13
Pete
“Tell me about yourself,”I blurted as we finished our main course, and I had a feeling not only was I not ready for dessert, but neither was she.
“Wow, where did that come from?”
She shied away as if I’d said something wrong, but I had the desire to know about what makes her tick.
“Where do you come from originally? Family?”
“Well, my family comes from Ohio. Dad’s dead, and Mom’s a teacher.”
I gave her the look, you know, the look of sympathy whenever someone talks about death. As humans, we’re geared to do that, but she didn’t look sad or even remorseful about it. Was she really that cold? Or maybe it happened a while ago? That must be it.
“How did he die, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“He died in some freak diving accident. Dad was the risk taker of the family. He loved doing dangerous sports; he would say what was the point of living if you’re always going to play it safe. Funny now that I think about it. Mom and him were complete opposites, but I remember them just clicking. Well, what I remember of their relationship. Before it used to be so fresh in my mind, but now it’s like a distant memory.”
I opened my mouth to say something as she stared at the table, as if she was trying to recall everything about her dad. I knew the pattern too well. I’d done that when Dad had died and again when Mom died, too.
She continued talking, as if she was talking to herself more than me, “Mom is an only child; her parents died when she was young, so it was all about Dad’s family. His brother and sister, our cousins, his parents. They lived in Jersey, and we would always visit during the holidays. But, when Dad died, Mom decided that his family was no longer part of our family and cut all ties.”
I sighed. “That’s rough.”
“Yeah. I remembered how I felt at the time. I hated her for it. I mean, it’s six years now, and I’m no longer a teen, but back then, I hated her so much. Hated her for deciding how to get over grieving Dad, and just shutting them out. They tried at first to keep in contact, but then they stopped. I mean, it’s like asking someone on a date. You keep asking and they keep saying no, and eventually, you’re going to stop because you’re just not getting anywhere.”
Fuck!
That sounded so cold, and it must have been written all over my face as I stared at her blankly. She thought she was over it, but the way she was talking and acting told me otherwise. I didn’t want to push her, it was the first time we’d spent time alone without the twins or my brothers around. I wanted to get to know her better, so I decided to give her a little pop-quiz. Nothing about her family, because there were clearly issues there, but more about her.
“Who are your friends in L.A.?”
She sighed. “Yeah, only Dawn. She’s cool. She works in the diner, but she’s a rocking guitar player in a band. I was thinking about seeing her one night perform. Even if I’m not really into rock, but I would love to support her, by attending one of her gigs.”
I decided not to let that stop me from finding out about her. She stopped talking and there was an awkward silence. She mentioned Dawn earlier, but it seems as if she was her only friend, so I decided to change the subject.
“What do you do in your spare time?”
Her eyes darted around the restaurant, as if this was some kind of quiz, and giving the wrong answer would put our date on hold.
“I mean, you can’t just work.”
She shrugged. “Pretty much. I work ten hours per day, sometimes twelve. There’s no room to do anything else but sleep. At times, not even eat.”
“Before you came to L.A.?” I offered, thinking her life must have meant something before L.A. I get that sometimes people come and they land roles or they figure that is what would happen as soon as they come to L.A. But she was different, she said she didn’t come here to be an actress, and one thing for sure, she didn’t come here to be a nanny, either.
“We would hangout at the diner, and if there was a movie we fancied seeing, then we would see it. Ben is a big Marvel fan, so whenever the new movie came out, I would have to book it and make sure we had good seats.”
Odd, why did she have to book it if she was a fan?
She started laughing as she told me about one time she forgot to book the seats and ended up going to the theatre and hanging outside, asking someone to swap seats with her. This wasn’t normal, and the conversation and the direction it was going in started to make me feel uncomfortable, but I couldn’t figure out why.
“What type of music do you like?”
“Ben tends to like jazz, so we spent most of our time listening to that, sometimes rock. We went to a few rock shows if certain bands came to town.”
I gave up; there was nothing in this conversation about her. Everything was about Ben, and I didn’t want to upset her, or maybe it was me feeling jealous about her being out with me and talking about nothing but her ex.