CHAPTER SEVEN
“You’re doing it again,” Gabe murmured as he drove once again along the highway.
“What?” Ellen replied, her voice quiet and vaguely distracted.
“That thing where you just kinda stare at me with a little smile on your face. I’m not complaining, I’ve just learned by now that it means you’re thinking something specific about me.”
“I am.”
“Anything you care to share?”
She laughed. “Yes. I’m just...basking in this feeling.
It just sort of hit me. I was thinking about how happy Holly seemed, during the brief few moments we got to see her yesterday.
Happy with you, but also happy in general, you know?
And you’re just so good at this. At making us happy.
But it’s more than that. Because it isn’t just happiness.
It’s...security. It’s comfort. It’s feeling special.
And then I was thinking about how I used to feel about that. ”
“I’m guessing it wasn’t good.”
“No, pretty much the opposite. Anytime I found myself coming across some movie or book or just randos in a restaurant being nice to each other, you know, a couple being a couple, I’d often find myself getting pissed.
There was this ache. And there was this part of me that always asked ‘why can’t I have that?
’, and then I’d crush it and internally roll my eyes at the needy little princess my inner self apparently still was, and remind myself that this is just how relationships are.
And...I was wrong! I’m so glad I was wrong.
In the right relationship, you can basically get everything you want, and you don’t really have to compromise. ”
“You don’t think that’s a little over-exaggerating?” he replied.
“Okay, it is, I’ll admit. But in the right relationship, compromises don’t really feel like compromises.
Before...it often felt like my partner was, fuck, I dunno, getting one over on me somehow?
Whenever I gave in on something. Like they were happy I was doing something I didn’t want to do, they were happy I was annoyed or sad or pissed.
And now that I’ve had my eyes opened and I look back on it, it’s because they fucking were. ”
“Jeez. Sorry.”
“So am I, but whatever, it’s in the past. I thought that was just normal, you know?
I thought that was just how it was. And I found myself doing the same damn thing after long enough.
Power games. That’s what it always fucking seems to come down to, petty fucking power tripping.
And I don’t have to deal with that anymore.
Because you are so good at this relationship stuff.
To be honest, I have no fucking idea how you do it. ”
“I...kinda don’t either? I mean, yeah, I’m making choices, but to be honest, I do mostly feel like I’m playing this on easy mode, as compared to how I imagined a relationship like this would actually go in the real world.
And I’m still kinda anxious about that. That I’m going to lose my footing and go crashing down a hillside, unable to stop myself from falling. ”
“Are you less worried about it now than you were before?”
“Yeah, definitely. I’ve got more confidence now that I know roughly the shape the relationships are all going to take.
Although I’m still waiting for some kind of blowup between you and Chloe or Chloe and Krystal.
Or, God, any of you, really. You three just have more volatile personalities but I could see either of them blowing up about something.
Which is to say nothing of Kim…” He groaned.
She laughed. “You do seem to attract women of the...fiercer variety.”
“Apparently.”
“You heard from her yet?”
“No, not yet. I did offer her the date day.”
“Hopefully she says yes and it goes well and she lets us watch.”
Now he laughed. “That would be the ideal scenario.” He paused.
“Am I really that good at this? Sometimes it feels like I’m just...
doing shit and hoping for the best. And then sometimes it feels like this is all too easy and I’m actually missing something important.
” He paused a moment longer. “I think I just lack something when it comes to confidence. Like, obviously I do, but I mean some part of the mechanism.”
“How so?”
“Well, I think what’s normally supposed to happen is that you study a situation, you assess what to do based on the information you gathered, and if, in your mind, it all makes sense, then you feel confident.
But I don’t really. I do the first two things, and then I do it, but then I still worry.
Because I know I could be wrong, or it could go wrong. ”
“I think that’s called awareness, dear. Well, awareness mixed with a dash of anxiety.
A lot of people…” She hesitated, then sighed.
“A lot of people, I think, just assume shit will work out, you know? Do you know how many motherfuckers would tell me ‘oh, it’ll work out!’, whenever I’d begin listing my very legitimate concerns about having a kid?
Too many. People just fucking do shit and assume it’ll go well and then get mad when you try to explain how it might not go well, and then get even more mad when it doesn’t. ”
Gabe considered that as he kept an eye on the signs. Okay, this upcoming ramp wasn’t the one he wanted, it was the one after that.
“So, what you’re saying is: most confidence is born of ignorance?”
“Yes. Exactly. And it’s not even like these people are necessary stupid. I know smart people that do this.” She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know why it’s so common.”
“I think...it’s because most people are afraid of considering the alternatives of failure, and most people that do consider these alternatives turn into depressed, bitter assholes because then they go the other direction and just assume everything is going to fail no matter what.
I think you have to have a certain level of emotional intelligence to walk the tightrope of admitting that things can and will fail without assuming it’ll always happen. ”
“And that is why I’m so happy with the relationship. You have a lot of emotional intelligence. Honestly, that shit is like a fucking drug now.”
He chuckled. “What? My emotional intelligence?”
“Yes, but also the others’ varying levels of it. It’s so nice to see Chloe admitting that no, not everything is going to be shit forever, or Krystal admitting that yes, her plans do actually have a chance of succeeding. God, that girl was so fucking gloomy.”
“Now that I know more about her, I get why.”
“Why was she, in your mind?”
“Because she has ADHD. She has to. Now that I’ve done some research and I know what to look for, she has the symptoms. It’s why she has little emotional control, why she can’t stay focused on things, even things that she likes.
It’s why she’s suffered from anxiety and depression.
It’s why she talks about getting ‘stuck’, like she just can’t do anything sometimes.
Why she has memory problems. Why she’s so tired all the time.
Why she has that ‘waiting mode’ feeling, where she has something she has to do later in the day, and it puts her mind in lockdown for some reason, and she feels like she can’t do anything else until she gets that other thing out of the way, but she has to wait for it... dammit,” he muttered.
“What? What’s wrong?” she asked.
Gabe sighed and took the exit, rolling smoothly down it and into the eastern edge of the city. “Nothing, just...I promised myself I wasn’t going to talk about mental health stuff or health stuff in general during this stretch.”
“What do you mean?”
He glanced at her as he came to a stoplight, maybe trying to get a measure of her.
“All right, well, it’s obvious that the next big thing in our life is going to be dealing with all the ‘adult’ responsibilities, right?
Therapy, healthcare, dentist, that kind of shit.
I don’t want it to get in the way of enjoying the date day, you know? ”
“Ah. I understand that, Gabe. But I don’t mind talking about this stuff. It’s not putting me in a bad mood. And I’ve been thinking about it a lot, too. I’ve been meaning to talk with you more about it.”
“I figured. And we should, and will, talk about it, but I kind of wanted to stay focused on...better things. Happier things. Responsibility talk stresses everyone out.”
“Okay, that’s a fair point.” She grinned suddenly. “You are going to enjoy today so goddamned much.”
“How do you know? I mean, I will, but what makes you say that?”
“You aren’t the only one who has something special lined up,” Ellen replied.
Gabe glanced at her again, but she said nothing. Just leaned back in the chair, looking pleased with herself.
The light turned green. He kept driving.
Today was going to be interesting, apparently.
…
“Okay, see, this is what I mean,” Ellen said as she stared up through the windshield at the building they’d parked in the shadow of. “When I said you’re so damned good at this. This is perfect! This is actually a place I’ve wanted to go to for years now!”
“I know,” he replied.
She looked over at him. “How’d you know?”
“Because I listen.”
“Did I mention this? When?”
“Last month. We were talking about your painting and got to discussing art-related stuff and you mentioned this place and how you’d always wanted to go. I said we should find some time to go out there someday, and you agreed.”
“Jesus. Maybe I am drinking too much wine,” she murmured. “I...sort of remember that? Shit, you’re definitely better at this than I am.”
“That is not true. I am at least as happy as you are, if not happier.”
“That...is something we have a nearly impossible time measuring, and to be honest, you’re kind of easy to make happy.”
“That I am,” he agreed. “Come on, let’s go look at art.”
They got out and walked up the broad stone steps that led to the glass front doors.
They had come to a place that called itself The Mezzanine.
It was an older place, and yet it seemed oddly futuristic.
But not that retro-futuristic look some places tried to go for.
From the outside, it looked like a large glass-and-steel cube, most of the windows blacked out and opaque from the exterior.
And there were a lot of windows, most of them floor-to-ceiling.
As they stepped inside, coming into an expansive lobby made of sandstone flooring, he felt like he’d stepped into another world. Something vaguely cyberpunkish. There was music playing faintly that he could tell Ellen was listening to.
“Oh man, this is fucking nineties trip-hop,” she whispered. “This shit is amazing. I completely forgot this was a thing. I’m so downloading a bunch of albums when we get home.” She paused. “Well, when we get home and I’ve got a minute.”
“Yeah, when you’re not busy taking my dick,” he murmured.
“Gabe!” she hissed, blushing and looking around.
He laughed. “There’s no one around, dearest.”
“Oh my God, come on,” she growled.
Gabe briefly considered pushing her a little further, then decided against it.
Adjusting his ‘fucking around’ meter was usually an easy thing to do, but sometimes it required quite a bit of nuance.
Ellen enjoyed being fucked with...up to a certain point.
Also, only under some conditions. And visiting her favorite art gallery was not one of them.
So he followed her over to the desk, where he wrote their names on a sign-in paper and donated a hundred dollars. Then she took him deeper into the building.
It really was a strange but awesome place.
It almost seemed like something out of some kind of sci-fi exhibit or maybe off a movie set, yet fell just short of being ridiculous.
Everything was so sleek and smooth, so clean and crisp, the angles of the walls and ceiling subtly crafted to draw the eye in bizarre directions.
And they hadn’t even seen the actual art yet.
They came to a broad corridor with several large openings in the walls, leading into the rooms where they actually displayed the art.
As they started looking at it, he flashed back to the time he and Abby had come to one such place.
It occurred to him that he needed to do more research on art galleries within driving distance, and prepare dates to take Ellen on.
And probably Abby.
...maybe.
He was still a little shaky on how their relationship should be treated.
“This is...very weird,” Ellen muttered.
Gabe was still staring at the first painting. He moved over and joined her. “Oh. Wow. Yeah.”
The painting depicted an ocean of some black, oily substance, set beneath a deep red sky, lorded over by a bloated, sickly yellow sun.
A single hand was reaching up, desperately, out of the substance and was outlined by the sun.
In the distance, he saw islands. And on the islands he saw small, disturbing shapes.
“What the fuck,” he whispered.
“Yeah, this is crazy creepy. Like a vision of Hell or something. Jesus, let’s move on.” They walked over to the next painting. “Much nicer,” she murmured.
This one was of a family of deer prancing through a forest in summer. Golden shafts of sunlight slanted down through the canopy, seeming to cascade through the environment.
After another moment of studying it, they moved on.