*Beep*
Del, Michelle . . . I got it! I got the job at Vintage Vogue! I can’t believe it—I’m so excited! Listen, I’m glad you’re home safely and I’m not angry anymore, so call me, okay?
*Beep*
Hey, Darlin’ . . . it’s Grandpa. Just got your message. Darnit! I can’t believe I missed you! If I knew you were coming out, I would’ve rescheduled our trip.
Listen . . . sorry to whisper, but I gotta talk to you about something private. I feel silly asking, but I don’t know who else to turn to—I’m thinking about waxing my chest and have a couple questions. Can you call me? Love you. Bye.
*Beep*
Delilah, this is Patsy calling on your mother’s behalf. She’s a little fragile right now due to a letter she received—I’m sure you’re aware of it. She wanted me to remind you that you have an appointment at Saks to have your dress tailored after the tasting today. I sure hope it fits. Daisy insisted on ordering you a size 8, even though both your mom and I told her to get you a twelve. Bye!
a taste of things to come
monday, may 16
I’m still in bed, but I’m home. I tried to drop my car off in LA and fly back, but doing so would’ve cost me close to two thousand dollars, so I drove. I don’t have two thousand dollars. I don’t have anything. I don’t own my own company. I don’t even have a job. I don’t own a loft in Tribeca. I can’t even pay my rent. I don’t have a husband or a family. I don’t even have a boyfriend.
The only thing I have is a dog.
But she’s a good dog, the best, in fact. On the way home from LA, I told Eva Gabor she was my best friend. We were somewhere in Oklahoma at the time, listening to “Mandy” by Barry Manilow, the song that is rumored to have been written for someone’s dog who died or something. As Barry came through my speakers, I wondered what I’d do if I didn’t have her. “Oh Mandy! Well you came and you gave without taking! Oh Mandy! You kissed me and stopped me from shaking!” When the song ended, tears were streaming down my face. I turned to Eva Gabor and told her how special she was, and she blinked, like she always does, and then smiled, which she hasn’t done since the day I got her. That’s when I told her the good news about being my best friend. To celebrate her new title, I sang a Cat Stevens song to her called “I Love My Dog” and fed her string cheese. It made her constipated.
Singing Cat Stevens got me thinking about Nate again, which made me more depressed than I already was because he never called back. I’m so pathetic. I can’t even get a guy who was in jail to return a phone call.
I thought I was so clever in doing this. I thought I was getting around Daniel’s advice to analyze each guy by tracking them all down, but I wasn’t. In fact, I ended up doing just what he wanted me do, only more in depth. Rather than skimming the surface of each relationship while sitting at home, I dove in headfirst by finding them all. What was I thinking? Daniel thought doing this would bring me clarity, but it didn’t. If anything, it’s made me more confused and depressed than I was before I started. Depressed because every guy on my list was a mistake. I regret them all. Confused because there’s no one reason why I ended up sleeping with each one, nor is there one reason why each relationship ended. How can I learn from my mistakes if I can’t pinpoint what they are?
I haven’t seen Michelle or Colin since I’ve been home. I called Michelle to congratulate her on her job, and we talked for a second, but then she had to go. She’s already started her new job at Vintage Vogue and has been was swamped. As for Colin, he’s knocked on my door a couple of times and even called, but I didn’t answer. I don’t want to see him. I’m too embarrassed about everything. I shouldn’t have hired him, a neighbor. What was I thinking?
When my mom got the Lily Pond letter last week (which I can’t believe Jan sent—Where does she get off doing that? I bet Carl put her up to it), she rushed over to his apartment in tears, sobbing, “Cohlin, what are we gonna do about our girl?” Apparently, Patsy advised her not to confront me, saying any undue stress might cause a relapse. Although I can’t stand her, I’m happy for once she stuck her nose in my business. Colin said he was so caught off guard when my mom showed up that he panicked and blamed everything on Yoshi, my make-believe boyfriend, saying he got me into drugs.
“Couldn’t you have told her it was a mistake?” I asked.
“I s’pose,” he said. “But once I started tellin’ her what a wanker Yoshi was, I got really into it and told her I beat him up. Instead of complaining you should thank me.”
“He was imaginary,” I pointed out.
“That’s not important,” Colin said. “What is, is that I defended your honor, which I will always do.”
Even though I was touched by Colin saying this, I was also irritated because now I don’t have a make-believe boyfriend and I have to see my mom today at the tasting.
After climbing out of bed and taking a shower, I make my way to the closet and pull out a black jersey knit wrap dress and black heels to wear. I’m in mourning. While getting dressed, I realize the dress is big on me. Aside from the Cheetos in LA, I didn’t eat much while I was away and must’ve lost weight. In addition to Eva, at least one other good thing came out this trip.
The Waldorf=Astoria is an enormous hotel located just north of Grand Central Station on Park Avenue. After asking a bellman to point me in the right direction, I make my way through the elegant lobby to the wedding salon, where I find Daisy and Edward already waiting. Daisy, looking fabulous as always in a simple yellow dress, smiles big when she sees me and bigger when she sees Eva. I didn’t want her to be angry about the “Ave Maria” thing, so I dressed Eva up in a pink taffeta doggie bridesmaid dress, doggie shoes that look like Mary Janes, a faux pearl necklace, and a rhinestone tiara to say I’m sorry.1 Even though I can barely see her under the accessories, I can tell she’s glaring at me, angry that I’ve pimped her out like this. When I telepathically tell her that the outfit was necessary, she perks up and showers Daisy with kisses.
“Heaven help me!” Daisy squeals, as she holds Eva up. “I want one!” Turning to Edward, she bats her eyelashes at him. “Pleeeeeze?”
Instead of answering her, Edward turns to me, thin-lipped. “Thanks, Delilah, thanks a lot.”
After telling Daisy a modified story of Eva (I got her in New York not Philly, one week ago not five weeks ago), she curses the make-believe pet store I said I bought her from, and asks me to write down the address so she can yell at the ornery old lady who put her in the basement.
“I will later,” I say, suddenly hearing a breathy voice from behind me.
“Delilah . . .”
Oh no, it’s my mom. Reluctantly I turn around and find her staring at me pathetically. Her hair is perfectly coiffed and colored, her head slightly lowered. Standing next to her is Patsy.
“Mom!” I exclaim, raising my voice an octave, trying to sound excited to see her. “How are you?”
“Never mind me,” she says, patting down the wrinkles in my dress. “You. How are you?”
“I’m—”
“Come,” she says, not letting me finish, “come to Mama.”
As my mom embraces me, she hugs me hard like she always does, squeezing me so intensely that I can barely breathe. Although I try to pull away, I can’t, so for the next minute, I find myself gasping for air as she silently rocks me back and forth. When she finally (thankfully) releases her hold on me, she whispers in my ear, “You gotta feel it to heal it, Delilah!” Although I have no idea what this means, the fact that Patsy gave my mom a thumbs-up when she said it makes me think it’s some kind of rehab saying.
After turning around to say hello to Daisy, my mom jumps back when she sees Eva in her arms. “Oh my!” she says, clearly startled. “Who’s this?”
“Delilah got a dog!” Daisy cheerfully explains. Holding Eva up, she introduces the two of them. “Mom, say hello to Eva, and Eva, say hello to Grandma.”
“Grandma?” The look on my mother’s face instantly changes. “I’d prefer it if she’d call me Lola.”
“Lola?” Daisy asks, confused.
“Yes, it means grandma in Tagalog, a language they speak in the Philippines.”
Daisy and I exchange odd glances. “Um . . . that’s great, Mom,” Daisy says, turning back to her. “But we’re not Filipino.”
“And we’re not a grandma yet either,” my mom snaps, clearly annoyed she’s been called one. “So watch your mouth!” As Saul, the wedding coordinator, enters the room the smile on her face reappears. “Saul!” she booms, turning to him. “It’s so good to see you!”
“Oh, you too, Ms. Kitty!” he screeches, taking hold of her hands. As the two of them exchange air-kisses, Daisy elbows me.
“Lola?” she mouths.
Having no explanation, I simply shrug.
After greeting everyone else with the same fanfare, Saul freezes when he sees Eva. “Oh no . . .” he says to Daisy, who’s still holding her. “We don’t allow dogs in the kitchen, where the tasting takes place. It’s a health code violation.”
A health code violation? Oops. I didn’t think of this.
Although Saul offers to put Eva in his office, I tell him it’s not a good idea (she has a history of chewing the corners off end tables and desks) and instead offer to run her home since we were still waiting for Edward’s mother to arrive.
“No, no, that’s nonsense,” my mom says, pulling out her cell phone. “Call Michelle and see if she’ll come pick her up.”
“I would, but she’s working,” I explain. “There’s no way she’ll be able to come. She’s been so busy.”
“How about Cohlin?” she then asks.
“I don’t have his number,” I lie.
“Where did Michelle get a job?” Daisy asks, interrupting us. Turning to her, I begin telling her about Vintage Vogue when, out of the corner of my eye, I see my mother hold her cell phone to her ear. Thinking nothing of it, I continue talking until I hear my mom say, “Cohlin? Is that you?” I whip back around.
“Mom!” I yell, trying to grab the phone from her. “Give me that!”
After waving me away, my mom puts a finger in her free ear to drown out my yelling and walks away. As she does, I begin to feel sick to my stomach. I don’t want to see Colin. Damn it!
While I wait in agony for her return, praying she’ll tell me he’s too busy to come, Edward’s mom, Ruth, arrives. Since she was recuperating from a face-lift at the time of the engagement party, neither my mom nor I have met her. After introducing myself to her, my mom returns.
“Cohlin’s on his way,” she says with a smile. Crap. She then turns to Ruth. After admiring her flawless, tawny skin, she attempts a joke. “I thought Edward said his mother was coming . . . not his sister!” As my mom smiles, Ruth laughs, and just like that the two of them are buddy-buddy.
“Since we have to wait for Cohlin,” Saul says, getting everyone’s attention. “Why don’t I take you all on a quick tour of the hotel and show you the Starlight Roof.”
“Well, matzoh tov to that!” my mom proudly exclaims. Even though she’s butchered the word mazel, Daisy, Edward and Ruth all smile at one another, happy she’s at least trying. As everyone files-in behind Saul, excited for the tour, my mom lingers back for a bit. Once she’s sure everyone’s out of an earshot, she turns to me.
“Delilah, quick!” she says frantically, while undoing the top three buttons on her blouse. She gestures to her necklace. “Do you think it’s too big?” Looking down, my eyes widen when I see what is quite possibly the largest diamond-crusted gold crucifix I’ve ever seen.
“Not if you can beatbox,” I joke.
She swats my arm. “Be serious!”
“It’s fine, Mother,” I say, rolling my eyes, “just fine.”
For the next twenty minutes or so, with every silk curtain and allegory mural I pass, I worry about seeing Colin. Even though he doesn’t know the reason behind it, I’m still embarrassed that he knows what I’ve done. Also, a part of me is afraid that what happened with Kyle and e-mail will happen with him and the phone, minus the romance part, of course. After I left Lily Pond, he called me every few hours while I drove to LA to make sure I got there safely. He did the same thing while I drove back to New York too. We’ve talked on the phone a lot, particularly in the last two weeks, and I’m afraid that things will be awkward when we see each other. We know each other but don’t really know each other. I consider him my friend, but he’s not really.
Thankfully, watching my mom try to impress Ruth takes my mind off things. Every time I feel weak in the knees, she says something that makes me laugh. For example, when Saul explains to us that a large mosaic floor in the lobby is made of 148,000 tile pieces, she exclaims, “Soy vay!” After that, she proceeds to describe our grandpa to Ruth as a man with a lot of shitspah. The only word she gets right is when, after I jokingly ask why she isn’t speaking Tagalog, she quietly tells me to stop being such a schmuck.
The Starlight Roof is located on the eighteenth floor in a separate more-exclusive part of the hotel made up of suites and apartments called the Waldorf Towers. When we walk inside the exquisite art deco ballroom, we collectively gasp—it’s breathtaking. Cream-colored silk damask curtains cascade down a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook Park Avenue. Austrian crystal chandeliers hang from either end of a gilt-trimmed ceiling, a ceiling that at one time opened to the stars.
“It doesn’t open anymore,” Saul says, as everyone look up, “but you’d never know it.” When he flips a switch on the wall, thousands of tiny blinking lights turn on, illuminating the ceiling. They twinkle high above our heads, resembling stars. When I look over at Daisy and Edward and see them gazing up at this man-made moonlight, I become melancholy. They look so happy. This is all so perfect.
After taking the elevator down to the lobby, everyone walks back to the wedding salon. In the distance, I see Colin standing by the door, wearing a thin navy blue T-shirt, a beat-up pair of old Levi’s, and Converse sneakers. “Cohlin!” my mother exclaims when she’s sees him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for coming!” We all arrive to where he’s standing.
“Ah, ’twasn’t a problem,” he says, smiling. He then looks at me. I instantly blush.
Shit! I forgot how cute he was. Hoping he didn’t see, I quickly look away.
“Mom, it’s Cahlin,” I say, turning to her.
“Oh, I know. Cohlin’s just my little pet name for him.”
As my mom winks, I look up and shake my head in embarrassment. Why, God? Just why?
After quickly saying hello to everyone, Colin looks down at Eva, who’s half in and half out of her bag. “This must be the Hungarian import,” he says, crouching down. When he sees her outfit, a puzzled look comes over his face. “What’s she wearing?”
“A bridesmaid dress,” I say.
“And shoes,” Daisy adds.
“And a necklace,” Edward adds.
“And a tiara,” Saul adds.
Colin looks at me pathetically.
“I got kinda carried away.”
Saul claps loudly. “Come on everyone! We need to get moving!” As everyone files out of the salon, he turns to me. “Delilah, we’ll be waiting for you by the elevators.” I nod.
With everyone gone, Colin and I are alone. Afraid I might blush again, I quickly hand Eva over without making eye contact. “Sorry it’s so girly-looking,” I say, apologizing for the pink and green argyle bag. “Do you wanna just take her home and I can pick her up later?”
Instead of answering, Colin moves his head up, down, and around, trying to make eye contact, and I move my head up, down, and around, trying to avoid it. It’s like a game of keep-away. After a few seconds, I end up losing.
“That’s better,” he says when our eyes finally meet. He then smiles. And I then blush again.
Damn it.
“Actually, I’ve got some things to do,” he continues. “So how ’bout I meet you back here in a couple hours instead?”
I nod. “Sounds good.” After saying good-bye, I join the rest of the group by the elevators.
Like the rest of the hotel, the kitchen is enormous, which thrills my mother beyond belief. Seeing ovens large enough to bake racks of meat and fryers large enough to cook crates of vegetables gets her so worked up that she needs a drink to settle down. Lucky for her, the wine flows freely when the tasting begins, and everyone joins her in drinking except Daisy and me. I feel somewhat sick. I must still be nervous.
For the next two hours, everyone helps Daisy and Edward not only decide the menu but also pick out the china, crystal and linens that will be used on their big day. We all eat like kings and queens as servers bring trays of food—trays filled with lobster, steak, chicken, and foie gras; with mushrooms, potatoes, onions, and asparagus; and with yellow cake, white cake, chocolate cake, and red devil cake. Everything is so delicious that we have a problem deciding what to have. By the time the tasting is over, so many bars have been added to the big day—from martini bars to oyster bars to ceviche bars to coffee bars—that I lose track.
Before leaving, while waiting for Saul to go over an official list of things with Daisy and Edward, Ruth asks me if Cohlin is my boyfriend. Hearing this question makes my mother sink in her seat. Seeing as though I’m single again because my make-believe ex-boyfriend was a drug addict, she’s not sure what to say. Usually she’d tell whoever’s asking that I work too much, but since I currently don’t have a job, she can’t do that.
“No, we’re just friends,” I say. “Actually, not even friends—we’re neighbors.”
“Oh, I see,” Ruth says. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Delilah doesn’t have much luck in the men department,” Patsy pipes in, deciding to answer for me. Ruth turns to her.
“Oh no? And why’s that?”
“Because she either dates losers or she doesn’t date at all!” Patsy laughs after she says this like she joking, but both she and I know she’s not.
“For your information, Patsy,” I say, sitting high in my chair, “I don’t need a man.” While I try to convince myself that I believe this, I glance over at my mother. She seems horrified by my comments. I mean, what kind of woman doesn’t need a man? A lesbian, that’s what kind.
Just then Saul, Daisy and Edward thankfully return with the paperwork. After announcing it’s time to leave for my fitting at Saks, I quickly say good-bye to everyone and race toward the elevator bank, hoping to ride upstairs by myself. I want to get out of here. After pressing the button, I wait for a car.
And wait.
And wait.
A few minutes later, an elevator thankfully comes. Just as I step inside, the rest of the group turns the corner and asks me to hold the doors. Reluctantly I do. As we all ride back to the lobby together, I can’t help but notice that my mother is staring at me. She looks like she’s biting her tongue. She’s had one too many glasses of wine and I can tell she’s dying to say something to me. Looking away, I ignore her.
While walking toward the wedding salon, I feel relieved when I see Colin waiting in the distance and pick up my pace. When Eva spots me and sticks her head out of her bag, I notice that she’s not wearing any of her clothes. Then I notice something else. Then I notice . . . bangs.
Arriving to where Colin is standing, I pull Eva out of her bag and am horrified at what I see: all her hair’s been cut off, including her handlebar mustache and topknot. As the rest of the group approaches, I hear a collective gasp from behind me.
“What did you do to her?” I shriek, looking up at Colin.
“I got her a proper haircut,” he replies innocently. He’s smiling from ear to ear, thinking he’s done a nice thing.
“And what would possess you to do that?”
Sensing my unhappiness, Colin’s smile slowly disappears. “Well, uh . . . it’s warm outside today . . . and you had her stuffed in this bag all dressed up like a—”
“Baby,” Patsy blurts out from behind me.
Turning around, I shoot her a dirty look.
“Well sorry, but it’s true,” she says in defense. “That’s why a single woman your age gets a puppy, to satisfy your ticking biological clock.”
“That’s not why I got her.”
“Oh, please,” Patsy says, rolling her eyes. “Clothes aside, look at that bag—you might as well get her a stroller.”
Looking over at Daisy and Edward, I see that they’re laughing. Ruth is laughing, too. The only person who seems to be as horrified as I am is my mother, but she’s not looking at Eva. She’s looking at me. She’s biting her tongue still too. After sending Patsy a subliminal message to BURN IN HELL, I turn back around to Colin.
“I’m sorry, Del,” he says. “But she looked hot, so I took her to get a haircut.”
“Where? Supercuts?”
“No, someplace down the street,” he says, not picking up on the fact that I’m being sarcastic. He looks down at Eva. “What, don’t you like it? I think she looks cute.”
“She doesn’t look cute,” I say, shaking my head, “she looks like a, a—”
“Lesbian!” my mom suddenly screams.
A lesbian? Lovely, just lovely. Ever so slowly, I turn around and look at her. Although she still looks upset, she seems somewhat relieved to have gotten that out.
“Mom, she’s not a lesbian,” I say slowly.
“Well, then, I don’t understand—Why is she still single?”
“Maybe she wants to be single—Have you ever thought about that?”
“Nobody wants to be single, not forever, not for as long as she has.”
“Well, then, maybe she can’t figure out what the reason is, and maybe your harping and worrying only makes things worse.”
“I only harp and worry because I care,” my mom says, her voice softening. “I don’t like seeing her lonely.”
“She’s not lonely,” I reply, my voice softening as well.
“Yes, she is.”
I hold my mom’s gaze for a few seconds and then look away. As I turn back to Colin and Eva, I catch a glimpse of Daisy, Edward, Ruth, and Patsy, all looking very confused. Taking Eva’s bag from Colin, I turn and walk toward the front door. As I do, I hear Daisy mumble: “All that about a dog?”
sizing up
A minute later, I’m walking down the street holding my dog, which looks like a Chihuahua—which is what I was going to say. Colin trots next to me, apologizing for the one-hundredth time. The thing is, I’m not mad about the buzz cut anymore. Eva is cute no matter what her hair looks like. I’m just frustrated about everything. I feel aimless, useless. What am I doing with my life? Moreover, what is Colin doing and why is he following me?
Once I get to Saks, a wedding associate hands me my dress, shows me to a fitting room, and tells me she’ll be back. The dress, a strapless Vera Wang design, is simple and elegant. As I get undressed to slip it on, my cell phone beeps, signaling a message. I stop what I’m doing to listen. “Hi Del, it’s Mom . . .”
Oh, great. I can hardly wait to hear this.
“I’m sorry about my outburst at the hotel,” she says. “I guess I’m just looking for an excuse because I don’t understand why you haven’t met anyone yet, and I don’t like seeing you alone. Honey, I worry about you because I think you’re too much like your grandpa when it comes to love. It’s not like it is in the movies. There is no boom. You’re being unrealistic and waiting for a perfect guy to come along, a perfect guy that doesn’t exist. You keep getting caught up in things that are larger than life—ideas, men—things that sweep you off your feet. But easy come, easy go. I’m not telling you to settle, but you need to settle down. In life, in love. Quit making things so difficult for yourself. Quit fighting everything in your life, Delilah, from imperfect men to my hugs. If you relax and give in, you’ll find that it’s much easier to breathe.”
When my mom’s message ends, I click my phone shut sitting down, I think about what she said. Maybe I do make life more difficult than it needs to be. Maybe I am holding out for a perfect man; maybe that’s my problem. Twenty men—it’s like I wasn’t too picky in having slept with them all, but I was too picky in eliminating them all from being the one, you know? I know I didn’t walk out on every relationship, but I did walk out on a lot of them. Either way, I never tried to make things work with any of them.
Damn it! I’m more confused now than I was before I left.
After standing back up, I slip the dress over my head. When I look in the mirror, I’m relieved at what I see—the dress is beautiful. Daisy got it right, all of it—the color, the style, everything—it’s perfect. The back resembles a corset and both zips and laces closed. Although I try, I can’t reach to fasten it, so I peek my head outside the door and look for the bridal associate.
“She ran out for a minute,” Colin says when he sees me. He’s sitting on a chair outside the fitting room, holding Eva on his lap. “Do you need help with something?”
“I need to be zipped and laced,” I say quietly.
“I can do it,” he offers.
Hesitating for a moment, I glance down at Eva. He’s dressed her back up in her dress and tiara, no doubt trying to make up for the bad haircut. I look back up. Oh my. He’s so nice and I’m such a bitch. I feel horrible for yelling at him at the hotel.
“Okay,” I say, and then I let him in the fitting room.
After putting Eva down on a chair, Colin walks over to where I’m standing on a little pedestal in front of the mirror. Standing behind me, he slowly pulls up the zipper and then begins to tighten the laces, one row at a time. As he does, I can’t help but feel nervous—I feel so exposed. When he finishes, he ties a bow at the top and then gently moves his hands up across the top of my back, resting them on my bare shoulders.
“Why’ve you been avoiding me?” he asks, as our eyes meet in the mirror. I feel a flash of heat in my face.
“I haven’t been avoiding you.”
Colin raises a brow. “Yes, you have.”
“No, really, I haven’t.”
Taking me by the shoulders, Colin turns me around so that the two of us are face to face. Standing on the pedestal, I’m almost as tall as he is. “Yes, you have,” he repeats slowly. “You’ve been avoiding me and I wanna know why.”
Looking at him closely, I don’t say anything right away and instead study his face. In addition to his big brown eyes and chiseled face, he has thick, almost unruly eyebrows and a slight five o’clock shadow. He’s so messy yet so perfect. He’s clearly not vain.
“C’mon,” he says again. “Tell me.”
I look down. Although I want to stay strong, his good looks make me weak in the knees. “I don’t know,” I say, instantly let my guard down. “I’m embarrassed, I guess.”
“Why? Because three of your ex-boyfriends are gay?”
“No,” I say shaking my head, “it’s more than that.”
Colin lets out a sigh. “Del, why won’t you tell me what you were doing? Maybe I can help.”
Looking back at him, I don’t say anything.
“How ’bout if I tell you something embarrassing about myself?” he offers. “Will that make it easier?”
“Depends what it is,” I say. “It has to be big embarrassing.”
“I can do that.”
I think about it for a bit. “Okay,” I say slowly, eventually giving in. “If you tell me something embarrassing, then I’ll tell you.”
“Deal.” Colin’s face turns serious as he gets ready to fess up. “Okay, I’ve never told anyone this, but . . .” He pauses, obviously nervous. “I can play the button accordion,” he blurts out. “I can. My mom made me take lessons when I was a little boy, and I can still play to this day.” Looking down, Colin shakes his head, pretending to be beside himself with embarrassment having admitted this. I hit him in the arm.
“Colin, be serious!”
He looks up, laughing. “I’m sorry,” he says, “really. It’s just that, after the whole your-dog-is-a-lesbian conversation at the hotel, you’ve been so tense and I wanted to loosen you up.”
“I’m fine,” I say, even though I’m irritated. “Now, come on. Be serious.”
“Okay, fine. I will. Sorry, no more jokes, I promise.” The look on his face turns serious once again. “Truthfully . . .” he then says slowly, “I fucked up my soap opera audition. I screwed it up really badly, and it was horrible, the most embarrassing thing ever.” By the look on his face, I can tell he’s telling the truth.
“How so?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I don’t know what happened. I’m usually pretty confident, but for some reason when I got to the studio where the audition was, I started sizing myself up compared to the other actors in the waiting room. We were all up for the same part. I don’t know why, but I started thinking, That guy’s taller than me and That guy’s better looking, and I started obsessing over stupid shit. Pretty soon I was second-guessing my acting ability, and by the time I got into the room with the producers, my confidence was shot. I forgot all my lines. I kept tripping over my words. They were smirking; it was horrible.” Colin looks down. He looks genuinely disappointed and embarrassed. I feel bad for him.
“I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think it was,” I say, trying to make him feel better. “You’re probably just being hard on yourself.”
He lets out a little laugh. “Trust me—it was horrible.”
“Well, there’ll be more auditions, right?”
“Yeah, but the reason I’m so upset about this is that, after I left, I started rethinking what I’m doing with my life. I started thinking that maybe my father is right, maybe I do need to have a backup plan. This is the first time I’ve ever really doubted myself.”
Putting my hand on his shoulder, I speak honestly. “Listen Colin, I know I was excited when you told me about this audition, but the more I think about it now . . . do you really want to be on a soap opera anyway? I mean, I know it’s a big deal and all, but—”
“No,” Colin says quickly, interrupting, “I don’t wanna be on a soap opera. I never have. When I got the call, I was kind of excited because there’s something appealing about a steady job and paycheck, but I didn’t really wanna do it. Do you know what I mean?”
I nod. “Security is attractive.”
“I’m not saying I’m too good for a soap opera,” Colin continues, “but there’s other stuff I want to do, other stuff that pushes me and excites me, and this role didn’t do that.”
“So don’t let something that you never wanted make you feel like a failure then,” I say. “It happened for a reason.”
“Yeah, yeah . . .” Colin shrugs. “That’s easy to say, harder to do.”
“Do you have anything else on the horizon?”
Colin’s eyes light up. “Well, yeah, I met with a director about a role in an independent film he’s trying to get funding for. It’s an amazing script—it’s like a modern-day Irish gangsta thug movie.”
“Irish gangsters?” I give Colin a funny look. “Is there such a thing?”
“Absolutely,” he says, trying to act tough. We both laugh.
After we both compose ourselves, Colin moves my hand off his shoulder and holds it. “Okay,” he says, looking me in the eye, “I shared; now it’s your turn. Why were you tracking down old boyfriends?”
Damn it. I don’t want to tell him, but I said I would. With that, after taking a deep breath, I begin taking. “Well, about seven months ago, I read a survey . . .”
For the next ten minutes or so, I tell Colin the truth about everything. I tell him about Roger and Daniel, about Daisy and my mom—I tell him everything. While doing so, he never laughs, smirks, or rolls his eyes. He simply listens intently and nods.
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” I ask, when I finish telling him the whole story.
“No, I don’t think you’re crazy,” he says kindly. “But I do think you’re making a big deal out of something that’s not.”
“Maybe for a guy this isn’t a big deal, but for a woman it is.”
Colin shakes his head. “Del, if you’re eighteen years old and you’ve had sex with twenty guys, then yeah, sure, I can understand freaking about it, but not when you’re our age. Also, you can’t compare yourself to an average, or anyone else for that matter, without taking into consideration the quality of the relationships you’ve all had with each guy.”
I laugh. “Okay, Sally Jesse.”
“Hey, you wanted me to be serious and I am,” Colin says. “Listen, I guarantee there’s a woman out there somewhere who’s had sex with ten men—half the number you had—yet never knew any of them for more than an hour, never got any of their phone numbers afterward, and never saw any of them again. On paper, her number would be lower than yours, but she’s definitely a little more . . .” Colin searches for the right word.
“Trampy?” I propose.
“No, forget I even said that,” Colin says, waving off my suggestion. “Labels aside, the bottom line is that how many people we’ve all slept with isn’t a big deal.”
“Oh, right,” I say, rolling my eyes, “like you wouldn’t care if your girlfriend slept with twenty guys before you?”
“I wouldn’t care because I’d never ask. Whether her number is twenty or one, how would me knowing that affect our relationship? Would it make me laugh harder at her jokes? Would it make us get along better? No. That has no bearing on a real relationship whatsoever. I mean, the fact that a woman is a prude might be exciting for a second—a chase is always fun—but it’s more of a novelty, a wrapper, than anything else. Once you get into a relationship, it’s the meat and potatoes that count, not the package it came in.”
I struggle with this. I want to agree with him. I want to believe that this is not a big deal, but I can’t. “I see your point, but it’s still hard for me to let this go and pretend it doesn’t matter. Sex aside, something must be wrong with me if I can’t seal the deal. I’ve had twenty intimate relationships, twenty opportunities. And many more that weren’t intimate. What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong with you. You just haven’t met the right person yet.” Suddenly a knowing smile comes over Colin’s face. “You know what you’re doing?” he asks, smiling. “You’re doing the same thing I did in that waiting room during the audition. You’re sizing yourself up against your competition, the other women out there, and second-guessing yourself.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but like you said, I can’t help it.”
The two of us sit in silence for a bit.
“You know, to make all this worse, having gone back, I now feel like a bigger screw-up than before I started. I’ve dated nothing but losers. I have poor judgment.”
Colin lets out a little laugh. “You’re brave.”
“How so?”
“You wouldn’t catch me revisiting the ghosts of girlfriends past.”
I smile. “Oh, and why’s that?”
“They just uh . . . well,” he stutters, “some of them might not be too excited to see me.”
I give him a look. I know his type. “You’re a heartbreaker, aren’t you?” I ask.
“No,” Colin says, defending himself. “I just don’t fall in love very easily.”
I nod. “Yep, you’re a heartbreaker.” As Colin laughs, I suddenly realize that I’m completely comfortable being with him. I didn’t get the same awkward feeling I got with Kyle. Granted we haven’t been having sex in this fitting room, but still. “You know,” I was worried about seeing you today.”
Colin looks at me funny. “Worried? Why?”
“I thought it would be weird seeing you after talking so much on the phone, because we know each other but don’t really know each other, you know? I mean, we haven’t spent time together or anything.”
“Well, what’s the verdict? Weird or not?”
“Not,” I say, smiling. “How about for you?”
“All’s good,” he says, winking. “But, you know what we should do? To make sure things don’t become weird we should look at each other without talking, to make up for the times we talked on the phone without looking.”
I laugh. “That’ll take hours.”
“Well, I have all night. How about you?”
“Not only do I have all night, but I have all day tomorrow and the next day and the next day. I have no job, no life—I don’t have anything. Except a dog.”
“Well, then let’s get going.” Taking me by the shoulder once again, Colin turns me back around. The two of us then look in the mirror at my scarlet dress.
“I feel like Hester Prynne, standing up here in this dress,” I joke. “I feel like there should be a big letter A on my chest or something. Or at least a T for tramp.”
“Nah,” Colin says softly. He slides his hands down the sides of my arms, giving me goose bumps. They land at my waist. “There should be a tiara on your head because you look like a princess.” Suddenly remembering Eva’s wearing one, he reaches over, plucks it from her head and puts it on mine. I laugh when he does. “This is some dress, my dear,” he then says, gazing at it in the mirror. “This is some dress.”
20 times a lady
After walking back to the Waldorf, Colin drives us back to the apartment on his beat-up Vespa. As per my request, he doesn’t go faster than fifteen miles per hour because Eva is pressed between the two of us in her bag and I don’t think it’s safe. By the time we get home, we both look wild and crazy from the ride. It’s unusually humid outside, too humid for May. The air is getting thick. I think it might rain.
After I change into jeans and a T-shirt, I go over to Colin’s. Neither of us have our air-conditioners in yet and his apartment is slightly cooler than mine. For the remainder of the afternoon, the two of us hang out and do silly things. We draw caricatures of each other, watch his one appearance on Law & Order (he had one line and did a really good job), and have staring contests to balance out the phone calls. (He wins each time because I keep bursting into laughter.) After he calls the Jimmys to ask if they can help make my five tickets disappear (they can—kick ass), the two of us then watch Eva explore Colin’s apartment. It’s amazing the way she works the perimeter of a room, eating dust. She’s like a Roomba.2 Seriously, throw away your brooms, donate your vacuum cleaners, and fire the maid. All you need to keep a clean a clean house is a Yorkie.
As night falls, the air gets thicker, and although Colin’s apartment is stuffy, it’s nice to hear the hustle and bustle of New York City—the traffic, the people—instead of a buzzing air conditioner. For dinner we order in Korean food and, afterward, lay on the couch in the dark—each of us at an end—split a bottle of wine, and tell stories. I tell Colin about rehab, the twins, Muppets and puppets, and he tells me more about Dublin, acting, and his family.
“No, no, no,” I say, as he’s telling me. “I want to know more about the ghosts of girlfriends past. I wanna hear some dirt.”
“Noooooo,” Colin says, laughing. “Absolutely not.”
“Okay, then how about the ghosts of girlfriends present?”
“I don’t have any girlfriends present.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, give me a break. Your phone’s been ringing nonstop since Saks.” Just as I say this, the light of his cell phone glows yet again, signaling a call. Grinning, we both reach for it at the same time—I get to it first. While flipping through the calls he’s recently received, I read the names aloud. “Britney, Lacy, Mark, Amy, Chrissy, Alison.” I put the phone down. “That’s five women in the last few hours!”
“Those women are not my girlfriends,” Colin says defensively.
“Do they know that?”
“Of course they do! Listen, I’m no angel, but I’m no pig either. I don’t sleep with multiple women at the same time and I’ve never treated a woman with anything but respect.”
“So you don’t have a girlfriend, then?” I ask, doubting him.
Colin shakes his head. “Nope. I have a friend who’s a girl, but she’s not my girlfriend, and it’s basically over.”
“Why’s it over?” I ask curiously.
Colin shrugs. “It just wasn’t there.”
“What’s it? What are you looking for?”
He thinks about it. “I don’t have a list or anything. I just haven’t met that person that I want to hold a boom box up for yet.”
Boom box . . . “You mean like Lloyd Dobler? Say Anything . . . ?”
Colin nods, smiling, thinking of it. “Yep.”
“Great movie . . .”
“The best.”
In Say Anything . . . John Cusack plays Lloyd Dobler, a quirky guy who falls head-over-heels in love with a girl named Diane. When Diane breaks up with him, he’s so determined to get her back that he goes to her house and stands outside her window holding up a boom box blasting the song “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel. He’s not just heartbroken, but positive that they’re meant to be together, so he goes back for her.
“You know that excuse . . . it’s not you, it’s me?” Colin asks.
I nod. I’ve used it and I’ve had it used on me.
“I say that a lot,” he continues, “when I break up with someone, but I don’t really mean it when I do. I’m not the reason my relationships end but neither are the women. It’s not me and it’s not them—it’s that we never had a we. There was no us. It’s hard to say what makes two people have that, because it’s something you can’t put into words. It’s a feeling. I know it’s only a movie, but I want the feeling that Lloyd had. He didn’t just want Diane, he needed her, so he did everything in his power to get her back.”
“My grandpa calls that the boom,” I say softly. “He says it’s different from love or lust; it’s deeper. It’s a feeling that hits you hard when you have a real connection with someone.”
“Exactly,” Colin says.
Remembering my mom’s message, I can’t help but wonder if thinking like this is crazy.
“Colin, do you ever think you’re being an idealist?” I ask. “Do you ever wonder if you’re holding out for something that doesn’t exist? I’m not being pessimistic, and although I’d like to believe that a boom or we or us exists, I’m not sure I do anymore.” I mean, maybe my mom’s right. Maybe I’ve been holding out for something that’s unrealistic.
“Of course it exists,” Colin says ardently. “But like I told you, it takes some of us longer to find it than others.”
As the two of us sit in silence, I think about Lloyd Dobler some more and then something suddenly dawns on me. I went looking for twenty guys, not one of which ever came looking for me. I can make fun of them all I want, like Wade or the twins, but the truth is that when I left, none of them called me or wrote me—let alone held up a boom box. No one really cared.
“What are ya thinking about?” Colin asks after a bit.
“Nothing,” I say quietly. I then look at him and smile. “Who would’ve thought such a sweet-talking ladies’ man like yourself would be such a romantic.” Colin throws a pillow at me.
As the two of us sit in the dark and stare some more, Colin smokes a cigarette, which he says he normally doesn’t do. Usually I think smoking is gross, but there’s something sexy about Colin doing it tonight. Maybe it’s the way the orange embers light up his face as he takes a drag or the way the smoke hangs in the air, illuminated by the streetlight coming in through the window. I don’t know. It’s just such a sexy New York moment, something you might see in a magazine or in a movie, or, if you’re lucky, in person. It’s the heat, the smoke, the noise, the wine, the dog, the tins of half-eaten food lying on the table, the hula hoop in the corner, and the grittiness that makes this city so fabulous. I like Colin. I don’t know why I felt nervous about seeing him. For being so good-looking, he’s surprisingly unpretentious. He puts me at ease.
“Tell me about your accordion.” I ask when he finishes his cigarette.
“Okay, I will,” he says, “but you gotta come lie right here next to me while I do because I don’t want to talk about it loudly. I don’t want anyone to hear.”
Laughing, I get up and walk over to his side of the couch. When he scoots over, I lie down next to him and rest my head against his shoulder. Once we’re comfortable, he begins.
“Well, it’s about this big,” he whispers, holding his hands out a foot apart. “But it can get this big,” he adds, spreading them apart another foot. “And it’s got buttons on both sides.” He begins to move his hands wildly up and down.
“It doesn’t have a piano on one side?” I ask. I thought they all did.
“No, that’s a piano accordion,” he explains. “Mine is a button accordion. No piano—only buttons.”
I smile . . . got it. “What color is it?”
“Red.”
“How does it sound?”
“It goes bum ba ba, bum ba ba.” Colin says, doing his best accordion imitation. “Wanna hear a song?” I nod enthusiastically. After clearing his throat, Colin starts to play his fake accordion and sing. “Thaaanks for the time that you’ve given me. The memories are alllll in my mind . . .”
I smile; it’s a familiar song—“Three Times a Lady.”
“And nowww that we’ve commme to the ennnd of our rainbowww, there’s something I mussst say out loud. You’re once . . .”
“Once!” I add.
“Twice.”
“Twice!”
“TWENTY TIMES a laaaaaaaaddyyyyyy!”
Twenty times? I playfully swat his arm.
“And I lovvve youuu. I luh-huh-huvvv youuu!”
When Colin’s done with his rendition of “Three Times a Lady,” I can’t help but ask him what the song means. “To be three times a lady? Or twenty times?”
“Beats me,” he says. He then begins singing again. “That’s why I’m easy! Easy like Sunday morning . . .”
Laughing, I swat Colin’s arm again. “You’re such an asshole.”
I don’t remember falling asleep, but the next morning I wake up still lying on Colin’s couch. Sitting up, I look toward the kitchen and see him standing over the stove, spatula in hand. He’s wearing a T-shirt and boxer briefs again, like he was the day I came home from Roger’s. Eva is hovering around his feet, licking up spills and droppings—she’s a mop today. Hearing me rise, Colin turns around. His hair is messy again; his eyes are sleepy.
“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya!” he says in jest. He then motions to a small kitchen table. “Please, come sit yourself down.”
After standing up, I walk to the table and smile at what I see. On top of a placemat sits an empty plate, silverware, a glass of orange juice, and an empty beer bottle holding some kind of a leafy branch. “I pulled it off the tree outside the window,” Colin explains when I reach out to touch it. I smile. I can’t believe he made me breakfast; I’m impressed.
But then I get a whiff of what he’s cooking. I’m now nervous.
“What are you making?” I ask uneasily. Whatever it is, it’s a smell I’ve never smelled before.
“Oh, you’re gonna like it,” Colin says, as his grin widens. The look on his face resembles that of a little boy who’s just built a bottle rocket and is eager to test it out. “It’s a very special fry, but I can’t tell you what’s in it. In fact, you have to close your eyes when you eat it.”
“Close my eyes? Why?”
“Because it’s more fun to guess what’s in it than to actually look at what’s in it.”
“Is this one of those mixing-leftovers together kind of thing you were telling me about?” Colin nods. “Okay,” I sigh. I mean, how bad can it be? Sitting down, I close my eyes. “Bring it on.”
For the next half hour or so, I try my best to guess the magical ingredients of Colin’s fry. Aside from eggs, I taste pepperoni pizza, cheese, calamari, a cheeseburger (with bun), an onion, chicken tikka masala, and yes . . . an egg roll. While I am eating, Colin frequently takes the fork out of my hand to make sure I have a little bit of everything on each bite. He says doing this is necessary in order to fully appreciate what he’s created.
When I finish eating, I open my eyes, look down at the plate and jump. The multi-colored concoction looks frightening. “You’re s’posed to approach love and cooking with reckless abandon,” Colin says, attempting to explain.
“I’ve never heard that, but between the two of us, I think we’ve accomplished it.”
Colin laughs.
Looking back at the table, I can’t help but feel touched. Breakfast was just like the tasting at the Waldorf, except it was just for me. When I turn back to Colin, I glance down at his perfect pink lips and suddenly get the urge to kiss him. I really do. I just want to lean over and plant my lips on his.
But I can’t do that.
I can’t kiss the first guy who’s nice to me; I can’t kiss Colin. I need to take something away from all this. Besides, he knows my number, every woman’s magazine says that’s just bad news. I need to learn a lesson. My mom was right; I have an unrealistic idea about love. I get caught up in the moment too easily. New things are exciting. Colin is new. And I know guys like him. He’s a heartbreaker; I don’t care what he says. To allow myself to feel flattered by all of this would be a giant mistake. I’m not saying kissing him would end in sleeping with him, but if for some crazy reason it did—even down the line—he’d be just another number, just another name on my list. Easy come, easy go. I need to settle down; I need to back off.
When I look back up at Colin, I realize that he’s not smiling. When I once again glance down at his perfect pink lips, he moves slightly closer to me, and then losing all sense of reality I move slightly closer to him, and then—
We both slightly jump back when we hear knocking come from the hallway.
“What was that?” I ask Colin.
“Uh . . . it sounds like someone’s knocking on your door,” he guesses.
Standing up, I walk over to Colin’s door. I open it. Peeking my head out into the hallway, I see the back of a guy standing in front of my door, dressed casually in tan corduroys, a blue long-sleeved T-shirt, and flip-flops. I can’t tell who it is.
“Can I help you?” I ask. As soon as I do, before he turns around, I notice little holes in the elbows of his T-shirt.
Wait, holes in the elbows of his T-shirt? Could it be?
When the guy turns around, I’m shocked to see that it is.
“Hey,” Nate says warmly, Nate who was in jail, Nate my #1. His hair is still floppy and his cheeks are still flushed—he looks good. Holding flowers, he smiles and points to my door. “I’m sorry, I thought this was your apartment.”
“Uh . . . it is,” I say nervously, stepping into the hallway. I close Colin’s door behind me. “Uh . . . what are you doing here?” I’m shocked to see him; I honestly can’t believe my eyes.
“Well, I got your message and”—he walks over and hands me the flowers—”I was just wondering if you’d like to go to dinner tonight.”
“Dinner?” I let out a nervous breath I’ve been holding and smile. “That’d be great!”
I hear Colin’s door open and turn around to find him standing in the doorway, holding Eva. He gives Nate a once-over but doesn’t smile; he seems wary of him. I introduce the two of them. When Colin hears Nate’s name, he raises an eyebrow, no doubt realizing who he is: he’s the jailbird. After that, we all stare at one another uncomfortably for a few seconds.
“So, Delilah,” Nate eventually says, “how about I come back around eight?”
“Eight sounds great.”
“Perfect,” Nate replies, “I’ll see you then.” After leaning in and giving me a kiss on the cheek, he turns and walks down the stairs. As soon as Colin and I hear the front door of the building open and close, he turns to me.
“The jailbird?” he says pathetically. “You’re gonna go to dinner with the jailbird?”
“Hmmm . . . is it my imagination or did the Jimmys—who are police officers—mention something to me about you keeping their hands full?”
“That,” Colin says, holding his pointer in the air for emphasis, “has nothing to do with this situation right here.” He waits for me to respond, but I don’t say anything. “Delilah, did nothing I say yesterday register with you?”
“Yes it did, but you don’t understand—this is different. Nate was my first love. I’m not going to dinner with him because he’s one of the twenty and if things worked out between us my number wouldn’t go up, I’m going to dinner with him because he’s my first love and well . . . he came back for me! That has to mean something!” Suddenly remembering the way I felt when Nate and I first dated makes me giddy with excitement. I feel like a teenager again!
Colin shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be negative,” he says, running his hand through his hair, “but I don’t have a good feeling about this guy. Call it Irish intuition.”
“There’s no such thing.”
“Sure there is,” he insists. “My mum and my sister both have it.”
“They have women’s intuition.”
“Whatever,” Colin says, waving me off. “I have it too.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I have a good feeling about this guy. Besides, what happened to ‘approach love and cooking with reckless abandon’? Huh?”
Realizing I have a point, Colin angrily grunts. “Fine!” he grumbles, storming back into his apartment, “but I’m gonna keep my Irish eyes on him, and if he screws up just once.” He stops talking for a second. “Let’s just say the Jimmys will have their hands full again.”
“Thank you,” I say with a giggle.
1 The outfit was another one of life’s little emergencies.
2 One of those robotic vacuums that cleans the floor while you sit on the couch and do nothing.