Page 27 of Say You Will

Twenty minutes of quiet conversation later, I flip on my windshield wipers as the occasional raindrop gives way to a blustery October drizzle. “Bronwyn’s husband ended up building the thing a house made of sticks.”

“I can’t believe Dean let his toddler keep an earthworm for a pet.”

“Keep is an overly generous description. He told her she could visit the worm’s stick house outside, but Mr. Worm might be out with his friends when she stopped by.”

Franki shakes her head with a smile.

Eye contact is normally a deeply uncomfortable thing for me. I do it because it’s a necessary social interaction, but Franki’s dark amber eyes hold mine and Ilikeit. I only look away at all because I’m driving. I clear my throat. “I think I may owe you an apology. It occurs to me that my proposal last night may have been insensitive.”

Her humor subsides. “What makes you say that?”

“Your reaction. I could see that you were disappointed in me. Later, I wondered if I hurt your feelings. If I did, I’m sorry for it.”

I don’t understand social cues the way most people do, but I’ve learned to adapt. The truth is I don’t know why she would perceive my proposal as insensitive or unkind. I certainly didn’t mean it that way, but I’ve learned to recognize certain body language, facial expressions, and tone to draw conclusions about how other people perceive things. It’s an analytical approach, rather than instinctual.

She takes a deep breath. “Would you like me to explain why my feelings were hurt?”

“Yes.”

“It felt as though you were telling me I wasn’t worth time or attention. That I should accept something so much less than what I want for my life because I wasn’t worth your love or the love of any man. You wanted to buy me like I was a product on a shelf instead of a person.”

How she can explain the way I hurt her with so much patience, I’ll never understand. “I didn’t mean it that way. No one deserves happiness or to be loved more than you do. Iknow you’re a person.” I rub my chest. I may have to make an appointment to see my doctor and get an EKG. Something is wrong with me.

I look her way. “You weren’t just hurt. You were pissed.”

Her lips twist. “You’re the only person who ever catches on when I’m angry.”

Other people hear her sweet voice and make assumptions. I look at a number of data points, including body language, facial expressions, and the pacing and emphasis of people’s words.

“If I promise not to propose another business marriage, could we start over?” I ask.

“What would that look like?”

I ponder the question. “I think it would look like us getting to know each other again.”

“As long as you understand I’m not marrying you so you can get your hands on a company. It’s not happening.”

“You made that clear last night. I understand.” She’ll never marry anyone for mercenary reasons, only emotional ones.

I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. “What’s your favorite song?”

She considers for a moment. “I guess right now it’s ‘Twin Size Mattress’ by The Front Bottoms.”

“Is that a real song or a joke I’m not understanding?”

“Jokes are only funny when we’re both laughing. It’s real.”

I nod and relax. “My current favorite is ‘The Night We Met’ by Lord Huron.”

“I love that song.”

“Good.” I smile.

“What’s your favorite movie?” she asks.

“I don’t watch movies. I watch documentaries. That sort of thing, but I still prefer to read. Mostly nonfiction, but sometimes science fiction.”

Her mouth tips up at the corner. “You don’t like movies?”

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