One Step Away (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 1) (13 page)

*

At a neighborhood pub named Garrity’s
Tavern, which featured a few pool tables, an air hockey table, and
a digital jukebox currently playing “Before He Cheats” by Carrie
Underwood, Marisa sat at the rectangular bar with Lauren, trying to
understand what had happened with Brad the night before. She stared
at some of the Chicago sports memorabilia that hung from the walls:
Bulls and Blackhawks flags, framed photographs of Wrigley Field,
U.S. Cellular Stadium, and Soldier Field, as well as athletes in
action: Derrick Rose dunking a basketball, Paul Konerko raising a
fist as he rounded first base, and Patrick Kane delivering a
vicious slap shot, and dozens of others Chicago athletes both past
and present.

“He wrote that poem,” Marisa said, “and I
thought he’d changed. But when he stopped over at my place, he
expected us to have sex...immediately. He became the person he used
to be; selfish and one-track-minded. It’s like he wasn’t even there
with me. Like the person who wrote that poem…”

She’d always presumed that no matter how
much someone loved you, no matter how much they wanted to change
into the person you needed them to be, they either couldn’t or
wouldn’t make it happen. Then again, she got nauseous rather
quickly, so how could he have known how she felt or what she
needed? He didn’t have any time to ask her. Besides, he wasn’t a
mind-reader.

“Your father must’ve been a baker,” said
someone off to her left, “because baby, you’ve got a nice set of
buns.”

Lauren turned to find a tall man with a
scruffy beard wearing a flannel shirt. She met his smile with an
inquisitive expression. “Really? I’m sitting down. How do you know
what my buns look like?”

His smile vanished. He scratched curly hair
that would have made Shirley Temple jealous. “Huh? I hadn’t thought
of that.”

“How did you get in here? Did they even card
you? You look 19.”

His cheeks reddened. He lowered his gaze and
stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Okay,” Lauren said to the young man. “I’m
in a relationship, so I’m not really rejecting you. So don’t take
it so hard. But I’m curious: has that line worked for you yet?”

Some of the tension in his face drifted
away. “No. But one of these days, I’m sure it will.”

“Here’s a tip: don’t use it again.”

Marisa couldn’t get over how Lauren’s
somewhat dismissive tone reduced this man’s confidence from
enthusiastic and full of possibility to complete humiliation and
self-doubt. Of course, she’d always felt bad when a guy approached
a woman who wasn’t interested. And then it dawned on her…was that
how she made Alexander feel? Heat flared into her face. The notion
made her feel so guilty that she decided she needed to right her
wrong.

Seeing the disappointment in the guy’s eyes,
Marisa sympathized with him. She wanted to help this young man
avoid a similar situation in the future, partly because she could
set him in the right direction. She would have liked to help
Alexander in the same way, but if she’d attempted to do so,
whatever she said would have sounded either patronizing or full of
pity, which would end up doing more harm than good.

“I’m also not available,” Marisa said, “but
I’d like to hear your next line.”

The man turned back to the three friends
sitting at a table at the back of the room, who cheered him on. He
spun back to Marisa. “Your lips look lonely. Would they like to
meet mine?”

Marisa laughed. “Where do you come up with
this stuff?”

“The Internet. I’ve memorized like a dozen.
How about this one: stand still so I can pick you up.”

“But I’m still sitting,” she said,
commiserating with him.

“Oh, yeah. But if you weren’t, would it
work?” Pellets of sweat stood out on his forehead and his hands
rattled.

For whatever reason, Marisa imagined that
Alexander had taken this man’s place. And her heart went out to
him. She reached out and took the man’s hands into her own to calm
him down. “When you see a girl and she smiles at you and looks down
and then looks at you again, she’s interested. If she flips her
hair, she’s interested. If she licks her lips or tilts her head to
the side, she’s interested. All of that can happen from across the
room. So you don’t even have to get too close. But if she gives you
any of those signals, she’s telling you that she wants to meet you.
When that happens, walk right up to her because you have nothing to
lose. But never, ever deliver one of those cheesy lines. Just go up
to her and say hi. Then see what she says.”

The young man gave her a cynical expression.
“That’s too easy. What’s the catch?”

“No smile, no interest. But her smile told
you she wants to meet you. So just say hi. That’s all you need.”
Watching a grin light up his face like he held a winning lottery
ticket, Marisa wished she could have shared that wisdom with all
men. It would make dating so much easier and less
pressure-filled.

She admitted that, during high school and
college, she was naive in thinking that sharing tons of personal
details would encourage men to share a part of their lives with
her, but when she realized that some of them wanted only one thing
from her, she always ended things between them before she felt a
real attachment to them. Since then, over the last seven years,
she’d met only three men who had reached that level of
closeness.

After meeting Russell Lande, a manager of
the department store Carson Pirie Scott, she went on a dozen dates
with him over three months before realizing that she was falling
for him. But after they made love, he left in the middle of the
night and never called her again. She had no idea what persuaded
him to leave. Was she too inexperienced? After seeing her naked,
did he lose all interest in her? Did he only plan on getting her
into bed before leaving? And if so, how come she hadn’t been
suspicious of his intentions?

She visited his department store to find out
what she did wrong, only to discover that he’d never worked there.
It seemed he’d been a customer the day they met and lied about his
profession. Which, of course, led to another round of self-doubt:
if he’d lied about his career, what else had he lied about? And why
had she failed to see through his lies? It took seven months of
second-guessing herself before realizing that she would never have
the answers she needed and that she shouldn’t blame herself for the
squandered relationship.

Then she met Jorn Allen, a Norwegian
television reporter. This time, she spent four months laughing and
enjoying his gentlemanly charm. And then they consummated their
relationship. Unlike Russell, Jorn left in the middle of the act,
calling her a tease because she didn’t live up to whatever image
that he’d built up in his mind. He said that she couldn’t even
compare to his wife, a woman who didn’t even arouse him. While he
gathered his clothes, he spewed hateful words at her, culminating
in calling her an ignorant slut as he slammed the door on his way
out.

Once more, self-doubt circled her mind for
months: she hadn’t seen a wedding band on his finger, so how could
she have known that he’d been married? What signs did she miss? In
the end, she didn’t get the answers she sought. And she didn’t date
anyone for more than a year after that experience.

And then she met Brad, who turned out to
contradict his words in a major way.

Marisa supposed that she fell in love with
the
idea
of love too easily. Part of that stemmed from
enjoying the intensity of a new relationship; getting to know
someone really well, and seeing how things progressed.

The other aspect that probably contributed
to falling for someone too quickly derived from the fact that she
hadn’t done too much dating throughout the years. And that, in
turn, meant a lot of alone time, which obviously lent itself to a
cynical outlook. Therefore, the few times she met someone new, she
couldn’t get over the excitement that overwhelmed her. All of the
waiting and hoping had contributed to her own enthusiasm. Having
experienced so much loneliness between each relationship, she
craved intimacy.

And when it came to romantic endeavors,
Marisa always jumped into the water without first testing the
temperature. Each time, she intended to take it slow, but soon
enough, she threw logic aside and listened to her heart. Of course,
she realized that she trusted too easily, especially with men who
didn’t shower her with compliments about her appearance.

That had always been a tricky issue for her,
because Jaclyn placed so much emphasis on making sure her daughter
looked “presentable” at such a young age. The night before each day
of grade school, Marisa selected an outfit that her mother had to
approve.

The next morning, Jaclyn expected a certain
ratio of bounce to waves in her hair, as well as a tasteful amount
of make-up that drew attention away from her “facial
imperfections:” a nose that looked like someone had “spent days
slamming a frying pan against it” and an angular jawline more “fit
for a boy” than a girl, as though her mother’s genes hadn’t played
any part in her daughter’s appearance. And if Marisa hadn’t
achieved the desired effect in time to catch the bus that morning?
Rather than simply driving her to school, Jaclyn either forced her
to walk to school that day or stay home. And remaining home with
her mother was more punishment than school could ever be.

So when men praised Marisa’s appearance, she
thought of her mother, including all the time Jaclyn had spent
criticizing her and all the effort she forced her daughter to
endure in order make her look “presentable.” Therefore, compliments
robbed the elation that she should have felt and instead made her
self-conscious because she focused on what these men hadn’t
commented on: her imperfections. And when she met men who didn’t
try to flatter her, she wasn’t reminded of those unpleasant
experiences, giving her the added side effect of trusting them more
than she would have trusted someone who had complimented her.

When men seemed to enjoy spending time with
her because they liked her personality, rather than just wanting to
get with her because they found her attractive, Marisa felt her
interest spike, and she rushed into the relationship without much
thought about how her actions might contribute to the success or
failure of the relationship. Which reminded her of the time she’d
spent last night with Brad. Even worse, after having not seen him
for months, she read his poem and suspected that he really
cherished her.

In hindsight, she should have asked him more
about the poem, as well as how and when he’d decided that he truly
cared for her. But she wouldn’t have been satisfied with only a few
details. Because of their propensity as an on-again, off-again
couple, she would have wanted an in-depth analysis: what gave him
clarity when it came to their relationship? Why had he waited until
she called (even though she knew it was a pride-thing – she wanted
to actually hear him admit it)? How often did he think about her?
Had he presumed that she’d been dating someone else?

Her slight buzz last night had stripped away
all of those questions and countless others, leaving her with only
one thought: deep down, he deeply cared her. That was why he kept
coming back. The only problem? Last night, he hadn’t shown her the
true depth of his feelings. He’d treated her no better than Russell
or Jorn had.

Her phone chirped. How fitting: a text
message from Brad:
“I feel so bad about last night. How are you
feeling? Call me when you get a chance.”

Lauren nodded at her. “Alexander?”

Marisa shook her head. Until now, she had
never understood why Alexander never wanted to talk about Brad.
“No. It’s Brad. Apologizing for last night.”

“Let me see the text,” Lauren said,
snatching her phone. She hit Marisa with a sullen look. “He didn’t
actually apologize, did he? He just said that he felt bad about it.
Bad about what? Did he say that he’s thinking about you? That he
cares about you? That he misses you?”

“No, but—”

“But he loves you, right?”

Marisa didn’t want to get into an argument,
which she sensed she was nearing judging by her friend’s harsh
tone.

“Instead of getting excited about what can
be, why don’t you think about what is? People who love each other
actually say the words. Like Alexander did. I don’t buy the whole
‘he doesn’t like expressing feelings’ crap. You need the constant
validation. Fifteen years of friendship tells me so. That’s who you
are, Marisa. And if Brad hasn’t said those words by now, he won’t
in the future. Imagine that you have kids. How is he going to tell
them that he loves them? Grab a red crayon and write it down in his
son’s coloring book?” With that, she scooted away from the table.
“Congratulations on your promotion. You truly deserved it. But
Brad? You deserve better.” Then she left.

This was the first time since Russell and
Jorn had broken her heart that Lauren had gotten angry while
telling her the truth as she saw it. The concern and the intensity
with which Lauren spoke made tears enter Marisa’s eyes.

But she drove those thoughts from her mind
by concentrating on her recent promotion. That should be her number
one priority. Then she recalled that the library staff thought that
she and Alexander had become a couple. It seemed that in spite of
her professional success, no matter what she did, she couldn’t get
a grasp on her personal life.

*

That night, Alexander and Damon went to a
bar called
Sanitarium
. A wide, two-story building erected in
a triangle pattern with a bar on each floor was surrounded by
booths on all sides, the dark interior full of vintage signs from
various beer companies spread across the walls. Other than the
circular lamps hanging from the ceiling, blue and pink neon lights
cut through an otherwise dark ambiance, allowing customers the
opportunity to talk since the top 40 music playing through a decent
sound system didn’t force patrons to raise their voices.