Goodnight
Short story
I woke up 10 minutes later than I'd planned. There was a small pool of drool under my face that I tried to cover up as I stood, before realizing I was alone in the apartment. I walked groggily into the bathroom and looked at my face. My sleepy haze hadn't quite settled and my body felt like it was out of alignment with the image in the mirror. I splashed water on my face and got back to alignment. I walked to my closet to find that all of my shirts were dirty except for one, and my jeans were wadded up in the corner. I couldn't find my shoes.
Thirty minutes before I woke up later than I planned, she was holding the phone in front of her, dialing my number, and preparing a lie to tell me. She held the phone for a long time, her mind running through every possible outcome. There seemed to be more bad possibilities than good ones. Even the best outcome was tinged with bad, but that was no one's fault. Her roommate saw her holding the phone and knew instantly.
"Are you kidding me?" She said. "You're going."
We were sipping coffee in a small local coffee shop. I didn't know my way around except to and from the restaurant, so she had picked this coffee shop. She chose it over Starbucks. I think if everyone had a local coffee shop they would choose it over Starbucks. She was thinking about how she almost stood me up. For a moment she thought about telling me, and in that moment her mouth opened. Then it closed. Then she swallowed the thought. I asked her what she was going to say and she shook her head, smiling. She was trying to avoid saying things we are supposed to avoid saying, especially on first dates. Then she told me.
When I was driving to pick her up I tried to come up with a few things to say in case the conversation lagged. I could only come up with one question, to ask her what her major was. I had already asked her the night we met, but I had forgotten. I don't listen well when I'm nervous. I realized later that if we couldn't talk easily then I wasn't interested anyways. I never ended up asking what her major was.
When our dinner came to the table she was telling me about her ex-boyfriend. I had just finished telling her about my ex-girlfriend. I've been told you aren't supposed to talk about exes, but we did. It's very easy to get to know someone through a mutual dislike of something. We both disliked our exes. She talked less than I did, because someone had told her the same thing and she believed it. She believed that guys weren't interested in hearing about other guys. She's right, we don't. She wanted to hear about my ex though. She wanted to know what I liked, she wanted to compare. I had no interest in comparing.
At the reception shortly after we'd met I asked her a question. She got out the order of the processional and answered my question politely. A few minutes later when she walked by she smiled politely when she looked at me. Then she touched my arm as she passed by. I noticed, even though I think it meant nothing.
In the car on the way back to her house she placed her palm over my heart while I was driving. She joked that she couldn't find it. I laughed and said me neither. She said she was kidding and that she didn't think I was heartless, that I was just cold. I was cold because after my life changed I had mistaken coldness for strength. I didn't know I had done that, but I had. I was quiet for a moment because she had discovered something about myself that I didn't know, and because she had reached across to touch my chest.
She stopped kissing me for a moment and leaned away from my face. She looked at me, concerned. I asked her what she was thinking about and she thought for a moment before touching her heart, and then touching mine the same way she had in the car and holding it there. She said now she could feel it and she was worried. She was talking about her own heart. She said something vague that meant that she was trying to decide between protecting herself and living in the moment. Then she kissed me again.
I was salting my green beans when she told me something she thought was true. She told me that after a break-up men can shut down their emotions and move on until there isn't any hurt, and then turn the emotions back on. She told me no matter how hard women try to do this, they aren't capable. When they say so, they are trying to convince you, and trying to convince themselves. I thought about the girl I had been with before while she was telling me this, and how that girl had told me this lie over and over when I asked, before finally admitting she had been lying to me. It wasn't her fault, she really wanted it to be true and had tricked herself into thinking it was. When she told me this fact she had discovered about other people we both knew she was talking about herself.
I was being so honest I forgot to keep things to myself. I explained how I felt about things that were sure to end. I said that they were important, regardless of how much time we had to enjoy them. I said they were perfect because they started and ended without any fights or disagreements. While I said this she imagined a string of women before her. She was seeing me seeing myself as a conqueror, and herself as a conquest. She stopped listening, and stared at my coffee getting cold on the table. I didn't notice but continued talking until she started listening again. She heard me say I had to be genuinely affectionate towards someone. She heard me say I didn't care how much time we had because a bad situation shouldn't steal our chance at a moment. She heard me say that those moments were the things that I lived for. She kept listening.
I looked at the map on my computer, trying desperately to rehearse the way from the apartment to her house, from her house to the restaurant. I always got lost when I was in town, because I rarely had to drive. For this night I insisted on driving. I chose the only restaurant in town I could remember. It wasn't perfect, but I knew how to get there and I knew it was good enough and I wanted to plan everything for her.
She told me over coffee that she hadn't ever been on a real date before. She told me that she hated not knowing things ahead of time, and liked to plan. She told me that she liked that I had planned everything for her, and she didn't know why. Her friends had wondered what was going on when she told them she didn't know the plans for the night. They couldn't decide whether to be worried or excited. She couldn't decide either. I was excited.
I pretended to be offended by a joke she made on the couch in the coffee shop. She apologized, just in case I was actually offended. She put her hand on my knee and jokingly said she was sorry. All the other customers suddenly seemed to be leaving. We both looked up at them and thought we should leave. Before I said anything she invited me to her house. I asked her if her friends and the boy were still there. She said she didn't care. As we neared the house the others were leaving, we passed their cars on the street. Someone had burned something in the kitchen and the empty house smelled like burnt toast. I almost didn't notice because I was thinking about being in her house.
When we sat down on the floor of her room I saw her books and DVDs. I told her you can learn more about a person with 5 minutes in their room than with an hour of conversation. I'm still not sure if it's true, but I think it's an interesting thing to say to someone when you're in their room. She got up and went to the restroom and told me to look around then. She had good movies, but no great ones. She had books on leadership and math. The room was meticulously clean. After she sat down again I pointed out a loose string on the comforter. She got up and pulled scissors from a drawer to cut it.
Her head was lying on my chest in the middle of her bed. My right arm was around her small shoulders and my hand was playing with hers. I said something about how she had made it easy for me to kiss her. I had meant that she had been clear with me about whether or not I should try, and I was very grateful. She heard me say that she was easy. She sat up quickly and started to move away. I quickly grabbed her around the waist as if we'd been together for more than one night. I grabbed her with authority I didn't have. I pulled her back to me and she didn't fight. I moved in front of her and looked in her eyes and explained three times what I meant. Each time her anger faded a little more. I didn't kiss her again until she smiled at me.
In the morning as I was loading my bags in the car to go to the airport, I realized I had been smiling since I woke up. The only other time I've had this sensation was when I was drunk in Buenos Aires and couldn't tell if I was smiling or not without looking in the mirror.
She had her head on my chest, halfway upright so she could see the TV. The question on "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire" was obscure and we both chose different answers. I told her to make a bet. She thought while the man on the TV was thinking. She finally decided and quickly bet me that I had to come back to her city if I lost. I told her she had to visit me if she lost. We shook hands. She won and I smiled at her and I smiled at the future.
I looked at the clock and the time we had decided on had passed. I reluctantly let go of her waist and put my watch back on my arm, reentering reality from the dream I had been living. We didn't say much. There weren't any plans to make and no small talk about what came next. I kissed her forehead and stood up. I said goodnight instead of goodbye.