South Park © Matt & Trey.
This is going to be a 2shot, all in Stan's POV. Sorry a couple parts might be confusing because there are two girls named Wendy. Anyway, enjoy~ I'll post the second part next week.
1.
Everyone thought it was a bad idea when me and Wendy got engaged. Hell, there were times when I even had doubts. We were young and when it came to passion, we had little logic and reason. We were only in high school, but we were so in love it didn't matter what anyone else thought. We were eighteen when we got married. It was a small ceremony, with only close family and friends. Kyle was my best man. He had on a big grin, even though he wasn't so sure getting married at eighteen was the smartest plan.
I cried when I found out she was pregnant – they were mostly tears of fear. We were still only eighteen, just graduated from high school and newly married. I wasn't planning on thinking about children for at least a few more years, but things change when you least expect.
I'm twenty-three now. I don't regret getting married to Wendy. Even today, I love her. Our wedding was the best day of my life, her funeral was the worst. She died minutes after giving birth. Our baby was the last thing she saw and she smiled.
Mrs. Testaburger was in the room with me. She started screaming when the monitor flat-lined. There was so much blood. I knew something bad would happen. The doctors were so frantic. No one knew what went wrong. I was shaking. I took a step back and fell on my ass. I don't even remember getting up. I just remember that my parents took me to the family house. They didn't want me to go home to an empty apartment after something so horrible. My dad drove and my mom sat in the back seat with me, holding me tight as if she expected me to fall apart then and there. I didn't fall apart. I don't think I even cried that night, though I hardly remember. It hurts to remember, so I just don't.
Wendy's death affected everyone. Bebe was so heartbroken that her relationship with Kyle fell apart. They broke up shortly after. My relationship with Kyle fell apart, too. In a way, I broke up with him as well. We're no longer best friends. We're no longer friends. While I stayed in South Park, he went off to university with Kenny and Cartman. They came home for the funeral, offering me sympathies. I completely lost it when they lowered the casket. It's like it finally sank in that she was gone and I wouldn't see her again. My friends returned to university after the funeral and it's almost as if by leaving South Park, they could escape all the bad memories. They could leave them behind. They left me behind, as well… and there's a large part of me that hates and spites them for it.
I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to be a father. I didn't know how to keep being a friend, or a son, or any of that. When Wendy died, a piece of me died with her – the most important piece. Now I just feel hollow when I should feel whole. I just keep reminding myself that I was lucky to have had any time with her at all.
Kyle, Kenny and Cartman have been back in South Park for a few months. It's the end of summer now and they're all finished school. I haven't seen them, but Bebe told me. She said that she had dinner with Kyle a couple weeks ago, purely as friends. They tied up loose ends and rekindled their relationship in the form of a new friendship. I told her I was happy for her, but that was where the conversation ended. That's what I like about Bebe, she doesn't let things linger. She knows when to stop talking. She reads me like a book, which is nice because I'm not one for talking much these days.
"I'm home," I call after unlocking my apartment door and walking inside. It's a modest two-bedroom apartment. It's not lavish in any way, but it's quaint and perfect for a single father.
Bebe is there with an ever-present sympathetic smile. "How was work?" she asks.
"Fine," I tell her. "Thanks for babysitting."
She shakes her head and her blond curls bounce up and down. "You know it's never a problem."
"Hello, sweetheart," I coo at my daughter, who gives me a big, silly grin in return. She is the spitting image of her mother. We had discussed many possible names, but I knew that the right thing to do would be to name her after her mom. Wendy.
"We had supper," Bebe says to me. "She had a nap about four hours ago."
I turn to her and smile, "Great. Thanks a lot, really."
She waves a dismissive hand. "It's my pleasure, truly. Don't hesitate to give me a shout when you need a last minute babysitter. I'm only down the hall."
"You're the best," I tell her. "Really."
"I know," she grins playfully before sobering. "Hey, a bunch of us are meeting up at Token and Nichole's new house for a bit of a housewarming party. Do you want to join us? He told me to ask you."
I shake my head.
"Come on, Stan," she says, trying to convince me to go.
I shake my head again. "I've got my hands full." Not that I mind it. I quite enjoy it. I live for it.
"Bring your little girl…" Bebe suggests. "Kyle will be there. Kenny and Eric, too. Don't you want to see your old friends?"
I sneer at the mention of them. "Not tonight, Bebe," I say, trying not to let my distaste show.
"It's been five years, Stan…" she mentions carefully. "You're far too young to be a widower forever. You need to get out and meet people… your friends miss you."
"They're not my friends."
"They are!" she insists.
I could tell her that five years isn't enough time. I could tell her that ten years might not be enough time either. I could tell her that watching the person you're in love with bleed to death and die is worse than any physical pain… but I don't say that. Instead, I simply shrug my shoulders in a careless gesture. "I prefer to stay inside."
"Your daughter is five years old now," Bebe reasons. "She needs to be around people. You can't just keep her inside all day every day. It isn't healthy."
I close my eyes. "Not tonight, Bebe."
She relents sadly and says, "Fine."
2.
Summer break is over and Wendy starts school today. It's her first day and the morning is frantic. I get her ready, putting her school supplies in her purple backpack and making her something to eat. Bebe comes with me to drop her off. After a long hug and many photos, I send her off. I let out a sigh, watching all the children pile through the doors.
"She'll be fine," Bebe assures me, looking through the files on her digital camera. She works in a photo studio. She mostly takes family portraits, but she's done a few weddings and thanks to her, me and Wendy have got quite a few photo albums full of nice memories. She makes sure to document everything.
"It's funny," I say. "When I was young, I'd make fun of my parents for getting so sentimental and emotional about this kind of thing… but I get it now."
Bebe smiles softly. "Yeah, she's growing up pretty fast, isn't she?"
I nod. It feels strange. Time really does fly.
Since I work 9-5 from Monday to Friday, I can't be there to pick Wendy up after school. It makes me kind of sad, since it's her first day, but Bebe will be there for her. I think I'd honestly die without Bebe around. She's the best friend a person could ask for, I mean it. She keeps me on my feet and calls me out when I'm being too moody.
Around 2:30, Bebe shoots me a text telling me that Wendy seems in good spirits. That's a good sign. Her first day must've gone well. I'll ask her about it when I'm home.
When 5PM finally does roll around, I make my way back to the apartment. I park, walk into the building and make my way to the third floor. When I swing open the door, I'm greeted immediately and Wendy starts talking enthusiastically about how her day went.
"Do you like your teacher?" I ask once she pauses.
"Yeah, he's nice!" she exclaims.
"Good," I smile.
Looking back on Ms. Choksondik and Mr. Garrison, it's obvious that when I was a kid I had the worst teachers. A good teacher makes all the difference.
"I'm going to Token and Nic's again tonight," Bebe mentions. "You should come along this time. Bring Wendy. Everyone wants to see her."
I let out a soft sigh. "All right," I relent.
We take Bebe's car and drive to the richest part of town. Token and Nichole's house is the opposite of mine. It's very large and lavish and there are quite a lot of people here. I compliment them and their décor and they say how great it is to see me out and about. They fawn over Wendy for a minute before walking me into the living room, where Clyde, Red, Cartman and Kenny.
Cartman is still fat. That doesn't surprise me. Kenny turned into a bit of a pretty boy, but in a scruffy sort of way. He has a permanent grin on his face as he nods along to whatever it is Clyde is telling him. He looks really happy. Once he spots me, his smile widens and he waves. I hold Wendy to my chest and I can tell she's getting tired so I tell myself I won't stay long. I'm only here to make Bebe happy. I approach him slowly and my heart beats faster with each step. I don't quite know why. Maybe it's just because it's been so damn long.
"Stan," Kenny says my name. "It's really great to see you, man. You look good." I know he's probably lying, but the compliment is nice nonetheless. I have bags under my eyes. They've been there for a long time because I don't get much sleep these days.
"You as well," I say with a polite smile. I'm not being genuine. I spite him almost as much as I spite Kyle. Nonetheless, none of them notice how distraught I am.
"How long has it been?" Kenny asks.
"A long time," I tell him.
"Too fuckin' long," Cartman adds. "What've you been doing, Marsh? Hiding away?"
"Don't swear," I warn softly and Kenny elbows him, nodding towards Wendy, who is half conscious in my arms. I've gotten out of the habit of cursing. It was difficult at first. I often had to catch myself, but now I hardly even swear when I'm talking in my head.
"How old is she now?" he asks with a fond smile.
"She's five."
"Ah, so young," he sighs. "I remember we were already getting into serious trouble at that age."
I force a chuckle, recalling the beginning of the Trent Boyett incident. It's something we were somehow always able to escape from.
A few minutes later, a new face enters the room – a distantly familiar face that makes me palms sweat. He greets everyone with a big smile and I feel like punching him.
Kyle got tall, but he still looks much the same apart from the glasses. Those are new, but he's still got that wild, curly hair and those bright green eyes. I make an effort not to stare at him. Part of me hates Kyle. I hate him because when he was supposed to be there for me he wasn't. He was off at some stupid fraternity, probably partying it up while I was in South Park stressing out finances and raising a baby. The other part of me wants to hug him and admit I missed him.
"Stan Marsh," he calls me out. "Is that you over there?" Christ, he looks smug. He reminds me of a frat boy fresh out of college. The smug hasn't quite worn off yet.
"Broflovski," I greet him tartly.
"Oh!" Wendy suddenly exclaims and Kyle just smiles at her.
"What?" I ask, feeling like I'm left out of the loop.
"That's my teacher!" Wendy informs me.
Well, damn. "How nice," I try not to sound too bitter.
After the rest of the formalities, I don't say much else. I just listen to everyone chattering away happily, talking about "that one time in university" and whatever else. I don't really mind listening. Kenny and Cartman try to keep their insults PG. I guess the constant fighting hasn't changed, either. I'm somewhat relieved that they're still the same people. Kyle sticks to the classics by calling Cartman fat, lard-o, and retarded. Cartman proceeds to call Kyle fruity, Jewrat and homo. Though the insults hold no malice, I can't help but wonder if they hold any truth.
Suddenly, I feel Wendy shift against me. "Daddy, I'm tired," she says groggily, probably wanting nothing more than to be in her bed.
"I know, sweetie," I tell her, playing with her hair as she rests her head against my shoulder. "We can go home now." I stand up and announce my departure.
"So early?"Bebe asks.
"You can stay," I say. "I'll just call a cab."
"Oh, no, no," she insists. "I'll drive us back."
"If you want, I'll take you home," Kyle volunteers, digging his car keys out of his pocket. "I have to wake up at 6 in the morning so I need to turn in early."
"No –" I start to protest, but Bebe cuts me off.
"That works out." She smiles at Kyle and then smiles at me. She knows how much I hate him. She's doing this all on purpose.
"Perfect," Kyle says good-naturedly. He stands up a moment later and we bid everyone a goodbye for now. As we leave the house, I notice that Kyle is now taller than me. I only reach his nose. Funny, he used to be the smallest. I guess things change.
Kyle's car is red – red like his hair. He gets in the driver's seat, while I get into the passenger's seat and Wendy sits in between us. I give Kyle the directions to my house as he pulls out of the driveway. "So, what've you been up to these past few years?" he asks, lazily gripping the steering wheel like he's a well-seasoned driver.
"I've been working mostly," I say somewhat tartly. "I'm a secretary for the law firm your father works for."
"Oh, wow," he grins. "That's neat."
"Yeah," I murmur.
"Hey," he starts solemnly, frowning. "I'm really sorry I haven't been around. You needed a friend and I wasn't there."
"Tsk," I click my tongue. "Don't do this now… You're years late. If you cared at all about me, you would have apologized a long time ago." His grip on the steering wheel tightens and he knows I'm right. "I'm fine," I tell him. "I've moved on."
"Really, Stan?" he asks.
"Really, Broflovski."
"If you say so," he mumbles, as if he doesn't believe me.
"I've talked about it so much," I say. "It isn't something that will ever be easy to talk about, so it's pointless to keep doing it."
"All right," he nods, dropping it for now and changing the subject. "I want us to be friends again. I really missed you."
"We can't pick up where we left off," I tell him, knowing that it's impossible. We soon pull into the parking lot of the apartment building and Kyle pulls up in front of the lobby doors.
"Yeah," he shrugs, "but maybe that's okay."
I just roll my eyes at him, not bothering to ask what he's hinting at.
"See you around, Stan," he says.
I open the car door and get out before helping Wendy. I pick her up and turn around, entering the building. We ring ourselves in and go up to our apartment, where we kick off our shoes and get ready to end the day. We brush our teeth in the sink and Wendy drools out half the toothpaste in her mouth. I chuckle, wiping her chin. She smiles a tired smile and hurries into her room. I retreat to my own room and shrug out of my clothing before putting on a pair of pajama pants and an old shirt. Before going to sleep, I check on Wendy, making sure she's in bed. "Goodnight," I whisper.
3.
The following morning, Bebe wakes me up. I never should have given her the key to my apartment. "No," I moan. "I actually slept well for a change."
"Aw," she coos. "I'm sorry, but it's 7:30 and you need to be at work for 9."
I sit up and stretch my arms and legs out in front of me. "How was the rest of your night?" I ask her.
"It was really nice!" she exclaims, clapping her hands together. She begins ranting on about everything else that happened and once she's finished I tell her how fun it all sounds. After that, I get out of bed and she follows me out of the room. "I'll bring Wendy to her grandparents' house after school," she says.
"Great," I say. "Thanks again."
She rolls her eyes. "Stop thanking me, you loser. I've told you a hundred times I don't mind. I love helping you out and I love being around her. I was her mother's best friend."
"Yeah," I murmur gently. "Just know I appreciate it."
"I know that," she says with a smile.
I return the smile before going to shower and then off to work.
I get off at 5 and make my way to Mr. and Mrs. Testaburger's house to pick Wendy up. They look happy to see me. They've recovered from their daughter's death for the most part, welcoming a grandchild into their lives with open arms.
In the car, Wendy animatedly tells me about what she did today. I smile and express enthusiasm when she sounds excited about something. "It sounds like you had a really fun day!" I tell her afterward.
"I did!" she exclaims happily.
I always get anxious when I pick Wendy up from the Testaburger house. Sometimes she returns home with things that belonged to her mother – old toys and things kept as keepsakes. The first time it happened, she came out holding a ragged doll. "This belonged to Mommy!" she said with the biggest smile and I started to bawl. I felt so bad because she looked so happy and I ruined it, but I couldn't help it. I stood in the doorway of the house crying until Mrs. Testaburger ushered me inside. Once I calmed down sufficiently, I took Wendy home. She was quiet for the ride and when we arrived back I hugged her and I told her I was sorry. I don't think she understood why, though. I don't know if she's old enough to truly understand what being dead means.
4.
Since the following day is full of meetings, I get to leave early and finally pick Wendy up from school. I park the car and wait outside the school doors with a bunch of other parents. Everyone is older than me, no surprise. I can't recall the last time I stood in front of this building. It's been a damn long time. It's a place of sweet and sour memories.
Soon, kids start piling through the doors and I spot a familiar redhead walking a string of little children out. It's really is Kyle Broflovski. Damn it!
He smiles good-naturedly as the children disperse towards their parents. He's still pleasantly unaware of exactly how much he screwed me over. "Hey, Stan," he greets, walking beside Wendy.
"Broflovski," I say, giving him a sugary sweet smile in return.
He looks mildly taken aback, probably sensing the cynicism in my voice. Good. Nonetheless, that doesn't sway him. "It's good to see you again…" he says.
"Oh, you too," I tell him in the same insincere tone. Wendy is oblivious to my rudeness as she takes my hand.
He lets out a sigh, following me and Wendy as I lead her towards the parking lot. "What did I do, Stan?" he asks.
I let out a quiet scoff. "Are you really asking me that?"
"Yeah, because I'm honestly confused," he admits. "I apologized, Stan. I'm sorry, okay? I'm really sorry, but I can't change what I did." Hell, what a guy! How can he be so damn selfish?
I open the car door, helping Wendy inside and putting on her seatbelt before closing the door.
"Stan…" Kyle says my name again. "Talk to me."
"What?" I hiss, spinning around and looking at him. "Are you joking? We're not friends anymore, okay? So don't tell me what to do."
"Why are you being so moody?" he asks. "Jesus Christ, I'm trying to do the right thing here, but you won't let me."
"My wife died!" I raise my voice at him. "I watched her bleed to death giving birth to our baby! I… I watched her…" I begin hyperventilate as the once buried memory makes its way to the surface of my mind. I rub my sticky palms over my face and through my hair, wide eyed as the scene replays. "No…" I murmur to myself as I'm once again forced to watch her die. "No… No. No. No. No…"
"Stan?"
"No. No. No…" I keep repeating, squeezing my eyes shut.
"Stan!"
"No… no, no, no…" I keep saying. My voice gets weaker and weaker and suddenly I feel someone smack me across the face.
"STANLEY RANDAL MARSH!"
I open my eyes and Kyle is standing in front of me looking concerned and scared. "Did you just slap me?" I ask.
"You wouldn't listen…" he reasons. "Sorry."
I can't help but laugh, but the laughs turn into sobs. "Oh, God…" I whisper weakly.
Kyle lets out a sigh. Now he just looks irritated and if I wasn't so distraught, I'd probably get angry at him for it. "Fucking hell, Stan…" he murmurs, pulling me into his chest and giving me a few wary slaps on the back.
"I needed you," I admit quietly. "I needed you and you weren't there…"
"I'm sorry… I'm really fucking sorry," he says, sounding genuine. "Hey, uh, your daughter is watching us through the window. You're going to have some explaining to do."
I let out another laugh that sounds just as miserable. "Shit," I mutter, moving away from him. Without another word, I walk to the other side of my car and get into the driver's seat.
"Dad?" Wendy immediately says in a timid tone. "Why are you crying?"
"I'm just a little upset," I tell her.
"Why?" she asks.
"I was friends with your teacher when I was younger," I tell her, pulling out of the parking lot. "We had a fight a while back."
"Why don't you fix it?" she asks childishly.
"Maybe," I say.
"Do you miss him?"
"Maybe," I say again.
"I like him!" she declares. "He's pretty and nice!"
I chuckle at that. I wouldn't exactly call Kyle Broflovski pretty, but he's definitely handsome. He grew up well.
After supper, Bebe comes over. She doesn't bother announcing her presence and I nearly pee my pants when she strides into the living room. "Howdy!" she waves as Kyle saunters in after her. "Look who I ran into."
"Hey," I greet them both. "We're watching My Neighbour Totoro." For Wendy's sake, I'll be civil. I guess it's easier than holding an old grudge against someone I used to care so much about. If he's trying, I should try, too.
"Aw!" Bebe exclaims. "I love this movie!" She sits on the sofa next to me and Wendy before patting the small space beside her. "Come sit, Kyle."
He squeezes in beside her and the four of us watch the rest of the movie. It's one of Wendy's favourites. Afterward, Wendy drags Bebe into her room to play dolls, leaving me and Kyle alone. We are quiet and the silence is awkward, but I'm at a loss for words.
"I called Bebe," he murmurs. "We didn't actually magically run into one another."
"I had assumed as much," I tell him.
"I wanted to see you again," he explains. "I was going to ask for your number, since you ran off before I could ask for it… but she told me to come over instead."
"How nice," I say.
He chuckles and adds, "I don't know if you're being genuine or if you're being condescending."
"I'm being genuine," I promise him. "I'm glad you're here. It's always nice to see old friends." I reach for the remote and turn the television off.
"I still feel like you're being cynical…" he murmurs. "You're pretty good at being a cynic."
I roll my eyes.
"Kenny is making eyes at Bebe," Kyle changes the subject.
"I'm not surprised," I say with a laugh. "She's gorgeous." Kyle nods and I ask, "Are you okay with it?"
He nods again. "Our romance was never rekindled after…" he trails off. "So, are you going to be okay with it?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" I wonder.
"You seem closer with her," he notes and I know exactly what he's hinting at.
"We're best friends," I say. "It's strange how it happened… The circumstances were hardly pleasant. She was my wife's best friend… We kind of pushed everyone away except each other because we knew most other people wouldn't understand what we were going through. In turn, we ended up growing closer. But that's all it is. It's purely platonic. We kiss on special occasions, but it's never been anything more than just that. It would be so wrong…" I can't even explain how disastrous it would be for me and Bebe to have become an item.
"Yeah," Kyle agrees softly.
"Yeah," I repeat him.
"You've changed a lot," he notes.
"For the worst?" I wonder aloud.
He shakes his head. "You're just quieter… but it's a sad kind of quiet, y'know?"
"Yeah, I know," I murmur.
He offers me a sympathetic smile before grabbing my face and kissing the top of my head. I just smile at him in return. He was always particularly affectionate – especially with me. I guess it came with the territory of being best friends.
"I fuckin' love you," he says, still holding my face. "I always have. That hasn't changed, okay?"
"Okay," I chuckle, putting my hands over his. "I guess I still love you, too." I haven't said that to anyone apart from my daughter and Bebe in a damn long time. I don't even say it to be my parents anymore. I probably should. They deserve to hear it. I suppose love doesn't just go away, no matter how much time has passed. Maybe that's why I'm still mourning and maybe that's why I've been so angry at Kyle for leaving me alone.
5.
It's the weekend now and I don't work weekends. I've been talking to Kyle more. He's here right now. I think Wendy likes that. She's awfully fond of him.
He stays for dinner and announces his departure afterward. He waves to Wendy and I walk him to the door.
"Ah…" Kyle rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "Okay, look…" he starts, "This might sound like a strange request coming from a guy, and even more so coming from me, but do you want to go out?"
I'm taken aback. "What?" I ask.
"Don't answer me now," he says. "Think about it."
If I answer him now it would be a NO. If I answer him tomorrow, it will still probably be a no. I don't know what giving it some time is going to do, but I'll humour his intentions. "Fine," I murmur. I guess there actually is some truth to Cartman's insults.
He nods, slipping into his shoes and saying, "See you."
Once he's gone, I close the door and walk back into the kitchen to clean up. It's nearing 6. That means Bebe will probably be on her way over sometimes soon. She's here most nights. When she does show up, she looks very giddy and excited. "What are you on?" I ask jokingly.
"I have a date with Kenny," Bebe reveals, grinning.
"Congratulations," I chuckle. "Oddly enough, I got asked out as well…"
Her jaw drops and she frantically asks, "By who? Did you say yes?"
"Strangely… It was Kyle," I start. "I didn't say anything yet. Kyle told me to think about it."
"Wendy would want you to be happy," Bebe says gently, "even if that meant moving on and being with someone else. Your wife and your daughter both want you to be happy, Stan."
"I know," I admit. "It's just hard…"
"Say yes," Bebe urges. "I'll babysit Wendy for the whole night."
I scoff lightly. "I won't need you to stay all night… I don't have sex on the first date."
She laughs loudly. "Honey, everyone says that but everyone does it at some point. You might surprise yourself. You might get caught in the heat of the moment and want Kyle to fuck you silly. There's no shame in it." Fuck me silly…? I grimace at the possibility. I am pretty sexually frustrated these days... "Don't reject him just because he's a man," she continues sagely. "You don't date the gender; you date the person within all that. Gender doesn't matter. Trust me. If you choose who to date based on that, you might be denying yourself something that would make you incredibly fucking happy."
"You think?" I wonder.
She nods. "I know."
"Isn't this against the friend code or whatever?" I ask lightly. "I'm dating your ex…"
"Like I care!" She rolls her eyes. "Kyle is sweet. He is generous and gentle in the sack. He really knows how to make someone feel special."
I pale slightly. "Great to know…"
"Give him a chance," she says. "The love you feel for him now might turn into a different kind of love."
I wrinkle my nose at the idea of it.
"Haven't you ever experimented with a guy friend before?" she asks.
"I used my hand on a guy once," I reveal, shrugging my shoulders, "but he wasn't a friend."
Bebe chuckles at that. "Seriously?"
I nod shamelessly. "Weird, huh?"
"Yeah, unexpected," she admits. "How come I never heard about this before?"
"Well, I was drunk as hell," I add.
She smiles lecherously. "How'd it happen?"
I shake my head at her, but I can't help laughing. "I went to a bar and ordered a drink. A guy sat down beside me and we chatted. We both ended up getting pretty drunk. Since I was horny and lonely, we got each other off in the bathroom. Classy, eh?"
"A true tale of romance," she snorts. "Hand or mouth?"
"I used my hand on him, he used his mouth on me…" I murmur. "I ended up getting an STD test that week because I got worried. It was pretty impulsive. I mean, I had just met the guy and then his mouth was on my dick."
"Yeah," she says with a sigh. "Spontaneous sex can be fun as long as you know you're safe… I take it you didn't get crabs or anything, huh?"
"Nah, I was fine," I say.
"You and Kyle would make a really pretty couple," she says offhandedly, sighing with satisfaction. "He's so tall and handsome. You're so cute and little." She pinches one of my cheeks.
"Taller than you," I say. I'm 5 foot 6 inches. That's not bad.
"I'm a dainty girl," Bebe simpers before adding, "Give him a chance. You never know what could happen. Someday, maybe Wendy will have two daddies."
"Okay, no," I shake my head. "You're getting way too ahead of yourself."
She giggles. "Probably… but I have a good feeling about this, Stan. So, go out with him."
"I'll think about it," I say. Bebe's words have been pretty convincing. Maybe something good will come out of it after all.
The following day is Sunday, so I call Kyle and tell him I'll go out with him. We arrange a dinner date for this coming Friday. I think Bebe is even more excited than I am about this.
"Oh, God," she practically moans. "You guys are going to be so perfect."
"Bebe, stop," I snort. "You're creeping me out."
She smirks. "I'm psyched enough for the both of us, because you hardly ever express yourself."
"That's not true," I protest.
She shrugs. "I guess you cry a lot."
I wrinkle my nose. I suppose that part is true. "I'm allowed to."
"Of course," she says, patting my arm. "Better out than in."
Better out than in. I guess she's right about that, but I'm still not sure if I'm ready to be with someone – especially someone who left me alone for so long. "I still feel bitter," I admit.
She shrugs. "Maybe that's another reason it's good you're doing this. Get to know Kyle again."
"I suppose so," I agree.
Come Friday, we'll see.
