Chapter 13
13
Gabe
Fuck it, I’m going to ask her out, I think as I jog down our country road in the pre-dawn cold, letting the “text your crush” playlist I made last night encourage me to do just that. I’ve spent the past week orchestrating ways to bump into Kayla. Twice I’ve picked up lunch from the café for Adam, my dad, and me, and once I ventured to the library, where I realized, panic-stricken, that I was going to have to choose something that would meet Kayla’s standards. Ideally it would also be something that I would actually like to read during my excruciatingly long evenings at home. I finally settled on Ishiguro’s The Buried Giant , which earned me what I interpreted as an approving nod. It took all I had not to mutter “phew” as she checked it out.
She’s been more reserved than she was the night she cooked me dinner, but still pleasant, and willing to answer questions about her mom and whether she’s heard back from the bank. It turns out that they responded to her almost immediately by sending her mother a notice of her right to request mediation— which seems to me like an admission that they screwed up. I’m hoping it won’t seem like I expect some kind of quid pro quo, but I just can’t let her slip away again.
I wish I hadn’t been such a coward in high school, but she seemed to have a knack for preemptively letting me know that I didn’t have a prayer. In April of that year she’d announced, apropos of nothing, that she wasn’t going to prom. The tips at the diner from the pre-prom and post-prom crowd were too good, she’d claimed, and she was trying to save all that she could for college. I’d ended up going with friends and having a terrible time. I’d rather do calculus , I thought, gazing at my classmates as they bumped and grinded (ground?) to mid-2010s dance-pop hits, than spend another minute here without her .
So I pulled a When-Harry-Met-Sally and drove over to the diner once I’d gotten my friends settled at a house party. And when she finally emerged about 1:00 AM, looking tired and rumpled, I stepped out of the car with the mathiest math song I could find playing on the stereo.
She’d laughed a loud, ringing laugh that made me feel like I would explode with joy.
“You couldn’t come to the dance,” I called. “So I’m bringing the dance to you.”
“What on earth is this song?” she asked as she crossed the street to where I’d parked, a huge grin lighting up her face.
“‘Mandelbrot Set’ by Jonathan Coulton,” I’d explained. “What, don’t you know it?”
“And it’s about…?”
“The renowned mathematician Benoit Mandelbrot,” I replied. “Surely you’re familiar with his work.” I gently pulled her to me and we began to dance, a slow waltz totally out of step with the music.
“You know, I don’t even really like math that much,” she said as I spun her around. “I just like?—”
“—hanging out with me?” I supplied hopefully.
“—puzzles,” she finished. She continued to smile at me, her face just inches from mine on the deserted sidewalk next to the courthouse, JoCo still serenading us with equations. This is the moment , I thought. If I could just keep from falling into the fractals of her agate-gray eyes, if I could tell her that I wanted to stop messing around and be her guy…
“This isn’t a date,” she’d said then, resolutely.
“Um… no?” I’d replied, intelligently, struggling to get my bearings. “Why not?”
“Because if it was, we would have set a time, place and spending limit that were acceptable to both of us farther in advance. And we’d have agreed on who was going to pay for what. And it would be ten years from now.” She stepped away from me slightly, without letting her hand slip fully off my shoulder. Her expression was soft, kind, and a little sad.
“Why ten years from now?” I asked seriously, fingertips still touching her waist. Even in the harsh streetlights, with sweaty hair and a greasy uniform, she was still the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. I couldn’t bear to wait ten years. I couldn’t bear to wait one minute.
“Because I’m not ready now—for anyone—but I might be then.”
“Well then,” I replied, trying to inwardly balance the thrill that she wants to say yes with the disappointment that she’s not saying yes , “I suppose I have to respect your limits.” My dumb calculus joke earned me one last smile before she ruffled my hair and walked to her car.
It’s been eight years. I’m a little ahead of schedule, but we’re both here, now, and I’m willing to take a chance.
Over the course of that day, I compose about 500 messages to text to my crush and don’t send any of them. I must do a little bit of work, because Mark and Nancy seem as pleased with me as ever, though I couldn’t say what any of it was.
Around 5:00, Adam comes by the courthouse on his way home from work. I’ve been wondering all week if he’ll see the letter Kayla sent to the bank and suspect that I had a hand in it. Normally he would consider a case like Kayla’s beneath him, but our argument in his driveway the other day makes me uneasy. I don’t really think he would sabotage her, but it’s not impossible. It doesn’t seem like a bad idea to stay on his good side.
“Hey, little bro,” he says. “Lucy’s at a bachelorette party in Jeff City this weekend and the kids are having a sleepover at Mom and Dad’s. I’m going to Mickey’s tonight with Ryan. What do you say we try to find you a rebound girl? Put that bitch Gretchen out of your mind?”
I would rather twist a thousand crepe-paper streamers for Hungry Hearts than try to talk to women with Adam breathing down my neck. And the woman that I’m actually interested in is unlikely to be there. Stay on his good side , stay on his good side , I think to myself.
“Sure,” I reply, faking a smile. “Sounds great.”
Later that night, Adam, Ryan and I have a beer at his place before piling into Adam’s Mercedes and heading out on the town.
Ryan graduated with Adam and is—surprise!—another member of one of the fifteen families. His parents are physicians and are on the board of trustees of Kentwood Memorial Hospital, but fortunately for me, he has no unmarried sisters. We never really got along when we were younger, but he’s mellowed out some. He’ll never be my best friend, but he can be an okay guy to have a beer with.
We pull up to Mickey’s around 9:00. It might be early for a big city, but in Kentwood, the night is already in full swing. The dance floor is crowded and music blasts from speakers set up near the back.
I find us a wobbly high top table while Ryan gets us a round of drinks. Adam leans back on his stool, surveying the crowd. He’s in full “bachelor mode” now, checking out the girls. For his little brother, of course. I let myself study him for a second. Faint lines are beginning to appear around his eyes and mouth and there are a few gray hairs at his temples, even though he’s only 30. Adam has always approached everything in life with a kind of angry intensity and I wonder, not for the first time, if I have ever seen him actually relax. What does he think would happen if he stopped trying to control everything around him?
He catches me looking at him and redirects my gaze to a petite brunette who is dancing energetically with her friends.
“Look at that ass,” he mouths to me over the music.
I mentally roll my eyes, but nevertheless nod, trying to play along.
Ryan puts a Bud Light and a shot of Jim Beam in front of each of us. Adam stands to make a toast.
“To my little brother,” he says. “May he get laid soon, so I don’t have to see his sad face all the time.” May Kayla Johnson agree to have dinner with me , I think with an inward smile.
“Thanks, guys. Let’s have a good time tonight,” I say.
“That’s the spirit,” replies Adam.
We down our shots. The liquor burns in my throat, but it’s a good burn. I instantly start to feel more confident, and wonder how soon I can escape to take another crack at that text message.
Adam slams his shot glass onto the table and burps. “It’s pathetic that you two losers are the only people I could get to come out tonight. Brandon said he might show up, but only if he and Chrissie can convince their kid to go to bed at a decent hour. Weak.”
Ryan nods. “Yeah, it’s just not the same since everyone started having kids. I texted Zach, but Emily’s due any day now, so she’s basically got him on house arrest.”
I perk up at the mention of Zach and Emily. She’s Gretchen’s older sister; I had no idea she was pregnant. I feel a twinge at the thought that I could have been an uncle to this baby, but now will be nothing. And have Gretchen and I really been broken up long enough for someone to gestate an entire human? Adam and Paul are right—I really do need to get back out there.
I halfheartedly scan the crowd and startle when I spot a familiar face.
Kayla of all people is leaning against the bar with Allison Ambrose, the girl she always hung around with in high school. I knew Allison a little, but was mostly just aware of her as Kayla’s friend. Seeing the two of them together makes me feel like no time has passed. Allison is dressed to the nines like she always was, whereas Kayla is wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen her with her hair down. It flows down her back, straight and soft, and her t-shirt is tight in all the right places.
I force myself to look away to avoid attracting Adam’s attention. I know better than to approach her in front of my brother and pray that she remembers him well enough to stay clear. He doesn’t know I’ve been going over to her place. I’ve told Mom and Dad, vaguely, that I’ve been going “out,” and they’ve been too wrapped up in work and Hungry Hearts to pay much attention. I steal a glance back in her direction. Now it seems like she’s looking at me .
“Hey, who’s that tall dude with Allison Ambrose?” I hear Ryan say.
Oh, God. Now both Adam and Ryan are looking at Allison and Kayla. Adam furrows his brow.
“Not sure… I heard a rumor that she hooked up with some history professor from Benton State. Maybe that’s the guy.”
“She’s dating her history professor ?” Ryan snorts incredulously. “Isn’t that, like, illegal?”
“No, you idiot, she’s got to be at least 26. But I bet she got an A in his class.” Adam grins unpleasantly.
“Well, if I were you, Gabe, I’d go see how serious it is. Allison was always real friendly in high school, if you catch my meaning.”
I do. I do, and I hate him, and I want to leave before…
“I think Gabe might prefer Kayla Johnson, but I’ve tried to warn him against getting snared by her , if he doesn’t want to end up in a trailer park,” Adam smirks.
“Oh, yeah, man, stay away from that. I mean, she gets herself a fancy degree but then ends up working as a waitress ? She’d just drag you down.”
I want to punch them both, but also avoid getting into a brawl in front of the entire bar. “You guys are the reason people foment revolutions,” I joke, only half kidding. They both give me a puzzled look. “Why don’t we go somewhere else?” I continue, eager to get Adam away from Kayla. “There’s not much going on here anyway.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you hit on that brunette,” Adam says, shoving me a little too hard in her direction. “C’mon, us married guys have to live vicariously through single guys like you.”
I’m about to shove him back, having finally had enough of his macho shit, when I hear a voice over my shoulder.
“Wilson, can I talk to you for a sec?”