“Whaaaaat?” he calls from the other room.
“I need assistance.”
“For what?”
“Facing reality.”
Max walks into the bedroom. “Um, you’re paying me to assist you in your business, not guide you through an existential crisis.”
I laugh. “Like you’re really invested in matchmaking. You’re just getting a paycheck while you’re having your own crisis, if we’re being honest.”
“No, I really just need to pay the bills, actually. I’ve got everything handled.”
I laugh. His ex-girlfriend just sabotaged his life’s work and now he’s hiding from everything at JP’s house with me. “You’re definitely good at crises. Your methodical, scientific approach is calming.”
“Most of the time, women just like my body.”
“Well, that’s nice too.” It is a nice body. The man is genetically gifted. As I stare at Max, admiring the muscles outlined under his nerdy T-shirt, I remember that JP is on his way home. In a few hours my life will…be back to normal? But what is normal? I don’t think it’s a relevant concept for me anymore.
I groan like everything hurts and mutter something and make a noise like I might vomit. “Ohmygod, what am I gonna do about that date?” Then I start in with the involuntary groaning again. The waves are pushing me toward failure’s rocky coastline and I’m just about to go down. #TheGoodLife feels like an ironic statement on my prow.
“You’re set,” he said. “I gotcha covered, babe.”
I love the way he just called me babe, even if he didn’t mean it. I bet it just rolled off his tongue. I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m all heart eyes about it.
“I got a Groupon for the date tonight.”
A Groupon? As if I can send a trendy millionaire to some Groupon date at Dave & Buster’s. No one wants to go to Dave & Buster’s. I might as well send them to Chuck E. Cheese. “Max—” I start to say. It’s like he doesn’t understand anything. “Rich people want exclusivity.”
“I know it’s not ideal, but on short notice with no money? We’ve got limited options.”
“I’m scared to ask what it’s for.”
“I got a $100 voucher at a Brazilian steakhouse for $60, plus a couples massage.” He shrugs. “Sounds like a sweet date to me.”
Max is a simple creature. He sees the world in binaries: true versus false, right versus wrong, black versus white, eating out versus eating in, fine or not fine. He’s adorable and wrong and clearly not qualified to facilitate a romance. I pat his head like he’s a golden retriever.
“I just don’t think there’s any way to use a Groupon. What am I going to do, ask Jules to show it to the waiter so that he gets a discount when he pays? And is the place even Instagrammable?”
He nods. “I was thinking we could just have Crystal do that part. She can be in on it, right? And if we’re lucky, he won’t know what Groupon is.”
“I don’t know, Max. It doesn’t sound like it’ll work.”
Jules is trendy. The only way he’d go for the Groupon is if I said the steakhouse had the best lighting for selfies, or if he was really into irony. Maybe I can make Max’s plan work. Coffee first, though.
We head downstairs and Max passes me a cup of freshly brewed coffee over the large kitchen island. I take a stool across from him.
“You look better today,” he says. “Not that you didn’t look great yesterday. Just more rested.”
“I feel better except for the panic, dread, and anxiety.”
“It’ll be fine.”
They’re just words, but when he says them, I perk up.
“If you don’t like the Groupon idea, I have something else up my sleeve.”
I give him a go on look while I reach for the box of Sugar in the Raw on the counter and stir some into my coffee.
“So, if you drive down the Pacific Coast Highway past Laguna, there’s this little cove. I went there once and it was filled with these glowing jellyfish. It was incredible.”
My jaw drops. Now that sounds unique and romantic. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”
“I can’t really remember where it is.”
Never mind. Groupon it is. We can’t spend all day driving around looking for some jellyfish he saw once on the coast of California because, as we’ve already determined, we have zero time. Jellyfish probably aren’t even in season. Or maybe they’re always in season. At any rate, no to the jellyfish.
“I’ll take you to see the jellyfish someday.”
“That sounds lovely, Max.” And it does, no matter how improbable.
“I’m going to the lab this morning if you want to come,” he says. “I want to check out the software and see if there’s anything I can do to salvage it. I don’t think Fay would have wrecked it completely.”
And he’s come to his senses! I was always on Max’s side, but it’s nice when the person you vowed to support isn’t watching his dreams go up in flames just to stand by a principle.40
“I think she just wanted to make a point,” I say encouragingly.
“Well, I got her message loud and clear,” Max seethes.
I look at him adoringly. I’m sure he has no clue what drove Fay away.
* * *
On the way to the lab, Max continues to fixate on Fay. “I’m so over the breakup. That’s old news, but I don’t get it. We were working together. Why did she throw everything away, not to mention make a mess for me to clean up?”
“Maybe you never really knew her.” That’s obviously the answer. He can’t admit it, though. Based on his Instagram handle alone, I can tell that Max thinks he knows everything. In some ways he does. Brain injuries and logic games—Max is your man. Give him a crying woman in a grocery claiming to be fine, he’s like, “cool, you wanna hit Best Buy next?” He’s a genius intellectually and a basic bro emotionally, but it could be worse. It seems like I’m the opposite, so no big—he can do my homework and I can do his.
“I just can’t believe she would drop everything after so much personal investment. If we accomplished our goals, we could have published our findings in the top journals, gotten a patent, great jobs—the works.”
“I guess she decided she didn’t want that?” But that sounds wrong even to me.