Caren Lissner - Starting From Square Two

Gert pushed thoughts of the Healys out of her mind and moved the mop slowly across the kitchen floor. There was a tiny rainbow near a corner where the sunlight bent through a glass candy dish, and she mopped the spot.

A shrill sound startled Gert. The phone. She stared at it for two rings, then picked it up.

“Is Gert there?” a voice asked.

Gert knew instantly who it was. She smiled. If nothing else, Todd was disarming. Even if she wasn’t going to date him, or anyone else right now, she certainly could be friends with him. She had felt incredibly comfortable talking to him at the bar. He was completely different from Marc, though. Marc was sure of himself, maybe even a little cocky. Todd was just Todd.

“It’s the Sober Guy,” Todd said.

“Ah,” Gert said. “Is that what your friends call you?”

“Sometimes,” Todd said. “They’re always saying, ‘Come on, just have one little drink.’ They don’t care that I’d lose my job. My company is like the CIA. They do drug tests when they hire you that can track marijuana you smoked two months ago.”

“Better stick to crack,” Gert joked, then winced, wondering if it was too sharp a comment to make to someone she barely knew. It would have made Marc smile, if he were there.

Todd laughed. “So how are you doing?”

Gert hadn’t had anyone ask her that in weeks, except her parents, who were still trying to convince her to move back to the West Coast. She’d confirmed their worst fears right after college when she’d married a guy from Boston and moved to Queens.

“Not bad,” Gert said.

“What are you doing today?”

“Just cleaning my place.”

“I need to do that,” Todd said. “My roommate’s a slob. Do you live alone?”

“Yes,” Gert said, balancing the phone on her shoulder so she could keep mopping. Yes, she thought. I live in a condo with two bedrooms. The second one eventually would have been the baby’s room. It’s ridiculous that I live here, but I don’t want to move.

“How was your day?” Gert asked.

“Great,” Todd said. “I ate lunch at this bar by my old job. And I just had tea, and the bartender looked at me like I was crazy, but I told her I’m not allowed to drink because of work, and you know what she guessed I must be? A brain surgeon. Do I look like a brain surgeon?”

“Anyone can look like a brain surgeon,” Gert said.

“Wow. I feel so important now.”

“What’s your old job?”

“Oh. For a little while after college I was a courier in the diamond district. My friend’s family owned a jewelry store. They needed people they trusted to do those jobs, so we both worked there for a while, walking around the city transporting jewelry and hoping not to get mugged. It was kind of fun, and I got to hang out with my friend’s family, who have this old-fashioned business that not a lot of people have anymore. One time, on a Friday after work, they took us to their apartment on the Lower East Side and they had a zillion relatives over and cooked Romanian food. It was incredible.”

Gert realized that Todd liked long answers, long explanations. He wasn’t concerned about boring her. It didn’t mean he was full of himself—just that he wasn’t constantly checking to see if he was saying and doing the right thing. He had no affectations, no pretensions.

She liked it.

The other line beeped, and Gert ignored it.

“Do you have to go?” Todd asked.

“No. But I am cleaning….”

“Okay. Well, what I wanted to ask was…do you want to have dinner some night?”

“Um…” Gert said, looking around the room. “I guess, maybe.” She realized she was being too tentative. “I mean, sure. Why not?”

“Great,” he said. “My schedule gets a little strange. I’m working nights the rest of the week, but I’m free after next weekend. Unless you wanted to get together tonight.”

Gert thought putting it off for a week would be wise. She could use the week to work up to it. But looking around again, she realized she didn’t have anything to do that night. She might as well go. Todd seemed harmless enough.

“Either way is fine,” Gert said. “I didn’t have any major plans tonight.”

“Really?” Todd said. “Do you want to do it tonight? I don’t want to push, but it might be nice to see you before my schedule gets crazy.”

Gert was flattered. She accepted.

When she put down the phone, it rang instantly.

“Hey!” Hallie said.

“Hey,” Gert said. “You sound excited. What’s up?”

“Erika knows this bar where some of the Giants hang out. Do you want to come tonight?”

Gert hesitated. “I could,” she said. “But I probably can’t.”

“Why not?” Hallie asked.

“Well,” Gert said, “do you remember that guy Todd, from the bar?”

“Choo-Choo Boy?” Hallie suddenly seemed intrigued. “Did he call you? Did he ask you out?”

“Yes,” Gert said. “He asked if I wanted to have dinner.”

“That’s great!” Hallie said. Gert was glad Hallie was excited for her. “It’s at least a start,” Hallie added. “When are you going?”

“Tonight,” Gert said.

Hallie was quiet for a second.

“Tonight?” she said.

Gert hesitated. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. “I said I would,” she said.

Hallie was quiet again.

“You haven’t been out on a date in a long time,” Hallie said. “Maybe you should have a powwow with me first to plot strategies.”

“Okay.”

They met at four outside a coffee shop. Hallie snuffed out her cigarette before entering. The New York smoking ban still wasn’t to take effect for two months, but Hallie wanted to practice. Gert was glad for the ban, but kept her opinion to herself. It wasn’t that she was a priss; it was just that secondhand smoke gave her a sore throat.

“Here’s the thing,” Hallie said, sitting down at a square white table with gold flecks in it. The coffee shop was filthy, but cozy. “You know that you can’t accept a date for the same night. It makes you seem desperate.”

“It’s not a date,” Gert protested. “It’s just a friendly dinner. Besides, Todd’s going to be busy next week. His schedule’s going to get crazy.”

“With work? Or with dates?”

“With work.”

“How do you know?”

“Why would Todd lie?” Gert said. “I just met him.”

“I don’t know.” Hallie shrugged, winding paper from someone else’s straw around her pinkie. “For some reason, he just struck me as a little off. I wouldn’t be so trusting so soon. Believe me, I’ve seen what’s out there. You have to be careful.”

“I will,” Gert said, knowing Hallie was only trying to help but wondering how she’d gotten so cynical. Todd was a nice guy, right?

Gert looked around. She noticed that many of the people in the coffee shop were reading the paper. But the women who were reading it kept peering over the top, to see who else might be there.

Hallie said, “I think I’ve met half the weirdos in Manhattan. And I think Erika’s met the other half. I don’t want you to get disillusioned.”

“Did you ever think,” Gert said, choosing her words carefully, “that maybe you and Erika try too hard and obsess too much? You strategize and analyze, and men can probably sense your frustrations.”

Hallie looked hurt. “I can’t act relaxed and happy with my station in life when I’m not,” she said.

Gert wasn’t sure what to say.

“Do you remember when I dated Steve for six months after college?” Hallie asked. “While I was dating him, guys hit on me all the time. And of course, I didn’t need them, because I was with him. They must have sensed that I was happy. And then, after Steve and I broke up and I was miserable, no one ever came up to me. But I couldn’t help being miserable. So there’s a Spiral Deathtrap of Dating: When you’re with someone, you look happy and relaxed, and thus, a lot more people than you need are attracted to you. When you’re sulky and alone, no one is attracted to you, and thus, you stay sulky and alone. I can’t look content when I’m not.”