by Kara Hart
I laugh and try to comprehend what she just said. “Honest-Abe game?” I ask her. “What the hell is that?”
“I don’t know, but it’s what you’re playing right now. I know how men get. They’re all, ‘I love you so much, baby. I’ll do anything. I’ll buy you clothes, pay for your rent, and kiss your feet in the morning.’ But in the end, they never come through,” she says. “I’m not stupid, you know.”
“You must have had a rough childhood,” I say.
“Actually, no,” she shrugs. “My parents have been together since the beginning. I don’t know where the cynic in me came from, but it’s there.”
I decide to just lay my cards on the table. I mean, why not? What do I really have to lose? Sure, it’s a marriage proposal. It’s a big fucking deal. But it’s obvious that this woman is someone special. Plus, if it doesn’t work out, we get to split a house. My father can be happy I made the attempt at least.
“So, you wouldn’t get married?” I ask her.
She doesn’t stop eating, nor does she look up at me. “I don’t know. I think I will someday, you know? I haven’t even finished my finals yet. I can barely think about today, let alone tomorrow,” she says.
“You wouldn’t marry a guy like me?” I ask again, slow and steady.
“Like you?” she asks. This time, she stops eating her food. “What are you asking, James? This is weird.”
I shrug and grab my glass of champagne. “I don’t know. It’s just an idea,” I say.
“Getting married is just an idea?” she asks. “Are you crazy?”
“I’m just saying, it wouldn’t be that weird. Would it? People get married all the time,” I say.
“Well, when you put it that way,” she says, lifting her empty glass off the table.
“Yeah?” I set mine down.
“No! Hell no. So what? People get married. That’s not a good reason to do it. People also eat fast food every day. It doesn’t mean it’s good for you,” she says.
“See, we’re meant for each other. You’re the health guru and I’m the guy with the scalpel,” I say.
“James, that honestly sounds like the premise to a bad horror movie,” she says.
“Or the start of a great romance,” I say.
“Right.” She grabs her fork and spikes a piece of lobster tail. She holds it in front of her, as if it’s a foreign being. “Anyway, can we talk about something else? This is making me lose my appetite.”
The waiter overhears our conversation and interjects, “How about dessert?”
I look at her and she smiles big. “The chocolate mousse with caramel and whip cream sounds like a dream,” she says.
“We’ll get that and two coffees,” I say. She smiles even bigger.
I shouldn’t have brought up the marriage thing. It was a stupid idea to appease my father. Why the hell do I even care so much? I guess because my mother is in the hospital, on her last days. It makes you see things in a different light. Now, I get the importance of following the path, at least a little bit.
After dinner, we’re stuffed and sitting in the car. I keep the radio playing at a low volume and we just sit and listen to the noises outside and in. “This was really fun,” she says. I fumble the ring inside my jacket. Fun. Well, it was, but there was supposed to be more to this. This was supposed to be the night that changed my life forever. Instead, I just feel fat and stupid.
“Yeah, it was perfect,” I say. “We should do stuff like this more often. You know, when you’re finally done with classes.”
“We should.” She smiles. I should be happy with the smile. I should be utterly thrilled that she’s even this into me. But now I want more. I want her as mine, for real.
“I’ll drive you home,” I say, putting the car into gear.
As I pull out, the wheels smash against the gravel and the smell of seafood wafts back in. She’s looking at me in a daze and I’m not sure if it’s good or bad. When she gently rests her head on my shoulder, I know it’s a good thing. Still, she whispers, “Did you mean what you said in there?”
I know exactly what she’s talking about, obviously, but I try and play dumb. “What? About the service? They’ve got great service,” I say.
“No, dummy,” she says. “About getting married. Why’d you bring that up?”
I can’t tell her about my father, nor can I tell her about the house. I can’t tell her about my revelation, about how life is short and family is everything. It’s not what she’ll want. It needs to be a natural thing. “It’s no big deal,” I say. “I was just postulating.”
“Okay… because you wouldn’t get married to someone that fast, would you? I mean, that’s kind of weird. People usually wait years to do that kind of thing,” she says.
I examine the road and slow down at a light. I turn and smile. “Of course not. I was just seeing what you thought about marriage,” I say.
“Someday I want to,” she says. “But it has to be perfect.”
“Like a story,” I say.
“No. It just has to feel right,” she whispers. Her house isn’t far from here and I know I’m not going to get my answer tonight. I can’t even fathom how I’d go about asking her at this point. So, I swallow my pride and suck it up, like a man should.
“I want to keep seeing you, though,” I say.
“Exclusively?” she asks.
I raise my eyebrows and bite my tongue. I turn another corner. The streetlights hit my eye. Another corner and I’m in her driveway. “Yeah. Exclusively,” I say. “I mean, we don’t have to rush anything. I’m just saying.”
“Are you still having dinner with your family on Wednesday?” she asks.
“Yeah, as far as I know. I’m actually kind of excited. These days, I tend to value the time I get with them,” I say.
“I’d like to go,” she declares. “I’d like to meet them.”
“Seriously?” I ask. I put the car in park and reach out to her. She grabs my hand and puts it against her cheek. She kisses my fingers and lets go. I move my head toward her. I feel her soft lips against mine and I’m dying for her again.
“Seriously. What’s the worst that can happen?” she laughs.
“My dad is sort of intense sometimes, especially if he’s been drinking Scotch,” I say. “He gets all… deep.”
“Like how?” she asks me.
“I don’t know. He’s just very sentimental. No, he’s old school. He’s a bit set in his ways when it comes to the idea of family,” I say.
“Well,” she opens the door, “I think I like that.”
“Hold up,” I say, grabbing her hand. She jumps back in and faces me. “You look beautiful. Always,” I tell her. We kiss. I hold her scent in for as long as I can.
“I’ll miss you.” I smile.
“Sure you will,” she says, shutting the door.
But she doesn’t know me as well she thinks. She doesn’t know that I’m sitting in my car, lifting up the front of my suit jacket and smelling her perfume. She doesn’t know that I’m dreaming of her tonight. She doesn’t know about the ring in my pocket.
Olivia
He doesn’t talk to me for days. Literally, days. Of course, I don’t text him either. He’s supposed to be the one to reach out. There’s no “I had a really nice time last night,” or anything. So I forget about him, for the time being. If he wants to be a jerk, he doesn’t get to talk to me.
Of course, when Wednesday rolls around, I get that text from him. “Dinner tonight, right?” he asks me.
I’m honestly surprised he just assumed. I’m halfway through finals and he hasn’t even asked me how they went. I text back, “Uh, I’m not sure anymore.” It’s harsh, but not as harsh as the deafening silence I’ve been getting lately.
Of course, he’s hurt. Or at least he’s acting like he is. He texts back, “Honestly? Why not? I told them all you were going to be there. They want to meet you.”
It doesn’t take long for me to let it all out. “You haven’t even
said one word to me since our dinner date and you expect me to go eat with your family?”
That’s when he calls me and says, “You really like this text thing too much. I’d rather hear your voice.”
“Welcome to 2017. People text, you know,” I say, coldly.
“I thought you might be busy with finals. That’s why I haven’t reached out. Can you forgive me?” he says. And then after some heavy silence, due to my annoyance boiling over, he says, “I’ve missed you so much, you know. I can’t stop thinking about you.” Endless amounts gratitude after endless amounts of silence. Is this the key to happiness?
“You’re a bad liar,” I tell him. “In any case, I might have to pass on the dinner.”
Groans are heard from his side of the phone. “Honestly, Olivia. I’ve been dealing with my mom and I knew you were busy too, so I took a few days to collect myself. Can you blame me?” he asks.
Fuck. I forgot about his mom. Of course he gives me that excuse. Can I blame him? No, I can’t. That pain must be unimaginable. Despite my anger and reluctance, I feel my heart soften. I get that empathetic rush of sweetness. And I cave.
“Fine,” I sigh.
“Really?” he asks. “You’ll come?”
“Yes, but I’m not happy about it. In fact, I’m kind of mad at you right now,” I tell him.
“You’re always mad at me, so it’s okay,” he says. “As long as I get to hear your voice, see your face, and kiss your cheek, I’ll be okay.”
“Bullshit,” I mutter.
“See you tonight,” he sings back to me.
Hours feel like minutes, and suddenly we’re driving down the freeway with the windows down all the way, screaming Shakira. The volume is all the way up and the bass is maxing out. Don’t ask me how we got here. All I know is that after a few drinks of wine, I’m ready to have some fun.
We pull off the freeway, enter into some side streets, and park near a large, beautiful house. The music stops and we’re heaving out breaths of cold air, laughing wildly. He grabs my hand and says, “I like being around you. It’s the only time I ever have any fun.”
“I like being around you too,” I say. I look at the front porch. The door opens and a woman comes out. “So this is the old, family homestead?” I ask him.
“This is it. That’s my sister, right there,” he says. She waves at us, smiling. She lights up what seems to be a joint. “Yeah, she’s a bit wilder than me.”
“She seems cool, actually. Like, she seems nice,” I say.
“She is,” he says, opening the door. “I think you’ll really like my family.”
“No, you won’t!” his sister calls out. She walks down from the porch and reaches us, hugging James. “My suggestion is to stay away from this family. We’re absolutely insane.”
“She’s lying,” James quickly interjects. I, on the other hand, can’t help but laugh.
“I’m completely lying,” she says. “I’m actually really glad James has brought someone here. He hasn’t had a proper girlfriend in years.”
“Uh,” James starts to speak, but I’m ready to keep the myth going.
I jump in and say, “Right. Girlfriend. Yeah, he was telling me that. I couldn’t believe it. I’m sure I’m not the only girlfriend,” I say.
“No, I’m being serious. He’s a man of solitude. You must be really special,” she tells me.
“Come on, girls,” he says. “Enough talking about me.”
Am I special? I obviously like hearing that I am. I just can’t believe this no-girlfriend stuff. Maybe he’s the real deal, after all.
“I’m Olivia, by the way,” I say. She introduces herself as Jenna.
Before I walk in, I have to admire the house from the outside. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and I don’t mean in a gaudy sort of way. It’s got a real homey vibe to it and really reminds me of certain movies, the way childhood is presented to people. It’s perfect.
From the outside, old, classical music can be heard playing on the inside. When we walk inside, we’re greeted by his father. He’s sitting next to a nice set of speakers and a record player. “Oh, my boy!” he calls out. “And his wonderful girlfriend too! It’s so lovely to meet you.”
Girlfriend. Why does everyone think we’ve discussed that yet? I look at James who gives me an eye of honest confusion and regret. Despite it all, I manage to navigate the situation. “I’ve heard so much about you,” I say. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”
“You’re nice,” he laughs. “But I know my son hasn’t said much to you about me. He’s a very solitary figure. I’m Jim.”
“Everyone keeps telling me that tonight, but I haven’t seen that side to him yet,” I say. I glance at him again and he just shrugs.
“My family likes to make things up,” he says. “I’m a surgeon. I work a lot!”
“We’re not blaming you, son,” Jim says. “It’s just so good to have another woman around the house again.”
“Well, it’s nice to feel so welcomed,” I say.
“Want a tour?” James asks me.
“Do I ever,” I say. “I can’t wait to see your old room.”
“I’ve kept all the old posters up,” Jim says. “All the old crushes and everything.”
“I told you to take all of that down,” James sighs. We walk into the hallway and head toward his room. Before he grabs the door handle, he turns to me and says, “Okay, if this is already too weird, we can leave right now.”
I laugh a little, but shake my head. “No, this is great. Really. You’re like an actual, real person,” I say.
He laughs a little, but keeps my hand tightly bound in his. “What do you mean?” He opens the door and leads me into his room. It has blue wallpaper and there’s a wooden bed in the corner of the room. On the wall are posters of half-nude women, with the occasional motivational quote to accompany it.
“Wow, this is amazing,” I say. “I can just picture you as a kid. See, you’re a real person now.”
“What was I before?” he asks.
I shrug and walk deeper inside. “I don’t know. A weird old man.”
“Shut up,” he says and moves in front of me. I feel my heel give way. I fall onto the mattress and look up at James.
“Or what?” I reply, knowing full well what could happen. “Are you going to operate on me or something?”
“Worse than that, I’m afraid,” he says, towering over me. Yet, as he lowers his lips to mine, I know that he’s with me and I’m with him. It’s just this feeling that I have. Right now, we’re together. Tomorrow, we’ll separate briefly and figure out what this thing is. Or… maybe we won’t.
“I like this a lot,” he says.
“Me too.” I kiss him again and my body aches for him. He’s everything. No. He’s nothing. I can’t rely on him, no matter how right this feels. This is just a summer fling.
“My family really likes you,” he says. “I can tell.”
“I’ve been here for like fifteen minutes, James,” I say. But I know it too. His family is great. They’re nice, understanding, and though his father is a bit old-fashioned, it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.
“Still. I can sense it. They think you’re great,” he says.
I blush, but try to hide my cheeks. He lifts me off his bed and kisses me one more time. “Nice posters, by the way.” I wink.
“When you’re sixteen, you can hardly contain yourself.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Man, that was such a weird time.”
“I don’t even want to do the math on how long ago that was,” I say. He pulls me out of the room. “My cradle robber.”
“Ugh, don’t call me that!” he exclaims. I grab his firm butt and smack it right after.
“Enjoy the tour?” Jim asks us, as we find our way through the hall.
“The posters really did it for me, I have to admit,” I say.
“Haha, James was always a gazer.” He chuckles.
I look over at James. Even at thirty-five, he still ge
ts embarrassed by his dad. “A gazer,” his sister laughs alongside their dad. James reluctantly walks over to the table and I sit next to him. His dad brings out a big pot roast and exclaims, “Here it is! The feast!” When that is set in the center, he runs back to the kitchen and grabs a big plate of mash potatoes and gravy. In the middle of the table are two huge bottles of wine.
“I don’t know what to say. In all honesty, this place is amazing. I’m really humbled to be here,” I say. “And this food… Jim, thank you.”
“No, thank you,” he replies. He quickly runs around the table and pours everyone a glass of wine. It’s enough alcohol to all give us DUIs. He holds up his glass and we all follow his lead. “To momma,” he says.
“To Mom,” James repeats. He’s stoic, but his eyes seem to gloss over with sadness.
“Mom,” Jenna says too.
“To Mom,” I say. We clink our glasses and drink it down. Then, the real dinner starts.
Meat, potatoes, the best damn gravy I’ve ever tasted, and some veggies on the side. It truly is amazing. I hate to admit this, but I could fall in love with James based on his dad’s cooking alone.
“So, Olivia,” Jim says. “What do you do?”
“I’m actually graduating from the University fairly soon. I’ll have a degree in health,” I say.
“Well, that’s fantastic!” Jenna says, mouth stuffed.
“Thank you,” I say. “It’s something, I guess. It’s not surgeon status.” I look at James, who bashfully keeps his eyes on his food.
“Every path is important,” Jim says. “Just remember that and keep going for it. My son chose his purpose and I’m sure you know yours.”
“Actually, I don’t,” I say. Jim laughs slightly. “Seriously, I just knew I needed a degree. Don’t get me wrong. I’m interested, but it’s sort of just something I fell into.”
“Well, then. Perfect,” Jim says.
“Let’s not talk about careers,” James speaks up.
“So be it. How did you two meet?” Jim asks.
