Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
“I’ll have a Delta’s Signature cooked medium with Swiss cheese, loaded fries, and a chocolate shake, please.” The diner was a frequent stop on the way home when I didn’t feel like cooking. Though my idea of cooking was reheating takeout leftovers or popping a frozen dinner into the microwave.
Trey ordered as I stuffed my menu back into the small holder at the back of the table.
“A Black & Blue with fries and I’ll stick with the water, thanks.”
“You’ve got it,” said our waitress—Maureen based on the name tag. “I’ll put this in and bring the shake out in a few.”
“Sounds good.” As she walked away, I pulled out my copy of Leo’s stage drawing. “You really think they can make this happen?”
“Ethan thinks so. A version of it, anyway. ” Trey pulled a pen from his shirt pocket. “I suggest we take it down from three backdrops to two since, like you said, we’re low on time to get it done.” He drew a line down the center, “If we split the backdrop in half, each side will turn independently of the other, making it lighter and less cumbersome to move.”
Sounded like a good idea to me. Though that brought on the potential for trouble. “We’ll have to make sure we don’t end up with the right side of one background and the left side of the other.”
“I’ll be there to ensure the boys get it right.”
He planned on being backstage the whole time? “You don’t have to do that.”
With a shrug, he dropped the pen back into his pocket. “I’m in now. Unless you feel like I’m stepping too far into your territory.”
It wasn’t as if I’d peed a circle around the auditorium. “Doing this takes a lot of time. Don’t you have other things to do?”
Elbows on the table, he shook his head. “No. I get stir crazy between seasons and baseball won’t start until the spring.”
“What does baseball have to do with being the football coach?”
“I’m an assistant coach for baseball.”
Maureen returned with my milkshake and I whipped a reusable straw out of my purse. A second later, I paused for the brain freeze.
“You good?” Trey asked with a laugh.
Squinting my eyes, I nodded. “Totally worth it.”
We came here to discuss the stage set, but that conversation was over and we didn’t even have our food yet? What now? I should tell him about the plane tickets.
“You said one of your siblings is in Washington state, right?”
“Yeah, my sister. Dana’s husband Fin took a job in Seattle about five years ago.” He toyed with the straw the waitress left for his water but didn’t open it. “I miss seeing my niece and nephew, but they love it out there.”
“So you’re an uncle?”
“I am. Dana’s two are six and four. Regina, the four-year-old, could charm the paint off a wall.” Much like her uncle, then. “My brother David is in Texas. He and Loretta have a two-year-old named Avery. I met her in the spring and she’s the spitting image of our mom.”
Sounded like a lovely family, but again I couldn’t imagine having my loved ones so far away.
“I asked about Washington because I saw an ad for discounts on plane tickets to Seattle. Made me think of you and that you might be looking to head that way for the holidays.”
His eyes dropped to the straw. “Probably not.”
Too curious to turn back now, I asked, “Will they come here?”
A deep sigh left his body. “Mom died on Christmas Eve. We haven’t celebrated the holiday since.”
Now I felt bad for prying. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“You didn’t know.”
We fell into an awkward silence saved only by the arriving waitress. The burgers hit the table and I put all of my focus into dousing my fries in ketchup.
“What about you?” Trey said as Maureen left us with our food. “You have a big family, right?”
Becca must have been talking again. “Yeah, I’m the middle of five kids. All my siblings have kids, so family gatherings are really crowded.”
“I bet the holidays are great.”
Christmas was the one time of year when my cynical side took a back seat to silly Aunt Lindsey. For a few days a year I was ready to dance, tickle, draw, and sneak baked goods whenever possible. The kids loved me for it, and their parents never let me hear the end of sending them home hyped up on sugar.
“It’s my favorite time of year. Probably because it was my Babka Maja’s favorite time. She baked for at least ten days straight every December, and despite my complete lack of any food-related skills, she still let me help.”
Trey squeezed a reasonably-sized dollop of ketchup onto the side of his plate, and then dipped the end of a fry. “Did she teach you how to cook?”
I snorted. “Heck, no. I can’t cook to save my life.” Venturing into dangerous territory, I added, “One of the many reasons I’m not wife material.”
He took a bite of his fry and dipped again. “Cooking isn’t required to be a wife.”
“Based on my experience, that is not a widely held opinion.” If I had a dime for every guy who told me I needed to learn how to cook, I could pay for this meal in change alone and still have coins left over.
Picking up his burger, he shook his head. “I’m not big on stereotypes. Everyone brings something different to the table.”
“Not everyone,” I mumbled, licking salt off my fingers. “With me you get an empty table.”
“That’s bull. Making food isn’t the only way to show that you care about people.”
To think I once said he sucked at arguing. “I’m not sure what delusions you have about me, but let me clear them up now. I don’t like people, I don’t cook, and I don’t clean. I suck at small talk, which you’ve probably figured out by now, and I’m stubborn to a fault.”
“Everyone has their quirks.”
“I’m also extremely independent, selfish, and impatient.”
Wiping his hands on his napkin, he said, “Are you done?”
I could go on, but this was enough for now. “Yes.”
“Good.” Trey returned the napkin to his lap. “Here’s my rebuttal. You have four friends who would fight to the ends of the earth for you. That tells me you’re a good person whether you’re willing to admit it or not. You’re staunchly protective of both your students and your friends, and probably of your family. What you lack in domestic skills—and I’m only taking your word for that—you make up for in intelligence, wit, and brutal honesty.”
Since when was brutal honesty a positive attribute?
“Though you’re quick to judgment,” he continued, “you also have no problem changing your view when presented with new information. Proof in point, you’re here with me right now, which wouldn’t have happened the first day we met.”
I paused before taking a bite of my burger. “You should forget about drama and go moderate the debate team.”
“Nah, I hate research.” Reaching for his water glass, he said, “You know not every guy is looking for a wife, right?”
An interesting suggestion. “I guess there could be men who are content alone.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“If you mean some are looking for husbands, then yes, I know gay men exist.”
“That’s not what I meant either. Though good point. What I’m saying is that companionship can be enough without the legal commitment.”
This was starting to sound very new age-y. “Like eternally dating?” What a horrible thought.
“Let me give an example. After Dad left, we struggled a lot because everything was in his name. Mom trusted him to take care of us, and when he left, she had nothing. Her name wasn’t on any of the accounts or even on the lease of the little house we rented.”
“Your dad was a serious piece of crap.”
“That’s probably the nicest way to put it,” he agreed. “Five years later Mom met Howard. He was as solid as they come, and fell head over heels on their first date. But she couldn’t get over what Dad did and made it clear she’d never get married again.”
“That must have broken Howard’s heart,” I said, emotionally invested in the story.
“Nope.” Trey shoved a piece of cheese back into his burger, then wiped his fingers on his napkin. I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t like his hands or his mouth being messy. “Howard and Mom had almost twenty-five good years together until she passed away.”
“But they never married?”
“Never married.”
Quite the open-minded idea. And yet, a relationship was still a relationship, with all of the expectations and compromises required regardless of whether or not a marriage license was involved. My issue wasn’t so much with commitment as with letting another person that far into my life.
I simply wasn’t an easy person to tolerate, and I hated the idea of bending myself to be something I wasn’t. Nor did I have the patience to tolerate someone else constantly in my space. Still, this was a new point of view I’d never considered.
“How did they trust that the other person wouldn’t walk away? Especially your mom.”
He looked up in contemplation. “I guess that was the point. She knew if he did walk away, nothing in our lives would change. She had her own money, her own place, her own accounts. They were together because they wanted to be, not because they had to be. From the beginning, Howard understood her boundaries and respected them. Now that I think about it, that’s probably a big part of why they worked.”
Twenty-five years of knowing someone was by your side for no other reason than that they wanted to be there. That they chose you even knowing there was always an out. Now that was commitment.
“Do you feel the same way Howard did? That just being together is enough?”
“The honest answer is that I’m not sure. I haven’t found anyone to test the theory with yet.”
“Wait a minute.” I did the math from what few facts he’d shared. “Aren’t you pushing forty?”
“You don’t have to put it that way,” he said, licking blue cheese off his finger. “I turned thirty-seven at the end of April.”
Huh. “You’re the same age as my brother, Joe. I wouldn’t have guessed you were that old.”
“Can you stop making me sound like I’m ready for a walker?”
“It’s just that my brother is old mentally . He’s a boomer trapped in a millennial body. So in thirty-seven years you’ve never found someone you wanted to hitch up with?”
He laughed. “I wasn’t exactly looking for dates from the crib. I’ve had a couple serious relationships, but no urge to hitch up, as you put it.”
“How are we doing over here?” Maureen asked, approaching the table.
“I could use more water,” Trey said. “And some extra napkins, please.”
“Sure thing. And you ma’am?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
The waitress walked away and Trey said, “How about you? No one’s ever tempted you out of this no dating stance?”
Someone was making me think about it, but I wouldn’t be admitting that right now.
“I dated in college, but only for fun. There were a few short-lived romances in my twenties, and that was enough for me.” In truth, I’d never been enough for them , and they’d taken great pains to tell me so. “I’m not good at it.”
“There’s a cure for not being good at something.”
This should be interesting. “What’s that?”
“Practice.”
I walked right into that one. “Dating isn’t a sport.”
“Practice isn’t only for sports.” He dipped a fry in the ketchup. “You practice playing an instrument or painting or dancing. Take the play, for example. Weeks of practice go into that.”
This man was either overly rational or the milkshake brain freeze had done real damage, because I could not think of an argument for the lunacy he was suggesting.
“I’m not saying I agree with you, but out of curiosity, how would a person practice dating?”
He popped the whole fry into his mouth and I took great satisfaction in knowing he was stalling. Mr. Smarty Pants hadn’t thought this through.
“First, you’d have to pick someone to practice with .” Was he going to volunteer for that position? “Then you’d have to set some ground rules.”
“Ground rules?”
“The other person has to know you’re only practicing. Otherwise feelings get involved, and then there’s the potential for someone to get hurt.”
How… “You can’t date without feelings getting involved. That’s the whole point.”
“Eventually,” he conceded, “but first you have to practice being around another person. Let them into your space and you step into theirs. See how that feels.”
He was already too far inside my head. Letting him into my living room would be far too dangerous. “That’s hanging out, not dating.”
“If you think about it, dating is really just hanging out.” He rested his elbows on the table. “It’s just limiting the hang-outs to two people.”
The man had an answer for everything. “Now you’re playing semantics.” I stuffed the last bite of my burger into my mouth as Maureen returned with Trey’s water and napkins.
“Here you go.” She set down the napkins while filling his glass from a pitcher. “Are we saving room for dessert?”
Trey said, “Not for me, thanks.”
“I’ll have the chocolate sundae, please.”
“You’ve got it.”
Maureen walked off with her pitcher and Trey stared at me as if I’d grown a third eye. “What?”
“A sundae on top of a milkshake?”
So I liked my sweets. “That sounds very judgy.”
“I’m not judging. I’m concerned about your arteries. Not to mention all that sugar keeping you up all night.”
No need to be concerned on that front. “I don’t sleep much anyway.”
Burger halfway to his mouth, he paused. “Why not?”
Good question. If I knew the answer, I’d be sleeping more. “No idea. I can nap, but when it’s time to sleep for the night my brain kicks in and it’s a losing battle. Once I do fall out, I wake up over and over until the alarm goes off and I drag myself out of bed.”
Trey wiped his mouth as he leaned back. “No wonder you’re so cranky.”
“I’ve always been cranky. Lack of sleep has nothing to do with it.” Reaching for my shake, I added, “I suppose you’re an eight hour a night person who leaps out of bed full of energy in the morning.”
“I am,” he said, beaming with pride. The psychopath. “That’s what regular exercise does for you.”
He could stuff his regular exercise where the sun didn’t shine. “I’d rather sit and read a book any day.”
“Does reading help you sleep?”
I thought of all the nights I’d read until dawn. “Not at all.”
“Then I think we’ve found your problem.”
“Reading is never a problem.”
“Reading when you should be sleeping is.”
How did he…? “I never said I read during the night.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Maureen arrived with my sundae and I had to admit, I probably should have skipped it. “Is there a way to get that to go?”
“I can put it in a box, but I’m not sure how long it’ll last before you get it into a freezer.”
“My apartment isn’t far from here so it should be fine.”
Maureen nodded. “Then I’ll pack it right up.”
Trey pushed his plate away. “You live close to here?”
“You mean you haven’t weaseled my address out of Becca yet?”
The chuckle was deep and genuine. “I’m not a stalker.”
“True. I see you more often than I’d see a stalker.”
“We work across the hall from each other,” he reminded me. “And you have to admit, I’m growing on you.”
That phrase kept coming up. I was getting used to having him around, and the urge to run anytime our paths crossed had subsided. Then there were all the times he crept into my head when he wasn’t around, and that urge over the weekend to call and tell him things. I’d been my normal, curmudgeon self and still, here he was, smiling and as affable as ever.
“We’re total opposites, you know.”
Trey smiled. “Think of it more like we complement each other.”
“You’ll never be able to tolerate me for long.”
Knowing what buttons to push already, he said, “Then you’ll get to say I told you so. But I think you’re wrong.”
Was this how all great relationships started? With warnings and contradictions?
“I have no plans of ever marrying,” I said, wanting to be extremely clear. “I’m not going to change my mind on that.”
With a slow nod, he said, “Heard.”
Having him watch me like that—like I was the eighth wonder of the world and a giant protein shake rolled into one—I didn’t know what to do with myself. Thankfully, Maureen returned with my packed up dessert.
“I need to get this home,” I said the moment the box hit the table.
“We’ll take the check, please,” he said, never taking his eyes off mine.
“You can pay at the counter,” Maureen replied. “I’ll meet you up there.”
Trey tilted his head to the left. “After you.”
Suddenly self-conscious, I nodded, grabbed my purse and exited the booth. As he followed me to the front counter, I could almost feel the happiness radiating off of him. One patron even called out a hello and congrats on the successful football season.
I kept walking, realizing that we were once again being seen in public, and I could only imagine how quickly the news would race through the grapevine. The idea of being the center of gossip still bothered me, but there were no rules about teachers fraternizing outside of work hours. Trey and I weren’t doing anything wrong. We were just… hanging out.
Semantics could sometimes work in your favor.