Page 49 of Love's a Script
“I have vanilla ice cream,” he said.
“Does it have dairy?”
“No, but I promise it’s good.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He laughed. “Only one way to find out.”
There was a pause. “You inviting me over?” she asked.
He should’ve backpedaled. It would’ve been the wise thing to do, but the idea that he could do something so simple as providing an ingredient for a float and improve her low spirits was too irresistible.
“I am,” he said before giving her his address and hanging up. While Ruben waited for her to show, he straightened his entrance area and double-checked that the ice cream was still nestled in his freezer amongst the frozen vegetables and microwavable meals. The buzzer to his apartment rang sooner than he’d expected, and a minute later, Mary was at his door.
“Come in,” he said, taking the pop bottle she’d brought.
“You’ll have to let it rest for a second,” she said, keeping her puffer coat on but removing her boots. “I dropped it on the way up.”
Ruben retreated behind his kitchen counter as Mary settled against the back of his sofa and looked around his place.
“Is it weird that I’m here?” she asked.
“No. Do you feel weird being here?”
She shook her head. “But I did only call because I wanted to vent to someone.”
“About your dad’s situation?”
“No, actually,” she said, her voice momentarily brightening. “It turns out his girlfriend is who she says she is.”
“That’s great. I’m glad E came through for you.”
“Me too, and thank you again for connecting us.”
He nodded then forced himself not to fill the preceding hush, and eventually, Mary said, “I didn’t get a role at work that I really, really wanted.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, hoping it didn’t sound hollow. He knew all about professional disappointments and how much they hurt.
“I knew there was a chance I wouldn’t get it,” she continued, “and I was ready for that. But I feel almost betrayed by the person who did get it.”
“Why is that?” he asked gently.
“Betrayed is probably not the right word, but I heard she went to our boss and directly pitched herself for the job. Around me, though, she acted almost like she was too good for the role. And I get it, we’re just coworkers, not real friends. She doesn’t have to disclose anything to me, but I guess I feel embarrassed for not knowing that until now.”
Ruben struggled for what to say, not knowing what Mary needed in her moments of sadness, but she suddenly took a long exhale and said, “Glad I was able to admit that out loud.”
“You feel better?” he asked, searching her face.
She smiled. It was so good to see. “I do. Thanks for listening.”
“It’s no problem,” he said, looking away as something in his chest caught. “So how about that root beer float?”
He pulled two tall glasses from a cupboard, the ice cream from the freezer, then searched his drawers for an ice cream scoop. When he turned back, Mary had removed her coat and was standing by the counter. His nerves rattled, and he gripped the ice cream pint, letting the icy burn take his focus from her and the tight, long-sleeve T-shirt she wore. As he struggled to put a dent in the hard surface of the ice cream, he mumbled his frustrations.
“Ruben—”
“I should’ve gotten this out to soften a little.”
