Just Friends Page 10

“It sure is,” says Ramona. “Because Tilda Kopel would never allow it.”

  Never Make Your Move Too Soon

  Josh asked his friends for their advice, and they gave it. Two to one in favour of keeping his mouth shut. Sal with his big-screen dreams obviously has a romantic streak missing in the more pragmatic Carver and Ramona. Put another way, Sal is less realistic, given to fantasy and special effects. So Josh has decided to listen to reason – the foundation on which man’s knowledge of the universe is based – and reason says that no best friend of Tilda Kopel will ever be a girlfriend of his. His mouth is shut. Shut, bolted and double-locked.

  Not that he would have much chance to open it. Suddenly, he and Jena are both very busy. Josh has rehearsals with the band; she has to help Tilda with her lines. Josh has a chess match; Jena’s busy on the weekend. He sees her at school, of course, and even walks with her after language arts, but always on her other side is that most unlikely (and most efficient) of chaperones Tilda Kopel in her knee-high boots, short skirts and force-field smile, acting as if he isn’t there, keeping up everyone’s end of the conversation and making sure the only words Josh gets to speak concern hello and goodbye.

  And then one afternoon he winds up leaving the school grounds with them. After an enthusiastic greeting from Jena and the nod of a queen acknowledging the presence of a very minor servant, Josh walks beside them in silence. Tilda’s voice, of course, is the voice heard most. Blah blah blah, yada yada yada, yakaty yak. Josh’s mind wanders, trying to remember the lyrics to a Reginald Hall song about someone who talks too much, when he hears Tilda say, “Let’s hope the guy you’re seeing Friday night turns out better than that last wastoid. Like, ohmyGod, he was just so not right. I told you that. Didn’t I say he had ‘vacant space’ written all over him?”

  Josh doesn’t look over at them, but if he were a cat his ears would be standing at attention.

  “He wasn’t that bad.” Jena laughs. “He was a lot better than the guy I went out with before him.”

  Before him? When did she start dating? How many guys have there been?

  “And I know you’re right about him, but he wasn’t all bad. He was kind of cute.”

  “You can do much better,” Tilda decrees. Jena makes a non-committal sound that could be agreement or could be doubt. “Trust me,” orders Tilda. “Nobody thought he was good enough for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” says Tilda.

  Jena, it seems, can’t argue with Nobody.

  Slightly stunned that he’s been in Parsons Falls all his life and has never had a single date, but Jena, here since August, has already had at least two, Josh chooses this moment to use one of his opportunities to speak. “See you later,” he says. Only Jena shouts after him, “Laters!”

  She calls him on Saturday afternoon. Tilda was supposed to be spending poker night with Jena, but Tilda is indisposed. “She has really bad cramps,” says Jena. “She says it’s like she’s being squeezed in this giant vice and—”

  Josh stops her before blood can become part of the story. “I don’t need to know the gruesome details,” he assures her. “I’ll be over at seven.”

  Which means he has to adjust his Saturday night plans.

  “What are you, rent-a-pal?” asks Sal. “It’s a good thing Ramona and Zara are coming along tonight. So at least we won’t be a man down.”

  Ramona? Why was Ramona coming to movie night?

  “I asked her,” says Sal. “I have a movie she’s always wanted to see.”

  “Really?” Josh can’t tell if he’s surprised or suspicious – or, possibly, both. “How do you know that?”

  “She told me,” says Sal.

  “And Zara?”

  “Carver said she should come, too. You know, since they’re friends and usually hang out together on Saturdays.”

  Thank God no one’s going to miss me, thinks Josh.

  Nothing is without its drawbacks, of course. Thorns on roses. Pips in oranges. The challenging shell of the coconut. The drawback to hanging out with Jena at her house is her father. The General makes a habit of answering the door. It may be that he is always the first to greet visitors and salesmen, but Josh takes it personally. The General never stops sizing him up; asking questions he knows Josh either can’t answer or will answer incorrectly. That he isn’t a fan of Waylon Jennings, for example; that he doesn’t know how to change a tyre; that he has read Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States. When Josh said his mother couldn’t recommend a good butcher because they’re vegetarians, the General smiled triumphantly. “I should have known.”

  Tonight Jena answers Josh’s ring. He glances into the living room, but there is no large man in a baseball cap looming behind like the threat of nuclear disaster looming over the world.

  “It’s okay.” Jena shuts the door him. “Dad already left.”

  “Really?” Josh follows her along the hallway and into the kitchen to get the snacks. “Does this mean he’s decided to accept me?”

  Jena laughs. “Not exactly.” Her back is to him as she takes something from the counter. “What he’s decided is that his daughter is safe with you.”

  “Because he finally realized what a nice kid I am?”

  She turns around, holding two plastic bowls and wearing a smile admirers of the painter Leonardo da Vinci would recognize. “Because he thinks you’re probably gay.”

  “Damn it.” He knew the General’s small talk was all trick questions. “It’s because I’m not into football, isn’t it? And because I don’t eat dead animals.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s not from the Stone Age. He knows you don’t have to be gay to be vegetarian.” She hands him one of the bowls. “It’s because you’re so different from what he thinks is a normal guy.” She opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of soda and a bottle of water. “And so that’s the explanation he came up with. If he believed in UFOs he’d think you came from another planet.” She hands him the water. “And I didn’t even tell him you don’t drink Coke.”

  She orders pizza and they move into the living room.

  At least partly to change the subject from his deviant dietary habits and disinterest in competitive contact sports, he braces himself for the worst and asks her how her date went, silently begging that it was less successful than the maiden voyage of the Titanic.

  “OhmyGod! You won’t believe it! It was really bizarre. Tilda couldn’t stop laughing when I told her.”

  Maybe God has moved over to Josh’s side. Or at least stopped pitting Himself against him.

  “I mean, it was way better than this one guy I went out with who not only finished my hamburger platter for me because I put my fork down for like two seconds but couldn’t stop talking about his sailboat. Not for a single minute. By the time the evening was over I felt as if I’d been to China with him on it.”

  “So what happened this time?”

  She giggles, a sound that, it seems, only bothers him when it’s made by Tilda Kopel. “We went to a movie.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad. At least you didn’t have to talk about sailing.”

  “Or listen,” says Jena.

  Josh is smiling, he’s relaxed, he’s really interested. He’s experiencing a form of schadenfreude; being happy over the misery of others. If she’d had a terrific date he’d be so down he’d be below the Earth’s surface. “So what was so awful?”

  “Well, for openers, as soon as the ads came on, he started humming along with the theme songs.”

  “No way!” He gives her a playful shove.

  “Yes, really, Josh. I swear it’s true. And loud. Really loud. Not like under his breath or anything. So everybody around us could hear it.”

  “I don’t believe you.” As much as he’d like to. “Nobody would act like that on a date. Especially not a first date. He might as well have shown up dressed as a giant rabbit. You’re making it up.”

  “OMH, Shine, I’m not making it up. I swear.” J
ena mimes cutting an X over her chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Really and truly. People kept looking over at us. Even though it was dark it was sooo excruciatingly embarrassing. I swear, I wanted to crawl under my seat. A giant rabbit would’ve been a really big improvement on the hummer. At least people would’ve thought it must be a publicity stunt for some movie.”

  He’s still not convinced. “So what did you do while he was singing back-up? Tap along with your feet?”

  She rolls her eyes. “You mean, besides pretend I wasn’t really with him? Nothing. What could I do?”

  “You mean, you just sat there while he impersonated a soda commercial?”

  “Oh God, I didn’t know what to do. I guess I figured he’d be more like a regular human once the movie started. I thought maybe he was just bored.”

  “And was he?” He wants her to say No. No, he grew horns and started pawing the ground as soon as the ads were over.

  “Except for a couple of times when he was the only one laughing, he was okay. I guess he didn’t know the soundtrack music.”

  The good-friend smile is practically glued on Josh’s face. “So does that mean you’re going to see him again?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. He wasn’t awful or anything – not like Sailor Boy. But we didn’t really click, you know? We kind of bumped into each other and sat there. Keeping the conversation going was like keeping six balls in the air. You had to concentrate. If you took your eyes off it for half a second it stopped.”

  “And hit you in the head?”

  She leans against him, laughing. “Anyway Tilda said there was no point in giving him a second chance because I could never take him out with our crowd in case there was music. I mean, can you picture it? Everybody would just crack up.”

  Even without Tilda’s guidance, Jena has admitted that she’s a serial dater. The most times she’s ever been out with the same guy since she started dating in middle school was twice. There was always some fatal flaw. Boring. Slurped his soda. Chewed his nails. Told really dumb jokes. Or there was something not right. No clicking, just that dull thud. No sparks. Jena said you can’t start a fire without a spark. Josh didn’t tell her she was wrong.

  He raises one eyebrow. “So no goodnight kiss then?”

  She laughs. “I didn’t say that, Josh.” Blushing makes her eyes shine more. “I mean, he is really, really good-looking.”

  Of course he is. Jena’s dates may all have something wrong with them but it is never that they have a face that is best seen from behind. She said she knows it must make her seem shallow, but she can’t help it that she’s attracted to guys who are handsome. Like some people are attracted to blondes or athletes or Southern accents. “Or short people,” put in Josh. “There are millions of girls who won’t go out with anyone over five foot four.” Jena laughed and punched him in the arm. She thinks it’s great that he doesn’t have a complex.

  “Maybe it’s me.” Jena frowns. “Do you think it’s me, Josh? Am I too picky or demanding or something?” The frown deepens. “Maybe it’s because of my dad. You know, because he’s kind of a perfectionist. And I’m always trying not to, you know, disappoint him.”

  “Of course you’re not too picky,” he assures her. “A girl has to have standards.” Though he can think of at least one he wishes she’d lower.

  “Yeah, but what if I have too many? What if I end up all by myself when I’m, like, forty and past it? Everybody else will have a partner and I’ll be alone microwaving meals for one and talking to my computer. Or to a cat. That’s what old ladies nobody wants do, isn’t it? They get a cat.”

  “I think they get, like, at least ten cats,” says Josh. “But that isn’t going to happen to you.”

  “You can’t be sure. Things don’t always work out the way you think they will.”

  “I am sure,” says Josh. “Because if you’re alone when you’re forty, you can always live with me.” He’s bound to be on his own. “My cooking’s pretty limited to chilli and spaghetti, but it should’ve improved by then.”

  “OhmyGod!” Her shriek is worthy of a lottery win. “That’s fantastic! What a genius idea!” She pulls her legs up on the sofa and kneels facing him. “Tilda and I talk about maybe living together some day, but you’d be a way better roommate than her.”

  And more useful than a cat. Because of the opposable thumbs.

  Jena makes an I’m-about-to-say-something-totally-shocking face. “Not to be mean, ’cause you know I love Tilda, but she is controlling. Kind of like my dad. And she really is such a major slob.”

  “Tilda? But she always looks like it takes her at least an hour to get ready for school.”

  “It does. Sometimes longer.” Jena squeezes his hand. “Swear you won’t tell anybody what I’m about to tell you.”

  Who would he tell? It isn’t like his friends lose sleep over the burning issue of whether or not Tilda Kopel leaves dirty underwear under her bed.

  “But even though, you know, personally, she always looks totally perfect, her room pretty much looks like a crime scene. You know like in a movie when someone breaks in and is looking for the memory stick with all the secrets on it and they turn everything upside down?”

  Jena’s room, however, always looks as if it’s ready for inspection – which it probably is.

  “That’s what happens when you weren’t raised by a military man,” teases Josh. “No discipline or standards.”

  “But you weren’t raised by a military man, and you’re super neat,” counters Jena. “Even my dad would be impressed if he saw your room.”

  “That’s because I’m anal-retentive.”

  “Well, Tilda’s the opposite. She doesn’t retain anything, she throws it everywhere. And she’s useless at anything practical. She drinks instant coffee at home because she can’t work the coffee-maker. I mean, really? A coffee-maker? And also, I bet you never argue, either.” He argues all the time; just not with Jena. “I’ve never ever heard you shout. Tilda shouts even when she’s not mad. But you’re always so laidback and mellow.”

  Mellow, but also yellow. He wouldn’t dream of shouting at Jena – she might never speak to him again.

  “You wouldn’t make a mess, and you’d clean up, and you’d always be in a good mood…” She gives herself one of the hugs he’d like to give her. “Seriously. I think it’d be perfect if we were roomies, don’t you?”

  He nods. Pretty close to perfect. Definitely a very near neighbour.

  “And you could do all the guy things, too. Which, believe me, Tilda can’t do.”

  He probably can’t do them either.

  “The guy things? You mean, like punching people and driving too fast?”

  She laughs. “No, you… I mean, like putting up shelves and fixing dripping faucets and stuff like that.”

  All the things Josh’s mother does. The one time he tried to help fix a leak he nearly drowned them both.

  “And I’d never have to worry that we were going to be interested in the same person. And if I wasn’t seeing anybody and I needed a date for a party or something, or wanted someone to watch a movie with, you’d be right there.”

  Here is his chance to say something about how he really feels about her. He doesn’t have to wait for the right moment; this is the right moment. All he has to do is tell her that she’s right and her father’s wrong, there is no way Jena and he would ever be interested in the same person, because even though he doesn’t play football he’s very heterosexual and the person he’s interested in is her. He could at least drop a hint. Make a joke about the well-known power of propinquity; draw the Euler diagram; play her that Mike Nesmith song. He could warn her she’d have to be careful because he might prove irresistible once she’s seen him when he’s brushing his teeth. I use red mouthwash. I look like a vampire, and you know how sexy they are. Or he could be really bold and say: But what if we fall in love?

  He does none of those things.

  “You make it sound so romantic.
” He winks roguishly, though she may just think he has something in his eye. “I want to rush out and buy some tools so I can start putting up shelves.”

  “And you know what else? You always make me laugh! So whenever I got stressed or bluesed out you’d be there to cheer me up!” Leaning forward slightly, she grabs his hand again. “It really would be so cool, wouldn’t it? Think of how much fun we’d have!”

  She is so close he can feel her breath, soft as the beating of a ladybird’s wings. But he’s pretty sure that the heart he hears pounding, heavy as the footsteps of a giant in a fairy tale, is his. This really is the moment he’s been waiting for, dreaming of. All he has to do is gently pull her towards him. All he has to do is shift towards her. Just an inch or two. That’s all he has to do. Neither of them moves. The world pauses, holding its breath; the only thing in the house besides them is silence. They sit face to face, smiling, eyes on eyes and hands entwined. Is she waiting for something? Is he? All he has to do…

  But suddenly he hears her telling Tilda Kopel about tonight, just the way she told him about her dud dates. You think the guy humming in the movie theatre was bad? Oh my God, that was nothing. Josh Shine came on to me last night! Can you believe it? I swear, Tilda, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry… Though in his mind they are both laughing, of course, the tears streaming down their faces, dragging streaks of eyeliner with them. Where’s my phone? gasps Tilda. I have to tell the others… I have to tweet about it… She says she wishes Jena had taken a picture. And they collapse into each other’s arms. He tells himself to stop. He’s doing a Hamlet. Jena would never do that to him. She would never betray him to Tilda like that. Now’s his chance. All he has to do is open his mouth and tell her the truth.

  The doorbell rings.

  The pizza has arrived.

  That’s what you get if you don’t act when you have the opportunity: margherita with extra cheese.

  Talk of the Town

  “He did? You’re sure?” asks Carver. “Mrs Shine told Ramona that?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” says Sal. “Josh’s mom said he suddenly ran out of the house the other night with half an explanation.” The half an explanation was that his friend was locked out. “She figured it wasn’t you or me ’cause we would’ve just come over to wait until someone got home to let us in. She called Mo because she thought it must be her. It didn’t occur to her it could be Jena.”