Love Story
A "he said - she said" Saga. Part 1
Thumb hovering over the send key, I pause to figure out what went wrong. I fought the urge to let my mind wander back. Fought hard to not remember. Weak person that I am, I went there.
That last day I stood in his bathroom dressing for a 4th of July party. I’d just finished latching my bra when he came up from behind and unhooked it. He slid his hands over my breasts and leaned to kiss my ear. “Je t'aime,” he whispered.
My traitorous body responded to his touch and I melted into him. “You’re going to make us late.” I shivered as he murmured an erotic French expression in the husky voice he knows I love. “I mean it, Wyatt,” I said in a very unmean-it-able voice and reached back to re-hook my bra. “I don’t want us to be rude guests. I don’t want to miss the fireworks.”
“We’ll make our own, Grace. Right here.” He tried to steer me toward the bedroom.
I laughed and tried again to rehook my bra. He gripped tighter and trailed his mouth down my neck; my knees weakened. We play-wrestled until he finally let go. “D'accord,” he said and stepped back, trickling his fingers across my naked skin. More shivers.
“Love Story” is on tonight,” I told him. “How about we snuggle in bed later and watch it?”
He rolled his eyes.
I kissed his cheek. “I know. I know. It’s pretty corny.”
“And dated.”
“But it’s kind of sweet.” I ran my hand over his chest. “Like you. And the winter scenes remind me of home. And of us when we first met. Magical.”
Wyatt cupped his hand over mine, then pulled it to his lips. As he kissed each finger, I stroked his cheek with my other hand. “I think you’d like it, Sweetheart. Honestly. It has Ali McGraw.”
Wyatt stepped back and shook out his “Carpenters Are Built to Last’ tee shirt, sniffed it, then pulled the black tee over his head. “Record it then you watch tomorrow while I help Sally set up her computer.”
“Can’t she do it herself?” I made myself not whine.
“It’s quicker if I help. Friends do that.” He turned to the mirror. “Meilleur ami.”
“Uh huh.” I bit my lip and watched Wyatt stare at his reflection.
He ran a hand over his head. “I’m thinking of getting a rug, Babe.”
“A rug? But you have a lovely head.” I reached to smooth his bald scalp. “I like it.”
“I dunno.” He tilted his head right then left. “Sally and I were going through photo albums, and she saw an old picture of me. Back when I had a full head of hair. She said I looked like Richard Dean Anderson. You like him, don’t you?”
“When was that?”
“I dunno. You were teaching or maybe at yoga.”
“I don’t do yoga anymore. Remember?”
“She says it’ll help my self-esteem.”
“Your self-esteem is fine, Wyatt.”
“Anyway, it’ll be a change,” he said and kissed my cheek. “Change is good. Sally says that change keeps us alive. If we remain stagnant, we weaken and shorten our lives. She’s smart, you know.” He polished his teeth with a finger. “Très intelligent!”
“You’ve mentioned it one or a thousand times.” A tiny whine snuck through.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting jealous again? She’s my--“
“Best friend, I know.” As always, I wanted to ask why I wasn’t his best friend, but pride clamped my mouth shut.
“Just about four years.” He returned to examining his bald head.
“Uh huh.” I nodded. “And you’ve gone nearly a day without reminding me how close you two are.”
Wyatt reflected on the close personal relationship he had with his neighbor, the one he’d proposed to just months before he and I met. The one he “jokingly” proposed to every six weeks or so, or told her that “if she’d married him back when he asked she’d blah blah blah...”
“Aren’t you due to propose?” brain dead me asked.
Wyatt let out another chuckle. “It’ll be four years on the twentieth since the day we met.”
“Super. That makes it nearly three longer than you and I’ve been together. She wins.”
“There are no winners, mon chéri.”
“Oh, I think there are. Whatever did you do before she came along?”
“Good question.” Wyatt chuckled, kissed me again, then stepped into what he’d begun calling “our” bedroom.
I parted my hair then divided one half into three ropes. I started braiding. “What if she realizes she wants to be with you after all, Hon?” I glanced into the bedroom; Wyatt settled on the edge of the king bed with the ugly brown duvet Sally’d helped him pick out well before I existed in his world. It was worn and already starting to pill.
“She won’t.” Wyatt mumbled as he scrolled through his phone.
“But if she does? What will you do? Or say?”
“I told you she won’t.” His eyes stayed glued to his phone. “She doesn’t date older men. She has abandonment issues and worries she’ll be left alone. Even though I’m healthy and fit and have the body of a man half my age,” He patted his sucked in stomach. “I bet I outlive all of you all.”
“But when she realizes you’d never abandon her?” I took the braid out and loosened auburn strands.
“Did you know that even at my age I can impregnate a woman?” Wyatt chuckled.
“Not something I think about,” I paused to think about it. “What will you do?”
“Je ne sais pas.” Wyatt shrugged then stared upward as though considering what he might do. “I guess I could be a sperm donor.” He returned to his phone, leaned back on his elbows. “Would it bother you to have a dozen or so little me’s out in the world?”
“Not about that. What if Sally wants to move from friend zone into romance.”
Wyatt sighed. “I told you. That is not going to happen. She won’t change her mind. Not ever.” He was irritated and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was my questioning or the fact that Sally might not ever want to be more than friends. He took a deep breath then came in to kiss me on the head. “You’re stuck with me, mon dulcinée.”
“Can you answer the question? Please?”
“Damn it, Grace, I did. Several times.” He typed into his phone. “Can we change the subject? Please?”
“Just give a straight answer. If she wants to be with you, especially given how virile you always point out that you are, what will you do?”
Wyatt groaned. “How many times do I--? Let me say it again. THAT is NOT going to happen! Sally will never change her mind. Ever! Enough with the third degree.” He jabbed his finger into a button on the phone and stomped out.
I yanked the brush through my hair, gathered it and fastened an elastic around the base. I pulled the ponytail tight and wound a red, white, and blue ribbon around it.
Wyatt stomped back into “our” bedroom and held the phone up as though he was a QVC Presenter. “Look. THIS is our connection. THIS is why we, as you claim, talk so much. Why we always text.” He put finger quotes around “always.” “It’s because of the girls. She just sent a photo to let me know how Sadie’s doing.” He shoved the phone into my face. On the screen: a picture taken shortly after he brought Sadie, his grey cat, to her place. Sadie relaxed atop a comforter with Chi Chi, Sally’s calico. Underneath the photo Sally’d written, “Look how these two adore each other.” Below that, a heart emoji with another text that read, “Just like you and I do.”
“Ohhhhh,” I cooed. “You adore each other. How sweet.” I didn’t even try to keep irritation out of my voice.
He looked back at the photo. “She is sweet. And—” Big big sigh. “I don’t get why her relationships don’t last. She’s attractive. Fun. Decent hair. Her body’s a bit skinny for my taste, but that smile…. And her laugh! Well, it’s merveilleuse. You can tell it’s her a mile away just by the laugh. Once I was at the park and—”
“You’ve mentioned that, Wyatt. Several times.”
He brushed his hand, dismissing me, then returned to the phone. “And, of course, she gives the best hugs. Le mieux!”
Should I ask her for lessons? I wondered, then leaned to watch him type.
“I don’t get it. I just don’t.” Wyatt tsk-tsk’d as he typed “absolument!” beneath her “adore each other” text, added a kissing emoji and pressed send. He tucked the phone into his back pocket. “It’s a mystery.”
“Maybe she should appear on Mystery Science Theater,” I told him, then wanted to kick myself for making such a lame joke.
“She’s confident, affectionate.” He half smiled. “When she kissed me at Halloween—"
“Wait. She kissed you? You never told me.”
“Sure I did. When she stopped by to show off her Jessica Rabbit costume. You just forgot, Grace. Like always.” He kissed my head. “Silly girl.”
“I wouldn’t forget Sally kissing you. And why, when she knows you’re with me, would she?”
“Don’t tell me you’re feeling insecure? I thought we were past that.”
“I’m tired of hearing about her.”
“Oh, God. Here we go.”
“Where does she get off kissing a man who’s with another woman?”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “It was nothing. A quick peck. Barely that. I have to say, though, she has very moist lips.”
Yeah, you really HAD to say that. just like you HAD to tell me your French tutor wasn’t much to look at though she had a good body. And that for a woman her age, Maggie had “great boobs.” And you HAD to point out again and again and again that if you’d never met your late wife, the “sexiest woman on earth,” you’d never know true love.
“Why don’t you just tell me what her kiss tasted like?” I said, ignoring my late mother’s warning that one must always, “be careful what one asks for.”
“Like vanilla if you must know. She was baking cookies so—” Wyatt’s brain must have kicked in because he caught himself. “Why are you so damn jealous? She’s there!” He pointed toward the kitchen window where, two blocks away Sally and Wyatt’s cats snuggled on the comforter he once told me he’d spilled wine on the time they hid under it to watch Blair Witch Project. “YOU, Grace, are here.”
“As what? Placeholder? Her back up? As the chick you settled for because the one you wanted was out of stock?”
“Oh, please. Why are you so damned insecure! YOU. ARE. HERE!” He jabbed his finger downward. I tried not to care that he pointed to the floor and not to his heart.
“I know where I am, Wyatt. Believe me. Yes. I’m here. And SHE is right there,” I tapped his forehead. “Always. Permanently.”
“WE. ARE. BEST. FRIENDS! Stop making it more. STOP with the jealousy! I was attracted to you because I THOUGHT you had it together. I thought you were confident, self-assured.”
I think I was. I can’t remember. “I don’t want to go to this party.”
“Well, I’m committed. It’ll be rude—”
“Go. Invite your best friend. Maybe she’s free.”
“As a matter of fact, she is. She texted while you were in the shower. Her date cancelled.”
“How convenient.”
“Oh stop. I’m going to the party by myself if you won’t come.”
“Maybe you’ll meet someone confident and self-assured.”
“I thought I already did.”
“And by the way, Wyatt, confident and self-assured is redundant.”
“Why thank you Gracie Grammar Cop.” He stomped out of the room then back. “I don’t know how much of your insane jealousy I can take. It’s like I’m walking on eggshells. The constant stress—”
“I need to go home.” I shoved past him.
“Whatever you say.”
I yanked open the dresser drawer he’d emptied for me weeks ago and began grabbing clothes. I threw them onto the bed.
“What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“But chér...” He reached to touch me as I swept into the bathroom. I gathered the toiletries out of my designated drawer and dumped them onto the bed. “Wait. Grace. Hold on. Please.” He ran a hand up my arm. I shook it off.
And so it went. For half an hour during which time I packed my stuff and Wyatt vacillated between defending the relationship with his BFF, and trying to appease me using every trick he knew. For once, none worked. My last words to him were, “Enjoy the stress-free life with your FBFF.”
Months later, I still wonder. What happened to the couple who once upon a long time ago believed they were in love? That couple who, for approximately two hundred seventy-eight days and twelve hours, couldn’t bear to be apart, even for a day. The couple who pledged everlasting love and loyalty to one another. Or as Wyatt once said, “le couple qui avait un amour éternel!”
I got a text this morning, the first in nearly four months. In it he wrote “Watching Love Story and thinking of you, Grace.” He closed it with a hug emoji.
I hesitated, then below his text typed, “Watching Texas Chain Saw Massacre” and thinking of you.” I pressed send.
Read Pt 2 here
Great story. I hope Grace moved on and put that pompous @$$
in her rear view.
Can’t wait for part 2.
Love your stories! 🙌
OMG, I need more!