Up & Out - Ariella Papa [113]
“No, well, yes. I don’t know that I’m in the right place,” I say.
“What do you mean?” I look around Union Square. It’s starting to get more crowded.
“I don’t know. Lately I feel like I am not sure what I’m doing. You know my whole life.” I sound like I’m pleading with him. And for what—to leave me alone? Is that what I want? I don’t know. I just don’t know if I’m ready to get close to someone, to be disappointed by them or to disappoint them, myself. It’s all happening so fast.
“I see.” He looks at me, like he can see through me.
“I know it sounds lame.”
“Yeah, it kind of does.” I wasn’t expecting that.
“What are we going to do? Start dating?”
“Why not?”
“We met at a bar. It’s weird.”
“To who?”
“Me. Everyone.”
“Not me and not you. Not the other night.”
“I know, but the other night wasn’t…” I really don’t know what to say. His expression is weakening my resolve. He wants something from me that I’m not sure how to give.
“What?”
“It was unreal.” He doesn’t say anything. “I was just getting used to being alone.”
“And that’s what you want? Why are you so scared?” Why is he so persistent? I make what I’m certain is a very exasperated face. He reaches out and touches the inside of my arm with his knuckle, like he did on the street. I was sweating—now I have chills.
“I’m not a psycho and I’m not interested in anyone else,” he says without removing his hand. “You know where I am. I won’t try to bother you again. The ball is in your court, Rebecca.”
“Okay.”
“Can I know your last name? Now that you know mine. In case I find out that you were the psycho killer.” I laugh, awkwardly.
“It’s Cole.”
“Rebecca Cole. That’s a beautiful name.”
“Thank you.” He is able to say the things I can’t. I sigh.
“Well, I hope I see you around, Rebecca Cole.” Here is my chance to say something to save this, but I don’t say anything special.
“Bye.” And he walks away. Who can blame him? Now it’s all up to me.
Great, I love it when the ball is in my court. Proactive is my middle name. Yep. Rebecca Proactive Cole. I wonder if he would think that was a beautiful name.
After meeting Ben, I no longer feel like running. I take the subway back up to Midtown. There is another ad for the Teaching Fellows. It says, “You made your dreams come true, how about someone else’s?” I think of Ben.
How about nobody’s?
There is a message from Meg, Hackett’s assistant, on my cell phone. She wants to set up a meeting with Hackett and me. I don’t get it. I’ve known Meg for a while and she had nothing to do with my layoff, so I call her.
“He didn’t say why, just wanted you to meet him at the Red Cat.” Yum. Talk about fresh fish…
“When?”
“Tomorrow at six.”
“I can’t make it until seven.” I know this is a stupid game.
“I’m sure that will be fine. Hey, did you hear what happened to Delores?”
“Yeah, from several people.”
“These things happen to people who don’t know how to order their own office supplies.” Ah-ha, assistant revenge. What a breath of fresh air.
Tommy calls me as I am rubbing the freshest fish in the city with salt and pepper.
“What’s up?” he asks. I can tell right away that he is going to tell me something I don’t want to hear or disappoint me somehow.
“I wasn’t sure if you were making dinner tonight. I wasn’t expecting you to, but if you were I wanted you to know that I wasn’t going to be home. I’m, um—not going to be around.” I appreciate the notification. It is unlike the Tommy I know. I failed to train him properly and now someone else is doing a better job. Perhaps Failure is a better middle name. Rebecca Failure Cole.
“Okay. Thanks for letting me know.” Cordial, now that might be a good one.
“You weren’t making dinner tonight, were you?”
“Of course not, don’t worry about it.”
“All right, see you tom—whenever.”
“Okay, bye.” I think about telling him to use a condom, but Martyr doesn’t appeal to me.
The freshest fish in New York gets wrapped in foil and saved for another day when it won’t taste as good. But then again, it might not taste very good tonight, alone.
I eat my usual