That night, I dream a mixed-up version of the past. I dream about things that happened, and didn't happen, and could have happened. I dream I say things I didn't. I dream that I am something I'm not. I dream about things so jumbled I can't follow a story at all.
I wake up crying.
"So, let me get this straight, young miss Elliot," says Lou, arms akimbo, her mouth smiling ruefully, "you can save lives and swim like a fish, drive like The Italian Job, put up with Mary's shit, and you know every rule in soccer?"
"It is the world's favorite sport," turning the volume down on the TV. It's an Arsenal v Real Madrid game, and it's exciting, but Lou's talking, so I try to pull my focus to her.
"Yeah, but I didn't know it was your favorite sport. I thought you weren't that sporty."
"I'm not. Some things are just gripping, you know?"
"Like a choke-hold."
"Like a half-nelson."
"Like an episode of 24."
"Like a mystery novel."
"Like Ahmir Wentworth's biceps," she breathes, falling back on the couch. She wants to say something else, but doesn't. I look down at my lap, or more accurately her feet, which are in my lap, then pick at the nail polish on my thumb.
"You really like him, don't you?"
"Don't you?" There is no double meaning in that, so I just shrug, throwing at smile at her, turning to watch Lehmann make an amazing save. "Come on Anne, you have to have eyes, right? Unless you like girls, which is okay too."
I roll my eyes a little. "I don't have to be a lesbian to not be attracted to Ahmir. And I bet a lot of lesbians would be attracted to him, too."
"So you do think he's hot?"
"What do you want me to say, Lou? You want me to say he's attractive, or do you want me to say you should tap that?"
"Both. And since when do you say things like 'tap that'? But he's not a piece of ass or anything. Not that I'm that kind of girl anyway, but still. He's nice, he's smart, he's charming, and my God he's unimaginably, unattainably, indecently gorgeous. It wouldn't be bad if we…you know…"
I don't want to hear much more of this. Mental images—very bad mental images—are now popping up, and I focus on a corner kick to take them away. But Lou is confiding in me: she needs my input, needs my support, and she has no idea about Ahmir and me. And she shouldn't, either. If Ahmir has moved on, and if Lou is the girl, then knowing about my past will only hurt her. Better that she doesn't know. Better that no one ever knows.
"Uh huh," I say, shooting her a glance. She prods me with her heel. "Shut up, you. It's just been a while."
"What's a while for you, Lou? Like a month, maybe?"
"Totally ignoring the fact that you might be calling me easy, yes, in fact, I have been sexless for a month. At least. No me gusta."
"But seriously, a month? That's not bad. Try a couple years."
Lou's eyes widen, and she half sits up. "You haven't had sex in years?"
"Is this conversation making you uncomfortable? Because it's making me uncomfortable."
"Like, how many years, Anne?"
"Wow, look at that cross. See, if a forward wants to set up a goal, he'll—"
"None of your dodging, lady! You'll tell me right now!"
"What's Anne going to tell you?" Hen has wandered in and taken up residence on the arm behind Lou's head, and is looking between us expectantly. And since Lou can never let anything go, and since she obviously wants to know without any real regard for how uncomfortable I am at the moment, she lets her sister in on the fun.
"Anne hasn't had sex in years. Years."
"Whoa, really? Like, how many years?"
"None of your business," I'm starting to get more than a little annoyed at this. They're staring at me like I'm a monkey in a zoo, and I don't feel like being treated like a freak because I'm not a sexual animal.
"Anne, come on, don't get so defensive about it. It's not a bad thing, it's just, you know… And we never talk about that stuff. We should at least do it this one time, while we're on the subject."
"While we're on the subject, Hen? We? There is no we about it. You guys are on the subject, I'd be more than happy to talk about soccer again, or shoes, or cartoons, or the increasingly ugly political strata in the Middle East. All of those things, I will talk about. This, however, not so much."
That should be the end of it, but it's not. Much as I love the two of them, they're not into the whole 'personal boundary' thing. Or any boundary, really. I put it down to their privileged upbringing that they expected what they wanted to come to them eventually. Throughout an entire hour and a half, during the rest of the game I had been happy to watch before, they wheedle and wheedle me, slipping in random comments and non-so-subtle hints. I could get up and leave. I could get away from them. But I know I won't hear the end of it until I tell them anyway, and besides, I was here first. I'm watching something, unlike them. They're just there for the public flagellation.
Finally, a small, snide side-comment from Hen makes me so mad that my resolve snaps. I let my breath out abruptly, snapping:
"All right! Okay! Five, okay? Five years! Okay? Happy?"
They haven't been expecting an outburst. At the most, they've been expecting an eye-roll and a heavy sigh, like I usually give when they wheedled something out of me. But this made me mad, this intrusion into my personal life. Who are they to judge me, anyway? They have no right to tell me what was weird and what wasn't, especially not this. I had had enough of it. I push Lou's feet off my lap, curl myself up into as small a ball as I can on the couch, and turn my face resolutely toward the screen, trying hard to quell my anger in the uncomfortable silence.
I see a lot of Ahmir in the next two weeks. On Wednesday, Lou decides that I've left something important at my old house. We catch going out for walk. On Thursday morning, we go to the park and have a picnic. On Saturday, we decide to go see a movie. It goes on from there. Hen and Lou come up with a million and one ways to justify spending time with him, and he certainly doesn't complain. I accompany them on their excursions to give it further legitimacy. Thankfully, no one really takes any notice of me, and I get to walk behind them on the sidewalks, sit on the outside of the rows, and avoid eye contact without anyone asking why I'm not participating. As a general rule, their conversations aren't really interesting anyway.
On the second Friday, we go to a malt shop complete with the waitresses in poodle skirts and roller skates. I'm eating fries absent-mindedly, looking after our hostess and feeling a wave of sympathy for the kitch factor her job entails, when I hear Lou say, "So Hen, how's Chris doing?"
I turn around. This is the first time I've heard anything about anyone named Chris. From the way Lou said it, though, I guess he's significant. Hen, who's just said something really funny and cute, stops mid-smile. Maybe she's been hoping that Lou wouldn't mention him so she'd have a fair shot at Ahmir. Or maybe she's just interested in no-strings-attached flirting. Either way, I get the feeling that Lou's just violated some sort of unspoken promise.
There's a moment's awkward pause. I catch's Ahmir's gaze in brief agreement, then look quickly away to Hen, who smiles, and says, "He's doing great, Lou. He's actually coming back from his grandmother's in a couple days."
"Chris is Hen's boyfriend," Lou clarifies to Ahmir and me, smiling a little in a way that worries me. "He's been gone for a few weeks, which is why you haven't met him, Anne. You should see the two of them together. So cute!" She gives the smile again, and my friend, the fair, down-to-earth Lou, disappears for a second.
"Well, he must be a great guy, Hen," says Ahmir smoothly, smiling at Hen. "He'd have to be, to deserve you."
"Tell me about him," I say, too timid to lump Ahmir and me into an "us." Lou has the grace to look a little sheepish, but then Hen launches into her spiel, and Lou settles back into her booth, closer to Ahmir. I can she thinks she's won him now, and it almost disgusts me. If she's willing to play dirty with her own sister to get him, this was no ordinary infatuation. Lou has a reputation for bearing down until she gets what she wants, and now that she wants Ahmir, I'm afraid of how low she'll go to get his attention.
Around the time Hen is telling me about Chris's ability with cars ("Damn, he can do something useful," quips Ahmir, "he's already ten times cooler than I am."), her cell phone buzzes on the table. When she picks it up, her face falls a little, then she smiles broadly. "Speak of the devil."
I get up to let her scoot out, then sit back down, keeping an eye on her through the diner window.
"Chris sounds really cool," Ahmir says to the general company. Lou and I both nod and make non-committal sounds: we're watching Hen through the window. Suddenly, there's tension in her shoulders, and her fingers are moving nervously along the hem of her shirt. But she's smiling happily, too. That confuses me. How can she be so apprehensive when she obviously loves hearing his voice? Lou turns around and starts to suck up her milkshake. I hope she's feeling good and low right now, because it was a shitty thing to do so publically. Not that I condone Hen fantasy-cheating on her boyfriend, who does sound like a cool guy.
There's silence at the table for a while. The hostess rolls over after a little and refills my basket of fries, which I've downed mechanically. I'm finally starting to flesh out a little, thanks in part to the enormous mountains of food Mrs Musgrove dishes out for me every time I see them. I make a mental note to start exercising eventually. As I pour ketchup over my fries, I notice that Hen has closed her phone and is standing on the sidewalk, arms folded, waiting.
Chris is back. Too soon. And he's coming here, to meet a girlfriend he can't wait to see. I'm torn between deep pity for Chris and concern for Hen. Now that's she's told us about him, she can't just go out walking with him. We have to meet him, and talk to him, and Hen has to determine how she feels about him in our company, with Ahmir Wentworth, People's Sexiest Man Ever, sitting right across the table.
As it turns out, we don't have long to wait. Chris crosses the street, takes Hen in a big hug, and smiles down at her. He's very good-looking; middle-height, stocky, powerful, with a charming smile. He's been gone for awhile, and it's obvious he's missed Hen. Hen smiles back at him tentatively, and then happily. I'm guessing they haven't been apart for any extended period before this. Hen's glad to see him, but there's still this crush to explain away. Or lie to cover.
They come into the diner, and walk toward our table. Chris stops a little when he sees Ahmir, who's smiling amiably. Hen hurries to introduce them. "Chris, this is Ahmir Wentworth, a friend of ours. And this is Anne, our sister-in-law. Anne, Ahmir, this is Chris Hayter." Ahmir holds out his hand to shake and Chris takes it, smiling a little. "Hey, man, nice to meet you." Then we shake hands, as well, and I slide in to let them sit down. Chris sits down on the end, now looking a little angry.
"Nice to meet you, Chris, we've heard so much about you," says Ahmir, who looks completely at ease. I know differently. There's a slight tension in his shoulders, and he's smile's a little too friendly.
Let that teach you to be careful who you flirt with, Ahmir Wentworth. Lou is watching the action with wide eyes, and she's playing with her straw distractedly.
"Yeah? Funny, I've heard nothing about you, Ahmir. Only about Anne over there," he gestures to me and half-smiles. I half-smile back, really pitying him now. What was Hen thinking, not even telling Chris about him? What has anyone been thinking these past two weeks? "You're kind of a mystery. But at least I can guess that you're the reason she hasn't returned my calls lately."
"Chris—" Lou starts, ready to jump in now for her sister who looks like she won't be able to say anything.
"No, Lou, don't try to cover it up, okay? It's not fair when both of you are lying," he gets up, and Hen, almost paralyzed, looks up at him. "Not that you had to, Hen. You should have just told me the truth, instead of lying. That would have been way easier." He turns on his heel and walks out. Hen sits still for just a moment, then bolts after him, calling his name as she's halfway through the door, and running out into the night. The three of us sit in silence for a few minutes. Lou looks thunderous and gobsmacked at the same time, which is a feat, but she's leaning against Ahmir for support, and when she puts her head on his shoulder and he lets it stay, I decide I've had enough. I fish in my pocket for a ten and put it on the table before sliding out of the booth. "Right, that's enough for me tonight. See you guys later." I head out, ignoring Lou's face and Ahmir's eyes, and stepping out into the night. There's a little bit of crispness to the air now, and it helps calm me down as I start to walk home.
A/N: Okay, this is my last author's note, I promise. I have a new website, for everyone interested. You can get it through a link from my author's page. What makes it not narcissistic and boring is that it's actually the homepage of the Jane Austen Project, a film project of my own creation, which I hope you or anyone you know is interested in participating in. The official rules are on the page itself, along with a comment box for you to offer suggestions, etc. I hope you all are interested, and hope to see you over there!