That is such a loaded question. Why is no one coming to dinner at my parents’ house on a random Monday night? Because I didn’t invite anyone. Why didn’t I invite anyone? Because I’m crushing on Elaine. Why didn’t I invite Elaine? Because I’m a chickenshit.
“You’re a very handsome boy. And so smart.” My mother looks affronted at the very suggestion that someone—man or woman—would even think of denying me a date. “How could anyone turn you down?”
What I want is to ignore her question and slink back out the door and into my car. I could text the guys, and we could be at a bar in less than thirty minutes. But, she’s my mom, and she asked a question. And Sandra Walker isn’t easily distracted when there’s an answer she wants. She’s tenacious, my mother.
I take a long sip of my iced tea before I respond. “She didn’t turn me down, Mom. I never asked.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” my nan asks with her trademark impatience.
“Yeah, what are you waiting for?” Nick, my best friend and former college roommate, strolls out onto the deck, a bag of chips in hand.
“What the hell are you doing here?” It’s as though I conjured him just by thinking his name. I’d spare a glance for Duncan and Bets, but they’re at some awards dinner for his school. And I’m pretty sure Gavin is scaling a mountain in the wilds of Colorado right now.
“When I asked what you were up to, you said you were going to your parents’ place for a cookout. And I thought, I could go for a burger, so here I am. And, no disrespect, Mr. and Mrs. Walker, but you really shouldn’t leave your front door unlocked. Anyone could walk right through the house. I flipped the lock on my way in.” He tears open the bag of chips and starts to munch on them.
“Oh, Nicky, you’re so dear. Of course, you’ll stay for dinner. Tom just lit the grill. What can I get you to drink? Water? Iced tea? Coke?”
“Iced tea would be perfect, Mrs. Walker.”
“Nicky, I’ve known you for nearly ten years. For goodness’ sake, call me Sandy.”
My mom heads in to get Nick’s drink, and I’m thankful for the reprieve; though, I know this conversation is far from over.
Nick’s a big guy, and his frame swallows up the wicker chair he’s sitting in. In deference to the warm temperatures, he’s left his leather jacket behind. He’s covered in ink, but that’s no surprise, given his trade. Propping his feet on a nearby chair, he turns to me and asks, “So, Simon, what are you waiting for? And, incidentally, what are we talking about?”
I guess that’s a no on the reprieve.
Before I can respond, my dad drags a chair over and joins the conversation. “Grill’s hot, burgers are on. How you doin’, Nick? How are things at the shop?”
“Good. Busy. Contrary to my folks’ beliefs, there are a lot of people in the bay area who will pay good money to permanently imprint their skin with words and pictures.”
“Words and pictures, huh? You’re a hell of an artist, kid. And don’t let anybody tell you any different.” My dad aims a glance at Nana, who’s fallen asleep. “I’ll go grab her a blanket. Don’t say anything good until your mother comes back. She’ll give me hell for not sticking around to eavesdrop.”
As if on cue, my mom comes out with drinks and snacks. “So, why haven’t you asked this woman out yet?” Tenacious, I’m telling you.
Nick barks out a laugh because he’s finally been clued in to my harassment, and he and Dunc have posed the same question to me over the past few months. It’s not like I talk about her all the time or anything. I’m not some weirdo. But I guess I mentioned Elaine from work enough that it caught their attention.
“It’s not that easy, Ma.”
“It’s exactly that easy.” So says Nick, but he looks like the edgy, tatted member of a rock band, so we can’t rely on his opinion. And I tell him as much. “Not all of us have women strip half naked and solicit our phone numbers daily, Fuller.”
“I should hope not, Simon. You work in an office,” My mother chides.
“Your mother makes a valid point,” Nick acknowledges. “But to be fair, I ask out many women who are fully clothed, too. It generally starts with something as sophisticated as, “Hey, do you want to get some coffee?” or “I’d love to take you to dinner.” And it generally ends with “yes.”
He’s omitting the fact that the “yes” is typically screamed, and the screamer is typically naked in his bed at the time of said screaming. But my mom is sitting right here, so I won’t bother to point out his omissions.
As if he can see the thoughts in my head, Nick looks at me and smirks.
“Nick’s right, honey. You just have to ask her. If she says no, you move on. But if she does say no, there’s clearly something wrong with her. I’m sure there are a hundred girls who’d love the chance to go on a date with you.”
With that decisive statement, my mother navigates to other topics, and, soon enough, my dad yells that dinner is ready. We all sit down to eat, and I silently resolve to work up the nerve to ask Elaine out. Nick’s right. It can’t be that hard.
IT SHOULDN’T BE THIShard, I think to myself, as the building alarm blares in the background, muffled slightly by the tinny sound of Daryl’s voice calling, “This is not an emergency. I repeat: this is not an emergency.”
Things have gone to shit in the last three minutes.
Three minutes ago, I walked in to Elaine’s office to ask her out, as I’d vowed to do. She smiled when she saw me, and I took that as a good sign. I asked how her day was, and she asked about mine. Politeness hung heavily in the air, and as I opened my mouth to say, “So, would you like to go get some coffee?” the alarm began to ring.
