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“I’d better get more cheese.”
“There’s more cheese? I don’t have to hold back?” Teddy says with his mouth full and the word TAKE on his cheese-knife hand.
“That’s you holding back?”
Serious-eyed, he swallows and says, “Will you marry me, Ruthie Maree?” And I hate to admit it, but my heart hears the words, and it’s gaping-blushing-starstruck.
Melanie pretends to pack up her folder. “My work here is done. Remember, lilac bridesmaid’s dresses.”
“Even the cheese I thought would be gross isn’t gross,” he’s telling her when I go inside for more snacks. “It’s walnuts in cream cheese with honey. I’ll get a lilac tie to match you all.”
I lean on the kitchen bench to privately regroup.
“Don’t you dare try to be Ruthie’s husband,” Melanie scolds him. “We’re going to do a worksheet on it, but I already knew the moment I saw you. You’re not the right type for her.”
He smiles with wicked white teeth, judging by his tone. “I’m everybody’s type.”
“The fact that you think so just confirms you’re definitely not hers. Maybe you’re the next candidate for the Sasaki Method,” Melanie fires back at him, and I feel a moment of real, actual fear as I look in the fridge. Teddy out in the world. Teddy dating, being funny and charming. I mean, he always has been. But I know him now, and I don’t think I want him to. Oh no.
Then Melanie makes the feeling worse. “I just assumed you don’t have a girlfriend. If you do, you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“If I did, do you think I’d be curled up on a sixty-year-old mattress in the middle of nowhere? Eating”—crunch, crunch, crunch—“stolen handfuls of tortoise lettuce?”
I’m walking back out with replenishments when Renata rounds the corner with a bottle of wine in her scooter’s basket and a single empty glass in her fist. “I’m here. Open this bottle,” she tasks Teddy seamlessly.
“Hi, Fashion Victim. I think your wig’s on sideways,” Melanie says and she’s right. Renata has wispy bangs over one ear.
“At my age, sideways is good enough.” Renata edges her scooter up to the table, not planning to dismount. “This is most civilized. What have I missed?”
I reply, “You missed out on me signing a very creative waiver, and we’re about to start on Week 1 of the Sasaki Method. If Mel will actually explain what that means.”
Melanie seems to compose herself for a moment, taking a new sheet out of her secret folder. “Week 1, of an eight-week program,” she announces like an infomercial, but
then falters. Renata’s presence has knocked her confidence. It’s understandable. The woman could make a billionaire CEO stare into a mirror.
“It’s okay,” I encourage her.
Melanie turns through the pages. She says quietly, “Just a reminder that I’ve never done this before.”
“Pitch it,” Renata instructs. “Sell it.” Big cracker crunch. In this moment, she’s young again, at the head of a board table as her quivering staff present a mock-up of the next HOT OR NOT magazine cover.
I say to Melanie, “Just explain it to me.”
She begins. “When I thought about Ruthie, I decided that she needs to ease into this. So with that in mind, we will do different weekly activities, with a real date with a guy being the goal at the four-week midpoint. By the end of the eight weeks, I’d like to see her happily dating a really nice guy who’s into her, and she won’t need the Method anymore. Look at my first worksheet.” We all lean over it. “Ruthie will write down all the qualities she wants in a man, the sorts of things she’d enjoy doing on dates and any deal breakers. There’s a bunch of columns and lists for her to fill out here. We know she’s good at that.”
“Four weeks? Eight?” Renata is unimpressed. “What about now?”
I make eye contact with Teddy. He’s giving me that same feeling as I had at the gas station when he looked me up and down: like he’s squeezing, pausing, assessing.
Melanie’s printed out a calendar. “We’re here. By Week 6, Ruthie should have a date to the Christmas party. And by Week 8, it will be New Year’s Day. She might be waking up with somebody.” She winks, smirks, laughs. All of the above.
I ask Teddy, “Well, what do you think? Is eight weeks achievable?”
“Too achievable.” He scowls darkly and jabs a thumb over his shoulder. “What if you get ahead of schedule? Don’t forget about our thin wall.”
“You’ll be long gone,” Melanie says to him dismissively. “What do you care.”
“I guess I will be.” To have the actual timeline of our remaining neighborly arrangement laid out for me in project software is quite daunting. All the more reason to lean into this process with diligence. There’s got to be one single guy in this entire town who isn’t planning on leaving ASAP.
