I skim the most recent match that graces my screen.
Glen.
An accountant with a pet guinea pig and a weird collection of Russian nesting dolls. I assumed it was a photo of his grandmother’s house, but he was eager to confirm that they are, indeed, his dolls. Vintage. Timeless. Dolls. With orange-painted hair and thick triangle-shaped eyebrows.
“Did I tell you about the first time Benny kissed me?” Ellie swoons dramatically as she remembers her first kiss with my cousin.
“Ugh, yes, Eleanor. You’ve told me many a time how perfect, and wonderful, and majestic it was,” I say, a damsel-like, high-pitched emphasis to my words, “giving you these feelings you didn’t even realize you could feel.” I flutter my lashes and fake faint, just for her benefit. She’s unamused, with her lips pursed, as she gives me an I-hate-you-sometimes face.
“Anyway…” She sits up straighter as Frankie, the disgusting naked cat my cousin loves with every fiber of his being, readjusts in her arms to present me with a rather unwelcome display of her wrinkly, bare backside. “That kiss was impossible to forget too. And it’s hard to imagine having that with anyone else. Just think about this Glen guy.” She waves at my phone dismissively. “How would he feel if he went to kiss you, and you’re over there thinking about kissing Malcolm?”
She has a point.
But I can’t worry about it. It was one kiss, and half of the participants were disoriented and a tad unhinged. The thoughts of Malcolm’s playfulness andflirtingcome flooding into my mind, sending a tingle of excitement up my spine.
“I’ll forget it eventually—”
“You just said it was impossible to forget.”
“Ellie! Can you not recall every little detail for once? We’re forgetting it happened.”
“We?” she asks, offended. Knowing her, she will cling to this information like it’s her source of oxygen, waiting for any moment she has to ask about it. I love her, but she’s the worst little meddler that’s ever existed. And she’s a therapist? I feel bad for her patients.
“Yes,we.Now drop it.”
Just when I think Ellie is going to press me again, she lets out a small sigh of defeat and strokes the feline in her lap. “Let’s watch something.”
The first commercial shows a group of girls skipping down the street—probably an advertisement for some beverage or tampon. One of the girls is wearing a miniature veil in her hairand a white sash that saysMiss to Mrs.in silver glitter. The girls with her are all wearing different colored wigs, snapping photos of the bride-to-be doing a plethora of poses by the traffic light. My gut twists at the sight, the sheer joy she must be feeling as her big day approaches.
The pit of loneliness starts to stretch in my stomach, emptying me out from head to toe, physical effects ofblehwashing over me as the commercial fades.
I have no idea what’s wrong with me. For years, I was content with where I was at in life. The desire to be with someone was so far out of my mind I was starting to think it would never come back to focus, and I was fine with that. But then, like the flip of a switch, everything changed. Watching my friends get engaged was my undoing.
The universe clearly wants me to avoid this downward spiral by redirecting my attention to a slew of faculty messages, all revolving around the biggest event of the term…prom. Emma has been on a scary level of party planner lately. Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones. Instead of nesting, she’s planning. Ellie groans as she reads through the list of messages from her side of the couch. We don’t speak of the tyrant Emma has been lately. It’s an unspoken fact that she’s been a tad exhausting.
EJones:Decorating starts tomorrow!!! One week, people!! - Emma
She has had four “urgent faculty meetings” since last week, all revolving around prom.
Ugh,prom.
Every year, we’re required to stand around in a humid gymnasium, guarding the punch bowls, watching the bathrooms, and separating the grinding Neanderthals from one another in the middle of the dance floor. I once called it our final battle of the year. Teachers versus students. Malcolm just balked at me the first year, telling me I didn’t know how tobe intimidating. Let’s just say he was painfully surprised at the work we put in to keep the kids sober and abstinent the entire night.
After an evening full of rom-coms and wedding planning, I head to Lola’s so I can relieve her sitter. Helping plan Ellie’s wedding has been a mixed bag of emotions, adding in her constant,“We don’t have to do this,”interruptions, and I am spent. My duty as a bridesmaid is to help, even if it threatens to swallow me whole in the process. It comes with the territory.
I pull up to Lola’s house just as Malcolm is taking out the trash. He gives a small nod before pinning his eyes to the ground. “How was wedding planning?” he asks as he beelines for his truck, not giving any indication that he really wants to hear how it went.
“It, uh…went well.” I stand in the middle of the yard. “How was Lola?”
Looking over the roof of his truck, he laughs. “She kept asking me to take her to the casino. I compromised and let her beat me at blackjack.” His laugh is short, restricted, like he’s restraining himself around me. The thought of Malcolm not being himself around me sends a sharp pain down into my stomach. He’s felt so far away since we got back from camp, and that was the exact opposite of what I wanted. I just wanted things to go back to the way they were, where he was my best friend, the person I shared everything with and went to for pity parties over shared tubs of coconut ice cream. These last few days have sucked. Lola’s health, being back in class, and now this weird, stand-offish interaction has been enough to send me crawling to the nearest grocery store to empty out their supply.
I grip my elbows, the distance from him feeling almost unbearable, and hug myself. The loneliness ignites in my chest even more as he forces himself to keep from looking at me.“Well, thank you. For everything.” I ignore the stinging in my eyes and force a smile.
“Always.”
I watch him climb into his truck, giving me a small wave before he pulls out of the drive. Dirt stirs up around his tires, leaving a cloudy trail behind.
Tears are streaming down my face before he’s fully out of sight. The distance he’s left in his truck feels more than just physical. I think it’s safe to say I’ve done what I didn’t want to do and made things weird with Malcolm. A small breeze tickles my ear as I stand on the front porch, staring into the darkness, a quiet whisper of,“Don’t lose him.”
