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“That’s uncharacteristically altruistic of you.”
“What can I say? No one can be an asshole 100% of the time.”
I think about the things Ava said about me. “I think some people would argue with you on that point.”
Martin’s gaze darkens, like he can see where my thoughts are heading.
Before he can say anything else, I ask, “Can you tell me anything more about the case?”
“Not much. If you’re curious, ask her yourself.”
I snort. “Yeah. Because that’s something I’m going to do.”
“It could be. You’re a curious guy and you don’t like unanswered questions.”
“Right. Because I have such a long history of starting conversations with beautiful women.”
“Do you realize that’s the second time you’ve called her beautiful?”
“Is it?”
Honestly, I’m kind of surprised I’ve only said it twice. Martin and I sit in silence for several long moments. It’s one thing that I like about Martin—his ability to tolerate my weird silences.
We met back in undergrad at the University of Texas. We lived on the same floor of one of the smaller dorms. He was pre-law. I was in computer science. Somehow, we both ended up in a dorm with mostly liberal arts and theater kids. I’ve always suspected he befriended me solely because I was the only person who wasn’t always inviting him to improv classes.
Lost in my own thoughts is pretty much my default state. What’s unsettling is that this morning my thoughts are still about Savannah.
What was the lawsuit about? How did she end up a personal chef? What was she doing before this?
Before I saw her standing in my kitchen this morning, I honestly had given little thought to her at all. Food appeared. I ate it.
Was it better than what I had been eating? Yes. Unquestionably. Every bite she prepared was delicious. I just never thought about it.
I don’t like that having seen her in person makes me think about it. I don’t like that her appearance affects how I feel about her food or about anything else.
I don’t know how much time has passed when Martin speaks again. “You know, it is okay to find a woman beautiful. It’s okay to notice that about her.”
Maybe for guys like Martin. Guys who have more experience with beautiful women. Guys who hook up with women on Tinder. Even back in college, Martin had the kind of easy charm that won people over. Sure, he’s gotten a lot grumpier over the years. He’s got family shit going on that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
But when he wants to, he can win over anyone. He is the opposite of me in that way. There’s nothing easy about me. Nothing charming. Nothing personable.
I make a noncommittal sound. After a few minutes, I struggle to put what I’m processing into words. “It bothers me.”
“What does?”
“I didn’t think about her at all until I knew what she looked like. I didn’t even wonder what she looked like until I saw her in my kitchen this morning.”
“Why does that bother you?”
“Because I thought I was a better person than that.” Martin just quirks an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh at me. “Okay, I know I’m an ass. I just thought I was an ass who wasn’t shallow. I never notice what people look like. I value ideas. Intelligence. Contributions to society.”
Of course, Martin knows all this about me. He’s been my best friend since college, so these questions of ethics and values are familiar territory. It’s the kind of thing you hash out over beers late at night when you room with someone for years.
Still, I feel like I have to defend my line of thinking, even though he doesn’t ask it of me. “I guess I’ve been okay being a known ass, because at least I wasn’t shallow. After Ava broke up with me and started talking shit in those interviews, I could justify it. Fine. I’m a jerk. I am arrogant and impossible to get along with. It didn’t matter what she said or thought because I had the moral high ground.”
“You know Ava is a selfish, petty bitch, right?” Martin’s voice is uncharacteristically harsh as he says this.
“Yes. That’s what you keep telling me.”
