“I don’t get school pictures anymore,” I said. “So I guess I can kick your ass.”
“Mom!” Jeremiah yelled as if he were tattling on me. We all laughed again, and then my mom chimed in.
“Tyler, if you want a woman to take you seriously, you have to talk to her. No grunting, no nudging with your elbow. Use words,” my mom said wryly.
“I talk,” I said grudgingly.
“In monosyllables,” Jeremiah added.
“Just because you’re a motor mouth,” I began.
“Boys,” she said, “no fighting. I’m getting another call. Bye.”
“That was harsh. Our mom hung up on us,” Jeremiah said. I lifted one shoulder in a half shrug.
“What worked for you?”
“What?”
“With Maggie,” I prompted.
“Well, let’s see. She kept telling me what a douchebag I was, how I betrayed her…fast forward through that part…I bought a vineyard. That’s what worked for me. So, perhaps a large investment in property and a business plan?”
“Not in my wheelhouse,” I said.
“It will be once I convince you to be my general manager here. I need some responsibilities off my plate, and I need a guy I can trust. Plus, I think it would help get me a good deal with distributors if we mention my GM is an ex-Marine,” he said.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll think about it.”
Jeremiah studied me for a moment before speaking.
“Do what Mom said. Talk to her. Let her know you’re serious about her.”
“So should I go bother her at work where she doesn’t want anyone to know we were seeing each other or stalk her at her house?” I asked hotly.
“Those both sound creepy now that you mention it. I waited for Maggie in the parking lot by her car after work.”
“She should’ve pepper sprayed you,” I pointed out.
“I’m glad she didn’t think of it. She was pissed.”
“I didn’t piss Layla off.”
“Are you sure? Were you bad in bed?”
“No,” I said, “but I’m reconsidering kicking your ass. Do you have any real advice?”
“Let her know how you feel,” he said.
“I’m not writing a fuckin’ poem,” I retorted.
“You could always write a song,” he teased.
“Thanks a million,” I said, walking off.
Sure, I needed to talk to her. But since she walked out on me after sex, that sent a clear message. A message that wasn’t, please come find me so we can talk about a relationship.
While I worked and exercised, I was able to blot out the unease I felt over Layla. Later, when I was eating supper, I remembered what she said about journaling. About organizing my thoughts and letting that be cathartic. I had a shrink once who’d had me do that. I’d rather have my molars yanked out than try to keep a diary about my feelings. It’s one thing to respect therapy and the need for strategies to cope. It’s another thing to paint flowers and write poems about your sad little heart. I just wasn’t ever going to be that kind of guy.
There weren’t a lot of options as far as convincing her. I wasn’t going to meet with her at the health department where she was afraid of being caught having a personal involvement with me. That could do her harm and would certainly upset her. Going to her house was aggressive, especially waiting there.
I knew she had margaritas with Maggie and some other friends every week. Maybe I’d show up there and see if I could make things right. At least I could gauge how she reacted to me, if she never wanted to see me again.
I knew she wouldn’t be at the group therapy session, and I didn’t bother to attend. That was one thing she needed to know. She’d said that support group was her passion project. I wasn’t going to be the one to take that away from her. So I wrote a note letting her know that I wouldn’t be part of the trauma group any longer. She could have it back. I dropped it off at the health department. I didn’t even ask to see her.
The woman at the front desk asked my name, and I gave it.
“Let me see. I thought so. Tyler Leeds? If you ask for Layla, I’m to refer you to Alan, one of our counselors who has a background with veterans, so you can get private therapy with him.”
“I’m not here for an appointment. I just want you to give her the note.”
“Very well,” she said with a smile that was more of her baring her teeth than looking friendly, “have a good day.”
I rolled my eyes. Clearly Layla had some loyal friends on her side. I just couldn’t help being baffled about what I’d done to set her off. I knew she was unsure about where we stood, but I hadn’t thought she’d leave. It tormented me, and when I woke up now, I had that half-second where I expected to find her in my bed. Then there was the horrible rush of memory. She was gone, and her note had said she couldn’t be with me.
Days went by. I didn’t hear a word from her. I wasn’t going to ask Maggie about her like some lovesick junior high schooler. I just had to find out which night they went for drinks. When Jeremiah was doing his hard sell on becoming general manager, I asked him.
“What night does Maggie go out?”
“Usually Mondays. Why? Are you going to stalk Layla at the bar?”
“Maybe,” I said, “it was that or buy a vineyard, and beer is cheaper.”
“Smart ass,” he said, “good luck. Buy them an appetizer.”
“Will it get my foot in the door?”
“Probably not, but their wings are great.”
“You are no help,” I said.
So Monday I stopped working at six and took a shower. I drove to Cecil’s and ordered a burger and onion rings and watched my sister-in-law walk in arm-in-arm with Layla. I told myself to concentrate on the TV bolted to the wall or my damn food rather than staring at her. Maybe she’d catch sight of me and come over to say hi. Since she’d been avoiding me for a week, that was unlikely to happen, but it would’ve been more dignified to hope that. Instead, I kept my eyes trained on her every move. Her brown overall shorts, her red top, her hair coiled up in a messy bun. She slid into the booth, laughed at something. Put on reading glasses to look at the menu. I didn’t know she had reading glasses. They had a sort of sexy librarian look to them with her hair up like that. I drank my water and then glared at it. I was staring at her across a room in public. It was pretty damn sad.
I had told the bartender to send over some wings from me. It was a lame ass idea, but I had already stooped to asking for my brother’s advice. I might as well take it. My burger was good, and I ate it too fast, forgetting it was my reason to hang out there for a while. I tried to pick at the onion rings but there weren’t enough left. I ordered cheese fries just for something to do. I’d probably pass out trying to work out tomorrow from all the trans fats I was downing just to have a reason to stay and watch Layla.
I tried to look at the TV and not just stare directly at her like I was a serial killer. I saw movement from the corner of my eye and turned to see who was headed toward me. Not Layla but Maggie.
“Are you here to tell me to leave?” I said.
“I’m not telling you to do anything,” she said, sitting down next to me. “I’m just over here saying hi to my brother-in-law.”