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Maybe it was the disappointment of hearing his words. Possibly it was that I wasn’t good at courtship, but I said no to his idea about hosting his parents at my house. I was hurt by his words but couldn’t figure out why they cut the way they did. I was emotionally invested in him and was afraid I was banking on something that wouldn’t bear fruit.
My phone rang, startling me from my inner dialogue. “Hey, Marla,” I said, seeing her face on the screen as a contact.
“Well, shit, Cole. Try to act a little more excited when your only friend calls,” she stated. “Why’s your dick in the dirt?”
“Chad’s also my friend,” I said, sounding like a kindergartener.
“And how does that make you feel?” she wisecracked.
“Screw you,” I muttered. “You aren’t my shrink.”
“Sounds like you might need one,” she replied. “Still in the friend zone, are we?”
I groaned and sat on a deck chair, wishing her question didn’t bother me as much as it did. I knew she was right and hated to admit that I’d wondered the same damn thing.
“Fuck!” I hissed. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Marla. He’s a kid, for God’s sake.”
“Yeah. A kid that has you tied up in knots,” she reminded me.
She was right. Marla was always right, and I hated her for it. Chad did have me in knots and I was confused by what we were to each other. Why couldn’t being friends with him be enough for me?
“He’s so much fun to be around, Marla. He is unlike any man I have ever met or talked to,” I gushed. “I mean it. He is different and so kind. And nice. And sweet. And smart. And… and…”
“Take a fucking breath, sweetie,” she admonished. “I get it. You have a crush on the quarterback, but he doesn’t see the chess club nerd the same way.”
She was right. Again. Dammit! “You’re probably right,” I admitted.
“Does he know how you feel about him?” she asked. “And I don’t mean in some ‘he has to read your goddamned mind to know’ sorta way, either.”
“Remember when I told you that I told him that I liked him? We were at the beach and then I invited him over?”
“Jesus! Listen to yourself, missy. You sound like a cheerleader at a slumber party,” she teased.
I stood and pinched off a dead daisy from a potted plant before practically throwing myself back onto the chaise lounge. The weather was hot and humid, matching my dismal personality. I stared at the surf, feeling depressed.
“I am not good at this, Marla. No wonder Alan walked out.”
“Fuck Alan,” she hissed. “You’re a good person, Cole Hicks. It is time that you stopped beating yourself up over Alan. He’s gone, my friend. He moved on. So the fuck what!”
“For the first time in years, I feel excited about something and someone,” I said. “I really truly want to feel this way, Marla. I’m sad about being sad all the time.”
“That’s it, Cole. That is finally fucking it,” she agreed.
“What’s it?” I asked, confused.
“You just said that you’re excited about something or someone,” she began. “You voiced the words out loud… finally.”
“I did, didn’t I?” I asked.
I let my words live in my mind for a moment. I had said something positive for the first time in years and I felt good. When had been the last time I had been inspired about anything in my life? I couldn’t remember.
“Now what are you going to do about these feelings, my friend?” she asked. “I want you to decide to move forward finally. This is an achievement, Cole. With or without surfer boy!”
I stood from the lounger and caught my reflection in the sliding glass doors. I looked fucking good. I was fit. I was young. So what if Alan dumped me? He wasn’t the only guy in the world. So what if Chad wasn’t ready to date? I was.
“You’re being awfully quiet, Cole,” Marla said on the other end of the call. “I know you when you get like this after good advice. Spill it, boy.”
“I am ready to date,” I said. “And I’m also done being sad about Alan.”
