The New Math part III . The unknown

I met Danny on-line.

I met Danny because I liked his myspace pictures. In one, he was holding an axe, with one foot resting on a tree stump. He was wearing a bright blue shirt, glasses, and a toque. He looked like an extremely scrawny lumberjack. In another picture shot from above, he was looking up while sawing a log. He was squinting into the camera and his teeth stuck out like a rabbit’s. He struck me as unintentionally manly.

I emailed him, “Nice axe .” He emailed me back. After about a month of periodic correspondence on myspace, Danny told me he was going to Boston for several months on an internship. We didn’t email. In fact, we lost touch altogether. In the interim, I met a man and had a tragic romance.

I emailed Danny again when my tragic romance ended.

He said, “I thought we broke up as myspace friends.”

I wrote back, “True love forever.”

We kept in touch regularly after that. Danny began to email me every day. Sometimes twice a day. He asked for my regular email. I gave it to him, but continued to use the myspace email. Then, he asked for my msn. I told him I don’t turn it on. Then, he asked me to meet up in person. When I didn’t respond to that, he asked me again. After a third request, I finally relented. I told him a concert I was going to. He showed up. At the time, I was in love with someone else, the start of another tragic romance. We didn’t stand near each other or even talk very much to each other. The whole night, I was waiting for the man I liked to show up, but he never came. When the show was over, I drove Danny home. He didn’t ask me to come up to his place nor did I ask to go up.

Although we corresponded frequently, it was only a few minutes in my day. I didn’t go out of my way to contact him. I didn’t have to do anything because he was always taking the initiative. I didn’t even think about him until he went away to Vancouver for two weeks. He didn’t contact me and I missed him.

“I think I have a crush on Danny,” I said to my roommate. “I miss him.”

“I think he likes you,” she said.

“I don’t know,” I said, “What makes you say that?”

She wasn’t sure.

On his last night there, he sent me an email from a youth hostel in Vancouver . He wrote, “I am writing you while drunk in a youth hostel. I better stop before I start talking dirty.”

If I was uncertain about my crush, I was certain now. The thought that he liked me sustained my happiness for the next three days, when he was expected to return.

“He’s going to be my boyfriend,” I told my roommate.

The morning of Danny’s return, I received an email from my ex-husband that was mailed at 5:36 a.m. The subject line said, “Good news” to which I thought, “Must be bad.” I opened the email. “How are you? I have good news. Jill is pregnant.” Jill was his girlfriend of maybe a few years. They started going out the week I told Jacob I wanted a divorce. Now they were pregnant. I was not jealous, but I instantly thought of the way people drowned kittens by putting them in a sack with a stone and throwing the sack off a bridge into a river. How had he come so far, while I had bad hair? I couldn’t believe someone wanted to have a baby with the lying, cheating, irresponsible wretch. She already had two children from a former marriage – perhaps she saw Jacob as her only salvation. Perhaps they were on the rocks and she got pregnant to secure his affection and commitment. They weren’t married, at least not yet. This must be some duplicitous ploy on her part to keep him. I wrote back to him, “I am happy for you. You will make a great father.” What I didn’t write was, “I am sad for me.”

Danny called me when the night he came back from Vancouver .

“Let’s get a drink,” he said.

“I could use one,” I said, since it was true, but I didn’t like to drink. I preferred to wallow instead.

We met at a bar in the Old Port. Danny was already there, drinking a Guinness. I sat opposite him. The waitress came by and asked me what I want.

“This place has really great martinis,” Danny said.

“I need a moment,” I said to the waitress. “Do you have a drinks menu?”

The waitress got me a drink menu. I began to study it. I didn’t know one drink from the next. What would be sweet? What would be sour? If I drank six times a year, it was a fairly alcoholic year for me.

“I could get a beer,” I said.

“The Guinness is great,” Danny said.

“Or I could get a martini.”

I kept reading the menu. I was silently deliberating because I didn’t know one drink from the next.

“You’re reading that menu like you’re reading Sanskrit,” Danny said.

“I want something sweet, but not too sweet,” I said, “I’m not much of a drinker.”

The waitress came by. I told her what I was looking for and she said she’d make me a special drink.

“A special drink for a special lady,” Danny said. His foot grazed my calf.

“That’s so cheesy,” I said. “Tell me about how you are going to talk dirty to me.”

“I don’t think I can do it to your face,” he said.

“Are you normally this shy?” I asked.

He looked down at his lap or maybe his hands.

“I like shy,” I said, “Maybe after a few drinks, you can just say the first word of every dirty sentence.”

He put his hand on mine and looked into my eyes. Danny was going to be my next boyfriend. I was sure of it.

“I. Don’t. Can. I. That. Don’t. Don’t. Yes.”

“Not bad,” I said. “Sounds promising.”

My drink arrived. It was large and green.

The waitress said, “This is a Green Fairy.”

I sipped it. It tasted like lime sugar. Too sweet, very strong. Not remotely what I had in mind. I smiled at the waitress to let her know it was perfect.

Halfway through the drink, I was drunk. Danny kept rubbing his foot against my leg. He’d even take off his sandal. He was wearing socks and sandals and I found that very attractive too.

“Let’s make out in the bar,” I said, “Or in the bathroom.”

“I’m too shy,” Danny said.

“Then keep drinking,” I said. “Here, have the rest of this. I’m already drunk. I don’t think I can walk a straight line to the bathroom.”

I got up to demonstrate and walked to the bathroom. When I came back, I sat next to Danny.

I slurred. “You know, I’m pretty drunk, but I really do like you.”

Danny put his hand on my cheek and we began to kiss. I threw one leg over his lap and we made out in the bar like that, drunkenly kissing each other, until it was last call. There was no one in the bar anyway except the waitress and the bartender and a man sitting by himself near the back.

“Do you want to go home?” Danny asked.

“I’m not going to let you up to my place,” I said, “I’m not that kind of girl.” Which was a lie.

“Well, I’m going to walk you home anyway,” he said. “I want you to get home safely.”

“That is so nice,” I said. I waved my hand and it took its own haphazard course through the air. I said it again, “That is so nice.” My words were slurred. I was so drunk.

“I’m a nice guy,” Danny said.

“You’re so nice that I might even change my mind if you say you’ll talk dirty,” I said. Some of the shit that comes out of my mouth! By the time we got to my place, we were still completely drunk so he came upstairs. Then, we fell asleep.

I woke up and opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. Jacob was going to be a father. I was angry. Fucking Jacob, a dad. Then I remembered Danny and the martini. I had no headache, but how much of a headache can you get from one and a half strong martinis? Danny was still asleep in the bed next to me. I thought to myself, “I’d say a Hail Mary, only I don’t do that since I’m Jewish.” Danny through his arm over me. “Sleep,” he mumbled. I was pleased. Maybe all recent events were part of some cosmic plan that the day Jacob and I let go of each other, someone new would come into my life. There he was, asleep in my bed with his face mashed against the pillow and his glasses on my nightstand. I hadn’t changed out of my clothing from last night. I smelled of martini and sweat.

“Hey, Danny,” I said.

“Unnnnnnn,” he responded.

“Do you have to go to work?” I asked him. Danny had a job at a computer company.

“I have to go to work,” he groaned, “And I want to shower. What time is it?”

“I dunno. Um. 6 a.m. I think.”

“I gotta go home,” he said. “I want to shower too.”

“You can shower here,” I offered. “I think I have a towel.”

“I have to change too,” he said. “I can’t go to work like this.”

“Well, my shower sucks,” I said, “You’re better off showering at home.”

It was evident that he planned to shower at home anyway.

He propped himself up on his elbows and said, “Come here.”

I sat down on the bed next to him.

“No, no, no,” he said, “Come on top of me.”

I straddled him. “Yes?”

He kissed me and as he did, he put his tongue in my mouth. I started to laugh, because it surprised me.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Oh. Total. Joy. A man, a man I was attracted to no less, just called me beautiful.

“Thank you,” I said, resisting the urge to deny it.

“I gotta go,” he said, “But I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, I said.”

He got up and meandered to the door.

“Have a good day,” I said.

He kissed me again and said, “You too.” Then he headed down the hall to the elevator.

“Bye,” I said.

“Bye,” he said, “You’re beautiful.”

I shut the door. I walked away to get a glass of water. I peeped out the peephole, hoping he would be looking back at the door, but he wasn’t. He was staring up at the lights that indicated what floor the elevator was on. He had his hands on his hips and one foot forward of the other. He was still manly.

I checked my computer first thing for a message from Jacob. I was hoping he would write that Jill miscarried or that she got her period late. There was no message from him at all. I opened his email of the previous day and re-read it over and over. I wanted the letters to change. I wanted it to say anything but what it said. Somehow, his having a girlfriend hadn’t bothered me, but having a baby was a point of no return. Divorce was a formality. A new life status was not.

The good thing about sex is that you feel it on you the next day. It was Monday and I was still collecting unemployment. I had an interview the next day, and the only thing in my calendar was to research the company before the interview. I could take my time. I sat in my shower and let the hot water spray all over me, pretending it was Danny’s hands. I rubbed my own breasts and arms and thighs. I opened my legs to let the water hit me on the labia. I was going to have sex on a regular basis. I was going to have a new boyfriend! I put on my airiest dress and floated through the day. I smiled at strangers on the street and said hello to people. Most of them smiled and said hello back. I spent my afternoon in a coffee shop, using my laptop to research potential new teaching jobs. I started writing cover letters. I was halfway through my unemployment term. I needed to find a job.

I checked the computer before I checked the phone when I came home. Nothing from Jacob or Danny. I checked my sent mail folder to see if I had indeed responded to Jacob’s email. I had. I started to write a second email to him. I wrote, “You must be so excited” but then cancelled it. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to say, “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” Then I checked the phone. I had expected Danny to call and say he had a good time. There were no messages. I scrolled through the caller ID to see if anyone had called all day. No one.

“He’s at work,” I told myself. “Of course he didn’t have time to call.”

He didn’t call that night or the next day. I figured two days if he was playing cool, though a few friends advised I should give it a full week. Considering the pace of our earlier correspondence, a same day response seemed correct, but I waited. When two days had passed, I was obsessive and anguished. I checked my myspace page until 4 in the morning, every ten minutes or so, waiting to see if he came online. Either he only checked his page briefly inbetween those ten minute intervals or he did not go online. I wondered if he had a statcounter, to see who had visited his page. I considered googling his name, to find out more about him. Perhaps he had a blog or a web page and I could find out more about him. I read through our old correspondence, looking for clues that he was only interested in sex. I could not understand how a person’s interest could change as quickly as the wind. I wanted to kick myself for not asking him all the pertinent questions when I was able to.

.

Of course, no answer would suffice. No call meant he really didn’t like me that much. A person’s interest can be measured by how quickly they call. If they call immediately, they are in love. If they call after a day, it’s definite chemistry. If they call after two days, it’s someone trying to be cool, but interested. If it takes longer than that, they are only maybe interested and likely have a few other things on the go.

After a few days of isolating myself at the computer in every spare moment, I realized that it was futile to wait or research anymore. I had to return to life and accept defeat and realize that this obsessiveness was borderline deranged. I wanted to know what happened – I didn’t want to stalk him. I didn’t really want to know all kinds of things about him. I just wanted to know why he didn’t call and if this was typical for him, or if I did something wrong. But, it didn’t look like my answer would come. So, I went out. I walked down to the French part of the city, thinking I might find a good croissant. After walking in and out of ten different bakeries, I realized I didn’t want a croissant. I felt sad and disappointed. Worse, I felt completely rejected and used. About a block from my house, I decided to stop in a local coffee shop and get a chocolate chip cookie since the croissants weren’t to standard. As I studied the pastries in the case before me, I heard a voice calling my name behind me.

I turned around. It was Danny.

“Hello, stranger,” he said.

“Hey, Danny,” I said. If I was angry, I was not able to muster it. I was excited to see him. I felt my heart ballooning in my chest, floating up and up and up…

“ Funny meeting a girl like you in a place like this,” he said.

“What have you been up to?” I asked.

“Oh, busy with work,” he said, “Someone cancelled and I had to fill in. I had to do some paperwork. Boring things. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay. I kind of got some serious news from a friend.”

I didn’t want to mention Jacob by name. I wanted to pretend I had no history, no past with Danny.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“No, not really. I thought I’d hear from you,” I said and surprised myself.

“It’s just a lot going on,” he said.

“I understand,” I said. But I knew that it wasn’t going to work the way I wanted it to. Danny was probably not going to be my boyfriend.

A surge of anxiety welled up in me. “I have to go,” I said.

“You didn’t get anything,” Danny said.

“I really have to go,” I said.

Danny went to kiss me on the lips, which surprised me, and I stepped back, knocked over a chair, turned, and fled.

Why was he in the coffee shop near my apartment? He didn’t even live in this part of town.

There was much to think about now. Danny was obviously in this part of town because he wanted to see me. But why hadn’t he emailed or called? Why was he giving me lame excuses about being busy. We’re all busy. We’re never too busy to contact someone we just had sex with. Was he waiting for me to contact him? There were so many unknowns in the equation.

Danny called me up. He said, “I think I owe you an explanation.”

We met at a bar down the block. I ordered diet coke. No martinis.

Danny sat with his hands stiffly at his sides.

“There were some things I didn’t tell you,” he said.

“I think I figured that part out on my own,” I said.

“Well, I had a girlfriend and we broke up. She cheated on me,” he said.

“Okay.”

“You emailed me when we were still kind of together, but then we broke up and I went on that internship.”

“Right.”

“When I came back, I wanted to start a new life. And I liked you. I had a crush on you. But I started to see my ex-girlfriend again.”

What could I say? “Does that mean you are going to get back together?”

“I’m not sure,” he said.

“I understand,” I said. And I knew what I was then and it was okay because everything seemed balanced on both sides, at least for the moment.