Person from Washington: "Hey. I know it's late. I'm sorry. I'm just jacked on caffeine and I'm bored."
The only person it could be was Brit, but I couldn't figure out what would possess her to text something like that or where she would have gotten my cell number at 1AM. Another text came in, answering at least one of my questions.
Person from Washington: "It's me, Brit."
Me: "Why are you so jacked? And how'd you get my number?"
She didn't respond for a full five minutes. Right about the time when I thought she might not respond at all, my phone lit up again.
Brit: "Sorry if you're upset that I have your phone number. It wasn't very hard to obtain. Sad that I had to go asking though."
She included an emoji that was a smiley face with its tongue out. I read the message a few times. I was pretty sure she was saying she wished I'd given her my number when she was here a week ago. This was all very confusing to me because she didn't act like she wanted anything to do with me after we slept together.
I decided to go for a clean slate.
Me: "Well I'm glad you're resourceful. You never answered my question about being so jacked in the middle of the night."
Brit: "I know, I'm sorry, it was a terrible time to text, I just had a really good gig tonight and I'm all pumped about it. I should've probably stayed out a little longer to wear myself out, but I felt like coming home. My roommate's not here, so I was wide-awake and maybe a little scared. I stole your business card from Gretchen's last week, and it was just sitting here staring at me. Anyway, I couldn't think of anyone else to text. Sorry"
Me: "Don't be sorry. Tell me about your gig."
Brit: "It was at this bar we've been playing at regularly. I don't know, I feel like we're sounding good as a band right now, and every time we play we're getting better and better."
Me: "That doesn't surprise me at all. I'm looking forward to having you closer so I can come watch you play."
Brit: "I won't have a band when I move, so it'll probably be a while before I try to get a gig. Unless it's a solo gig at a coffee shop or something."
Me: "I love coffee shops."
Brit: "Haha. Especially their restrooms."
I smiled at the memory of cornering her in that dark hallway.
Me: "You know it. I think everyone should experience dark coffee shop hallways. Btw, why are you scared?"
Brit: "I hate being alone in the dark. That's why I'm so glad I'm moving in at Gretchen's instead of finding a random apartment."
Me: "I heard about that. Ethan and Emily put an offer in on a house yesterday."
Brit: "I know, Emily told me. She's stoked."
I got up to piss, and when I got back, I had another text.
Brit: "Why are you up so late? Been out?"
Me: "I'm sitting motionless in a recliner while my body recovers from a Muay Thai thing I had at the gym today. I'm spacing out watching Big Lebowski."
Brit: "Calmer than you are, Dude."
She was quoting from one of my all time favorite movies, which was incredibly hot.
Me: "I can get you a toe by four o'clock this afternoon, with polish."
Brit: "You don't want to go there with me, mister. I'll win. I know the whole thing by heart."
Me: "That's hot."
Brit: "You're funny."
Me: "Do you have any art for sale? I want to buy something for my apartment."
Brit: "I'm looking at one I've been working on for a long time. It's almost done, and it's probably the best thing I've ever done."
Me: "Sounds like something I've got to have. How much?"
Brit: "I didn't say it was for sale."
Me: "You told me about it when I asked if you had anything for sale. That's the same as saying it's for sale. How much?"
Brit: "I hate taking money from people, especially friends."
Me: "You've got to get used to it. How much for the favorite painting?"
Brit: "I don't know. I'll think about it. You probably wouldn't like it anyway. It's all rainbow, fractal, tie-dye, and I know that's not really your thing."
Me: "Stop trying to talk me out of it. You said you love it and that's good enough for me. Rainbow, fractal, tie-dye is my favorite color anyway. I was hoping you'd say that. Name your price, and bring it down with you when you move. Do you need help moving, by the way?"
Brit: "I'll consider it spoken for, then, if you insist. It's big, though, so be prepared for that."
Me: "I have nothing but open walls, but I guess you knew that already. Let me know if you need help moving."
Brit: "Thanks! (For the painting and the offer about moving.) A couple of my friends from up here offered to help me out, but it's nice to know you're willing just in case they fall through."
We had a few more exchanges before she told me she was sorry again for texting so late, and wanted to let me go so I could get to bed. Our whole string of text had been more friendly than romantic, but at least she was opening a line of communication. For the past week, I'd been assuming she regretted sleeping with me and would probably go on ignoring me forever.
I asked her if I could use the number to text her again sometime, and she said she thought I'd never ask. That made me smile. The last text she sent was a video from her gig earlier that night. It was footage someone in the audience had taken of her on stage with her band. I watched it all the way through before sending one last text saying she was a rock star. She sent an emoji of a blushing smiley face and wrote, "Aw shucks."
I didn't respond to that last one. I watched the video of her song one last time before I put the phone down. Then I fell asleep smiling at the thought of Brit knowing quotes from The Big Lebowski.
Chapter 17
Brit
Last night after my gig, I sent Josh a random text. Not only did I take his business card without permission, but then I also decided to use the number on it to text him in the middle of the night. I was wide-awake and slightly scared, so I did it on a whim. Thankfully, Josh was really friendly with his response. I'm not sure how I would have handled it if he hadn't been. We went back-and-forth, texting quite a few times, and somehow during the course of it, I'd agreed to sell him my favorite work in progress when I was done with it. He seemed genuinely interested in owning a piece of my art, and that made me feel so happy. He also said something that made me realize we had similar taste in movies. That gave me hope that we might not be as opposite as I once thought.
We had a few strikes against us (including the fact that he had no idea I even liked him) but I had a good feeling things might just work out between us. Because of that feeling I couldn't even imagine charging him for a painting. I thought it was peculiar that I would have no problem selling a painting to Rachel, Gretchen, Bailey, Zack, or any of our other friends, but I couldn't bear the thought of selling anything to Josh. It was weird, but I sort of had the feeling Josh's stuff might end up being my stuff in the long run anyway. Maybe I just had a crush and that's what I wanted to happen. Either way I wouldn't be selling him the painting, I'd be giving it to him.
****
Weeks passed. I'd been texting Josh quite a bit. At first our exchanges were extremely cautious, with only the vaguest of flirtations, but lately, we'd been texting more often, and dropping more and more hints about our feelings. At least that's what I thought was going on. Each of us was still holding something back, but I figured that was understandable considering everything in his past. I hoped the walls created by his divorce wouldn't loom over us forever.
It was Thanksgiving, and I had plans to celebrate it with some fellow artists at the home of one of our favorite professors. They were a wild bunch, and the Thanksgiving dinner itself was always a little wacky, but we always had a blast. Thanksgiving at Dr. Cartwright's would probably turn out to be one of the things I missed most about Seattle.
Trevor and I rode together as we did every year. We were the first guests to arrive even though we showed up right on time. I brought a seven-lay
er dip with some tortilla chips and Trevor brought two boxes of these organic, gluten-free, frozen éclairs he picked up at a health food store on the way to my apartment. We each brought a bottle of wine to share.
Mrs. Cartwright was cooking an actual turkey this year. Last year she tried a tofu turkey, and even though most of us were vegetarians, we would sooner eat a real turkey then choke down some more of that terrible turkey-shaped tofu she made last year. She informed us that they would have plenty of veggie burgers to throw on the grill, but she wanted to cook a real turkey. And hey, it was my last Thanksgiving meal at the Cartwright's—maybe I'd even do something totally off the wall like take a bite of real turkey. People started showing up right after Trevor and me, and we all gathered around the kitchen talking and laughing like we did every year.
"Trevor, I heard your thumb has fans," our friend Lou said.
"Yep," Trevor said. "I'm thinking about getting it it's own twitter account." He raised his hand into the air so everyone could see the infamous thumb. "It's all because of Brit," he said. "During the middle of one of her shows, she brought me up on stage to do my thumb trick for the audience, and the YouTube video from that night has fifty thousand views."
"It sounds like your shows are going really well sweetheart," Mrs. Cartwright said, looking at me. "Alan and I will have to go see you play sometime before you leave."
"We only have one more gig and it's next Saturday night," I told her. "My parents are coming and I'd love for you to meet them."
There was no official commencement ceremony for the students graduating in December. Those of us finishing in the fall were invited to walk in the ceremony that would take place next spring, but I wasn't planning on coming back for that. I knew my parents wouldn't have a chance to meet Dr. Cartwright if it didn't happen at the show next Saturday, so I was happy that he and his wife wanted to try and make it. Pretty much everyone in the room, including the Cartwrights agreed at that point that they would all try to come to my last show, and I figured it would be a pretty emotional night because of that. I was already trying to talk myself into believing that I could get through it without being a big baby.
"So what side show act are you having on stage this week?" Trevor asked.
I laughed. "I'll probably ask three or four to come up this time since it's the last gig," I said. Lou was looking at both of us as if she was ticked she had no idea what we were talking about.
"The audience seemed to enjoy Trevor's thumb trick so much that I've sort of made it a tradition at the show to have one or two people come up on stage to show their weird or amazing talents. Most of the time it's just people who are double-jointed like Trev, but I had a sword swallower one time and one guy who could snap bottle caps across the room and hit a small target."
"I should have known Brit's act would morph into a circus freak show," Lou said. She meant it as a compliment, and I took it as one. I was really going to miss my Seattle freaks when I moved to L.A. I hoped when I finally found my way back to gigging that my new audience would be willing to come up on stage and show me their cool tricks.
"When are you moving exactly, Brit?" Dr. Cartwright asked.
"Two weeks from Saturday," I answered.
"Not wasting any time, are you?" he asked.
Trevor shook his head in disappointment. "I tried to talk her into staying for Christmas, but she's antsy to get outta here."
"It's not like that," I said defensively. "I'm sad about going, but it's better when it's quick, like a Band-Aid."
I didn't say that I was extremely anxious to see Josh and find out if we had something with each other. I had a quick flashback of Josh and his apartment, wearing nothing but those blue and orange boxer briefs. I was fond of those striped boxers, and I felt some regret about not stealing them from Josh when I was at his house.
"What are you smiling at?" Trevor asked.
"Thinking about what stupid human tricks we'll have next week," I lied.
"You can have me up there," Lou said, "I can lick my own elbow."
"That's not impossible," our friend Maria said. "It's pretty rare, but it's not unheard of for someone to be able to lick their own elbow."
"Well obviously it's possible if I just told you that I can do it," Lou said, "but I bet no one else in that bar would be able to do it." She cut Maria the evil eye. "It's more rare than Maria's giving me credit for."
"Rare is what I'm looking for," I said. "I'll totally have you up on stage to lick your elbow if you want to."
Lou agreed and that got everyone else talking about what sideshow trick they could drum up before next Saturday. We shared some meatless hippie dishes, and a real turkey. I let myself have a delicious mouthful of that turkey when no one was looking. Actually, Mrs. Cartwright was looking. She was the one who offered it to me, and she knew I had to sneak it. Not that anyone would have given me a hard time—actually, the only person I was worried about disappointing was Trevor. He was a second-degree vegan with an emphasis on raw foods. The dessert he brought tonight was all-natural, vegan, and he considered it totally cheating to eat that. My little vegetarianism was child's play compared to Trevor. I was pretty disciplined, but I totally cheated sometimes (like tonight). Trevor, on the other hand, never cheated.
After dinner at the Cartwrights, Trevor drove me home. He decided to come inside instead of just dropping me off. I was thankful that he did because my roommate Kerry was out of town spending Thanksgiving with her family. Trevor would probably end up sleeping on the couch. It was not uncommon for him to do that if my roommate wasn't home. He knew I hated to be alone and didn't mind crashing at my place. He kept a few changes of clothes in my bottom drawer and a toothbrush in my bathroom just in case.
Nothing had ever happened between Trevor and me. It had been several months since Lou tried to tell me Trevor had feelings for me, and while I did pick up on a few things now and then, Trevor never did or said anything that made me feel uncomfortable.
We decided to go ahead and shower so we could watch a movie in comfort. Trevor went into my kitchen to pop some popcorn. "Where's your coconut oil?" he asked.
"Don't pop it in coconut oil," I said. "That makes it taste funny."
"It does not. You can't even tell the difference," he said.
"Yes I can, Trev. Please don't use it. I can totally taste it and I don't like it."
Trevor grabbed the smart balance canola oil out of the cabinet, and I smiled in smug satisfaction.
"We sound like a married couple," he said, smiling over the pot on the stove.
These were the types of things he would say. Nothing too forward, just little hints at some underlying tensions I might not have been aware of before. I didn't respond to his comment. I opted to stare at the bookshelf, looking like I was choosing a movie for us to watch.
"You know it's not a bad idea," he continued. I closed my eyes hoping against hope that I wasn't going to be forced into having a conversation about feelings.
"What about The Big Lebowski?" I asked, holding up the case.
"We just watched that last week," he said. "You're changing the subject on purpose, Brit, and I think it's just because you're afraid to admit we're perfect for each other."
A wave of anxious nausea hit me at his words. Was he really confronting me with this? I decided to try my luck at laughing it off to see if he'd drop it.
"We're too much alike," I said, laughing a little. "We'd morph into the same person."
I paused to see how he was going to react. He didn't say anything, just stared at me. Finally, he spoke, breaking the awkward silence.
"Would we call ourself Trit? Or Brever?" I cracked up laughing. He thought I was laughing at his joke, but it was more like relief that I had gotten out of the conversation.
It wasn't that I didn't like Trevor or think he was an attractive person. In fact I thought he was a really handsome guy, it was just that I had no chemistry with him whatsoever. And I knew first hand what chemistry was because I had it with Josh.<
br />
I let myself daydream about Josh for a few seconds while Trevor finished with the popcorn. He divided it into two boles and poured a little salt on mine. He was walking toward the living room with both bowls of popcorn and hand when he lifted one, gesturing to the far wall where I had a few canvases propped up.
"By the way, I want that one," he said. "It's you on a canvas, and I want it. I don't care how much you want for it. I'll get on a payment plan if I have to."
He was talking about the huge work in progress I'd already promised to Josh. Again, I felt a wave of anxiousness. I couldn't believe I was going to have to let him down about the painting only seconds after I blew off his almost-sincere wedding proposal. I had no idea what to say. Part of me wanted to just agree for now, thinking I could deal with going back on my word and disappointing him later, but I knew that was just wrong. Giving it to Trevor was actually an option, though. Josh hadn't seen it, and wouldn't know the difference if I painted him another between now and then.
Still, I knew what Trevor was saying when he said "it was me on canvas". I felt more connected to this piece than anything else I'd ever painted, and because of that, I wanted Josh to have it. I had to think fast or Trevor would pick up on my feelings on the subject. I gave him a regretful look.
"Oh, my God, Trevor. I had no idea you liked that one. I already sold it."
"You're kidding! Who's even seen it?"
"It's a friend of a friend in L.A. I was talking about it one time, and he bought it sight unseen."
"Seriously?" Trevor asked. He was impressed because he knew how hard it was to sell art.
"Well, has he seen it?" Trevor asked. "Because you could totally paint a similar one and do the old switch-a-roo."
I was so glad I'd already had that thought because the lie came easy. "I sent photos," I said.
Mind the Gap (In Too Deep) Page 12
