Fourth Comings_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [124]
“Seriously,” said Pseudo-Philo Fucktard. “Why are we all trying to achieve this state of happiness when no one can even define what it means?”
Red-N-Sweaty placed a firm, friendly hand on his shoulder. “I can’t tell if you’re too drunk or not drunk enough.”
“The latter!” said the rest of the group in unison, which sent them into paroxysms of laughter.
Their conversation was interrupted by a cell phone. The ring tone wasn’t a tone at all, but a young woman’s voice chirping, “Jeff is so hawt right now. Jeff is so hawt right now…” And the conversation that commenced was not unlike any number of overheard cell-phone conversations in which the overheard half is a priceless parody of postmillennial conversational strangulation, in which the speaker seems incapable of putting together a single sentence in the subject/verb/object tradition.
“Yeah…The fuck?…Aw shit, dawg…”
This was the guy who was just waxing philosophical about the nature of happiness? As inarticulate and seemingly pointless as it was, the call lasted for the five-minute duration of the ride to Princeton Junction. I hopped to my feet before the train even screeched to a stop and I was the first passenger out the sliding doors. I strode quickly through the dim underground tunnel that brought me to the eastbound side of the tracks, where there were already clumps of passengers waiting to board the next train to Manhattan, mostly middle-aged couples heading into the city to catch dinner and the latest must-see Broadway show. They were paunchy, gray-haired men in rumpled suits talking about golf and the stock market. Their well-preserved wives wore too much makeup, shiny evening fabrics, and showy gold jewelry. They discussed sending the kids back to school and what the humidity does to their hair.
This second group reminded me of my parents, so much so that I suddenly got this strange idea that any two of these anonymous fifty-somethings could have been my parents out on a date. I had actually looked forward to presenting this as evidence to my sister that my mother wasn’t going to leave my father after all. I did a double take, and my heart sank when I realized that I could do a triple, quadruple, and quintuple take and I still wouldn’t see them actually socializing together in public because they never do.
“OW!” squealed Other Girl after a skin-on-skin smack. “You suck!”
The Princeton Tigers had made their way to the platform, and they were passing the time by playing slapsies.
“If I suck, then why”—slap!—“do”—slap!—“I”—slap!—“win”—slap!—“every”—slap!—“time?” Slap! Slap!
“The alcohol has dulled my reflexes!”
“Admit it,” Thick Neck said, “you are the fairer but weaker”—slap!—“sex….”
Other Girl lived for stealing attention away from Cute Girl. A lopsided smile was barely hidden behind her fake frown. I started to feel sorry for Other Girl.
“I’m telling you, no one even knows what happiness means,” insisted Pseudo-Philo Fucktard, still not giving up.
Then the Northeast Corridor train pulled in with a piercing squeal that mercifully drowned out the rest of the undergraduate conversation.
I could’ve helped them out if I had wanted to. For Think, I kept up on the science of happiness because most people, but Americans in particular, want to be happy. I know that people are unhappier about the opportunities they pass up (saying no) than those they accept (saying yes), even if the opportunity doesn’t turn out the way they hoped it would. I also know that people are happier when they set a short, strict time limit for decision-making (one week) and that married couples are happier than singles. (Well.)
Are these the reasons I didn’t come right out and reject your proposal last week?
No. I think it was something else entirely, like the temporary amnesia brought on by your kisses. Sexual arousal releases oxytocin, a hormone that turns on the body and shuts off the brain.
Basically, you kissed me out of my right mind.
And I cannot let you do it again this afternoon.