fix me up on a blind date, are you?” I would like a woman of my own but blind dates can be so humiliating.
“What?” Billy takes a step back, like he’s afraid I’m about to grab him by the polo collar and punch him in the nose or something. “God no. Alice would never be a part of trying to fix you up with someone. I’ve suggested it before, like maybe with one of her available friends, but she says absolutely not. She says you’re unfixupable. In fact, she didn’t really want to have you over tonight at all but – ”
“But I asked her to,” a feminine voice says.
I turn around and standing there is Three Sheets.
* * *
Three Sheets looks much better without the purple maid of honor dress, the updo hair and the bleary eyes.
But I don’t notice that right away. I’m too busy looking at Alice.
Alice looks better than I’ve ever seen her. With her chestnut hair pulled into a high ponytail and no makeup, she looks even better than she did on her wedding day. Marriage agrees with her.
“Oh!” I say. “I almost forgot!” I hand over the package I’ve been carrying, a brown paper bag.
Alice gingerly opens the folded-over top – I don’t know what she’s expecting, snakes in a can? – and extracts my present.
She holds it up for all to see.
“That’s great!” Billy says with genuine enthusiasm.
“Wow,” she says, “a six-pack of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. You shouldn’t have.”
“Hey,” I say, feeling pleased with myself that I remembered Aunt Alfresca’s advice when I was little to never go anywhere empty-handed, “I figured it’d be rude, you having me to dinner and all, if I then went and drank all your beer on you.”
“Well, you definitely outdid yourself.”
Three Sheets takes a step forward. “I wanted to thank you.”
“For…?” I’m not so sure I want to know.
Maybe Alice doesn’t either, because she breaks it up with, “Here, let me go put this on ice and get us something to eat.” She casts a meaningful look at her cousin. “You going to help me?”
“Oh. Right!” Three Sheets says.
That’s another thing about women. At any given social occasion, they can’t travel from one room to another solo. It’s like they never heard of divide and conquer. To them it’s all safety in numbers like maybe there’s a masher waiting between the stove and the chopping block or something.
“Let me get us a couple of beers,” Billy suggests, leaving me alone with the lawn furniture. See? If Billy were a girl, he’d need me to go with him. And if I were a girl, I’d probably feel the need to go after him whether asked or not. But I’m a guy. I can handle being alone for a few minutes with the lawn furniture. I’m not scared of any mashers, not scared of any shadows –
“Ack! What the hell was that thing?” I say, jumping out of my skin, having felt something rub hard against my calf and then seen a black furry blur run down a hallway toward what I presume are the bedrooms.
Billy pokes his head into the living room. “Did it look like it could be the size of a cat?”
I think about it. “I guess so. I mean, it wasn’t the size of a horse and it wasn’t the size of a spider.”
“Then it was the cat.” He disappears, comes back in with our beers.
“Why in the world would you get a cat?” I study the label on the bottle of beer he hands me. “Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.” I tip the bottle toward him admiringly. “Nice beer.”
“Thanks,” he says, takes a slug of his beer. “Alice’s idea. The cat, I mean. She says it’s good practice for us. We both want to have kids, but neither of us have any experience, neither of us has younger siblings or ever did any babysitting. Alice says it’ll be good for us to see if we can love something other than each other without fighting all the time about how best to take care of it.”
“Geez, Billy, that’s a big commitment. A cat.” I’m thinking: the crease in his chinos, the practical
“What?” Billy takes a step back, like he’s afraid I’m about to grab him by the polo collar and punch him in the nose or something. “God no. Alice would never be a part of trying to fix you up with someone. I’ve suggested it before, like maybe with one of her available friends, but she says absolutely not. She says you’re unfixupable. In fact, she didn’t really want to have you over tonight at all but – ”
“But I asked her to,” a feminine voice says.
I turn around and standing there is Three Sheets.
* * *
Three Sheets looks much better without the purple maid of honor dress, the updo hair and the bleary eyes.
But I don’t notice that right away. I’m too busy looking at Alice.
Alice looks better than I’ve ever seen her. With her chestnut hair pulled into a high ponytail and no makeup, she looks even better than she did on her wedding day. Marriage agrees with her.
“Oh!” I say. “I almost forgot!” I hand over the package I’ve been carrying, a brown paper bag.
Alice gingerly opens the folded-over top – I don’t know what she’s expecting, snakes in a can? – and extracts my present.
She holds it up for all to see.
“That’s great!” Billy says with genuine enthusiasm.
“Wow,” she says, “a six-pack of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. You shouldn’t have.”
“Hey,” I say, feeling pleased with myself that I remembered Aunt Alfresca’s advice when I was little to never go anywhere empty-handed, “I figured it’d be rude, you having me to dinner and all, if I then went and drank all your beer on you.”
“Well, you definitely outdid yourself.”
Three Sheets takes a step forward. “I wanted to thank you.”
“For…?” I’m not so sure I want to know.
Maybe Alice doesn’t either, because she breaks it up with, “Here, let me go put this on ice and get us something to eat.” She casts a meaningful look at her cousin. “You going to help me?”
“Oh. Right!” Three Sheets says.
That’s another thing about women. At any given social occasion, they can’t travel from one room to another solo. It’s like they never heard of divide and conquer. To them it’s all safety in numbers like maybe there’s a masher waiting between the stove and the chopping block or something.
“Let me get us a couple of beers,” Billy suggests, leaving me alone with the lawn furniture. See? If Billy were a girl, he’d need me to go with him. And if I were a girl, I’d probably feel the need to go after him whether asked or not. But I’m a guy. I can handle being alone for a few minutes with the lawn furniture. I’m not scared of any mashers, not scared of any shadows –
“Ack! What the hell was that thing?” I say, jumping out of my skin, having felt something rub hard against my calf and then seen a black furry blur run down a hallway toward what I presume are the bedrooms.
Billy pokes his head into the living room. “Did it look like it could be the size of a cat?”
I think about it. “I guess so. I mean, it wasn’t the size of a horse and it wasn’t the size of a spider.”
“Then it was the cat.” He disappears, comes back in with our beers.
“Why in the world would you get a cat?” I study the label on the bottle of beer he hands me. “Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.” I tip the bottle toward him admiringly. “Nice beer.”
“Thanks,” he says, takes a slug of his beer. “Alice’s idea. The cat, I mean. She says it’s good practice for us. We both want to have kids, but neither of us have any experience, neither of us has younger siblings or ever did any babysitting. Alice says it’ll be good for us to see if we can love something other than each other without fighting all the time about how best to take care of it.”
“Geez, Billy, that’s a big commitment. A cat.” I’m thinking: the crease in his chinos, the practical
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