Complicated (5 page)

After an agonizing argument with myself, I send Zach a quick text to thank him for our date. Then I spend nearly an hour debating over word choice, typing and retyping it until I convince myself to hit “Send.” The final version reads:
Thanks for last night.
Four words. It still seems too stiff. He replies almost immediately.

No problem.

What’s no problem, I wonder, shaking the phone and trying to make it add anything to his response. Another few words, an emoticon, anything. But it doesn’t.

I go into the kitchen and decide to bake some cookies so my lie isn’t as tainted. I don’t think I have to work with Lori again until next week, but I make a mental note to look up cookie-charities in case it ever comes up again.

I pull out the flour, sugar, and chocolate chips, but we don’t have eggs. I leave the non-perishables on the counter and take the bus to the large Safeway. I live near downtown so the real grocery stores are a bit of a trip but the price difference is usually worth it and I trust their dairy products more than I do from tiny two-aisled mini-marts.
 

I spot Zach’s spiked blue hair in the cereal aisle. I consider turning back, sneaking out, and running home but before I can make a move, his gaze fixes on me.

“Hey,” I say. “Guess I’m stalking you now.”

“How the tables have turned.” He smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He grabs a box of oat rings and puts it into his hand basket. “What’s up?”

“I need eggs. You?”

“Just a few grabbing things on my way home.” I realize we’re near the club where Anubis’ Arrow’s last gig was at. I came here out of habit, as it’s the shortest trip by bus. I didn’t even consider the possibility of running into anyone.
 

“Oh, cool,” I hesitate. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” He smiles wryly. “Can I ask you a question?”
 

My stomach lurches but I nod.
 

“We’re not going to date again, are we?”
 

The floor is not merciful enough to open up and swallow me. I clear my throat, which suddenly feels dry. “It’s not you.”
 

He smiles like I’ve given him a huge compliment. “Of course not. I mean, look at me.” He gestures to himself, lifting his free hand up and down like a game show model. “It’s the singer guy, isn’t it?”

Side-swiped by the question, I stammer. Pretend to be confused about his meaning. He gives me a hard look and flicks his lip ring with his tongue.

“Yeah,” I finally say.

“He’s hot, for a dude who wears flannel,” Zach agrees, with a hint of amusement crinkling his eyes.

“It’s not like we’re a thing. I mean, we’re not dating or anything. I wouldn’t have done that to you.”

Zach’s face softens. “I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Liking someone else a little bit more?” He shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry about that.”
 

“How did you know?”

“To be honest, I suspected it at the show the night we met. But when you agreed to go out, I thought maybe I’d imagined it.” He takes a package of cookies off the shelf. “Yesterday, though, I saw your face when he walked away. It was pretty obvious. I sort of hoped—“ he drops the cookies into his basket and shrugs.

He gets milk, I get eggs. We both check out at the register and take our paper bags outside. “You are really great, Zach.”

“I’ll try to accept that as the fundamental truth it is rather than a consolation prize.”

I wince a little and Zach puts a hand on my shoulder. “I meant that to be funny. I still want to be your friend, you know. You’re awesome. Not as awesome as me, but I set a high bar.”

I smack him in the shoulder and he drops his arm. “I want to be friends, too.”

“Good. Then it’s settled. We are friends.” He winks, turning his head, and sun glints on his earring.

We shake hands. “Friends.”

Back home, I feel better. Guilt and fear that I’ve ruined whatever tenuous little thing I had with David still worms through me, icy and hard to ignore, but at least Zach and I are okay.
 

I text David as a follow up to the e-mail I sent about the gig poster. He doesn’t reply. I give up and get baking.

I chat with Katy briefly over the next few days, but she’s busy with classes and I pick up an extra shift when Jared, one of my coworkers, calls out sick. By the time Friday rolls around, I can’t wait for my shift to end.
 

Katy texts me and says I should come over. They’re having another Friday Night Bash at Chez Huan. I don’t reply. I need to think about the ramifications of facing David, especially if I’m going to be a few margaritas to the wind.  

David still hasn’t replied to me about the gig posters. If the show is in three weeks, he should be plastering them all over town by now. Maybe he printed them himself. I did send the full file. I try not to let that thought cut at me, but it does. He could at least thank me.
 

“Well?” Katy asks on the phone. She calls three minutes after my shift ends and sounds impatient. “Are you coming or what? I need to know how many tacos to order.”

“You’re ordering tacos?”

“Brain wants to do Cinco de Mayo.”

“That was three weeks ago.”

“Tell me about it. But he brought over a piñata and everything, so I think we’re stuck.”

A belated Cinco de Mayo party sounds like a blast, except for the massive cloud of awkwardness that might hover over the party. I tell Katy I’m not feeling well and I can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Alice can give you a ride. Be ready in an hour.”

“Katy, what about David?”

There’s a long pause. “You’re both adults. Act like it.” She hangs up.

I put on a skirt and vaguely Spanish top I bought, with ruffles and embroidered flowers. I wish I had a big sombrero to hide under.
 

Alice picks me up dressed in black lace and blue vinyl, the kind of outfit one might wear to a nightclub, not a small house party. But she looks good and I admire her dedication to style. Side by side, we look like we’re both going to parties on opposite sides of the planet.
 

We stop off to buy a few different bottles of tequila. I chip in some cash I have on me from my tips that morning.

“This does not bode well,” I say as we load the car.

“You don’t have to work tomorrow, right?” Alice shuts the trunk. “Besides, David loves tequila.”

I know that. He loves to do a shot of tequila to celebrate after a good gig. He he always licks the salt first instead of after. I know so much about David I could burst. I second guess my decision to go.

“I notice you didn’t bring that guy you’re dating.”

“We decided just to be friends.”

“Ah,” Alice says, in that way that indicates she’s gotten way more from one sentence than she possibly could have.

Katy answers the door with a grin. “I have a surprise,” she whispers. “Jamie is here.”
 

It takes my brain a second to connect the name to someone. “The hot fireman,” I say when it clicks.

Brian, Jamie, and David are out in the yard hanging up a multi-colored piñata. I know because as soon as she finishes grinning about her date, Katy reports David’s whereabouts like it’s a dire weather forecast. Mike kisses Alice hello and they go outside to join the others. Ray and Dennis are picking up the food on their way.

Katy’s put out large plastic bowls of tortilla chips.

I grab a chip and crunch down while Katy gets a jar of salsa out of the fridge.
 

“How were your finals?” I ask.
 

Katy’s last test was this morning. Trish’s finals aren’t for another week and she’s been spending every waking second running the sewing machine. I’m not sure which of us will be more relieved when it’s over.

“Good. I think I did pretty well, overall.” Katy dumps the salsa into a bowl. “How’s your week been?”

“Great.” I consider rehashing the cookies-for-charity lie to have something worth mentioning. “Just working. Same old, same old.”
 

She gives me a quick look and puts the salsa on the table. Then she goes to work on the blender, pouring a generous amount of tequila over ice. She tops it off with green margarita mix that’s probably supposed to evoke the color of limes but is closer to toxic waste glowing green. When the first round is mixed, she pours it into plastic cups and sets them on a tray.
 

“Want one?”

“I’ll wait,” I say. She goes to hand out drinks. I wander into the living room and sit on the sofa. Ray and Dennis walk in without knocking, both carrying large aluminum trays that smell delicious, like onion and spices.
 

“There’s one more bag in the car. Do you mind?” Dennis asks.
 

“Not at all.”
 

In the open trunk of their car, there’s one of those insulated bags that keeps things cold or hot. I close the trunk and take it inside. Katy and Ray are setting up the food on the table. There’s a tray of tacos in different varieties, mini quesadillas, and enchiladas. I pull a container out of the bag I brought in. It’s a tub of guacamole so large a small cat could bathe in it. Beneath that is a bean dip and a corn and bean salad.

“Got enough food?” I ask.

“For this crew?” Ray asks. “Doubtful. I’m pretty sure Brian and Dennis could polish this off alone.”
 

Brian comes into the kitchen and mixes up another round of margaritas. He hands me one automatically because I’m not holding a cup and despite his penchant for making drinks extra strong, I take it. To his credit, it tastes exactly like the blended kind I get at Loco Taco when I go for Happy Hour. Sweet and sour, but not too much tequila.
 

I catch David watching me out of the corner of my eye through the sliding glass doors. He hasn’t come inside since I arrived.
 

I take my plate of food out to the picnic table and join Alice, Mike, Dennis, and Jamie. Jamie’s talking about the requirements to become a fireman. “It’s not as difficult as people think, but it’s a time commitment. When you’re on call, you’re on call.”
 

“That would sort of cramp my rock star lifestyle,” Brian says.

“You work at a insurance firm,” Mike says.

“Just to pay the bills.”
 

When everyone’s finished eating, Brian stands and announces it’s “Piñata Time.” He produces a plastic baseball bat and explains the rules. Everyone gets two smacks with the blindfold. Brian will control the rope. If no one breaks it, we do a second round without the blindfold. Rinse, repeat.
 

“Can’t make it too easy,” Brian says. “Katy, want to go first?”
 

“Sure. But only if you don’t cry when I bust it open.”
 

My phone rings. It’s Coffee Harbor’s number. I go inside, through the kitchen to the living room, but by the time I get there the call has gone to voicemail. The message is from my boss. Jared’s out sick again for tomorrow’s shift, so they want me to come in. On my day off. My thumb hovers over the redial as I consider whether I want to do it. It would be overtime pay, which is nice. But I was also looking forward to sleeping in.
 

“Important call?”
 

David leans in the doorway.

“Work. They want me to cover for someone tomorrow.”
 

“Are you?”

“I don’t know.” I don’t want to and that should be enough. After all, I already covered one shift for Jared this week. But my sense of duty says I should help out my coworkers in their time of need.
 

“You didn’t bring your date,” David says. He moves into the room tentatively, as if testing the result of every inch. “You could have, you know. I’d behave.” He smiles. There’s something sad about it but I appreciate the effort he’s making.

“It didn’t work out.”
 

He raises an eyebrow. “I have to admit, I’m not sorry to hear that.”
 

“No, of course you aren’t. God forbid your sex-buddy gets a real boyfriend.” David closes the distance between us. He strokes my cheek with his fingers and pushes my frizzy hair behind my shoulder.
 

“That’s not why.” His voice is low. His breath brushes over my skin like a caress.
 

“Don’t you have a piñata to kill?”
 

He smiles and presses his lips to mine. It’s a quick kiss but it’s enough. My heart races and I resist the urge to put my arms around him.

“I’d rather be with you,” he says. His lips trail down my jaw and kiss my throat. I make an involuntary noise and he repeats the motion.

“David, stop.”

He pulls back, drops his hands. “Sorry. I thought—“ He looks around, searching for some reason I might have stopped him, but there isn’t anything. His eyes turn back to me, searching my face. “I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you,” I say, exasperated.
 

Ray comes in, hesitates, clearly realizing he’s interrupting something personal. “The piñata awaits.”
 

David gives me an unreadable look but follows Ray out of the room.
 

I dial work to say I have plans tomorrow and can’t cover. “Hey, Mary, this is Han—”

“Thank goodness. I’ve called everyone else. Please tell me you can do it.”
 

“Actually—”

“You’re the only one who can. Nathan is already closing tomorrow and I have a birthday party for my niece. Please. I’ll owe you big.”
 

I can’t say no to family obligations. Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do. I never do. I’m just a young, single woman with one lousy job and no life.
 

“Fine. But you
do
owe me.”
 

“Thanks, Hannah, you’re the best.”
 

I click off and check at the time. It’s only nine, but if I don’t want to end up doing tequila shots I will regret, I should probably go. I find Katy on the porch and hug her, explaining the predicament. The piñata is on the ground, broken, with candy scattered around it. David, Brian, and Alice are arguing about who won. I see Alice is holding a second aluminum bat.