so bad!
“You two weren’t the right fit,” Ben says, like he’s trying to ease my suffering.
If he wants to ease my suffering, he should try putting that paper bag over his head. Cover up some of that charm. Now that would ease my suffering.
“What kind of bagels did you get?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Variety pack. You?”
“Same. Madison?”
“Uh huh?”
His hand hits my shoulder. “There’s a nice guy out there for you. It’s just not Andy.”
He sounds so confident, I actually believe him.
Wow this is embarrassing. I wonder what Andy told him when he brought all this up. If he laughed, I’ll die right here and now.
“Want to eat?” he says gently. He’s scared I’m going to shatter. I refuse to give in to the urge. Instead, I wrap up my hurt as carefully as possible, trying to compartmentalize the pain so I can focus on this moment. I don’t want him to see me like this: pathetic and sad and lonely. So, I take a deep breath and shrug. The smile I aim at him is halfway genuine.
“Sure.”
We eat bagels on the floor of the multipurpose room like it’s a grand picnic. He tells me about his job, why he likes being a lawyer, the thrill of growing his business. I listen intently, not because I care at all about legal proceedings but because of how compelling he is when he talks about his career. Am I this passionate about children’s books? Hilariously enough, I think I am.
After we scarf down as many bagels as we can handle, we finish setting up for a jungle-themed story time. When the kids arrive with their parents, Ben helps me pass out paper masks that turn the kiddos into ferocious lions, tigers, and snakes. Everyone sits in a semicircle and I stand at the front holding up a book, projecting my voice so everyone can hear me. Ben leans against the wall, watching me with a smile, especially when I go for it with the animal sounds. Apparently, I make a very compelling elephant. He tells me so as we’re cleaning up.
One second, he’s half complimenting, half teasing me, and then the next, he turns and asks casually, “Want to get lunch?”
I hide my shock and offer a casual shrug. “Oh…yeah. That’d be fun.”
And we do get lunch. We order sandwiches to-go at a deli down the street and we take them to the park. It’s our second picnic of the day, but this time, we’ve really mastered it. We pick a nice shady spot and Ben unwraps our food. We replay all the funny moments of the morning while we eat, and when I’m done, I lie back on the grass, staring up at the underbelly of the oak tree stretched over us.
I can feel Ben watching me from where he sits a few feet away. I’m wondering what’s on his mind a moment before he tells me.
“I feel bad the setup with Andy didn’t work out.”
My stomach squeezes tight. I keep my attention on the tree as I hum a noncommittal reply. Please, do we have to talk about this again? Anything else, I beg you.
“Did you really like him?”
I still can’t find words, so I shake my head.
“If you’re willing to take another chance on love,” he continues, a bit teasingly, “I could find you someone else. Just tell me what you’re looking for in a potential boyfriend and we’ll go from there.”
I pop up on my elbows, surprised. “Like physically?”
He smirks. “Sure.”
I’m skeptical. “Why do you want to know?”
He wipes his hands clean of sandwich crumbs and then bends one knee up to his chest so he can prop his arms on it. He’s the poster child for relaxed confidence. “Because if you want me to set you up with someone, I should know what to look out for, don’t you think?”
“Oh, right.”
I lie back down as I think so I can almost pretend he’s not there, listening to me. I can be as honest as I want to be, and right now, the truth seems to want to spill right out of me.
I think of Ben and how to describe what I like about him, how he makes me feel. I can’t just tell him: you. Find someone exactly like you. Find someone who happens to have all the indefinable qualities you have. So, instead, I dig deep and try to think of why I’m so drawn to him.
“I want to feel exhilarated in his presence,” I start.