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We sit back down, and he scoots his chair closer to mine, leans against me, resting his hand on my shoulder. As usual, I sink into him as he whispers sweet nothings into my ear.
‘We’ll have a long engagement and get married after my residency.’
The bubble of excitement I just felt bursts… that’s not a sweet nothing. ‘After your residency?’ I ask meekly. Now, I realize that I was just shocked at his unexpected proposal, but now he wants to get engaged, without a ring, then leave for medical school and do this long distance for years before finally tying the knot? That’s three to five years, depending on what he specializes in. And that currently feels like a lifetime. I can imagine my future conversations.
‘You’re engaged? Let’s see the ring.’
‘Oh, I don’t have one, yet.’
‘When’s the big day?’
‘No date set, right now we live on opposite sides of the country until he’s done with his medical residency when I’m thirty.’
Right now, he wants to be a general surgeon, specifically an emergency room general surgeon. He’s been staying in Portland with his parents while on break between terms but leaves this weekend to start said residence in Boston. He’s returning to his real life – a place where I don’t exist. I’ve been desperately trying not to think about it. But deep down, I’ve wondered if maybe my dad is right; I’m a fling for Conner – something to ‘do’ while on summer break. But he just legit proposed. I don’t feel like that’s something guys do unless they mean it. I’ve got to be more than a fling.
‘We’re engaged!’ Conner announces excitedly, lifting his beer at his success in bagging a fiancée then kissing my cheek.
The whole room falls silent – momentarily, while it sinks in – then my family erupts into semi-enthusiastic chatter. Most of them don’t even remember his name, and one, in particular, doesn’t look enthused.
There he sits, silently beside Laney, stroking his graying beard – his go-to move when considering something troubling him. A mood I’m not thrilled to see today because I have bigger issues. I’m engaged! This is a big deal. Surely, Dad gets that! I’ll smooth things over with him later. For now, I tap my drink to Conner’s and answer the battery of questions surrounding me. I’m getting married?!
2
RIVER MATTHEWS
‘Jade,’ Mercy says as we approach the Black Tide Tiki room bar counter.
I stumbled into this bar a few months ago – a tropical paradise in the center of rainy Portland. It’s like walking into a temporary vacation. It’s full of island-y things, including hula bartenders, of which Jade is one.
Three walls are covered with giant beach photo scenes – floor to ceiling as if you’re in a bar on the beach. A white noise machine plays soft ocean wave sounds, setting the tropical mood. Net and sea floats hang from the ceiling, and a colossal swordfish I was told the owner, Jameson, caught himself, is stuffed and hanging from the rafters over the entrance. I wouldn’t want to swim into one of those in the ocean. In the center of the room is an atrium full of tropical plants and colorful chattering birds. Six-foot-tall tiki statues are sporadically placed around the room and wearing dozens of leis that patrons leave. The drinks are on brand, too, with vintage tiki glasses complemented with tiny umbrellas, tropical fruit as garnish, and, more often than not, fire. Once you’ve had a few, you’d never know you were in Portland. Plus, it’s not far from my apartment, so I can have a drink, or three, then safely walk home.
They occasionally hire musicians to play tropical tunes to set the mood, and tonight it’s Mercy on the ukulele – a gig I landed for her – and since this place has become my fave local bar, I come with, so I’m not sitting at home alone watching UFO Hunters again.
‘Hey you two!’ Jade greets us with a grin on her pretty face.
You know those bartenders who click with everyone, remember your name, and people pour their hearts out to? She’s one of those. Only, she’s also a talker, so she doesn’t just listen, she talks. I’ll admit that I first spoke to Jade because she’s beyond gorgeous. Perfect curves, five six-ish, long caramel brown hair, big brown eyes, and looks good, like really good, in her hula girl uniform. I now overlook that she’s wearing a bikini top and grass skirt in front of me because this is not a strip club (something I’ve heard the girls tell men during previous visits).
Before she approaches us at the bar, she grabs a bottle of our favorite tequila and three shot glasses. As she pours the shots, she looks me over suspiciously, as if something is wrong. Tequila spills onto the bar between glasses as her jaw drops.
‘You cut your hair!’
I shake my head. ‘Just an undercut. I’m still sporting the man-bun you all make fun of.’ I turn to display it as she nods with approval.
She leans towards me, the bar separating us. In a soft voice, she says, ‘I like the man-bun. Never get rid of it.’ There’s a sparkle in her eyes from the lights above. The way she smiles says she truly means it.
‘Yeah, it’s very Portland hipster, bud.’ An elbow in my ribs earns a groan and a familiar chuckle invades my head.
Ugh. Conner – Jade’s boyfriend. I didn’t even notice the guy; that’s how ‘normal’ he is. You know the kind of guy I’m talking about. The ones you can find in any bar, dressed business casual, acting like trust-fund frat boys, exaggerating whatever story they’re telling to impress their equally loser-y friends. He blends into the background while I wear bright red skinny jeans and my father’s old leather jacket over my favorite vintage Duran Duran T-shirt. Not that ‘normal’ is bad, it’s just a little boring and Jade is far from boring. The woman is prancing around the place delivering drinks with a smile, in a freaking hula skirt and bright pink bikini top – every night she wears a different top, not that I’ve noticed. (Shut. Up.) – a lei around her neck and a flower behind her ear. She is absolutely out of Conner’s league.
‘Was that supposed to be a compliment?’ Mercy snaps at Conner, pulling her ukulele from the case and handing Jade her things. I can always count on Mercy to both tease and attempt to protect me. It’s what she does for her chosen family.
‘He’s kidding,’ Jade answers for him, resting her hand on his, flashing a ‘be nice’ look in his direction. ‘Guess what?’ she asks me as Mercy downs the shot poured for her.
A guessing game? I’ll play. Perhaps Conner’s decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and overcharge people for homes. I suppose it’s no secret that I don’t love the guy. Jade talks about him a lot. Conner is so great. Conner is so smart. Conner is so sweet. Conner. Conner. Conner. Thing is, she never looks truly happy while she talks about him. It’s almost like she’s trying to convince herself. One night he walked in while we were talking and maybe she thinks I didn’t notice, but I saw her face drop when she saw him.
‘Has Conner selflessly joined Doctors without Borders and is headed for Guatemala to help save lives?’ I say hopefully, making Jade laugh.
Conner doesn’t. Instead, he leans in, speaking directly into my ear in a tone just above a whisper. ‘Why would I leave the country to help someone else when there’s plenty of money – er, people to be helped here?’
