“Yeah,” he rasps. “That was…amazing.”
Later, alone in my room, I try not to reminisce about our interaction and ignore the chemistry moments where, if we both weren’t seeing other people, I might call Moments with a capital M.
I’m fully aware this entire evening proves Charlotte’s suspicions right. I haven’t been trying hard enough to move on. Le sigh.
Ten
For Halloween, I should have chosen the Pinocchio costume. Thanks to Austin, the lingering guilt over lying to Ryan is as strong as the guilt for still not speaking to Charlotte. Instead of going to costume parties, I should stay home and atone for my sins. If I ever get to Ryan’s place, I plan to tell him the truth tonight.
“Hey, Roger,” I say, struggling into the back of his Uber car.
“Hey, Chloe. Let me get that door for you.”
He exits the car in a rush, and he’s very kind.
Because it’s a literal door I’m holding.
“Thanks for your help.” For sentimental purposes, I had the bright idea that Ryan and I would be Jack and Rose for Halloween. A romantic throwback to our time when he sketched me. My even brighter idea was to surprise Ryan with the best part of my costume—the infamous door.
You can’t be Rose without a door.
You also can’t get in a Honda with a door.
Mind you, it’s not a heavy-duty full-size door. It’s thin plywood I had specially cut at the hardwood store and painted myself, but it’s still too cumbersome for Roger’s car.
“It’s not going to fit,” I lament.
“I’ve got some rope in the trunk,” Roger says, after failing to make it fit in the back seat. “We may have to tie it on the top.”
It’s alarming he has rope, but again, kind of him to help me. Part of me wishes my date were picking me up—like Austin harped upon again before he left for work—so Roger wasn’t forced to assist me. Oh, well.
While I shiver in my empire waist gown—it’s a beauty with pink and white chiffon accents, and a matching sash—the chilly breeze undoes the curls I spent an hour perfecting to transform myself into Rose.
“I really appreciate this,” I tell him as he ties the knots to keep it in place atop the roof.
“No problem,” he says, tugging the rope. “It’ll take a tornado to blow this off.”
I glance up at the clear sky, splashed with shades of sunset. With my luck, one will appear out of nowhere and rip it off. Roger gives one last check to ensure the door stays secured, then we’re off.
“So a Halloween party, huh? You even dyed your hair. You look good as a redhead.”
“It’s a temporary color,” I explain, quite proud of the way it turned out. “I guess I could’ve picked something easier, but we have a little inside joke I wanted to expand on.”
“Nah. Always go for the harder option. Rewards aren’t as sweet when they’re not a struggle to achieve them.”
“You’re very wise. Wish I had your wisdom.” I sigh.
“Still having life problems?”
Since he asked, I tell him the things I’ve been holding inside this gorgeous gown. Things with Ryan are good. I’d like to report they’re great, but I can’t. It really is like dating myself, and we have great conversations about history and art, but…his mom, ugh.
She’s a lovely woman, bless her, but she wasn’t kidding about showing me how to fold his shirts. And that’s fine, but I can never do it to her satisfaction. The sleeves are never correct, and my lines are not crisp. It’s not like I took a course in retail clothes folding. Ryan seems to be okay with my performance under his mom’s tutelage, which begs the question, why isn’t he folding? Maybe because he’s always high?
Regardless, his approval of me only seems to spur Ruth to find more things wrong with my housekeeping abilities. I streak the mirrors, the bedroom carpet is going the wrong direction when I vacuum. And why am I cleaning his house, anyway? I don’t clean my own. Not that he would know, because we only hang out at his place.
On Sundays, with Ruth.
The rest of the time he’s busy working and painting and making a mess for me to clean. But it’s okay, because at the end of the day, he’s got a beard. And a very important job. But I am no saint since I lied to him and never fessed up. And I still haven’t spoken to Charlotte.
“Wow,” Roger says, when I’ve finally let it all out. “Wasn’t expecting all that. This is like ten years married kind of problems and you’re just dating. Is this the guy you texted about?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way.”
“No worries. You’re a trooper for hanging in there.” He shakes his head. “Let me just say this…it doesn’t get better. Might as well just tell him the truth cause you can’t build a relationship on lies. If you’re thinking he’s suddenly going to clean, he’s not. But sounds like you probably know this and are just dating his beard.”
“Well, no. I like him. And other than those things, I think this relationship is going well, so I’m determined to make this work.”
“Why? You don’t sound thrilled. Are you happy?”
Hm. “I’ll think about that.”
The rest of the ride Roger tells me about his side real estate business and again encourages me to move out. It’s so hard to avoid things when people keep bringing it up. After assuring him I’ll five-star him, even though he deserves a galaxy, I head up to Ryan’s, and don’t think about Roger’s advice because in my mind, if I think about it, I’m thinking about Austin, and I need to focus on Ryan. That may be my best excuse yet.
I knock on Ryan’s door. With my door.
“Oh, look at you,” Ruth says, with nary a smile. “Come in. Ryan’s still getting ready. He had an important call to take and I’m just doing some light cleaning.”
Ryan didn’t inform me his mom would be here, of course. I take a moment to digest that she’s in costume too. As...older Rose.
“Hi. Love your costume.”
In her gray wig and nightgown, she hustles over to a basket of laundry on the couch. “I don’t get many trick-or-treaters at my place, so I thought I’d come to Ryan’s to hand out candy while you two have fun at the party. They’re a blast. Last year, I went with him, but this year...” She leaves that sentence unfinished and it’s so awkward, I grab some laundry to fold.
“You look great,” I say. “Love your necklace.”
She stops folding to fondle the blue rock around her neck. “I went and picked up Ryan’s costume while he was working, so I grabbed this outfit for myself. Can’t give out candy without a costume.”
“Hey,” Ryan says.
I turn at the sound of his deep voice. Time slows to a crawl, like I just ate a mountain of edibles, as Ryan dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and black pants with suspenders hugging his broad shoulders, walks toward me.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
The piece de resistance of his costume leaves my chin on the floor. Ryan took the costume way too far. The shirt in my slack hand drifts to the floor.