Ten #2
“You’ve been friends since college and you’re both single more often than not,” he says, trailing after me. “Has nothing really
ever happened between you two?”
“Nope.” Not until this summer. But that’s all pretend. “You can’t seem to wrap your head around it, but I’m happy here,” I tell him. “Happy with the way things are.” Mostly.
“Enough to give up any chance of moving back?”
I hesitate. Am I willing to lose somewhere that was a part of me for so long, just because I don’t want it right now?
Scott shuts the door with a smug smile. “I’ll tell Dad you’re thinking about it.”
I am thinking about it, that’s the trouble. I can’t stop thinking about it, not when Scott takes one look at the contents of my fridge and says he’d rather pay stadium prices than
drink the beer I have on hand. Not even Joe catching a fly ball and giving it to the kid a few rows below us is enough to
get my mind off my responsibility to take over the family business.
All I can think is, am I ungrateful?
I picture Dad’s face when I told him I was doing an internship at a home-improvement chain the summer before I graduated,
instead of coming back home to work like I usually did. I think about how I’ve tried so many times to explain the farm isn’t
just good memories, it’s sad ones, too. About how maybe I’ve tricked myself and it’s not really that I want to be here, but
that I don’t want to be there .
Maybe it is an act of rebellion, or entitlement, or a stubborn desire to not end up like him. Dad spent years living with
regret and I don’t want that for myself. I’ve never told Mia about my feelings because I don’t want to risk losing her. But
if my dad is trying, after nearly fifteen years, to move on with his life, then maybe I should rethink things.
Because that look in Mia’s eyes yesterday... It wasn’t apathy, or disinterest. It was desire. The same desire that flared
in my own chest, despite years of pushing it aside.
I guess my brother is right. There’s more to consider than where I make my home.
There’s whether I’m going to end up stuck, just like Dad, dreaming of a someday that’s out of reach.
I need to decide whether what’s between Mia and me will always be enough.
Whether trying for more is worth the risk.
And this experiment is the perfect way to find out.
Scott had it backward. I’m staying for me, but if I move, it would be because I need to let her go.
We make it to the bottom of the third inning before Joe stretches and says, “Hey, I’m going to grab some nachos. Want anything
from concessions?”
Scott, who already inhaled a Chicago-style hot dog and a pretzel and is happily drinking a beer, shakes his head. I do, too,
but Joe shoots me a look. “Don’t you owe me one?”
I catch his eye and realize he wants an explanation about my supposed date. Knowing he won’t let it go, I sigh and scoot my
way along the crowded aisle after him, since Scott catching wind of anything Mia-related is the last thing I want.
Once we’re in line, Joe turns to me, dark brown eyes alight with interest. “All right, you’ve kept me hanging all week. Who
is she?”
I already went through all the possibilities—telling him a version of the truth or making something up—and haven’t settled
on a decision.
Hands in my pockets, I shrug. “I was trying something new. Didn’t work out.”
“What, like a blind date?”
My boss tried to set me up with her niece once. Not going that route again. “Something like that.”
Joe frowns in sympathy, which makes me feel like shit for not being honest. “What went wrong?”
“We want different things.” A cheer goes up from the stadium and we turn to see the Cubs have scored another run. We both
curse under our breath; Joe’s a White Sox fan and rooting for the Brewers like me and Scott.
The people ahead of us step up to order, and he says, “Sorry to hear it, but I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there.”
I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You haven’t dated anyone lately. Not since Mia ended things with her last boyfriend.”
“Yeah, I have.” There was the disastrous blind date, and Morris set me up with someone. We went out a few times, but it was
clear she was just trying to make him jealous.
“No one long-term.” He looks over at me, expression serious. “I was starting to think you were staying single for a reason.”
It only takes a second for me to connect the dots. “You think I’m staying single for Mia?” If he’s noticed something, does
that mean she has, too?
He lifts a shoulder. “I’ve never seen you look at any of your girlfriends the way you look at her.”
“Because I haven’t met the right person.”
“Maybe you have,” he says.
I drop my eyes to the floor, popcorn crunching under my shoes as people jostle into line behind us. “She doesn’t want that.”
He knows all about Mia’s policy on dating friends.
“She didn’t want that,” he says. “People change. She’s been single for what, almost two years?” Another cheer, but neither of us bothers
to check the scoreboard. “Hell of a long time, man.”
“You think she’s...” I don’t trust myself to say the words aloud.
“Holding out for you?” He shifts to make way for a passing group of teenagers. “Don’t know, man. But wouldn’t now be the perfect
time to find out?”
The next cashier opens up, sparing me from having to answer. We place our orders and stand off to the side of the counter,
waiting.
“Did you know Sera and I have been attending relationship retreats?” Joe raises his voice to be heard over the pulsing beat of a player’s walk-up song. “We started a few months ago, to make sure we’re in the habit of making time for each other when the baby comes.”
Grateful he’s left off badgering me about Mia, I say, “Good for you. Is it helpful?”
He nods. “Especially for communication. One thing I realized is how often I would choose to stay quiet about something, rather
than risk messing with the status quo. But when I told her, I found out Sera wanted me to speak up. She’d been waiting for
it.”
By now I can tell what he’s getting at. “I can’t just ask Mia out.” Except I did, kind of, and it got twisted into faking
things. None of which I can get Joe’s advice on, and that sucks.
He picks up our beers and hands me one. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not that simple. Think how awkward it would be for you and Sera if we broke up.” Not to mention how hard it
would be to tell Mia I wanted to stop pretending, or that I never was in the first place.
“The alternative is one or both of you finds a partner and you drift apart.” He takes a long drink of his brimming cup, and
I follow suit, not wanting to end up with beer spilled down my front on the way back to our seats. “Either way,” he continues,
“this doesn’t end up with you staying best friends for life.”
“That’s the old bullshit of men and women can’t be friends.”
He shakes his head. “You can’t stay friends with someone you’re in love with. Not forever.”
My first impulse is to deny it. “I’ve been Mia’s friend for almost a decade.”
Joe stays quiet, and I think maybe I’ve finally won the argument, but then realize I’ve denied the wrong part. I said I could
stay friends with Mia, not that I don’t love her.
Because I do.