Five happy ends
They met dancing and she loved his slight lisp
She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw him wink at her. An awkward but bold move. He had a slight lisp which added vulnerability to his quiet, humble confidence. He was so refreshingly healthy. Yes, healthy is a good way to describe him, she decided. He was easy in conversation, quick to connect and laugh. When they danced she did not feel short, despite his notable height. A plus, a definite plus.
You came!
He invited her to his Birthday dinner. She was late. He wasn’t sure if she was coming.
He: You came!! There was both relief and disbelief in his voice. She was flattered. He sat near her. She took a sip of his drink. Then for what seemed an eternity, they were alone. Maybe not in the universe, but definitely at the cafe.
Pizza from scratch
He: I am having some friends over and making pizza. Will you come?
As soon as she walked into his apartment and saw him kneading dough and discussing pizza toppings with his brother, she felt at home. Then the butterflies came.
On the roof. Waiting for the meteor shower that never came.
She: I like you
He: I like you too.
She: I like you…and I am attracted to you.
He: …
She: Are….you attracted to me?
He: Not as much as you’d like me to be.
She: …?
He: It doesn’t mean you are not gorgeous…
Sleepover
She: So I was thinking Jay and Allison would take the downstairs bedroom.
He: Ok
She: And Rachel and Millie can stay in the upstairs guest room.
He: Uh-huh.
She: And were you not repulsed by me you’d have a bed to sleep in as well, so you are sleeping on the couch.
He: OK. Wait, what?
Later that evening
She: Does everyone have everything they need?
Everyone: Yes!
She: So, upstairs or on the couch?
He: I’ll just sleep upstairs, if you don’t mind.
Later still…
She: Are you sleep?
And then it happened. His arms and legs were everywhere. All over her. So much delicious pressure. They sprinted and stopped. Talked and lay in silence, hugging.
She: I can feel that a part of you wants this very much. But something is stopping you.
He: Yes.
She: What can I do?
He: Forgive me.
“Drink things” and foxtrot.
He glanced at the door every opportunity the foxtrot allowed him. Slow, slow, quick quick, turn. She said she might stop by the class after her “drink thing”. If she walks through that door I will kiss her, tonight. I can’t let her go on any more of these so called “drink things”. Slow, slow, quick, quick. Oh god, what if she doesn’t come? What if tonight’s “drink thing” isn’t lame? What if she likes tonight’s guy? Quick, quick, slow, slow and turn. What if I missed my chance? Slow, slow, quick, quick, turn. Her face! His heart jumped and his beaming face gave him away. She looked amazing. Chic, elegant, feminine. Legs forever, especially for her petite frame. He tried to catch her gaze. Will she look at him the way she used to? Or is there a change? Will she call him her dear chap or is he back to being just Jake?
Morning, bed.
He: (Looks at her, as if through a loupe. Gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear) You are very well composed.
She: … as in… I don’t throw tantrums?
He: Ha, no, you are very well composed.
Dirty Santa
She is checking her phone, by the front door.
He walks in. His face lights up, seeing her. He hugs her. Her face is burning up and his is deliciously cold and she presses her cheek against his.
She: (with feigned, but not really, passionate fervor) More, touch me more, everywhere…
His long chilled fingers are on her face, neck, shoulders, back.
She: (with feigned protest) OK, OK it’s getting inappropriate!
Help me understand.
He: It’s silly, and I am sure it will confuse you even more, but remember when we were looking up the Russian version of my name?
She: Yes.
He: I really enjoyed that, because secretly I was thinking, I wonder what your mom will call me when we get married.
She: What? What are you talking about?
He: I know, I know it’s confusing…
She: Confusing? Confusing?! (She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly)
He: I don’t deserve you, I know that. I know I am ruining things between us. You are being so patient and kind and loving. And I can see your patience dwindling, and just when I think it’s over, you are going to tell me it’s over, somehow you become more patient. I am so sorry.
She: Jake, please help me understand. I am so confused, I don’t know what to think. On one hand I think back to what you said that night on the roof, that you are not as attracted to me as I’d like you to be. And then the next night you came dancing, and then a few weeks later you chose to sleep in the same bed with me. And it wasn’t platonic. I know it’s not about me, or not entirely about me…something is stopping you, and I don’t know what it is, and whether it’ll ever go away. But yes, you are right about the fact that I am losing patience. Something keeps me going, keeps me wanting you, hug you, kiss you, continue getting to know you. But it’s getting harder and harder to feel as little reciprocation as you’ve been giving me. It’s beginning to feel humiliating. I mean I am acting as if I don’t deserve to be with someone who wants to kiss me, to be affectionate with me, to be with me, fully. And I deserve that. I know I do.
He: I am sorry. You are right in that it is not you. I want you so badly. You are amazing. Beautiful, charming, smart, very funny, kind and gentle, and real. And I am more excited about you than I remember being about anyone ever. But I am also terrified of you and of what I feel for you. It’s making me feel all these awful paralyzing fears of not being strong enough, or good enough for you. I fear I won’t be able to give you what you want, and that you’ll hate me. I can’t take you hating me. Can you understand that? Can you give me a bit more time?
She: No, I can’t. I am sorry. I want you. I want everything with you. Not everything right away right this minute…but I do. I want to live with you, I want to travel with you, dance with you, eat chocolate with you, I want to have your ridiculously long babies with sandy blonde hair, big nose, kind heart and warm eyes. I want it all. With you.
Enough
She: Please tell me something I can do, to feel better about us and not make you tighten up more.
He: …
She: Please.
He: I guess I don’t know what to say. If I knew I’d suggest it.
Yes, he would she thought. That’s something she came to expect from him, for better or worse. He is good and decent and kind, even if he claims it is cultivated. As much as she hated the underlying inauthenticity, she realized that she found his susceptibility to doing the right thing despite his real desires, or lack thereof, handy, comforting.
He: It’ll be OK. I have to run now, I’ll talk to you later.
And just like that, she felt infinitely better. The choking despair passed. But that scared her even more. Enough. I don’t want my mood to be this dependent on what he does. Enough.
Miss him she did.
She missed his passionate embrace. You stand up to pressure well, he told her jokingly once. She found it pleasantly easy to tell him how good she felt when they hugged and kissed and spooned. She missed how in the morning, while still mostly asleep, he reached for her, pulled her close to himself and they slept for another hour or so in a naked, surprisingly well aligned spooning situation. She missed how he innocently embarked on a fact gathering expedition about her sexual likes and dislikes. She missed entering her bedroom after taking a shower and seeing him in her bed, beautiful long torso exposed, glasses framing his handsome face. She missed climbing into bed, his arm lifting, welcoming her into her beloved nook. She missed being close to him, smelling his aftershave. She missed sliding her cold feet under his warm ankles. She missed home.
I just want to dance with you.
She: You see, I know that dancing helps me, and being around you helps me. Not romantically, I know you are not interested in that. (He disagrees but says nothing) I feel good when I am around you. (I feel even better when you touch me and kiss me, and when we sleep in a naked double spoon)
She: So when the lights go out around me and it gets really really dark and scary (a tear rolls down her cheek), (his hand wants to wipe it away, but he doesn’t) I just want to dance with you. And believe me, it is not easy for me to admit this, admit that I can’t do this on my own. And I mean, I can, but it’s easier with you. And I know that scares you, makes you tighten up and not want to be around me. And that hurts the most, when you don’t want to be around me. (He wants to grab her around her waist, pick her up and kiss her, but does nothing)
Romantic dramedy.
She: You can’t just show up to my Birthday, dance with me, smell all different but amazing, and squeeze my knee between your knees, and give me my favorite chocolate and your classic hug that makes my knees buckle, and stay longer than expected, staring at me. Because then, then I tell you that I miss you, and you say ‘I know’, and kiss me on the forehead and leave. And I am left writing five different happy endings to the romantic dramedy that is our nonexistent relationship. That is not fair.
My way.
She: That night when we watched Casablanca…did you feel good?
He: Mostly yes. Not so much towards the end.
She: What happened towards the end?
He: I felt that I did something wrong, that you were mad at me.
She: Wait, what? Why?
He: Because you didn’t ask me to stay…
She: What??!? Are you kidding me?? Jake! All I want is for you to stay. Every time! I want you to just stay. And never leave. Oh my God. OK. We are going to do this my way now. Take off your clothes. Now. Then take off my clothes. Do it!
On the other side.
He: Hi.
She: Oh hi. Jake.
He: I need your help.
She: Ok. With what?
He: With getting happier.
She: Oh.
He: I need to know that as I go through this….exercise, you’ll be on the other side. Of it.
She: No.
He: Oh.
She: No, I won’t be on the other side, Jake. I am here. With you. Now. I am doing this with you. I won’t be your therapist, but I will be a loving friend. I am here. Now.
Legendary.
She: We will be so different. We’ll be legendary! I know you are terrified, but I am special. And we’ll have the best time. We’ll beat all the odds. What’s the worst that can happen?
He: I could hurt someone I really like…
Patiently, selflessly, kindly.
In the end, he changed her, unwittingly. With him she learned to love the way she wanted to love, patiently, selflessly, kindly. She had a glimpse of what might have been faith — believing and continuing to love in the absence of any proof or hope for reciprocation. She realized that he may never love her or want to be with her the way she loved and wanted him. Or maybe she made it all up, the connection, the closeness. Maybe it was wishful writing.
Open it.
He: Hi.
She: Hi.
He hugs her. A wave of familiarity, longing and comfort storm her body. He is warm and smells amazing and his hands cover most of her back, and his knees are bent. She pulls away first this time.
She: What…what are you doing here?
He: Here. He hands her an envelope. It has a black silky bow on it.
She: What’s this?
He: Open it. It’s your Christmas gift.
She: It’s June.
He: It’s your Birthday gift.
She: My Birthday was in March. You were there.
He: It’s your Tuesday gift. Just…
She: It’s W…
He: Open it!
She opens it.
She: It’s…a ticket, to Paris. What is this, Jake?
He: Keep reading.
She: It’s an itinerary. It has my name…and your name.”
She looks up at him. She is not blinking.
He: It’s, it’s my I am sorry for being difficult, I am sorry I was an idiot, hopefully grand enough gesture.
She: Jake…
He: I missed you.
She: Jake…I…
He: I am ready. I want to be us. You are my you and I am your…me. You knew this a year ago it seems, and the truth is I did too, but I am only now realizing it’s not as scary as it seemed. You put up with my absurdity for so long and I am both incredibly grateful and sorry for that. I’ve never had anyone like you in my life before. It terrified me and thrilled me and destroyed me and breathed life into me all at once. You were so sure…”
She: Jake, I am seeing someone.
He: I know. I mean, I was ready for that.
She: I wanted just you, nobody else. But you left me no choice.
He: I know. I understand. That’s ok. I just want you to be happy. No, that’s not true. Dump the guy, be with me.
She: (laughs) Jake…
He: I am serious. Be with me. It was always supposed to be us. You and me. Dancing, driving places, hugging and laughing and picking out avocados. I know it took me forever. I know I hurt you. I know I drove you mad. But be with me anyway.
…
She: So, Paris…
He: Yes, more Canneles. You need more Canneles.
Mr. Potato-head
She (turning to him): So, we are going on vacation. Together.
He (smiling): Yes.
She (mock serious): How could you let this happen?
He: ?
She: I mean me, I understand. I can suspend common sense when I really want something. But you are a potato..!
He: Hm?
She (laughs): it’s from this potato chips commercial. Mr. Potato-head walks in on his wife eating potato chips and says, HONEY, but…you are a POTATO!
He: (laughs)
She: And you are an engineer! You are supposed to be guided by common sense. Whatever happened to that?
He: …*shrugs his shoulders*
She (turning away from him, smugly): We are going to fall for each other. I can feel it.
Yes we are, he thought. I love this girl. She is nuts, and I love her, more and more. I want everything with her. I am afraid of many fewer things with her. I want a family with her, I want to wake up and go to sleep with her every day.
He: Here. (hands her a little box)
She: (Realizes she is holding a ring box.) What are you doing??
He: It’s yours. I can give you this a month from now, a year from now, it doesn’t matter much. You are it for me. I know I won’t be doing this with anyone else, ever. It’s yours. It almost doesn’t matter what you say, or even whether you wear it or not.
She: …
He: I hope you say yes and wear it though.