Page 39 of The Proximity Factor

“You don’t have to make excuses. I get it. You don’t want me around.”

“No. You’re not getting it,” I said as clearly as I could. “It’s just the opposite.” I paused, knowing what my next words could mean. “You don’t know how much I love the thought of being in the position where I have the time and money to play Ultimate next year, with you in the stands cheering me on. But that thought also scares the hell out of me, because I don’t see how to make any of it possible right now. I’m an almost-forty-year-old man who has to do social experiments to make ends meet. This isn’t my finest hour. Do you understand?” My palms began to sweat when she didn’t answer right away. I’d laid my cards on the table, and part of me wished I could put them all back in my hand, even knowing that would never win me the pot. But since I was afraid I would never have another winning hand, did it matter?

“I think so,” Lanie said, barely audible. “You have some things to sort out and you don’t want me complicating that. But just so you know, as far as I can tell, your worst hour is better than most men’s finest. There’s a lot to be said for getting up and trying every day, for helping others even when you feel like you can’t help yourself. That’s what I see when I look at you. So, if you ever decide you want a cheerleader in your life, you know where to find me. Until then, I’m going to leave you be.”

Well, damn, she understood, all right. Maybe a little too well. She effectually put me in my place and put the ball in my court. Anyone who thought Lanie Davenport wasn’t one of the most intelligent women around was a fool. I didn’t know how to respond. The woman had left me stunned by her kindness and her candor.

“Good night, Parker. Sweet dreams,” she dismissed me.

I stepped back from the door and stared blankly at it, wondering if I’d just given up every man’s dream.

I SAT ON THE COUCH Saturday night with my laptop, procrastinating doing my video diary. I’d just finished working on lesson plans, cheer routines, and schedules for the upcoming school year. The first day of school this year was August 5—just over three weeks away. As a teacher, I would be back at work the week before classes began. It was a good thing. Between the commute, teaching, and cheer practice, I would hardly be at the cottage at all. Avoiding Parker would become much easier. If only I could quit thinking about him.

The man had all but admitted he liked me last night. At least I’m pretty sure that’s what happened. Something might have gotten lost in translation through the bathroom door. But I was pretty certain I’d heard him right. Which meant the next six weeks were going to be long and awkward. Very awkward. I should have just left well enough alone and not involved myself in Parker’s life or forced him into mine. But I would no longer coerce him into anything, especially liking me. If I’d learned anything in life, it was that if you had to chase someone, they probably weren’t worth catching. If they really wanted you, they wouldn’t be running away. Hashtag Greg, and almost every other romantic relationship I’d ever had.

I wasn’t even sure what I expected to happen, anyway. All I knew was Parker had something special, and I wanted to figure it out. Now he would be one of my life’s mysteries. I couldn’t tell you how bummed I was that I would never be the recipient of that adoring smile of his or see him find happiness. I wished I had never looked at those pictures of him. Why they had affected me so much, I didn’t know. But it was driving me crazy, knowing there was a version of Parker I had missed out on. The version that would want a cheerleader.

Oh well.

“Let’s get this over with.” I logged into the portal before Parker showed up and caught me boo-hooing about him to the researchers. I went through the same old routine while I sat up straight.

This week’s questionnaire caught me by surprise. It wasn’t really a questionnaire at all.

Congratulations on making it to the halfway point of Study 19.A.2024-568.

I guess that was the fancy name of the experiment, which said nothing about the actual purpose of it. I had some names for it, but I kept them to myself.

Now that you have completed your first six weeks, please summarize what you have learned over those six weeks and tell us what you think the next six weeks will bring. Please proceed.

Were they serious? What was I supposed to be learning? Weren’t the researchers supposed to be learning something? Not to say I hadn’t learned some things. Hard things, even.

“Well,” I began. “I’ve learned I’m not sure this experience is worth the money I’m being paid. Europe had better be amazing. Like I’d-better-meet-Kate-Middleton amazing. If she were southern, she’d be right up there with Dolly Parton and Reese Witherspoon—the girl knows how to dress, and her manners are impeccable. Anyway, I’ve started to question my sanity for doing this. Why did you pair me with Parker?” I desperately wanted to know. “You had to have known we had very little in common, given all the questions on the application we had to fill out. Is this a study on opposite personalities? Maybe opposites attracting? Well, if that is your wish, then answer this for me: Why am I so dang attracted to him? You heard me right. I have the biggest freaking crush on my roommate, and I blame all of you. The worst part is, it’s not even an unrequited crush. Nope. Just a man who isn’t ready and feels like his life is a dumpster fire. His sister told me that. Don’t we all kind of feel like that? Nothing ever seems to go the way we plan. This experiment sure hasn’t.”

My life hadn’t either. I thought I’d be married by now, with a baby or two. Losing Daddy sure wasn’t part of the plan, nor watching my brother struggle so much after his tragic accident. I didn’t expect Greg to be a nut job, or Parker to be so sweet sometimes, or to feel so at home with him. Over the past few weeks, I’d come to realize that this cottage feels more like home than my little apartment. I loved looking across the table at someone during meals, or over on the couch as I vegged out at night. It wasn’t just someone, though; it was Parker.

“I guess what I’ve learned the most during the last six weeks is to expect the unexpected. As far as what I think the next six weeks will bring, I can’t say for sure. But I know it will be unexpected, whatever it is.”

I WALKED IN THE FRONT door around ten, and before me was a beautiful sight: Lanie was curled up on the couch, her golden hair splayed across a throw pillow as she peacefully slept to the sound of the TV. I set my laptop case and monitor down before I moved in toward her sleeping figure. On my way, I noticed a Pop-Tart wrapper on the coffee table next to several peanut butter cup wrappers and two empty cans of Diet Coke. It must have been some night for her to raid my stash of Pop-Tarts. A pang of guilt hit me. I’d probably driven her to binge on the unhealthy snacks. I felt worse when I noticed what show was playing. It was a movie on Netflix starring Reese Witherspoon and Ashton Kutcher. I’d promised to watch it with her a few nights ago. She was determined to find a rom-com I would admit to loving. That was going to take some doing, but I knew I loved watching them with Lanie.

I took a moment to admire her in the glow of the TV. How was it that six weeks ago I couldn’t wait to never see her again? And now ... well ... all I could think about was a way to make it work between us. I knew one thing: I would have to be worthy of her. Which meant maybe giving up Ruptured Worlds and taking a corporate job. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. And did I care if Maren and Stephen thought I was a sellout? They sold me out when they broke the most sacred of vows and trust between humans. What did that say about them? So why in the hell had I been carrying around the weight of their opinions? Did I want Ruptured Worlds to take off because of them, or me? It was a serious question I needed to answer. Did I even care that everyone around me would think I was having a midlife crisis if it meant I could still have Lanie in my life?

Maybe the way to put out the dumpster fire was to let go of the life I thought I was supposed to have. Perhaps then I could have the beautiful woman who seemed to be everyone’s cheerleader, and who smiled even while she slept. Why she even wanted anything to do with me, I couldn’t fathom.

I grabbed one of the throw blankets off the couch and gently placed it over Lanie. “Sweet dreams,” I whispered, aching to lean down and kiss her brow, her cheeks, her lips.

I retrieved my laptop and monitor and headed for my room. It should have elated me that tonight while my friends and I played Ruptured Worlds, it appeared I had finally fixed all the bugs in my new release. But was the latest version, even with all its upgrades—including better graphics and new ways to level up—going to make it sell better? I wanted to believe it would, but maybe it was time to face the facts and get some new dreams. Or perhaps just face reality.

An alarm went off on my phone, reminding me to do this week’s video diary. I groaned. After everything that had happened the last couple of days, I wasn’t looking forward to reliving it for these invasive researchers. But duty called. I docked my laptop back on its station and logged into the portal. What I had waiting for me this week came as a bit of surprise and relief. I didn’t have it in me to answer a list of asinine questions, although I wasn’t sure this request was much better.

Congratulations on making it to the halfway point of Study 19.A.2024-568. Now that you have completed your first six weeks, please summarize what you have learned over those six weeks and tell us what you think the next six weeks will bring. Please proceed.

What was this? What was I supposed to have learned? Wasn’t that their job? Wasn’t that why I had agreed to be a lab rat, for lack of a better term? Had they run out of intimacy questions? Sounded like someone had gotten indolent in their department. Or perhaps they were using this to formulate their new questionnaires. Lazy imbeciles.

Regardless of my irritation, I clicked record.

“What have I learned in the last six weeks?” Where did I even begin? Maybe with ... “Probably the biggest lesson is that it’s my fault I’m still a loser.” That hurt to say, but it was true. Who else did I have to blame? “Maybe these last three years I’ve been chasing after the wrong dream. Or at least chasing after it for the wrong reasons. I wanted to stick it to Maren and Stephen so badly, I’ve let them rule my life. I haven’t let myself completely move on from them. And I didn’t even entertain the idea of working for someone else because I didn’t want to be beholden to anyone ever again. My parents, my wife, my best friend. They all let me down. Not to say I blame my mother—she did the best she could and worked hard, but she checked out emotionally.”

I don’t know what was happening to me, but once I started, I kept the word vomit going like I was on an episode of Dr. Phil and he was going to cure me of being a loser.

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