Courting Mrs. McCarthy

by Ian Thomas Malone

  Nathan took longer than usual to get ready. His mind kept returning to the dream he had the night before. He didn’t try to analyze it, as he was just happy to relive it in his head over and over as if there was some sort of expiration date on it.

  A vibration coming from his cell phone interrupted the thirtieth or thirty-first replay of his dream. Nathan checked to see that Griffin had texted him.

  Come visit the store later, I will be bored.

  Nathan would consider this request, but he did not feel obliged to visit.

  He didn’t like most of the clothes in the store Griffin worked at, and his visits were often disturbed by customers. Griffin would remind him this was the point of working, which begged the question of why Nathan would make the trek to his store in the first place.

  Nathan packed two bags in preparation for the library. He brought his laptop and some books for school in one bag. In another, he put his swimsuit, a towel, and goggles in case he decided to go for a swim. He wasn’t completely sure he wanted to put himself in a position where the urge to do so would become irresistible.

  He poured the remainder of the coffee from the pot into a to-go mug and said goodbye to his aunt. Nathan hadn’t driven his car in a few days. It was an old green Jeep Cherokee. It smelled like an old car, unsurprisingly. Jerome had offered to buy him a nicer car, but he didn’t want a new one. The car was well suited for someone who didn’t like to drive and lived close to New York City. The mayor of New York City didn’t like people to use cars in his city, and Nathan was happy to oblige.

  The library was not very crowded for a Sunday morning. It was a little after eleven o’clock when Nathan arrived. There had been story time for the little kids early in the morning, but that over. Children usually got up earlier than teenagers.

  Nathan found his way to his favorite spot on the second floor. There was a table between two bookshelves that was easy to find, but out of the way of general traffic. He explained this to Mrs. Buchanan once, who asked him to move an armchair to the area as well. The armchair was where she could usually be found if she was at the library. No one had commented on the rearrangement, though Mrs. Buchanan had instructed him to tell anyone who asked that it was good for the ‘feng shui’ of the building.

  Mrs. Buchanan was sitting in her armchair when Nathan arrived. She had a cup of tea next to her, resting on a side table. A passerby who didn’t know her might think of her as an old lady who was confused with where she was. Little did they know that Mrs. Buchanan was merely soaking in her community.

  “What are you doing here on such a nice day?” she asked. Her often sharp words with Nathan were said in a joking manner. She spoke with a smile on her face.

  “I have finals in a week. There will be plenty of time to be outside when those are over,” he replied.

  “I don’t think you’ll get much studying done on a day like this, but I do enjoy your company. How was your weekend? Did you say goodbye to your little girlfriend?” She took a sip of her tea. The tea was Scottish Afternoon, her favorite brand. Many people, including the librarian who had brought her the tea on that particular day, assumed Mrs. Buchanan liked it because she was from Scotland. Mrs. Buchanan once told Nathan that she wanted to tell the librarian that such an assumption was racist, but she didn’t want her to stop bringing it.

  “Weekend was fine, thanks. I did, and she is on the other side of the Atlantic now,” Nathan said, with a devil-may-care attitude.

  Mrs. Buchanan picked up on Nathan’s peculiar tone. “Did something happen? Teenage girls can be very funny about goodbyes.”

  “I’d rather not talk about it.” He didn’t want to be rude to his friend, but he didn’t want to tell her about it anymore than he wanted to tell Griffin. Mrs. Buchanan would provide an objective view on his relationship if he chose to tell her, but Nathan tried to bury himself in his studies instead.

  Studying became much harder than anticipated. The combination of restless sleep, warm weather, and his friend doing her crossword puzzle in a more comfortable chair than his had Nathan quite distracted. He also wasn’t sure how hard he needed to study anyway. He was a good test taker and had a firm grasp of the material.

  The constant glances at Mrs. Buchanan did not go unnoticed. “Do you have something to say or are you just procrastinating?” she asked, as they made unexpected eye contact for what seemed like the tenth time that morning.

  “Just procrastinating.” He put his head down.

  “Look somewhere else or I won’t finish my crossword puzzle,” she said.

  “You probably won’t anyway,” he replied without lifting his head up to see her reaction.

  Someone else might have taken offense to a jab from a boy more than sixty years her junior. But Mrs. Buchanan was not an average person. She had often expressed that she enjoyed Nathan’s company because he, unlike many people who spoke with her, did not seem preoccupied with asking her if she needed something. And he didn’t tell her stories of other old people he knew who had died. Keeping subject matters contemporary was a main reason why their friendship worked so well.

  Nathan was about ready to give up studying for the day. His mind kept returning to his dream, but he was even more frustrated that there was nothing he could do about it. Despite his recent twenty-four hour obsession with Mrs. McCarthy, he could not remember a single instance where he’d actually spoken to her. This could be why she had nothing to say to him in the dream.

  He decided to seek the counsel of Mrs. Buchanan. She was about as close to impartial counsel as he could get in his life. There weren’t really any other appealing options either.

  “Actually, there is something,” he began. “And don’t say I told you so.”

  Mrs. Buchanan said nothing but there was a look on her face that indicated she was pleased with herself. There was a long pause that followed as Nathan was hesitant to proceed.

  “Is go on acceptable, or shall that be banned from my vernacular as well?” she asked. Nathan felt embarrassed as he took another pause to formulate his words.

  “Do you remember the time we looked at that magazine and you told me about reading people?”

  “I do. Are you auditioning for Criminal Minds, or is this a new hobby of yours? Heavens knows you’ve got plenty of those,” she added.

  Nathan ignored the reference to the popular crime procedural and asked another question. “Can someone feel something strong toward another person just from sight alone?”

  Mrs. Buchanan looked like she was taken aback by the question. “I take it there’s more to this story than just that. Do you have a flask? That would go quite nicely with my tea for a discussion like this.”

  Nathan tried to describe his feelings with as few specific details as possible. This was challenging given the brevity of his dilemma and the lack of suitable stand-ins for the people in question. Mrs. Buchanan was not likely to prod where he was vague, but he wanted to give her an honest portrayal of his confusion so as to make proper use of her time.

  The description was long and relatively uninformative. He tried to avoid the cliché of, “I have a friend” as a proxy for the situation but he seemed to return to it every time there was pause in the story.

  They exchanged puzzling looks for a while before she began to speak. Nathan sat upright in his chair to give the sign of full attentiveness, for he knew this would be a long one. Mrs. Buchanan was good for advice, but was rarely brief about it.

  After a few deep breathes, she began to spoke. “Nathan, honey. I fear I will collapse and pass on from this world right here in this chair if I try to decipher that cryptic code you spent the better part of ten minutes trying to explain. Perhaps Dan Brown should sit in on our next conversation.”

  Nathan tried to speak, but she cut him off.

  “I’ll instead answer your original question. You’re asking me whether or not you can have strong feelings for someone you’ve never spoken to. I don’t know if there’s a yes or no reply to that. I’d like to say
yes, but I’m not so sure that’s entirely accurate. Before you wander off into la-la land and ignore the rest of what I’m going to say, know this. Feelings are important. They’re not necessarily something you always want to act on. Let them guide you, but don’t make any strong impulse decisions until you’ve got something stronger to go on. That’s why you don’t kill someone who cuts you off, or bounces in that beer pong game, if that example is more fitting to your life.”

  Nathan laughed.

  Mrs. Buchanan allowed him to chuckle. She seemed to enjoy that she could still make a good joke at eighty-two. Then she continued.

  “It’s easy for me to say I loved my husband from the moment I met him decades after the fact. Had I gone by that idea when I was your age, who knows what might have happened? Which is to say, it didn’t happen. Women don’t generally have to worry about this kind of stuff.

  “Look, you obviously felt something for someone. I wasn’t there and even if I was, I can’t really tell you what that means. I should hope you’re not busy trying to find your soul mate just yet. Use your feelings to guide you, but don’t let them get behind the wheel until you know what you’re doing. And whatever you do, do not tell this girl what you’re feeling or she’ll think you are nuts and you’ll have no chance. Give your feelings a chance to grow and maybe you’ll find that love at first sight does exist, and then years from now you can come back here and tell me I was right.”

  Nathan sat for a couple of minutes to absorb her words. He tried to come up with a reply, but all he could say was, “Hmm.”

  “Hmm? That’s all I get. Looks like you’re not the only one who should take up a new hobby and get out of this place.”

  “You should get a Twitter account. It would expand your reach quite a bit. Social media is all inclusive.”

  “I don’t need social media. Most of the people I talk to either live in this town or have left this planet.”

  Nathan laughed. “That’s pretty depressing.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  The two friends returned to their respective projects. Nathan felt a renewed sense of sanity after his conversation with Mrs. Buchanan. He hadn’t really at any point in the night or morning stopped to consider these feelings could be the ramifications of a fuzzy conscience from his break-up with Sarah.

  He felt better about his dream. A little silly maybe, but Nathan knew he was not in love with Jacqueline McCarthy. Studying went a little easier, even if it was a little unnecessary.

  “Nathan, I have a question.” Mrs. Buchanan glanced up from her crossword puzzle. “Is Yeezus a word?”

  He laughed. “Sort of. Is Kanye West mentioned in the clue?”

  Mrs. Buchanan nodded.

  “You’re not the only one with wisdom, old lady,” he said.

  She gave him the middle finger, which caused a man across the room to drop his book.

  Nathan left the library a short while later, and drove Mrs. Buchanan home. Sometimes she drove herself, but today she had blamed the heat. She told Nathan that old people were especially susceptible to the heat, which he only sort of believed. Studying had mostly been an excuse to seek her advice, which had been achieved. He decided not to visit Griffin, who would be busy with customers by now anyway. Instead he chose to go to Seers Point for a nice swim.

  He was unsure of whether or not he felt excited or nervous by the prospect of seeing Mrs. McCarthy there. Another encounter could mean some further clarification on the feelings he had, but it could also lead to more frustration. He had still never actually spoken to the woman whom his consciousness was now obsessed with. He had not shared that tidbit with Mrs. Buchanan for fear of mockery.

  Nathan didn’t think his head was any clearer after the library visit, as many emotions were making their presences known. Confusion, guilt, and embarrassment to name a few. He felt slightly comforted by the wise words of Mrs. Buchanan, but he questioned his need to seek these answers in the first place. He wondered why he couldn’t just let it go.

  The gray Land Rover that belonged to the Thompsons was in the Seers Point parking lot. Nathan wasn’t sure if Mrs. McCarthy’s car was there or not; he did not know what kind of car she drove.

  He ordered a sandwich, and sat down with his cousins. Then he opened a book he’d checked out of the library. Jane Eyre, a classic by Charlotte Brontë. He selected the book on the way out of the library.

  Nathan did not enjoy what little of the book he had read. He had grown up under the impression that this was a novel all people should read, but he no longer agreed with that sentiment. He found himself sympathizing with the protagonist too much even if the comparison was a forced manifestation in his head. This sympathy became self-pity, which degenerated into the book being shut and relegated to the bottom of his backpack.

  He went for a swim. Summer league swim season was approaching and Nathan wanted to get some light work in before he was expected to contribute to his team. He had not swum much since the season had ended in March. He used that time instead to pursue other athletic interests. Some of these were exercise related which allowed him to remain in decent shape, but none involved being in water.

  Swimming allowed Nathan more time to reflect on his weekend, which had been more eventful than most in recent memory. He hadn’t ventured into the city or experimented with a new activity, but he was definitely starting to think about his newfound feeling a bit differently. Mrs. Buchanan had given him an interesting bit to chew on.

  Nathan was guilty of impulsive thinking. He was at peace with his break-up with Sarah, but not with the way it had ended. The decision to step away from the relationship, or rather not to fight for it, had been done with much haste. He had been passive until he could do nothing at all. Alcohol and other substances could be blamed, but Nathan shouldered the responsibility for his decision. He alone was responsible.

  His dream represented another impulse, albeit one he hadn’t directly brought about himself. No one besides Mrs. Buchanan knew anything about it and even she didn’t really know what the deal had been. What was a case of no harm no foul remained a point of contention that Nathan continued to ponder as he swam.

  It should have come as no surprise that Nathan struggled in all his relationships. There were few constant relationships in his life on top of a deceased mother and an absentee father. He tried his best to make up the gaps by diversifying his life and keeping busy. Emotions were not something Nathan could learn in five to ten classes depending on what package he decided to purchase. He had already checked for that.

  One of the adult members passed by Nathan as he got out of the pool. “How was the water?” Mr. Martinez asked.

  “Eye opening,” Nathan replied. He did not think of Jacqueline McCarthy for the rest of the weekend, including the Memorial Day holiday.

  Chapter 8

  Returning to school after a long weekend did Nathan some good. Time spent in a group setting allowed him to participate in conversations without needing to play a part in their direction. This was what he enjoyed most about taking part in classes.

  Most of the student body was checked out mentally. The senior class had disappeared a few weeks prior for internships that served as little more than a nice way to spend the last few weeks of the high school process. Some people tried to talk about grandiose plans for senior year, but this was of little interest to Nathan. Summer was his mind’s only focus.

  Few people inquired about Nathan’s relationship with Sarah. She went to a different school, but students of the two educational facilities often interacted in social functions with each other. Sarah’s best friend Melanie went to his school, but she didn’t give him any indication that she knew what had happened. He found this odd, but he decided that he had overestimated the tendencies of humans to inquire about things that did not pertain to themselves.

  Nathan and Griffin found themselves sitting at a table in between periods. It was raining outside, or they might have been watching the girls tan on the football field. Grif
fin had pressed him to get a job for the summer. This seemed like a big waste of time to Nathan.

  Real internships wouldn’t matter until college, and Jerome’s generous allowance was more than he needed to enjoy his life. He didn’t tell Sarah what he thought of her internship. Money made on a job she was capable of doing would pale in comparison to the money he got from a guilty parent.

  “What are you going to do this summer? I have long hours and your girlfriend is in Europe,” Griffin said. “You’re going to be bored out of your mind,” he added, overselling his point.

  “Oh, there’s plenty to do. Swim, read, take some classes.” Nathan smiled as he sparred with his friend’s spotty logic. “Summer is for relaxing. You should try it some time.”

  Griffin was not amused at his lack of progress. “You can’t spend the whole summer in the pool or talking in the library with that old woman. You’ll be bored by July. I can get you a job at my store.”

  Nathan laughed. “You only want me to work there so you’re not bored. Which is stupid because you’re always working when I visit you anyway. You work thirty hours a week that’s hardly full time, dude. Besides, that store sells mostly women’s clothes. They don’t need another guy.”

  “Suit yourself. I’m just trying to look out for a friend who won’t look out for himself.” Griffin managed to come across as at least partially sincere.

  “Thank you. Why don’t you study for finals instead of worrying about me?” Nathan suggested, as some of their other friends approached. The subject was changed to the popular HBO series, Game of Thrones.

  On Thursday, Nathan had a free period at the end of the day, which allowed him to leave early. He made plans for Griffin and Ralph to join him at their club for a swim and a hangout, but neither of them were able to make it.

  Griffin left a message saying he had been called into work because another employee hadn’t showed. Griffin often did this as it made him feel important. Ralph sent no message, but this was not surprising.