The Time Traveler's Boyfriend (9 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Claudia spends most of the next day crying. I play the part of the good cousin, holding her hand and bringing her a pint of her favorite ice cream (Rocky Road). I feel sorry for Claudia, but more importantly, I’m frustrated that I couldn’t stop the whole thing from happening. I was
right there
. It seemed like I should have been able to stop it, yet it was destined to happen just as surely as that taxi slamming into Adam.

“He was the love of my life,” Claudia sniffles as she sinks into the couch and takes a bite of Rocky Road. “I’ll never love again.”

Oh, please. “Come on, Claudia,” I say. “He wasn’t that great.”

“Yes, he was.”

“Obviously he wasn’t,” I say. “He cheated on you.”

That didn’t help. A fresh wave of tears falls from Claudia’s eyes and her nose bubbles over with snot. I’m not attractive when I’m crying. But at twenty-two, you recover quickly from a bout tears—an hour after the waterworks stop, Claudia will look great again. Whereas when I cry, my eyes stay puffy for practically a week.

“You need to forget about that asshole,” I say to her.

She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “How?”

“A new guy, obviously,” I say. “You don’t want to spend New Year’s pining over Jed, having no one to kiss. Find some new guy and you’ll forget all about him.”

“I don’t know,” Claudia mumbles, snuffling loudly.

I take a deep breath. Here’s the moment. “I know someone perfect, actually.”

Claudia’s puffy eyes widen. “Really? Who?”

“His name is Adam,” I say. “He’s got a great job—he’s a computer programmer. And he’s really, really cute. He’s, um, the son of some friends of my parents.”

At the mention of how cute Adam is, Claudia perks up a little. “Do you have a photo?”

Was I really that shallow? “He might be on Facebook.”

Claudia frowns. “Whose
facebook?”

Oh, right. It’s 1999 and there’s no Facebook yet. Hmm, maybe I should tip Adam off and get him to invent Facebook. Of course, he’s already rich. He doesn’t need to invent Facebook.

“Never mind,” I say. “He’s cute. Trust me.”

Claudia takes another thoughtful bite of Rocky Road. “All right,” she says. “I’ll go out with him. But it’s got to be December 30. I don’t want to waste New Year’s on him if it turns out he sucks.”

I give myself a little pat on the back. I got Claudia to agree to a date with Adam! Okay, she doesn’t know about the whole wheelchair deal, but that’s a necessity. If she knows, she won’t go on the date, but I’m sure once she sees him, she’ll fall instantly in love and she won’t care. I mean, that’s what happened when I met Adam in 2012.

While Claudia is taking a nap (I guess I took naps when I was twenty-two), I find the napkin with Adam’s phone number and give him a call. I’m relieved when he picks up right away. “Hi, Adam,” I say. “It’s Beth. The Psychic Girl.”

“Hey, Beth,” he says. His voice hasn’t changed at all in the last fourteen years and the sound of him makes me incredibly homesick. I want to reach through the phone and give him a hug. “What’s up?”

“So that girl Claudia?” I remind him. “She wants to have dinner on December 30
th
. Are you free?”

“That’s Thursday, right?” he says. “Yeah, sure, I can do it.”

“Great,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Where does she want to go?”

I think for minute, trying to remember which restaurants were around fourteen years ago. “Do you know that middle eastern restaurant, Mediterranean?”

“Yeah, I know it. It’s got four steps to enter. Try again.”

“Oh,” I say. You’d think after dating Adam for a year, I’d be more on the ball about stuff like that. “How about Angelo’s on 38
th
Street?”

He thinks for a second. “Yeah, that sounds fine. Is seven o’clock okay?”

“Yes, perfect.”

There’s silence between us. I don’t want to hang up. I miss him. I want to tell him how much I miss him, how much I love him, but that would be weird, obviously. He barely knows who I am.

“So, um,” he says. “Is there anything I should, like, bring her?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, you know, does she like flowers?”

I think for a second, trying to remember what would have impressed me when I was twenty-two. “You can get her a single red rose.”

“A rose, got it,” he says. He’s quiet for a minute, then he says, kind of sheepishly, “Thanks for doing this, Beth. You were right about needing to get out there again.”

“I think you two will really hit it off,” I say confidently.

“And she really doesn’t mind that I’m … you know, that I use a wheelchair?”

She absolutely doesn’t mind. Because she doesn’t know. “She’s definitely going to like you, Adam,” I assure him. “Don’t worry.”

“Right,” he says, and then he laughs nervously. “I’m a
little
worried.”

“Don’t be,” I say. “I know Claudia really well, and I know you two are perfect for each other.”

“Okay,” he says. “I believe you.”

Of course, there’s a small part of me that worries maybe twenty-two-year-old Claudia is not perfect for twenty-four-year-old Adam. I’ve changed a lot in the last fourteen years, and maybe the person I was back then wasn’t ready for the kind of great guy Adam is. But I can’t think that way. I have to believe in myself (my former self). Claudia will fall in love in two days and the rest will be history. Or the future. Whatever.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Claudia is really excited about her date with Adam, to the point where she spends the entire next day shopping for clothes with money I know she doesn’t have. She’s a waitress, after all. And Plucky’s was not exactly a high-end restaurant. I used to sometimes get extra work doing commercials and that paid really well, but those jobs tended to be few and far between. My life was so aimless back then.

My minor victory is that I manage to convince Claudia to take it easy on the eye make-up for her date with Adam. “You’re so naturally pretty,” I say. “You really don’t need so much make-up.”

“Thanks, Beth,” she says. “I hope I’m as pretty as you when I’m your age.”

Seriously, sometimes I’m not sure whether I want to hug her or slap her. She’s trying, at least.

She looks really good in a floral-print skirt that falls just above her knees and a low cut maroon blouse. Ordinarily, I would have shared with her my advice about not shaving her legs prior to the date in order to ensure she’ll remain chaste, but I’m not so worried about Adam. I know he’ll be a gentleman.

As Claudia tugs on her coat, she starts to look a little nervous. “I’ve never been on a blind date before,” she says. “Do you think you could come with me?”

I stare at her. “Come with you on your date?”

Claudia laughs. “No, I mean, just … come to the restaurant. Point him out and introduce us.”

Actually, that’s not a terrible idea. It will ensure that Claudia doesn’t make a run for it when she sees Adam. “Okay.”

Even though it’s not very far to the restaurant, Claudia insists we grab a cab because she doesn’t want to mess up her hair. In the taxi, she keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs, and it takes me a minute to realize I’m doing the exact same thing. I had no idea that was a nervous habit of mine. I make a conscious effort to stop.

When we get to Angelo’s, Claudia quickly whips out her compact and takes a last minute look at herself. She nods to herself and then smiles brightly at me. “Let’s go,” she says.

We get into the restaurant, which is pretty large and fairly busy, and we tell the hostess we’re meeting someone here. I immediately spot Adam near the front. He’s wearing a really nice light blue dress shirt that’s actually buttoned correctly, a dark tie, and he’s made an effort to tame his short brown hair. He’s yanking at his tie, looking about as freaked out as I feel.

“So where is he?” Claudia whispers in my ear.

“Over there,” I say, pointing in Adam’s direction.

Claudia cranes her neck. “Where? Behind the guy in the wheelchair?”

Oh, no. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. “No,” I say. “That’s him. In the wheelchair.”

Claudia stares at me then grips my forearm hard enough to leave finger imprints behind. “Are you fucking
kidding
me? You set me up with a cripple?”

You wouldn’t think the situation could get any worse, but at that moment, Adam spots us and waves enthusiastically. I want to cry. “I told you,” I say. “He’s really nice. And he’s cute, don’t you think?”

Claudia is shaking her head at me. “No. I just …
no
.”

“Listen to me,” I say. I want to give her a shake. “You can
not
stand him up. He’s
right there
. He’s a great guy and he won’t ever cheat on you with a stripper.”

“Well, duh,” Claudia says. “A stripper probably wouldn’t even sleep with him.”

I glance over at Adam, who is now looking at us curiously. I wonder if he’s figured out that Claudia is having second thoughts.

“Okay, fine,” Claudia says through her teeth. “I’ll have dinner with him. But that’s it, Beth. No more dates.”

I have to hold onto Claudia’s arm and actually physically drag her over to Adam’s table. She’s really demonstrating passive resistance here. When we get to the table, she’s scowling. I try to make up for it by being extra enthusiastic. “Hi, Adam!” I say. “I’d like you to meet my cousin, Claudia Williams. Claudia, this is Adam Schaffer.”

“Hi, Claudia,” Adam says.

“Hi,” Claudia mumbles, not sitting down.

Adam pulls the rose out from under the table. “I got this for you.”

Claudia takes it from him as if he just handed her a wet, snotty napkin. “Thank you.”

The three of us all stare at each other in silence. This is not going super great. “So I should probably go,” I say.

Claudia grabs my arm. “No, Beth, don’t go. Join us.”

She’s really got a death grip on my arm. I had no idea I used to be so strong. “I really shouldn’t …”

“Beth doesn’t know anyone in town,” Claudia says to Adam. “She’s just going to be all alone tonight. You wouldn’t mind if she joined us, right?”

“Of course not,” Adam says. “Please join us, Beth.”

They’re both looking at me. I can’t join Adam and Claudia on their date. How can they fall in love if I’m sitting right here?

“I just … I can’t,” I stammer. “There’s no chair for me …”

“Well, that’s something we can’t possibly fix,” Adam says, with an amused expression on his face. He’s always been good at calling me on my bullshit.

Sure enough, the waiter is able to dig up another chair for me. Claudia doesn’t let go of me until I’m sitting right between her and Adam—she’s left behind a set of angry red marks on my upper arm from her nails. I try to make peace with this new development, thinking at least if I’m here, I’ll be able to help foster romance.

“So what do you do, Claudia?” Adam asks her.

“I’m an actress,” Claudia lies. Well, I suppose it’s not entirely a lie. I guess I sort of considered myself an actress when I first returned to New York after college. Mostly I got auditions for small parts in TV shows and commercials, and usually I didn’t get the roles. I got told that they wanted someone “more ethnic,” so for a brief time, I dyed my hair jet black to look more ethnic. And then I lost the “all-American girl” jobs. I couldn’t win, so I eventually gave up.

“Really?” Adam raises his eyebrows. “Would I have seen you in anything?”

“I was in a toothpaste commercial,” Claudia says.

“What brand?”

I still remember flashing my pearly whites for that stupid toothpaste commercial, but I can’t for the life of me remember what brand it was. I look at Claudia and it’s clear she doesn’t remember either. “One of the big ones,” she says.

Adam nods. “That sounds really fun.”

It wasn’t. “Oh, yes,” Claudia says. “It’s definitely fun. Hey, can we get some wine or something to drink?”

“Of course.” Adam signals for the waiter. We each order a glass of wine, but Claudia looks like she wants to order two or three glasses. She excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and I’m left alone with Adam, who is looking at me rather accusingly.

“I thought you said she was okay with my situation,” Adam says, frowning at me.

“She is,” I insist.

“Yeah, right.”

“She is!”

The waiter returns with our wine and a basket of bread. Adam picks up his glass and takes a long drink. “Are you capable of doing anything besides lying? Because I’ve yet to see it.”

I take a long swig off my own glass of wine. We should have just told the waiter to leave the whole bottle. “She going to fall totally in love with you,” I say. “Trust me.”

“You’re wrong,” Adam says. “Trust me.”

“And how do you know?”

“Because she just left.”

I whip my head around to look at the back of the restaurant. The front door is swinging slightly with a recent departure. I turn back around and stare at Adam. “She didn’t …”

“I assure you, she did.”

Damn. I should have gone with her to the bathroom. I should have known I’d try to pull something like this. “I’m sorry,” I say miserably.

“So what is this, anyway?” Adam asks me. “Are you just going to, like,
appear every two years to wreck my life?”

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because what else can I say?

Adam pulls a roll from the basket. He pulls out a packet of butter and starts to butter his roll. “You know what? It’s okay.”

“It is?”

He shrugs. “Well, I don’t love that she ran out on me, but I knew it wasn’t going to work out. She’s not my type anyway.”

Hmph
. I beg to differ. “Why not?”

“She kind of seems like a spoiled brat,” he says. “And that whole thing about being an actress? Who does she think she’s kidding? She’s probably a waitress or she works at the Gap or something.”

“She’s not … I mean, she doesn’t …” I bite my lip. “Okay, she does wait tables. But she’s not a spoiled brat. She’s really nice.”

He shrugs again. “Whatever you say.”

“She is!”

Adam chuckles. “Well, don’t take it
personally
, Beth. She’s just kind of immature, that’s all.”

“Immature?”

“I like girls who are a little more … substantial,” he says. “She looks like her biggest priority is what shade of lipstick to put on.”

“That’s not true,” I insist. I also used to care about my nails. And my hair, of course.

But other than that, he’s right on the money.

This really sucks. Adam doesn’t like Claudia, and Claudia definitely doesn’t like Adam. How are they supposed to fall in love? Then again, maybe this is a good sign. In romantic comedies, don’t the two leads always hate each other before they fall desperately in love?

Except right now it doesn’t
feel
like a good sign.

“Will you stay, at least?” Adam asks me. “I don’t want to look like a loser who had two girls run out on him.”

“I’ll stay,” I promise.

“Good.” He takes another sip of wine. “So what do you do, Beth? Aside from being psychic.”

“I’m a teacher,” I say.

“Yeah?” He has the same impressed look as he did when I told him when I met him at the dinner party. “That’s awesome. What grade?”

“First grade.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” I say. “Six year olds are so … earnest. They don’t have any hidden agenda. They’re so good and pure.”

“It’s a great age,” Adam agrees. “I have a six-year-old nephew and he’s really incredible. He says the funniest things. He told me the other day that I was bionic.”

I laugh. “I can definitely see one of my kids saying that.”

“So what’s your best teacher story?” he asks.

“There are way too many to choose from,” I say thoughtfully. “I can tell you one that happened recently, though.”

“Go for it.”

“So this girl in my class named Madison raises her hand—”

Adam snorts. “Madison? That’s the name of a girl? Isn’t that, like, the name of a president? Who the hell calls their kid Madison?”

I bite my tongue to keep from telling him that every third girl is named Madison in 2013. “
Anyway
, Madison raises her hand and asks me in front of the whole class if Santa Claus is real.”

“Uh oh! What did you say?”

“I wasn’t sure,” I admit. “I asked her what she thought. She told me she thought Santa might be her parents and her grandparents.” I smile. “Then, just as I was freaking out that she was going to spoil it for everyone, she adds, ‘Either Santa is my parents or he’s a magical man who just comes to life during Christmas and makes presents for every kid in the world.’”

“Whew,” Adam says. “Close call.”

“No kidding.”

“Would you get fired if you told the kids that Santa wasn’t real?”

“I might. Parents are pretty sensitive about that. You know, keeping the magic alive.”

“You mean, lying to their kids,” he says, grinning at me.

“Well, yeah,” I admit. “I mean, it’s lying, but I think a lie can be justified if you’re doing it to create some magic for your kid. My parents were never about the magic. They told me straight out that they were buying the presents for me. I mean, I got some pretty great presents, but I would have traded it for a little magic, you know? How about you?”