Chapter 20 - Scarlett
SCARLETT
“Aiya! Scarlett. Stop slamming things!”
“I wasn’t slamming things. These cupboard doors are too loose. Add that to the list of things the handyman needs to fix around here.”
My mother gives me a look that says, It’s not the cupboards that need to get screwed by a handy man, Scarlett. But what she says out loud is, “Why don’t I reheat some leftovers for you. You’re still hungry. Did we unpack the plates yet?”
“I’m not hungry. I just want to get everything unpacked. I don’t want you to have to live out of boxes for a week. It’s the worst.”
My mother opens up one of the smaller boxes that’s on the counter and talks to it. “First she wants me to put everything in boxes so she can get rid of it. Now she wants to take everything out of boxes so she can put it all in its proper place.”
While she continues to mumble at a bubble-wrapped coffee mug, I surreptitiously check my phone. The total lack of text notifications is not the reason for my mood. But it doesn’t help that Dylan still hasn’t texted me back since this morning.
Figures.
I finally send him a blatant signal that I’m open to flirtation and sexting about his pants situation, and he immediately loses interest.
He only wanted me because he couldn’t have me.
Fucking. Men.
But it’s fine—because what was I doing initiating that kind of thing anyway?
“Maybe there’s a nice man for you to meet in this building…” She says it in a singsong way, but to my ears, it sounds like a threat.
“Mother.”
“What? You saying you don’t need to meet a nice man?”
“Why would I want to meet a man who lives in your building?”
“What’s wrong with this building?”
“Nothing. It’s great, actually. But it wouldn’t exactly be ideal for me to date someone who lives here.”
“Why not? That way I can keep an eye on him for you.” She winks at me, or tries to, anyway. She’s just as bad at winking as my dad is, except when she does it, it looks like she’s applying mascara.
“Here—I found the box with the plates. We’ll put them in this cupboard, yes?”
“Scarlett, take a break. You know, in Chinese we have a saying. It means, If you are destined to meet, it will happen even if you are miles apart. If you are not destined to meet, you would not get to know each other even if you are face-to-face.”
“In Western psychotherapy, we have a saying: Mind your own business, Mom.”
“My daughter’s happiness is my number one business. The saying means if you are not destined to meet someone who lives in this building, then you will not meet him. But if you are destined to meet him, then you will.”
“So basically everyone we meet is someone we’re destined to meet. That’s convenient. By the way, do you really need fifty plates? Why don’t I take some of these to Goodwill?”
“Why don’t you go sit with the boys in the living room and calm down?”
“I am calm.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I whip it out so fast, it’s embarrassing.
ADAM: Hey. We’re home now. When are you dropping Noah off?
“It’s Adam, huh? He wants you to drop Noah off now?”
“Yes. He can wait. Let’s finish going through the kitchen stuff.”
ADAM: It would be great if you could drop him off soon so we can put him to bed and then watch a movie.
ADAM: But whenever you’re ready.
ADAM: But when do you think you’ll be coming by?
“Kitchen stuff can wait until tomorrow. TV is set up here. Bedroom is set up here. Everything else can wait until tomorrow. Why don’t you drop Noah off and then go home. Take a nice bath. Have a nice glass of wine.”
God dammit, that’s exactly what I want to do right now.
ADAM: We just don’t want to have to keep pausing the movie once we start.
Oh my God. He doesn’t care about pausing a movie. He doesn’t want anything to interrupt sex with his wife.
“Why you look so angry, Scarlett? You can go.”
“Adam can wait.” I slip my phone back in my pocket, open up a cupboard, and then slam it shut because my phone vibrates again immediately. “Jesus. What is his problem tonight?”
DYLAN: Hey. You done working yet? Because I need to know just how detailed you’d like me to get about the way I fantasize about you handling certain situations. I would also urge you to consider allowing me to describe what I envision doing to you in certain situations.
Okay.
Good thing I’m super chill and not too excited about finally getting a text from Dylan. Because that would be lame. My heart is only racing because I’m so excited to go home for that nice bath and glass of wine.
“Well. Look at that smile on your face. I have not seen you smile like that in months, Scarlett. Years, maybe.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I walk out of the kitchen and head for the guest bathroom. My dad and son are watching the baking show, as usual. So helpful. “Start getting ready to go, kiddo. Time to drop you off at your dad’s.”
“Moooommm! Can’t I just stay here tonight? Grandpa said I can stay in the guest room!”
“Why do you want to stay in the guest room?”
My son slaps his forehead and drops his head back because he can’t believe I would ask such a stupid question. “Because I’ve never slept in that room before!”
Gosh. I don’t even remember what it feels like to be that open to new experiences.
“You’re coming back tomorrow morning anyway, right?” my dad asks. “You can drop him off at Adam’s on your way back.”
“Fine. I’ll let Adam know.”
My dad holds up his hand to high-five Noah. “Wow, I didn’t expect her to say yes right away. I didn’t even have to go to Plan B!”
“What’s Plan B?” Noah asks.
“Well, I don’t have one yet. Sometimes you can overplan these things.”
Variation on a Chevy Chase quote from Three Amigos. Good one, Dad.
“Why don’t you stay the night too, sweetheart? One of you can sleep on the sofa.”
“Oooh! I wanna sleep on the sofa!”
“Um. I think I’ll go home, actually. I need to catch up on some stuff.” Sexting stuff.
I shut the powder room door and lean against it.
Okay. First I will take care of the Adam situation.
ME: Why don’t you just go ahead and start that movie. Noah wants to spend the night at my parents’ new place. I’ll drop him off tomorrow.
DYLAN: Okay… Which movie am I going to start?
ME: Shit. Wrong convo. Hang on.
God, I love that he just went along with the movie thing.
ME: Noah wants to stay the night at my parents’ condo. I’ll bring him by tomorrow.
ADAM: When?
ME: I’ll let you know tomorrow morning. Have a great night!
ME: Hi. Not at work anymore. I am open to allowing you to describe the above mentioned situations and how you would handle me.
ME: Them.
ME: It?
ME: Just go ahead and text me whatever.
DYLAN: Okay. Well, I actually just got in my car. I’ve been at the gym for three hours. That text you sent me this morning got me kind of worked up.
ADAM: I need a ballpark time for tomorrow, Scarlett. Melissa wants to go to the farmers’ market in the morning.
ME: Well, I’ve been kind of worked up for the past few weeks, if you must know…
ADAM: What is that supposed to mean?
ME: Shit.
ME: Just go to the farmers’ market in the morning and tell me when you’re back.
ME: You know what? Can we continue this conversation when I get back home?
DYLAN: Absolutely. Let me know when you’re there. I’ll be back at my place in a few minutes.
ME: Great. Drive safe.
“Drive safe.” Super sexy texting there, Scarlett. Why don’t you ask him if he ate dinner and had a healthy bowel movement today too?
ME: But I really want to hear about that pants situation, and I have some ideas of my own as to what I could do for it.
ADAM: What has gotten into you?
ME: Shit. Never mind.
I’m going to lose my therapist license and my sexting license and possibly my mom license.
ADAM: Are you working as a tailor now, or are you dating someone? If you’re dating someone, you should tell me.
ADAM: I’m not mad. I just think I should know if there’s someone significant in your lives.
ME: Oh really? Well maybe you’ll find out about it when you see the cover of US Weekly while standing in line at Ralphs.
No response.
Fuck you, Adam.
I unpack Noah’s toothbrush and give him ten good night kisses before flying out to my car.
It’s raining.
When it rains in Los Angeles, it pours. This city wasn’t designed to handle something as basic and inevitable as water falling from the sky.
Like my psyche isn’t built to handle the concept of hot sex with someone I might actually fall in love with.
Although, I’m pretty sure there was a time when that was what I lived for.
It takes half an hour to get home, at least five minutes longer than it usually would this time of day because of the weather, and I have an argument with my ex-husband in my head the entire way.
By the time I’ve parked the car in the garage, I’ve convinced myself that I should just take a bath, go to bed, and forget about texting Dylan.
By the time I’m in the house, I am thinking I shouldn’t even meet him for coffee tomorrow—I can’t let my limbic system and hypothalamus make decisions that could potentially affect my entire life and his!
When I’ve taken off my shoes and used the bathroom and fed the dogs, I am realizing how crazy it would be to meet him for coffee to discuss whether or not I should have sex with him.
When I check my phone and see that I have a missed call from Dylan Brodie, I think to myself, Awww. He called me. I better call him back so he doesn’t feel bad.
He answers right away. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“I have to tell you something.”
Great. He probably met someone in the last half hour and doesn’t want to see me tomorrow. “Yeah. Me too.”
“Can I go first?”
“Sure.”
“I think your parents may have moved into my building. I didn’t see them, but there was a big moving truck outside my condo today. When I was pulling into my garage after the gym, I saw you coming out of the lobby and getting into your car on the street. So I followed you. Is that okay?”
“What do you mean you followed me?”
“I mean I drove behind you in my car and I’m outside your house right now.”