by Jamie Howard
Me: Perfect.
Since it’s a toss-up, and I was kinda leaning toward black anyway, I lean down to slip on the black leather boots. Seeing as they’re still arguing, I slip into my bathroom to give myself one last check. Looking in the mirror, I barely recognize the woman staring back.
Three weeks after I left Briscoll Bay without a glance in my rearview mirror, I walked into a salon, determined to erase the version of myself that was too pathetic, too meek and docile to hold on to her guy. In two hours I’d replaced my pale blond hair with my natural brunette color. At first I loved it. But now when I’m confronted with a mirror, the memory of my mother stares back at me, and I think that might be even worse.
I still can’t believe that after three years with Luke I’m right back at the beginning again. Back to first dates and testing the water with someone new, worrying over how I can get away without talking about my family, and now, avoiding the subject of Luke. Not that having an ex is anything to be ashamed of, but I can’t help feeling ashamed about the whole thing. Luke never said it to my face, but ever since that day I saw him with Sloane, I knew I’d never be good enough for him. She was a neon flashing sign to my pastel-colored, hand-painted display in the window. A vibrant, commanding presence to my quiet, muted one.
Men want women like her. Women who have sex in elevators and in bathrooms at clubs, not ones who’ve never gotten freaky anywhere weirder than the foot of the bed. My gaze flicks up to the mirror and my reflection makes me flinch. Who am I anymore?
Wrenching my gaze away, I reach for my phone as it does its vibration dance across the counter.
Clark: Want to tell me what I just helped you decide? Please tell me it wasn’t hair color.
Me: Hah, no. Just boots.
Clark: Going to a guy for fashion advice? Risky.
I chuckle to myself and head back into my room.
Me: Technically you didn’t know it was about fashion, so, risk averted.
Clark: Touché.
“Hey!” Delia yells at me, pouting. “We were still debating.”
“Sorry, I consulted an outside source.” I wiggle my phone at her and then tuck it in my purse. “I’ve gotta leave in ten minutes and it sounded like that conversation was going to go on for at least another twenty.”
“What outside source?” She throws a look at Tara like she can’t understand who I could’ve possibly gotten advice from, wrinkling her freckled-covered nose. It’s truly a testament to the way I’d been holed up in this apartment for the last few months.
“Her text-a-friend,” Tara answers, lifting up one dark eyebrow.
“Oh, right.” Delia crosses one leg over the other and leans back on her hands. “Have you gotten him to send you a picture yet?”
I poke through my jewelry box trying to find a necklace. The one I want is tangled up with another, knotted in a mess of silver and gold. “Haven’t asked for one.”
“Alright.” Delia drags the word out so that it lasts for at least three syllables. I’ve got my back to them, but I’m pretty sure they’re trading a why is Haley so testy look. “How about the date tonight? What’s he like? Hot?”
Sinking my teeth into my lower lip, I try to pry apart the two intertwined necklaces, but only manage to chip some nail polish off my thumb. “His profile picture looks cute.” It does, though he’s not my usual type. But I’d already done the gorgeous, swoonworthy boyfriend and that had ended just as disastrously as I thought it would. I blame it on the fact that I’d been closing myself off to men pretty much since my attraction to them surfaced. “Although, his name is Arnold.” I make a face at Delia.
Her lips stretch as she grimaces.
“Stop it.” Tara stabs her finger at the screen of her cell phone and then passes it to Delia. “He goes by Arnie. And look, he’s cute, right?”
“He’s … actually not terrible.” She sucks in her lower lip as she flicks at the screen. “Twenty-nine, investment banker, likes to read. Oh, and this is cute. Look, he’s got a cat.” Lifting her hand, she flashes the screen in my direction.
Another fleck of nail polish goes flying, and I let out a groan.
“Here.” Tara plucks the necklaces from my hand and deposits them back in my jewelry box. After fumbling through it, she grabs another, sweeps my hair to the side, and fastens it around my neck before I even have a chance to see which one she picked out.
“How do I look?” I ask, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from my pants.
“Beautiful, as always,” Tara answers with a smile, nudging me affectionately in the ribs.
Delia cocks her head and bounces off the other side of the bed, eyebrows drawn together in a frown. The red, messy knot of hair on top of her head flops to the side as she draws back my curtain and peers out the window. “You happen to have an umbrella to go with that outfit?”
* * *
Even though I leave on time, the roads are snarled in traffic because of the weather. By the time I reach the parking lot, I’m already fifteen minutes late and there’s not a spot to be seen. I have to circle it twice before I finally find a place to wedge my Camry.
The rain comes down in sheets, and the wind tries its best to turn my umbrella inside out and rip it from my hands. Though I manage to hang on to it, I’m a damp, soggy mess by the time I make it to the front door of the restaurant.
Running a hand through my hair, I step into the press of people, trying not to whack anyone with my umbrella. I push my way to the front, apologizing profusely for every toe I step on. Of course the floor is marble, and just as I step in front of the hostess stand, my foot finds a puddle and skates out from underneath me. Grabbing on to the edge of the stand, I manage to stay upright. The hostess avoids making eye contact as she points out Arnie in a booth on the far side of the restaurant, the corners of her lips quivering.
I try to gather myself and get my head back in a good place, but at the moment, the only thing I can think about is how my socks are squishing inside my boots and how it feels like I’ve tweaked my hamstring.
Alright, focus. You’re on a date. Have a good time.
Arnie picked the restaurant, some Asian-fusion place I’d never heard of or been to called Wild Ginger. Given how packed the entryway and parking lot are, I have to assume it’s a good place. Dark hardwood floors span the dining area, and wallpaper with a swirling gold pattern decorates the walls. A small red pendant light dangles above every booth, bathing the entire place in a soft, romantic light.
At our table, Arnie pinches the bridge of his nose and glances down at his phone. Checking the time, I’m sure. Suddenly realizing that I’m already late and just standing here, I finally get myself moving. As he glances up and his eyes catch mine, his shoulders drop, like he’s relaxing them for the first time in an hour. Possibly more than that.
“I’m so sorry I’m late.” I wave a hand at my hair and then down at the rest of myself, encompassing the whole wet mess. “The weather and the traffic.”
“Of course.” With a shake of his head, he pushes himself out of the booth and stands. He’s wearing a green-and-white-checkered button-down, over a pair of khaki pants that are a few steps shy of being too small. “It’s, umm … well, thanks for coming,” he says.
The way he says it makes me wonder if he was hoping I wouldn’t show up after all.
He takes a tiny step forward, hesitating between a handshake and a hug. Maybe even a kiss on the cheek. I’m so out of practice I don’t know what the protocol is. Right about the time I opt for a handshake, he must decide on a hug, and I end up poking him in the stomach.
He jerks back, sticking out his hand. “It’s really nice to meet you, Haley.”
“You too, Arnie.” I force my smile to stay put and my hand to stick it out through the handshake, even though his soft, sweaty hand makes me want to snatch it back.
He gestures toward the booth. “Shall we?”
Rearranging the colorful throw pillows that crowd the bench, I slide into my spot.
“Did yo
u have any trouble finding the place?” he asks.
I flip open the menu. “No, not really. It was just hard finding a parking spot. This place is packed.”
“It’s usually like this. I used to come here all the time with my…” He snaps his lips together and shakes his head. “The sashimi is really fantastic if you like that sort of thing.”
“That’s, uh, good to know. Thanks.” I duck my head down to study the menu. Thank God they have something other than sushi or I’d be so screwed. Raw anything has never been my cup of tea. Glancing back up, I’m treated to the top of Arnie’s head as he looks over his own menu. Sadly, his profile picture didn’t advertise the balding patch front and center on his head that stares back at me like a crop circle in the midst of his brown hair.
The waitress makes an appearance right then, and Arnie flashes me a quick smile, making me immediately feel like a terrible mean girl for judging his thinning hair. Arnie orders dragon rolls and I go with chicken teriyaki. After she leaves, a silence descends on us, hanging as heavy as the clouds outside.
“So.” Arnie clears his throat. “Have you lived around here for long or are you new to the area?”
I mentally calculate. “Well, I graduated last summer and moved in with my roommate shortly after that, so, about six months. How about you?”
“I just recently moved back, actually. I’ve got family in the area, so it was the best thing for me.”
I try not to cringe as he brings up family. It’s typical first-date material, but it’s never a topic I want to cover. Sipping at my water, I ask, “Are you close with your family?”
“Well, since my mom and I live together, I’d say we’re kind of close.” He chuckles, but it sounds as painful as my smile feels. “It’s just temporary,” he adds. “Until I can get back on my feet.”
Oh man, this is going downhill fast. “Is everything alright?”
“As alright as things can be after finding out my wife was screwing our landscaper and then being served with divorce papers in the middle of work.” He laughs again, but this time I can’t force myself to smile. I’m going to kill Tara.
Arnie waves his hand at me. “It’s not a big deal. That was weeks ago, and I’m totally fine now. And hey, the divorce is almost final.” He takes a swig of his water. “So glad to be back in the dating game.” He leans back into his side of the booth and stretches his arms out across the top.
The conversation stalls again, puttering out till the only thing I can hear are the murmurings from other diners and the clanking of their silverware against their plates. My glass of water continues to sweat, creating a small puddle on the wooden tabletop. When the awkward tension is so taut between us it feels like the air is going to shatter, his phone rings and I blow out a sigh of relief.
He frowns at his cell. “I’ve gotta take this. Back in a minute.”
I sag back into the booth as he walks away, fishing out my own phone. To Tara I send a quick, short message.
Me: I’m going to kill you.
Then I flip over to my conversation with Clark.
Me: Quick. Send help. This date is a disaster.
I only have to wait a few seconds for his response.
Clark: Sure, let me just find a phone booth real quick and slip on my cape.
Clark: Seriously, though, you okay?
Me: I may be surveying my escape routes, considering faking a stomach ache or something. You know, I went into this with wildly low expectations, but even with those I wasn’t really expecting my first date to be with a guy who’s balding, lives with his mother, and oh yeah, is still married.
This time it takes a little longer for him to respond.
Clark: Sorry, I was just laughing so hard that I was having trouble texting you back.
Me: Real nice.
Clark: At least he didn’t bring his mom on the date?
Me: Omg! Although, he did just go answer a call on his cell. Maybe it’s her.
Clark: Uh oh, maybe she’s on her way over …
“Sorry about that.”
Arnie’s voice jerks me back into the present, and my smile immediately dims.
I hide my phone in my lap. “That’s alright.”
This time he’s not smiling, though, and the way he’s frowning brings out the worry lines around his nose and mouth. He runs a hand through his hair. “That was work, and I’m really sorry but I have to go.”
“Right now?” I bite my tongue, trying to keep myself from sounding overeager.
“Unfortunately, yes.” He scoots forward toward the table, and folds his hands on it. “I really hate running out on you like this. I’ve been looking forward to this date all week. When I saw your picture on MatchPerfect I felt an instant connection.” His expression softens as he looks at me, and I try not to squirm. “You have the most gorgeous eyes. They remind me so much of my mom’s. Just beautiful.”
Despite my best attempts, I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open. Did this guy actually just compare me to his mom? No, no. Correction: Did he just tell me he’s attracted to me because I look like his mom? I try to repress a shudder, but I’m not sure I’m entirely successful.
He tilts his head to the side. “Do you think we can do this again sometime?”
Crap. I take a deep breath. “Arnie, this was … nice, but I don’t really feel a connection between us. I don’t think this is going to work out.”
“But it’s just a first date.” His eyes plead with me. “It’s the first date I’ve been on in years. I’m just so out of practice. If you give me another chance I’m sure things would be better.”
“I’m sorry but no.”
A muscle jumps in his cheek as he clenches his jaw, but whatever he’s about to say gets cut off by the reappearance of our waitress, our dinners boxed up and in two plastic bags. She sets the check between us.
“Well, thanks for nothing.” Arnie stands, flipping through his wallet. He tosses a few bills on the table. “This should cover my half. Nice to meet you, Haley.” He huffs and then mutters under his breath, “Not.”
He’s halfway across the restaurant, stomping toward the door, when my laugh bubbles out from between my pinched lips. Did that really just happen?
Chapter 7
Haley
Torrential downpour? Check. Awful first date? Double check. Managing to make my night even worse? Yeah, that’s like the cherry on top of this horrid sundae. Resting my forehead against the cold glass, I thump my fist against my window. My keys wink back at me as the streetlight glints off them from their warm, dry perch on my driver’s seat. I try the door handle one more time, probably the hundredth time in the last minute, but surprise of all surprises it’s still locked.
I groan and clench my teeth together, trying to keep them from chattering. We’re only about ten degrees from where this rain would be snow, and my sopping jacket isn’t doing anything to keep out the chill. Giving up on any chance of rescuing my keys from the car, I dash across the parking lot, dodging a puddle as I make a run for my apartment building. Luckily I can at least huddle in the entryway, even though getting into my apartment is out of the question.
I pull my cell phone out of my purse with numb fingers, fighting off a shiver, and find a few messages from Tara waiting for me.
Tara: You can only kill me if you can find me!
Tara: Seriously though, are you alright? I definitely didn’t set you up with an asshole on purpose. I mean he has a cat for God’s sake, doesn’t that automatically make him nice or something?
Tara: Okay, Delia’s yelling at me to put away my phone because we’re out to dinner.
Tara: But still text me that you’re okay, k?
I bite back a groan and push my dripping hair off my forehead. Of course the one time I’m stupid enough to get locked out of the apartment she’s out on a date. I shoot her back a quick message and let her know I’m fine, leaving out the whole I’m probably going to get hypothermia issue.
It’s kind of pathetic that T
ara’s just about the only person I can call for help. Alright, well I could call Delia too, but that’s not really gonna help me right now seeing as they’re together. Scrolling through my contacts, my finger hesitates over my mom’s name. What I’d give to hear her voice right now, but I’m not even sure this number is still current. And even if it were, she’s not interested in coming to my rescue. She hasn’t been for a long time.
My shoulders sink and it feels like my own personal storm cloud is hovering right above my head, following me around and dousing me with droplets of gloom. I try and shake it off, still searching through my phone for the magical answer.
And then Kyle’s name pops up on my screen.
I sink my teeth in my lower lip, considering it. He did say to call if I needed him.
Trying not to overthink it, I quickly dial his number and then pace around the entryway as the phone starts to ring.
“Hello?”
Something is making a lot of noise in the background, but I can’t quite tell what it is. “Hey, it’s Haley. From work.”
“Oh, hey. Hold on a sec.” The sound vanishes. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry to bother you. Are you … out?” Please don’t be out.
“Uh, no. I’m just crashing at home tonight. Like all the cool people do.” He laughs. “Hold on, didn’t you have that date tonight?”
“Yeah, I did. Just got back. I’m actually wondering if I can ask you for a really huge favor?” I cross my fingers behind my back.
“Of course. What do you need?”
“So, I may be locked out of my car and my apartment. I was in a rush trying to get out of the car and my keys fell out of my purse and now I’m kinda stuck. My roommate isn’t going to be home for a couple of hours and normally I’d just wait it out but I’m a little bit … cold. And wet.” I blow out a breath. “Do you think, maybe—and it’s completely okay if you say no—that I could hang out with you for a bit? Just until she gets back?”
Something squeaks on his end of the phone, like he’s shifting on the couch or sitting down on his bed. “Of course you can. No big deal.”
“Are you sure?”
