That Boy

I've already said enough to incriminate me, and she is the closest thing to a mom that I have, so I might as well tell her the rest of the truth.

Cause this is the part that worries me.

This is the chicken shit part.

“I've been kind of afraid to do anything about how I feel because I don't want to mess things up and lose him. Lose our friendship. Because that I couldn't take.”

She gets out a bottle of wine, uncorks it and pours me half a glass.

“You shouldn't think of it as losing your friend, dear. You should look at it as gaining something a whole lot better.”

I look at the half glass of wine in front of me. God, she's got visuals.

“That's kind of like the whole is the glass half empty or is it half full thing, huh?”

She raises an eyebrow at me. I'm afraid if I don't succumb, she may stoop to torture.

“I get it,” I say, laughing and holding up my hands in defeat. “Really, I get it.”

Then she walks over to a bookcase in the family room, pulls a picture frame off the shelf and sets it in front of me.

The picture is of Phillip and me together as babies.

We're naked, of course.

I wonder if our parents ever stopped to think there might be something slightly wrong about having us together naked all the time. Maybe I need to go to a shrink and have them hypnotize me to pull out my early memories. Maybe it's their fault I can't commit.

I consider for a second saying this, but think better of it and just look at the picture.

Another visual.

I have to wonder. Did she plan all this, or is she just winging it? Because if she's winging it, I need to sign up for lessons on manipulation from this woman. I always considered it one of my stronger skills, but I realize I'm a total novice compared to her.

I look at the picture again. You know, this is the first time in my life, I haven't flinched or cringed upon seeing a picture like this.

God, I must have grown up somewhere along the way.

I surprise myself by thinking that I now agree with what Mom always used to say.

You and Phillip are just so adorable.

We would probably have beautiful children.

Woah.

Wait.

Did I really just think that?

I am shocked at the things my own mind has been thinking lately. It's like it has a mind of its own!

I must have been smiling at the picture a little too dreamily.

“You would have adorable children,” Julie says, reading my mind.

Evidently that talent does run in the family.

“That's part of the reason why I made all the snacks for your party.”

“So Phillip and I can have an adorable baby?”

You've got to be kidding.

She laughs, “Well, not exactly. I just thought it would be nice if you could spend some time alone together. I think it would be good for both of you. And while you're at it, would you please tell Phillip how you feel about him? That Monica girl drives me nuts.”

I smile at that. Cuz, ME TOO.

And then she gets a big smile on her face and adds, “And I guess if I get a grand baby out of the deal, all the better.”

I knew she had an ulterior motive.

This whole conversation is very unexpected and sort of weird, but a lot of her comments hit home. But I really didn't need any convincing, I had already decided.

I want Phillip, and I'm not going to let anyone, even moaning Monica, get in my way.

Scratch that.

I am more grown up than that.

Monica is not the problem.

I am.

And this time, I'm not going to let myself get in the way.

Mrs. Mac looks at the clock and gasps, “Oh, look at the time! Is there anything else I need to take?” She refers to her spreadsheet. “Summer sausage. I almost forgot. JJ, will you run out to the garage freezer and get two packages of summer sausage?”

“Sure.” I mean it's the least I can do.

So I go out to the garage. They have one of those huge chest style freezers. The kind that you can fall into and never be found, until someone else needs something frozen.

I hate these things.

And of course, I see that the summer sausage is at the very bottom in the back.

Figures.

I'm leaning over, bent practically in half, trying to reach it. And the stupid garage door is open. I hear blaring music coming from up the street. I recognize one of my favorite Bowling for Soup songs.

Love songs suck and fairy tales aren't true

And happy ending Hollywood is not for me and you

Great. It's getting louder. I suppose the new cute neighbor boy is go

So add it up and break it down

It's not that hard to figure out.

I almost have my hands on the sausage, when HONK!! A car horn honks, scares me, and I very nearly fall in.

You're crazy and I'm crazy about you .

I manage to work my way back upright and turn around to see Phillip driving into the garage in his recently purchased little red BMW Z3. He's got the top down, the music blaring and his hair is all messed up.

God, he looks SEXY!

It is at that moment, I decide I'm done thinking.

Click.

Brain officially turned off, body officially turned on.

Yikes!

I walk over to Phillip's car door, turn my back to it, jump up over the door and land with my butt on his lap and my legs dangling over the side.

That was kinda slick. I didn't know that doing the high jump in track would come in so handy someday!

Phillip catches me and says, “You know, I think I could get used to seeing your butt hanging out of the freezer every day when I come home.” He gives me a big wonderful smile and says, “I was hoping you were already here.”

His arm is holding up my back, and he's looking into my eyes.

“Yeah, well you might change your mind when I tell you about the real interesting conversation I've been having with your mother.”

“Really? About what?” The way he asks makes me wonder if he already knows exactly what we were talking about. His voice has this, You're going to tell me a dirty joke, aren't you, tone to it.

“You.”

“Uh oh,” he says, although he doesn't sound the least bit worried.

I pull my legs into the car, tuck them under me and flip around so I am facing him. It's more comfortable, plus I like looking straight into his eyes.

“Yeah,” I say, poking my finger into his chest. “Uh oh, for you.”

“Why's that?”

“Well, I think she wants me to try to seduce you.”

“Keep sitting on me like this, and you won't have to try very hard.” His eyes are playful.

Oh.

I look down and realize not only is this a more comfortable way to sit, it's also significantly more intimate.

I'm straddling the poor guy.

Shame on me!

He laughs, “In fact, you'll be lucky if I let you out of this car.”

I smile at him, trying to make him think I was smart enough to plan it that way.

“Oh come on, Phillip, I thought you'd play at least a little hard to get. Be a challenge.”

He looks at me seriously. “What are you trying to say?”

I let my voice drop it's playful tone because he needs to know I am not joking around about this. “Look, you said I'd have to come to you. So here I am, and you'd better write this down because it doesn't happen very often. I admit it. I was wrong, and you were right. I didn't really try in Mexico. I was scared and stupid and I preferred to have you mad at me, than not with me at all.”