Love Notes, page 2
‘I’d come just for Carlos’s cooking but showing up without an invite seems stalker-ish,’ Dyl says as he glances around Ed. ‘He’s not here tonight?’
Edie shakes his head with a frown. ‘He’s with his other love, the restaurant.’
‘Ah,’ Dyl says. ‘Well, speaking of food, I brought some.’ He pats the backpack slung over his shoulder.
‘You made the tacos?’ I ask. He could have told me. I’d have helped.
‘I had enough and didn’t eat yet, did you?’
I lift my shoulders. ‘Does a cup of coffee and a hard-boiled egg count?’
‘No.’
‘Did I hear tacos?’ Ed asks, his hands in a prayer position in front of his chest.
‘Fish tacos, my specialty,’ Dyl says, handing Ed his bag.
‘Yum! I’m so glad she brought you!’ he says eagerly, setting the bag on the blanket in front of him and patting either side. ‘Sit, sit. We’ll have so much fun. How’ve you been, doll? It’s been a hot minute since I saw you.’
‘I saw you yester—’
‘Talking to Dyl, love.’ Ed holds a hand in my direction to shut me up.
‘So sorry,’ I say, a little vexed he’s more excited to see Dylan than the little sister he raised.
I silence myself, sitting to Ed’s left while Dylan situates himself to Edie’s right. The two spread Dylan’s perfectly made fish tacos in front of us while chit-chatting about life, and, like the intelligent man I know Dylan is, he pulls the wine he mentioned earlier from his bag.
‘Right when I thought he couldn’t be more perfect,’ Ed says, glancing my way and batting his eyes. I roll mine in return.
Once the movie starts, we quiet, eating in silence with our eyes glued to the wall-sized screen. It’s funny how Ed and I react to the love-at-first-sight moment between Mia and Seb. Both of us pulling our hands to our chest with a nearly silent gasp. Even though I don’t believe.
We’re related even though no one would ever guess we are. Our dad is a pathetic white guy who knocked up my sixteen-year-old mother, who then decided the situation was too bad for her, but she left me there. Ten years prior, Edie’s mom left when she found out she was pregnant with him and never looked back. Ed wasn’t even allowed to see Nick because his mother was the smartest, most thoughtful woman I’d ever met. I used to wish she was my mother, but I got the next best thing because Ed is just like her, from his personality to his looks. He’s tall, with light brown skin, a total dancer’s body, a complexion to die for, hazel eyes and short black shaved hair. And I look just like Nick (our sperm donor) with dark hair, green eyes, an olive-toned complexion with a splatter of freckles across my face that one foster mom once swore would fade with age.
I don’t know what it is about this scene that gets me. I absolutely do not believe in love at first sight. Or love at all. But this movie makes me want to believe – right until Seb’s response. Then I’m reminded both life and love suck. I’ll leave this movie tonight in my safe little love-hating bubble and be perfectly happy without ever having to experience it because I already know it’s the most painful emotion of them all.
Suddenly, it happens. Ed stands, encouraging other couples to do the same. After he’s match-made half a dozen folks with strangers for an impromptu dance party and as Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone sing their first duet together, he extends his hand my way.
‘What are you doing? No.’ I refuse him immediately.
‘Having fun. What are you doing?’
‘Pretending you don’t exist.’
‘Go,’ Dyl encourages, pushing me Ed’s way.
I glare as Ed chuckles at getting his way. He pulls me from the ground by my hand and dances me across the grass while singing the song like he’s in the movie.
‘Your part’s coming up,’ he says between his lines.
I could do it. I know every word. But no way am I. We may share a ‘performance’ gene, but his is much more extroverted than mine.
‘You’re lucky I’m entertaining you with the dance at all. I’m in heels in the grass, and I’ve been drinking wine from the bottle.’
‘And you make it all look easy, darling.’ He glances over my shoulder, his smile suddenly fading. ‘Dylan looks sad.’
He does have a slight frown on his face. I don’t know why. He’s seemed happy until now, and I know he loves this movie as much as I do. Not to mention he’s easily the best-looking man in this crowd. He’s tall, with a head full of dark curls that are currently a touch too long, and he’s utterly handsome with his caramel-colored eyes and five o’clock shadow now surfacing a few hours too late. He could probably ask any woman here to dance, and not one would say no.
‘He’s sad because he’s being a party pooper,’ I say.
‘You inspired him off his patootie and out of his comfort zone. Now he just sits there like a sad little puppy in his Dockers and Ralph Lauren polos, admiring you from afar. He’s the perfect man, Merc. When will you wake up and see it?’
‘Ed,’ I groan. ‘We’ve had this conversation a million times. I’ve told you; we’re just friends now. Nothing more.’
‘You two never had fireworks?’
I shake my head. ‘No lightning, no heart flips, no fireworks. He’s a safe choice and perfect as my backup.’
‘You have a backup?’
‘If you must know, I’ve got two. A backup, Dylan, with the rule that if we’re the last singles standing in our group of friends when I’m forty, he’s the guy I’ll run to. Then I’ve got a backup to my backup – just in case.’
‘In case of what?’
‘Have you looked at Dylan? He doesn’t exactly make anyone want to pour acid into their eyes.’
He smirks. ‘That was like poetry, darling.’
‘I’m just saying; he’s someone’s knight in shining armor. I just don’t think he’s mine.’
Ed is getting tired of this conversation, and it shows. ‘Who is your backup if Dylan falls for some gorgeous maiden who is not you?’
‘I don’t want to say.’
Ed rolls his eyes hard. ‘You’re a little bit maddening. I think you’ve got that heart of yours gagged so tight there’s no way it could possibly tell you to fall for Dylan or anyone else.’
I sigh heavily. This is Ed’s thing. Fall for Dylan. He’s perfect. Handsome. Responsible. The whole package.
Before I know it, I’ve overthought his words long enough that he’s danced me right to him, and I didn’t even notice. His now outstretched hand extended Dylan’s way, says he’s ready to pass me off. That’s why he didn’t partner Dylan with some unsuspecting woman earlier. He had a plan.
I shoot Dyl a ‘don’t do it’ look, but by the coy grin on his face, not to mention that he’s now on his feet, something tells me we’re doing this.
‘Merc,’ he greets me with a guilty smile.
‘Here we are…’ I take his hand, allowing him to slide his other around my waist.
‘You know what I love?’ he asks as he dances me towards the back of the crowd.
‘Fish tacos?’
He shakes his head.
‘Never being late for anything?’
Another head shake and smirk.
‘Dockers as weekend wear?’
He laughs, shaking his head again. ‘I love how you pretend to hate romance and wear this anti-love armored suit, but your favorite parts of this movie are the romantic parts. Deep down, I know you wished Seb and Mia would’ve ended up together.’
‘Are you kidding me? Everyone did. But life is complicated, and when you think the timing is right, it swoops in to prove you wrong. Is it sad? A little. But at the same time, maybe the timing was off so something else wouldn’t be late.’
‘You think their timing was off?’
‘Possibly. I dunno. It’s a movie. I’m not investigating it for between-the-line clues like I’m in a college reading class. I’d love for all this romance crap to be true, but my life hasn’t been that way.’
‘Well, that’s because you insist on living in the past.’
‘The past is a part of who I am; that’s not living in it. You either accept me at my worst, past included, or not at all. If I could escape it, you know I would. But I can’t. Unfortunately, I know what it’s like to have the people meant to love you unconditionally, not. That armored suit is a shield against Cupid because I can’t take one more heartbreak. Pieces of my heart are spread all over this city, Dyl. Because of that, my life’s motto has become “keep your heart out of it”.’
‘I’m aware of your motto.’ He rolls his eyes. After a beat of silence and him visibly considering his following words, he speaks softly. ‘We spend every weekend at weddings. Have you seriously never considered it being you at the end of that aisle?’
‘I play “how long will this couple make it” at weddings and write my obituary in my head during funerals. I don’t think we have the same daydreams.’
He doesn’t look overly pleased with my response. He kind of looks worried, to be honest.
‘Do you picture yourself as the groom while we play weddings?’
‘Yeah,’ he says.
‘Who’s your bride?’ I ask curiously.
‘I dunno,’ he says. ‘She’s still fuzzy.’
‘Well, if you’re wrong, I’ll see ya there in ten years, and I expect tears.’
He chuckles to himself. ‘You really think that’ll happen? There’s no way. You’re more than capable of love, Merc. Both giving and receiving.’
‘I don’t think I am,’ I insist, utterly unsure of myself and almost ashamed of the words because I do love myself. I just can’t picture anyone doing the same with all my issues sporadically surfacing at usually the worst times ever. Even I can barely stand it.
And despite my backup plan, not to mention the second one, I’ve mostly made my peace that I’ll end up the single friend who never let anyone close enough and will die alone, found weeks later with the remote in my hand and the Netflix screen displaying the ‘Are you still watching?’ screen.
‘Maybe you don’t think you deserve it, but you couldn’t be more wrong,’ Dyl says quietly, his breath on my neck as the song ends. ‘I’ve spent five years with you daily. I know you well enough to know at least that.’
As the song ends, we slowly step away from one another, our hands dropping apart last. The walk back to our seats is awkward. But not? This is just us. We talk about anything comfortably. He knows all my secrets practically. Though typically, he’s not so over the top, you deserve to be loved.
For the rest of the movie, I’m silent. My eyes are on the screen as my insides fight off a panic attack, jousting style. Why’s he talking about love all of a sudden? It’s painful and cringy, but something about it intrigues me to the point where I’m considering his words, and it confuses the hell out of me.
2
BROOKS
‘We need to talk,’ Kristyn says out of the blue.
Shit. The four words I regularly hear have left her lips, and I didn’t see them coming. Again.
Hazy shades of pinks and purples fill the sky as the sun sets. A breeze rustles through the leaves of the trees lining the sidewalk. It seems like the perfect night to be suddenly single again. I’m not upset, mainly because this happens every time I date. I should have guessed it when she asked me to meet her here instead of me picking her up. I’ve never dumped a woman. Ever. Things seem great, then bam! ‘We need to talk’ enters the ring.
I reach for her hand, testing my theory. Before I can touch her, she shoves them into her pockets. Yep. She’s dumping me.
When I was first divorced, I was excited to return to the dating world. I met my ex-wife in high school, so I’d never really dated. I was intrigued to find out what all the fuss was about. It’s been over seven years now, and I’m not anymore. Dating sucks. The pool is shallow, peed in, and I just want out. But not alone? So, there is no out. Let that run through your head every sleepless night for all of eternity.
Why am I suddenly so hot? I pull the neck of my shirt away from my chest, the breeze it creates helping.
‘What’s up?’
‘I don’t know how to say this—’
Here we go. I’m finally starting that book I’ve meant to write when I get home. How to Get Dumped Regularly Without Even Trying. A memoir. If I were a superhero, I’d be Dumped Dude. No cape needed, just loneliness, one really soft hand, and the ability to repel women with every life decision I’ve ever made.
‘I’m not ready for the kid thing.’ She lifts a shoulder, glancing over at me with a silent sorry. ‘And… there’s no way I could bring you home to my mother.’
Ouch. God. I’m not suitable mother material anymore? The kid thing, I get. It’s not for everyone. It takes a huge heart to take on someone else’s child. But now I’m offensive to mothers? Damn.
‘Why?’
I have to know.
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ she says, suddenly turning to me, her hand on my bicep, her fingers tracing the outline of a tattoo. ‘I think you’re boiling hot. But my mom won’t appreciate all the tattoos. She’s going to think you just got out of prison.’
Prison? I feel like I should be offended, but then I remember I was at the jail today. For work, but still. Obviously, her mom doesn’t know the difference between tattoos you pay a pretty penny for and those done behind bars by a not-so-small guy called Slim, working a tattoo gun made from an ink pen. This isn’t great for the self-esteem, I won’t lie.
‘I was considering asking you to my brother’s wedding next weekend, but I can’t. My dad would die when he saw you.’
‘He’d die?’
Over a nice, divorced, single dad with a complicated job and thousands of dollars worth of tattoo ink under my skin? Seems a little over the top.
‘Not because of the tattoos, more because you’re older and a father, the fact that you’ve been married before, your job situation…’ She says these words slowly, hesitantly, like she’s breaking bad news I wasn’t already tuned in on.
‘But this—’ She motions between us, a sweet thankful smile now on her face. ‘Has been fun – way, way fun. You really know what you’re doing in the, uh—’ She rocks her head in the vague direction of my apartment. ‘You know.’
I’ve got one talent mention-worthy, and that’s it? Jesus. I want to be offended, but how can I? It seems like that should make me feel better about all this. A braggable trait to pad this breakup story when I tell it to my buddies. She didn’t like me personally, but I’m excellent in bed. Maybe that was the point of her throwing it in the way she did – an attempt at distracting my heart with my ego.
But I’m stuck on one word she used. Older. Older? Since when is thirty-six ‘older’? Of course, she’s twenty-five, so technically, I am older than her, but in my defense, she hit on me the night we met. I’m not out hunting for women a decade younger than me or anything. Am I officially now in the older man category? Fuck.
‘I, uh…’ I clear my throat. ‘I’m hearing that we’re ending this after I buy you dinner?’
She grimaces, nodding her head slowly.
‘Well then,’ I say with a sigh. ‘I’m gonna be rude and skip the first bit.’ I pull my wallet from my pocket and hand her a twenty. ‘For dinner. Text me, and let me know you got home safe. And, uh, good luck?’
Is that what you say after being dumped? Good luck. You’d think I’d be better at this as often as I’ve been left over the years. Usually, they don’t do it in person. Text message has saved me many a time from deciding what to do or say immediately after a breakup. I prefer it to this.
She stares at me, a confused look on her face as I back away from her towards the parking garage my truck is in, jogging across the road and disappearing into the city, never looking back. Why stay?
As I walk, I pull my phone from my pocket, tapping the contact who calls me the most, even though he’s rarely got anything new to say.
‘You banned me from calling you on date nights, lover-boy. Re-mem-ber? Didn’t want me in your head during sexy times,’ Oz barks, clearly joking but playing it off like he’s not. ‘What the hell do you want?’
He always busts my balls before he even says hello. ‘I’m headed your way.’
‘Oh, now you wanna come play? I thought you couldn’t make it tonight ’cause you’ve got a hot date?’ He mimics my voice with that last part but makes it high and whiny.
This prick. If I hadn’t known him since I was nine, I’d tell him to fuck off.
‘I said I couldn’t play ’cause I wanted to get laid.’ I’m kidding – kind of. ‘Instead, she ended things, so—’
‘Again? Damn, bro. I feel like you’re breaking records with how good you are at that part. I always knew something was wrong with you, but Portland women are really proving it.’
‘I’m going to punch you when I get there.’
‘Aww, did Ozie hurt your delicate little feelings?’
‘Her calling me an older dude hurt my feelings. OLDER, Oz.’
‘Well, grandpa,’ he says with a chuckle, even though none of this is funny. ‘In the world of dating twenty-somethings, you are older. Older, fatherly, with a nutty ex-wife who’s not afraid to show up and hang out like you’re friends, and you got a kid you worship. No woman wants that much baggage in a dude.’
‘You sure know how to give a pep talk.’
‘I’ve been considering adding “motivational speaker” to my list of talents. Whatcha think?’
‘I think I almost don’t want to drive off this bridge.’
‘My first glowing review. Now get your ass over here and show that wife of mine how to play guitar like a pro.’
The drive across town takes longer than usual, as it’s Friday night. The streets are busy as people hunt for where to spend their evening. I got lucky when Oz bought the bar ten years ago. We’ve always got someplace to hang out. Someplace cooler than on our couches in front of our TVs. It makes me feel like I’ve got some kind of life when I spend most of my time working, with my daughter, or trying to catch up on my sleep.
