Page 14 of Napkins and Other Distractions
“It all felt … right. Until it didn’t.”
“Vincent, listen. I may know a thing or two about overanalyzing a situation.” Marvin’s voice booms through the speakers in my car, and I take the last sip of my black coffee.
“Oh, really?”
My tumbler from home fits perfectly in the center console next to the cylinder of hypoallergenic wipes. After my last slug of caffeine, I grab one, clean my mouth, and contemplate stopping for a coffee refill. A quick glance at the clock informs me I don’t have time. The word “late” isn’t part of my vocabulary.
“Hush. Now, back up. Start at the beginning. Tell me every detail.”
“Marvin, I’m almost at the school. You’re getting the Cliff’sNotes version,” I reply, checking the address on my phone.
“Fine, but embellish a little. I may be engaged, but I still crave the juice.”
“Dinner was great. I folded and refolded my napkins like you showed me. And it worked like a charm. Two napkins. For the entire meal.”
“Two? You’re kidding?”
“I’m not. Val was impressed.”
“Fuck, that’s amazing, Vincent. You should feel so proud,” he says, and I smile, wondering how I ever thought there might be something more than friendship between us. Marvin’s cute, but there weren’t any sparks. When he suggested we stay in touch, I was certain I’d never hear from him again, but almost a year later, he’s become one of my dearest friends.
“Thank you. Yeah, I was really riding high from the win. And Kent was, well, my walls came crashing down.”
“And … ”
“He came home with me after dinner. For dessert.”
The interior of my Subaru goes silent, and I tilt my ear toward the left speaker, waiting for his reply. Nothing.
“Marvin. You there? Did I lose you?” I pull my beanie up, hoping to hear better.
“Um, yeah, here. I’m not sure I heard you correctly. He came home with you? To your condo? You let him inside? With shoes?”
My eyes find the car’s ceiling, knowing I need to spill it. I wince, and the words gush out quickly.
“Yes, he came over. Inside. He took his shoes off. I didn’t even have to ask.”
“Wow.”
“I listened to you. Stayed open. Didn’t tally objections.” Stopped at a red light, I check my face in the rearview mirror. “I’m rarely into someone like that, so I went for it. We made out … and did other things. I asked him to brush his teeth, which he seemed happy to do. And well, when the moment ended, I felt overwhelmed with embarrassment, and I asked him to leave.”
“Wait, rewind. Define other things.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
My cheeks flush. I pop off my hat and take another quick glance in the mirror, and yup, my face, ears, and entire bare head tinge crimson. I want to tell Marvin. We’re friends. But awkwardness and shame overshadow my will to share.
“Not on the phone.”
“Why not?”
“Someone might hear.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. They could be monitoring my line.”
