Page 39 of Considering Us

“What makes you think that?” I asked, putting away the containers of enchiladas, twice-baked potatoes, and everything he would need for a killer steak sandwich in the refrigerator. And cookies. There were always cookies.

“You want me to meet him. When have I ever met one of your dudes?”

“There haven’t been that many dudes since I’ve known you, David. Just Bentley Preston, really, and I wasn’t exactly going to bring him over here.”

“You took him to the freaking Celtics game, Dev. Courtesy of me.”

“I just said two tickets! I didn’t tell you who I was bringing. And we were sort of disguised. Those were terrible tickets, by the way.”

“You said you wanted something out of the way, lady. So, that’s what I gave you. Obstructed view,” he drawled in his southern accent. “Besides, he had to show an ID with you when you picked up the tickets. I have my ways. I asked who you brought.”

I had to laugh. “You went all FBI on me? Why’d you want to know so badly who I was bringing?”

“Okay, Dev, you ask for tickets somewhere kinda hidden. That is not normal. Even this hermit of a basketball boy knows that,” he said, shifting into downward dog. “I’ve taken up yoga, baby! It’s changed my life.”

Yoga might be a good idea for him, I thought to myself as I pulled together the ingredients for a smoothie. I had started doing this on my weekly visits, and he slurped it right down without saying a word. I knew his mother was entrusting him to me, and I felt almost maternal toward him. Or perhaps like an overprotective older sister. “Yoga can be very grounding, or so I hear,” I said. “I’ve never had enough patience for it, but maybe I’ll try again.”

“Bring ambulance boy down here for some yoga,” he said, pulling back into child’s pose. “You still haven’t answered my question about Rich Man Preston, but I’ll move on.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing that David probably had as much disposable income as Bentley did.

“Why should I meet this guy? The candy one?”

“Heath? Tam thinks you are a good judge of who is a match for me.”

“Ha!” he said, standing up and taking the smoothie out of my hand. “That’s funny. I’ve never met her, but I watch her on TV. Tamara Sparks is one interesting lady.” He took a big glug from the glass. “But maybe she’s right. Maybe, just maybe, I see things from a different perspective. Like, I know you in a unique way. And I’ll be more objective.”

“She said something along those lines.”

“But here’s my question, Dev,” he said, putting the glass down on an end table and sliding down into the cobra position. “Why all these opinions? Why don’t you just go out with him and see where it goes? Something’s holding you back.”

“You know, David, if you were this open and talkative with the press, they’d say much nicer things about you.” It was true;they only labeled him as a sullen and standoffish individual, and with good reason, considering how he acted toward them. Hardly anyone saw the David I knew.

“You’re avoiding the question again, Dev. What’s going on?” He sat cross-legged, which made me smile as I watched him contort his very long legs into a seated position favored by preschoolers.

I sighed. He probably needed to know the whole story. “There’s a teacher at the school,” I began.

“I knew it!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “I knew there was more to this story!”

“He’s also a soccer coach—was a soccer player when I first met him in college. I’m not sure what your thoughts are on soccer.”

“Soccer is a respectable sport,” he replied. “What position did he play?”

“Goalie.”

“That’s cerebral, ya know?” he posed, tapping the side of his head. “So, he’s a thinker. Probably smart.”

“Very smart. Could tell you anything you ever wanted to know about any president. He also talks a ridiculous amount. It can be exhausting—charming, but exhausting.”

“Well, I can’t relate to that because, as you know, I don’t say much. Only to you.” I rolled my eyes and laughed. “But you knew him in college? Don’t take this the wrong way—because you’re not old at all—but that’s a long time ago.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” I said. “We had a one-nightencounter—if you know what I mean. But after we had talked for like a million hours. It was almost like one of those pods onLove is Blind, where they spend forever talking to each other.” He nodded; I knew that David secretly loved watching dating shows on TV even though he never dated anyone. “And then we bothleft the next morning, me for DC, him for London. And we never saw each other again, not until this fall.”

“And how was that? Did you hop right back in the sack again?”

I swatted his arm. “No, no, we did not. We talked about everything that happened and slowly got to know each other again. Hung out as friends. It was really nice, actually. He’s a good guy to hang out with—an interesting person who sincerely cares about me. He’s divorced with an amazing ten-year-old daughter, so he’s got some past stuff going on. And it’s more than that. He ditched me once before, so many years ago, as you pointed out. I tried to get in touch with him when he was in London, but he got involved with someone there almost immediately. So that’s always in the back of my mind, sort of a trust issue. But he’s a great guy.”

“So, why don’t you just go out with him? Sounds like you enjoy his company and all that. The London stuff was forever ago. Hell, I was only nine if it was fifteen years ago!”

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