“Howard, you have everything to offer someone. You’re handsome. I know you hide it, but I have a feeling there’re muscles under those concert tees you wear, and you’re on track to take over your uncle’s business. You’re a walking panty dropper, or briefs, whatever you’re into is good with us.”
“It’s women. Well, one woman,” Howie interrupts.
“Either way, you’re smart, you’re funny as hell, and anyone would be lucky to have you.”
“I’m funny?” There’s doubt in his eyes, almost like he’s trying to think of a time when he made someone laugh.
“Of course you’re funny. Like when you come out of nowhere with a classic one-liner. Or when you talk shit to the drunkards on Friday nights thinking no one can hear you.” I’m not great at coming up with specific examples, but Xav and I have spent countless hours laughing over something Howie’s said. Xav nods in agreement.
“Okay, that still doesn’t answer the question of how yougetthe girls.” He shakes his head in disbelief.
“I don’t. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You could walk in there right now and pick someone up, no questions asked. But it doesn’t matter if it’s not the right one.” Howie harrumphs at this revelation.
“Are you going to tell us who she is?” Xav leans in a little closer, clearly eager to learn about his crush.
“No.” Howie crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.
“No? I told you about Olive ghosting me, and all I get is no?” I avoid looking at Xav. He doesn’t know about the latestdevelopment, and I don’t want to recount it right now. I chug the remaining quarter of my beer instead.
“Not forever, just for right now. She doesn’t know, and this is a new friendship. I have to keep you coming back for more, right?” Howie shrugs, and Xav and I erupt in laughter. See, he’s funny. He’s maintaining an air of mystery to keep us on the hook.
“Okay, fine. But I was going to stay in this friendship either way.”
“Me too, but I gotta run or I won’t be staying in my marriage. Cami takes her food seriously these days.” Xavier stands from his seat, grabs his bag, and heads out with a wave.
Howie and I continue our back-and-forth, putting away a few more beers and our food before calling it a day. I didn’t expect to hang with him this afternoon, but it was nice. It got my mind off Olive and sort of filled that hole from where Xav has been somewhat absent lately. His life is changing with the baby coming, I get it.
As I exit Union, I give Olive a call. It goes straight to voicemail, and I decide to walk home. It’s the responsible thing to do, and fresh air will clear my head. Crunching leaves under my feet, each step is heavy. I wish she would just let me know she’s okay. I don’t like that everyone seems to have had a less-than-stellar experience with her parents.
She deserves better, and I can’t help but wonder if her parents are the reason it always seems like she’s holding something back. Like the tattoo question she never answered. Is she afraid to tell me she can’t get a tattoo because they wouldn’t approve? Does she think if I knew they would judge me, it would change what we are building?
I walk up the steep stairs to my small porch. It’s not sprawling like Olive’s, more of a landing at the top of the steps. My house is old, a starter-home that I thought would be a good flip one day. Turning the key in the lock, I push inside.
The hardwood floors have been refinished, and the kitchen has been remodeled with white cabinets, marble counters, and a subway-tile backsplash. I have a Victorian rug in the living room, but my furniture is mismatched, and the focal point is the large TV hung over the fireplace.
Sloughing off my shoes, I walk to the laundry room that’s at the end of the open-concept living space and strip off my clothes, tossing them in the washing machine. I strut in my birthday suit back to the front of the house to take the stairs up to the second floor, where there are three bedrooms, including the primary. The two spares haven’t been touched aside from making one my workspace.
Attached to my primary is a small bathroom. I walk in and turn on the shower as hot as it will go when my phone dings from where I placed it on the dresser. Hurrying, I turn off the water and make my way back to the bedroom to pick it up.
Olive
I’m sorry I didn’t respond earlier. My parents showed up as a surprise.
I heard. I’m glad you’re okay.
Olive
About that, I’m sorry I had to ditch you last night.
I already told you not to apologize.
The phone rings, and I immediately answer.
“Don’t tell me you’re calling to protest the no apologizing rule.”
“I’m well . . . Okay, I was, but I won’t. How was your day?” There’s a shakiness to her voice.
“Uh, it was fine actually. I covered your shift at BKB for Beau’s lunch, then hung out with Howie at Union.” I crawl into bed.
