On the Rocks (8 page)

“My law firm downsized, and I found myself unemployed. Little-known fact: New York is a very expensive place to live if you don’t have an income.”

I laughed, just a little. “Good to know.”

“Anyway, that was back in January, and I realized that if I had to start looking for a new job, it was time to leave New York. I grew up in Providence and decided to move back to New England. I’ve been coming to Newport since I was a kid. My parents have owned their house here forever, so it worked out okay for me. I don’t have a job, but I also don’t have to pay rent, and I get to relax here for the summer.”

“So you’re living with your parents?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Except I think you just did.”

“I said I’m living in my parents’ house. They retired and moved to Florida. They kept the cottage here for when they come back, but they spend most of their time playing golf and eating oranges down south.”

“Ahh, I see.”

“Yes, but thank you for pointing out that I probably shouldn’t lead with that in conversation. Being thirty-three, unemployed, and living with my parents probably isn’t what the babes are looking for in a guy,” he mused.

“Probably not, no.”

“So what are you looking for, kindergarten teacher? A guy who clears five feet and doesn’t sleep with a night-light?”

Before I could respond, a tall blond guy who I had spotted working the crowd earlier for what I assumed was the goal of finding the drunkest girl to separate from the herd, take home, and ultimately destroy, accidentally bumped my arm, causing my beer to slosh all over my wrist.

“Hey, sorry about that,” he said.

“Not a problem,” I replied. And it wasn’t. My watch was waterproof.

“Why don’t you let me buy you another one?” He leaned over the bar and waved his arm in the air trying to get the bartender’s attention. The bartender was busy with other people and was able to ignore him. I didn’t have anywhere near as convenient a reason to ignore him.

“I’m fine. Really, I don’t need another beer.” I felt the small chink that Bobby had put in my armor start to heal.

“Okay. What do you need?” he asked, flashing a smile that he probably practiced in the bathroom mirror.

“A stun gun apparently.” And just like that, it was back.

“Huh?” he said, taken aback by my attitude. Little did he know, he hadn’t seen anything yet, but he was about to.

“Look, buddy, I’m not interested, okay? I don’t want you to buy me another beer, I don’t want you to ask me if I come here often, I don’t want you to talk to me at all, so do us both a favor and find someone drunk enough to want to talk to you, because you struck out over here.”

“What the hell is your problem?” he asked, understandably surprised at being attacked.

“She’s off her meds, sorry about that,” Bobby interjected, in what I assumed was an attempt to defend me.

Blond guy walked away, and Bobby stood staring at me with that same goofy grin on his face that I was beginning to think was some kind of genetic mutation. “What?” I asked. “I told you that I’m a little guarded. I didn’t feel like making small talk with that guy.”

“You know what’s interesting? I’m kind of offended that that guy had no problem hitting on you in front of me. I mean, how did he know I wasn’t hitting on you?”

“Maybe because I wasn’t twirling my hair around my finger or suggestively sucking on a straw or something. Isn’t that what girls do when they flirt?”

“Not past the age of sixteen typically, no.”

“Good to know.” I had so much to relearn. Or maybe learn for the first time. I decided to go home and order as many romantic comedies from Netflix as I could.

“That guy completely broke the guy code. You don’t do that. I don’t think you had to destroy the poor guy, but still, he was out of line.”

“I’m sorry, ‘the guy code’? Someone invented a code for you? I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Yes, honor among gentlemen. You don’t go after another guy’s girl.”

“What is that, some kind of territorial thing? Why don’t you just pee on me and get it over with?”

“Nah, not my thing. Hey wait, is that what the other guy did to make you so mad? I know some dudes are into it, it’s really not all that strange. Have you looked on the Web? There’s all sorts of stuff on there that . . .”

“What happened to you respecting my privacy?” I asked.

“I did. For the first ten minutes of our getting to know each other. Will you tell me now?”

“Good-bye, Bobby.” I wove through the crowd and grabbed Grace’s arm as she chatted with Wolf. “I’m going to head home,” I said loudly so she could hear me over the crowd. I chugged my beer and handed her my empty cup.

“What? Why? Aren’t you having fun?” she asked.

“I am, I just . . . I don’t know. I’m a little overwhelmed. I need to break myself in slowly, and I think I’ve had enough for one afternoon. Am I too old to develop social anxiety problems?”

“I don’t think you have social anxiety. You just need to go slowly, that’s all. You haven’t been out in a while. I totally get it.”

“Are you sure you won’t mind?” I asked, fidgeting with my watch as if I had somewhere to be.

“Not at all. I’m happy you’re here, and you came out, and you met the guys. That’s all I asked for. Do you want me to come home with you?”

“No. You stay. I’ll be fine. Thanks again for forcing me to do this.”

“ ‘Force’ is a nasty word. ‘Encouraged.’ ”

“Strongly encouraged.”

“Just don’t email Ben, okay?”

“I won’t,” I replied. I wasn’t entirely sure I believed me, but I wanted to.

“Good girl. Go relax, I’ll see you in a bit.”

I hugged her and waved good-bye to Wolf as I headed for the exit. I had just hit the sidewalk when I heard someone call from behind me. It was Bobby, trotting down the road, his awkward gait revealing that one thing Bobby was not was an athlete.

“Hey, Abby,” he called. “Why don’t you stick around?” He gestured over his shoulder back at the bar.

“I have to get home.” It was only a partial lie.

“No, you don’t,” he challenged.

“How do you know that?” I was never a good liar.

“Because unless you have some sort of emergency unpacking problem, you don’t need to be in an empty house right now. I think you’re avoiding me,” he teased. He crossed his arms across his chest and smiled at me. Bobby was charming in a strange way. In the way that made me want to keep talking to him, but to not really be nice when I did. I’m pretty sure that’s not how you go about getting guys to like you as a friend or anything else, but it was the only way I knew how to be.

“Why would I avoid you? I don’t even know you,” I replied with a shrug.

“Oh, so you want to come back to the bar and talk to me? I’ll tell you all about myself.”

“Maybe next time. I’m just a little tired.”

“I’m starting to get the feeling that you don’t like me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then you do like me.”

“I didn’t say that either.”

“Can I buy you a beer?”

“No thanks.”

“Please?”

“Well, in that case . . . no.”

“Okay, suit yourself. I’m just trying to be friendly here and make you feel at home since you don’t know anyone, but if you’d rather be alone, that’s fine. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” He shrugged, finally giving up on breaking me down. Little did he know that someone had beaten him to the punch a long time ago.

“What makes you say that?” I asked before he walked away.

“What?”

“That you’ll see me around?”

“I live down the block for starters,” he said.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. Look, I really just want to relax for a little. It was nice to meet you. I’ll see you later,” I said as I waved him off.

“As you wish,” he said as he turned and headed back to the bar, leaving me on the sidewalk.

When I got to the house, I walked in, went into my bedroom, removed my laptop from its case, and set it gently on the bed in front of me. I turned it on and opened my Gmail account, waiting to see if the little dot next to Ben’s name turned green to let me know he was logged in. When it did, I opened a chat box and stared at it for a full five minutes, knowing that I shouldn’t write him, but I couldn’t stop myself. We had been together for ten years, and had been friends for a year before we started dating. I could no more keep myself from writing him than I could keep myself from swallowing. It was like muscle memory, and that, like my other memories, would take time to fade. My hands started typing before my brain knew what they were doing. I didn’t want to be his friend, but I didn’t want him to be out of my life either. I didn’t know what I wanted. And that was the problem.

I typed slowly.

Hi. Just got back from the bars. How are things going out there?

Hey yourself. Going okay, had a busy day and just relaxing now with a beer. How was the bar scene?

Crowded. Met some of Grace’s friends.

Preppy guys?

Yes.

Not happy to hear that. You always liked the preppy guys. One in particular.

Once upon a time, yes.

Be patient with me Abby. I’m working things out.

What does that mean?

Sorry, got to run, I’m taking a friend to the movies.

What? I stared at the conversation, brief as it was, and could swear that Ben was telling me that he wanted me to wait for him, that he didn’t want me seeing other guys, and that he was taking another girl to the movies. I read and reread and read the conversation again to see if I’d missed something, but there was nothing there to miss. The dot next to his name turned gray when he signed off. I threw myself back on the bed and buried my head in the pillows. It was unreal how quickly one person could make me feel so inadequate. I closed my laptop, not only because I couldn’t stand the mental torment for another minute, but because I was exhausted. What was I doing? I was not this person. At least, I didn’t want to be this person anymore. It was time to make some changes.

Chapter 6

This Is Like Zagat’s—No One Gets a Perfect Score

I
WOKE UP
early Saturday morning and went for a run to better learn the area and try to get the summer started on a healthy note. As much as I needed Newport to be a reboot for my mental health, I needed it to kick-start my physical health as well, and I figured the best way to fix both was to get set in some kind of exercise routine. I ran in a small circle from the house up toward Cliff Walk and back through town, slowing down to catch my breath by pretending to window-shop at the stores along Thames Street. Dark storm clouds began to roll in when I was a few blocks from home, and I turned onto Grafton Street two minutes before the skies opened up in a vicious summer storm. I hopped in the shower, and when I changed and went back into the den, I found Bobby, Wolf, and Grace seated in a circle on the floor around the coffee table. Apparently, they had come up with a way to spend the morning that didn’t involve being outside—Scrabble and Bloody Marys.

Made perfect sense to me.

An hour later, the four of us were still sitting around our Scrabble board on the floor in our tiny living room with beer and a bowl of Tostitos while the summer storm continued to pound the windows so hard I was afraid they would shatter. Otis Redding played off the speaker dock, and I had to admit, I was enjoying getting to know my new friends and I was having a good time, if for no other reason than playing Scrabble with someone whose first language wasn’t English was almost reality-show material.

We waited for Wolf to place his letters on the board, and when he did, he spelled out BMW.

“BMW is not a word, it’s an abbreviation for British Motor Works,” Grace said.

“It’s a German company,” Wolf countered. “Don’t tell me it’s British, silly American girl. The B stands for Bavarian. Like me!”

“Even if that’s true, you can’t use abbreviations,” I said. “No one gave you a hard time when you played U-BOAT last round, and don’t even get me started on you using the word STRUDEL. You should be using this game to help develop your English skills, not to insert German words all over the board.”

“These are words. The little book with the definitions says so. And BMW is
not
British. You’re all wrong.” So we checked.

Damn it. He was right on both counts.

The argument had momentarily distracted me from what I’d been thinking while running earlier. I hesitated to bring it up, if for no other reason than I didn’t know the boys that well and didn’t want them to think I was crazy. Then I realized that if we were going to be hanging out all summer, they’d find out sooner or later anyway, and it was probably better to let them know who they were dealing with. Besides, those earlier thoughts were ruining my Scrabble concentration, and I had just lost the chance to play the word QUICHE for thirty-seven points.

“I was thinking while I was running this morning.”

“About?” Grace asked.

“Ben. Or I should say, how to get over him for good,” I admitted, without bothering to look up at the skeptical expression that I knew was on Grace’s face.

“The guy’s name is Ben. Got it,” Bobby said. “I knew it was a guy!”

“Fine. There was a guy, and yes, his name is Ben, and our breakup was, what would I call it . . .”

“Horrifying?” Grace offered.

“I was going to say messy, but sure, let’s say horrifying and leave it at that. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about what I need to do in order to get back out there and let people know that I’m available.”

“If you’re trying to come across as available, then yeah, you probably need to revamp your strategy,” Bobby said.

“Why do you say that?”

“For starters, the guy at the bar yesterday was hitting on you and you didn’t give him the time of day,” Bobby said.