by Erin Duffy
Go figure.
“I THINK HE’S here,” Lissy squealed as she backed away from the empty store window, finally seeming like the twentysomething girl she was instead of the staid Goth woman she pretended to be. She’d been trying to fake-clean the space with a broom for the last twenty minutes, waiting for Fred to arrive. She leaned the broom against the window just as he opened the door and stepped inside.
“Hey,” he said. He leaned over and quickly kissed my cheek, which immediately caused me to blush. “It’s good to see you again. I’m so happy this worked out. You look very nice.”
“Thanks, thanks for meeting me here. This is my friend Lissy,” I said. Lissy took a step closer to me and clasped her hands demurely in front of her, like she was meeting someone’s parents and not someone’s second date.
“Hi, Lissy, I’m Fred. It’s nice to meet you.” Fred didn’t seem like he was trying too hard. He didn’t seem like he was trying at all, which must be nice.
“So you’re the guy she picked up in the train station?” Lissy asked. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“That’s me. Unless she’s picked up more than one guy in a train station,” Fred answered.
“Hard to say with her. She’s so secretive about everything.”
“Very funny,” I said. “I’ll have you know that you’re the only person I’ve ever met in a train station. I met all of the other guys at either the grocery store or the ATM vestibule at the Citibank in town. You were an anomaly.”
“Lucky me,” Fred said with a smile as he looked around the store. I wasn’t sure if he was saying that sincerely or sarcastically, and it was an important distinction because one was really nice and one was really obnoxious and I wasn’t interested in an obnoxious accountant named Fred even if the alternative was spending the rest of my life alone.
“You said it,” Lissy agreed. I liked that she was looking out for me. I felt like she was the only person in town who really cared about what happened to me, which was weird because I hadn’t known her all that long.
“I’m sorry I haven’t thought of a name for the store yet. I’ve been trying, but it’s not that easy! You need something fun, and hip, and punchy that also reflects you. It’s hard to come up with something that wraps everything up perfectly. You need people to like you, and like the store, and want to shop here, and it needs to be short enough to fit on the new awning. I want it to be perfect.”
“I don’t care if people like me. I’ve never cared about what people thought about me. The haters can all kiss my ass as far as I’m concerned.”
“Wait. Why can’t you use that?” Fred asked.
“With all due respect, Fred, Kiss My Ass might actually be worse than The Stationer. I don’t think that’s really going to get people through the door,” I said.
“Yeah, I know that. Thanks for that staggeringly helpful advice!” Fred answered, teasing me for thinking he’d be that stupid, which I actually kind of liked and immediately put me at ease. Unless, of course, he was being condescending, in which case it would immediately put me on edge. I wasn’t sure which one he was aiming for, so I found myself in emotional limbo. I forgot how much I hated dating. “The kiss part. I’m assuming that’s your thing, right? Red lipstick?” he asked.
“Why do you say that?” Lissy answered suspiciously. I had a feeling that Lissy was someone who had had her fair share of bullying over the years, and her first reaction to criticism was to assume she was being mocked.
“You’re wearing bloodred lipstick. You don’t seem like you’re shy about your lips.”
“No, I guess not,” Lissy answered.
“You shouldn’t be. You look great,” Fred added, and it didn’t seem creepy, just a genuine compliment. I saw Lissy relax.
“Thank you. I always wear it. I don’t even recognize myself without it.”
“I feel that way about Gwen Stefani. I don’t recognize her without her red lipstick either,” I said.
“You should combine your lips with something that’s relevant to sending correspondence,” Fred suggested.
“Like what?” we both asked.
“What about Sealed with a Kiss?” Fred said with a shrug.
“Oh my God,” Lissy said. “How did I not think of that?”
“It’s perfect,” I admitted. I had no idea why the two of us weren’t able to come up with it, but it took Fred six minutes after meeting Lissy to nail the name of her new store. What was even more strange was that I was kind of proud that he came up with it, and wanted to elbow Lissy in the side like a schoolgirl and say, “See how great my boyfriend is?” Except he wasn’t my boyfriend, or even my friend, and if he called me crazy even once today he’d be my nothing whatsoever. Sigh.
“I could use a lip print as my logo, as if I had kissed the paper myself!”
“That’s kind of creepy, isn’t it?” I asked.
“Yeah, just a little. That’s why it’s kind of awesome,” Lissy said.
“You’re not actually going to kiss the paper, though, right?” It seemed like a silly question, but I was sure that when Lissy said she wanted the solar system represented in her earlobe, people thought she was joking, too.
“Can I make a suggestion?” Fred asked before Lissy could answer. I had to make sure to remember to circle back to it.
“Sure,” Lissy said. “After that suggestion I’m happy to hear anything you have to say.”
“I think you need a face-lift.”
“What did you just say to me?” Lissy asked. I watched as Fred heard his own words in his head and shock registered on his face. This would be interesting.
“No! Not you! The store! Sorry, I wasn’t clear. The store needs a face-lift. Your actual face is just fine.”
“Just fine?” Lissy asked. “Gee, thanks.”
“More than fine. It’s beautiful,” he stammered.
“Are you hitting on my friend right in front of me? Who does that?” I asked.
“Oh my God,” he moaned.
“Relax, Fred,” Lissy said as she broke into a smile. “I know what you meant.”
“So did I,” I agreed. “It was just too easy.”
Fred laughed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant the store could use a little improving.”
“We’ve determined that already, but the budget is a little thin,” Lissy said.
“I could help you,” he offered, casually, like it was no big deal. It was a big deal. It was a very big deal.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You don’t need much. The place is small. I think if you ripped up this carpeting it would make a big difference. The stripes are kind of aggressive for a small space. I think it’s making it look smaller than it is.”
“I wanted to have the floors painted, actually,” Lissy informed him. She walked over behind the counter and ran her hands along the glass case. “I think they’d look really great if they were painted a bright color. That’s what my mom and I always talked about doing, but I don’t have the budget for that right now.”
“If you want, I can do it for you. I could ask a buddy to help me rip up the carpeting and I could bring over my drum sander, no problem.”
“You have a drum sander?” I asked, about to pitch forward onto the striped carpeted floor. He might as well have just revealed he spoke Portuguese or used to live in a rain forest. I had no idea what a drum sander was, or why he was offering to use it on Lissy’s floors when he barely knew me and didn’t know her at all, but it sounded like something we would definitely need. In fact, I didn’t know how we’d survived this long without one. “Sure,” he replied, like that was a stupid question.
“You say that like everyone has that kind of stuff. They don’t. I didn’t know that you were a Bob Vila kind of guy.”
“I told you my father and my brother are in construction. Just because I don’t work with them doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two. My father taught me how to do a lot of things. I wouldn’t attempt
to rewire this place, but sanding, painting, that stuff is easy. I’m happy to help you.”
“You’d do that?” I asked, completely incredulous that Fred was offering to help just because he felt like being a nice guy. Were a lot of guys like this? Is that what it was like to be in a normal healthy grown-up relationship? So many questions, and so little time to answer them because my brain was still swimming in the knowledge that Fred was going to help with her renovation because he had a drum sander and because he might actually like me at least a little bit even if he still worried that I might be nuts. This was all so hard to believe.
“I can definitely help. When are you planning on reopening?”
“The weekend after Labor Day and it’s almost July. Do we still have time?”
“You have plenty of time, but you should start figuring out what you want the place to look like. I’m happy to help you out. I actually like doing that kind of stuff.”
“Wow,” I said. “You might be the nicest guy alive, Fred.”
“I don’t know what to say. You can have free stationery for life,” Lissy offered.
“You guys are easy to please,” he said.
“I know we just met, and I don’t mean to be greedy, but do you think you’d be able to install a new awning for us above the door, too?” I asked.
“If I say no, are you going to assault me with a letter opener?” Fred asked.
“Maybe,” I answered. Still confused. Still very, very confused.
“Then I should probably say yes. Where is it?” Fred asked.
“We don’t have it yet, because the store didn’t have a name until five minutes ago. I can order it right now and it will be here in three to four weeks!” I grabbed my phone and pulled up the commercial canopy website that I’d bookmarked for Lissy. In five minutes, Fred had turned all of our lights green, and I felt like we were finally able to move the big pieces into place. I filled out the online form, entered my credit card, and submitted my order. Just like that, a commercial canopy would soon be coming our way, and it was all because I’d decided to get a facial on Owen’s credit card and then picked up a guy in Grand Central Terminal.
“It’s official,” I said. “We have a name, and an awning, and a general contractor who’s willing to work for free. Now all I have to do is sign S.W.A.K. up on all the social media platforms and start hashtagging this place into oblivion, and we’ll be in business! Well, first we need to reopen the business, and then we’ll be in business.”
“Is this really happening? We really are going to have a new awning and new floors, for the newly named store, just like that? Those were the big problems that have been hanging over my head, and I didn’t have any idea how to fix them. Did you really just come in here and solve all of the remaining problems?”
“Looks that way,” Fred agreed. “I must be one hell of a guy.”
“You said it,” Lissy agreed. “If you weren’t having lunch with Claire, I’d ask you to lunch myself and you’re not even my type. No offense,” Lissy said. She gave Fred a quick hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She sighed. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“You’re welcome. Now, speaking of lunch, Claire, are you ready to go?”
“I am, except I don’t know where to go. I’d rather not go to the oyster bar, if that’s okay.”
“I don’t like oysters anyway. Fine by me,” Fred said. He just kept getting better and better. Next he’d tell me that he hates purple lingerie and real estate agents and then I’d have no choice but to propose.
“The pizza place around the corner is really good,” Lissy suggested. “Why don’t you go there? They have tables in the back.”
“And plastic utensils,” I added. “So you can be sure of your safety.”
“Nah, I’m not worried. I’m betting that you’ve gotten out most of your aggression for the time being.”
“If not for life,” I said.
“I’m good for pizza if you are,” Fred said.
“Pizza sounds perfect.”
Fred opened the door for me and we walked around the corner to grab pizza for lunch—a most unlikely pair that somehow seemed to fit just right.
“SO, SHOULD WE address the elephant in the room now, or do you want to wait until after a slice of pepperoni?” I asked as I carried my two slices of pizza on a red plastic tray over to a small booth in the corner next to the refrigerator case that held nineteen different kinds of soda and a few bottles of water. Fred slid into the booth across from me and sprinkled red pepper flakes on top of his slice. “I still can’t believe I didn’t scare you away.”
“Like I said, I think everyone handles the stress of divorce differently, and that night obviously didn’t go well for you.”
“No, it didn’t. But I don’t want to have to relive it for the rest of my life. I’d like to not talk about it again after today if that’s okay,” I said, then caught myself. “Assuming that we ever talk again after today. Which we may not. I get that, too.”
Fred smiled. “I was having a nice time up until that point and I have to admire your passion and your spunk. You’re not a wallflower. That’s not a bad thing. You just need to rein it in a little . . . or a lot.”
“Yeah, here’s the thing about me. There are two kinds of crazy girls in the world.”
“I’m pretty sure there are more than two kinds,” he interrupted.
“No, hear me out. There’s the good crazy kind and the bad crazy kind. I’m the good crazy kind.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“I understand your skepticism. Allow me to explain,” I said.
“Okay.”
“The good crazy kind is the kind that will make you laugh, and keep things interesting, and pretend you insulted her and her friend when you accidentally tell her she needs a face-lift. The bad crazy kind will slash your tires and hack your Facebook.”
“And you’re the good crazy kind.”
“Right,” I said. It didn’t seem necessary to admit that I’d also hacked Owen’s Facebook, because I’d already admitted that that wasn’t a good idea and didn’t plan on doing it ever again. No one has to admit all of their mistakes on the second date . . . or ever.
“Okay, but I would argue that the bad crazy kind think they’re the good crazy kind because they don’t have the self-awareness necessary to know that they’re nuts. So all crazies think they’re good crazy, and no one thinks they’re bad crazy, so how am I supposed to be comforted by your explanation?”
“Excellent question. You’ll just have to go with your gut.”
“And my gut is both intrigued and terrified. So you see, I’m at a crossroads.”
“I get that, and I don’t want you to think that I’m a loose cannon. But, I also don’t want to harp on it because to be honest, I think we’ve spent enough time talking about divorce since we met, and I much prefer the conversation we were having about s’mores instead. Just know that I’m embarrassed and that it’s not something that’s happened before. I’m sorry I did that to you. I feel terrible, and that’s all I can really say.”
“I think there were more than a few women in that restaurant who would’ve stood up and applauded you for having the guts to do that to your ex. I’m sure most women fantasize about doing something like that.”
“That’s sad, isn’t it?”
“Definitely, but it’s still true.”
“So you’re willing to accept the possibility that I’m not a total psycho?”
“I think so. As of now. But I reserve the right to change my mind if you start to show signs of crossing over to the dark side.”
“I can live with that.”
“Then should we pick up where we left off?”
“Ski houses and s’mores?”
“Where all good stories begin.”
“What do you like to do on your weekends? I know you own a drum sander, and I know that you can do some basic construction work and some more-than-basic mathematics, but
what do you do when you’re not doing either of those things?”
“I run a lot. I’ve run the New York City Marathon twice and I like to play tennis, and water ski, and rock climb. I like to be outside. I think I spend so much time at my desk during the day that if I’m given the opportunity to be outdoors I usually like to take it.”
“You rock climb? Like up mountains? That scares me to death. How do you do that?”
“It’s not scary! It’s totally invigorating. You really get to appreciate the beauty of nature when you’re above it looking down. The vantage point is like nothing you’ve ever seen. You should really think about trying it sometime.”
“I don’t think climbing mountains is in my future, but then again, I didn’t think most of what’s now in my future was in my future until a few months ago. So, who knows?”
“You might surprise yourself someday,” Fred offered.
“Maybe. But until then, I’m all for doing things outside, but on the ground. Had I known this about you I would’ve suggested we take our pizza to the park and have a picnic instead.”
“I’m a big fan of pizza picnics,” Fred admitted. “With beers. There’s nothing wrong with my soda, but can we both agree that pizza really should be consumed with a beer?” he asked as he picked up his paper cup and took a sip of his Coke through a straw.
“Agreed. Though I’d say beer or wine. If it’s cold outside is there anything better than deep-dish Chicago pizza and a big glass of red? I’ll save you the trouble of answering, the answer is no. There’s not.”
“I don’t like deep-dish pizza. I need to put that out there off the bat because I know for someone from Chicago that can be a deal breaker. Pizza shouldn’t be eaten with a knife and fork.”
