Second Helpings (18 page)

Im just joshin, Marcus said when the din died down. See? He then lowered the waistband of his jeans so we could all get a totally gratuitous look at his boxers. More whoops, cackles, and wolf whistles, but only from Gladdie this time.

So are ya in or are ya out? Moe asked, holding up the cards. He was clearly put out by Gladdies fondness for the youthful patch of flesh above the boxers and below the navel. And so was I, quite frankly. So was I.

Thank you, Moe, but Im not in the mood for cards. Gladdie, do you mind if we escape to your room for some good old-fashioned girl talk?

But its so pleasant out here with the boys! Gladdie said, flirtatiously placing one hand on Marcuss hand, and the other on Moes. Dontcha want to stay awhile with Moe and Tutti Flutie?

Oh, Christ. I really was too late. Tutti Flutie had already charmed the hell out of my grandmother. And my grandmother, being who she is, wouldnt want to give up a single second of attention from a male more than seven decades her junior.

I declined with as much grace and dignity as I could muster.

Looks like youre back in, Irene, Moe said.

Irene lifted her finger and twirled it in the air in the universal signal that means Whoop-dee-do. I think I would like Irene if I got to know her.

Gladdie, Moe, Irene, its been a pleasure. Ill see you again soon. Then I turned to Marcus. May I have a word with you please?

Sure, he replied, without making a move.

You know, Id forgotten that Marcus can be a huge pain in the ass when he wants to be, which is all of the time.

Oh, you mean in private?

Yes, I mean in private.

Ohhhhh he said, as if all the worlds mysteries had just been answered. He gave everyone at the table a knowing glance. It must be about Len, then.

Gladdie, Moe, and everyone else oohed and ahhed. Obviously, someone had already informed them about Len.

Its not about Len, I said. Its about you.

An even louder chorus of oohs and ahhs.

You know what? Forget it.

As I walked out of the rec room, I recalled how I once thought Silver Meadows was like college. I was wrong. Its more like preschool. Im now thoroughly convinced that maturity starts to reverse itself as you close in on a century of life.

the sixth

I had no choice. Really.

I wanted to talk to Gladdie alone. I had to talk to her in person because she refuses to pick up the phonethe only proof of a genetic connection between us.

I needed to know whether Marcus would be working today. If the answer was yes, Id postpone my visit. Normally, I would ask Len. Hey, Len. Do you know if Marcus is working at the fogues home today? Simple as that. Only it wasnt so simple anymore. Inquiring about Marcuss whereabouts would be rather insensitive, you know, if what Marcus said about Len liking me is true.

This is what happened when I called Silver Meadows to find out if Marcus Flutie was working today:

WHAT?! a Geritolic gentlemans voice yelled into the phone. YOU WANT TO KNOW IF THE MARKET PHOOEY IS WORKING TODAY?

No. I want to know if Marcus Flutie is working today.

MARKET PHOOEY? WHAT IN THE HECK IS THAT? SOME KIND OF NEW-FANGLED SLANG?

No. Its the name of a guy who works

The voice consulted someone in the background. HEY, DORIS! DO YOU KNOW WHAT IN THE HECK THE MARKET PHOOEY IS? I GOT A GAL ON THE PHONE ASKING IF THE MARKET PHOOEY IS WORKING TODAY.

I hung up the phone. They really shouldnt let the residents answer the front desk phone when Linda is taking a cigarette break.

So, as I said, I had no choice.

Hey, Jessica, Marcus said, after the second ring.

This totally threw me off. I hadnt anticipated the possibility that the phone would betray my identity, which is moronic on my part, since its not like Caller ID is some super high-tech innovation in telecommunications. I had hoped he would pick up and say Hello like a normal person. And I wouldve said, Yes. Hello. Is the Game Master there? which wouldve shown him that I wasnt intimidated one bit.

Jessica?

Uh. Hey. Hi. Uh

Damn that Caller ID!

I assume youre calling to have our overdue conversation about Len, he said.

What?

Isnt that how it works?

How what works?

How it works. Dating.

Im not following you.

The girl goes through the best friend to get the guy?

Stumped. I knew I was the girl in the scenario.

Stymied. But who was the best friend?

Stupid. And who was I trying to get to?

I let you in on the open secret about Lens affection for you. I did that because he isnt too confident with the ladies and would never get around to telling you himself. Thats why I stepped in. He needs my wisdom. He needs my help.

Flashback : A conversation with Marcus last fall, back when our midnight phone calls used to soothe my insomnia. Subject : What Marcus did to pass the time now that he didnt drink or drug anymore. Answer : I use my wisdom to help Len get laid.

Hes using his wisdom to help Len get laid.

Are you using your wisdom to help Len get laid?!

He chuckled. Hey, whatever happens between you two is your business, not mine. If theres one thing Ive learned about dealing with you, Jessica Darling, its that I shouldnt get too involved in your personal, private business.

This was unbelievable. Hes crazier than Mariah Carey on the Glitter press junket.

Dont you think its sort of a conflict of interest? I asked.

What?

Less than a year ago, you wanted to get into my pants!

Thats not fair, Jessica, he said. First of all, it was ten months ago, which is Paleolithic by high-school relationship standards. Second, your pants werent the only thing I was trying to get into. And third, when you said Fuck you, I took it as a subtle hint that you didnt want anything to do with me anymore. So even if I wanted to get into your pants at one point in time, I had to stop.

Stop what?

Wanting.

Oh.

So theres no conflict of interest.

Then he proceeded to tell me that he and Len have gotten tight over the past year, especially when he joined the band this summer. After many rehearsals, Len finally confessed to Marcus that he admired my intelligence and my bravery for standing up for myself in my editorials (R.I.P.). He also happened to think that I was quite attractive. So Marcus revealed that we had been sort of friends last year, and knew quite a bit about me. Then Len begged Marcus to help him woo me or whatever and Marcus agreed. Now here we were.

But I didnt give him details about all the things we talked about, he said. I gave him generalities. Let him find out the juicy stuff for himself.

Marcus, why are you doing this?

Because thats the way dating works. Lens my friend. Youre my well, we were friends, and now were friends on the mend. If I can help you and Len get together, why shouldnt I?

Why shouldnt he, indeed? There was no reason why this shouldnt be true, other than the fact that it came from his lips. I couldnt quite buy it. This whole conversation was just too logical to be right. His answers came too quickly, too correctly. It made the whole thing suspect. I just knew that Marcus wasnt telling me everything, but I wasnt about to beg him for details.

I guess so.

Then, right as the conversation was drawing to a closeBAM! instantaneous mental clickage. I dont know why I didnt think of it sooner. This insight didnt give me all the answers, but helped me muster just enough moxie to have the final word.

Again, I must compliment you on your costume.

You liked it.

You saw the DVD at my house, so you knew that I would, I replied. But theres just one thing that doesnt make sense.

And whats that?

Well, if youre really looking out for Lens best sexual interests, I cant help but wonder why you didnt tell him to dress like Leon to impress me. Think about that for a while.

And I hung up.

Marcus doesnt really want me with Len! He only wants me to think he wants me with Len!

Why???!!! I have no idea! But it doesnt matter right now! Victory is mine! Im too excited! I must stop this abuse of exclamation points!

Calm down .

I won the phone call outright. By the way, it felt better than every first place in a race combined and multiplied a bizillion times over. It was only after I put the phone down that I remembered that I never found out whether he would be at Silver Meadows today. I decided not to risk my champion status with a rematch and stayed home. Gladdie wouldnt miss me. Shes got Moe to keep her company.

the tenth

Marcus has backed off ever since I blew a hole in his Im helping Len alibi. Silently and simultaneously, we decided to take a nonantago-nistic yet not-quite-tight approach to dealing with each other. We talk, but not really .

Hey, Jessica, he says.

Hey, Marcus, I say.

Hows Len? he asks.

Lens fine, I reply.

Thats good, he says.

I guess, I say.

And so it goes.

At the same time, Len has stepped up. This is not a coincidence. Hes been going out of his way to talk to me more. In class. In between classes. At lunch. Hes called me twice. I did my part by not being phone phobic and picking it up when I saw his name. The second time, he asked me out on a sort of date. Not a real date. A sort of date.

Um. I know you cant run anymore. But would you like to go hiking? Urn. With me?

It was all very sweet, so I said sure. My defenses must definitely be down.

So todaymuch to my mothers delightLen and I went for a long walk around the windy, sandy trails of Double Trouble Park. Its really the perfect time of year to do something like this, because the leaves are as vibrant and varied as the sixty-four box of Crayolas. Theres that crisp hint of chill in the air that reminds you that winter is coming and youd better get outside while you still can without freezing your ass off. Perfect cross-country weather. While I dont miss the team one bit, I have missed being outside and moving my body and feeling alive.

Len and I walked for two hours. And we talked. A lot.

The actual content of our conversations isnt necessary to rehash here, as they can always be traced back to the headlines in The New York Times . (If youre interested, just check the NYT archives for November 7 through November 10, 2001.) Lens end of the conversation always takes one of two forms: (1) long-winded and rambly or (2) start-and-stop stuttery. Hes very dependable in that way.

My reaction varies.

Sometimes I can get past the shoddy presentation and focus on what hes saying. When I listen, I appreciate that Lens observations are intelligent and almost scientific in their factual accuracy. Spontaneous or emotional, they are not. Still, they are a far cry from the gaseous emissions that pass as conversation among his male peers. I come away from the conversation better informed about current events.

Other times, I purposely tune out so I can just appreciate his cute-ness. I try to forget that this cute guy with the cute bangs falling oh-so-cutely into his cute eyes is Len Levy.

This is harder to do on the phone.

Most times, I think about how much easier my life would be if I could just fall madly, passionately in love with Len already. The end resultour mad, passionate lovewould more than make up for its less-than-romantic roots. Falling madly, passionately in love with Len would compensate perfectly for the fact that I only let him into my life to annoy Marcus, who, Ill repeat, just for the sake of clarity, doesnt really want us to be together, but only wants to make it seem like he wants us to be together , for reasons I can only attribute to the brain-fry incurred from his falling into one K-hole too many in middle school.

About halfway through our hike, we hit the Graffiti Bridge. I have crossed it a bizillion times on training runs, but Id never stopped there before.

Lets take a break for a second, I said.

We braced ourselves on the beam overlooking the water. The wood was weathered gray and carved with almost illegible initials and names. Len and I looked at the water in the kind of comfortable silence that only exists between good friends. It was nice, actually. The mud floor and cedar foam made the creek look like a dark, bitter brew swirling around in a cauldron.

I turned to him and said, Do you remember breaking my heart in third grade?

Urn. I did? What? Urn.

You did.

Then I reminded him how I gave him a Valentine and he didnt give me one in return, the first devastating event of my loser love life.

He looked at me very seriously. Im sorry I did that. Um. I would never do that to you now.

It was a very sweet thing for him to say. And if he felt like kissing me, it would have been the perfect moment for him to do it. But he didnt.