Mixed Signals

by Diane Barnes

  I approach him with trepidation. “How are you today?” Even after Nico left last night, I worried about my landlord, sure I was going to wake from a deep sleep to the sound of sirens blasting and a red strobe light flashing on my bedroom walls as an ambulance roared into our driveway. It can’t be good for an elderly person to get as upset as Mr. O’Brien did. It can’t be good for anyone to get that upset.

  He leans on his rake. “You let me know if he bothers you again.”

  I smile, touched by his concern, but it also makes me miss my dad, who should be here watching over me instead of my landlord. “I appreciate you looking out for me, but I can handle Nico.”

  “If I see him here again,” Mr. O’Brien says, “I’m calling the cops.”

  “I don’t think you need to do that.”

  He scratches at the grass with the rake. “Do you want him coming around?”

  I hesitate before responding. Mr. O’Brien holds up his hand. “None of my business,” he says.

  “He won’t be back.”

  Mr. O’Brien resumes cleaning the flower bed, gathering a large pile of decomposed leaves. It doesn’t seem like that long ago they were alive and vibrant with color, hanging from all the trees. I think about how much has changed since the fall. Nico and I got engaged, we broke up, and he moved out. I should have thrown my ring at him as he walked out the door. Maybe if I had, I would have moved on by now.

  “Wish I had picked these up when they first came down,” Mr. O’Brien mutters. “I wouldn’t have to deal with the mess now.”

  * * *

  In my car, as I do every morning, I press my preset for WSPR and check in on BS Morning Sports Talk to see if their discussion involves me.

  Branigan is speaking. “How old is your grandfather?” he asks.

  Zac’s deep voice comes through my speakers. “He’s seventy-four.”

  “Nico, why did you hit an old man?” Branigan asks.

  Mr. O’Brien must have told Zac what happened, and now Branigan’s busting Nico’s chops about it. Good!

  “I didn’t hit him,” Nico snaps.

  “For those of you just waking up, let’s get you up-to-date,” Branigan says. “Nico realized he made a mistake breaking up with Jillian and is trying to get her back.”

  For months, this is exactly what I’ve been wishing for, what I thought I wanted. But Branigan’s words bring me no joy today.

  “He went to talk to her last night, but she kicked him out. Let’s go to the phones and see if our callers have any suggestions on how you can win her back.”

  Steve from Douglas is the first to offer Nico advice. “That ship has sailed, Brother. Once you break up, you need to keep moving forward.”

  Caren from Foxboro has a different perspective. “Inundate her with gifts. Flowers, chocolate, jewelry, and if that doesn’t work, give me a call.” She cackles.

  A minute later, Branigan announces that Frank from South Boston is on the line. I expect Mr. O’Brien to direct the conversation back to sports. “That girl has always been too good for that louse. Tell him to leave her alone.” There’s a loud click. I imagine Mr. O’Brien slamming down his landline and heading back outside to rake.

  * * *

  As I enter the door to my floor at the office, Ben approaches from the opposite end of the hallway. The smile he gives me causes my heart to flutter. When we meet, he stops. “SharkBytes made me a great offer.”

  Boo, I thought the smile was for me. “So you’re taking the job?”

  “I’m on my way to tell Stacy.”

  My heart sinks. I’ve been in the building less than a minute, and it’s already a bad day. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  He places his hand on my shoulder. “This will be good for us.”

  Us? Does that mean there could be such a thing? I practically skip to my cube.

  Renee is waiting for me there. “Did Ben tell you his news?” She slouches into my guest chair.

  “I saw him on my way in.”

  “I can’t believe he’s leaving us.” She mindlessly stirs her yogurt, mixing in blueberries and granola.

  “He’s been here a long time. It was time for him to pursue other opportunities.” Could dating me be considered an opportunity?

  Renee’s head snaps up. “I expected you to be down about this. You hate change more than anyone I know.”

  “I don’t hate change.”

  Renee’s eyes widen. “Please,” she says. “Your parents moved over four years ago and you still haven’t gotten over it. And you still haven’t tried to move on from Nico.”

  “That’s not because I hate change.” I turn my back to her to open the blinds. The sunlight brightens my cube.

  “Then why is it?”

  “I don’t know, Renee.”

  She leaves me alone in my cube, wondering if the reason I stayed with Nico for six years is because I don’t like change.

  * * *

  Ben and I run out at lunch to pick up sandwiches. He starts his car, and the sports station comes on. “Did you listen today?” I ask. I don’t think he did because he hasn’t said a word about Nico stopping by my apartment.

  He backs out of his parking space and turns the radio to music. “I did.”

  As we wind down the hill, I lower my window so I can breathe in the warm spring air. It would seem like a summer day, except the trees we pass are all still bare. “When do you think the leaves will grow back?” I ask.

  “May seventeenth at 2:00 p.m.” Ben pokes my leg as he says it. “I don’t know.”

  “Some of them are starting to bud.” I point to a large maple whose branches are showing signs of life. “I love this time of year because everything gets a chance to start over.”

  Ben lowers the radio’s volume, silencing Selena Gomez, who is singing about being sick of the same old love. “Speaking about starting over, I’ve been waiting for you to tell me what happened with Nico.” He stops at the bottom of the hill before turning right onto the main road.

  “There isn’t much to say. He came over to explain why he left.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I didn’t give him a chance to say anything. I told him to leave, and my landlord made sure he did.”

  We stop at a red light. Ben turns to look at me. “So how did you feel about him showing up?”

  “I was mad, but I was also curious about what he would say. Part of me wants to hear his explanation.”

  “Why?”

  “Closure, I guess.”

  Ben frowns. “You get closure when you decide he doesn’t matter anymore, not because of something he says.”

  “That sounds like something I might have heard at EAP if I had taken HR’s advice.” I laugh.

  Ben remains serious. “He’ll try again, you know.” The light turns green. He steps on the gas so hard that I am thrown backward in my seat. He pats my knee. “Sorry.”

  “He already has,” I admit. “He called this morning after his show.”

  “And?”

  “I didn’t pick up.”

  “Why now?” Ben asks as he turns into the parking lot.

  I shrug. “I think he’s afraid I’m moving on. I gave him back the ring. Branigan saw me at the club with you.”

  “He thinks we’re together?” Ben circles around looking for an empty space.

  “Who knows, but he’s always had a thing about you.”

  “What kind of thing?”

  “Jealousy, I guess.”

  Ben smiles at me. “You used to talk about me all the time, didn’t you?”

  I blush because what he’s saying has some truth. “It’s because of what happened at the Christmas party.”

  “He saw us dancing together?”

  “No, I’m talking about the first party I went to.” I poke his arm. “He heard you tell me that I looked smoking hot.”

  “Well, you did.” Ben has circled around the lot three times, but there are no free spots, so he pulls up to the curb. “You pret
ty much always do.” He dashes out of the car to get our sandwiches, leaving me alone, giddy about what he just said.

  We make small talk on the ride back until we reach the office park.

  “My last day is Friday,” he says as we start up the hill.

  “I know. I saw Stacy’s email.”

  He eases up on the gas. The car slows. “So as of Friday night, we’ll no longer be coworkers.” He shoots me a look that sends chills up and down my spine. “I was thinking it would be a good night to go to dinner together.”

  “Like a date?” I’m sure there’s a stupid grin on my face.

  “No,” he says. “Not like a date. An actual date.”

  Chapter 35

  A few hours after I say goodbye to Ben for the last time at the office, he’s standing on my doorstep holding a small gift-wrapped box in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. My heart beats wildly as I let him in. I’m going on a date with Ben!

  “Hi,” I say shyly.

  He gives me a quick hug. “Hi, yourself.” He extends the box to me. “I was going to bring flowers or chocolate, but this is much better.” He holds up the Malbec. “We can have a drink before we go, and you can open it.”

  “Sure.”

  He follows me to the kitchen, where I rummage through the drawer for a corkscrew. Usually I have no problem opening a bottle of wine, but tonight I can’t even remove the foil covering the cork because my hands shake so much. “Let me do that,” Ben says, taking the bottle and corkscrew from me. I reach into the cabinet for two glasses. One slips from my hand, shattering on the countertop. Ben and I both jump.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “I’m fine. Just clumsy.” Relax. It’s only Ben.

  “Be careful you don’t cut yourself,” he says, helping me clean up the broken glass.

  When it’s all picked up, he corners me against the counter. “Are you nervous?”

  “I guess so. I don’t know why.”

  “I’m nervous too.” He smiles as he places a hand on my shoulder. “So maybe we should get this out of the way.” He leans down to kiss me, his lips soft and gentle on mine. As I respond, his kiss becomes more demanding and his hands drop to my waist. He pulls me against him so that are bodies are melded together as his tongue slips into my mouth. My eyes are closed, but I see an explosion of colors over the darkness, red, orange, and yellow, a fire burning out of control. I run my fingers through his wavy hair. God, I have wanted to do that for so long! His breath quickens and his hold on me tightens.

  As the kiss continues, all my senses are heightened. I’m aware of the faint taste of peppermint on his tongue, the spicy scent of his cologne, and the hardness of his thighs pinning me in place. Nico was never all that interested in kissing. He seemed to think of it as something he had to endure to get to the good part, like a kid eating his vegetables so he can have dessert. Ben, on the other hand, clearly views making out as an enticing appetizer, fresh bread dipped in oil, and cheese that you overindulge in before the main course.

  Neither one of us wants to be the first to pull away, and the kiss goes on and on. Outside a car door slams. Ben lifts his mouth from mine and steps backward. Woozy, I stumble toward him, and he reaches out to steady me.

  “Not too bad for a first kiss,” he teases.

  “Not too bad at all,” I agree.

  After he pours us each a glass of wine, we settle in the living room so that I can open the gift. It’s wrapped in shiny paper that is the exact same shade of green as Ben’s oxford. “You coordinated the gift wrap to your shirt,” I joke.

  “Actually, I wrapped this weeks ago. I was waiting for a good time to give it to you.”

  Why would he get me a gift weeks ago? Usually I take my time opening a present, trying to preserve the paper, but tonight, once I loosen the gold ribbon that he tied around the package, I tear off the wrapping in one fell swoop. He bites down on his lip watching me.

  My hands tremble and my eyes fill with tears when I realize what the gift is: a replica of the Little Mermaid globe that my grandmother gave me and Christian broke all those years ago. “Where did you find this?”

  “On eBay,” he says. “Started looking for it the day you told me about it.”

  I picture him pouring over the eBay site day after day to find this for me. The image makes me think of Mr. O’Brien gluing his wife’s mug back together. “That’s incredibly sweet.” I wipe away a tear that’s rolling down my face and lean toward him so that I can hug him. As our heads come closer together, he moves in to kiss me again. There is nothing gentle about this one. It’s hungry and suggestive. As it intensifies, there’s no doubt what it’s leading to. He lifts my sweater as I work on the buttons of his shirt and his belt buckle. He tugs down my skirt as he pushes me backward. At some point we roll off the couch onto the floor, both of us crying out as we go over the edge. Later we move to my room, where we make love again under the glow-in-the-dark stars Nico pasted to the ceiling in what seems like another lifetime.

  * * *

  The next morning I wake up sated and sore—but in a good way. The best sex I ever had. Did I really say that to him? I flip over, expecting to see him sleeping soundly. The other side of the bed is empty. I lie still and listen for him in the bathroom or downstairs. The house is silent. I get out of bed and peek out the window. His car is gone. My stomach flips.

  He must have left a note, I think, and race downstairs. On the way to the kitchen, I pass my clothes from last night, scattered on the living room floor along with the wine glasses and a large red stain from when we tumbled off the couch onto the floor, knocking over my glass.

  I search the counters and the table, but there is no note. Damn. I imagine him doing the walk of shame across the porch and down the driveway, and I experience the same rage I get when listening to BS Morning Sports Talk.

  How could I have been so dumb? I am just another of his conquests. Serves me right for coming on to him the way I did.

  By the time I get back to my bedroom, the pain I’m feeling is no longer good. I have rug burn. My lips feel swollen and bruised, and my inner thighs ache. I fling open the windows and rip the rumpled sheets from the mattress.

  I feel like such an idiot. For crying out loud, what did I think would happen? I’d sleep with Ben and he’d declare his never-ending love for me? Yeah, you did think that. Idiot!

  The doorbell rings. Ben returning? I rush to the door. Mr. O’Brien stands there carrying a ladder. Holding a large plastic container by a bright blue handle, Zachary stands next to his grandfather. “We’re fixing the ceiling. Told you yesterday,” Mr. O’Brien says. “Did you forget?”

  “No.” Yeah, I did! I hold the door open. He and Zachary come in and head toward the stairway. The old man pauses on the third step, glancing into the living room. I swear he’s looking right at my discarded bra. I wonder if he saw Ben sneaking off in the early morning hours.

  While Mr. O’Brien and Zac work upstairs, I clean the living room. Before I get far, the doorbell rings again. Thank God, I think, hurrying to answer it.

  “Surprise!” my mother yells. She opens the storm door, steps inside and hugs me. My father trails behind her. He too embraces me. I want to dissolve into tears in his arms.

  I try to compose myself. “What are you doing here?”

  “We had nothing going on this weekend, so we thought we’d take a quick trip up to see you.”

  “Why didn’t you call?” I guess it’s a good thing that Ben left.

  “It was a last-minute decision,” my father says.

  I usher them to the living room, frantically surveying the area to be sure there are no telltale signs of what went on here last night. My mother immediately hones in on the dark red stain on the carpet. “Did you spill wine?”

  “I knocked over a glass.”

  She goes to the sink and runs water over a paper towel. “Did you even try to clean it?”

  “I just spilled it and was about to do that.”

&nb
sp; “You were already drinking this morning?” my father asks.

  My mother blots the spot with water. “No, the spot is dry. It didn’t just happen.” She returns to the kitchen for the saltshaker.

  “Marianne, why are you pouring salt on the carpet?” my father asks.

  “It will help draw out the wine. How long has it been here?” she asks.

  “It happened last night.”

  She shakes her head. “And you didn’t try to clean it up.”

  I was busy! I shout inside my head.

  “We only just got here. Let’s not annoy her already.” My father winks at me.

  There’s loud pounding from upstairs. My parents look up at the ceiling. “My landlord is doing work,” I explain.

  My mother continues her inspection of the living room. She bends over and reaches for something beside the couch. I can’t see what’s captured her attention. My heart beats faster. I took the bra upstairs, but what about my panties?

  “Where did you get this?” She’s holding the Little Mermaid globe.

  How could he give me such a sweet gift and then sneak off in the morning?

  “A friend found it for me.”

  She bends down again. This time she comes up holding the wrapping paper. Her eyes go to the dark red stain in the carpet. I can see her doing the math. “A friend as in a boyfriend?”

  “He’s no one,” I answer. I think of Ben skulking out of my apartment before I woke up this morning. Clearly I’m no one to him.

  There’s another large bang from upstairs, and then the sound of tiny pieces of plaster hitting the floor, like the world is coming down on me.

  * * *

  “Who are you expecting to call?” my mother asks. It’s Saturday evening. We’re eating at a tapas restaurant in my neighborhood. After dinner, we’re heading to Boston to see a musical. Earlier, we went shopping at the outlets in New Hampshire. My parents are wearing me out.

  I drop my phone back into my purse. I haven’t missed any calls or texts. I didn’t need to pull it out to find that out. The volume is on high. If it had rung, I would have heard it. “No one.”