Prologue
Ican’t save Thomas Fleming.
Growing up, my mother managed to get herself involved in every crisis that she heard about. An elderly neighbor needed someone to cook for her? My mother was there, cooking extra portions of her dinners and taking them over to the neighbor every night. A dog escaped from someone’s house? My mother was outside with a flashlight, searching in dark alleys for it. A teenager was having an emotional breakdown in the middle of the A train? My mother missed her stop and stayed with the teenager until the teenager felt better. I was raised to be a saint, but as I look at Tom across the restaurant's table, I know I can’t save him.
He isn't in any immediate danger. He’d likely die from old age or stepping into a manhole while being distracted by his phone, but he is, by all definitions, a man who needs far more than anyone can give him.
His hand remains gripped around his phone as he gestures around the restaurant we're sitting in. "I just don't understand it, Zandra. They think dolphins are cute.Cute,Zandra. They're monsters and they won't listen to me about it."
"The dolphins or the women?" I joke.
He looks at me, bewildered. "What? I didn't see any dolphins today. And they don't speak."
When Tom asked me out nine or ten months ago, I thought he was cute, had a unique way of looking at the world, and he needed someone to understand him. I was correct on all of my assumptions, but in a different way than I thought.
He is cute, but in a way that he looks down on anyone that doesn't spend an hour getting ready.
He has a unique way of looking at the world, but the unique way is coated with condescension and bafflement over normal human behavior.
And he does need someone who understands him, which means that they can't disagree with him or show disinterest in anything he cares about, or he will decide they're worthless.
But he's a good man who works as an EMT and volunteers at shelters. He makes my parents happy because they're insanely worried I'm going to die alone because all of my focus is on my career. And, best of all, I don't need to worry about becoming too attached to him. I don't love him, but there's nothing he could do that would break my heart.
So, I listen to him rant about people's misplaced love of dolphins. I used to think I could help him move past his resentments about society and his anger toward people he considers subordinate to him, but as he's talked tonight, I know it's not possible. It's his flaw that keeps him protected from his own insecurities. There are women who have boyfriends who are much worse, so I can't complain.
"I have to tell you something," I say after he takes a breath. "Do you remember that app, 2Resonance?"
He frowns. "No. Is it a news app?"
"It's actually a music streaming service."
"That's Tunest," he says.
"No, you use Tunest. I use 2Resonance." I stir my straw in my water. The waitress had taken our plates, but she hadn't returned with the bill yet. "They're looking for a graphic designer. I'm going to apply for it, but it might mean that I'd have to move to San Francisco."
His frown deepens. "You want to leave Manhattan?"
I want to leave you.
"I think it will be a good place to start my career," I say. "My best plan of action is to move to San Francisco anyway. It's where all of the big tech companies are and I'll be useful to them."
"I don't think so," he says.
I place my hands back on my lap. "You don't think so?"
"You're more useful here."
"Tom," I say. "I can't just be somebody's girlfriend."
"You won't be. There will be a job here for you at some point." He takes a quick sip of his water. "Let's not talk about it. I haven't even gotten to the crux of the story. Do you know what this pink-haired woman told me? She told me that she also loved koalas. The majority of koalas have chlamydia, Zandra. Who could love that?" He enunciates chlamydia loudly enough that a few people sitting at the table across from us turn toward us.
"He's talking about koala bears," I say quickly to them.
"That's inaccurate," he says. "They're not bears. They're marsupials."
The waitress returns to our table, holding a cupcake that we didn't order. She hands it to Tom.
"Thank you, miss," he says. She gives us both a huge smile before walking away. Tom sets the cupcake down in front of me. In the center of a swirl of white frosting is a diamond ring.
