Love from Amanda to Zoey

by Ian Mark

  “You boys might want to consider spliffing that,” I called as I walked across the street. A moving van was pulling out. My mother stood on the corner, impatiently tapping her foot. I went over to greet her. Without a word, she took the cigarette and threw it on the ground.

  “C’mon, mom.”

  “It’s good to see you too, sweetie.” She opened her arms. I stepped into them. She hugged me. When I stepped back, she was holding the rest of the pack.

  “Don’t.” She poured them on the ground, looking me in the eyes while she did so. “I get it, alright? You’re welcome, by the way.”

  “Thank you for helping me move in. In return, I’m going to help you quit smoking.”

  “I can’t wait.” The corners of her mouth turned up. She was wearing lipstick that was too red for someone her age. Her pantsuit seemed too large.

  “What are you dressed up for?” I bounced on the balls of my feet and looked around for a convenience store.

  “It’s not everyday you move to the Big Apple.” She smiled and waved her arms in the air, to make sure I knew which Big Apple she was referring to.

  “Don’t call it that. Only tourists from China and Texas call it that.” The movers came out and asked if we needed help unpacking the truck.

  “Of course, that’s what we hired you for.” I looked at my mother, incredulous.

  “No, actually, we can save a lot of money if we do it ourselves.” She grinned at me and thanked the man. He didn’t laugh. He had several day’s growth of beard covering his dark face. Or maybe for him it was a day’s growth. I stroked the space between my lips and chin where hair never grew. I wished I could grow a beard.

  “Oh, honey, beards are gross anyways.” My mother pinched my cheek. “We better get started.” She picked out the largest box and strained to lift it. When she did, she handed it to me. She then found the smallest box and picked it up with one hand.

  “Let’s go. I’m on the eighth floor.” I grunted. My back had already started to hurt.

  A few hours later, I dropped the last box on the marble countertop. It landed with a thud.

  “Careful with that. That’s the good china.” My mother had performed her self-anointed role of supervisor admirably. I was covered in sweat and sore. I stiffly half-walked, half-crawled to the softest looking box and sat on it. I looked at my phone. I had an hour to get home, shower, and meet Zoey. I crawled towards the door.

  “Where do you want to get dinner? I was thinking we could go to that place you were talking about. The Italian one.” I had no recollection of the conversation she was referring to.

  “I can’t eat with you, I have a date with Zoey.” My mother brightened. She was so proud of setting me up with a girl.

  “How is that going?” She took out her phone. She was one of the few people on the planet who still had a flip phone.

  “It’s alright.” I searched for a way to end the conversation. “But it won’t be if I’m late tonight.” I headed out the door.

  “Fine, I guess I’ll have to get Edward to meet me somewhere.” She didn’t seem willing to let the conversation end. I shut the door behind me. My back twinged, I cried out in pain.

  A painful twenty minutes later, I shuffled into my apartment. I searched for my bottle of Tylenol and took five. I showered sitting down. The hot water ran through my hair and down my face. I blew the water out.

  As I gently toweled off, I looked in the mirror. I looked half-decent. I still needed a haircut though. I gently slipped into a pair of jeans and gently put on a pink polo. I flexed my arms and watched them move in the mirror. I smoothed my hair down, then mussed it up. Then I smoothed it a different way. After about five minutes, I found a look I liked. I ran my hands over my cheeks and felt the stubble. Just the right amount, I decided. I spun in a circle and snapped my fingers. My back exploded. I grabbed the sink with both hands and looked up at myself. I shook my head slowly and left the bathroom. I grabbed my peacoat and slipped it on. While waiting for the elevator, I noticed it had some stain on it. I rubbed it off with my nail, then flicked whatever it was on the ground.

  While I walked to the Italian restaurant that I had picked out (Zoey had told me the onus was on me after she had managed to find the only caramel place in the Tri-state area for our first meeting), I rehearsed my opening lines. I rehearsed a few anecdotes that I could share. I rehearsed laughing at her spontaneous and relevant anecdotes that I was sure she would have regardless of the subject matter.

  I saw her seated at a table in the corner when I got there. It was a small place, consisting of two “rooms” that were only separated by a frame that came down from the ceiling for a foot or so and then receded. She was seated in the back, near the bar. The bar had a white marble countertop and high black chairs crafted out of thin metal. The tables were a similar style, with thin twisting metal covered by burgundy tablecloths. She waved. Her hair was down, and she was wearing an olive blouse that was more revealing than what she had worn for caramels. Her jeans were a deep dark blue, almost black. I pretended not to see her, and had a waiter lead me over. He was a suave Italian man who spoke with a thick accent. It sounded too strong to be real. I figured it was supposed to contribute to the illusion that we were dining in Florence or Rome rather than SoHo. I thanked him and looked at Zoey. She frowned. I stuck out a hand.

  “I’m Zach. It’s nice to finally meet you.” She didn’t laugh.

  “Oh, don’t do that. You can come up with something better, can’t you?” I sat down.

  “Well, then. There goes all the lines I rehearsed.” I sighed. She laughed.

  “See? That was funny. Not that cheesy pretend this is our first date all over again stuff. You’re funny when you stop thinking about what you say.”

  “Thank you? I think?” I took off my coat and folded it over the back of my chair.

  “That was a compliment.” She picked up the menu. “Let’s get drinks. I’ve had a long day.”

  “I’ll focus on the positive parts of it. And yeah, me too.” I signaled over the waiter. I opened my mouth.

  “Can we get a bottle of the house Pinot Grigio?” The words didn’t come from me. Zoey smiled at me as the waiter wrote down her order and took the wine list. “I hope you don’t mind, I’ve always wanted to do that.”

  “It’s fine. But if we’re smashing the patriarchy, you better pick up the check.” She smiled wider.

  “Well, I’m not completely opposed to chauvinism.” I snorted. I looked over the menu.

  “So if I’m not allowed to pretend this is our first date, I assume I can’t ask again what you do for a living?” I looked at her over the edge of my menu.

  “Well you wouldn’t, except you never asked me that last time.” She didn’t look up from her menu.

  “I didn’t?” I put down the menu.

  “It’s okay, you were just concerned with making sure I understood anti-humor.” I groaned and she laughed. “I’m a grad student at Columbia.” I stood up.

  “Well then, I think I better be going.” Her eyebrows raised and her mouth opened.

  “What, why?”

  “Us NYU Bobcats don’t mix with you highbrow types.” I sat back down. We giggled. Our wine arrived. I poured us each a glass. “What are you studying?”

  “Particle physics.” I looked up. A little wine spilled on the table. She studied my reaction carefully.

  “Wow, that’s impressive. There aren’t many women in physics, are there?”

  “No, but there are probably more than there are in computer science.” She took a sip of her wine. “Mmm, that’s good. I love wine.”

  “Touché,” I said. I racked my brain for what I remembered about particle physics from the one class I had taken sophomore year. “So, string theory?”

  “Is a thing in physics, yes. Let’s not do that, though.”

  “Do what?” I went back to the menu.

  “I’ll promise not to pretend to know how to program if you promise not to make me explain the
universe to you.” She leaned down and blew out the candles that were sitting on the table. I frowned.

  “What did you do that for?” The waiter, I think his name was Marco, brought over fresh bread. I ripped a piece and Zoey passed me a pat of butter.

  “I don’t like the flame, it worries me.” I spread the butter on the bread.

  “Really?”

  “There’s a scenario I see playing out where the candle is knocked over, the tablecloth catches fire, and the whole place burns down in a fiery inferno. We escape, barely, but they expect us to pay for all the damages.” She said all this quickly, then looked at me to see how I reacted. She was showing me her weird side way earlier than she was supposed to.

  “That’s all right, I’m paying for dinner, remember?” She smiled and I continued, “So that includes any fire-related charges.” I bit into the warm bread. “You have to try this bread, it’s the reason I come here.”

  “You bring all the girls here?” She took a piece of bread and bit into it.

  “Just the ones my mother sets me up with. By the way, if we’re sharing strange things we do in restaurants-”

  “It’s not strange to dislike fire.”

  “No, but it’s strange to have a whole scene playing out in your head as the reason for disliking it.”

  “Fair enough, go ahead. What do you do? Eat with your hands? Order only appetizers?” She put down her menu and rested her head on her hands. She was interested, it seemed. “I’m interested.”

  “I like to sit facing the door.” She faked being offended.

  “Are you really asking me, a lady, to move?”

  “I wasn’t asking anything, I was just informing you of a preference I have. Now, if you were to take that information and choose to offer to switch seats with me, I wouldn’t object…” I trailed off and snuck a peek at her cleavage. She noticed. I’m sure she did.

  “Well, it just so happens that I also like to sit facing the door. I watch for assassins.”

  “Me too! Well, more like I watch for people I don’t like so I can avoid them. But I imagine I wouldn’t like assassins very much.” I finished the bread and reached for another piece.

  “I’ll keep an eye out for you, how’s that? If an assassin comes in looking for you, or if your mother were to have just walked in, I’d let you know.”

  “Jeez,” I said, laughing, “I don’t know which would be worse, an assassin or my mother.” Zoey’s eyes got wide. She shook her head.

  “I certainly do hope you’re kidding.” My mother’s voice was icy. I turned around. She was wearing a purple evening gown and had her arm linked with Edward’s. That smug bastard nodded politely at me.

  “Oh, Mom, what’re you doing here?” She looked at me with derision.

  “I decided, on my first night in a new city, to try a restaurant that my loving son who would never compare me to an assassin recommended. What’re you doing here, and have you seen my son?”

  “Look, Mom, it was a joke. I’m sorry.” She looked at me for a few seconds longer. Her gray hair was pulled tight into a complex bun. I watched it while she watched me.

  “Very well,” she said. She called Marco over. “Bring us two chairs here, please.”

  “Are you serious, Mom? We’re having a date.” I looked at Zoey. She watched, amused.

  “Well, now you’re having a double date.” She sat down next to Zoey. Edward sat down next to me and glanced at me apologetically. Asshole. He asked me to scooch over. I did so. I leaned against the light-blue walls and stared hopelessly at Zoey. She apparently found the whole thing hilarious. Marco handed my mother a menu. She ordered for all of us.

  “Now then, how many times have you two seen each other?” She looked at Zoey.

  “Well, uh, this is the second, but Zach wanted to redo our first date, so this is officially the first time we’ve met.” She smiled at me. “It’s going better, I think.”

  “Oh, honey, that’s so stupid. Why would you be so lame?” My mother had turned her attention to me.

  “I don’t know, Mom, I guess I’m just a loser.” It was middle school all over again. My mother was sitting me and my friends down to play board games all afternoon. We never went to my house again after that. Zoey chuckled at my sad face. I finished my wine and poured myself another glass.

  “Slow down, honey.” She redirected her attention back to Zoey. “You’re over at Columbia, right?”

  “Yes, and I really love it. The physics program is great.” Zoey gesticulated with her hands as she talked, waving her bread around.

  “Yes, it’s a wonderful school. I wanted Zach to go there, but he didn’t get in.” I groaned.

  “Um, well, it is difficult to get into.” Zoey tried to soften the blows my mother was landing.

  “If he had applied himself in high school…”

  “Mom, I have a high paying job and am living in the greatest city in the world. What more do you want?”

  “I-”

  “Why are you doing this? Tearing me apart in front of this girl we barely know?” Zoey shushed me.

  “Zach, please, I think it’s adorable the way you two interact.”

  “You do?” I looked at her. Was she messing with me?

  “Yes, I love to see how a son treats his mother.

  “Just today, he walked out on me while I was talking.”

  “Is that what this is about? I had just finished moving all your stuff into your apartment so that you could save forty bucks.”

  “Yes, but you were so unhappy about it.” She frowned at me. Our appetizer arrived. Calamari. My favorite. My mother didn’t eat fish.

  “Oh, Mom, I’m sorry. It’s just I hurt my back, and I wanted to get ready for this.” I gestured at Zoey and the restaurant.

  “Everyone’s sorry. Let’s forget about it and eat.” Edward spoke in a low baritone. He reached for a piece of squid.

  “I’ll drink to that.” Zoey picked up her wine glass and clinked it against my empty one. I refilled my glass and poured some into glasses for my mother and Edward.

  The food arrived rather quickly. We were the loudest table in the place. My mother and Zoey and I hit it off. Edward even chimed in occasionally with a comment that wasn’t too annoying. Maybe he wasn’t such an ignoramus after all.

  When the check came, my mother took it. “I think we can get this one.” I had never loved her more.

  “Wait, in that case let me see a dessert menu.” Zoey perked up and pretended to look for Marco.

  “Don’t do that, I know a place in the Bronx where we can all get caramels.” I reached across the table and put my hand on her arm to get her to sit down. She looked at me and smiled. She had a filling in the very last tooth on the bottom right of her mouth. The imperfection only served to make her smile even prettier.

  “Thank you,” she said to my mother. She nodded at Edward too. He raised his glass in acknowledgement. “We’ll get the next one.” My heart fluttered. I had won. I earned a second date. Well, a third.

  “Zoey, I think you might be drunk.” My mother laughed as she put her hand on Zoey’s arm.

  “No, I’m just tipsy. Let’s go mister.” She looked at me. “We’re going to kiss tonight.” I laughed and Zoey laughed. Edward managed a chuckle. My mother beamed.

  “She’s direct, Zach. I told you that.” Zoey and I got up and put on her coats. We said our goodbyes to my mother and my, well, stepfather. Two empty bottles of wine sat at our table. My mother and Edward each had half a glass left. They said they were going to stick around and finish it.

  I walked her home. She leaned on me as we walked. “It’s so cold.” I shivered in agreement.

  “Did you use your physics knowledge to figure that one out?” She laughed.

  “I’m here.” We stopped. We were standing very close to each other. She looked at me. I looked at her. Sirens went off. I turned just in time to see a dark figure running at me. I jumped back and he ran between me and Zoey. An overweight cop came running after
him. He was panting heavily. His bushy mustache obscured his mouth. I could have sworn I saw flecks of donut crumbs in it.

  He ran through us and stopped some fifteen feet away. He stood with his hands on his knees and took out a radio. He spoke into it, then turned and walked past us. Zoey and I watched him go silently. We turned as one to face each other. I started to say something.

  “That was inter--” She silenced me with a kiss. Just as I leaned into it, she pulled back.

  “Call me tomorrow?” She raised an eyebrow at me. “Don’t do the whole two-day waiting thing.”

  “I don’t play by the rules.” She snickered. She kissed me quickly on the cheek and walked up the stairs to the front door. A pair of brass numbers indicated the street number. 68. She turned back to me. I waved.

  “When I say call, I mean call. I don’t want a text.”

  “So bossy. Very well, I shall call you tomorrow.” She went inside. I stood there, triumphant.

  Chapter 8

  I walk through a desert. I am thirsty. I search for water. Brian watches me. I think it’s Brian. He stays away, never close enough for me to make out his face. He drinks from a large bottle of water. There is lightning, then thunder. There is no rain. The sun comes out. It beats down on me. I wander in circles. I am crawling, desperate for a sip of anything. My lips are parched, my throat is so dry is has started to close. I lie in the sand and close my eyes.

  I am hit by a wave of water. I open my eyes. I lie on a surfboard in the middle of an ocean. I see no land. Zoey is there, easily surfing and laughing in the whipping wind. She tosses me a water bottle and gestures for me to get up. She yells something. I can’t hear her over the sound of the waves. I try to stand and fall. She laughs at me. Her hair is wet and it flies behind her. I stand again. I wobble, but do not fall. I look at Zoey. She screams. I turn and see a concrete wall coming towards me. I try to bail, but it is too late. I slam into the wall.

  * * *

  The pain in my back woke me up. I tried to roll over but it hurt too much. I groaned. I heard the faint sounds of traffic coming through the window. I looked at it and was grateful it was closed. I started to get up for work, then I realized it was a Saturday. I was like a little kid all over again. I checked my phone. It was only eight. I went back to sleep.