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“Anita, it’s getting very late.”
She smiles. “Finally, you’re making sense,” she remarks. “My apartment is just around the corner, you know. Same place.”
I take a deep breath. I do know. I remember it well. It’s very nice, with stunning ocean views and modest furnishings.
“Sturgill?” she leans forward. “We’re just people. Just ships in the night.”
“I think it’s time I need to be heading back to the dock,” I joke, but my voice sounds flat.
Pouting, she raises her eyebrows sarcastically and sits up straight, stretching for a moment.
“Okay, your loss,” she sighs. “Whoever she is, I hope she knows how lucky she is. I hope she tells you every day.”
Mary catches my eye with a meaningful accusation as Anita rises from the table and sashays away. With her gone, I feel like I can take a full breath.
“What the heck is wrong with you?” Mary accuses. “Is your radar broken? Did you not understand the signals she was blasting at you?”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” I shrug, taking another draft of lukewarm beer.
“I’ll say!” she snarks. “You’re just gonna let Anita slip through your fingers, again? You must be insane.”
“Naw, he’s in love,” Arthur drawls.
I scowl and Mary gasps. Her eyes go wide as she glares at me accusingly.
“You’re in love?” she barks. “With Anita? Then why are you being such a jerk?”
“I’m not in love.”
Twisting on the bench, Arthur turns back around to face me with a maddening smirk on his face.
“Yeah you are, you big dummy,” Arthur continues. “Distracted, dedicated, and turning down a no-strings offer of female companionship of the hottest variety. My diagnosis: acute love sickness.”
Mary pinches the back of his arm when he says the hottest variety but she doesn’t take her eyes off me.
“Is this true?”
“It’s probably terminal,” Arthur nods sagely.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not in anything,” I sigh dramatically, rolling my eyes. “You don’t know anything about my life, Arthur. I think you’re just projecting your own symptoms of puppy infatuation for Mary. You see love around every corner.”
“That may be true,” he smiles, wrapping his arm around Mary’s shoulder and drawing her closer so he can nuzzle her hairline again. “But that doesn’t change the facts.”
Despite myself, I’m curious. I should probably head back to my apartment, but suddenly that seems quite lonely. I might as well play along with Arthur’s little game.
“What facts would those be?”
Arthur holds up a finger. “Number one, you are a strong, healthy male in his early thirties who hasn’t gotten laid in years.”
“Wait, what?” Mary gasps.
Another finger. “Number two, your father’s relocation to assisted living has probably left you with a giant, sprawling estate in which you can hear the echoes of a happy family life quickly fading.”
“Dramatic much?” I sneer, hoisting my beer bottle again.
Another finger. “Number three, after years of brushing me off, you suddenly changed your mind and decided to come down to Costa Rica, abandoning your town of Mayberry on the spur of the moment. Nursing a broken heart, perhaps?”
“Wow, Arthur, I really hope these are not the diagnostic skills that you are using on your poor patients.”
