then.”
He was gone before I could make up some excuse for not going. Fifteen minutes? I studied my reflection in the mirror across from my bed. I needed more like fifteen hours. My hair was a virtual rat’s nest and my eyes were bloodshot from a nap that went on about four hours longer than it should have. I would never be able to recreate the Barbra Streisand hairdo in fifteen minutes. I threw my legs over the side of the bed and hung my head while I straightened out my thoughts.
“Your boyfriend is still unavailable,” I reminded myself. “You’re not doing anything wrong.” I got up and stood for a moment, trying to quell the feelings of guilt and paranoia that bubbled in my gut. My internal monologist is not a very good debater and even I couldn’t convince myself that going out with Jack again was the right thing, or even a good thing, to do.
But I don’t have caller ID, so I couldn’t call him back to tell him that I couldn’t go. And when I hit *69, I was told that his number was unavailable. He probably blocked it so that Kevin couldn’t bug him about Ranger tickets constantly.
After brushing away the fuzz that had taken up residence in my mouth during my nap, I decided on my outfit. What does one wear to a casual dinner with a friend? I erased the word “date” from my mind and started getting dressed. I settled on a pair of jeans that Max had bought me and which I was sure cost a few hundred dollars. They sure didn’t look, or fit, like the jeans I buy at Target and a quick check revealed that my ass had never looked better. I pulled on a clean T-shirt and a suede blazer from my closet to complete the look. I decided I didn’t have the strength for the Funny Girl coif and ran a brush through my hair enough times to flatten it down against my scalp. After a couple of swipes of mascara and some lip gloss, I looked and felt better than I had just moments before.
I sat on the bed and was pulling on my shoes when I heard the doorbell ring. I stood and confronted myself in the mirror. Channeling my inner Max, I gave myself one last look and tried to get excited about going out with a handsome, single man, but again, all I could come up with was a feeling of guilt. With a side order of guilt. Would you like some guilt with your guilt?
Jack had a bouquet of flowers at his side when I opened the front door. And yes, he was as gorgeous as I remembered him. What was wrong with this guy? Why hadn’t some intrepid female Ranger fan found and lassoed him? I had never asked if he was the Chewbacca costume–wearing brother, but it didn’t matter. He was a catch, and I couldn’t figure out why, at close to forty years old, he hadn’t been caught. He had a big smile on his face and seemed genuinely happy to see me. I opened the door wide and let him in. We embraced awkwardly and I was grateful to have the excuse to get the flowers in water to break the hug.
Jack followed me into the kitchen. “How have you been? Have things settled down?”
I found a vase in one of the cabinets and put it in the sink to fill it with water. I didn’t want to go into the more sordid aspects of my life, like how a chubby mobster followed me around and made vague threats to me, so I just shrugged and smiled. “Sort of.”
“Kevin said that the wedding was nice.”
I kind of had a feeling that Jack knew more about me and my situation than he was letting on. I’m sure Kevin had filled him in on the whole thing. “It was lovely,” I said noncommittally.
When it was clear that he wasn’t getting any more out of me, he turned to the subject of dinner. “Where would you like to go for dinner? You’re more familiar with Westchester than I am so whatever you suggest is fine.”
It was early so I suggested that we go to a popular waterfront restaurant by the train station. When we got there, only a few tables were taken, so Jack asked for one that had a river view. After we settled in and ordered drinks, we