by Girard, Dara
She shrugged. “Well, I am.”
The phone rang before Diane could reply. Brenna picked it up, relieved at the interruption. “Hello?”
“Hi, I’m Tony. Your mother—”
Brenna made a face then sweetened her voice. “I’m sorry, but my mother made a mistake. I’ve decided to become a nun. God bless.” She hung up.
Diane stared at her outraged. “Brenna!”
She calmly returned to her dinner. “I don’t need you to find me a man.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you had one of your own. Why can’t you at least date?”
“I do date.”
“Then how come I never get to meet them?”
“Because I keep them in little jars in my room.”
“Brenna, until you find yourself a man, I will continue to do so.”
“Mom, the truth is I’ve given up on men. Completely. I’m happy with my life and that’s the way it will be.”
Diane hesitated then said, “I want you to be happy.”
Brenna smiled. “I am.” But for the first time in years, she wondered if that was true.
***
Brenna glanced at her watch with mounting dread. Ten minutes to six. Her heart raced as she chewed the top of her pen into a flat sheet of plastic. She wanted to run, but she wouldn’t. She would stay with her plan. Everything was set. She would leave five minutes early. When Hunter arrived, Pauline would give him the name of his date then he, in turn, would give up his ridiculous idea of wanting her and leave. Then she’d be rid of him and he’d never know anything about her. She took a deep breath. Everything would be fine.
Brenna jumped when her buzzer rang. She put her pen down then answered.
“He’s not coming,” Pauline said.
“How do you know?”
“Because I know.”
“Fine.” She sat back and glanced at her watch. Pauline was right. He wasn’t coming. She told herself she was relieved not disappointed.
Pauline came into the room and sat down resigned. “Well.”
Brenna nodded. “Well.”
“He didn’t show up.”
“Nope.”
“Perhaps he changed his mind.”
“I hope so.” Brenna glanced at a file she’d set up for him. “Although he did waste my time.”
Pauline snorted. “He’s inconsiderate, remember?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I remember.”
“So you’re no longer attracted to him?”
Brenna began to smile. “Is that what you’re worried about?”
She nodded.
“It was a passing infatuation, you needn’t have worried. I know how to handle men.”
“This one flustered you.”
Brenna raised a mocking brow. “He flustered you too.”
Pauline shrugged. “At least he’s gone. That’s the good news. The bad news is Helen’s last date was a disaster.”
Helen was a client who’d been on four other disastrous dates. “How?”
“Same story. She scared him off.”
Brenna picked up her pen then set it down. Back to work. From Hunter to Helen. Life was back on track. “I’ll call her tomorrow.”
That evening when Brenna got home, she puttered about trying to reorganize her thoughts. She didn’t care that he hadn’t shown up. She admired his ambition but had recognized an impulsiveness in him that made him unpredictable. She found unpredictability an undesirable trait in a man. Were she to choose her prefect match, he would be a stable, grounded, financially successful man with no wish for children. Simple in his desires and not in the need of a pseudo mother or hooker, but rather a companion. Hunter wouldn’t make a good companion. There was something a little too wild about him, uncontrollable and diverting. He probably had decided to choose someone from his undoubtedly thick black book. Good luck to him. At least he was out of her life.
Brenna walked over to the bookshelf, wondering what book to bury herself in. She stared at the rows of books that lined the far wall then turned away. She wasn’t in the mood to read. She actually wanted company, which was rare. Books or a good selection of songs usually provided enough company, but tonight they felt like an empty activity. Since Tima wasn’t home, she decided to visit her brother who lived in a reddish-brown high rise apartment twenty minutes away. She pushed back a bit of envy when she saw a couple playing tennis and an older man jogging the pristine grounds. Two activities she could never do. She walked to her brother’s apartment and knocked.
Stephen opened the door, filling the doorway as he looked down at her. He pulled on his goatee and scowled. “Hello?”
“Hello. I came for a visit.”
He playfully narrowed his dark brown eyes. “Do you have the entry fee?”
Brenna held up a pot of stew.
He nodded and stepped aside.
Her brother lived well for a single man. She loved the authentic Peruvian rug that took up most of his living room, the faint scent of cedar from a chair he’d made years ago and the over stuffed gray couch sitting squarely in the living room. But it was the lighting that gave the simple room unmitigated elegance. Her brother was a lighting genius, although he’d never admit it. He could make the smallest, dullest room look beautiful. She never understood why he didn’t leave the company he worked for and strike out on his own. Unfortunately, he didn’t have her drive.
They ladled their stew into small white ceramic bowls then went into the living room. Brenna sat on the couch. Stephen sat on the floor. He’d always preferred that position although no one in the family could understand why a six foot four inch person would choose the ground.
“So what did Mom have to say?” he asked.
She shot him a glance. “Can’t you guess?”
He raised his voice and imitated her tone. “Why aren’t you married?”
Brenna laughed. “Very good.” She glanced around. “I should invite her to come here.”
Stephen shook his head. “Won’t work. She can’t say anything to me. I’m still married.”
“Separated.”
“Which means I’m still married.”
“Fiona shouldn’t count.”
He turned to her. “What do you mean she shouldn’t count?”
“There should be a law against marrying a bore.”
He frowned. “A bore?”
“Yes, she has no ambitions, no interests.”
He shrugged. “Not everyone is as career driven as you.”
“She doesn’t even have a hobby.”
Stephen flashed a grin. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“I don’t consider sex a hobby.”
He sent her a sly look. “Then you’re not doing it right.”
“The problem with you is that you don’t want anyone to take you out of your comfort zone.”
He pointed his spoon at her. “And your problem is you try to fix everyone else’s life but your own.”
“My life is fine.”
“What was the name of your last date?”
“Ignatius Istobol.”
“Liar.” He set the bowl down. “You should get back into the dating pool.”
“I don’t like to swim.”
“Then at least tread water.”
She made a face. “You’ve been speaking to Mom.”
“She has a point.”
“What’s the name of your last date?”
He hesitated then said, “Fiona.”
She paused. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“I thought you said Fiona.”
“I did.”
Brenna shook her head, her voice firm. “No.”
His eyes widened. “What do you mean ‘No’?”
“As your older sister I forbid you to get back with her.”
“Forbid me?” Stephen laughed then went and got more food.
“I’m not joking.”
He returned to the carpet and pretended to ignore her.
Bren
na wouldn’t let him. She tapped him on the shoulder. “She’s all wrong for you.”
“And who is right for me?”
“You’re going to spill your food.”
He set the bowl down. “And who is right for me?” he repeated. He suddenly waved his hands before she could speak. “And don’t say it.”
“Say what?”
“Don’t say that woman’s name.” He pointed a finger at her. “I’ve told you before I’m not interested.”
Brenna sighed. “I don’t know why you won’t give her a chance.”
“And I don’t know why you would want to match me up with your crazy next door neighbor.”
She stiffened. “Tima is not crazy.”
“Does it escape you that her name sounds like a skin disease? You have psoriasis and Timandra.”
“I think she has a beautiful name.”
He picked up his bowl. “And she paints walls.”
“She occasionally creates murals, but she also—”
“I don’t care.”
“Stephen—”
“I’m not good with women anyway.”
Brenna briefly raised her eyes to the ceiling. “The ultimate cop out answer.”
“Fiona knows me and understands me. It works.”
“You’ve been married four years and separated twice. This last time is your path to freedom. You need to get a divorce. If you want to stay in touch, then be friends.”
“The sex is nice too.”
“Forget about the sex.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think I can. It’s too good.”
“There must be something else you can do to occupy yourself.”
“Not much. Or nothing I’d want to discuss with my sister.”
“You shouldn’t be in a relationship just for sex.”
He began to grin. “Oh, I get it now.”
“What?”
“Ignatius Istobol is the name of your vibrator.”
Brenna playfully hit her brother on the back of the head. “No, it’s not.”
“It has another name?”
“It doesn’t have a name.”
“So you do have a vibrator?”
Brenna resisted placing her hands around his neck. “We’re not talking about that. We’re talking about you and women.”
He shook his head. “No need. I have one. That’s fine with me.”
“Are you afraid to get divorced?”
“Not afraid. I just want to work on my marriage a little more than our parent’s did. I don’t want to be part of the statistics if I can help it.”
“But it’s not working.”
“I can make it work in time.”
“And if you can’t?”
He shrugged.
Brenna stirred her stew then set it down. She couldn’t understand why such a handsome man would settle for a woman so wrong for him. “You’re a good looking guy and you have a lot to offer.”
“A lot to offer?” he scoffed. “I’m an electrician. That doesn’t seem to impress a lot of women.”
“You’re more than an electrician. You are a lighting artist. You should try starting your own company.”
“I don’t want the hassle. What do you have against Fiona anyway? I thought you liked her.”
“I do like her except...” She stopped. “Forget it.”
“Tell me.”
Brenna shook her head. “No. You’ll get upset.”
Stephen put his plate aside and sat on the couch. Brenna knew that was a bad sign. It meant he was in his stubborn mood. “Tell me.”
“She’s safe.”
“What’s wrong with safe?”
Brenna chewed her lip. “You’re getting angry.”
“I’m not getting angry.” Stephen’s tone dropped. “What’s wrong with safe?”
“It’s just that you don’t exert any effort in your life from your job to your social life. You don’t take risks.”
“And you do?” He sniffed. “Byron didn’t seem very risky to me. You couldn’t choose any safer than him.”
“I’m different.”
“Why?”
She stood and grabbed her handbag. “Never mind. I’d better go.”
“You think your feelings are more fragile because you have a lame leg?”
She walked to the door.
He followed, “I’m right, aren’t I?”
She swung the door open. “No, what you are is a jerk.”
“Why?” He slammed the door closed. “Because I don’t let you use your leg as an excuse?”
“Because you refuse to believe that it is.” Her voice broke. “You don’t understand—”
“Oh I understand big sister, more than you give me credit for. You think I didn’t hear the taunts? Hell, I got them too. Sometimes I was embarrassed of you. For you. You were the kid people tripped in the hall, the freak, the outcast.”
His words caused a tender wound to bleed a little as the memories came forth in her mind. “I’m sorry my existence was such a burden to you,” she said in a cool tone. “However, you weren’t the only one. Mom and Dad weren’t too thrilled with me either.” She opened the door again.
Stephen grabbed her arm. “Wait a minute.”
Brenna snatched her arm away. “No. I’m ready to go.”
He grabbed her from behind and held her. “Stop.”
She struggled against him. “Let me go.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice deep with regret.
“I don’t care.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“So what? Let me go.”
“Not until you believe me.”
Brenna stopped struggling, feeling the weight of his strength; the weight of his remorse. “You’re going to make me cry.”
“Then cry. There’s no shame in it. I don’t think you let yourself cry enough.”
She let her gaze fall.
He kissed the back of her head. “I didn’t mean it, Brennie,” he said using her childhood name. “I—”
“Yes, you did,” she said, steeling herself against his gentleness for fear that he would know how much it hurt. “I don’t blame you. I was embarrassed of myself.”
He released her. “I want you to sit down so that we can start again.”
She opened the door. He closed it. She scowled up at him; he smiled. “You’re not very smart if you actually think you’ll win this.”
“The day you were born I knew you’d be a pest.”
He jerked his head towards the couch. “I suggest you take a seat over there.”
Brenna met his eyes then spun away. “You’re just like him,” she said disgusted.
“Who?”
She folded her arms and sat. “Nobody.”
Stephen sat beside her. “Brenna, I was angry and my words were foolish.”
“It’s okay.” She moved restlessly tired of the topic, the past was over. She was a success now and knew what she was talking about. “I’m not sorry about what I said about Fiona.” She shook her head. “I don’t think she’s good enough for you.”
The corner of his mouth quirked in a cynical grin. “She’s pretty, sweet and smart, but she’s not good enough for me? However, that Amazon woman with the weird name is?”
Brenna took a deep breath, trying to be patient. “Yes, I’m a matchmaker.”
“Your computer is a matchmaker.”
That was true, but only partially. A large part of her success also depended on her intuition, a skill she’d developed over the years. At times she didn’t even need the expertly designed computer program, but it made her clients feel comfortable. “I know about these things. Take a risk. You’re feeling lonely that’s all. Don’t fall into the same trap just because Fiona is there.”
Stephen lowered his head a moment then met her gaze. “I love her.”
Brenna hesitated then said, “I think you’re afraid not to. Would you risk not loving her?”
Stephen’s voice became quiet.
“What risks have you taken?”
She didn’t reply for a long moment then said, “I asked Byron to marry me.”
His eyes widened. “I didn’t know that.”
“Nobody did because he said no.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
He thought for a moment then nodded. “Oh yea, I know. He’s a stupid prick.”
“That’s not true. He’s not stupid.”
Stephen smiled. “So you’re over him?”
“Doesn’t matter, the point is I took a risk.”
“So that means you’ll never take a risk again?”
“We’re not talking about me.”
He slid to the floor and grabbed his bowl. “Right. Your life is off limits, but mine is open to advice.”
“All I’m trying to say is that I went after what I wanted.”
“You always do.”
“And so should you.”
“Why? I basically have what I want whether you believe it or not.” He looked down at his stew, trying to look innocent although his words were not. “So what’s the name of the guy I just reminded you of?”
She stiffened. “I told you, it’s nobody.”
He turned to her. “I know his name isn’t Nobody so what is it?”
She sighed. “Hunter Randolph. A strange man who stormed into my office yesterday and wanted to use me as a fake fiancée.”
“Why?”
“Because he was high on hallucinogens.” She threw up her hands. “How would I know? He thinks I ruined his life because I matched up a woman he’d planned to marry.” She waved a dismissive hand. “The story is ridiculous. Besides he was suppose to come back today and he didn’t so I think he came to his senses.”
Stephen narrowed his eyes. “And you wish he hadn’t?”
Brenna shifted , feeling awkward. “Doesn’t matter what I think.”
He raised a brow. “I think you liked him.”
“He was a very attractive man.” She paused thoughtful. “A man like him on my roster would certainly help business.”
“Business had nothing to do with your interest in him.” Stephen adjusted his position and patted her on the knee. “You’re a matchmaker. When are you going match yourself up?”
“I don’t have a match.”
“It’s not like you to sound cynical.”
“Practical. I have high standards.”
“Standards you set so high on purpose to make sure no mortal man can reach them.”
