Chapter 5 #2
“So, when my mom tried to set us up on a date, I decided to freak him out. I showed up and pretended to be drunk so he wouldn’t ask me on a second date.
Like, I was tripping all over myself and stuff.
But then he thought I was flirting with him, like, trying to fall so he’d have to catch me?
Knight in shining armor, you know? And I’m like, dude, you’re not my type.
It’s not going to happen. Besides, if I wanted to go out with him, I would’ve just asked him.
I wouldn’t have let my mom set us up. Gross. ”
“That’s so relatable,” I say as I set some mugs in the sink. “You’ve gotta just ask yourself, you know?”
She looks at me with doubt in her eyes. “Yeah? When’s the last time you asked someone on a date?”
The correct answer is three years ago, when I’d been on two solid dates with a really nice guy, and, emboldened, I’d taken the initiative to ask him on a third date.
He’d said yes, and we’d gone to dinner, and, still emboldened, I’d accepted his invite to come over, thinking maybe it had been long enough that my vaginismus had been miraculously cured.
It hadn’t been; and after he tried and failed to finger me, I immediately knew there wasn’t going to be a fourth date, and I felt bad about it, and so somehow I’d ended up apologizing for not being able to be fingered, and then I’d given him an apologetic hand job. How’s that for logic?
That’s bad for logic, Cobalt says.
Key Lime chimes in. Some might even call it illogical.
Anyway. That was the last time I got that far—in number of dates and number of bases—with a guy. It was also the last time I took the initiative to ask a guy on a date. Rest in peace, Jason.
Rose raises her eyebrows at me, waiting for a response.
“Oh—uh…a couple months ago,” I lie.
“Hmm. What about your last relationship?”
The correct answer is never, but if I want to bond with my co-worker, I have to remain cool in her eyes, so I say, “College.”
“Geez,” Rose says. “Forever ago.”
“I’m literally five years out of college.”
“That’s over two times longer than I’ve been in college,” she says. I scowl at her before she continues. “What was the deal? The college relationship?”
“Um? We met through…friends? And then we dated and now we’re not?”
Rose looks at me expectantly. “Wow, you’re so good at telling stories. What was his name?”
I blink rapidly. “…Arthur?”
“You’re joking, right? Please tell me that’s a joke. You did not actually date a guy named Arthur.”
The front door chimes as it opens, and Rose stops her questioning with a frustrated humph. I do not think I have made any meaningful inroads in our friendship, but I will remain committed.
A teenage boy approaches the counter, carrying a backpack so overstuffed that his entire body tilts forward toward the counter. He orders an iced tea lemonade, then sets the book he was carrying down on the counter to dig through his pocket for his wallet.
I nod at the book. “The Handmaid’s Tale?”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Summer homework. My parents are making me get it done early.”
He hands me a wad of cash, and I start counting it and making change. “That’s a favorite of mine. How’d you like it?”
“Boring. I read fifty pages and I’m going to google the rest.” He puts his wallet back in his pocket.
“Maybe you should give it another chance,” I suggest, returning his change. He deposits it in the tip jar, and I send out a word of thanks to his parents for teaching him well.
“Why?” he asks. “It’s just a boring old book.”
I offer him a lopsided smile. “You know, where I used to live, that book was banned. High schoolers weren’t allowed to read it in class.”
He narrows his eyes at me, an interested glint flickering in his expression. “Seriously?”
“Mmhmm,” I hum. “It’s banned in several states around the country, actually. There are quite a few people out there who don’t want students like you to read it.”
He places a hand on the book and slides it toward himself, as if he’s making sure I don’t take it from him. “Why?”
I put my hands on the counter and lean forward. “How about this. You read the rest of it. If you do, come back next week, and I’ll give you a free iced tea lemonade.”
He crosses his arms, sizing me up. “Make it a large.”
“Fine. A large.” I cross my arms, mirroring his posture. “If you read the whole book and tell me why you think it might be politically controversial, then you get your large drink.”
He sticks out his hand, and we shake on it. “I’m Kurt, by the way,” he says.
“And I’m Emma. I’ll have your drink out in a minute,” I say, and he nods, picking up his book and walking over to a table in the corner to set up shop.
Another customer walks up behind him, serious brown eyes studying me from behind messy waves. His brows are furrowed, and his lips are pulled to the side.[*1] He looks like he doesn’t know why he’s here, and I’m not sure why he is, either.
Rose appears next to me. “Hey, Harrison,” she says. Her cheeks turn bright red, and she tucks her hair behind her ear.
Oh, fantastic.
“Hi, Rose,” he says, clearing his throat. His eyes are still locked with mine.
She gestures vaguely in my direction. “This is Emma. She’s new.”
“Hi, Emma,” he says at the same time I say, “Yes, I know Harrison.”
Rose finally turns her attention away from Harrison and meets my eyes. “Jo already introduced you to our regulars?”
I blink, then look at Harrison, who also blinks. I blink again. “Yes?”
No one says anything.
“Hey, Rose?” I ask.
Rose waits a moment for me to say something, then says, “Yes, Emma?”
“I think it’s time for your break,” I say. Rose narrows her eyes at me. “Like, right now.”
She opens her mouth to say something, then looks at Harrison, then looks back at me, then looks back at Harrison. Her eyes widen with realization, and she nods and walks away.
I turn around, clearing my throat. “Gonna have fun explaining that after you leave.”
“You didn’t need to do that,” he says, putting his hands into his pockets and taking a deep breath. “I truly just came to get coffee.”
“I haven’t scared you away yet?”
“You almost did.” He gives me a gentle smile, small crinkles forming around his eyes. “But Jo makes really good coffee. Didn’t want to stop coming just because I’m afraid of awkward social interactions. Besides, I want to support—” He pauses. “Jo Jo’s.”
“Yes,” I say. “Jo Jo’s.”
He stares at me blankly. The curtain to the back room rustles as Rose very obviously stands right out of sight, listening.
“Jo isn’t here, though,” I say. “So, you’ll have to settle for my coffee.”
Rose’s muted voice comes from the direction of the curtains. “He likes my iced lattes better than Jo’s.”
I raise an eyebrow at Harrison, who shakes his head and mouths No, I don’t before calling out in Rose’s direction, “Rose, could I please have a small iced latte?”
Rose reappears and gets to work, seemingly having decided making Harrison’s drink is more interesting than taking a break. Harrison hands me his card, and I attempt to make small talk because I am trying to Do Better.
“How was work today?” I ask, nodding at his scrubs. This time, they’re green and covered in tiny illustrations of turtles and bunnies. Or, tortoises and hares, I suppose.
He hesitates, as if deciding whether he wants our relationship to be such that we engage in small talk. “Uh—good.”
I hand his credit card back to him. “Kids of Jamaica Plain staying healthy?”
“Mostly.” He nods, then grins. “I saw a patient today who got a Lego stuck in his nose for the third time this year.”
A cackle escapes my mouth, and I cover it with a cough. “That sounds serious. How does that happen?”
“It happens when you stick a Lego up your nose,” he says, deadpan.
This time, I fully release the cackle. “I bet you just love this kid, don’t you?”
“Guilty,” he says, a glimmer in his eyes.[*2] He nods toward the table near the window where Kurt is sitting and lowers his voice. “I can tell how much you love working with kids. You’re good at it. That was…that made me happy. To watch you in your element.”
It hits me like a punch in the gut. I swallow, words caught in my mouth. “Well. You know. I don’t teach anymore.”
Harrison’s lips start to push into a distinct “wh” shape, but he stops himself, as if deciding he doesn’t actually want to know that much information about me. My feelings are hurt even though I wouldn’t have wanted to answer.
“Handmaid’s Tale is a good one,” he says.
Before I can agree, Rose appears at my side and hands him the iced latte he ordered. He ordered a small, but it’s a large. “I think so, too. I binged all of it in, like, two weeks,” she says.
Harrison’s eyes dart toward mine, and I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. I don’t know whether I’m holding back a laugh at Rose’s attempt to be included or a smile at the feeling of sharing a joke with Harrison, but the feeling in my mouth seems to extend to a gurgling in my stomach.
Before I can make a fool of myself (and create a health code violation) by starting to drool blood, I turn around to deliver Kurt’s iced tea lemonade.
Skip Notes
*1 Furrowed brows · Lips pulled to the side · Tense body | Emotional tell | Frequency: medium
Hesitant.
*2 Crinkles around eyes · Left dimple · Lopsided smile | Facial expression | Frequency: medium
Amused.