Chapter 2 #2
I wasn’t stupid. I knew perfectly well that my fantasy about moving to Canada and writing in my pjs during long snowy winters was probably just that—a fantasy that would have all kinds of drawbacks if I tried it in reality.
But when my sister picked up and left me for the humid furnace of the American South, I finally had a chance to try out the dream that I’d been secretly nurturing for years.
I decided I would rent a place for two months in St. John’s, and I would deal with the reality of living overseas in a windy, foggy city with an active port.
It was probably not going to live up to any Eat, Pray, Love expectations, but this way I’d get them out of my system.
And by the time I realized I hated living alone, far from my friends and favorite bagel spots, Laura would be back in Brooklyn again, because Nick was not going to be able to live up to whatever high expectations she had for him.
I would fly back home as soon as I got her inevitable tearful phone call and she’d run into my arms and tell me how right I had been all along.
“I know,” I’d say in my endless benevolence. “This is why I only signed a short-term lease.”
My plan did not involve making new friends, let alone falling for anyone. The funny thing about improv is, you have to expect the unexpected.
So there I was, the night of the kiss, sitting across from Mark at a thick wooden table in the back of a cozy St. John’s gastropub with a fire in the corner and a glass of wine in front of me. It would have been romantic…unless you know Mark.
Mark is dark. Mark is world-weary. Mark likes to talk about the pointlessness of existence, and more than one of his improvs has turned into an apocalyptic dystopia where zombie bankers are destroying the world.
Mark is also exactly my type. Every guy I’ve had a crush on for the last few years has been like Mark—bitter and funny and a few years older than me.
The problem is that most of them have been married, which hasn’t always stopped them from hitting on me.
Mark at least had the advantage of being divorced.
“Here’s the thing you need to know about Paul,” Mark began. “He is never going to get serious with anyone, romantically.”
“It was just a kiss,” I said.
“And who kissed who?” Mark asked.
I opened my mouth and then settle on a half-shrug.
“He kissed you as much as you kissed him. I think you know that. But it doesn’t matter.”
“You have a whole theory about this, don’t you?”
“I have theories about everything.” Mark grinned at me like a shark. “Do you want to hear how Paul’s marriage ended?”
I hesitated. “Is this a story I should be hearing from Paul?”
“Meaning?”
“I mean, is it private? Would he not want you to tell me this?”
“He hasn’t sworn me to secrecy. But I suspect the version he tells people is not exactly the way it happened, if he’s told you anything at all.” Mark’s words hit me harder than I wanted to admit. I tried to keep my expression neutral.
“I’m not trying to date Paul. So I’m not sure why you think I need to hear this.
” That part was mostly true, but only because I was fairly certain he wasn’t interested.
We had been around each other a lot for the last few weeks.
We were both single. He’d had plenty of time to ask me out, and the fact that he hadn’t told me everything I needed to know. Didn’t it?
“My point is you don’t really know him.”
“Okay.”
“And you really need to hear about his mother.”
“Is this some Freudian thing? Because I think that’s largely been debunked.”
“Paul’s mother runs his life.”
I glanced away, feeling caught out. “He doesn’t talk about her very much.”
“That’s my point. His mother is a mess. Very dramatic, very involved.
Probably has a personality disorder. Anytime something seems to be going right with any woman in Paul’s life, his mother blows it up.
That’s what happened with his wife, you know.
His wife left him for someone else, but they had problems before that because of the mother. ”
“So why doesn’t Paul set some boundaries with her?”
“Guilt, I guess. Paul is all she has.”
I thought of my own mother, who had nearly lost her housing a few times in the five years before she finally passed away. Laura and I had bailed her out with a few thousand dollars here and there until she stopped thanking us for it and started to expect it. “That’s really hard for him.”
“It is hard. I feel for Paul, but my guess is he doesn’t plan on dating anyone seriously until his mother passes away. And that could be years, so I didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”
“Well, my hopes weren’t up, but thanks for the warning. I didn’t…Paul and I aren’t…” I didn’t know what to say, honestly. Mark’s explanation made sense based on Paul’s behavior over the last few weeks.
“So would you want to go out with me sometime?”
I looked up, startled. Mark was smiling again, with a little bit of an edge, his expression daring me to say yes.
“I uh…oh. I don’t know if that’s...” I trailed off.
“I think you’re really something, Abby. And I never think that about anyone.”
I smiled, but my heart was pounding from nerves. “From what Lisette has said, you date a lot.”
“Yeah, but I don’t like any of them.” His feral grin was back.
I looked down. “I think it’s probably good for me to…I’m only here for a few weeks…” I had no good excuse. Part of me wanted to go to bed with Mark just to forget what had happened with Paul. The other part of me knew he was dangerous.
“Fair enough.” Mark took in my uncertainty with a shrug. “You can think about it. The offer stands.”