Page 64 of A Bookish Story

Once we arrive, park, and walk inside, it’s a good thing I’m not looking to find the love of my life here. First, I don’t find this romantic in the least. It has the ring of true desperation. Second, everyone here is much older than me. They’re using the same room they use for bingo, and the entry fee is a donation for their worldwide charities. Even though I plan to sit in the wings and judge the men to my heart’s delight, I pay an entry fee since these days I feel like I actually have money. They’ve got everyone sitting around a large table, and a timer that goes off every fifteen minutes.

I won’t be surprised if the two organizers at the front announce “bingo” at the changing of the guard. They’re both standing up there looking expectantly at the couples, like someone here is going to stick and they’ll have a wedding soon. They’re the kind of couple who are so aggressively happy together they can’t stand to see people choosing to be alone. Like me. At least they are giving them fifteen whole minutes but I don’t see how you can be sure you want to get to know someone better after such a short time.

Still, I want to tell my mother she should simply accept she’ll never find anyone like my father again. She had her love story and maybe that’s all she’ll ever have. Maybe it’s greedy to want more. Anyone else and she’ll have to settle.

My mother turns on the charm to triple wattage and I swear every man she meets is ready to propose marriage tonight. It would be odd to stand behind her and listen in to the conversation, so for my purposes, everyone is going to be a resounding “no” tonight. It’s good practice for her in understanding how not to settle.

The timer rings. “Switch tables! Next topic of conversation: Are you a cradle Catholic or a convert? And, go!”

Wow. Such riveting subjects. So controversial. I wonder what the odds are this leads to more than two minutes of conversation. They should ask their thoughts about World War II or ask for the title of their favorite book. Something important.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and there’s a text from Chris:

Am coming home ahead of schedule. Can you pick me up at the airport tomorrow?

Is he serious? Me, the rejected fiancée, is supposed to give him a ride home. This is some kind of cosmic joke, happening simply because I’ve stepped inside a church for the first time in years. Instead of striking me dead, God is playing a joke on me because what so many people say is true: He has a sense of humor.

I reply:

You can’t be serious. Why don’t you ask Nadia?

Chris’s response is brief:

Didn’t I say we’d talk more when I got back? Please, Luci, otherwise I have to call my parents.

I snort-laugh. He has an army of friends. And we broke up. I text back:

Take rideshare like a normal person.

I slip my phone back into my pocket and will ignore any further buzzing. Chris can buzz off. The one thing I will say about my experience with Ryan is that it’s taught me a lot about true love. I don’t see why I should ever settle for less than a man who makes me feel like I’ll die without him. If I do nothing else while she’s here, I want to make my mother feel the same.

It’s not until I’m at the back of the room where they keep the coffee machine that I spot him. There’s Eddie, sitting at a table talking to an attractive forty-something woman. He doesn’t see me when I wave, that’s how deep in conversation he is with the woman. I shouldn’t be surprised Eddie is here since Abuelita would encourage him to attend if nothing else to support the parish. I never thought he wanted to get married and this is a settling-down place to meet a possible mate. It’s not fair of him to get the hopes up of all these desperate single women.

When they have their “bio” break, I sidle up to Eddie.

“What are you doing here?” My tone is light, but I’m working him with my accusatory eyes.

I’m not sure he’s buying it.

“What? I came after work. Didn’t have time to stop by the house.”

“Eddie, are you seriously looking to settle down?”

My second try at eyes dripping with accusation. This time I add crossed arms for emphasis.

“Of course! I’ve been looking all my life.” He shakes his head. “Well, at least half of it.”

“Huh.” I uncross my arms, trying to be a bit more accepting of this previously unknown-to-me information. “I didn’t know this. That last lady you were talking to seems nice.”

“She is. We’re having coffee next week.”

“A coffee date is a great way to begin. Low expectations. But you never know.”

My mother joins us. “Eddie! You’re here.”

“What do you mean? You told me about it,” he says, cocking his head. “You said I should come.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually listen to me.”