Page 13 of Pick One
Sure. No problem.
“Oh, John, thank goodness you’re home.” My across-the-hall neighbor pulled her door wide as I clomped up the steps to my own apartment like she’d been lying in wait for me. “What is going on with Teagan?” she demanded.
I’d lived across from the woman for nearly two years, and we’d never exchanged names. But then last winter Teagan had heard her playing “Turn It Off” from the Book of Mormon soundtrack at full volume. He’d gasped like a Broadway refugee who’d found someone to speak his native tongue and pounded on her door, and now Monica—who was thirty-three, an Aquarius, had three cats of varying temperaments, worked as a labor and delivery nurse, and was seriously considering dying her black hair platinum blonde but wasn’t able to commit—came over a few times a month for what T called “Charcuterie and Show Tunes.”
“Teagan?” I repeated, frowning down at my phone. He still hadn’t answered me. “He seemed fine a little while ago. I think he’s on a Zoom call now. Why?”
“Because.” Monica looked left, then right, then grabbed my arm and drew me into her living room, which was the mirror image of mine. “Because,” she whispered, “we walked in together when he came home from work, but he seemed… off.”
“Okayyyy.Offlike when they ran out of oat milk at Campus Connections? Oroff, like when Shawn Mendes and Camilla Cabello broke up and he thought he had a chance with Shawn?”
“Neither.” Monica wrinkled her nose. “Worse. Like… like I asked him how his date went last night, and he bit his lip and looked down at his phone and got all gooey-eyed and dreamy. And I was like, ‘Hey, yo, talk to me here!’ And he blinked a bunch, like he was coming out of his own little world, then he said something about how ‘big things’ might be happening, but ‘I’ve gotta talk to John first before I tell anyone else.’”
I shrugged. “He mentioned big news to me, but I have no idea what it could be. He seemed happy about it, though. I don’t think it’s anything bad.”
“Well, there’s bad, and then there’sbad, isn’t there?” Monica mused, which was the kind of statement Teagan would have totally understood on a level I didnot. She lowered her voice and said significantly, “He went on a date last night.”
“Yeah, I know. He goes on lots of dates.” Twenty-three. Exactly. “So?”
“Soooo, it was with the guy from the seminar on technology in education last week.”
“Was it?” I said nonchalantly. “I didn’t get details.”
No details other than the fact that the guy’s name was John, just like mine, that Teagan had been gone precisely two hours and fifty-three minutes, that he’d driven his own car, that he’d brought me home some leftover chicken scampi that reeked of garlic, and that he’d looked tired but notdisheveled-tired when he’d plunked down beside me on our sofa to watch the news,which had allowed me to finally draw a deep breath.
Any more details would’ve made me a full-blown stalker.
“Well, I’m worried that maybe…” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “It went well.”
I blinked at her uncomprehendingly.
She nodded. “Right? You see what I’m saying here? So I called Fern immediately, of course—Teagan gave me her number for emergencies, and this fits the bill—and she agreed that we’re at Threat Level Scarlet. She’ll be here any minute for something I’m calling Margaritas and Mischief Night. It’s kind of a Teagan-inspired name, which I thought was fitting. Mrs. Graziella is bringing up some lasagne in half an hour, too, and don’t you worry, because we’re not leaving until we’ve made a plan to handle your situation.Oooh! Maybe we can lock Teagan in a room until you have a chance to correct things. Something like that.”
“Lock him in a—? What the heck are you talking about?” I demanded. “Monica, what do I need to correct?”
Monica heaved a frustrated sigh, likeIwas the one being dense. “This situation that you’ve allowed to occur, obviously! I mean, it’s bad enough that we’ve all been watching you guys do this weird hide-your-feelings dance foryearrrrrs—”
“Less than a year,” I corrected. Then belatedly added, “Not that I have… feelings.”
“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “Sorry to crush your illusions, but you are the worst feelings-hider in the world, second only to your roommate. The tension has been driving all of us crazy for months, waiting for you to sort your shit.”
Wait, what?“Who’s ‘all of us’?”
“Um. Let’s see. Me. Fern. The Graziellas. Mr. Sincero from 2B. Kasim from the market. Pauline and Jen from the bakery. Um, Stephen and Carl, the ones with the mini schnauzers Teagan liked to pet whenever you guys went for coffee on summer weekends.” She tapped her lips. “I’m probably forgetting some. Teagan knows a lot of people.”
He really did. He had a magnetic personality that drew people in. But not a lot of people knewTeagan. I loved knowing that I did. I actually felt kind of… almost… possessive about it. About him. Which was wrong on all sorts of levels.
“Anyway. Mrs. Graziella said to let you two work things out in your own time, but I’m afraid that’s no longer an option here, John. It seems like he really likes this guy.” She cast a worried look in the direction of my apartment. “So what are you gonna do about it?”
I clutched my coffee cup more tightly in my hand. “WhatcanI do? I mean, it’s… good. It’s… great. That he… that he likes someone,” I managed to choke out.
“Other-John,” Monica reminded me sadly.
“Right. Yes. Other-John,” I agreed grimly, like the bottom wasn’t falling out of my world. “Teagan deserves to be happy.”
“Sure he does.” Monica grabbed my arm. “But he deserves to be happy withyou. No one else can love him like you can! And this whole clusterfuck isyourfault, becauseyouhaven’t told him how you feel. He might like Other-John, but the original is always the best.” She laid her hand on my arm. “Go be the original-John, John. Just talk to him.”
For a long moment, I stared at her, my muscles too frozen to move. Downstairs, I heard the main door to the building open and close with a click and Tito barking excitedly.
