Twelve Months of Awkward Moments

by Lisa Acerbo

“Don’t think about it that way. A little work now will save you from a whole lot of work and pain later.”

  We spend the rest of the hour coming up with a reasonable plan. I’ll do a little work each day trying to get my dad some help, and hopefully this will keep him from falling down the rabbit hole and me from having to go after him. As for Tanya and my stalker, I’ll keep waiting and praying it’s all a big mistake.

  Chapter 8

  March 12

  Throw away expectations. You can never guess what life will send your way. All you know is that it will come.

  * * * *

  I’m at work, distracted by my phone. I’ve ignored the last two texts from Bogden about getting coffee, but I’m going to see him soon. I’ve decided I’m mature enough to be real friends with him, not fake friends like we have been for a while, but I’m delaying actually meeting.

  I’m responding to a text from Kyle when a young, perky blonde stops in front of the desk, shifting from foot to foot. She’s everything I’m not: fit, sporty, strikingly beautiful even in athletic gear and her hair in a messy high ponytail.

  “Can I help you?” I ask.

  “I’m here to see Brice.” She stares at me like I should realize that.

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  Her laugh comes out sounding like wind chimes. “No, I’m just dropping something off he forgot this morning.”

  “Excuse me?” I must have heard wrong.

  She’s starting to get exasperated with me. “He left some contracts he has to sign for the wedding at the house. He asked me to bring them down.”

  “Right.” I’m totally confused, but my mind goes to the most logical explanation. He’s the best man for someone’s wedding. Maybe this is the soon-to-be bride of his best friend. “I’ll get him.”

  I ask the other receptionist to cover the desk. Brice has a client, so I knock on the door and wait. It takes forever for him to open it.

  “What’s up?”

  “There’s a woman here who has some contracts you forgot.” I try and keep my voice from rising.

  “Shit. She was supposed to call me from the garage so I could come get them.”

  The words just slip out of my mouth. “Who is she?”

  He runs a hand through his blonde hair and makes a face like the gesture hurts him. “She’s my fiancée.”

  “What?” I’m nauseous.

  “I can explain. There’s so much I need to tell you, but we can’t talk now. Meet me after your work shift.”

  I study him, and Brice appears totally different. I notice the sweat marks under his arms and how his hair is beginning to thin. His worried eyes reflect unease, and for the first time, I notice the wrinkles in the corner.

  “I’m taking the rest of the day off,” I say. “I’m feeling ill.” I march out without a backward glance.

  The next day, I hand in my two-week notice.

  I’m not invited to the wedding.

  I cry a lot after that day, except for at work. There, I’m stoic. I’m a stone wall. Outside of work, I cry in my classes, outside my classes, in the shower, and especially alone in my bed.

  Tanya hears me in my room one night even though I have the television on extra loud. I’m stretched out on my stomach across the bed in black yoga pants and an old pre-vet club T-shirt, my hair limp and tangled.

  Tanya knocks, but doesn’t wait for my reply. She dressed up in a black leather mini skirt with patterned tights under it and a sheer sweater that reveals her bralette. She’s holding a can of chocolate icing and two spoons.

  “I was heading out, but this is more important.” She sits on the side of my bed.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  “You and…” Her arms flap. “…this thing you are dealing with. He was an asshole and a jerk, but get over it.”

  This advice starts a whole new cycle of tears.

  “Shit.” Tanya stares at me and then around my messy room. “Holy shit. It’s not neat in here. You are always neat. We’re in some serious trouble.”

  I peer at the debris as if I’m seeing my room for the first time. Dirty clothes litter the floor and granola bar wrappers sit on my desk, but it’s not that bad. Well, it’s not that bad if you discount the leftover Chinese food on a plate by the door and the dirty tissues that have taken over like rabbits in heat. Okay, it’s bad. The sight of my unkempt, disorganized room makes the tears run down my cheeks like race cars.

  “I don’t know what to do.” I sob.

  Tanya hands me a fresh tissue and then opens the can of icing. She hands me a spoon. “Eat. I’m cleaning for you.”

  She disposes of the tissues, picks up the dirty clothes and puts them in a pile to be washed. She removes the wrappers and leftover food, taking them downstairs to the kitchen. When she rejoins me, the bedroom is not perfect, but in much better shape.

  I relax a little. Just a little.

  “What can I do to make you better?” Tanya asks.

  “Can we get a pet?”

  “We have Snuggles.” Amusement lights up her face over our mean cat.

  “But she’s evil. I want a rodent for our apartment.”

  Tanya stares at me for a moment. “A rodent? Like a hamster?”

  “Or like a rat we’ve been studying in class.”

  “Or a guinea pig or rabbit,” Tanya says.

  “Yes, I want one. I need another pet in my life.”

  “I’ll crawl around on all fours and make weird noises, and you can feed me if that’ll help.” Tanya demonstrates on the floor.

  She’s so ridiculous, I cannot help but laugh. “That’ll probably work.”

  “Did you tell your mom yet?” Tanya asks before she sits on the bed again and sticks her spoon in the can of icing.

  “No. She’ll freak. I’m never telling her about Brice. She’s going to want to know the reason I quit my job. I have to figure out what story I can make up.”

  “Tell her talking to all those people made you anxious.”

  “That’s true.” I wipe a tear off my cheek with a clean tissue and take some deep breaths. “But I also kind of liked it. Some of the old people were nice even if they complained a lot.”

  “Don’t worry about it too much. You’ll find something else soon.” As always, her perky attitude makes mine feel hopeless and dark.

  “It took me so long to find that job. I don’t really want to start the process again. Plus, it’s our last semester of school. I have to do well to graduate with honors.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that.” It come out muffled because of all the icing in Tanya’s mouth.

  I put my head on Tanya’s shoulder, holding the can of icing for her. “What do I do? I’m so miserable.”

  “Been there and done that. Men are jerks,” Tanya says, her red hair bouncing in confirmation.

  “More than jerks.” I sound peevish but don’t care.

  “Penis heads?” she asks innocently.

  “That’s better.” I take a big spoonful of icing.

  “You know my philosophy. Easy come, easy go. There are a lot of available, sexually potent men out there who can give you a good time. You can find them at any bar and use them to get off.”

  “Please stop.” I eat some icing as I digest her comment.

  “But seriously. He’s easy to replace. Just do it.” My head bounces against her she shrugs her shoulders.

  “I’m not like you,” I say. “I can’t just go from boyfriend to boyfriend.”

  “You should try it.”

  “I can’t.” A tear slips out. I put my hand up to wipe it away.

  “Try it.” She emphasizes each word as if saying it stronger will get me to buy into her philosophy on men.

  “Maybe.”

  “We’re hanging out tomorrow.” Her tone implies that saying no is not an option.

  I try anyway. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

  Tanya gives me a once-over. “You’re definitely ready.”
<
br />   And that’s how I end up at a party the next night, slinging back shots of Fireball with Tanya. I attempt to appear human, straightening my hair, putting on skinny jeans, and a red shirt to match my lipstick. I’m on my third shot when Kyle enters across the room with some of his engineering friends. I call to him, but it’s crowded and loud. He doesn’t hear.

  I plan to see him later.

  Right now, I’m playing a game. “You’re in my spot.” My knee is on the floor.

  “Excuse me? This is Twister.” A drunk guy, also playing the game, pretzels his body so he can see my face and gives me a perplexed stare. “You can’t save a spot in the game. It just depends on the spin.”

  “But your left hand is on the green spot I want.” Maybe it’s the Fireball, or maybe it’s the fact green is my favorite color. I’m not backing down. “I can’t stretch any farther to the next green spot.” I hold up my free hand and wiggle my fingers close to his face. “Look at these scrawny fingers, this little arm. It only goes so far. It really wants the green spot.” My other hand goes numb from the weight of my corkscrewed legs. I can’t hold myself up on one hand much longer.

  The boy sways in an awkward squat, arms making an X in front of him. “I can’t lose now,” he says. “I’ll lose the game.”

  “But it’s only Twister.” I attempt a flirty smile. My legs tremble from the strain.

  “You realize what we’re playing for, right?” he asked, smirking at the guy spinning. “You have to know what happens to the loser?”

  “No. What?” The words slip out of my mouth before I fall, backside sliding roughly to the floor.

  The guy with the spinner laughs loudly as I crash. “Sucker,” he sings out.

  I study him and the boy next to me on the mat. Why can’t I remember what we’re playing for? How many drinks have I had?

  “It’s time,” Spinner guy says.

  “Time for what?” I ask as I wobble upward.

  “Time for you to get some air,” a new voice says into my ear.

  “Kyle!” I give him an enthusiastic hug. “Where have you been?”

  His eyes register confusion. “I’ve been here all along.”

  “Good for you. Fun night, huh?” I pat him on the chest.

  “Time to go.” He pulls me away from the game. We go sit at a picnic table in the backyard. It’s quiet, and the breeze tickles my warm skin.

  “I love you, Kyle,” I say.

  “I love you, too, Dani.”

  “You’re my bestest friend ever.”

  “Good good.” He’s smiling at me like he always does.

  Things might just turn out fine.

  “Promise me we’ll be friends forever.”

  “I’ll never do anything to ruin it.” His brow furrows, accentuating his widow’s peak. He’s being serious.

  “Good good.” I echo his words. I want to say more, but my mind is not really working at full capacity.

  “You said it.” His hand is gentle on mine. “You ready to go?”

  “I have to go find Tanya first and let her know I’m leaving with you.”

  He nods as I stand, searching the crowd. It takes longer than expected as I weave through layers of people staggered like forest trees. When I find Tanya, she drags me into a conversation with some of the other animal science students. We all laugh about Professor Johnson and what a D-bag he is, and we strategize a letter-writing committee to inform the school about him. I’m sober enough to realize it will probably never happen, but I wish it would. I might even decide to take charge of it.

  When I leave the group to find Kyle, I wade back through the waves of people. I’m careful to avoid making any possible contact with them. I tap him on the back. He pivots awkwardly to me, and it’s obvious he’s had a few drinks while I’ve been away.

  “Dani!” It comes out too loud, and his friends stare.

  The blush builds in my cheeks. “Hey. I tried to get your attention from over there, but you ignored me.”

  “I’d never ignore you.” He paws at me. “You’re my bestie. Remember?”

  “I remember.” I can’t help but smile as I push his hand down. “How many drinks have you had since I left you?”

  “Enough to know we should get out of here and go cuddle.” He draws me in close for a hug.

  “What?” I laugh at his antics.

  He grabs my hand and starts to drag me out of the party. I follow. Kyle is always a better option than the loud music, cacophony of voices, and strange bodies in close proximity.

  We stroll along campus. It’s chilly but not unbearable. The cold gives me a reason to scoot close to Kyle. He puts his arm around me and draws me close. His heat and comfort feel good, and I relax into him.

  I tell him about Tanya’s intervention plan to cure my broken heart.

  “You’re looking for a one-night stand,” he concludes.

  “No,” I say. “Tanya wants me to find a one-night stand. I’m not sure I agree with her treatment plan.”

  “I volunteer my services,” Kyle says.

  We are at the CCSC rock. It’s been painted with a fraternity symbol in bright yellow and red.

  I lean against it. “What makes you think you’re qualified?”

  “How long have you known me?” He stares me down, blue eyes vivid even under the dim light leaking out from the tall steel streetlight.

  “Long enough,” I say.

  “Then you recognize all my best qualities,” Kyle says.

  “And your worst.” I can’t help the snort that escapes.

  “I promise you will enjoy yourself.” He is smug.

  “That’s a mighty big promise.”

  “Yes.” There’s a smile on Kyle’s face. “I promise you it’s huge.”

  Kyle angles me against the rock, and I let him. He kisses me, tasting of alcohol. He presses against me, the rock digging into my back, and a bulge against my leg. He was not lying. His hand touches the back of my neck, and he pulls me into him, his kisses forceful.

  My hands graze his side and then his back. We kiss until my lips are chapped. I finally push away and focus on the stars above. The instant I inch away, I’m chilled.

  “Dani, come back to my place,” he says.

  My gaze focuses to Kyle. I’m tempted, really tempted. But I can’t. “I’m not ready for another relationship now, especially with you. You’re the last person who I want to be a rebound guy.”

  It becomes obvious Kyle is hurt. “It doesn’t have to be serious.”

  “I can’t lose your friendship. It’s important to me.” My head bows, my gaze intent on the ground by my feet.

  “Dani. Please.”

  “I have to go.” I march away, fighting the urge to take what Kyle offers.

  * * * *

  The next day, I decide to get a tattoo. It’s not a whim. as I have deliberated about it for a long time. Between my Brice and Kyle escapades and quitting my job, now I have motivation. I need to transcend my comfort zone.

  I text Kyle. I need to ensure we are still friends after the previous night, and I ask if he wants to come with me to get my tattoo. I’d go with Tanya, but all her rabid energy would make me more nervous.

  “How are you?” I ask in my text.

  “Horny,” Kyle replies. Another text comes quickly after that: “*tired.” And then another: “Horny.”

  I watch the texts unfold on my screen. “*tired, *tired, *tired. What kind of autocorrect is this? Lol.”

  “I’m dying,” I say, but at least it puts any concerns about the previous night behind me. “Want to get a tattoo with me?”

  “Hell, yes! Tell me when and where.”

  The shop is in downtown Waterbury. The small wood sign reads Taboo Tattoo. When we enter, a guy with multiple piercings mans the front desk that glows thanks to the presence of neon lava lamps. The smell of incense perfumes the air. Metal music plays in the background.

  “How can I help you?” the man asks.

  “I want to get a horseshoe ta
ttoo on my wrist.” I point to the place on my right arm. I had thought about this for a while. I knew I didn’t want a symbol from another language or anything tribal. I didn’t have a cute nickname like Tigger, and I wasn’t getting a fairy or a rose. With all those eliminated, I also knew I wanted something to represent good luck and strength. To me, a horseshoe represented both a strong and majestic animal and the symbol of luck.

  “Okay. Do you want to get it now?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He smiles at the word please. “I need you to fill out the release form and read over the information on tattoos and how they heal. Initial where indicated.” He hands me the forms on a clipboard and points to the spaces I need to fill out.

  I take the forms and a pen from him and begin to read them over.

  “I also need identification.”

  “Okay.” I put the forms on the counter and search through my purse.

  “Have you had any drugs or alcohol in the last few hours?”

  “No.” I implore Kyle to back me up.

  He shrugs. “You never know with this one.”

  The guy behind the counter snorts but takes my ID from me and makes a copy.

  I read and sign all the forms, pay the man, and then Kyle and I have a seat in the waiting room. I worry about spending money I don’t have, especially when my last paycheck is too soon to arrive, but I need to do this.

  The waiting room is decorated like a doctor’s office, but instead of magazines on the table, there are portfolios with different artwork by each artist at the shop. As I peruse them with Kyle, my heart beats quicker, and my head begins to hurt.

  I retreat. “I don’t want to go through with this.”

  He rubs my shoulder. “Relax. You’ll do great.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “No, I don’t think I will. Let’s leave.”

  “Calm down, you already paid.”

  The tattoo artist comes into the room. Young and clean-cut, he sports a red flannel and faded jeans. He introduces himself as James. He’s the opposite of the Goth guy from the front desk, and I feel a little better.

  I shuffle with him and Kyle into the back room, and my fate is sealed.