“What aboutyourlove life, Honorable Judge Foley?” She pokes my shoulder.
“I wasn’t judging! I’mneverjudging.”
She’s all skeptical with her pursed lips and her arched brow. “Mmm-hmm. When was the last time you went on a date, Asher?”
A month ago. Geoff set me up with Yayoi’s cousin. I wasn’t too keen, but it would’ve been rude to stand the woman up, silly to say no when she invited herself inside my home, and downright stupid not to fuck her when she stripped herself in my bedroom.
Didn’t feel great when she left at 3:00 a.m. with a quick kiss and a “I’m free again Thursday if you want to hook up.”
What else could I say except, “Yeah, sure”?
I didn’t call her. Don’t want a hookup. Want something real.
Is it weird to want that? All my married friends act like I’m so lucky to be alone. Like being a single man means I’m drowning in sex.
But I’m not. I could be, maybe. I’m not ugly. I’m successful. Women like me.
Sex with strangers loses its appeal after a while, though. Five years ago, sure, but in my mid-thirties, I’m kind of over it.
I stare at the cars on the screen instead of Joss. This is so boring. Why does anyone like it? “You know about all my dates,” I say. “I’m not keeping secrets.”
“That last girl didn’t do it for you—”
“You meanIdidn’t do it forher.”
She scowls. “Fine, but what about all the other ones throwing themselves at you?”
I roll my eyes. “No woman is throwing herself at me.” The only ones I even talk to are at work.
A decorative pillow launches at my face. “Theyare. You just don’t pay attention. Open your eyes next time you’re at the hospital. You’ll see what I mean.”
I toss the pillow back. “I don’t date people from work. You know this.”
Her laugh is offensively incredulous. “Then just walk down the street! If you call them, they will come.”
God, why did I say that thing at hibachi the other night? She’ll never let this go. I glance at the guys on the couch and lower my voice. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But you said—”
“Joss.” I meet her eyes, and she shrinks in her seat.
“Okay. I’ll stop. But... what exactly are you looking for?”
For a moment, I pause to consider, sipping my beer. WhatamI looking for? My attention strays to Jocelyn’s face. The pool-frizzed blond wisps at her temples. The tawny brown in her eyes. The arch of her eyebrows, a few shades darker than her hair.
My heart thumps once, twice, before I shrug. “I’ll know it when I find it.”
She shakes her head like I’m utterly hopeless and raises her can in another toast. “To the search, then.”
Jocelyn
The nightmares are your reminder to wake up.
—My Therapist
I have this fantasy where I stand on a hill with nothing and no one visible all around me. At the top of the hill is a giant oak, and at the base of the oak is a book open for reading.
I’m utterly alone. Safe.
