have to be who you truly are, not the caricature you’ve created as a defense mechanism.”

My last sip of coffee tastes bitter. “Vulnerable. You’re asking me to bend the knee and give a stranger the power to destroy me.”

She shakes her head once, eyeing me over her mug. “I’m asking you to move on. I know you want to, so think of this as a push in the right direction.”

Jeannie has had her fair share of bad luck and unearned circumstances, so even though every fiber of my being wants to run away and agree to nothing, I nod. “Five dates,” I repeat. “With how many guys?”

“As many excellent matches as I find or until you find your soul mate. Whichever comes first.” She sets her mug down on the counter. The clank makes me jump. “I have work to do. Go shower and sleep. You need to rest up. Send me a copy of your travel schedule. We’re not going to limit our pool to Southern California. Mr. Forever might be somewhere else.”

I swallow hard. “One rule. No guys like Hollis. I don’t want to even think about him.”

“You got it,” she says, nodding.

My stomach sinks to the floor. “The SEAL base contract starts soon, but the guys I’ll be training are on a training trip right now. You’re lucky I have a lot of free time for this lunacy, Jeannie. Make good choices!” I have to call the last word over my shoulder because she’s already heading toward the desk in the living room to begin her project.

She calls out to my back. “Oh, it’s going to take no time at all to fill your free time, don’t you worry!”

Later that day, she proves herself right as she sends calendar invitations for dates. I have whiplash it happened so quickly.