Page 5 of Lovesick
I tended to be blunt, but only when he knitted his eyebrows did I think that maybe I had just been a little too blunt. Or way too blunt. I opened my mouth, ready to retract the question - or at least make it easier for him to dodge it if he didn’t want to answer, but he just shrugged and said, “She left for someone else. It’s not as bad as it sounds. It… it was…sort of mutual.”
In other words, “It’s complicated, I’m still working through it, and I don’t want to go into details.” I could add “I haven’t seen you in over a year” to that equation and pretty easily understand why he might not want to talk about this right now. Especially since I had just crashed my car into his van and we both had places to be.
I glanced across the street, watching the little white walk sign flicker into existence for the crosswalk I would have to take to meet my family. If I followed the sign and went to the parade, I would be walking away from Marty.
Maybe I could compromise with myself. “I really need to get going,” I started, “but it would be nice to catch up a bit more. I’m staying at my parents’ tonight and going home tomorrow evening or the day after. Do you want to grab lunch tomorrow?”
Reading through books filled with complex medical terms was usually easier for me than reading people, but this time I could tell that I’d read Marty correctly. “Yeah, that would be great. I can give you my number.”
“I still have it,” I admitted. In fact, every once in a while when I wanted to call ‘Momma’, I hit ‘Marty’ in my contacts and spent a moment staring at his name and reminiscing.
“Perfect. I’m working in the shop tomorrow, but I can probably get an hour or two off for lunch. Call me?”
“Sounds like it would make more sense for you to call me instead..” I pointed out. “I’ll be home all day. Just let me know when and where… and I’ll meet you.”
“Sure, that works.” Marty glanced at his watch. “I have about ten minutes to make this delivery.”
“And I don’t want to be late,” I agreed, but without an ounce of regret. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you.” He grinned, adjusted his cap, and disappeared into the back of his florist truck after unlatching the swinging doors.
I stood there with my hand on my hip, taken aback by the swiftness with which he had vanished. I had hoped to… I don’t know. Stare at him some more? Watch while he unloaded some flowers, then wave at him as I walked away?
My feet beat a quick retreat to my car’s driver door when I realize how awkward it would be if he stepped out of the van and I was still just standing there, staring stupidly at empty air. So, I quickly checked my purse for my keys, phone and wallet, locked the car and jogged a couple of steps toward the crosswalk which was blinking down to zero.
When I looked back on the other side of the street, I spotted Marty walking into the hotel with a couple bags in his left hand and a box hoisted onto his right shoulder. He bounced the box to adjust it so he could open the door, dragging his shirt forward and up just enough that I could see a smooth plane of bare skin below the hem.
When had Marty gotten so delicious?
He always had a cute face and a nice body. But he had dropped that high school boyishness for the physique of a man who cared about how he appeared to others.
It put my own inability to watch my weight in perspective, for sure. Marty had turned himself into a pinnacle of what made a man desirable, and I had just found myself with an undesirable amount of booty.
My phone vibrated with a call from my mother. “I’m coming,” I said immediately when I picked up. “Sorry! Where are you? On the street corner next to that insurance place?”
“Yes. The parade is starting!” The cacophony through the phone speakers echoed the clapping and music rising from my destination in the distance.
“I know, I know! I’m coming,” I promised, stepping quicker and clutching my purse to my hip to keep it from swinging into the other people hurrying toward the parade.
I spotted them at last and sped up even more. Just looking at my grandma today, anyone would think the large and ostentatious necklaces she was wearing were in celebration of Mardi Gras - but they weren’t. She wore those whenever she went out and picked outfits to match them.
Today, she wore a green dress that reminded me of Zoe’s…if Zoe’s dress had been pale green instead of forest green and had a complex lacy pattern on the chest and arms. My mother usually dressed for comfort even when going out, but today I spotted the telltale glint of earrings - her definition of dressing up.
I liked that about her. Growing up, she had taught me that what you wore didn’t necessarily define who you were, and if people around you only cared about that, they weren’t people you wanted in your life anyway. I wasn’t afraid to dress comfortably, thanks to her. So, dressing in scrubs had come naturally for me. But today, it felt good to dress up a bit wearing this festive purple top and fashionable jeans - even if they were a bit tight.
“-think she got lost?” my grandma was saying as I approached from behind.
“Traffic was probably bad,” my mother pointed out in my defense.
“Traffic wasn’t that bad, really,” I interjected. We all missed the next few seconds of the parade as my grandma and mother decided to make a Maggie sandwich and squish me tightly between them in a hug. When I could breathe again, I added, “I ran into Marty, and we talked for a minute or two.”
“Oh, that’s good! Ellen and I went out for dinner just the other week. She says he’s a great help, and has the personality for dealing with the public.”
My reply got lost in a swell of particularly loud music from a float. I just smiled, mouthed the word “later,” and we turned back to the parade. There would be plenty of time to catch up over dinner tonight and tomorrow before I left.
I watched the parade, laughing, smiling and clapping next to my family, and blinked when I realized something. I was having a great time, even without the enormous parade in New Orleans or a Mardi Gras party. Something about this evening had put me in a fantastic mood, and I intended to enjoy it thoroughly.
My mother bought me a plate of boiled Cajun crawfish and potatoes, and I stood there holding it and admiring a float that looked like a cross between a hummingbird and a butterfly. I bit into the delicious food, watching the people in their glittering costumes wave and dance, and I realized yet another something.
