“So,” Willam said, “What’s the plan?”
“What’s what plan?” I asked.
“For this weekend.”
“What’s this weekend?”
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“That,” Willam pointed at me, “That pretending to not know what I’m talking about. Its annoying.”
“I’m going to say this slowly so you can understand me. I. Don’t. Know. What. You’re. Talking. About.”
“Whatever, Liz,” Willam waved me off and went back to folding the laundry he was piling onto the table next to me.
“Don’t whatever me. What’s this weekend?”
“You and Lindsey.”
“Did you get psychic when I wasn’t paying attention?”
“Now I’m getting confused,” He admitted.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your anniversary.”
“Anniversary of what?”
“You and Lindsey have been dating for a year this Saturday, right?”
“We aren’t dating…”
“Since when?”
“Since ever,” I insisted.
“Yeah, you are,” Willam countered, “Did you not notice?”
“Now I’m confused too.”
“You two really aren’t dating?”
“Not as far as I know.”
It would be a lie to say that what Willam said didn’t get to me. For the rest of the week it would invade my thoughts whenever I was doing anything. Lindsey wasn’t my boyfriend… I never introduced him as such and he never called me his girlfriend. Being in a relationship with someone meant the implied Saturday night date and having a toothbrush at their place and having some of their clothes in your closet and oh my god. Lindsey and I are dating. Have been for a while. Why hadn’t I noticed this? And why hadn’t anyone mentioned it to me? Standing in the middle of the grocery store holding a bottle of the juice Lindsey loved and I hated I nearly fainted. It hit me like a truck. How long had this been going on? It couldn’t have been a year, Willam had to be wrong. I tried to remember when he started keeping shaving cream in my bathroom but I was at a loss. I dropped the basket I had been carrying and literally ran out of the store to my car.
“Lindsey and I are going out,” I said as soon as Charles answered his phone.
“Excuse me?”
“Lindsey. He’s my boyfriend.”
“Is this news?”
“What the fuck?” I demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I kind of assumed you knew.”
I snapped my phone shut without saying anything. Apparently everyone knew but me. This wasn’t possible. Clearly there was a misunderstanding. Lindsey has no concept of personal space. If he moves his toothbrush in then that probably means you looked at him for longer then a minute and god forbid you slept with him like I was so prone to doing. It’s not like I had anything at his place. We couldn’t possibly be dating if I didn’t even have a stash of tampons hidden in his medicine cabinet. Clearly I needed to nip this at the source. I couldn’t have people going around thinking Lindsey and I were dating when we so clearly were not.
When I got home the apartment was disturbingly quiet. Part of me was relieved but that tickling at the back of my mind I tried to ignore wanted to scream just to break the silence. I only had a few days to come up with a game plan and needed to think so I pushed all urges out of my head and collapsed on the couch with a glass of wine. Today was Thursday and Lindsey and I were slated to go out on Saturday. There was always the chance that he was on the same page as me but I didn’t want to run that risk. Not when the stakes were bound to be high. The easiest solution was just to call him and tell him that I had plans for Saturday. A date would really work, put him in his place and get me out of having to see him. Only problem was for some reason I didn’t want to hurt him. Now that was retarded. Lindsey is about as hard to hurt as a weeble. So why couldn’t I find it in me to pick up the damned phone and call him? It wasn’t that I actually liked him, ridiculous, I’ve just been trying to be a good person of late. Well. Better person. Good person might be out of my reach as a patented crazy person.
Luckily I was interrupted from my angst by my cell phone ringing. The screen said it was Lindsey. Time to face the music.
“Hey, Lin.”
“How are you, Lizzy?”
“Don’t call me Lizzy.”
“We still up for Saturday?” Lindsey asked, ignoring me.
“What are we doing?”
“Whatever. I didn’t really make plans so we can do whatever you want.”
“In other words you don’t know what you want to do so you’re going to make me decide?”
“Pretty much.”
“Sneaky.”
“Nothing is sneaky when it comes to you.”
“I’m not sure what that means…” I said slowly. Lindsey just laughed.
“So what are we doing?”
“Meh, whatever.”
“Whatever isn’t going to get us very far.”
“Fine. Why don’t we just rent a movie and get drunk.” I congratulated myself. The perfect test. It was sufficiently friendly that a boyfriend, or at least someone who thought himself a boyfriend, would be offended. Especially if Lindsey was under the impression that this was our one year anniversary like Willam was convinced.
“Sounds great. Any preference on movie?”
“Not so much.”
“I’ll just grab something random then.”
“I’ll order pizza and get alcohol.”
There’s little in the world nicer then knowing that everything is going your way. Its annoyingly unusual. So, elated, I managed to spend the next day camped out at my resident coffee shop wrestling out a pretty good, if I do say so myself, book review for my Monday column. I love my job, I really do. After so many years sitting in a book store glaring at people it’s elating to be writing for a newspaper on my own time. Not even a newspaper in my town. I’m a two hour drive from my boss and still get a steady paycheck. I couldn’t ask for a better situation.
Lindsey and I’s implied standing date near every Saturday is at five. That’s when he shows up at my door and harasses me into getting ready, that is. Usually we don’t get out until almost six. Of course that being when we actually go out. Half the time we just wind up having sex all night which might be my fault. Since I’d already decided that I was going to forgo my weekly sexcapades in favor of not giving Lindsey the wrong idea I had to be dressed and ready to watch a movie by the time he got there. Which also meant I had to change clothes five time in order to get the right level of casual. But by the time Lindsey finally showed up at my door (well, in my apartment. He doesn’t knock.) I was dressed, washed, and had just finished calling in dinner at the pizza delivery.
“You look nice,” Lindsey said politely.
“No I don’t.”
“Yes you do.”
“I combed my hair.”
“Quite well.”
“What did you rent?” I said, changing the subject. Lindsey paused and then handed me the dvd case. I glanced at it but didn’t really look. Some bad science fiction movie, normal for us. We like to Mystery Science Theater 3000 things. A half hour or so into the movie a knock came at the door.
“I’ll get the pizza if you grab some plates and get me another beer,” I offered. Lindsey nodded and wandered into the kitchen. I paid the pizza a guy and sat back down.
“Here you go,” Lindsey slid the new beer in front of me. Without really looking I grabbed it and took a sip. And froze. Something was wrong. For a second I couldn’t put my finger on it. I pulled the beer away and looked at it.
“What the hell?” I asked. Lindsey said nothing. I looked at him and he returned my look of horror. “What the hell?” I repeated, getting more frantic.
“Umm…” He stammered.
“Get out,” I wasn’t sure what I was saying but it seemed to be working so I didn’t try to stop. I jumped up and motioned frantically at the door. “Get out!” He nearly scampered out without arguing. I had to sit back down before I fainted.
“Willam,” I whispered and dug my phone out of my pocket. I dropped it twice before I got the number dialed.
“What?” He answered. I didn’t say anything. “I know its you Liz so don’t try and prank call me. What do you want?”
“Are you busy?”
“I was having sex actually.”
“Seriously?” I asked, snapping out of my shock, “You answered the phone while having sex for me? I feel so special. I don’t think I’d do that for you.”
“This better be important.”
“It is,” I assured him, “I think Lindsey just proposed.”
“He what? What do you mean you think?”
“Well he gave me a beer with a diamond ring tied on it.”
“What did you say?” Willam asked.
“What do you think I said?”
“Oh my God you hit him, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t hit him,” I defended, “I just kina yelled at him to get out.”
“Oh Liz.”
“Don’t “oh Liz” me.”
“This is big.”
“Big enough for you to come over?”
“Nah. Teddy here is bigger.”
“You’re a bad friend.”
“No, I’m not. You’re just a bad person.”
All contents on this and any other page on Complications is the intellectual property of Rebecca Moses.
