Chapter Fourteen

Five Years Earlier … Summer Before Junior Year

I was twenty when I fell in love.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t with another human being. After two years of fumbling through a biology major with no clear idea what I wanted to do, I fell in love with a class. It was animal biology.

I’d always been an animal lover. There was no other reason to spend my working hours soaking wet in my sister’s grooming parlor, cooing to terrified dogs and getting clawed for my trouble. Dogs made me smile, sucked away my stress at first sight, and gave me a reason to look forward to the wet work of washing them.

So, in my second semster of my sophomore year of college, on track to graduating in four years, I realized I wanted to be a veterinary tech. All the joy of working with animals without the pesky doctorate in veterinary medicine I didn’t want to get. This epiphany required me to become a voluntary nerd, however. I enrolled at the local technical college and began collecting credits from two schools simultaneously. If I planned carefully, I could still get out in four years, I’d just have to do summer sessions.

Meanwhile, my love life sank to an all-time low. At first I thought it was related to my increased class load and decreased fun time. But, there had to be some kind of bad luck involved. Or karma coming back to bite me in the ass.

First came John, who set the standard for romance in college. He swept me off my feet with amazing plans for our first three dates. We picnicked and went for a long walk, we went to the art museum and drank wine in the middle of the afternoon, we took a tour of the capitol building, and when he wanted to go up to the dome’s observation deck and I had a complete fear-of-heights freak-out, he acquiesced without a second thought. John stood alone in my college dating history as the sole example of classic romance. I thought he was my very own handsome prince come to life.

But after our fifth date, he took a phone call while he was still in my bed. When he glanced at the display, he smiled. Then, he put a finger to my lips as he answered.

“Hey, sweetie, I was just thinking about you,” he said into the phone.

The first trickle of doubt ran down my insides.

“… Not too much. Just hangin’ out with the guys.” He gave me a half-smile, like we were in on a great joke together.… I miss you, too, babe.”

That was the point at which I got out of bed. My hands shook as I grabbed my bathrobe off a hook.

“… Of course I am,” he continued as if I weren’t there. “… Yeah, I know. I wouldn’t miss it.”

If there is such a thing as karma, then John was my punishment for cheating on Alex. Or sort of cheating on him. Either way, I’d clearly done something to earn such a karmic kick in the pants.

My lungs ached with the strain of holding in a sob as I stooped down to gather John’s clothes off the floor. He wasn’t paying attention to me. So, when I carried the load to my window, he didn’t try to stop me. Then, I went back for his shoes.

“Hey! What are you—?” John said when I chucked the first shoe out the window. “Sweetie, I’m gonna have to call you back.” He disconnected his call as I sent the second shoe after its mate. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“You have a girlfriend?” I said. “What the fuck are you doing?” My vision was blurry with tears of rage, unshed.

“She lives in Portland!” he shouted. “Are you insane?”

“Just get out.”

“What is your problem?” he said, sliding to the edge of the bed to look for his clothes on the floor. He didn’t seem to realize I’d defenestrated them.

“Me? You cheating asshole! Get the fuck out of my house!” I pointed at the door.

“Oh, believe me, I’m going.”

“Not fast enough.” I stomped across the room and threw open the bedroom door. “Get out!”

“Where are my clothes?”

“Well, the dumpster’s right below my window, so I’d start looking there.”

“You crazy bitch.” He stood, holding his cell phone in front of his genitals like a tiny shield.

“Go!” I stamped my foot once, blinking hard and fast to stay in control.

“Joss?” The voice came from the bottom of the stairs. Jessie’s voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” My tone had gone nasal and I knew it was a matter of seconds before I started to cry.

“I’m not going down there like this,” John hissed.

“The hell you aren’t.”

“Fuck you!” he said.

“You already did, asshole.” I raised my voice. “Jessie, are you alone?”

“No, Evan’s here.” Jessie’s boyfriend. A hockey player. Perfect.

“You okay, Joss?” Evan called up.

“Can you come up here?” I called back.

John’s face went dark. “You gonna get your friend to beat me up? You get off on that kind of shit?”

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. “I just want you to go.”

Evan’s heavy footsteps thumped up the stairs.

John stared at me with narrowed eyes, his jaw set tight.

“You might want to hurry,” I said. “Someone might be running off with your shoes right now.” It was an idle threat, but not outside the realm of possibility in Madison. College students are not renowned for their lawful behavior and good judgment.

“Crazy bitch,” John mumbled his parting shot and walked past me just as Evan reached the top of the stairs.

“Whoa, sorry, buddy!” Evan said, holding up a hand to block the sight of naked John.

John didn’t say a word, but hurried down the stairs with his phone still held in fig leaf position. Jessie screamed when he came into sight, but didn’t stop him from going out the front door. My angry tears were stunned into a hiatus, and I ran down the stairs in my bathrobe to watch John’s progress through the front window.

“What the hell is going on?” Jessie demanded.

I didn’t answer, pressing my face to the glass until he was out of sight. Then, I ran to the back of the house and climbed gracelessly onto the kitchen counter to look out the window over the sink. That was the ultimate sign of how pissed I was. Normally, I considered even climbing on counters to be too high for my taste. But, with my head at just the right angle I could make out John’s naked form as he circled the building, looking for his clothes on the pavement.

“Joss, what happened?” Evan startled me and I knocked my head into the glass.

“Ouch!” I rubbed my temple. John moved out of my narrow view. “Damn.”

“Joss!” Jessie said loudly.

I turned and eased myself off the counter. “Do I have some kind of sign on my forehead that says, ‘Assholes only’?” I asked.

“Not that I can see,” she said.

“Me either,” Evan agreed.

I shuddered. “I have to go shower. For about nine hours.”

So much for princes and white steeds and all that.

Two days before I put Naked John out into the street, Matt met Shelby, a Southern girl who’d lived in the north for most of her life, but clung to her identity and her accent with a tenacity that reminded me of one of my sister’s clients, a rat terrier named Buster. He used to bare his teeth the entire time I scrubbed his fur. Shelby was like that, except with subtle sniping.

She had real skill in the area. The first time I met her, she said, “Oh my, you pull off red hair better than most people, don’t you?” It took me a moment to determine the intent of her comment, that’s how good she was. I would have taken it personally, but she did it to everyone.

“It’s so refreshing that people around here don’t follow fashion.”

“I just think it’s adorable the way you still hang out with the first people you met in college.”

“My daddy drove a BMW before he got his promotion. It was all right until he got his Mercedes.”

She was pretty, of course. Matt could never pass up a chance with a pretty girl, no matter how vicious her venom. It was his greatest weakness as a male, and one of the top three reasons why I would never date him. She was smart enough to keep most of her honey-coated barbs out of his earshot, which only confirmed that she knew exactly what she was doing.

I liked to call her Miss Alabama.

She lasted three weeks.

That was our first case of mutually needed Sorbet. In later years, we referred to it as the “What the Hell Were We Thinking? Time.”

Then came Ryan, Brian, and Bryan, in that order and so unremarkable, I felt like I was caught in an alternate universe where I went on the same first date nine times.

Next, I decided to put Jessie in charge of finding me some candidates. She was a little smug after finding Evan, but I was reaching burnout stage with my summer classes at the time and I felt like delegating the task was better than giving up entirely. What ensued was a series of blind dates, or uncomfortable double dates between Jessie, Evan, me, and the Guy du Jour.

Note: Blind dates are the work of the devil and no caring friend should ever submit a friend to one, no matter how great she thinks the match would be. There is nothing less romantic than being forced to share time with someone you don’t know. It’s like sitting next to a stranger on an airplane and expecting to fall in love.

Double dates, on the other hand, have the added bonus of making the potential mates play the part of fourth wheel on an alternating basis.

JESSIE: Evan and Tim used to live with this guy named Brooks—tell her about that thing with the fish …

EVAN and TIM laugh and tell a story about the ex-roommate.

JOSS laughs politely.

EVAN: Tim is from North Carolina. Didn’t Jessie say you have some cousins in North Carolina?

JOSS: South Carolina.

EVAN: Oh, right.

JESSIE: [laughs] Oh my God, that reminds me of that Final Four party we went to last year, remember?

JOSS and EVAN: [together] This pizza tastes like pretzels!

JESSIE: Hoo doggie!

JOSS: [laughing] Hoo doggie!

EVAN: [to Tim] You shoulda been there, man.

TIM: Guess so.

I went through three versions of the Tim date and two blind dates before I told Jessie to stop setting me up.

Left to my own devices, I came up with a new plan: try something completely different. My so-called type was obviously not working out. I didn’t really have a physical type; it was more a personality style that I went for. Someone who would do things like plan a romantic picnic, bring me flowers, and yes—get a little jealous. I hated to admit it, even to myself, but I’d always kind of enjoyed that protected feeling that a jealous type gave me. I knew it was stupid and immature—my most jealous boyfriend was unbearable, and my mildly jealous ones had been cheaters themselves. Any Psych 101 student could see they’d been projecting, but that was hardly a consolation. No matter. One thing was clear: romance does not equal trust, caring, and a healthy relationship. So, it seemed to me the next step was to find someone who was none of those things.

Kevin was that guy. There was nothing princely about him, which is exactly why I decided to flirt with him. He was the kind of awkward bookish type that always turned out to be a great guy in teen movies. In reality, they are every bit as nice as the movies indicate, but never actually end up with the dream girl. I wasn’t the dream girl anyway, so I’d always secretly feared I would end up with a guy like that, until Ben asked me out. Saying yes to Kevin’s proposal of meeting at Memorial Union made me feel shallow. Because prior to accepting, I could convince myself I wasn’t interested in him because he was an intellectual snob, or that he rubbed his nose too much. After, when I learned that he was smart, genuine, and interesting to talk to, I had to admit I just wasn’t physically attracted to him.

Still, I was determined to break my own bad habits, so I kept seeing him. And while he did grow on me—he was even nice enough not to invite me to his place on the ninth floor of a new apartment building when he learned about my height phobia—still, I never felt the spark I wanted to feel. Ultimately I broke up with him. I’d like to say that I felt worse about it than he did, but from the look on his face, I guessed that was unlikely.

“You have to stop beating yourself up about Kevin,” Jessie advised me as I entered my second week of guilt. We were lounging on the couch with Popsicles while we waited for the landlord to arrive and unchain the air conditioner. It was nearly July and he’d finally answered my tenth plea to save me from melting to death in my place. “You can’t force chemistry with someone.”

“I just feel like a bitch for dumping this perfectly decent guy. There was nothing wrong with him.”

“But there was also nothing right with him,” she said.

“I swear, dating karma is going to get me for this one. I’m never going on another date because I dumped poor Kevin.”

She gave her orange Popsicle a healthy slurp. “The universe is not out to get you.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Neither can you.”

“Look, it’s not like you left him at the altar. It just wasn’t meant to be. Get over yourself.”

My Popsicle—cherry—was melting fast, and I chased a rivulet of red juice with my tongue as it ran down my wrist. “I still feel bad,” I said.

“What, did you take his virginity or something?” She laughed.

“No. We never even had sex.”

“Then you’re extra-lame for freaking out about this guy. What about Tim and Rob and Carlos?” Three of the guys she’d forced on me in one way or another—at my request, yes, but that was hardly the point. “You didn’t even go out with any of them. Where are the tears for them?”

I narrowed my eyes at her and gave my Popsicle an aggressive suck. The end fell off in my mouth and I got instant brain freeze. “Ah, dammit!” I clapped my palm over my forehead and groaned.

Jessie laughed.

“See? I told you. Karma.” Except that I was talking around the cherry-flavored iceberg in my mouth, so it sounded more like “Suh? I toe yah. Kah-uh.” I worked the chunk around until I could swallow it and repeated, “Karma.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Straighten out your chi already and forget about Kevin.”

“Way to mix your Eastern philosophies there, Jess.”

She waved a hand. “Chi, karma, getting right with Jesus—whatever you want to call it, do it.”

I wanted to call it Sorbet.

Luckily, Matt was a free agent at the time, and conveniently staying in Madison for his job that summer. We called that one The Chi Straightening.

Dating is not a logic problem, but I was slowly compiling a list of constants.

1. Romance does not equal love.

2. Princes are usually spoiled brats.

3. Chemistry is a requirement.

4. Guilt is no reason to stay with anyone.

5. If a minor flaw feels like a deal-breaker early on, it’s only going to get worse.

The Duck Painter taught me the last lesson. His name was Seth, and he painted duck decoys for fun. I thought he was joking when he told me on our first date. I laughed.

It wasn’t a joke.

And Seth, despite being attractive, smart, and willing to watch a chick flick with me, was a non-option as soon as I saw his apartment. Because it was full of duck decoys in various stages of his artistic attentions. One might have been okay. Five would have been pushing it. The fifty-six that he had lined up on every flat surface was too much for me.

I didn’t answer when he called the next day. Or ever again.

Matt, meanwhile, was in the middle of a streak of girls I liked to call The Squad. Four blondes and a brunette. They were a peppy collection: one former gymnast, two former cheerleaders, a show choir girl, and the one who wanted to audition for American Idol. To be fair, they were nicer than a lot of Matt’s previous girlfriends. A couple of them practically sweated good cheer. Good matches for the always amiable Matt, I supposed, although his laissez-faire brand of nice was a far cry from the pep squad.

They were all younger than us. The last, a blonde named Kelly, was the youngest at eighteen. Her lack of a fake ID was only tolerable because it was summer, and they could spend time at the Memorial Union Terrace. Although a lot of the student population left for the summer, enough people had crappy leases that didn’t end until mid-August that I could always count on having a few friends around for the summer. And Matt was always one of them, so I ended up spending a lot of time with Kelly. Enough that one evening, while Matt was winding his way through the crowd with a pair of beers, Kelly turned to me and blurted out a confession.

“I’m a virgin. Do you think that’s a problem?”

After gagging on my own saliva, I managed to squeak out, “What do you mean by ‘problem’?”

“Well, Matt’s not.” She looked at me with palpable hope. “Is he?”

My lips quivered as I fought hard against the impulse to laugh. “Um, no. Not exactly.”

Across the wide outdoor terrace, Matt had stopped to talk to someone. There would be no rescue from this conversation.

“So, do you think that would bother him?”

There were two possible paths she meant to take. I bought myself a moment of thought by taking a sip of my drink and looking at Matt from a distance. He was only a year older than her but he might as well have been forty for the gap in their innocence.

“Are you waiting? For—marriage?” I asked.

“No.” Kelly shrugged. “Just the right guy.”

I went noncommittal. “Mmm.”

“Don’t tell him, okay?” she said. “If I think he’s the right guy, I don’t want him to get all weird about it.”

“Sure,” I said, affirming her last sentence, and letting her believe I meant her question instead. Underhanded? Yes, but I wasn’t going to honor a request like that.

I snagged Matt away from her as soon as I could. “You cannot sleep with this girl.”

“Why not?”

“She’s a virgin.”

His eyes lit up beneath the brim of his hat. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. She doesn’t want you to know. She thinks you might be The One.”

He glanced over his shoulder in the direction she’d gone to find a bathroom. “Really?”

“Matt!” I pinched his forearm. “You cannot do this.”

“Why not?”

My mouth fell open. “Are you kidding me? You are not The One.”

“I could be.” He smirked, and I knew he was just playing with me at that point. “Sooner or later it comes down to fate …”

“Don’t you dare quote Billy Joel to me.” I popped him in the shoulder with the heel of my hand. “You are not The One.”

“Why?”

I cocked my head. “Are you planning to marry this girl?”

“No,” he said with no hesitation.

“Then don’t ruin her first time by being the guy who dumped her.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” he said. “Why do girls always make it such a big deal? You didn’t seriously think you were going to marry Ben, did you?”

“Kind of.” Completely, but I wasn’t going to admit that to him.

His eyebrows drew together over a half smile. “Oh, come on, you’re cooler than that, Joss.”

“Just don’t do it, okay? Don’t ruin it—she’s too sweet.”

“Sweet?”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “Like Bambi. Like a kicked puppy.”

He sucked air through his teeth and groaned. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking me to give up?” This was Razzie-worthy martyrdom.

“If it’s not supposed to be a big deal to her, why is it a big deal for you to pass on it?” I arched my eyebrows at him.

“Come on, who doesn’t want to be someone’s first? It’s like being the first person to walk in new snow.”

“Don’t be gross.”

He laughed. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Matt, I am serious!”

“About me being gross?”

I caught sight of Kelly making her way back to us over his shoulder. “She’s coming.”

“Ah, I don’t know about this, Joss. How often do you have someone offer you their virginity on a silver platter?”

“God, do I even know you?”

“What if she begs?”

“That ugly-ass hat is infecting your brain. You’ve become disgusting! I should take it off your head and throw it in the lake.” I took a swipe at his head in a fake attempt to grab his hat, but he ducked away, laughing.

He clamped one hand over his hat. “I’m just messing with you—come on, you know me better than that. And leave my hat out of it.”

Kelly was about twenty feet away now.

“Tell me you’re not going to deflower that poor girl, Matt, or I’ll never forgive you.”

“Deflower?” he repeated as if the word had a sour taste.

I nodded, eyes fixed on Kelly.

He twisted to look at her—a petite, fresh-scrubbed, blond, country girl—then back to me with disappointed puppy eyes. “You know my conscience would have been sufficient. You’re just beating a dead horse.”

I made another move for the hat, but he dodged me again. “Very big of you not to be scummy.”

“Don’t push your luck, Alvin.” He’d taken to calling me Alvin after I’d made the mistake of comparing myself to a chipmunk.

“I’ll tell her about us,” I threatened with arched brows.

“That’s just low.”

“What is?” Kelly asked, arriving at the table.

“Nothing,” Matt said, accepting her kiss on his cheek. “I was just reminding Joss that she owes me a favor.”

“As soon as you finish your part, Matty.” I darted my eyes to Kelly for a second.

He glared at me. “I got it.”

Kelly looked confused, but after a moment she faked a yawn. “I’m getting tired! You wanna walk me home?” Her eyes glistened in the light of the nearby lamppost. She was excited and nervous. She’d made up her mind.

“Sure,” Matt said.

I kicked him under the table as he stood.

“Hope you don’t mind, Joss. It was cool to hang out with you tonight.” Kelly smiled at me.

“No problem. Have a good night.”

She bounced on her toes as Matt paused to take a final swig from his cup. “I’ll talk to you soon, Joss. You owe me.”

“You know I’m good for it.”

He grinned. “Always.”

He called the next day. We named that one The Payback.