Hungry for Love (11 page)

“
I could see myself with JoEllen until the end of time
,”
he replied. 
“
Look how reliably that worked out.
”

“
I
’
m just saying that maybe a nice gift
,
but a less diamond-specific one might be a better choice.
”

“
I know she wants an exercise room. I could have the guest house converted into a gym instead I guess.  Or do that and get her a bracelet.  A bracelet isn
’
t that promise of foreverish is it
?”

“
No
,”
said Laura
,
“
Maybe not. I just really wonder why you feel compelled to do all this.  I think there
’
s more happening here that maybe you don
’
t realize.
”

“
First you fatten me up at lunch and now you want to shrink me
?”
Bill joked.

Ben was busy on the computer
,
typing to one of his therapy clients.  He had just a few left who insisted on doing therapy via instant message
,
mostly the super shy ones who were afraid of having their voices heard
,
but he didn
’
t mind.  Helping people was helping people.  His day had improved after he parted with Angie and let her go on to her doctor
’
s visit.  There was always someone who needed his wisdom and if the one person he wanted most to help refused to comprehend what he was saying
,
there was always tomorrow.

Just as he signed off with Rex
,
a gay agoraphobic who felt guilty for hiring call boys and then not letting them into his apartment
,
Ben
’
s roommate Clint arrived with a pizza and a six-pack of beer.  Clint was the quintessential
California
boy
,
ripped
,
chiseled
,
gorgeous
,
and basically a congenial narcissist.

It didn
’
t take overly long for Clint to notice Ben
’
s hair and comment
,
“
Woah.  Cool.
”

Ben grunted in a miserable way
,
saying
,
“
I jump every time I look in the mirror.
”

“
No worries
,
dude
,
you
’
re totally cool.  Took guts for you to do that.
”

Ben flopped on the couch and shoved a slice of pizza in his mouth
,
speaking clumsily. 
“
I did it for Angie
,
but she still doesn
’
t know I
’
m alive.  It
’
s like she thinks we
’
re girlfriends.
”
  He sat chewing silently
,
pondering this untenable situation and then asked
,
“
What would you do
,
Clint
?
  I mean if a girl didn
’
t notice you
?”

The horror of such an improbability struck Clint deeply. 
“
Whoa!  Say what
?”

Ben answered earnestly
,
as though such a possibly could actually exist. 
“
You know—you like a girl but she doesn
’
t notice you.
”

“
You mean like she
’
s a lesbian
?”
asked Clint
,
sincerely.

Ben shook his head
,
his mouth stuffed with pizza. 
“
No
,”
he said emphatically
,
“
Just doesn
’
t notice you.
”

Clint was incredulous. 
“
And like she doesn
’
t come up to me and give me her number
?
  Dude!  That
’
s heavy.
”

“
I just have to make Angie see that I
’
m better for her than that old fart.
”
  He popped open a can of beer and took a deep swig. 
“
Right now for all I know
,
she thinks I
’
m gay.
”

Clint laughed. 
“
So tell her you
’
re straight.  Show her your macho side
,
they love that.  Let her watch you work out.  No
,
you don
’
t work out.
”
  Then it was as though the light had dawned and Clint had experienced some sort of religious conversion. 
“
Dude!  You gotta work out more.  Later tonight
,
you and me
,
shoot some hoops.
”

Ben hunched his shoulders and shrugged.  He knew hoops wasn
’
t the answer but what was the point of continuing.  It would be like asking Julia Child how to deal with people who never wanted to eat.

At the same moment
,
Angie was exiting her car and about to enter the guest house behind her dad
’
s home where she
’
d lived since she was old enough to have her own place.  Filled with excitement about her interaction with Kevin
,
she hummed a little tune and felt glad to be alive.  When she noticed her dad outside watering his lawn
,
she waved excitedly.

“
Hi Daddy!
”
she said with happiness and enthusiasm. 
“
Brought you some just-invented gelato—olive-praline.
”
  She smiled at her dad and walked toward him
,
balancing the containers adroitly.

Judge
,
whose crotchety demeanor made him seem far older than his fifty-two years
,
considered himself a nice guy who
’
d just been in a very bad mood for while
,
waved dismissively at his daughter.  Olive ice cream
?
  What the blazes was she talking about
?
 
“
You
’
re making footprints on the wet lawn
,”
he said
,
a touch too loud.

“
But I made this just for you
,”
she said
,
her outlook growing stormier by the moment.  Filled with the courage generated by her meeting with Dr. Flicker
,
she pressed on
,
sidestepping the stream of water adroitly and almost managing to place a kiss on her dad
’
s cheek. 

He said
,
“
Watch it
,
there
’
s water here.
”
And he stepped back a few feet.

She kept trying. 
“
Have you had dinner yet
?
  I could make you something.
”

He frowned. 
“
I can
’
t eat that wacky stuff you make.  You know that.  Don
’
t worry I can microwave something once the lawn is done.  You enjoy your evening.
”

Totally deflated
,
Angie walked away
,
turning back once to say
,
“
And you don
’
t want your special ice cream
?
  It
’
s Italian.
”

He shook his head and waved dismissively
,
without even seeing the fallen look on her face
,
and turned to water the side of the house.

Angie walked to her own doorway
,
turned the key in the lock and stepped inside
,
sad and seething.  It was always like this—why did she expect anything more
?
  She looked down at the containers she carried as though they held gelato flavored with arsenic.  Or maybe she wished they did.