Page 16 of Save the Date

“Do you want organic bananas or regular bananas?” Debbie asked as Emma scrolled through Hinge in the produce section of the Westwood Whole Foods. Emma didn’t care that she was shamelessly scrolling for love in public—she had to find a new match soon if she wanted to keep her career and will to live.

“What do you normally get?” Her thumb hovered above a surprisingly intriguing profile. The man in the photos, who claimed he was a podcast producer named Will, looked securebut not cocky with his blond hair and bright blue eyes. He had an easy smile that ate up half his face and an entire photo dedicated to the books he had recently bought and wanted to read. Emma was delighted to see psychiatrist Viktor Frankl’sMan’s Search for Meaningin the pile; it was one of her favorites.

“I normally get regular because I don’t think the pesticides can make it through a banana peel, but I don’t want to get a lecture about it if you prefer organic.”

“I think you have me confused with Jackie. I’ll eat whatever.”

Debbie nodded and put a few of each kind in the cart anyway. Emma didn’t care though. She was too busy reading Will’s answers to the app’s often cringe-inducing prompts.

In response to “Two Truths and a Lie,” he had written “My mom thinks I like her homemade jam more than store-bought jam and now I can never have good jam again.” Emma chuckled. The answer was not just endearing but showed he was willing to disobey authority by ignoring the rules of the prompt. Emma appreciated that kind of independence when it came to things that didn’t actually matter. She kept scrolling. In response to “The Dorkiest Thing about Me,” Will had written, “If I make you breakfast, we can only use my mom’s homemade jam and it is not very good.” And finally, in reply to “This Year I Want to…” Will wrote, “This year I want to work up the courage to buy jam from someone other than my mom but that was my resolution last year too and I couldn’t find the strength.” Emma was officially laughing out loud to herself in a supermarket, which would be a perfect start to their love story as long as he didn’t end up being a serial killer.

“Mom, look at—” But before she could shove Will’s profile in her mom’s face, Emma noticed she was being watched by a tall guy wearing aRick and MortyT-shirt. When they made eye contact, he waved. Terror shot through Emma’s body. The last thing she needed was a random client seeing her in her pajamas with her mommy. This could be worse than when Imaniwas high at Disneyland and ran into a client’s entire family in the hour-long line for Space Mountain. Actually, that one was impossible to beat. Emma could always flee and wait in the car.

But as the man approached, Emma realized he wasn’t a client after all. It was Rob… Something. The nice guy who lived next door to her at her first apartment after college. A guy who had tried, rather relentlessly, to make the move from neighbor/acquaintance to full-blown love interest only for Emma to dodge his advances at every turn.

As he confidently made his way past the oranges and apples, Emma had a hard time remembering why she had turned him down—multiple times. He had floppy brown hair and looked like he would fit right into one of Emma’s favorite pop-punk bands with his thin frame and skinny jeans. He was middle-school Emma’s epitome of a man. And adult Emma had similar taste.

“Emma Moskowitz! I thought that was you.”

“Rob! Hi! It’s been forever.” Emma knew the next move was to hug but she suddenly felt shy. So she turned to Debbie, who was already staring at Rob with more interest than was socially appropriate.

“Mom, this is Rob. We lived next to each other in Silverlake.”

Emma nearly shuddered at the memory. After graduating, Emma had thought living in the “coolest” part of Los Angeles would rub off on her. Instead, her immediate distaste for the area had further proved Emma’s suspicion that young adulthood didn’t suit her, and she moved west as soon as her lease was up. She felt more at home with the sixty-five-and-up crowd with their clean sidewalks and chain restaurants. And that was perfectly okay.

“Rob, so nice to meet you. I remember that building. It was…” Debbie searched for a diplomatic description as Rob stepped in to save her.

“A total eyesore. Which was why we could all afford it.”

Both women laughed as they exchanged a knowing look.

“Why don’t you two catch up?” Debbie suggested. “I need to find a few more things anyway. Meet at the car?”

Emma nodded as Debbie pushed her cart away. She and Rob watched in suspense as Debbie narrowly missed a pyramid of cantaloupes before turning back to each other.

“How have you been?” Emma asked, secretly hoping her life wouldn’t pale in comparison.

“Good, thanks. I’m officially a doctor of radiology. So, if you break a toe or swallow something metal, I’m your guy. I mean I couldn’t fix it or anything, but I could identify the problem and help you find a better doctor.” He smiled and Emma remembered what the issue had been almost ten years earlier: Rob liked to shit on himself. Despite everything he had going for him, he was painfully insecure.

“They didn’t cover how to fix a broken toe in eight years of medical school?”

“Sure, they did. But I specifically went into radiology so I wouldn’t have to touch anyone’s feet.”

Emma laughed. Maybe what was once insecurity had morphed into flirtatious self-deprecation.

“Enough about my raging success. What’s up with you? Are you living with the fam?” He vaguely gestured in Debbie’s direction although she was now hidden behind the cereal aisle.

“Sort of. I have my own place—I’ve just been spending some more time at home. Kind of alternating between the two.” This was an exaggeration bordering on a lie. Emma hadn’t been back to her old apartment in weeks and her father was actively looking for someone to take over her lease. The misrepresentation gnawed at her. She decided to abandon the niceties of small talk. “I actually went through—or am going through—a broken engagement. So, it’s been nice not to come home to an empty apartment every night.”

Instead of looking shocked or uncomfortable by this overly vulnerable admission, Rob’s eyes lit up. Despite his apparent pleasure in the news that she was single, he managed to say, “That must be really tough. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. But I’m doing okay. Trying to, you know, get back out there and flourish.”

“You look fully flourished to me,” he replied, and Emma felt her heart twitch.

***

“Rob seemed nice,” Debbie said as she pulled out of the panic-inducing parking lot. Emma nodded, waiting to see if her mom could resist saying more. “What’d you two talk about?” Debbie stole a look at her daughter.

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