Seattle Girl (22 page)

“I’ve got a good idea,” he said as he nuzzled into my hair.

“What’s that?”

“Let’s skip dinner and head straight to desert.”

And as he pierced me with his big blue eyes, I swear I believed every promise he had ever made to me about how much he loved me, and only me.

* * *

But the next morning as I headed into the studio for my show, I couldn’t shake off a funny feeling about our conversation. It was as if Brian had left out some important details, but I wasn’t sure how to find out which ones they were.

I had planned to do a show on “Your Worst First Date Ever,” but, as always, once I sat down in front of the mic, my mouth took over my brain.

“Good morning and welcome to Seattle Girl with Georgia Fulton. I hope everyone is gearing up for a great week. So here’s the question of the day: If you found out your lover was way more sexually experienced than you were, would it bother you?
 
I’m not talking about him having five previous girlfriends and you having two previous boyfriends. More like, he’s slept with the whole phone book and you’ve been pretty picky.”

A line lit up and I grabbed it. “Good morning. You’re on Seattle Girl with Georgia Fulton. What’s shakin’?”

“Hey Georgia,” a familiar voice said.

“Bill? Is that you?”

“Shoot. Now my cover of anonymity is shot.” He laughed. “I don’t want to ruin your show here, but I couldn’t resist tuning in and giving you a call to say hello.”

“Glad you did, Bill. Folks, Bill is the reason why I got into radio in the first place.” Embellishing for impact, I said, “I was so in awe of him when he was on the air, I couldn’t resist giving it a whirl myself.” I paused for a moment. “So, since I’ve got you on the line, why don’t you tell me what you think about sex differentials?”

“Sex differentials?”

“That’s right. Say your girlfriend has had more sexual partners than you?
 
How do you feel about it?”

“Geez. I guess, first I’d be worried about whether I measured up or not.”

“Interesting. What else?”

“Um, maybe I’d think she was a little slutty.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “I can see that. In fact, I don’t even think it’s a male-female thing. Just simply that there’s a cut off for slutdom.”

“Exactly. Plus, I guess I’d be wondering why she needed to sleep with so many people. I mean, sure I get the whole wanting sexual satisfaction thing, but what if she was doing it for some sort of validation?”

Bill had definitely hit on something and I got quiet for a moment. He continued, saying, “Or what if it’s some sort of healing thing for her, but it's actually backfiring and making her feel even worse?”

“Damn, Bill, you’re way too deep for 5 a.m.” Laughing I said, “I’ve got to take some of these other callers,” but as I hung up, I was more worried than I had let on.

* * *

Diane, Seth and I went for a road trip to Vancouver the next weekend. Brian was stuck in meetings with his graduate advisors so it seemed like a good enough way to pass the time without him.

Needless to say, I hadn’t brought up any of my concerns to Brian since the night he’d divulged his past to me. I didn’t want to seem like I was freaking out over nothing, so I tried to push our entire conversation out of my mind.

After all, I loved all of the time I spent with him. The sex was great and I couldn’t get enough of him. I liked everything about him from his big feet to his cynical sense of humor.

But in the car with my best friends, I confessed my fears, hoping they could knock some sense into me, and tell me to stop making mountains out of molehills.

Of course, they did the opposite. Diane looked at me in the rear-view mirror of her Lexus SUV. “Sounds to me like Brian is the classic tragic hero.”

“He’s the classic what?”

“You know, the guy who seems like he’s got everything rolling along pretty good, but then all of a sudden everything blows up in his face because of some flaw in his own personality.”

I shook my head and forced a laugh. “Have you been paying attention again in your English Literature class, Diane?”

“Hello! I’m an English major. Of course I pay attention. After four years I’d say I know more about fuckin’ tragic heroes than anyone else in this car. Take my word for it: from what you described, Brian definitely fits the bill. He’s like straight out of Shakespeare.”

Trying to rouse some support for my boyfriend, I tapped Seth on the shoulder. “Don’t you think she’s over-reacting and making up stuff?”

Seth turned around to face me. “Look, honey. I know you really like this guy.”

“I love him!” I protested.

Seth sighed. “So, you love him. I hear you, but... ”
 

I cut him off and said, “I think you guys are being overly melodramatic about his past.”

They gave each other a look that clearly said I was being a stubborn pain in the ass. But Diane must have been the person elected to the deal-with-our-nutty-friend post, because she looked at me in the rearview mirror again.

“I guess we both feel sort of bad about the advice we gave you for the last couple of guys you got involved with. You know, how we told you to have a fling, and then you ended up hurt by the way things turned out. So maybe this time we’re being overly cautious.” She paused so I could let her words sink in. “Georgia, all Seth and I are saying is we’re not sure that you can cure Brian and his past.”

I slumped back into the leather backseat and grunted. I was ever so slightly pissed at my friends for making me feel worse instead of better.

Even if they were right.

They were both really nice to me the rest of the weekend, and it worried me.

I was afraid it was because they were having an easier time facing reality than I was.

* * *

When the three of us got back to campus Sunday night, I headed straight for Brian’s apartment. I had missed him over the weekend, even though it felt like a dark cloud was hanging over us all of a sudden. But when I knocked on his door, there was no answer. It was 10 p.m., but I figured his meetings might have spilled over into the evening. Inwardly I was worried about something I couldn’t put my finger on, but I told myself to stop overreacting and tried to put any irrational worries about what Brian was doing out of my head.

On my way back to my apartment, I wasn’t paying much attention to anything other than the inner workings of my mind, so when I heard “Georgia!” from behind me, I jumped about four feet into the air and let out an ear-piercing shriek.

“Sorry, Georgia. I was trying not to scare you, actually.” Holding my hand to my chest, trying to get my pulse to return to normal, I turned around and saw Bill standing in front of me.

“Bill!” I cried. “It’s you, in the flesh!”

I looked him up and down. Doing the patented construction worker whistle, I said in my sassiest voice, “Boy, you are looking good!”

That was the understatement of the century. In the past couple of months since I’d last seen him, Bill had magically transformed himself from a slightly nerdy, almost cute guy, to a man.

He was still around six feet tall, but his body had filled out and I could see the lines of his biceps through his sweater. His face had even aged–he now had just enough lines on his forehead and around his mouth to look manly–and in the back of my mind it occurred to me that had I been single I might have been interested in him.

But I wasn’t single, so the point was clearly moot.

Not that I really would have been interested in him anyway. He was just a great friend, that’s all.

It was pretty dark out, but I think he may have started blushing a little bit, so I changed the subject. “So, what’s going on?”

“Well,” he began, “I got a job doing morning talk out at a local station.”

“Oh my god! You did? Which station?”

“KLO.”

“Wow,” I said reverently. “You rock so hard!”

He gave me a modest grin. “I’m just doing my show on weekends right now.”

“Who cares?
 
I can’t believe you have a real job, where they pay you to do talk radio. That’s my big dream.”

“I’m just glad you weren’t my competition. I’ve been listening to you in the mornings.”

I was a little worried for a second that maybe he thought I sucked. “And? What do you think?”

“You’re great. Really captivating. Funny. Real. Crass. All the good stuff.”

I wasn’t sure how to say thanks for all of those incredible compliments, so instead I changed the subject. “Hey!
 
Since you’re free on weekdays, how about you come on the show with me tomorrow morning?” I looked at my watch. “I’m on in approximately seven hours.”

A funny look crossed his face. “I don’t want to stomp all over your show, or anything.”

“Pul-lease.” I gave him a look that said he was being retarded. “Don’t be lame. Come on. I’ll show you a good time. I promise.”

Clearly he was unable to resist me because he said, “Alright, you’ve convinced me. I just don’t want your boyfriend to get the wrong idea or anything.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. “The wrong idea?
 
About what?”

He looked around. “I don’t know. Us talking late at night. Me meeting you on your show.”

Something occurred to me. “How’d you even know I have a boyfriend?”

He looked a little sheepish. “I saw you having lunch with him last week.”

“Why didn’t you come up and say hi?”

“Let me put it this way,” he said, “I wasn’t sure you guys were going to pry your lips apart long enough for me to get a word in.”

Now it was my turn to blush. “Yeah, I know. We have a little Public-Display-of-Affection problem.”

“No worries. I just didn’t want to intrude. How about next time I see you guys I’ll pull up a chair?”

I laughed. “Good idea. So, what should we talk about on the air tomorrow morning?”

We went back to my apartment and for the next couple of hours we thought of the stupidest topics we could do, like “Shoe fetishes: Do you have one?” and “If some girls like girls who dress like boys, why don’t they just like boys?”

* * *

Bill and I were on the air having a blast with the topic we had finally settled on, “Shocking Confessions: What’s Yours?” I had forgotten how much fun it was to spar with another DJ on the air.

He punched line two. “Hey there. You’re on Seattle Girl with Georgia Fulton and her guy of the hour. What’s your shocking confession?”

The caller began by simply saying, “Georgia,” and instantly I recognized the creep-o voice as belonging to Jerry, my stalker.

“Hey Jerry.”

I hit the mute button for the mics. Off the air I turned to Bill. “This guy has been stalking me since last year.”

Bill looked stunned. “Seriously stalking you?”

I shook my head. “Not really. He just calls up and says weird stuff, but I’ve never seen him in person or anything.”

I turned off the mute button and said, “I’m sure I don’t want to know this, but what’s your confession Jerry?”

“Oh, my sweet little cucumber.” He sighed into the phone. “I’m so pleased you remember me.”

Bill raised an eyebrow and mouthed
sweet little cucumber
? at me. I just shook my head and mouthed, “
I’ll tell you later
.”

Into the mic I repeated, “What’s your confession Jerry?”

I didn’t want to flat out hang up on Jerry, but at the same time I didn’t want to give him any kind of out of the ordinary response that might make him think I thought he was special. In all this time that he had been calling me and making weird comments on the air, he had never done one single thing to me off the air. But I wanted to make sure things stayed that way.

 
Jerry was silent for several long moments. “I’ve never had a good relationship, my chewy stick of juicy-fruit.”

I snorted. “Look Jerry, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way or anything, but have you ever stopped to think why that might be?”

Jerry answered right away. “I’m saving myself for the right woman.”

I knew I was getting into potentially hot water but I couldn’t resist prodding him. “And what exactly is your right woman like?”

Bill hit the mute button and turned to me with concern on his face. “I don’t know if you should push this guy, Georgia. I mean, if he’s been in your face like this for the past three years, I don’t know…what if he freaked out or something? In fact wasn’t he the guy who used to call your show last year and say all sorts of weird stuff?”

I ignored Bill and un-muted the mics while Jerry said, “Pure, sweet, a virgin.”

I laughed. “Good luck with that laundry list. But you know, don’t you think you’d have a better chance at finding a girlfriend if you were-how shall I say this so I don’t hurt your feelings–less creepy and rude?”

I guess Bill finally thought it was time to get involved in our conversation. “Um, Georgia
 
, I’d definitely say that calling someone a creep is gonna hurt their feelings. However,” he said, talking over Jerry when he tried to say something else, “I also think that calling up someone’s radio show and making up weird pet names for them is pretty bad too. So Jerry, I’m thinking this should be your last call to Georgia’s show.”

And with that, Bill hung up Jerry’s line.

Instantly furious, I exclaimed, “What the hell?”

“Don’t tell me you actually wanted to continue talking to that jerk?”

“That’s beside the point.” I was angry. “The point is, this is my show and I’ll hang up on people when I’m good and ready.”

Bill looked hurt. “So that’s the way it is, huh?”

I pinched my lips together. “I guess so.”

Bill took off his headphones and walked out of the studio. I don’t know how long it was before I finally remembered I was on the air.

“Whoa. Now that’s some heavy drama for first thing Monday morning, isn’t it?” I said, trying to joke around.

But the truth was, I knew I had just lost a friend. And even though I didn’t like what he had done, even though I didn’t like how he felt he needed to protect me, I knew I was going to miss him just the same.

* * *

I wished I felt more in control of my life that afternoon, because I was taking a really big step: I was taking Brian to lunch with my parents.