November Surprise (4 page)

“Yeah, me too.” He hangs in the doorway, clearly
unembarrassed by what he just walked in on.

Jack clenches his jaw. “Did you want something?”

Monty looks back at him. “Yeah. Have you seen my car keys? I
can’t find them anywhere.”

Jack throws his arms up in annoyance. “They’re not in here.”

“Okay.” Monty looks like he’s fighting laughter. “Do you
mind if I search a little…”

“Get out, Monty!”

Now he’s laughing outright. “Okay, okay. Relax. I guess I’ll
just wait for a ride.”

“Yeah, you do that.”

Monty leaves and closes the door behind him. Jack shakes his
head. “Sorry about that. He can be so rude.”

Last spring, when I met Jack, I was unaware that he was
Monty’s younger brother. I think that was part of my appeal, because Jack has
been living in Monty’s shadow all his life. In turn, with Jack I found someone
who saw me as something other than this shy, unconfident girl who was
traumatized by the whole Reggie incident. Jack and I started dating last
summer, and it was great until I left for college. Jack is a year younger than
me, and still in high school. It’s become difficult to carry on a long-distance
relationship when we’re living in different worlds.

Jack moves closer to me, but I hold my hands up to stop him.

“Jack,” I say. “I’ve been thinking. Wouldn’t it be better if
we were just friends?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Better, how?”

I pick up a softball that’s lying on the floor, and toss it
from hand to hand. “You know. We’ll still talk on the phone and stuff, just
like we have been all fall, but we won’t be dating anymore. That way we’ll both
be free, you know, to date other people…”

Jack’s head drops and he stares into his hands. “You’re
breaking up with me.”

I put the ball down and scratch my head. “I guess you could
call it that.”

He releases a despondent sigh. “God. Why didn’t I see this
coming?”

“Jack…”

“No, I get it Lucy. You’re in college now. You want to date
college guys, right?”

I bite my lip and consider my answer. He’s not wrong, but
the truth is more complicated than that. “Your friendship is so important to
me. Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t in my life. And if we
keep dating, eventually we’ll just be each other’s exes. I don’t want that. I
want to still be friends with you when I’m fifty.”

Jack shakes off what I just said, stands up, and turns off
his stereo. He sits down on his twin bed and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Yeah, sure. Let’s talk about it more later, okay?”

“You’re mad, aren’t you?”

He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated way. “Yes. Of course I’m
mad. You just broke up with me. I think I have the right to be mad.”

I get up and sit next to him on his bed, but he scoots away.
“Jack, come on.”

“I mean it, Lucy. You should go. I don’t want to talk to you
right now.”

He’s staring at the wall with his
Star Wars
poster on it. He told me before that the poster has been
up ever since he was seven, and he just never bothered to take it down.

Whatever. He’s refusing to look at me right now.

“Okay,” I say, in defeat. “So you’ll call me later?”

He nods. I walk out of his room, filled with regret. Did I
just do a terrible thing?

I’ve fished my car keys out of my bag, and I’ve walked
outside when I’m confronted with Monty, who is sitting on his front step. We’re
barely more than acquaintances, so I don’t feel the need to strike up a conversation.
But Monty will strike up a conversation with anyone.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks.

I run my hand through my hair. It’s already messy. “Yeah. I
have to go.”

He straightens himself up. “Could you give me a ride?”

“Where are you going?”

“Just to the mall.”

Inwardly I groan. If I could think up an excuse quickly
enough for why I can’t drive him, I would. As it is, I just gesture towards my
car and say, “Get in.”

Once we’re on the road Monty gives me a sideways glance.
“Are you okay?”

I stare out ahead. “Fine,” I answer back.

Monty continues to look right at me, and his gaze is
intense. I’m starting to feel a little uncomfortable by it, but then he speaks
up. “You just broke up with Jack, didn’t you?”

I momentarily take my eyes off the road to look at him. “How
did you know?”

Monty relaxes into his seat and looks out the passenger
window. “Just a feeling.”

I sniff back tears, but it does no good. Now I’m swatting
one off my cheek, and the more I try not to cry, the harder it becomes.

Monty reaches into the pockets of his jeans, and his hand
comes out with a crumpled Kleenex.

“Here,” he says as he offers it to me. “Barely used.”

I accept the Kleenex and wipe my face.

“You know,” Monty says. “Usually it’s the dumpee who cries,
not the dumper.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know. This is my first breakup.”

Monty nods his head in sympathy. “They get easier.”

“I’m really worried we won’t be friends any more.”

“Don’t worry,” he says flippantly. “He’ll come around. I’ll
talk to him for you.”

I keep one eye on the road, but the other eye looks at him
with suspicion. “What are you going to say?”

He rolls his gaze toward the ceiling in contemplation. “That
you want him to stick around, and not be some stupid romantic relationship that
doesn’t last. You’d rather keep things platonic so he’ll be in your life,
long-term.

I grip the steering wheel in disbelief and clench my jaw.
“You were listening in on our conversation!”

“What? No!” His face is serious. “I was outside, I swear.”

“You were outside? Why? Were you hoping that somebody would
magically come along and offer to drive you to the mall?"

He raises his hands in bewilderment. “Maybe. Somebody did
come along, after all.”

“But I didn’t offer.”

“True.” He taps his fingers against his leg and looks out
the window. “But I knew Bryan Davenport was meeting everyone at the mall, and
he lives down the street. I thought he might drive by, and I’d flag him down.
But you happened along first, so here we are.”

I squint sideways towards him, communicating my skepticism.

He laughs. “Come on. You think I stood outside Jack’s room,
listened in, and then quickly tiptoed downstairs and outside as soon it sounded
like you were coming? How pathetic would that be?”

“Okay. So, then how did you know?”

If he’s feeling defensive for being accused, he doesn’t let
on. Casually he says, “I just figured it out. It would make sense. Lucy,
honestly, I wasn’t listening in.”

I pull up to the mall, but I don’t relax my grip on the
steering wheel. “Okay. I guess I believe you.”

“Really?” He presses his lips together, and they’re sort of
turning up in a smile.

I peer at his face, searching for signs of sincerity. But
all I can see is that Monty’s hair is longer than it used to be, especially in
the back. And he now has an earring.

He flinches under my gaze. “What?”

“When did you get an earring?”

He fingers it self-consciously. “September.” He grins in
modesty. “I did it to impress a girl. Now the girl is gone, and this stupid
thing keeps getting infected.” He tugs on it. “I’ll probably just take it out.
Lesson learned, Lucy. Never compromise yourself for a relationship.”

I nod my head solemnly, trying to match his mood. Does he
think he’s being profound?

“So, anyway,” Monty says. “You believe me, right?”

I consider his question silently. I’ll probably never know
if he’s actually telling the truth about eavesdropping, but I may as well give
him the benefit of the doubt. “I suppose it’s possible you could figure out
what I said on your own. Jack always says you’re a genius. Aren’t you finishing
college in three years?”

He looks down in modesty. “Only because tuition is
expensive, and I need to pay for law school, too.”

For a moment neither of us speaks.

“Well,” he says, “thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for saying that you’ll talk to Jack.”

He smiles at me. “Don’t worry about it. And I won’t say
anything bad.” He releases his seat belt and with a tentative hand, gives me a
clumsy pat on the arm. “Seriously, don’t worry. Jack will call you in a day or
two.”

At that he gets out of the car, waves goodbye, and
disappears into the mall.

Two days later, Jack calls me.

“Of course we can still be friends,” he says. And he
actually means it.

The receiver is pressed to my ear, and my arm is tired from
holding the phone for so long. Jack continues to talk.

“So you think I should grovel? Or would that make me seem
weak? I really don’t know which way to go, here.”

Jack has just had another fight with his girlfriend, Petra.
Rarely does a week go by when he doesn’t call me, asking for the female perspective
on whatever issue they’re having. I just hope all the makeup sex makes it worth
it for both of them.

“I think you should sit tight for a while,” I say. “Let her
call you this time.”

“Really?”

My shoulder is beginning to cramp and I’ve run out of advice.
It’s not like I’m an expert on relationships, anyway.

“I don’t know, Jack. Maybe you should ask someone else. What
about Monty?”

Jack scoffs. “Please. He’s terrible at advice. Life is too
easy for him. He has no idea what it’s like to actually have a problem.”

“I doubt that’s true.”

“He’d tell me to dump her and move on, that there’s always
another girl out there. And for him, maybe that’s true. But I live in the real
world, inhabited by flawed people.”

I rub my temple. My head is beginning to hurt. “Well, then
maybe you should call her.”

Now that I have given Jack permission to do what he
obviously wanted to do all along, our conversation winds down pretty quickly,
and we say goodbye. It’s a relief, because I have a lot to do today.

But before I do anything, I stand, stretch, and think about
what Jack said.

I, no doubt, also inhabit the real world of flawed people.
And actually, I wouldn’t have it any other way. There are a lot more of us who
are flawed than who are perfect, and I know this now through life experience.
Because in the spring of 1992 I found the flawed man I had been waiting for
– twice.

The first man came in the form of Bill Clinton. He seemed
perfect at first; how I could I
not
fall in love with his southern charm? Besides, underneath he had a good mind full
of ideas on how to bring our country back after the Reagan years by focusing on
education and opportunities for the little guy.

Then he lied about smoking pot, and was accused of cheating
on Hillary
and
of dodging the draft.

At around the same time, I found another guy who also seemed
perfect in a flawed sort of way. I met Bryce at a party around the end of my
junior year at the University of Minnesota. I was standing in a small group,
drinking beer and debating over whether or not Clinton had actually inhaled.
One guy wasn’t saying much and I was trying not to stare. His big brown
puppy-dog eyes were the type that could look right through you, and I knew I
would have remembered him, had I ever seen him before. I thought this party was
going to be the standard-issue poly-sci-major get-together, filled with the
same idealistic yet driven guys I either already sort-of dated, or had been
rejected by, or had rejected myself.

The third or fourth time I glanced in Bryce’s direction he
caught my eye and smiled. We moved away from the group, and introduced
ourselves.

“How come I’ve never seen you before?” I asked.

“I’m only here because I live here,” he said. “Adrian and me
are roommates.”

“Oh, sure.” I nodded my head. “Adrian and I are in the same
public policy seminar together.”

“Yeah. That sounds fascinating.” His deep brown eyes were
hypnotic, and I wondered if I ought to be looking at him indirectly, like
through a mirror or something, the same way I’d view an eclipse.

“Really?”

“No.”

I laughed because his bluntness was such a contrast to the
loophole-filled conversations I’d become accustomed to, and we talked all
evening about music (his major), post-college plans, and a bouquet of other
topics, which were distinctive only because they bore no relation at all to
politics. All the while his puppy dog eyes entranced me.

So when he called several days later, I had to pretend not
to be so enthusiastic at the prospect of a date. I didn’t want my excitement to
scare him away. I played it cool, and our first date led to many others. We
went to movies, concerts, and coffee houses, and talked about simple subjects.
He quizzed me on music, and I inevitably failed since my knowledge of The Cure,
R.E.M., Nirvana, and Nine Inch Nails was hopeless, and honestly, I didn’t
really care about grunge bands or how the alternative movement actually wasn’t
alternative because it was becoming so main-stream.

I told myself that my connection with Bryce was profound,
and that our lack of similar interests was irrelevant because when we were
together, the world felt lighter and I liked myself more. But sometimes, in my
darker moments, I asked myself if I’d feel this way if Bryce had normal-person
eyes.

Then summer came.

Clinton secured the nomination, and Democrats agreed that no
matter how flawed he might be, we needed to embrace our candidate. And somehow,
it became easier and easier to forgive him for his transgressions, because when
he spoke, you wanted to stand up and cheer. Contrast that to Bush, who said we
were enjoying sluggish times but not enjoying them, and was surprised when he
went to a supermarket to find that they now had product scanners. His fumbles
made Clinton look like the kind of guy you want to take home to your parents,
and I started to fall in love all over again.