Forever, Interrupted

by Taylor Jenkins Reid

  “That is a bookmark about our digital library.”

  “What?” he said to me, asking politely but bemused.

  “It’s a website we have that you can go to and download materials instead of coming to the library to get them.”

  He nodded, recognizing what I was saying. “Oh, like if I wanted an i-book.”

  “An e-book, right,” I said. I didn’t mean to correct him.

  “Wait, is it e or i?”

  “E.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. This whole time I’ve been thinking my granddaughter, Lucia, was saying iPad.”

  “No,” I said. “She was. You read an e-book on an iPad.”

  Mr. Callahan started laughing. “Listen to yourself,” he said, smiling. “You sound a little ridiculous.”

  I laughed with him. “Nevertheless,” I said. “That’s what it’s called.”

  “All right, so if I get an iPad, I can read an e-book on it that I download from the library.” He emphasized iPad, e-book, and download as if they were made-up words and I was a toddler.

  “Right,” I said. “That’s actually quite impressive how quick you got that.”

  “Oh, please. I’ll forget tomorrow.” He touched my hand and patted it as if to say good-bye. “Anyway, it sounds like I don’t want anything to do with it. Too complicated for me. I much prefer the real thing.”

  “Me too,” I said. “But I don’t know how much longer the real thing will be around.”

  “Long enough for me,” he said, and I was struck by the sadness of realizing your own mortality. He didn’t seem sad, and yet, I still felt sad for him.

  My boss, Lyle, came by and told Mr. Callahan we were closing.

  “Okay, okay! I’ll leave,” he joked, putting his hands up in surrender. I watched him walk out the door, and then I tidied up and sped away to Ana’s house.

  What the hell happened?! Start at the beginning. Who is this guy?” Ana said to me. I was lying on her couch.

  “Ana, I don’t even know how to explain it.”

  She sat down on the ottoman next to me. “Try.”

  “On Saturday night I ordered a pizza—”

  “Oh my God! He’s a delivery guy? Elsie!”

  “What? No, he’s not a delivery guy. He’s a graphic designer. That’s not . . . Just listen. I ordered a pizza but they said it would take too long to get there. So I went down to pick it up and there was this guy waiting too. That was him. That was Ben.”

  “Ben is the guy?”

  “Ben is the guy. So I notice him, he’s really cute, like too cute for me cute, you know? But he starts talking to me and it’s, like, when he starts talking I just . . . Anyway, I gave him my number; he called me yesterday morning and picked me up for lunch at twelve thirty. It was the best date I’ve ever had. I mean, it was one of the best days I’ve ever had. He says all the right things and he’s so sincere and cute and . . . ”

  “Sexy? Is he sexy?”

  “Oh my God is he sexy. I can’t describe it, but when I’m with him, it’s like I’m with myself. I’m not worried about anything, I feel like I can say whatever I’m thinking and it won’t freak him out. I’m nervous.”

  “Why are you nervous? This sounds amazing.”

  “It is, but this is going so fast.”

  “Maybe he’s the one. Maybe that’s why it’s going so fast. Because it’s right.”

  I was hoping she would say this. I didn’t want to have to say it myself, because it seemed absurd. “No. Do you think?”

  Ana shrugged. “Who knows? It could be! I want to meet this guy!”

  “He’s really great. I’m just . . . What if I’m getting ahead of myself? He says I’m perfect for him and he likes me and it doesn’t feel like bullshit but . . . what if it’s all . . . ”

  “An act?”

  “Yeah. What if I’m being played?”

  “I mean . . . being played how exactly? Did you sleep with him yet?”

  I shook my head. “No, he just slept over and we slept next to each other.”

  “That sounds pretty sincere.”

  “Right, but what if he’s like . . . a con man or something.”

  “You watch too much television.”

  “I know I do, but what if he’s a con man? He’s just like this really sexy, really charming, perfect man who figures out your wildest fantasies of being swept off your feet by a man who loves pizza and bribes gelato workers and is an only child and then boom. My money is gone.”

  “You don’t even have very much money.”

  “Right, that’s why I need all that I have.”

  “No, Elsie. I mean if he’s that good of a con man, he’d target a rich person.”

  “Oh.”

  “You know what I think?” Ana moved toward me and sat so my head was in her lap. “I think you’ve got a good thing going, and you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. So what, it’s moving fast? Just chill out and enjoy it.”

  “Well . . . okay . . . What if there is a limited amount of swooning in a relationship and if you use it all up too fast, then it disappears?”

  Ana looked at me like I had three heads. “You’re starting to stress me out. Give it a rest and stop trying to poke holes in a good thing.”

  I thought about this for a moment and decided she was probably right. I was freaking out about nothing at all. I did the best I could to put it out of my head.

  “You good?” Ana asked me, and I nodded.

  “I’m good. I’m gonna chill.”

  “Good,” she said. “Because we need to talk about me.”

  I lifted my head, finally remembering the normal dynamic of this relationship and feeling much more comfortable about it. “Oh? What about?”

  “Jim!” Ana could scarcely believe Jim wasn’t on the forefront of my mind.

  “Right! How did it go the other night?”

  “I slept with him,” Ana said, sounding disappointed in the act itself. “Totally not worth it. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t even like him. I think saying I wasn’t going to sleep with someone made me want to sleep with someone even if I didn’t really want to sleep with him. Does that make sense?”

  I nodded again. Just then my phone rang. It was Ben. I showed the ringing phone to Ana, who excused herself from her own couch and I answered.

  He was on his way home from work and asked if I was free.

  “If you don’t have plans, I could come over and see you again tonight. I make no assumptions about sleeping over but I should be honest and tell you it’s a goal of mine.”

  I laughed. “That sounds good. When were you thinking?”

  “Have you eaten dinner yet? I could pick you up and take you out. Are you free now?”

  “Oh, okay. I haven’t eaten. Um . . . now? I don’t know.” I knew full well now was fine. I was just a little worried about looking too available, as if I had left my evening open for just this purpose. That is, in fact, exactly what I had done, but you don’t ever want to admit that. “I can make that work,” I said. “Want to meet me at my place in twenty minutes?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I do. I’ll see you then. Wear something fancy. I’m taking your ass someplace special.”

  “Fancy? Okay, I need thirty minutes then.”

  “I’ll give you twenty, but I’ll wait patiently in your living room for the other ten, how’s that?”

  I laughed. “It’s a deal.”

  I hung up the phone and said good-bye to Ana.

  “Call me tomorrow morning, please,” she said. “And I’m saying tomorrow morning because I’m trying to be understanding, but if you get a moment to run to the bathroom and call me, I’ll be waiting by the phone.”

  “You are my favorite person of all time,” I said as I kissed her cheek.

  “Not for long, I’m not,” she said, and because she is a wonderful friend, there wasn’t a trace of resentment. She just saw the writing on the wall.

  When I got home, I ran into the bathroom. I wanted to at l
east get makeup on before he came in the door. I have always lived by the rule that your clothes can be a mess but if your face looks good, no one will notice. I probably believe this because I’d like to lose ten pounds but I think my face is cute. Girls that work out all day and have huge boobs but boring faces probably think the face doesn’t matter if your boobs are taken care of.

  Just as I had taken off my work clothes and put on a pair of black tights, the doorbell rang. I threw on a long shirt and opened the door.

  “Wow,” he said when he came in. He smelled great and he looked great. He was wearing dark jeans and a black button-up shirt. It was nothing special, but it somehow made him look exceptional. He leaned in to kiss me and did so gently, so as not to ruin my lipstick.

  “Give me seven more minutes,” I said, rushing into my room.

  “You got it. I’ll be on the couch here waiting patiently.”

  I shut my bedroom door and took off my shirt. I put on a short black sleeveless dress and black pumps, and then I added a gauzy gray cardigan to make it seem a bit less fancy. I looked in the mirror and felt that I looked a little too . . . matronly. So I pulled off the tights, put the heels back on, and walked out there.

  “I think I’m under seven minutes,” I said as he stood up eagerly.

  “Wow.”

  I held out my arms in display. “Good enough for this mystery dinner?”

  “You look perfect. What happened to the tights?”

  “Oh.” I suddenly felt whorish. “Should I put them back on?”

  He shook his head. “No, not at all. Your . . . your legs look great, is all. I haven’t seen you in high heels before.” He came over and kissed me on the temple. It felt familiar and loving.

  “Well, you’ve only known me since Saturday,” I said as I grabbed my purse. I took special care to make certain my keys were in there. I wasn’t sure what state we would be in when we got back here, but I didn’t want to create any kinks in the plan.

  “Wow. You’re right. It does not feel like that though. Anyway, it’s not important. What is important is that you look fucking hot. Are you going to be warm enough? Fuck it. I don’t care. Don’t put anything else on over this.”

  “Wait!” I said, turning back in to the apartment as he was heading toward the door.

  “Should I grab something? I hate being cold.”

  “If you get cold, I’ll give you my jacket.”

  “But what if my legs are cold?”

  “I’ll put the jacket around your legs. Now get that beautiful ass in my car! Let’s go!”

  I ran right down the stairs into his front seat.

  It was a warm night and we drove across town with the windows down. Once we got on the freeway, the wind from the windows made it too loud to talk so I put my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. Before I knew it, we were parking on the Pacific Coast Highway. The dark, cool beach was to our left and high mountains to our right.

  “Where are we going?” I finally asked. I could have asked earlier and he probably would have told me, but where was the fun in that?

  “We are going to the Beachcomber because we can order our food sitting right over the water and I promise you won’t get cold because I’ll make them seat us by the fire pit.”

  “There’s a fire pit?”

  Ben smiled. “Would I lie to you?”

  I shrugged. “How should I know?”

  “Touché,” he said. “Are you ready? The one caveat is that we have to run across this two-lane highway with superhuman speed.”

  I opened my car door and took off my heels. “Okay. I’m ready.” Ben grabbed my hand and we waited until the timing was right. There were a few times we almost went, and one time I thought for sure I was going to die just standing on the edge of the freeway, but eventually, with much fanfare and me screaming, we made our way across.

  When we got to the restaurant, it was somewhat empty. From the look on Ben’s face, I could tell this was what he was hoping for. He asked to be seated near the fire pit, and within minutes, my legs were warmed by the fire and my shoulders were cool from the sea breeze.

  As I sat there, looking out onto the ocean below us and this new person in front of me, it didn’t feel like my life. It felt like I was living someone else’s life for a night. I didn’t usually spend my Monday nights by a fire overlooking the water, being served chilled white wine and Pellegrino. I usually spent my Monday nights eating Hot Pockets while reading a book and drinking from the tap.

  “This is gorgeous,” I said. I put my hands toward the flames. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  “Thank you for letting me,” he said, as he pulled his chair closer to me.

  Ben and I discussed our days and our jobs. We talked about past relationships and our families. We talked about pretty much anything other than sex, and yet, more and more, it was becoming the only thing on my mind.

  His black shirt clung to his shoulders. The way he had the sleeves rolled up halfway to his elbows exposed his hands and wrists. They were thin but sturdy. Angular but delicate. As I looked at them I wanted them to touch me. I wanted them to lift me.

  “You look great tonight,” I said to him as I buttered my bread. I tried to sound casual. I wasn’t used to complimenting a man like that and I wasn’t sure how to do it without sounding creepy. “That shirt is very flattering on you.”

  “Why, thank you very much!” he said as his smile widened. “Thanks.”

  He looked down at his plate and smiled further. He looked embarrassed.

  “Are you blushing?” I teased him.

  Ben shook his head. “Well, ah.” He looked up at me. “I’m embarrassed to say that I went to the Gap after work and bought this shirt for our date.”

  I started laughing. “Before you even called me?”

  “Yeah. I know. It sounds very stupid. But I just . . . I wanted to look good for you. I wanted to make it a special night and . . . to be blunt, none of my shirts looked good enough for that.”

  “You’re not real,” I said.

  “Pardon me?”

  “You’re just . . . you’re not a real person. What kind of guy is that sincere about things? And that honest? No man has ever gone out to buy a new shirt just to take me somewhere.”

  “You don’t know that!” Ben said.

  The waiter came to take our order. I ordered pasta. Ben ordered steak. That’s how I could tell we both knew he would insist on paying for dinner. I wasn’t going to order anything extravagant on his dime, and if he’d really thought I might succeed in paying for this, he wouldn’t have ordered anything extravagant on mine.

  After the waiter left, I kept at it.

  “Well, sure. Okay. I don’t know that, but no man has ever told me he did.”

  “Obviously. Only an idiot would admit it. It’s too obvious that I like you. I need to reel it in.”

  “No, no. Please don’t. It feels great.”

  “Being liked?” he asked, as he picked up a piece of bread and ripped it in half. He popped one whole half into his mouth. I liked that he would buy a new shirt for me but he wasn’t going to eat delicately in front of me. It showed that even if he wanted to put forward the best version of himself, he was still always going to be himself.

  “Being liked, yeah. And liking someone so much. Being liked by the person you like so much, is maybe more accurate.”

  “Do you feel like things are moving too quickly?” he asked. It jarred me. Obviously, I had been thinking about that and discussing it with Ana, but if he felt like things were going too fast, well . . . I wasn’t sure what I was afraid of. I just knew that even if they were going too fast, I did not want things to slow down.

  “Oh. Uh. Do you? Were you thinking that?” I looked up at him from my wineglass, trying to sound carefree and blithe. I think it worked.

  “No, actually,” he said matter-of-factly. I was relieved to hear it. “I think you and I are just . . . Yes, we are moving quickly but we’re moving at a pace that feels nat
ural for both of us. I think?”

  I nodded, so he kept going.

  “Right. So, I don’t see an issue. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t coming on too strong with you. Because I don’t mean to overwhelm you. I keep telling myself to cut it out. But then I keep doing it. I’m typically a pretty low-key person, but I’m just . . . not low-key about you.”

  I felt like butter in the microwave. I had no strength left to be cool or the type of dishonest you’re supposed to be this early on.

  “Are we crazy here?” I asked. “I feel like you are such a different person than anyone I have ever met and I thought about you all day today. I . . . barely know you and yet I miss you. That’s crazy, right? I don’t know you. I guess I’m worried that we will be so into each other so quickly that we will burn out? Sort of an acute romance, as it were.”

  “Kind of like a supernova?”

  “Hmm?”

  “It’s some sort of star or explosion that’s so powerful it can emit the same amount of energy that the sun will emit over its entire lifetime, but it does it in, like, two months and then it dies.”

  I laughed. “Yep,” I said. “That’s pretty much exactly what I meant.”

  “Well, I think it’s a fair concern. I don’t want to rush through this so fast that we run it into the ground. I’m not sure I think it’s really possible, but better to be safe than sorry.” He chewed and thought. When he was done, he had a plan. “What about this? Let’s give it . . . let’s say, five weeks, and we can see each other as much as we want, but no one can up the ante. We can just stop ourselves from being too intense up front. Let’s just hang out and enjoy each other’s company and not worry about too fast or too slow or anything. And then at the end of five weeks, we can really assess if we are crazy or not. If at the end of it, we are both on the same page, then great. And if at the end of five weeks, we have burnt out or we just aren’t jiving, we’ve only wasted five weeks.”