my hands into the warm soapy water and go to work on a charred pan.
“His name is David Rose by the way.”
I glanced at Laura, confused. “Who?”
She rubs the pot dry and avoids eyes. “The lawyer I told you about. That’s his name.”
I feel my shoulders tense. “What kind of a last name is Rose?”
“I think it was changed from Rosen or Rosenberg, maybe. He’s cute. He looks a little like Matthew Broderick.”
“Matthew Broderick isn’t cute.”
“Well, maybe not when compared to Channing Tatum or Brad Pitt. But compared to the average guy on the street, Matthew Broderick is pretty cute.”
She’s has a point. As she finishes the pot, I hand her the clean pan. “No,” I answer firmly.
“Come on Andy,” she whines, jutting her hip out. “What have you got to lose?”
“It isn’t about having anything to lose. I’m just not up for it, okay?”
“I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“I already gave him your number.” She bites her lip and then winces as I stare wide-eyed at her.
“You’re joking,” I exclaim in disbelief.
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. But I had no idea you’d say no and actually mean it.”
“You gave him my number before you even asked me?”
She nods, looking contrite.
“What if he’d called? I’d have no idea who he was.”
“He wouldn’t have called you yet because he was going to be away visiting his family in Montreal, and he isn’t going to be back until tomorrow.”
“He’s Canadian!”
“I guess. So what?”
“Nothing.” My shoulders slump in defeat. I can’t think of anything wrong with Canadians. I’m just upset in general.
“Come on,” she nudges me with her hip. “What’s the big deal? At worst, you’ll get a free dinner out of it.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” I mutter.
“How many times do I have to tell you,” she points the dishtowel at me. “You don’t offer to pay for dinner when you’re on a date.”
I hold my hands up in silent surrender. I’m not getting into that discussion again with her. “He probably won’t call anyway,” I say. Everyone is always trying to indiscriminately set me up with single men they know or barely know. I stopped protesting too vigorously because, generally, none of them ever actually called me.
The washing is finished, and I feel the need to soap the greasy water off my hands. I grab my purse and head for the bathroom, leaving Laura to finish up. I also want to check my cell phone to see if Katie has called. She’s been on my mind all day. Happy to see that I do indeed have a message, I dial into my voicemail. But no one ever calls when I expect them to.
“Hi, Andrea. It’s Ryan. I ended up having to go to New York last week, so I wasn’t around. But I hope you’re having a good holiday weekend. Give me a call when you get a chance. Talk to you soon.”
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it. Had I imagined him asking me out for Thursday last week and telling me that he would call me? He left a message as though he hadn’t completely blown me off. Maybe it’s me. I shake my head at my phone incredulously.
If I were to look for an example of a long, happy marriage, I wouldn’t have to look any further than my parents. They have their issues, and they certainly do their fair share of fighting, but they love each other and they are able to weather all issues that arise--not necessary easily or even gracefully--but eventually. Their caring is evidenced in everything they say and do. They are an entity unto themselves and have been for over thirty years, Jack and Karen. When you say one name, you automatically say the other.
We leave the barbecue just after the dessert, homemade strawberry shortcake, was served. It’s the earliest we could make our exit without seeming rude. Laura and I finished the main meal cleanup, leaving my parents with only the dessert dishes to handle.
“So you think I should call him back?” I ask. I told them about the message from Ryan once we were back in the car.
“He could have forgotten about your date,” Jonathan suggests. “It happens.”
“Compared to not walking you to your car, this isn’t quite as bad,” Laura adds from the front seat.
I shake my head. “Why are we always measuring how bad, on a general scale of badness, something a guy did was? Why