“Thanks,” snorted Chad.
“And, you know,” continued Randy, “I don’t think this is about you and the way you smell. This is about her. I don’t think she’s ready, yet. For dating. ’Cause I don’t think she’s over Tim. It’s only been a couple months. And she’s tryin’ to get herself out there again, but she’s just not ready, you know. That’s all it is, pal.”
Chad didn’t say anything and just took a swig of his beer. And wondered if what Randy had just said was true. And decided that it definitely wasn’t and that Randy was just trying to make him feel better. “Whatever,” he shrugged.
Randy and Chad sat in the northern Maine silence and drank their beers.
And then Chad laughed a little and realized that he had actually come to enjoy telling Randy about his dating disasters. There had been several since they started dating again after their longtime girlfriends dumped them a couple years ago. Jenny Lovely broke up with Chad because she felt like she didn’t make him happy. And that didn’t make her happy.
And Kelly Clockadile broke up with Randy after they had a big blowout one night. She said she was tired of his temper.
So Chad and Randy found themselves single again. And they probably should have stayed single and done some work on themselves. But they weren’t the kind of guys who did work on themselves. Maybe because they didn’t like themselves very much.
So they started dating every chance they could. Because they thought they’d definitely like themselves better if they could find a couple of girls who liked them.
But none of them seemed to like them, for whatever reason—in Sally’s case, because she didn’t like the way Chad smelled.
“Anyway,” said Chad, “I told you it was bad.” He took another swig of his beer and belched impressively and then continued. “So, I’m guessin’ I’m the big winner tonight, huh? So … I get to pick tomorrow.” Randy and Chad went on most of their dates on Friday or Saturday nights. And they usually met up afterward to check in—and often to commiserate. And the one who had the worse date got to pick what they were going to do for fun the next day. And Chad was sure that his date had been worse that night, so he said, “And I pick bowlin’. We’ll go bowlin’ in Caribou, supper at the Snowmobile Club, coupla beers at the Moose Paddy, and just … hang out.”
He offered up his can of beer for a toast. And waited for Randy to toast him back.
But Randy didn’t.
So Chad toasted himself and chugged. And thought about how maybe he shouldn’t drink as much as he did. But it was the only thing that made him feel less sad. So he decided that he would think about maybe not drinking as much as he currently did another time. And he finished his beer and then tried—and failed—to crush his empty beer can on his head, because he had never quite learned how to execute that move. And then he got up and tossed his mostly crushed can into the brown paper bag that Randy had brought the beer in. And then he grabbed another beer and cracked it open and sat back down on his snow boulder. And he was about to ask Randy when he wanted to go bowling tomorrow when Randy calmly droned, “I didn’t say you’re the big winner.”
“Huh?”
“Did I say you’re the big winner?”
“No, but—”
“No,” interrupted Randy, staring out across the cemetery and into the Norsworthys’ potato fields and out at the horizon. “All that’s pretty sad, Chad, and bad, but you didn’t win.”
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t win.”
Chad knew there was no way that Randy could beat what had happened to him with Sally, so he challenged Randy. “You can beat bein’ told you smell bad?”
“Yup,” said Randy, still staring off into the distance.
Randy’s calm confidence intrigued Chad. And he said, “Well, then,” holding out his hand and offering Randy the floor.
Randy took a deep breath as if he was about to say something. But instead belched more impressively than Chad had. And then he sighed. And seemed really sad—sadder than Chad was, even. And Chad was shocked. Because he had never known Randy to be sad. He had known him to be angry. But never sad.
And Chad was about to ask him if he was okay when Randy grunted, “Mine’s face broke.”
Chad heard Randy. But didn’t quite understand what he had just said.
“Huh?” asked Chad, screwing up his face.
“Her face broke,” repeated Randy.
Chad let his head drop and tried to make sense of what Randy had just said. And then he turned back to Randy and repeated, “Huh?”
“You heard me. Finally friggin’ get to go out with Yvonne LaFrance and her face breaks.” Yvonne LaFrance lived in Portage and worked at the general store there, and whenever Randy saw her, he’d ask her out, and every time he did, she’d say she was seeing somebody. And she always was, because she was pretty and kind.
But a couple of weeks ago, Randy was ice fishing on Portage Lake and when he stopped by the store for a coffee, he said he still hoped he’d get a chance to take her out someday and she said, “How about someday soon?” And that someday soon turned out to be the Friday night when all the extraordinary things did or didn’t happen.
Chad tried to figure out what Randy had meant when he said that Yvonne LaFrance’s face had broken. “Her face…?” He couldn’t finish the question, because he was aghast.
“Broke, dude, it broke. How many times are you gonna make me say it?!” snapped Randy.
Chad wasn’t trying to make Randy keep saying that Yvonne’s face had broken. He was just trying to understand.
“Told you it was bad,” chuckled Randy sardonically.
And Chad wasn’t denying that it was bad. He was just trying to figure out how Yvonne’s face had broken. He sure hoped Randy hadn’t hit her. Randy had broken a lot of guys’ faces. Because he had punched them. Because they had made him mad.
But Randy would never hit a girl. Chad was sure of it.
“Well … how did her face break?” Chad asked, hoping it wasn’t as serious as it all sounded.
“When we were dancin’.”
The word dancin’ stuck to the air like a fly sticks to flypaper.
Chad and Randy did not dance.
Not even at their proms. Which is probably why their prom dates had dumped them on prom night.
“Dancin’?” Chad smirked.
“Yeah…,” Randy said, in a way that let Chad know he wasn’t happy about having gone dancing.
Chad conjured up an image of his best bud dancing and couldn’t help but laugh—hard. But not so hard that he couldn’t ask the all-important question, “Why the heck were you dancin’?!?”
“’Cause that’s what she wanted to do!” snapped Randy. “On our date! So I took her! Down to the Rec Center. They had a bean supper at five and then lessons at five thirty and then you dance all night. And they teach together dancing—how to dance … together. And we learned that thing where you throw the girl up and over your shoulder—”
“Whoa—what?”
“It’s just this fancy move she wanted me to try with her.” It wasn’t just Yvonne who wanted Randy to try it. Lalaine Deshain, the country swing dance instructor from Presque Isle, thought that Yvonne and Randy were really good dancing together. And she was particularly impressed with Randy’s ability, so she showed him how to do a complicated over-the-shoulder flip with Yvonne, because she thought he was strong enough and that they were both skilled enough to execute it. And then she supervised them when they tried it, and Yvonne faced Randy and put her left hand on his right shoulder and jumped up, and Randy guided her body with his right hand, and she glided over his back and over his head and she landed on her feet, facing him. And Lalaine gleefully shrieked, “Yes!” and told them to try it again, but to incorporate the fancy flips into the other moves they had learned. And then she went over to teach some less-skilled newbies some basics like the cuddle and the jitterbug step.