How the Grinch Stole My Heart

by Annabelle Costa

  Like I said, I should be grateful. But when I look in the mirror, I don’t feel that way. My disability is painfully obvious. You can’t see the brace on my ankle because my pants hide it, but the crutch isn’t something I can hide or go without. When I walk, my right leg drags. And my arm is a fucking mess.

  Oh well. I can either go to the date looking like this or cancel. So I guess I’ll go.

  The doorbell rings, which jolts me out of my self-pity. I’m meeting Hayley at the restaurant, so it’s definitely not her. I limp over the door and check the peephole.

  It’s Fanny.

  I debate for a moment if I should pretend not to be home, but I’m sure she heard me limping over to the door. So I throw open the door, and her eyes grow big when she sees me. Her wrinkled lips form an “O.”

  “Jeremy!” she exclaims. “You look so handsome!”

  My left hand itches to straighten out my right arm, but I don’t let go of the crutch. “Uh, thanks.”

  “Are you off somewhere?” She’s circling me now, like she’s a wild animal who’s chosen me as her pray.

  “Yeah, I…” My ears grow warm. “I’m going out.”

  “Out where?”

  “Outside.”

  “Outside where?”

  I let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m going on a date, okay? With that girl, Hayley.”

  “Oh!” She clasps her hand together. “How wonderful! I knew you two would be a good match.”

  “Uh huh…”

  “I bet you’ll get married,” she sighs.

  Yep. Hayley and I will get married. Very likely. “Do you need anything, Fanny?”

  “Well…” She cocks her head to the side. “Actually, I met this… well, never mind. It’s not important.”

  “Okay…”

  She studies me for a moment until I start to feel self-conscious. “You’re not going to wear a tie?”

  “A tie?” I haven’t worn a tie in six years. I can’t imagine how I’d tie the damn thing. It would be a challenge, that’s for sure. I couldn’t do it very well even before. I don’t have a gadget to help me with it. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  “Oh, Jeremy.” She shakes her head as she pushes past me into my apartment. Christ, does this woman have any boundaries? She heads for my bedroom without asking, and I do my best to keep up with her. When I get into the room, she’s already rifling through my closet. “You do own ties, don’t you?”

  “No, because ties are stupid.”

  “Here they are!” Fanny cries triumphantly. Damn, I can’t believe I still have some ties. If I’d known Fanny was going to show up and make me wear one, I would have tossed them. I’ve only got two. Like I said, I don’t have much need for them. They don’t go with my T-shirts and sweatpants.

  “This one,” Fanny decides, holding up a green tie. “It will bring out the green in your eyes.”

  “I’d really rather not.”

  “You don’t know what’s good for you. Women like a man in a tie.”

  There are a lot of things women like in a man. I can’t think of how many of those qualities I possess. Not many. Maybe the tie is a good idea. God knows, I need all the help I can get.

  She looks at the tie for a moment, then over at me. Or more specifically, at my useless right arm. “Come here,” she says.

  Obediently, I walk over to her and allow her to drape the tie around my neck. “My husband couldn’t tie a tie either,” Fanny muses as her hands expertly form the ends of the tie into a knot. “For forty years, every morning I would tie it for him before he went in to work.”

  “So,” I say, “how come he couldn’t tie his own damn tie?”

  She lets out a little huff. “You don’t appreciate romance.”

  “If making your wife tie your tie every morning is romance, then you’re right. I don’t appreciate romance.”

  “You were married once,” Fanny says. “Weren’t there any sweet little things your wife would do for you?”

  Immediately, I think of Taylor’s sewing pile. It was a joke between the two of us. When I’d get a rip in my pants or lose a button, I’d tell Taylor and she’d say, “Put it in my sewing pile!” She didn’t actually sew much at all, so her “sewing pile” was just the dining table. I’d toss my damaged garment on the table and she’d sew it up for me that night. I couldn’t sew on a button to save my life. I needed her for that.

  “No,” I say. “There wasn’t.”

  “Oh, come on!”

  “Maybe that’s why we got divorced.”

  That or Taylor couldn’t deal with her formerly virile husband having to rely on her for so much.

  And also me being kind of a prick about it.

  “There!” Fanny brushes some lint off my shoulder and steps back to admire me. “So much better! Oh, Hayley is going to love you.”

  Yeah, that remains to be seen. “How could she not like me when I’m wearing this fabulous tie?”

  “Exactly!” Fanny says.

  I’m not sure if she doesn’t understand sarcasm or purposely ignores it.

  “And if it doesn’t work out,” she adds, “don’t worry because I’ve got another girl lined up for you.”

  Oh, Christ. “We’ll see.”

  “You will find the right woman for you, Jeremy,” she says. “I promise.”

  I know I should be excited about this date, but all I can think is I wish I were going out with Noelle tonight.

  Chapter 17: Noelle

  One of the hardest things about working at a restaurant are the evening shifts. It didn’t matter before I had Henry, but now it’s time I have to spend away from my son. I hate it. The owner of the diner has been nice to me though and understanding about my needs since the divorce, so I try to stay late when he says he needs me.

  Tonight is Thursday night, which is a quiet night, although lately Thursdays have been getting busier. I thought I’d catch up on inventory and get a tally of supplies I need to order tomorrow morning, but every second I’m being called out to put out fires.

  For example, right now I’m dealing with a guy who is dining with his wife and two children, but he isn’t willing to accept the prices on the menu. The waitress, Lorna, had to call me over to talk to the guy.

  “Look,” the guy says to me, “I’m being honest here. Four-fifty for a cheeseburger is crazy. I’ll give you two bucks. That’s fair.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. I’m trying to make eye contact, but my eyes keep getting drawn to the guy’s horrific comb-over. I’m embarrassed for him every time I look at it. Some guys need to shave it all off. “The prices aren’t a negotiation. The owner sets the prices and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “But you probably pay like a dollar to make the burger,” he says. “I mean, it’s just some cheap ground beef, a bun, and cheese. So wouldn’t it be better to get two dollars than lose our business?”

  “Sir,” I say as calmly as I can, “the prices on the menu are the final prices. If you’d like to go to another restaurant, that’s your choice.”

  “Well, I might,” he says.

  He looks at me like I’m going to make a move to stop him. I’m not. Trust me.

  In the end, they stay, even though I would have given them five bucks to leave. If they’re already complaining before they’ve even ordered, I guarantee they’re not going to be happy with their food.

  I’m about to go back to the inventory when the door to the diner opens, and my heart leaps in my chest. It’s Jeremy. Jeremy of the bacon cheeseburger and the Froot Loops and the new shirt for his date. Jeremy, with the sexy scar over his eyebrow, who apparently has the most freaking common first name in all of Manhattan.

  And oh my God.

  He’s here with his date.

  Great.

  I cringe when I lay eyes on her. She’s got to be ten years younger than me, which sadly isn’t that young anymore. She’s got a sweet round face, framed with strawberry blond hair. She’s exactly the sort of girl I would have pict
ured Jeremy with.

  He told me he was going on a date. So why am I so surprised to see him? I guess I figured he wouldn’t bring her here. Showing up here with a date means he must have filed me into the “friends and acquaintances” category. Possibly because I refused to walk home with him.

  I have to be honest. There’s a small part of me that was hoping he might have canceled the date.

  I often pitch in by helping to seat people when the staff is busy, but I don’t want to go over there. The first guy I’ve really liked since Greg is out on a date with some other girl. I can’t say it isn’t a punch in the gut. Right now, all I want to do is hide in the back and pig out on the contents of the supply room.

  Chapter 18: Jeremy

  I can’t pick up Hayley for our date because I don’t have a car, and even if I did, I can’t drive anymore. It’s not because my right leg doesn’t work very well, although sometimes I let people believe that’s the problem. If that were the only issue, I’d get pedals on the left.

  The problem is that ever since my stroke, sometimes I miss things on my right side. The doctors called it “neglect.” Most of the time, it’s not too bad, and I do things to compensate. For example, on the computer screen, I was occasionally missing words on the right side of the screen, so when I got out of rehab, I stuck a piece of red tape to the right of the screen so I’d know to keep reading until I got to the tape. I barely need the tape anymore, but I keep it there, just in case.

  So when I’m reading, I sometimes miss a few words, or every now and then, I bump into something on my right that I didn’t quite see. It’s no tragedy. But I can’t even imagine getting behind the wheel. It’s not possible to drive when you can’t see very well on your right side.

  It’s too bad because given how shitty I walk, I wish I could drive places. And in general, I miss driving. I miss the feel of my foot on the gas pedal, driving fast down the highway. Just one more goddamn thing I lost when that aneurysm burst.

  Hayley and I agree to meet at a restaurant—this trendy bistro that’s only a few blocks from my building. I leave myself lots of time for my slow ass to get there. The last thing I want is to fall because I was rushing.

  Hayley is waiting in front of the bistro when I arrive. I haven’t been to Ben’s Bagels in a long time, but I know it’s her right away. She has the look of a girl waiting for a blind date to arrive. Just as I suspected—she’s pretty. She’s a few years younger than me, maybe in her late twenties, with reddish-blond hair. She’s a little chubby, but it suits her. She’s not sexy the way Noelle is though.

  Christ, why can’t I stop thinking about Noelle? I’m out on a date with another girl, and Noelle clearly isn’t interested. I need to get over it.

  I watch Hayley for a moment as she searches the street, checking out the guys who walk past her. When she sees an attractive guy, her eyes light up for a moment with hopefulness, then her face falls when she realizes he’s not her date. And when she sees an unattractive guy, she takes a step back, her brow furrowed, followed by relief when he doesn’t stop.

  I wonder what her reaction will be when she sees me.

  No, that’s not true. I don’t wonder. I know.

  I take a deep breath and walk in Hayley’s direction. Before her eyes even hit my face, she notices the crutch I’m holding on the left and she sucks in a breath. She takes two steps back.

  Ouch.

  “Uh, hi,” I say. “Hayley?”

  Her shoulders sag. “Oh. Um, yes. So you’re… Jeremy?”

  I grip the handle of my crutch with my left hand until my knuckles turn white. Well, at least she didn’t pretend to be someone else. “Right.”

  Her eyes drop to my right arm. It’s less prominent when I’ve got my coat on, but she can probably see my balled up fist. I can’t get a glove on that hand to save my life.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she says.

  “Likewise,” I say.

  Although what I want to say is, I warned you blind dates suck.

  We are sixty seconds into our date and I already wish it were over. New record.

  “So, um…” Hayley glances behind her at the trendy bistro. “I put our names down on the list when I got here, but they told me it would be an hour wait for a table.”

  “On a Thursday night?”

  “Thursday is the new Friday,” she says.

  “Thursday is the new Friday?” I repeat. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Thursday is Thursday.”

  She shrugs and doesn’t say anything more. I probably shouldn’t have told her she’d just said the dumbest thing I’d ever heard. In my defense, I haven’t been on a date in two years. I’ve forgotten how to talk to… well, human beings, apparently.

  Hayley glances down at her watch, then back up at me. “There’s a diner down the block that usually isn’t too crowded at night. Want to try that instead?”

  Well, at least she isn’t using the wait for a table at the bistro as an excuse to call the whole thing off. I’ve got to give her credit for that. “Sure,” I say.

  I was always the sort of person who used to sprint more than I walked. So it’s painful that not only am I no longer able to run, but I can’t walk at even a normal pace for a healthy adult man. My steps consist of moving my crutch forward, carefully dragging my bad right leg along as far as I can manage without tripping over it, then completing the step with my good left leg. It’s not quick. Hayley is clearly walking slower than she’d like so I can keep up with her. I don’t know what’s going through her head, but I’m guessing she doesn’t want to rip her clothes off with desire.

  Noelle didn’t seem to mind how slow I was walking.

  Hey, Grieder, quit thinking about other women when you’re on a date.

  I’m so focused on walking as quickly as I can without falling that I don’t notice right away what diner we’re going to. It’s Moonlight Diner—where Noelle works. Well, great.

  Maybe she won’t be working tonight.

  The diner is crowded for a Thursday night. Maybe Hayley is right—maybe Thursday really is the new Friday. Maybe that wasn’t the dumbest thing that’s ever been said. Hayley has to hold the door open for me when we get there, and any slim chance I had with her slips away from me. One of the waitresses leads us to a table that is thankfully near the front of the restaurant. Hayley slides off her black wraparound coat to reveal a sexy dark purple dress underneath. She clearly made a big effort to look hot tonight.

  And now I have to get my own goddamn coat off.

  It’s not as easy as it sounds. I get it off my left arm with no problem, but then I have to fight to get my right arm free. Usually taking my coat on and off isn’t that hard, but the cold and the walk over here and the anxiety has tightened up all the muscles to the point where my arm won’t give an inch. It is locked up tight. I cannot get the fucking sleeve off my fucking arm for anything, especially given I have only one hand to work with. If I were home and had all the time in the world, I’m sure I’d be able to do it, but with Hayley staring at me, it’s impossible.

  I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t go through this date with my coat stuck on my arm.

  “Are you okay?” Hayley asks me.

  “Yep,” I say through my teeth.

  “Do you need…” A look of utter disgust fills her pretty features. “Help?”

  Forget this shit. I can’t keep up this charade of a date. I don’t want to sit across from a woman who clearly doesn’t want to be here with me.

  “Look,” I say to Hayley, “you should leave.”

  Her mouth falls open. “What?”

  I roll my eyes at her. “I warned you about blind dates, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “This…” I point to her then point to my chest. “It’s not a connection. I get it.”

  A flush fills her cheeks. I bet nobody’s ever said that to her before. But it’s not like I’m ending the date because I find her repulsive. If she were smiling and
flirting with me, I’d stay in a heartbeat.

  “Really,” I say. “We shouldn’t waste our time.”

  “Okay,” she mumbles. “Um, so…”

  “All right, good luck then. Goodbye.”

  The flush in her cheeks deepens. “I would have stayed, you know.”

  “Wow,” I say flatly, “aren’t you a humanitarian.”

  “Fuck you,” she says.

  I shrug. It’s hard to maintain my dignity when my arm is trapped in the sleeve of my jacket. I’m doing my best.

  As soon as Hayley marches out of the diner, I feel myself deflate. I sink down into the booth because I don’t have the energy to stand anymore. And my right arm is still caught in the goddamn coat. I’ll probably have to go the rest of my life like this. They’ll bury me with this coat stuck on my arm.

  The good news is it won’t affect my social life because I’ve apparently become undateable. And therefore, unfuckable. I will never fuck again. My dick will now only be used for pissing and relieving a little tension.

  “Hey.”

  I look up at the sound of the slightly throaty, familiar voice. My eyes widen. It’s Noelle. She’s here. And she’s wearing a professional, black blouse today that’s fitted around the curves of some really just incredibly nice tits.

  I’ll never get to touch tits again.

  Damn it.

  “Hi,” I manage.

  She grins at me, and I get that skip of excitement in my chest. I can’t help myself. Even if it means nothing, I like seeing her smile.

  “Do you need help with your coat?” she asks me.

  Hell, no. That’s the last thing I want.

  “Actually…” I look over at the door. “I’m probably just going to leave.”

  “You mean since you sent your date packing?”

  My ears get warm. “Yeah, well. She wasn’t into it.”