Flat-Out Love

  She shook her head. “Anything would be fine. You can pick for me. Just something very expensive. No goat, though.”

  “Excellent. More champagne, Miss?”

  What the hell? “Sure. More champagne. It’s a night to celebrate, right?”

  She ate the stuffed lobster with truffle oil that appeared and then ordered dessert. A trio of chocolate something-or-others. She wasn’t paying attention. And since the champagne was sitting so well, and the server hadn’t carded her, she tried two dessert cordials that both tasted like cough syrup but made her head spin wonderfully after she managed to get them down. She should really consider taking up drinking because she was totally enjoying herself now.

  She wondered how much this meal cost. Probably a good amount even though it was just her. If only she’d invited some friends then the bill would have been outrageous.

  Julie waved her server over. “You know what? That truffley lobster was bang-up. Could I get five orders of that to go? Thank you. And give yourself a forty percent tip. Then I would like my cab, please. I’m ready to go home.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Julie stumbled drunkenly into Dana’s apartment and threw the two bags of lobster into the fridge. She crawled onto the bed and turned on the television so that she could watch all the New Year’s celebrations. Shots of Times Square flashed on the screen. “Screw you, New York!” she shouted and muted the volume. Hey, maybe Finn was still up? It took a little while, but eventually she located her purse, which had landed in the fridge with her to-go cartons.

  She fumbled her way back to the bedroom and messaged him. What are you wearing? He didn’t reply, so she tried again. I am only wearing thigh-high leather boots and twirling a leopard print parasol. Still nothing. He must be asleep. Why was he not there? She wanted to chat with him and hear him say cute, flirty stuff. She needed him now. He was funny and would make her laugh.

  She kicked off one of her shoes and started to get changed as she pulled up a phone number. Her nylons were halfway off when he answered.

  “Hello?”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “Um… who is this?” he said sleepily.

  “Matty, it’s me!” she yelled.

  “Julie?”

  “Yes, Matty! Have you forgotten me already?” She looked dumbly at her tangled nylons, trying to figure out how she had tied them in a knot while they were still half-on. “What are you doing home? You should be out revelrying!”

  She heard him laugh softly. “I was sleeping. And revelrying? I’m not familiar with that term.”

  “Yes. It’s a term because I say so. I’m creative like that. Oh, my God, I’m The Terminator! Get it? Don’t you miss me and my delightful banter?”

  “I do miss you,” he said, yawning. “Sure.”

  “That’s not convincing. You’re hurting my feelings.”

  “Everybody misses you. Especially Celeste. Thanks for all the emails you’ve been sending her.”

  “Aw, my buddy Celeste.” Julie lay down on the floor and yanked on the bunched up nylons. “There. I did it!”

  “You did what?”

  “I got myself undressed!”

  “I think you got yourself drunk, that’s what I think.”

  “So what? So what if I’m drunk? I’m still funny.”

  “You are funny,” he agreed. “How is California? How’s your father?”

  “My father is fan-frickin’-tastic. He’s clearly aiming for father of the year with the way he’s spoiling me. It’s a really good trip.”

  “Er… Are you OK?”

  “I’m perfect. Are you OK?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Are you going to make it until midnight?”

  “Of course I’ll make it to midnight. I’m gonna watch fireworks shoot out over the ocean. Wanna come watch with me?”

  “Sure. I’ll be there in a minute. Don’t start without me.”

  “I can always count on you, can’t I, Matty? You’re the best, and you’re very helpful. I love you.”

  “Now I know you’re drunk.”

  “Calm down, silly boy. Not like I love you-love you. I just love you. You’re so smart. Oh, you love me, too, and you know it.”

  “Have you had any water to drink?”

  “See what I mean? That is the smartest idea ever!” Julie grabbed the footboard, pulled herself up, and headed to the bathroom. “OK, here I go. Are you ready?” She turned on the faucet.

  “Go for it.”

  “Now, hold on. Don’t go anywhere.” She stuck her head under the tap and sucked in as much icy water as she could. “Ta da!” she announced.

  “You also could have used a glass.”

  “You didn’t say to, and you’re the one in charge. Now I have to pee. Don’t listen, because that would be gross.”

  “Believe me, I will not listen.”

  “You talk, and I’ll pee. Talk loud to cover up the pee sound. Tell me something interesting. You always have interesting things to babble about.”

  “I do not babble. But for the sake of blocking out any noises you are about to make, I will ignore that remark and tell you that Celeste loved the messenger bag you gave her. And she didn’t blink twice when she saw the packs of hinges you’d put inside. She even had me add some a couple onto Flat Finn, so he now bends at the knees and the neck. Next up are ankles and elbows. Pretty soon he’ll fit into the bag like your note told her. It’s actually a fairly genius idea that you had, Julie.”

  “I know, right? I’m a smartie, too. Not as smartie as you because you are abnormally smart. I mean, seriously, Matthew Watkins. Do you know how bizarrely intelligent you are? It’s pretty freaky. I’ve never met anyone like you at all. What were we talking about? Oh, yeah. So Celeste can just fold up ol’ Flatty and pack him in the messenger bag so no one will see. What about you? Did you like your shirts? They’re funny. Han Solo is hot. Everybody likes him because he was already hot and then it was awesome when Princess Leia said I love you and he said I know. That added to his hotness. That line is timeless. And the popsicles? They’re hilarious, right? I will admit that I sorta like all of your shirts.”

  “Obviously when you get drunk, you lie. And talk a lot.”

  “I am not lying. They are actually a tiny bit adorable.”

  “I knew you would come around.”

  “I’m done peeing now.”

  “Thank you for letting me know.”

  Julie shuffled into the hall and caught sight of herself in the mirror. She swayed a bit from side to side and frowned at her sagging hairdo. “I look crazy. I think I should go to bed now.”

  “Probably a good idea. Happy New Year.”

  “Wait, don’t hang up yet! Tuck me in.”

  “Tuck you in?”

  “Yes. Tuck me in. Come to bed with me. Oh, wait, that’s not right, is it? Can you imagine?”

  “Imagine what?”

  “If we went to bed together. That would be bananas, huh?”

  She heard him sigh. “This conversation has officially taken an alarming turn.”

  “You’re just figuring that out now?” She plodded back to the bedroom, shut off the light, and got under the covers. “Matty?”

  “Yes, Julie?”

  “I have to tell you something.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I like math.”

  “I think that is wonderful.”

  “And there’s something else.”

  “Shoot.”

  She cupped her mouth with her hand, whispering. “I’m a virgin.”

  “Oh my God, Julie, I’m hanging up now.”

  “I’m serious. This is important. I’m a freshman in college. How can I still be a virgin, huh? Nobody else is a virgin. Nobody else in the whole world. What about you? You can’t be. I mean, you had that girlfriend and everything. And you’re old.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Well, not old. But older than I am. So you definitely can’t be a virgin, right? Tell me. You’ve had sex, right?”
br />   “I don’t think we should be talking about this.”

  “Come on! Don’t be such a baby. It’s a perfectly normal question.”

  There was a long pause. “Fine. Yes, I’ve had sex.”

  “I knew it!” she yelled triumphantly. “Have you had a lot of sex?”

  Matt laughed. “I suppose it depends how you define a lot.”

  “That means you have! Man, at the rate I’m going, I’m never going to have sex.”

  “Are you in a big rush?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? Everyone says sex is great. It is, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know that I qualify as an expert, but, yes, it can be great. If you’re with the right person.” He was silent for a moment. “So you and Seth never…?”

  “Ha! I knew you’d want to talk about this stuff! No, we never did. I didn’t want to. Seth was cute and nice and perfect and all that, but I didn’t want to. He just wasn’t the guy, you know? I want the guy. The everything guy. Not the dumb Prince Charming, nauseatingly-perfect everything guy. That’s pathetic. I want the flaws-and-all everything guy.”

  “You’ll find him. Not when you’re drunk and slurring, but you’ll find him.”

  “Hey, they’re counting down to midnight. In stupid New York where all the stupid cool people are. Let’s count together.”

  “Tell me when.”

  Julie looked dizzily at the screen. “…seven, six…” Matt started to count with her. “…five, four, three, two, one!” She watched the hordes of people wave their arms and cheer as the famous ball dropped. The cameras panned to couple after couple caught up in kissing.

  “Happy New Year, Julie.”

  “Happy New Year, Matty.” She turned off the television and rolled onto her side. “Matty, I have another question for you.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Are you a skilled lover?”

  “And that concludes our evening chat.”

  “I bet I could be a skilled lover. I’m very energetic. And a quick learner.”

  “You definitely need to go to sleep.”

  “Oh, fine.” She yanked the sheet up higher. “I can’t stay on the phone anymore. I have to get to sleep.”

  “I think that’s a good plan. I’m glad you thought of it.”

  “I like talking to you,” Julie mumbled.

  “I like talking to you, too. Most of the time. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  “G’night, Matty.”

  Chapter 23

  Julie looked at the clock. It was only seven-thirty in the morning, and she felt like hell. The expression “death warmed over” came to mind. She had slept horribly, tossing and turning, trying to control the nausea that had woken her up several times. Not to mention the excruciating headache.

  Champagne sucks, she thought. And her father and stupid New York still suck.

  She might as well get up, since there was no use lying around stewing about things. She dragged her hung-over self from the bed and plodded to the kitchen, gripping a hand to her head in a futile attempt to keep her brains from smashing against her skull. She grabbed a carton of orange juice and sat down on the couch in the living room to watch TV.

  Reporters recapped last night’s celebrations and replayed footage of midnight displays and cheers from around the world. Watching this, these masses of happy people, made her feel small and unimportant. Probably the way her father saw her.

  She could see it now.

  It was quite clear to her that she barely registered on his radar. It was rather unbelievable. She was his daughter, his only child, and he had screwed her over time and again. And she had let him.

  Asshole.

  Her head was spinning. She flipped through the channels and landed on a local news reporter who had been stuck with the unfortunate job of filming on a windy beach in South Boston. Julie squinted at the television. Why on earth was a crowd forming at the freezing beach at this time of day? Oh my God, they were going swimming!

  The reporter yanked her hat down as a gust of wind swirled. “Even with water temperatures predicted to be a painful forty-one degrees, dozens of men, women, and even children are preparing to take the annual Polar Plunge this morning at ten o’clock in Boston Harbor.”

  Finn had told her about this event. These people are crazy, Julie thought.

  “Many swimmers will experience an involuntary bout of hyperventilation that can last up to three minutes,” the reporter continued. “And these daredevils won’t be wearing any protective clothing to combat the icy water. No wetsuits here, folks. Just bathing suits and bravery!”

  Julie made a pot of coffee and popped a few pain relievers. She stood by the window that looked out onto a deserted street. Hardly anyone was out this morning, as if the sullen gray sky had forbidden people from leaving their homes. Julie took a sip from her cup and gagged. Her stomach was a wreck. Every part of her hurt, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in such a terrible mood.

  She put the cup down and made a decision. She sent Finn a message, quoting an old The Why Store song, “Lack of Water.”

  That should be cryptic enough. In case she backed out.

  **********

  Matthew Watkins thinks that occasional, in-the-privacy-of-your-own-home binge drinking is unfairly maligned in the media and romantic comedy chick flicks.

  Finn is God Can you always do something sometimes?

  Julie Seagle I had a dream about starting a dating service for fish called solemate.com. In unrelated news, I will never drink again.

  Julie looked around and wondered why everyone was smiling. This was not fun. It was sleeting now, and the wind had picked up. She looked down at her bare legs and questioned what she’d been thinking coming down to the beach. And the only bathing suit that crazy Dana owned was nothing but a small handful of fabric posing as a bikini. Julie felt like an idiot. At least other people in the Polar Plunge crowd looked just as silly, she supposed; the three guys with Red Sox logos painted on their chests, an elderly man in a cowboy hat, the mother dressed as a lobster, and a trio of teen boys dressed as leprechauns all stood out more than she did. Hopefully.

  Damn, it was cold, and she wasn’t even in the water yet. Julie looked out at the ocean, the waves dark and ominous. Powerful. She didn’t understand the crowd’s enthusiasm for what they were about to do. It was a chore. A test. A way to prove something. It was scary and awful. But Julie needed to do this. She tried to focus, determined that she would not stop when her foot hit the water. What if she stopped breathing? Stopped moving? What if she panicked and her knees went weak? The force of the waves would push her below the surface, holding her down on the frozen ocean floor. That was not going to happen, she told herself. It was mobbed here. Someone would either see her fall or trip over her. She would just have to plow through the first cold shock. She’d run in and out of the water, and then it would be over. Just a few minutes out of her life.

  That reporter had said something about involuntary hyperventilating. Yup. Julie was already involuntarily hyperventilating. And who the hell ever voluntarily hyperventilated?

  Julie caught sight of a girl wearing a Princess Leia outfit and stared at her. Even in her foggy state, something was ringing a bell about this. In fact, screeching, horrible, major-panic kind of alarm bells started going off…

  Suddenly the crowd rushed forward, and Julie found that she was running across the cold sand, her feet digging into rock. While she could vaguely hear the whoops and yells from other swimmers, mostly she heard the sound of her ragged, scared breathing. What had Finn said to her? As much as you’re terrified, you’re also starting to feel the rush, the thrill you get from being on the brink.

  Julie ran harder, faster, yelling as she hit the ocean, but didn’t stop. The water stung her legs, then her waist, making her gasp and struggle for air. The cold was so jarring that she couldn’t make a sound. She thought about Finn again: It’s a calm like you’ve never known before, and you don’t want it to end.
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  She got it now. As she bent her legs and threw her whole body under water, she got what he meant. Her feet found the ground, and she pushed up, soaring back into the frigid air. She could swear she heard Finn call her name as she went under again. The way her body went numb so quickly was enthralling. Soothing. She was drawn into the sensation. Maybe she could just stay here, here in this euphoric ice water where it felt timeless and peaceful and clear? When she hit the surface again, she turned her back to the beach, standing silently as the salt water splashed against her.

  Julie! Julie!

  The sky was even darker now. Too dark to be only ten in the morning. The sleet continued to fall. It must be hurting her skin. Her body felt weightless and infallible, and that unfamiliar feeling was riveting. The allure of the deadening ocean was calling her again. She let her legs bend and watched transfixed as the skyline in front of her changed.

  Julie!

  Someone grabbed her arm. “Girl, you gotta get out. Come on.” A burly man took hold of her arm and pulled her up, stopping her from sinking. “Now. That’s it. Come on. Make yourself run.” Julie noticed he had long gray hair that he wore in a ponytail the same way her grandfather did. And a full beard. Her legs were moving, but she sensed that she was not going fast enough. Like her steps were in slow motion. She watched fascinated as the man put his arm around her and effortlessly scooped her up. Why was he doing that?

  Julie!

  The man carried her from the water, then across the sand. “You’ll be OK. You just froze up. First time, huh?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  The man set her down on her feet, and she leaned forward into a thick blanket. She knew this blanket. The smell and the texture felt like home. As someone swaddled her up in the softness, her body began to shake violently.

  “Oh my God, Julie! What were you doing?” She also knew that voice.

  “Matt? Did you see me?” she asked, without looking up. Her voice sounded far off.

  “Yeah. I saw you,” Matt said. He did not sound happy.

  “Did you see Santa Claus, too?”

  “That wasn’t Santa Claus. That was one of the L Street Brownies who rescued you from certain death. It was considerate of him, after you crashed their event.” Matt tightened the blanket around her and started furiously rubbing her back and her arms. “We have to get you warmed up. Dummy. Hey, can you get her sweatpants, and socks and boots on? Hurry.”