Guggle. Guggle. Urch.”
“Guggle. Guggle. Urch?”
“That’s the one.”
“It might be your carburetor,” Beau offers, though I suspect it is his version of my rotator cuff answer. Something you have heard that sounds worth repeating.
“Do you know anything about cars?” I laugh.
“Not a bit.” He laughs.
“And I was going to ask you to look at a car with me this weekend. I might really buy it. Guess I will need to get a date with a car guy.”
We laugh.
This is me talking to a boyfriend. The boyfriend. He qualifies as a boyfriend because he asks me about the most boring details of my life with interest. He is the only person to know about my Castaways viewing pleasure and the word “pathetic” did not leave his lips.
“How do you feel about the job? It’s been a couple months now. Have you adjusted?”
“It’s good. A bit strange. All that money and attitude…it is so different from Golden Horizon days.”
“That’s what you were hoping, right?”
“Yes.” I guess.
“I understand. I had such big expectations when I moved to Phoenix and took this management position,” he says. “Eventually the realities of the fantasy emerge.”
“Exactly.” He gets me. This makes me feel better. Unless…what if the fantasy he is talking about is our dating relationship?
“Do you think I should go blond?”
“Not if that means you will have to date your own kind.”
“It’s really more of a honey blond…the signature color developed for Majestic Vista employees only. Don’t you think that is a bit strange? And how sad that I didn’t even catch on that they had dyed their hair to match. I don’t know what I thought. Inbreeding, I guess.”
“Or pod people?”
“Yes. Pretty On Demand people. That would be appropriate.”
“Give it time, Mari. You are an anthropologist in a new culture. Or a missionary. Think of it that way.”
“I’m not offering much in the way of spiritual wisdom to these folks. I am, however, teaching ten people how to knit. Can you believe that is a coveted hobby?”
“See? You are popular on your own terms. That’s not so bad. Have you survived the probation period?”
“The first one. At six months they make an even bigger decision. If Lionel likes me…correction, loves me…enough to invest in my future with Majestic, he sends me to his spa in Mexico so I can observe the best of the best in action.”
“You’ll make it to Mexico. How could anyone not love you?”
Pause.
How could anyone not love you. Beau is a someone, which means he is part of “anyone” status. I rephrase the sentence: How could Beau not love you…me.
“Oh, my gosh! I forgot I have to meet up with Angelica downtown. I’m so sorry.” I stammer a bit and write “meet Angelica” on my Mexico wall calendar so it isn’t an unprovable lie. A few days over I see a note about Tess’ bypass surgery. “I will call you as soon as I hear how Tess did in surgery this week. I’ll be seeing her tomorrow just to check on her.”
“I will be up for your walk-a-thon this weekend; maybe we can go see her at the hospital afterward. Tell her I am praying for her full recovery. I expect her to dance with me at the sixtieth anniversary dance.”
“Who says I will share you?” Uh-oh, that was a reference to future ownership. “Gotta run. Talk with you soon.”
We hang up. Leaving me alone with my hang-ups.
Did Beau really intend to link me to the word “love”? Could someone make this leap in affection after only a few months? Am I the guy in this relationship, so afraid of the next step that I won’t be honest about my feelings?
My hands are clammy. I’ve got a bad case of Sadie’s fight-or-flight syndrome.