Элисон Скотч - The Theory of Opposites

“Oh,” I say. “I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s your first problem,” he says. “If you don’t know something, ask.”

Theo picks up on the third ring. He’s groggy but I’m certain I didn’t rouse him. Theo never sleeps. I used to wake up in the middle of the night and find his pillow cold, then I’d pad into his kitchen to discover him hovered over the computer, fixing whatever needed to be fixed in the world. I’d fold my hands over his shoulders and try to help him relax, and maybe I’d make him a cup of tea, but eventually, he’d implore me to go back to sleep, and I reluctantly would. Though I never felt great about leaving him alone in the kitchen, never felt great about slipping into bed without my other half. With Shawn, I never had to worry about that. He was always there, next to me . Until he wasn’t. Until he was at Grape! or at golf or at God knows where now with Erica Stoppard. Theo welcomed space but never so much that he didn’t know where to find me, couldn’t make his way back to bed and vacuum up the distance. Shawn never needed space until suddenly, he needed an ocean.

“Hello?” Theo says tonight, his voice gravelly.

“Did I wake you?”

“No,” he says. “You know that I never sleep.”

“Can I come over?” I ask, tentatively, though I’m certain it’s the question I want to pose.

He hesitates, then says: “Yeah, of course. Is…are you okay?”

“I am okay,” I say just before hanging up. “I’m writing my map.”

Later, we discuss that this doesn’t mean anything big but also concede that maybe it could mean something big. But that I’m dealing with a lot and right now, I just want to forget about it all for a little bit and that we both totally understand and agree on everything.

I say that I’m not on the pill and I’m not very fertile anyway, and he says, well, I’ve been tested and am totally healthy and also, I only have one testicle, but we take no chances (because taking chances like this is really dumb and only proves my father’s theories correct) and he wears a condom, which he has stowed in his wallet.

The sex is sweet and surreal and sticky and a little weird and more tender than I remember it ever being with Shawn. I close my eyes when we’re done but then I remind myself to open them, that maybe I’ll see something I didn’t before. And I do: I see him. And I wonder why I didn’t say Y.E.S. to Seattle. How my whole life might have been different. How I wouldn’t have met Shawn, how I would have lived in Seattle and grilled fresh salmon for dinner and become an avid Mariners fan and driven a Prius to the co-op for organic fruit.

Theo rolls off me and kisses me on the forehead like he really means it.

“I’m so glad you called.”

“Well,” I say. “You did just get laid.”

And we both laugh, and I feel like I’m in a romantic comedy, and the whole audience is cheering and weeping and rewinding their DVRs just to watch that amazing scene all over again.

And I am totally prepared to bask in that feeling forever, or at least until I wake up and realize that I just slept with my ex-boyfriend while I am still married (technically, but I’m following the “rules”) when Theo jolts up on his forearms and says: “Shit!”

And that’s when we both look down and realize that we really may be screwed.

Fate. Inevitability. Destiny. Meant to be.

The condom broke. (Of course.)

“I don’t want to do this,” I say to Vanessa.

“You never want to do anything,” she replies. “That’s the whole point.”

I groan and look down. About half a mile below and to the left of the bridge, I spot the Dare You! crew, with their cameras pointed toward us like Uzis. The producers thought that a DVD companion video would be a smash, so they’ve ordered us back atop the Brooklyn Bridge (the second time for Vanessa; I’m the virgin) for a healthy dose of insanity in which we plunge ourselves off and pray that this ridiculous cord that is now attached to my waist somehow saves us.

I steady myself on the rail and tilt myself halfway over. If I hover my rainbow cast over the railing and Instagram it, I could write something really witty about, like, a rainbow over the Brooklyn Bridge! But my cast is sad-looking now. The rainbow is faded and greyish, and I’m certain there is mold curdling on the inside, and it itches me to the point of insanity. Even rainbows can’t stay perfect forever.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?”

“Because we’re contractually obligated. Also, it’s goddamn awesome.”

“You and I must have very different definitions of awesome,” I say. Vertigo sets in and the world skews to the right, and I quickly jump back to the walkway. “I suppose this is a bad time to tell you that I think I may have caused my father’s heart attack?”

“What?”

“My mom emailed me with the theory.”

“Jesus Christ,” she sighs.

“She wasn’t blaming me. If it’s any consolation, she thinks he’s a jackass.”

“So you’re blaming you?”

I exhale and let the hot July breeze fall over me. Maybe it can lift me up and carry me into a different, less complicated life.

“I’m saying that I feel responsible.”

An assistant comes over and tugs my harness so tight around my waist that I think I might lose consciousness.

“You’re good to go.” He pats me on the back, like this is totally normal. That sane people throw themselves off bridges every day without a care in the world. “Have fun!” he adds over his shoulder.

“Please,” Vanessa says to me, and I can tell she’s a little bit out of patience. “I love you, Willa, but I am getting a little sick of your orbit revolving around him. It’s your life. Fucking live it.”

“I am living it! Do you think I want to be up here on this bridge, basically doing the dumbest thing I’ve ever agreed to in my entire life? All because you dared me? All for some reality show?”

“This isn’t even close to the dumbest thing you’ve ever done in your life,” she says. And then the assistant is back, squeezing her harness, and we fall silent.

“Okay, cool,” he says, and then looks from one of us to the other. “Hey, don’t jump angry, man. It will kill the vibe.”

He makes this hang-ten symbol with his hand, and I wonder if he’s friends with Ollie, and then I spin quickly toward Vanessa.

“Well, if you’re keeping track of the dumbest things I’ve ever done, then you should know that I slept with Theo two nights ago.”

And her eyes bulge a little and she smirks just a touch, but before she can reply, another assistant pops in and screeches, “It’s go time! Let’s do this, ladies!!!!” And his enthusiasm makes me want to throttle him, but I have no choice. Because I am here, and I am under contract, and I am starting to think that I’m the worst daughter in the world, though my father is also the worst father in the world, but I think he’d agree (and probably write a chapter on it) that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Vanessa goes first, because that’s what she’s always done in our friendship. Then it’s my turn. I’m certain I’m going to puke. I can feel my insides rising up, and I see my life in front of me — the Alps and Disneyland and Doc Martens and Theo and Shawn and everything else, too. I know that I’m going to die now. This is what happens to people before they die. I wonder if my dad also saw his own life in front of him, like a spread of Polaroids, when he was splayed and catatonic on 60th Street.

And then assistant number one is back. “Smile if you can remember! They’ll take a picture and send it to you!”