Chapter 3 #2
Lala must have tried calling me. She usually calls a few times before giving up and calling Clara instead.
Clara is as much Lala’s granddaughter as I am.
After Clara’s mom died, my mom became her legal guardian, so she grew up around my family.
But her bond with Lala started even before that.
When we were around five, Clara asked her if she could call her “Lala,” too.
Lala cried as she said, “Of course, mijita.” I think that’s still one of her favorite memories with Clara.
“Oh, yeah, we’d love to.” Clara smiles.
“What would we love?” I whisper, trying to lean into Clara’s phone to listen. “Oh God, please tell me she’s not trying to set us up on a double date again.”
Clara laughs and shakes her head.
Thank God. A few months ago, Lala set Clara and me up on the worst double date ever. It was with a pair of twins who talked so in sync they finished each other’s sentences and sometimes spoke at the same time, as if they were telepathic with each other. It was so odd.
“Alright, Lala, we love you. See you soon.”
“What did she say?” I ask the second she hangs up. “Did she set you up on a date? Please tell me she’s given up on me and is moving on to you.”
“God, no, she knows better. She asked if we’d want to play bingo with her at the center on Friday. I said we would.”
Something doesn’t feel entirely right about the invitation, but I ignore it because Lala calls us at least once a month to invite us to bingo, and the times we’ve gone, we’ve had a great time.
When Friday finally rolls around, Clara and I realize Lala didn’t just trick us, she bamboozled us.
The tables aren’t arranged in their usual bingo grid. Instead, there are numbered stations with chairs facing each other, each one with a tiny bowl of cookies and a single rose in a vase.
“Oh my God,” I say slowly.
“This isn’t bingo.” Clara looks around, horror written across her face.
Turns out, “bingo” was Lala-speak for speed dating.
“She fucking tricked us,” Clara says in disbelief.
From the back, as if summoned by the accusation, Lala weaves cheerfully through the crowd.
She’s a full-figured woman, solid and comfortable in her skin, dressed in her usual mix of clashing colors—tawny orange with teal, floral against stripes—a look that’s somehow so perfect on her and no one else.
Her signature thick yellow glasses sit on her face, making her eyes appear even bigger than they already are, and her long silver hair is braided neatly down her back.
“Surprise!” she sings as she wraps Clara and me in a tight hug.
“Surprise indeed,” I say, trying not to sound as annoyed as I am.
“Oh, look at you both.” Lala holds us at arm’s length and takes us both in. “So pretty. I will be very surprised if you both don’t walk out of here with dates to the wedding!”
Before we can say a word, Lala’s ushering Clara toward a table with a cute blond. “Be open-minded!” she chirps. “You never know!”
Clara stares back at me, wide-eyed, silently begging me to save her.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth to her as Mrs. Myer—Lala’s long-time bingo friend—takes my hand and guides me toward a table with a beautiful redhead.
And then the dates begin.
Round 1
Her name is Saffron. She sells homemade soy candles online and insists each one is infused with “ancient feminine energy.” Whatever that means.
“What’s your sign?” Saffron asks before I even sit down.
“Virgo.”
She nods solemnly. “I knew it. You have that ‘repressed desire and critical eye’ vibe.”
I blink, half insulted, half amused, not really sure what to say to that. I thought I was an astrology lesbian, but clearly, I’m an amateur.
She slides a business card toward me—her store’s website in bold letters. “Buy the Root Chakra Release. It’ll help you unclench,” she says.
I glance at the card, then back at her. “Unclench?”
She shrugs. “Your aura’s basically a traffic jam. You’ve got bumper-to-bumper anxiety energy. Real gridlock in there.” She points to my sternum.
“Thanks?” Okay, now I’m definitely offended.
Round 2
Jamie barely says more than three words to me as I struggle to keep the conversation going.
I talk about the weather, my job, Clara, and this one dream I had in college, where I was in a musical.
I talk and talk and talk until I can’t come up with anything else, and then we stare at each other for the rest of our time together, which might as well have been an eternity.
Round 3
They go by Nocturna, and they are hot. They’re wearing a black velvet dress and have a stare that makes me feel as if I’m the only person alive.
“I DJ underground raves,” they say coolly.
Their voice is low and smooth, like smoke curling around neon lights. I can’t tell if they’re flirting or if this is just how they are. Probably both, and I’m totally hooked. That is, until they casually mention their partner and how they’re only here looking for a third.
That quickly, I mentally check out. Nothing wrong with being poly, that just could never be me. I take a long sip of my punch and wish for the millionth time today that they had served alcohol.
Round 4
Finally, I land across from Clara. She looks as exhausted as I feel.
“Where the fuck did they find these women?” Clara whispers as she grabs a cookie from the center of the table and bites it like it wronged her. “We need to come up with a good reason to leave. I can’t take any more of this.” She pouts, glancing at the tables behind me.
“She’s not going to let us leave without either finishing these awful dates or until we find someone for the wedding,” I tell her, even though there’s nothing I would love more than to leave.
“I’m never picking up her phone call again. I’m telling her I’m sick and need to leave.”
I roll my eyes and toss a piece of cookie at her. “She’ll just give you Tylenol.”
“Then I’m telling her I’m already dating someone, and then I’ll tell her we broke up, but not until the morning of the wedding, so she can’t do this to me again.”
I open my mouth to argue against her idea, but before I can, Lala comes to our table.
“How are my girls doing? Are you having fun?” She smiles widely.
“So much fun,” Clara says with a tight smile of her own.
Lala starts going down the list of women we still have to meet, but I tune her out as she goes into her familiar spiel. It’s the same one every single time—nice girl, good family, cute as a button, possibly the love of your life.
As she’s going on and on about these women, I try to think through the list of excuses I haven’t used yet to get Clara and me out of this, but I come up blank.
“Yeah, they sound great, Lala, but I’m seeing someone, so I can’t be here,” Clara says dryly.
My attention is entirely on them as I watch this play out. There’s absolutely no way Lala is going to believe her.
“What?” Lala asks, one eyebrow arched. “When did this happen?” She turns to me for answers, but I don’t have any, so I shrug.
“A couple of weeks ago. It’s still so new I didn’t want to say anything yet,” Clara lies, and I narrow my eyes at her.
Lala watches her for a few seconds, probably trying to figure out if she believes this or not. She must have decided that she does because she excitedly clasps her hands together and says, “Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you.” She wraps Clara in a tight hug, and my mouth drops open.
Clara turns to me with a triumphant expression and a wide grin. I can’t believe that actually worked. Great, now Lala is going to double down on setting me up. Especially if she thinks Clara—the forever bachelorette—is finally dating someone.
“Who is it? What’s her name? How did this happen? Tell me everything,” Lala says excitedly as she pulls up a chair next to Clara.
Clara grabs a strand of her hair and twists it between her index and thumb—a nervous habit she’s had since she was a kid.
She’s never been a good liar, especially when she has to make it up on the spot.
Clara turns to me with wide eyes, and then an idea strikes.
Not a great idea, possibly a terrible idea, but I’m out of options.
“It’s me,” I say, my heart steadily picking up pace until it’s pounding in my chest.
Lala turns to me as her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
Clara’s eyes go so wide, I swear they are about to pop out of their sockets.
“Oh?” Lala leans forward. “Is this why you’ve been turning down most of your dates recently?” She looks intensely between Clara and me.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice a little shaky. I try to swallow the knot lodged in my throat, but it won’t budge.
“Oh, finally.” Lala lets out a long, relieved sigh.
Clara blinks. Once. Twice. Then, she stares at Lala in utter confusion. She shifts around in her chair, body stiffening.
“Finally?” I repeat, choking through the word. “What do you mean by ‘finally’?”
“I knew you two would eventually figure it out,” Lala says, and an icy nervousness runs through my veins.
Both our mouths fall open, and we stare at each other, frozen.
Lala thought we’d end up together? Why?
“You have no idea how happy this makes me. You’re perfect for each other.”
I laugh nervously, not entirely sure why, but I do.
Clara pouts before breaking into a tiny smile, so small it almost looks sad, and there’s something in her eyes I can’t quite make out. Maybe she’s processing what Lala is saying. I know I am.
“Yeah, she is. I’m so lucky,” I say, making sure to look straight at Clara, who gives me a tiny, tightly lipped smile.
I reach for her hand, and she starts to pull away, but I hold on a little tighter, and she stops.
When Lala is done gushing, she announces that we are a set pair for the rest of the night, and everyone cheers. Clara and I smile awkwardly and thank the endless line of grandmas stopping by to congratulate us.
“Alright now, lovebirds, I’ll check in on you two later.” Lala smiles and gives our intertwined hands a gentle pat. “I need to make sure Miranda’s granddaughter meets Jocelyn’s. Those two are going to look perfect together.” She turns around and flags someone down at the other end of the room.
As soon as she’s out of earshot, Clara leans in and hisses, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I’m sorry, you gave me the perfect out and I took it,” I whine.
“God damn it, Ale,” she groans. “It’s such a bad idea.”
“What do you mean? It’s perfect! My family loves you, and Lala already thinks we’re soulmates. It’ll get me out of these dates; it couldn’t be more perfect. Plus, it wouldn’t be the first time we pretend to be dating,” I remind her.
“Yeah, but that was around annoying people at bars who wouldn’t leave us alone, not your family. Your family, who’s mine, too. You don’t see how this could completely blow up in our faces?”
She’s right. I hadn’t thought it through, and now I’ve put her in an uncomfortable position. This was too big a decision to make on my own, and the excitement I felt at being free from all these dates quickly fades.
“You’re right, I should have talked to you about it first. It’s unfair of me to drag you into this. If you really think this is a terrible idea, I will tell Lala I was lying and let her set me up on a million dates to make up for it.”
Clara playfully rolls her eyes at me. “Well, you’re not giving me much of a choice when you word it like that,” she says with that annoyingly perfect smirk of hers, the cute little dimple on her left cheek popping out.
“You don’t think everyone will think it’s weird since we basically grew up together? ”
“Nah.” I let out a shaky laugh. “We’re not actually related. And us dating”—I add air quotes—“doesn’t have to go on forever, just until the wedding is over. Four weeks tops.”
Though maybe even less if I get a job in New York. It even gives us the perfect “breakup” reason, but I’m not ready to share that with Clara yet.
Clara studies me for a good ten minutes. I want to hurry her along, but I need her to be as okay with this as I am. I know I’m asking a lot.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she says, and my heart sinks. “But—I’d do anything for you, and since you already told her, there’s no reason to make this worse for both of us.”
Inside, I’m practically throwing confetti. On the outside, I try to play it cool, but an excited shriek slips out.
“Thank you, I love you, I promise I’ll be the best fake girlfriend you’ve ever had,” I whisper as I bite back the full-on smile threatening to take over my face. “You’re the best, you know that?”
“I know.” Clara smiles smugly.