Page 8 of Love Is an Art
She rests her head on crossed hands, her elbows on the table. “Because I’m a woman and don’t want to look like an easy mark?”
The slight breeze blows her hair around her face.
“Because being labeled a sweetheart sounds like a weakness?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I stop to consider this. She waits, watching me. It feels like it’s just the two of us in the night. “That’s true. You can be taken advantage of”—I take a deep breath—“because you’re not on guard.”I never suspected a thing with Paisley.“But don’t you think it takes a certain strength too? To not let others’ betrayals change you. I don’t want to go through life suspecting people of bad intentions. Although that’s a lot easier said than done.”
We both concentrate on eating for a few minutes, finishing our burgers.
“That’s true. I also want to state, for the record, that my intentions toward you are good.” She says this with an intense seriousness but then waves a fry at me.
“Do you have intentions toward me?”
“I wouldn’t be sitting here if I didn’t.”
Direct. I salute her with my beer and then finish it. “Do you want to take a walk to Pier 35? Have you been? It’s great at night with the view of the bridges and the city lights.”
“No, I’ve never been there. Is it safe at night?” She sips the last of her beer.
“Yes, it’s well lit.”
“Okay. Let me run to the bathroom, and then I’ll meet you out here.”
“Okay,” I say.
She gets up and disappears inside.
I text Dylan and Ben that I’m leaving with her. I’ve barely hit Send before Ben is there.
“Did she leave?” Ben asks. “It looked like it was going well.” Dylan tries to shush him.
“We’re going for a walk along the pier. She went to the bathroom.”
“Dude still has moves.” Dylan punches me in the shoulder. Ben rolls his eyes.
“It’s not moves.” I shake my head. “The pier has a great view.”
“Sure, it does,” Dylan says. “I’ll talk to you later this week. And don’t forget, if it all goes well, you can always bring her as a date to my wedding.”
I shake my head. “I just met her.”
“C’mon,” Ben says to Dylan. “Let’s leave the guy alone. This is a good first step. Good way to get back out there. And she looks like a lot more fun than Paisley.”
Once you break up with your girlfriend, that’s when all your close friends finally tell you that they never liked her. Never thought she was good enough for you. Worked too much and had no sense of humor.
It’s understandable. But not reassuring. Because, before that, they’d said she’s great. Although Ben had asked, “Do you know what you're getting into?” I guess Ben was trying to hint at something with that comment. Apparently, Paisley and I had been in two different schools of thought about relationships and fidelity.
They near the corner, even though Ben can’t resist turning around and giving me a thumbs-up.
Tessa comes back out and smiles. “Shall we go? You don’t need to check back in with your friends?” She waves at the art gallery as we pass it. “Did you come with a lot of friends?”
“I did, but they just stopped by our table on their way home while you were in the bathroom.”
We wander past the lit bars and closed stores of the Lower East Side, across Delancey Street. People mill about on the streets, chatting and joking on their way to check out the next bar. Colorful graffiti decorates the closed, metal, roll-up storefronts.
“Where did you grow up?” I ask.
