Savannah insisted on helping me prepare dinner, since she’d heard some of my cooking horror stories and probably feared for her safety. She showed up with all the fixings for homemade pizzas and we got to work. And by “we got to work,” I mean she rolled all the pizza dough by hand into perfect circles while I grated cheese.
I prepped her for an evening with my friends while we worked. “Just don’t talk about work, okay?” That about summed it up. Nothing else was off-limits. Honestly, I was the only reason work talk was even off-limits in the first place.
Kendra and Grant showed up first without Riley, who was at his Nana’s for a slumber party. Savannah shook their hands, complimented Kendra’s curls and asked Grant if he was a Sox fan. She won them both over in ten seconds—a new record.
Once pleasantries were out of the way, Kendra excused herself to “rest her eyes” on the couch in my living room. Grant offered to help with dinner, so Savannah set him up with some vegetables to dice. I noted that I couldn’t be trusted with this high-risk task but, strangely, I was okay with it. I left them in the kitchen and started to wander my house—gave Finn a quick hello and some fish food, dusted a few picture frames on the table in my hallway, checked my teeth in the mirror. Kendra snoozed peacefully through all my bustling and I was thankful she couldn’t see my fidgeting festival. When Christian walked through the front door, I realized I’d been hovering, waiting for him.
Knowing Savannah would be here, he’d taken a little extra care of his appearance. His shirt was tucked in, his hair presentably neatened, and his glasses swapped for contact lenses. I hugged him, trying to act normal, and hung up his jacket just to have something to do.
“Is she here?” he asked, looking around.
“In the kitchen.” He followed me through the dining room to find the chefs at work. A row of small pizzas, all a perfect golden brown, sat along my kitchen island—some plain, some covered in veggies, others piled high with various meats. “You remember Savannah,” I staged the introduction, as if it were my idea all along. Technically, it was.
She turned, a coy smile on her lips, and offered her hand. He shook it, his eyes locked on hers as though he were waiting for something to happen. I stood next to Grant, watching the romance unfold.
“Ouch,” Grant whispered in my ear. “Can you let go of my arm please? You’re hurting me.”
“Sorry,” I whispered back, wiping my hands on my jeans instead.
“Pizza’s okay, I hope,” Savannah said to Christian.
“I
love
pizza,” he replied.
“Me too. Isn’t it just the best food?” she sighed. It was an odd thing to say, but she did it with such sincerity and reverence that I wondered if I’d been taking our Americanized Italian food for granted these many years. “Especially with bacon. Do you like bacon on your pizza?”
“That’s my favorite kind!”
As Christian poured Savannah a drink and led her into the dining room, chattering all the way, Grant looked at me with a strange expression. One I’d only seen him use on Kendra when she insisted that disposable diapers would one day be the undoing of mankind. Incredulousness, that’s the word for it.
“What?”
“That was interesting,” he leaned back on the counter, sizing me up. He crossed one foot over the other, swirled his glass of scotch. “Didn’t expect that to happen this time.”
“What?” I said again, growing irritated. “You didn’t expect
what
, Grant?”
“Another setup.” He tipped back the end of his drink.
I scoffed. “I’m not setting him up, okay? She’s just a friend from work. I thought it might be nice to have some fresh opinions around here.”
“Or fresh meat.” He smirked, utterly pleased with his own wit. “So why are you so nervous, then?”
“I’m not nervous, okay? I just… want them to like each other.”
“So this was your idea?” He chuckled. “Fess up already.”
“Whatever you think is going on here, Peterson, it’s not. He asked me to bring her. Okay?”
“Fine. No problem.” He pushed off the counter, refilled his glass, and headed for the hallway. “I’m just saying you should think this through before something happens and you can’t fix it.”
Once he was gone, I poured a scotch for myself, lifted it to my lips, and spit a mouthful into the sink. Disgusting stuff, scotch. Christian’s laughter danced in from the dining room and I reconsidered my glass. I downed it in one gulp, wiped the back of my hand across my mouth—as any proper woman does—and fought off a cringe. Shake it off, Tessa. I took a deep breath and marched into the dining room.
****
Christian asked Savannah out to dinner after Friday’s re-re-meeting and I had to pat myself on the back for being so right about them. When you’re good, you’re good. They’d absolutely hit it off, finally discovering all the little wonderful things they had in common, from favorite bands to childhood ambitions. Actually, that was the first time I’d ever heard that five-year-old Christian wanted to be ‘Frogger’ when he grew up.
I sat across from them that night, gnawing mindlessly on slice after slice of Hawaiian pizza, and speculated on all the wonderful things life together would bring them. Marriage, a home, perfect children, a family dog. I was extremely satisfied knowing I’d orchestrated Christian’s happily-ever-after, if only a little. There was only one major downside to their pairing, as I learned the following Monday morning: Savannah was an over-sharer.
“Oh my God, Tess! I can’t even believe how amazing he is! Who knew all this time we were working together that you were best friends with my soul mate!”
Soul mate? “Well, Savannah, you only just met.”
“I know! That’s what makes this so amazing. You know, when he kissed me—”
“He kissed you?” That seemed awfully fast for my friend, no matter how close to thirty he was getting. “Already?”
“On the cheek,” Savannah said, failing to hide her disappointment. My shoulders relaxed. “Anyway, I just know this was meant to be. Did you know that he wants two girls and a boy?” I knew. “That’s what I want!”
I smiled as though to say,
Oh great!
“And did you know that his favorite cereal is Honey Nut Cheerios, but he likes to eat them dry?” She waited until I nodded again. “So do I! This is just so creepy!”
Sensing that this could well go on for hours, I dodged her invitation to lunch and dove back into my increasing workload. Hearing about Christian from a love-drunk soon-to-be girlfriend was nauseating. Although I had to chuckle to myself, remembering how seriously Christian always took his search for true love. Cinematic romance had gotten into his brain and warped it a bit. I used to think he expected that a girl would walk into a room and he’d know right away she was the one. Kendra and I had always teased him about finding his soul mate.
Sure, it was abnormal for a
guy
to be the one pining for a happy marriage. Stereotypically speaking, women are often the ones chasing men for commitment and that mandatory piece of paper. To Christian, a marriage license was a goal, not a threat. He had always been the perfect boyfriend from start to finish, even when we dated for that weekend in fifth grade. Staring out my window at my perfect view of Boston’s skyline, I could remember every detail of that weekend together. He asked me out before school on Friday, just days after breaking it off with Kendra.
“It turns out she’s not the one,” he said, a bit disappointed. “But we’ve decided to stay friends. It was a mutual decision.”
I laughed. “Oh?”
“So I thought maybe you might like to be my girlfriend. You know, see how it goes?”
“You think I’m the one?”
“Well, I guess I don’t know, do I?” He shrugged. “I mean, we’re really good friends. We know everything about each other already, and we like each other.”
“Yeah, but friends don’t get married.” I frowned at him. He swatted a bug from his face, then looked at me very seriously.
“Sure they do, Tessie.”
So that night, Christian called me just like he always did, but differently this time. My mother answered, in a rare moment of domesticity, and yelled up the stairs to me.
“Tessa, there’s a boy on the phone who says he’s your boyfriend. But it sounds like Christian.”
Embarrassed, I sprinted down the stairs, scooped up the phone, and barked at him. “What are you doing? My mom’s going to tell everyone I have a boyfriend.”
“Tessa Monroe,” he said grandly, ignoring my fury. “Would you do me the honor of a date this weekend?” Always a gentleman, even at the awkward age of eleven.
I tried to argue, but learned quickly I couldn’t shake him of the foolish notion that we were a couple. “Okay, fine. But it better not get weird after this.”
We went to the movies together and he paid. We saw
Jurassic Park
that day—my choice, one I quickly regretted when T-rex was on the loose. Although he jumped right along with me, Christian held my hand during the scary parts and stuck his chin out bravely. He even offered the popcorn bag for me to hide behind.
On the following Monday at school, an unusual tension hovered around our lunch table. He’d spent every morning class sitting next to me, tried to share everything in his lunch box, and talked endlessly about our future. Christian wasn’t clingy, per se, but he sure had big plans for the two of us. Kendra rolled her eyes as he detailed what kind of house we’d buy, what he’d be when he grew up, what I’d be when I grew up, and how many children we’d have. He said I could pick their names, though, and that’s when I finally had to put an end to it all.
“Things are weird,” I told him, matter-of-factly. “I don’t think this is going to work.”
“But I think you might be the one.” His protest came quickly, but feebly. Even then he knew fifth-graders don’t typically fall in love for life.
“Let’s just go back to the way things were. Me and you and Kendra, best friends. That’s it, okay?”
He agreed and we found a happy balance in the following years. Christian dated selectively but often, trying to find the woman of his dreams. Many failed attempts later—including the tornado that was Marcy—and here we were, almost back where we began. Thank goodness for Savannah, or else it might’ve gotten weird again.
I hardly came up for air for the rest of the day. At some point, someone brought me a yogurt from the break room. It was the only thing I ate all day. Someone else, or possibly the same someone, kept topping off my coffee cup for me. Nothing compelled me to leave my office, the content I was editing, or the layout I was, well, laying out. Until my bladder suddenly threatened to burst.
I sprinted to the ladies’ room and into the first open stall to—ahem—take care of business. As I was re-buckling my belt, still inside the stall, I heard the door to the bathroom open and two pairs of feet walk in. Savannah gabbed away and a second girl interjected the occasional “Uh huh” to sound interested.
“He sounds great,” the second girl finally said. Possibly Rachel the admin. Or Claire from accounting. “I bet he’s unbelievable in the sack.”
Rachel. That was definitely Rachel. She thought the definition of “girl talk” was comparing how guys performed—or didn’t perform, as in the case of one of Rachel’s ex-boyfriends—in the sack. The sack? Like anyone actually called it that anymore.
I heard Savannah playfully slap Rachel’s arm, a reaction somewhat resembling what I wanted to do to her. The word ‘playful’ didn’t factor into my version at all. Her weird fixation on sex was really irritating and not at all work-appropriate, especially when concerning my best friend and his new almost-girlfriend.
“Anyway,” Savannah said loudly. “Back to what I was saying.” Here we go, more gushing. “I can’t believe I’ve finally found someone I like. When I first met him, I thought he was snob.” Christian, a snob? “But then I realized he was just shy. Like me. Once I saw through his hard outer layer, I could see how beautiful he was inside.”
Wait, what? She’s been reading too many romance novels. Still, an overly romantic nature was just one more thing they had in common. Savannah blabbered on and on for a few more moments, while I stood frozen in the bathroom stall, afraid to think too loudly. At this point, I’d been in there too long to casually walk out and say, “Oh hey, guys. Fancy meeting you here.” They’d know I heard every word. By the same token, every second I stayed put made this offense so much worse. I felt dirty violating Savannah’s privacy.
“He’s Tess’s friend, so I know he’s a good guy,” Savannah’s pining was palpable even through the metal stall door. At the mention of my name, it became my conversation to hear. “You’ve probably seen him around. I think he comes in to visit her, like, once a month.” He did, but it was weird Savannah knew that. Maybe she noticed him earlier than I realized.
“So what’s wrong with him?” Good old annoying Rachel asked this with a certain expectation in her voice. “Two kids already? Three ex-wives? A gambling habit? Syphilis?”