Heartstrings and Diamond Rings

by Jane Graves

  “Brandon? Do you know what the definition of comedy is?”

  He had no idea where she was going with this. He only knew he didn’t want to go there with her. “What?”

  “Comedy is pain. Plus time.”

  “Uh…I don’t get it.”

  “What it means,” she said, “is that maybe sometime in the far, far future, perhaps when I’m approximately ninety years old, I might look back on what happened tonight and laugh.”

  “So it was…funny?” he asked hopefully.

  “Will you pay attention?” she snapped. “Have sixty years passed since I went out with Zach?”

  “Uh…no.”

  “Then it’s not funny yet, is it?”

  “Hard to say,” Tom said. “Comedy’s like that. What’s tragic to one person might be really funny to another. I read an article in Scientific Mind about the way people process—”

  Both Alison and Brandon turned to glare at him.

  “Uh…I think I’ll go play pool now.”

  Tom grabbed his beer and slid off the stool. Alison climbed onto it. She looked over at Tony, who was working behind the bar. “Hey, Tony!”

  Tony looked over his shoulder, and the moment he saw the look on Alison’s face, his usual congenial smile vanished. “Yeah?”

  “Bring me a vodka martini. And keep them coming until I tell you to stop or I lose consciousness, whichever comes first.”

  Tony flicked his gaze to Brandon. I don’t think I’d want to be you right now. Brandon gave him a look in return. I don’t want to be me, either.

  “Okay, Alison,” Brandon said, “why don’t you tell me—”

  She held up her index finger, stopping him. A minute later, Tony set her martini down in front of her. She picked it up. Started to drink. Kept drinking. Drained the glass. Smacked it down in front of her. Tony’s eyes widened with surprise.

  “Don’t just stand there,” she snapped. “Bring me another one.”

  Tony spun around and did as he was told. Alison slowly turned to face Brandon. “So, Brandon,” she said with eerie sweetness. “Would you like me to tell you about the man you set me up with?”

  No, ma’am, I most certainly would not. “Uh…sure. Go ahead.”

  “You set me up with a man,” she said, “who decided tonight that he definitely wants to go through with his sex change operation.”

  For at least the count of five, those words refused to penetrate Brandon’s skull. They just meandered around, looking for an entry point, but the door to his brain was locked solid.

  “Come again?” he said.

  “Sex change operation,” Alison snapped. “What part of that do you not understand?”

  “I understand what a sex change operation is,” Brandon said. “But Zach? No way. The man plays rugby, for God’s sake.”

  “Manly sport notwithstanding, he wants to be a woman, and he wants to be one now.”

  “No,” Brandon said, shaking his head wildly. “No way. That’s just weird.”

  “You think that’s weird? That’s not weird. That’s the normal part. You haven’t heard anything yet.”

  “There’s more?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m just getting started.”

  Tony set another martini down in front of Alison. She drank half of it in one gulp.

  “Wait a minute,” Brandon said. “If he’s going to have a sex change operation, then he’s interested in men. So why did he agree to go out with you?”

  “Ah,” Alison said, holding up her index finger. “That’s where the freak show begins.”

  Brandon braced himself. This was definitely going to be one for the record books.

  “Wrap your brain around this,” Alison said. “He wants to become a woman, and then he wants to date women.”

  For the span of several seconds, Brandon looked at her dumbly. When light finally dawned, his eyes shot open wide.

  “Are you telling me the man is having a sex change operation so he can become a lesbian?”

  “Wow. You catch on fast. It took me a full minute to get it.”

  “No. No way. You’re making this up. You have to be making this up.”

  Alison held up her palm. “As God is my witness, the man wants nothing to do with penises, his or anyone else’s, ever again. See, he told me he’s always felt that penises were very threatening. Even his own. Every time he gets an erection—”

  “Alison!” Brandon said. “You want to spare me here? Just a little?”

  “Hey, all you have to do is hear about it. I had to live through it.”

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea. My grandmother met him at one of his agency’s cancer research benefits and added him to her database. He looked perfect on paper, so I met with him face-to-face. I asked him every question I could possibly think of.”

  “Here’s a question you forgot. How about, ‘Hey, Zach. About your sexuality. Have you ever considered becoming a woman and then dating women?’”

  Brandon sighed. “Guess I’d better add that to the questionnaire.”

  “At this rate, the damned thing is going to be twenty pages long.”

  “I still don’t get what he hoped to accomplish by going out with a woman while he’s still a man.” Brandon winced. “Did I just say that?”

  “He said he was still denying wanting the operation right up to the moment he went out with me. When he met me—get this—he said it made him realize how much he wants to become a lesbian. I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere. I’ll let you know when I find it.”

  “I can’t believe you hung around long enough to hear all that.”

  “You don’t understand. I was stunned into paralysis. Not that I have anything against lesbians, but I’d have to fall out of a closet if I were going to marry one.”

  “Speaking of that,” Brandon said, “I really don’t get it. What’s your rush to get married? You’re still young.”

  “Thirty-one is not young. Look at these crow’s feet around my eyes,” she said, pointing. “I’m getting gray hair. And I can practically feel my eggs drying up.” She sighed. “Sorry. Inappropriate. Forgot you weren’t a woman.”

  “No problem. After this evening, I think we’re all a little gender confused.”

  Alison took another long sip of her martini and then set it down with a body‑heaving sigh. “You realize if I were still paying you for the privilege of going on dates like this, this might be the time I’d ask for my money back. For real.”

  “I know you find this hard to believe,” Brandon said, “but I’m actually pretty good at matchmaking. I’ve missed a few times, but it’s been normal missing. They just didn’t have the right chemistry. Nothing like this. I mean, nothing.”

  Alison let out a dejected sigh. “Then maybe it’s me.”

  “You? How can it be you? I’m the one picking the men.”

  “You don’t understand. I’m cursed. My love life has always been crazy like this. You just got caught in the vortex.”

  “So you’ve had dates before now that were a little strange, too?”

  “A little strange? Get this. I thought my last boyfriend was going to propose, and instead he wanted to know if I’d arrange a threesome for us with a friend of mine.”

  Brandon just sat there, dumbstruck.

  “I can’t believe I just told you that.” She looked down at her glass. “Thank you, vodka.”

  “What else?” Brandon asked. “Now that the vodka is talking.”

  “Well, let’s see. There was the guy I dated for two years who owned a Harley dealership and decided he was gay.” She paused. “Wow. Plain old gay sounds like no big deal after what happened tonight, huh?”

  “He owns a Harley dealership and he’s gay?”

  “Zach plays Rugby and he wants a sex change operation?”

  Good point.

  “Lemme ask you something, Brandon,” Alison said, her words starting to run together.

  “Yeah?”

  “You think a person oughta go to a r
estaurant and blow his nose on a cloth napkin? Just a big ol’ honk right there at the table?”

  “That’s gross.”

  “You bet your life it was. See, before I even met you, my dating life was filled with a gazillion million potholes. And I’ve hit every stinkin’ one of them.”

  She drained the rest of martini number two, and then called out to Tony to bring her number three. He walked over and eyed her carefully.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “You might want to slow down on those.”

  “Oh, hell, no. I’m just getting started.”

  “You can’t hold your alcohol.” Tony turned to Brandon. “She does crazy things when she drinks too much.”

  “I do not.”

  “Yeah? Remember the state fair incident?”

  “Hey!” Alison said. “I thought we agreed not to talk about that!”

  “I’m just saying that sometimes when you drink—”

  “Tony?”

  He stopped short. “Yeah?”

  She leaned in. “If you don’t bring me another martini, I’m going to tell Heather what really happened to that god-awful shirt she bought you on your birthday, and it had nothing to do with spilled motor oil.”

  Tony’s eyes widened. “Oh. Well, then. Martini number three coming right up.”

  As he walked away, Brandon said, “Wow. You play hardball.”

  “Damn right. Nothing’s worse than a bartender who won’t bring you a drink.” She paused. “Well, unless it’s a man who wants to be a lesbian.” She tilted her head, thinking. “I tried really hard to picture Zach as a woman. Couldn’t do it. Maybe after about fifty rounds of electrolysis. And if he sucked in a little helium before he talked. Because he was a pretty hot guy, you know? I’m not so sure he’ll be a hot woman, though. I’d have to think about that one.”

  A minute later, Tony brought Alison’s martini, but he didn’t set it down. “You did walk here tonight, didn’t you?”

  “No, Tony. I drove my car, like, a block and a half. Of course I walked here.”

  “And I’m going to walk home with her,” Brandon said.

  Alison looked offended. “You don’t have to do that, Brandon. I am not drunk.”

  “It has nothing to do with you being drunk. I just don’t believe a lady should have to walk home alone after dark.”

  Alison frown rose into a rapturous smile. “Oh, that is so sweet!” She turned around and shook her finger at Tony. “I want you to go straight home tonight and tell Heather what a nice, nice man Brandon is. Emphasize the word nice.” Alison leaned in and whispered loudly enough for half the bar to hear, “I’m afraid she doesn’t like him very much.”

  Tony set her martini down in front of her. “Drink it slowly.”

  She made a face at him, picked up the glass, and took a long, gulping swallow. He rolled his eyes helplessly.

  “You know what?” Alison said to Brandon. “Now that I think about it, it might not take sixty years. A man who wants to be a lesbian is pretty darned close to being funny already. What do you think?”

  “Yeah. It’s hilarious, all right.”

  “Wait a minute,” Tony said. “A man who wants to be a lesbian?”

  Brandon shook his head. “Don’t ask.”

  “Yes, my date with Zach was indeed hilarious,” Alison said. “I’m thinking it’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened to me. To anyone. Ever. And what a story, right? I bet not one woman in ten zillion has dated a male lesbian wannabe.”

  “And I’m so very proud to have set you up with him,” Brandon said glumly.

  “Nah,” she said, waving her hand. “You just gave me what I wanted, right? Greg without a felony warrant, and David without a crazy ex-wife.” She paused, giggling. “Except he’s Zach without a penis.”

  Tony looked at Brandon. “You set her up with a man with no penis?”

  “No, no, no,” Alison said, waving her hand. “He has one for now. But he’s scared of it. A man should not be scared of his own penis.” She looked at Brandon. “So I think he’s doing the right thing by getting rid of it, don’t you?”

  “God, no,” Brandon said, cringing. “That’s a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.”

  “So how about you, Tony?” Alison said. “If you were scared of your penis, wouldn’t you just whack that sucker off?”

  “Uh…I think I’m with Brandon on that.”

  “Men. God. They’re so sensitive about their manhood. You don’t see women freaking out over their vaginas.” Then she looked distressed. “Oh, poor Zach. What if he’s scared of his new vagina, too?”

  Tony gave Brandon a look that said, Time for her to go.

  “I think I’d like to get some fresh air,” Brandon said to Alison. “There’s a lot of that on the walk home. How about it?”

  “But I haven’t finished my drink yet. Hold on.”

  Brandon winced as she grabbed her martini glass and drained it. Then she slid off her bar stool and started for the door.

  “Oops,” she said spinning back around. “My purse. I need to pay—”

  “My treat,” Brandon said, tossing some bills on the bar. He grabbed her purse, then grabbed her as she wobbled hard to one side.

  She was going to be so sorry in the morning.

  “Take it easy there,” he told her.

  “It’s these shoes,” she said, plopping down in a nearby booth and kicking them off. She scooped them up and stood up again. “There. That’s better.”

  She walked to the door, those shoes dangling from her fingertips. Brandon caught up with her.

  “Here,” he said, handing her the purse and looping his hand around her upper arm. “Put that over your shoulder. You hold your stuff, and I’ll hold you.”

  She looked up at him with a loopy grin. “You’re a nice guy, Brandon. Did I ever tell you that?”

  “Yes, I believe you did.”

  He opened the door for her, and they stepped out into the night. “Which way?” Brandon asked. Alison pointed, and they started down the sidewalk.

  “So what exactly happened at the state fair?” he asked.

  “Nothing happened,” she said. “And I don’t care what Tony says, nobody called the cops.”

  “Good thing, since nothing happened.”

  “Damn right.”

  As they strolled along, Brandon took a deep breath, inhaling the heavenly aromas coming from a nearby Italian café. They passed a beer and wine shop, a dry cleaners, and a clothing resale store, all of which had been totally updated, even as they held onto the historic feel of life a hundred years ago.

  A few minutes later, they reached her condo complex. It had design elements that made it look like a turn-of-the-century apartment building even though it was clearly only a few years old. She pointed to a second floor unit. This was going to be a challenge. Brandon wrapped his arm around her shoulders and headed for the stairs.

  “Come on,” he said. “Up we go.”

  She trudged up the stairs beside him, tripping a little on the third step. After that, she wrapped her arm around his waist, leveled out, and managed to make the rest of the climb. When they reached the top, she took a deep breath and blew it out.

  “Boy, that was a lot of stairs,” she said. “Like, twice as many as usual.”

  “Where are your keys?”

  “Oh. Keys.” She fished through her purse and pulled them out. He took them from her and opened her door. He led her inside, leaving the door ajar, and got a surprise.

  Her condo may have been new, but her furnishings weren’t. In the living room was a sofa the size of the Queen Mary upholstered in a heavy floral fabric flanked by a couple of side chairs in green velvet. He looked around for a TV. When he didn’t see one, he assumed it was inside the cabinet on the wall across the room from the sofa. Big, ornate lamps lit the room with a warm glow. It looked as Victorian England had time traveled and landed squarely in the middle of Alison’s living room.

  “You have a new condo but old furniture,”
he said. “What’s the deal?”

  “I want to wait to buy a big old house until I’m married. But just because I have a modern condo, it doesn’t mean I have to have furniture that’s all…ugh. Contemporary.”

  All at once, three cats galloped into the living room, meowing all at once. Brandon thought Jasmine was bad. This was worse. They were like a preschool choir. Cute and all, but, God, the noise.

  “There are my darling kitties!” Alison said, petting one of them when she jumped onto the arm of the sofa. Alison stroked her down the length of her back. “Okay, this is Ethel, and that one over there with the white paws is Ricky, and that one is…uh…” She tilted her head questioningly as she stared at the third cat.

  “Lucy?” Brandon said.

  Alison looked at Brandon quizzically. “How did you know that?”

  “I’m psychic, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Alison sank to the sofa with a heavy sigh. “I think I should sit for a minute.”

  She sat down on the sofa, then fell to one side, her head on the sofa pillow but her feet still on the floor. Brandon lifted her legs by the ankles and put them on the sofa, those gorgeous legs he definitely needed to be ignoring right now.

  He sat down beside her. “Alison? Are you all right?”

  “Maybe that third martini wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

  Just then, Lucy jumped up on the back of the sofa, walked the length of it, and stopped to stare down at Alison, letting out a plaintive meow. Oh, no. Mom’s tipping the bottle again. At the same time, Ethel jumped onto the sofa behind Brandon and rubbed her head against his arm.

  “Whoa!” Alison said.

  “What?”

  “Ethel likes you!” she said, her voice awestruck. “She doesn’t like anybody. There was this guy I dated once. She threw up on him.”

  As long as Alison didn’t throw up on him, all would be well. “So why did you drink so much tonight?”

  She lifted one shoulder in a weak shrug. “I don’t know. Frustration, I guess.”

  “Because of the men I’ve been setting you up with?”

  “Not completely. It’s like I told you. My bad experiences with men started way before you ever showed up.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s all going to work out.”