When the Messenger Is Hot (19 page)
You stay up late talking. He is not trying to have sex with you. You wonder if he is being gentlemanly. If he is waiting for later,
taking things slow
. You wonder if he understands that he could be having sex with you right now. You wonder why any guy in his right mind would not want to have sex with you right now. You decide it's time to go. He walks you to your car. He gives you a hug and a kiss on the cheek and a refrigerator magnet and a Charms Blow Pop.
You think, That was one of the top five best dates ever. You try to think of four others that even come close. You narrow it down to three, and that includes your first date ever, senior year, which makes the cut simply because you waited so long, and the date who played the piano and made you margaritas and read you Shakespeare assuming you'd understand (which was, at the time, a breakthrough). You call to say that you had a good time. You get voice mail. His message says something like,
Yo, keep shining
. He does not call back. When you finally run into him he seems neither interested nor uninterested. You call up some guy friends. You describe the date. The music, the candles, the flowers, the dinner, the Blow Pop. You say,
Was that a date? Maybe it wasn't a date
. All agree that it was a date. One laughs and says,
The only time I ever did that for a girl I asked her to marry me
. Another one says,
Maybe he's gay
. You enjoy the idea that the only reason someone would not try to have sex with you is because they're gay. You say,
He's not gay
. He asks if there was any physical contact. You tell him about the afghan. He says,
Shoes on or off?
You say,
Off
. He says,
Make no mistake. That was a date
. Another says,
Maybe he's intimidated by you
. People have said things like this before. You do not see yourself as intimidating in any way. You see yourself as pretty enough, smart enough, funny enough, neurotic enough, not overly anything. And he seems fairly confident, a not-easily-intimidated guy. You cannot figure out what went wrong or even if anything went wrong. There may be many reasons or there may be no reason. The reason may be that he is
Italian
. That he
just likes candles
. That in his mind, romance doesn't have to mean romance. You're down with that except for the part about wanting the sex.
So you stop trying to figure it out. You let it go. You decide you will
Let go and let god
. You say to yourself, Maybe this is the only way god knows how to reach me. Maybe I am being taken care of. Maybe god knows I will not pick up his messages if the messenger isn't hot. Or maybe this is just god's way of showing me what a date should be like. Maybe god is talking to me now, saying,
It is my decree that you should expect love songs and flowers and candles and lollipops
. Maybe god is just trying to show me a model for all future dates. There is no other explanation.
S
OMEONE FINALLY TOOK A PICTURE OF ME I don't hate and since I was wearing a red shirt I thought it would be the perfect holiday card. I made fifty copies and put a special nondenominational greeting on there (
Hey, Happy Holidays!
I thought the
Hey
gave it a personal touch) and sent them out. Then I started to get some cards back with some peculiar responses like,
Good for you!
, even though I hadn't written any news worth praising on that particular card and then I finally got an e-mail from someone who said she hoped she'd caught me before I sent too many out because she didn't want me to embarrass myself and I looked at the card again to see if I was exposed in some way or if the printers said,
Hey, Merry Christmas!
, by accident. But the card was just right, and so I e-mailed her back and said I didn't understand what she meant and she e-mailed back that most people who send photos like that also have husbands or babies in the photo. I e-mailed her back again and said that I am not most people.
For their hard work and overwhelming enthusiasm, I am indebted to Alice Tasman and Reagan Arthur. A thousand thank-yous and blessings on both your heads.
For more of the same I'm grateful to Michael Mezzo and Geoff Shandler.
For early encouragement I thank Adam Langer.
For very early encouragement I thank Dick and Lois, Mark, Reed, Rob, and Susan.
Profound gratitude to Nina Solomon and Bob Leonard, who read all of these stories in their early stages, and whose friendship is, well, without them I would be in some trouble.
Adam Levin has also been an invaluable reader. He never lies, which is better than it sounds.
Sincere thanks to Rebecca Rauve from the
Sycamore Review
for making all the postage worth it. Thanks also to the Chicago Writers Group.
And to a few more friends/hipsterati whose contributions have been crucial (in the way of cakes, counsel, dinners, housing, photos, reading skills, and misc. trudging), I thank: Paige Barnes, Shauna Angel Blue, Michael Blum, David Boatman, Liz Cochran, Chris Geddes, Lisa Gerstein, Sue Haas, John Hannon, Alex Kemp, Peter Lear, Emily Mann, Mary Reagan, Jesse Ritter, Anne Roche, Eric Rosenblum, Karin Uz, Jackie Wolk.
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All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following publications in which some of these stories were first published:
“Christina,”
Bridge Magazine;
“Return from the Depot!”
New York Stories;
“The Archetype's Girlfriend,”
Washington Square;
“The Daves,”
Book Magazine;
“The Super Fantastic New Zealand Triangle,”
Sycamore Review;
“Something Shiny,”
Chicago Reader
.
Copyright © 2003 by Elizabeth Crane
Cover design by Steven Seighman
978-1-4804-2587-3
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