Page 3 of Love is an Open Book
“You’re weird, but I like you.”
“Should I be offended?” I’m not; I like her, too.
Her lips curve into a smile. “Weird is good.”
“Are you lumping Ted in with us?” I drop my voice, even though there’s no way he can hear us from inside the apartment, and fake a whisper. “Because he bought a doormat to put in front of the bathtub, and I think that’s super weird.”
“Not that kind of weird,” she says, laughing. “The comfy kind.”
“Weird has a feeling?”
She opens her fist, the balled-up paper unfurling in her grasp like a gardenia blossom. “Everything does, if you sit with it long enough.”
If that’s true, then talking with her feels like homemade lemonade on the first day of summer. Sweet and refreshing and everything you didn’t know you’d been missing.
“For the record, I told him the doormat was an awful idea,” she says. “But he insisted it was designed to withstand—” She starts giggling before she can finish the sentence, and I prod her with my elbow, forgetting we barely know each other like that, but she doesn’t seem to mind, just holds up her hand to signal she needs a minute.
Finally, she squeaks out, “Built to handle all kinds of weather.”
Now I’m shaking with laughter, too, but also horrified. “What exactly is going on in our bathroom?”
“You tell me,” she says, eyes sparkling. But then she sobers up. “Not like I’ll be hanging around the apartment after this. What Ted did sucks, but I think I’m most upset to lose a friend.”
From where I’m sitting, he never deserved her. “Doesn’t sound like he was a good friend to begin with.”
“He was, though. The mistake was mixing friendship and romance.” She sighs. “It’s just that Ted felt safe. I never wanted to fall in love with someone who I thought could break my heart. Passion is overrated. I see it all the time, my friends falling hard and fast for someone they met in class, broken up byfinals week. Even my parents. To hear them tell it, they were madly in love. Couldn’t see a future without each other.” She gave him a wry look. “Split up before I was born.”
“My parents aren’t together anymore, either.” I don’t bring it up much because it feels strange, like my parents’ relationship status should be the last thing on the mind of a twenty-one-year-old guy. It should be, but thanks to my dad, it isn’t.
The monstera’s leaves brush my chin as I turn to her. “They got divorced during my senior year of high school. And seeing my dad struggle these past few years...” My mom seemed to rebound faster, but she moved to Madison. Made new friends.
Meanwhile Dad stayed on the farm, pouring himself into the business and not making time for himself. “He calls me whenever he’s feeling down, telling me how much he wished he could’ve shown her sooner how he felt instead of throwing himself into work. It’s a weird spot to be in, consoling him over Mom moving out. But I get it. He lost his best friend.” And now he’s just lost.
For a second, I wonder if I should’ve kept this to myself. She’s dealing with her own heartbreak. But she leans into me, just enough to feel her warmth through the layers of our jackets. A soft, unyielding pressure. “That’s a lot to handle,” she says. “For all of you.”
It has felt like a lot, even though I haven’t been able to voice it. But she did. I’m grateful for that, but I’m not sure how to thank her. Instead, I say, “Anyway, sounds like you know as well as I do that love’s not a sure thing, but you took a chance. That’s brave.”
“What part of this situation makes you think I’m brave?” Her eyes are puffy, the tip of her nose reddened. She looks vulnerable, but I have no doubt she’s stronger than I am.
“You told Ted you had feelings for him. That takes guts. Meanwhile, he didn’t say anything until he had to. Like a coward.”I run my hand through my hair, realizing I might’ve taken it too far. “Sorry, I know he’s your friend.”
She traces the edge of a leaf with her thumb. “He said that’s why he waited so long to tell me. He didn’t want to lose me as a friend.”
I twist toward the door with an involuntary jerk of my head, scowling, as if my roommate can see my disapproval. “Okay, yeah, I’d definitely like to have words with him.”
She laughs, the sound low and throaty, then she shifts to face me. “I have a better idea. How do you feel about a little light thievery? You could serve justice by retrieving what I left behind.”
“Are we talking valuables?” I’m thinking a necklace or something.
“A book,” she says. “Or it might be one day.” She looks unsure of herself again. “I’m trying to write a romance novel, and I asked Ted to read it like a month ago. He hasn’t gotten around to it yet, and now I don’t want him to.”
She put herself out there and got burned for it? I can’t leave her book in Ted’s clutches. “I’m going in.” Passing her the plant, I say, “Hold Frank for me.”
“Frank?”
I duck my head, wondering if this is the moment I go from “cool weird” to weirdo. “It’s a monstera.”
“Frankenstein,” she says, catching the reference. “Cute.”
