can tell he’s mistaking my growing animation for surprise. “That’s a lot of estrogen,” I tell him.
“It is. But there’s never a dull moment.”
From that point on, there are no more uncomfortable silences. We talk about our siblings, and I tell him that I envy his close relationship with his family. It’s the nicest conversation I’ve had in a long while and when he gets to his feet and announces that he has to go, I wish he didn’t.
“Thank you so much,” I say with all sincerity. “For staying, and for dinner. Here,” I consolidate the remaining slices into one box, “you can take the leftovers home.”
“No, it’s for you.”
I perk up at that. “Hey, thanks. Again. If there’s ever anything I can do for you . . .” Though I can’t imagine what I could possibly offer this man who so obviously has himself together.
“Actually, there is something. You don’t wear glasses do you?”
“Uh, no.” That was an abrupt shift. “Why?”
He groans. “My niece needs glasses and I don’t have a clue where to take her.”
I think it over for a second. “Don’t most optical places offer eye exams?”
He blows out a breath. “I never thought of that. Thanks. That gives me a place to start.”
I want to ask him why it’s his responsibility to take his niece to get her eyes checked. Isn’t his niece his sister’s daughter? There must be more to the dynamics of his family than he’s told me. But I can’t ask about it because we’re heading for the door and he’s about to leave – forever. As in I’ll never see him again. I hate how sad that makes me.
“So, hey,” he says as he pulls his boots on. “Will you be around on Friday evening? I’m going to fix your patio door.”
“You are?” I ask, surprised.
“Yeah, I am. And then we’ll go grab dinner.”
“Okay.” I feel a bright smile spread across my face.
For a second his easy confidence slips and I catch a glimpse of disquiet. “Not a date or anything, just –”
“No, of course not,” I interject quickly, and then my knee-jerk reaction morphs into amusement. “No dates . . . or anything,” I confirm blithely. Well that settles it then. He may not have a significant other, but Scott McCarthy is officially not interested.
His eyes narrow fleetingly. “Okay, I’ll see you around this same time on Friday?”
“Yep, it’s my day off, so I’ll be here.”
With a nod, he’s out the door.
I’m left standing there with myriad conflicting emotions swirling inside of me. Excitement: I’m going to see him again. Offense: What’s wrong with dating me? Embarrassment: I was a tad too eager. But screw it, when’s the last time I spent time with a nice guy? Years? Or more likely, never. I don’t think anyone I’ve ever dated could be categorized as nice.
I wonder why he’s not interested in dating me though . . . because clearly he doesn’t remember me as that girl on the sidewalk. Am I not his type? It’s true that I’m not wearing any makeup. Or maybe I’m too tall? Or it’s my mouth, I bet. I’ve always thought that my smile takes up too much of my face. Or maybe I’m falling back into my Piper persona. Ellie doesn’t need or want validation from any man – ever. And more importantly, dating anyone is out of the question at the moment. I need to stay focused on myself. If I’m going to see this guy again, I’ll have to keep that in mind.
Scott
I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. Has this woman no sense of self-preservation? Having some random guy off Craigslist come over when no one is around? What the fuck? I shake my head as I make my way home.
And her patio door has no lock! She lives on the ground floor for crying out loud. Supposedly she has three brothers. Where are they? Why aren’t they looking out for her?
It mollifies me somewhat that I could do her a solid after the way she helped me out. And there’s no way I’m not going to fix her patio door – I’d never be able to sleep again if I didn’t. I’m not sure I liked the flash of that megawatt smile though. Realizing she thought I was asking her out on a date set off all kinds of alarm bells. I don’t even date Latinas let alone white chicks . . . who are almost as tall as