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“Oh yeah?”
“Well, she’s always telling me to be cautious about it, but she’s still eager to hear how it goes when we meet.”
“She might be more disappointed then. This isn’t anything like how I imagined our first meeting.”
That causes Idaline to perk up. “How did you imagine it, then?”
How I imagined it is embarrassing. Tonight has been bad enough, so maybe I
should tell her. It might lighten the mood in the room. With a deep breath, I say, “In my mind, we meet up at a restaurant, somewhere nice, and have the best time of our lives. We reach every expectation we’ve ever had for one another, we realize we’re not that different in person, and there’s no disappointment.” I take another deep breath and look away from her. “It always ends with a kiss goodnight. What about you?”
“When?”
“What?” I ask, turning to look at her again since I don’t understand her question.
“What age? Thirteen? Fourteen? Fifteen? Sixteen? Seventeen? Eighteen? Nineteen? Twenty? Twenty-one? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? Twenty-four? Twenty-five? What age? I’ve imagined it so many times over the years with so many different scenarios, and some of them ended much sexier than a simple kiss goodnight.”
I stare at Idaline, my mind exploding. Sure, we’ve crossed the friendship line a few times, but not in a long while. With just a few words, Idaline has managed to take my soul, my limp, dying soul, and be its life support while I begin to suffer through the hell I’ve created for myself.
The way FC looks at me right now is dangerous. Hot and sultry, but dangerous. I twist to grab my notebook from the table behind the couch.
“What’s that?” FC asks.
“It’s my list of FC names. I write down all the names I’ve asked, so I won’t ask them again, and if I think of a name, I’ll jot it down to ask you later.”
“Let me see that,” he says, and I hand him the notebook. He smiles as he flips through the pages, running his fingertips over my handwriting. “Do you want me to go through and put an X by these for you while I’m here?”
“No!” I snatch it back. “That’s not how this works.” Flipping back to my most recent page, I say, “I want to ask you at least one right now, so,” I look at him, “Felix Carlos?”
FC already wears a grin and it stays as he shakes his head.
“Darn it,” I whisper, reaching for the pen and putting an X by those names. I put the notebook back in its place. “You know, I can take you home in the morning. I have to be at work by seven, so we’ll have to get up early, but I don’t mind.”
“If you really want to do it, then I won’t stop you, but you don’t have to.”
Do I want to spend an extra hour with him? Absolutely. Even if it means getting up way early.
“Tell me a secret, Idaline,” FC commands.
Every so often, he requests this of me. I don’t mind telling him something. Mostly because I always get a secret in return. The secrets aren’t always serious or deep, but it’s always something he didn’t know about me before and something very few, if any, people know about me.
My instinct is to tell something light and funny, but that is not what spills from my lips as I lean my head against the back of the couch and stare up at the ceiling. “I worry I won’t ever settle down.”
“Why? You’re a great catch, Idaline.”
I snort. “Yeah, something you catch and release. For the most part, I feel ready, but,” I shrug, “there’s no one to settle down with.”
“Your heart will let you know who he is; time is a fickle bitch, though. When life thinks you’re both ready, it’ll happen,” FC reassures me.
“What’s your secret?” I ask, not wanting to dwell on this for too long.
“I’m an alcoholic.” At this, I sit up straight, turning completely toward him as I crisscross my legs. “My mom worries I drink too much, but I’ve never actually admitted it out loud.”
So many things cross my mind. How long has he been an alcoholic? How bad is it? What does his girlfriend think about this? But I shove all of those aside and ask, “Well, do you want to get help and stop?”
FC sighs. “I can still get up and go to work the next day and…” His voice trails off as he shakes his head, now refusing to look at me. “I hate to say this, especially to you, but I don’t know, Idaline. The only thing it’s hurting right now is my liver.”
“Okay,” I whisper. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want help. “If you change your mind, let me know. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
