Dair

I tried to give it to her as honest as I could.  “I think she wouldn’t mind if I asked her out, and she’d likely say yes, but she’s not aggressive enough to ever take that step herself.”

“Ahh, so you’re not as oblivious as you pretend to be.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”  I hated it when she treated me like I was the kid in this relationship.

“So, if you, say, called her up and asked her out on a date, do you think she’d go?”

“I’m not doing that—”

I’m not telling you to.  I’m just asking.”

I felt like an egotistical ass**le saying it, but if I was honest, “Yes, I think she’d go.  Where’s this ridiculous conversation heading?”

She didn’t answer, and that worried me.

“What are you up to?” I asked her.

“Just making sure that I understand everything.”

I knew the conversation didn’t portend good things, but I didn’t understand just how bad it was going until she ditched me in the park.

She didn’t go far, just about fifty feet away, where some meatheads were wrapping up their CrossFit drills.

It was an unseasonably warm day, the bright sun beating down, and she was wearing some of her tiny shorts (hot pink), flip flops (bright purple), and an adorable little neon yellow crop top that left her flat, tan stomach bare, and read: LOVE IS MY DRUG across her chest.

The pink was already fading from her hair, and it was currently a shade of adorable, cotton candy pink, hanging loose and silky around her shoulders.

She looked delectable, edible, head to toe, as she went and started chatting up an oiled group of juiced up guys who were way, way younger than me.

I held the leashes of her hot lesbian friends’ dogs, and just watched as she singled one of them out, clearly the most attractive one of the bunch.

The tallest one.  The biggest one.

He flashed bright white teeth at her as he smiled and eyed her up like she was his own special birthday present.

She smiled and laughed with him, clearly flirting.

I almost dropped both leashes to punch a nearby tree when she touched his arm in a familiar way.

Still, I kept myself from going over there, instead walking the dogs in a few big circles around the park, while she continued to charm that muscle bound motherfucker for a solid thirty minutes.

She fell into step with me without a word when she was good and ready, and we left the park.

We were nearly back at Frankie’s house before I found my voice.  “What the f**k was that?”

She didn’t play coy, at least.  “I agreed to go out with him tonight.”

I felt my blood begin to boil, rising up, hot bile in my throat.

“You what?”

“I am deferring to your superior wisdom that must only come with age.  I was young and naive enough to trust my heart and give this thing between us a shot, but you seem to think that’s a bad thing.  A foolish thing.  Who am I to disagree?  You’re clearly older and therefore wiser.  So now I’m doing what you suggested, trying out someone closer to my own age.  You should call your photographer friend, take her on a date.  Talk is cheap, Dair.”

“You’re out of your mind.  Did you really think that I meant you should pick up some random guy at the park?  And I’m not calling anyone.  Fuck you.  You don’t get to tell me what to do.  Who do you think you are?”

“I’m a woman that wants you to live by your own words.  You keep saying a thing, I’ll hold you to it.  I’m sick of your obsession with the age difference.  You’re fixated on it.  You wanted me to go out with someone else.  I’ll do it.  Problem solved.”

I was so sick with worry suddenly that I ran out of anger, but I was still chock-full of desperation.  “Don’t do that.  Please.  I don’t want you to go out with him.  You know that’s not what I want.”

She gave me a level stare, and with that one look, I knew she was going to be merciless about this.

“So how about you get to pick.  One of us is going out with someone else tonight, someone closer to our own age.  You or me.  And if you don’t pick, I’m going out with the gym rat.”

“Will you . . . sleep with him?”  My throat tried to choke on the question.

“Oh, Dair,” she said softly.

It wasn’t an answer.  I wanted to rip my hair out.

“I’ll go,” I growled at her.  At least if I went, I wouldn’t have to worry about what she was doing all night.  “But you have to stay at the house while I do it.  I want you waiting for me when I get home.”

How had this gotten so screwed up so quickly?

“Fine.”

I was so angry by the time we got back that I didn’t even try to talk her out of the whole thing, determined by then to teach her a lesson.

I made sure she was in earshot as I called Lourdes and chatted her up, eventually asking her out to dinner that night.  I lucked out (or not) because she wasn’t busy and agreed readily enough.

Iris showed no reaction, just sending me occasional inscrutable glances while she made us sandwiches in the kitchen.

I was seething by the time I hung up, and I could only hope poor Lourdes hadn’t noticed.

“Happy?” I asked Iris.

“Happy is not the word I’d use,” she said, tone just a touch warmer than idle.