Chapter 21 – “An Arrow in the Wall” — Death Cab For Cutie #2
“Well, long story short, this guy went into the sheriff’s office with a friend.
He’s reluctant, but the friend insisted, saying he was being scammed.
Turns out he’s been spending a couple of grand on her a month ‘spoiling her’ and ‘helping her,’ calling her his girlfriend, helping her pay for her ‘tuition and books,’” he says, with finger quotes.
“And, of course, making plans to visit.”
I know he doesn’t mean to poke at me, but he knows Kait and I have never met and have been talking about meeting. I say nothing and watch while he polishes off the food that is no longer appealing.
The server takes my dessert order, but Lachlan declines. If ever there was a time to self-medicate with carbs, it’s now, but I’ve lost my appetite. I order one for now and one to take home. He won’t order one for himself, but he’ll eat mine if I don’t.
“Anyway, every time they plan to meet up, something happens to get in the way, but she says I love you, you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, life without you is meaningless, and makes excuses, and they set a new date to meet.”
“And it never happens?” I ask. “She keeps stringing him along?”
“Well, you and I both know it’s never going to happen, but this guy sees the best in people and goes along with it.”
I have sympathy for the guy, but that’s where the parallels end.
Kait and I are completely different. She has repeatedly demonstrated caring far beyond the requirements of her job.
The gifts, the playing with my playlists, and funny emails?
That’s all a free bonus, and even on my most rational days, I can’t help but think she might feel something more than fondness.
For me, well, I can’t get enough of her happiness, and the thought that she sleeps on sheets I sent her does something to me that I can’t explain, but I love it.
I’ll take anything she’s offering. Anything.
“Long story short, the woman he’s talking to has an arrest record for fraud a mile long.
The guy is heartbroken. He thought he had met the love of his life and alternates between being sad and not believing a thing law enforcement says, because ‘his girl’ is smart and sexy and says all the right things. ”
“I can’t imagine how hard that must be for him.” I can. I can imagine. I have imagined.
“I guess the sheriff’s office gets calls like this all the time, but the old folks are the worst, having their retirement savings wiped out by scammers.”
“That’s awful,” I say, trying to hide my discomfort.
He may think there are parallels, but Kait is wonderful, and I can’t get enough of her.
I miss her when she’s busy doing other things I prefer not to think about, and something as simple as a text from her has the ability to light up my world.
I adore her. And I’m fully aware that the ball is in her court, but this tiny, absurdly hopeful part of me wants to think that meeting her isn’t out of the realm of possibility.
“And it’s not like this guy is an idiot,” Lachlan says, and I wonder if he’s seeing me in this poor man who’s been duped.
I’m savvier than that. “He’s lonely, not stupid.
He wants someone to talk to. He’s got a good job with some disposable income.
I think the saddest part, from what Pete had to say about the whole thing, is that there was a woman this guy was interested in but ultimately decided not to date because it would have been like cheating. Cheating on his catfish.”
The groan that comes out of me is both miserable and heartfelt. I have unexplored depths of empathy on this topic. I’m a veritable well of it.
“He only went in to talk to Sheriff Pete because his friends got suspicious that he was being scammed. They wanted him to go out with the nice lady who was real and couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t until they told him about Ms. Catfish.”
“Poor guy. That’s awful.” It is. I’d be devastated if something like that happened to me. It’s a good thing Kait is trustworthy.
An image of Helena flits through my mind, bold and confident, offering up a fun time in Dublin. Unlike Julian and his one-time-only rule, one-night stands aren’t my jam. And it would have been like cheating on Kait. Maybe I am delusional, but I’m happy, mostly.
On the downside, I’m spending three grand—four, minimum—every month, not including presents and gift cards. My accountant continues to inquire if he can write the charges off. That isn’t humiliating at all.
It’s not the expense that kills me. It’s how easily I justify it.
But I sleep like a baby. And I’ll likely continue to do so for the foreseeable future. Until she leaves for grad school and disappears one day without so much as a fair thee freaking well.
“What about you?” Lachlan inquires. “Do you and your mystery girl have plans to meet?”
“You know, it’s not serious, just… chatting,” I say, nausea ripping through me. It was a year on April first. A year of talking to Kait. A year of sleep. A year of… something. “Maybe soon.”
We have something. Something special. My sleep is great these days, but when I find myself staring at the ceiling at 3:00 a.m., it’s because I’m thinking about Kait going to grad school and us drifting apart. I adore her. I want more. I want everything she is willing to give.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Take my money. I can survive that. It’s my heart I can’t live without.
I get grumpy if I go more than twenty-four hours without talking to her, and if there is such a thing as Kait addiction, I have it.
Falling in love isn’t exactly in my wheelhouse; I’ve always felt deficient in that area.
But with Kait in my life? Anything is possible.
“ShaSha says you’ve finally found a decent human being and that she liked her. She’s the last person to say something nice about anyone you’ve ever dated, so that was a refreshing treat.”
I dash that thought away with a wave of my hand. “They spoke on the phone for a minute,” I say, making it clear that it wasn’t a real meeting. “I made the mistake of having a conversation with Saoirse nearby, and they spoke, had a great time ganging up on me, giving me a hard time.”
“Saoirse said she’s great, and you know how she is. She thinks everyone is suspect. I tend to trust her judgment.”
“It sounds like everyone should be suspect, given your seminar today,” I say. Deflecting. “But to be fair, Kait is highly likable.” It’s true, she’s adorable in all the best ways. Funny, silly, charming, delightful… the list goes on and on. “I’m just not sure that I’m a relationship kind of guy.”
“You’re a Sterling,” Lachlan says, as though that explains everything.
“Being part of a couple is deeply encoded in our DNA. Haven’t you been paying attention?
It’s the family blessing and curse.” He rolls his eyes and continues.
“You find someone, use the magic words and say ‘let me love you,’ and bam, you’re stuck with them for life, never to be free of them expecting a frigging parade because they managed to clean their own toothpaste out of the bathroom sink or start the dishwasher. ”
He laughs, amused at his own joke. He continues with a big, stupid, dopey smile.
“No, seriously, pick wisely. I’m stuck with someone who steals my clothes, is unshakeable in their security about our relationship, even when I’m melting down, steals covers in the dead of winter, and puts dirty coffee mugs in the sink when the perfectly empty dishwasher is ready for all the dirty things. It’s pretty miserable being me.”
He says it, but I’ve never known anyone who could claim to be happier or more in love than Lachlan. He’s gone.
“And god forbid I skip a meal. The latest thing is keeping the Halloween candy bowl out and filled year-round so I don’t get hangry. Like Snickers therapy or something.”
I can’t help but laugh as he grumbles.
My brother is madly, deeply in love.
He’s got a terrible, chronic case of what Kait refers to as Princess Bride–level true love.
And for the first time, I’m deeply envious, despite the fact that Lachlan’s been certain like this as long as I can remember.
Why didn’t I find my soulmate—not that I think such a thing exists—in my crib like he did?
They literally grew up together, climbing over the backyard fence to play together.
“And I don’t get hangry,” he finishes in a tone that suggests he actually believes that line of absolute hogwash.
I don’t remind him he’s been voted “Sterling most likely to be a hangry asshat” five years running. When he’s around, I order extra and encourage him to snitch food from my plate. It’s self-preservation.
A message from Kait arrives two minutes later.
The ringtone is all wrong. It’s not The Verve.
It sounds like—dear god, I have no idea what it sounds like.
I check my phone. Spotify says it’s William Shatner of Star Trek fame doing a cover of “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds,” and I can’t help but laugh.
I love the effort she must have put into this prank with her “future bestie Julian.”
Kaity Babes: Call me when you have time. Miss you. Heart emoji x a bajillion.
I can’t resist. I smile. The stress of the conversation with Lachlan drains out of my neck and shoulders. There’s no scamming here. I’ll pay for that text at the end of the month. It’s a transaction, but it’s also so much more.
I text back a thumbs-up and send her a song from Spotify. “It’s a Small World,” the Disney ride earworm that tries to destroy your soul. I’m ruthless like that.
There is no us, but I truly believe there can be. Will be?
She cares. That much is true. We are friends, but I’d love a shot at something more. Something wonderful.