all over me.”
“You spilled something? Now there’s a surprise!”
Celia knew exactly to what Kate was referring.
“Tell me about the cute guy you bumped into.” Kate folded her arms across her chest as she leaned back to hear Celia’s story.
“There isn’t anything to tell. Except that he had nice eyes. But we know that doesn’t mean anything, don’t we?” Celia poured more water into the palms of her hands and this time splashed the water around her neck. “Think about how many guys I’ve met with nice eyes who turned out to be the biggest idiots.” She waved her hands back and forth by Kate’s face. Kate could list a dozen obnoxious men who wasted Celia’s time, Geoff included. “Don’t answer that!”
“It’s funny how you’re an eye girl. That always seems to be the first thing you notice.”
“I was embarrassed that I spilled the coffee. I’m grateful I didn’t spill it on him. I don’t remember what he was wearing. But when I got home, I saw last night’s makeup smudged around my eyes and the big brown stain on the front of my sweat shirt.” Celia cupped her hands and then plopped her head into them. “Oh, forget it. Ugh!”
Celia dug through her bag for her cigarettes.
“I see you’re still smoking?”
Celia glared at Kate. “Yes, I am.”
“I didn’t expect an answer. You do know it’s passé to smoke these days, don’t you? Not to mention it’s disgusting and stinky. I thought you said you were going to quit.”
“Why do you say that same thing every time you see me smoke? It’s become a little Kate cliché. Did you think I’d quit since last night? You saw me have one then and you see me with one now. I told you I’m going to quit this week, or maybe next week.” She took a long, slow drag.
“Celia, let me ask you something. Hypothetically, of course. Would you ever ask a guy for his name and number? You know, like the guy you bumped into, and I do mean bumped into, this morning?”
Very rarely did a man get a second chance from Celia. In the event someone got beyond the first date, she found something wrong with him in a relatively short period of time. The men she dated were too short, too tall, too thin, too fat, too boring, too silly, too pretentious, too poor, too rich, too smart, too dopey, or just plain too available. She had something negative to say about nearly every guy she dated. Once, after Geoff, she dated a man in whom she was remotely interested, but the relationship never amounted to more than fleeting friends. She tried to give him a chance, which was something she never thought would happen. For now, she had her work and her friends to keep her busy.
“I don’t think so. Why? Because I mentioned someone with great eyes?”
“No, I was wondering, that’s all. You don’t usually talk about guys that you see. I thought if you met someone and found him to be a little interesting, you might think about being the one to make the first move.”
“What are you? Insane?” She turned her head and blew smoke away toward the ocean. “Simply ask a stranger for their number? Are you nuts? How would I know if he was a psychopath or something? Oh, that’s right, I wouldn’t know, would I? Besides, I don’t need a guy. I think I’m happy the way I am. And this is exactly why I never talk to you about guys. Because if I do, you make it a conversation, rather than a comment. It was a comment. That’s all. Plain and simple. I thought you’d be entertained by the fact that I spilled coffee all over myself first thing Sunday morning.”
“There is nothing wrong with wanting to date or having someone significant in your life. Sometimes you act as if it’s a weakness to want to share your time with another person.”
“I do not. I prefer being alone. At least for now. I happen to enjoy my own company, and I don’t have time for a relationship.”
“I’m not saying that you don’t like your life now, Celia, but didn’t you like being in a relationship? I know Geoff turned out to be crazy, but there were some relationship-kind of things you appreciated in your life. Weren’t there?”
“Kate, I hate this conversation. You know I hate it because I tell you every time you bring it up. And I hate it even more when you mention HIS name, especially when we’re about to eat. I know you mean well, but I’m not ready. I hate talking about him. I can’t even say his name.”
“Celia, THIS is a relationship. Our friendship is a relationship. Is this so bad?” Kate moved her hand back and forth between them.
“I know that’s not what you’re talking about, Kate.”
“As I said, there’s nothing wrong with wanting a romantic relationship. I just want to say that. I know you don’t need one but need and want are two different things.”
“I know. I know. It’s not something I can handle right now. I’m scarred from the insanity of my past. Let’s leave it at that.”
“I get it. Just one more thing. If you recall, you did want to get married—that’s why you got engaged to Geoff. You must have seen something good about it at one time in your life. And just because that idiot turned out to be a major league asshole doesn’t mean that all guys are bad.”
“Ya know, I’m not sure I would have gone through with that marriage. Even if I never found out who he really was, I don’t know what might have happened. Sometimes I think being engaged was the perfect excuse to not date. I didn’t have to deal with all the other jerks in the world, because I could tell them I was already committed to one. It wasn’t the marriage I wanted—being committed to someone was the perfect excuse I needed to not date.”
“Maybe we should order those orange margaritas now.” She motioned to the waitress.
Boop
A small cluster of white clouds fragmented the vista of a solid blue sky. Celia enjoyed the ocean view from her window. Should I call in sick? I could spend the day with my feet buried in the sand and my nose buried in a book. She could feel the freshness of the air, a wonderful change from the muggy and oppressive previous two weeks.
She stared out the window while she pulled her sleeveless yellow dress over her head and fastened the buttons down the front. She stood silently for a moment as she gazed out toward the water. At least it’s Thursday. One more day to the weekend.
Celia moved forward into the window. She placed both hands on the windowsill and pressed her face against the screen. She inhaled the ocean air. How can I spend such a glorious day cooped up in my office? I should get a waitress job down at the dock. I could serve oversized veggie sandwiches dripping with melted cheese and cool fruit smoothies to tourists all day. I would be able to enjoy the golden sunshine and fresh air. A puff of pollen wafted from the window. Celia sneezed. And how about those cold winter blizzards? Fun at the dock then?
Celia buckled her seat belt, placed the key in the ignition, and started the engine. She patted the dashboard. “Thank you, sweetie.” Her little green car didn’t always start.
She drove the scenic way, which took her by the ocean. She pulled into the parking lot at the beach, took the first space closest to the sand, opened the windows, and smelled the ocean air. From behind the steering wheel, she watched the waves roll onto the shore. She was mesmerized by the water.
The crash of a shell smashing onto the hood of her car startled her back to reality. In an instant, a filthy seagull blocked her view. The bird pecked at the shell and pulled out a tiny piece of meat. It then pooped on the car’s hood. Thanks for the gift, birdie. Guess this beach break is over. The dashboard clock read 8:17 a.m. She left the beach and headed to the T station.
Regardless of how beautiful the day, the subway car was either too cold or too hot. Today the underground