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Friday night, Emmett Tran, full of self-consciousness, put on aftershave, carefully tousled his hair, and put on his favorite Pink Floyd t-shirt. He dropped his daughters off at Rhonda’s house and then went to a party. Tobey had told him to “get out there,” so that was what he going to do, even if the socialization killed him.
It was only a small gathering in the back room of an Italian restaurant to celebrate a co-worker’s engagement, but it was the first time he had gone somewhere for himself since before Megan died.
He didn’t recognize many of the people in attendance, about handful of people from his floor at work, fellow programmers with equally bad socialization skills.
He had been hoping for a sit-down dinner, or maybe a party game, something to keep him occupied. But it was just drinks and appetizers. There was one table at the far end with a waitress pouring beers and wines, and another table with calamari and bread sticks arranged on tiny paper plates. There wasn’t even a table for gifts to open later. Instead they had a tree with paper clips where people could attach gift cards or cash.
Emmett remembered something much louder and less classy when he and Megan got engaged. Rhonda had baked a chocolate cake and served chips and dip, and there had been a mound of gifts of towels and shower curtains and underwear that Megan never wore. But then, they had been teenagers, and had never lived alone, and had needed all those things to start their life together. Jill and Jordan probably already had all those things. They had been living together for almost a year, and Jill had a four-year-old daughter.
Emmett ate some calamari, not because he liked it, but it gave him something to do. He was reaching for a paper napkin when he heard someone call his name.
It was Lindsey from the cubicle a few rows over from him. She had started working at the company about seven months ago. They said hi in the break room every once and a while and both agreed that fancy, flavored creamer was unnecessary if the coffee itself was well brewed.
“Hi, Emmett, it’s good to see you,” Lindsey said after she had pushed her way past a group of strangers to get to him. It seemed she had just come from the drink table, as her glass of red wine was still full. “You look nice tonight.”
“Oh, thanks. You too. I think I’m a little underdressed.” He gestured to his t-shirt.
She was wearing a summery dress with big flowers, as were most of the women, and basically all of the men had on button-ups and khakis.
“Don’t be silly. What’s the point of going to an outside-the-office party if we’re still dressed in office clothes?”
“I think the point is the alcohol,” Emmett said.
Lindsey laughed. “Yes, probably. I don’t usually drink, but I needed something to do with my hands. The snacks here aren’t exactly my style.”
Emmett smiled and nodded in understanding. “Oh, hey, where’s Michael L.?” They had to go by last letters at the office because there were so many Michaels, and none of them wanted to go by Mike or a middle name.
Lindsey shrugged. “Michael L? I don’t know. I don’t even know if he came.”
“Oh, really? A couple days ago I heard him ask you to be his date for tonight.”
“Oh, yeah, he did ask me. I said no thanks.” She pursed her lips but then took a sip of wine instead of saying something else.
“Good for you. He seems like kind of a jerk,” Emmett said.
Lindsey smiled a little. “Yeah, kind of a lot of a jerk. He is always telling Michael R. he knows what he’s doing, and then last minute before the sprint is over he asks for my help and then never even thanks me.”
“He’s embarrassed that you’re a junior programmer and already understands the program better,” Emmett said. “I hate guys who can’t handle that somebody is better than they are.”
“Can’t handle that a girl is better than they are,” Lindsey corrected.
“Yeah.” Emmett looked down at his drink. “Sorry about him.”
“It’s not your fault,” Lindsey said.
“Sorry about toxic masculinity in general, then,” Emmett said.
“Also not your fault,” Lindsey said. “I’m guessing you’re also dateless tonight, since you’re talking to me instead of pretending you need to be somewhere else.”
“I’m talking to you because I like you,” Emmett said. “But yes, I am dateless. People are afraid to ask me out. They think I’m not ready to get back out there yet.”
“Sometimes I wish I had that problem,” Lindsey said. “It would save me from guys like Michael L. thinking I’m so desperate for a date that I’ll say yes to anybody.”
“You wish your wife were dead too?” Emmett meant it as a joke, but he realized as it came out that there was no way it could have sounded that way.
“Oh my god, no, oh my god, your wife is dead, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that’s why you were...single...oh god...” Lindsey ducked her brilliant red face behind her hand.
Emmett put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. Yes, my wife died. About a year ago. But I’m fine. Really.”
Lindsey peeked out from behind her drink. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Emmett said.
“I heard you were a single dad, but I figured you were divorced. Nobody talks about it at the office.”
“Yeah, they think they’re going to upset me, I guess.” Emmett shrugged. “And I’m, um, kind of tired of it. I mean, I still miss Megan, but, I’m kind of ready to...not be alone anymore.”
“Well, I hear Michael L. is desperate for a date,” Lindsey said, her eyes watching him carefully to see how he would react to the joke.
“Hmmm, Michael L? I’m not really into jerks,” Emmett said. “But maybe Michael Q. He seems nice. Could you set me up with him?”
Lindsey smiled. “I’ll see if I can get his number for you.”
“Can I offer to get you anything from the drinks table? I think I’ll head that way.” All this talking was making his mouth dry and his energy drained. And if he stayed any longer she might realize he wasn’t joking about Michael Q. He really did think he was nice—and good looking. Not as good looking as Tobey, but he did have some cute dimples.
“I’m good, thanks,” Lindsey said.
So he excused himself from her side and grabbed a glass of wine and stood in the corner. Maybe he should ask Michael Q. out. Or at least go talk to him and see how he was doing. They had talked about programming and video games before. At the Christmas party last year, they had both pretended to know about sports to fake a conversation about the Super Bowl with a coworker from HR, and then laughed about it afterwards.
But Emmett wasn’t really looking for a coworker boyfriend, a programmer boyfriend, a polo shirt boyfriend. He was looking for Tobey. And Tobey wasn’t there.
A couple of other people asked him about work, about the weather, about a new game coming out for the Nintendo. They toasted to the newly engaged couple. And then Emmett strategically wormed his way around the outside of the crowd, snuck out the front door, and went home.