On the Rocks(21)

Made perfect sense to me.

An hour later, the four of us were still sitting around our Scrabble board on the floor in our tiny living room with beer and a bowl of Tostitos while the summer storm continued to pound the windows so hard I was afraid they would shatter. Otis Redding played off the speaker dock, and I had to admit, I was enjoying getting to know my new friends and I was having a good time, if for no other reason than playing Scrabble with someone whose first language wasn’t English was almost reality-show material.

We waited for Wolf to place his letters on the board, and when he did, he spelled out BMW.

“BMW is not a word, it’s an abbreviation for British Motor Works,” Grace said.

“It’s a German company,” Wolf countered. “Don’t tell me it’s British, silly American girl. The B stands for Bavarian. Like me!”

“Even if that’s true, you can’t use abbreviations,” I said. “No one gave you a hard time when you played U-BOAT last round, and don’t even get me started on you using the word STRUDEL. You should be using this game to help develop your English skills, not to insert German words all over the board.”

“These are words. The little book with the definitions says so. And BMW is not British. You’re all wrong.” So we checked.

Damn it. He was right on both counts.

The argument had momentarily distracted me from what I’d been thinking while running earlier. I hesitated to bring it up, if for no other reason than I didn’t know the boys that well and didn’t want them to think I was crazy. Then I realized that if we were going to be hanging out all summer, they’d find out sooner or later anyway, and it was probably better to let them know who they were dealing with. Besides, those earlier thoughts were ruining my Scrabble concentration, and I had just lost the chance to play the word QUICHE for thirty-seven points.

“I was thinking while I was running this morning.”

“About?” Grace asked.

“Ben. Or I should say, how to get over him for good,” I admitted, without bothering to look up at the skeptical expression that I knew was on Grace’s face.

“The guy’s name is Ben. Got it,” Bobby said. “I knew it was a guy!”

“Fine. There was a guy, and yes, his name is Ben, and our breakup was, what would I call it . . .”

“Horrifying?” Grace offered.

“I was going to say messy, but sure, let’s say horrifying and leave it at that. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about what I need to do in order to get back out there and let people know that I’m available.”

“If you’re trying to come across as available, then yeah, you probably need to revamp your strategy,” Bobby said.

“Why do you say that?”

“For starters, the guy at the bar yesterday was hitting on you and you didn’t give him the time of day,” Bobby said.

“What guy?” I asked.

“The guy who offered to buy you a drink when we were at the bar. You not so subtly told him to go kill himself.”

“Oh please, he wasn’t hitting on me. He was just drunk and being stupid, and I might add, he was entirely too forward considering he didn’t know me.”

“Are you seriously so dating-impaired that you don’t even recognize the act of being hit on?” Bobby turned to Grace with a bemused expression I wanted to smack off his face with my tennis racket. “Grace, is she kidding me?”

“No. She’s that clueless,” Grace said as she stared at her Scrabble letters.

“Thanks, Grace,” I said.

“Hey, it’s not a bad thing. You’re just out of practice is all,” she replied.

“He was most certainly hitting on you. When was the last time you went on a date?” Bobby asked. Suddenly, no one was interested in the Scrabble board, which was a shame, because I had a monster word to play.

“She hasn’t been on a date with anyone in like, twelve years,” Grace so nicely offered up. The guys gawked and stared at me like I was some kind of circus freak.

“Really?” Wolf asked. “I’ve been on more than that, and I’m still learning English.”

“Yes, well, I was in a long-term relationship, and it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a real date. And that’s my point!” I said, getting excited about sharing the details of the plan I’d concocted in my head somewhere around mile two before I started to see spots.

“That you need help in the dating department?” Bobby said as he clapped his hands together to get the Tostito dust off his fingers.

“Yes. I hate to say it, but I do,” I said.

“Okay,” Grace said, finally devoting her full attention to me and not to the letters in front of her. “What kind of help?”

“I was thinking that maybe I should move. I mean, I can teach anywhere. Maybe a fresh start outside of Boston would force me to come out of my self-imprisonment.”

“Oh, this is fantastic,” Bobby said. “You think you’ll be better at dating in other cities, huh? Okay, hotshot, let’s play this game. Where would you go?”

I hadn’t really thought about it much. But now that everyone was wondering, I guess I had a few ideas. “How about New York?”

“No way,” Grace said. “It’s crazy expensive. Aside from that, it’s too high-maintenance. In order to survive in New York, you need to have a session with your personal trainer, a resurfacing facial, a full body wax, a manicure, a pedicure, $500 highlights, and a designer wardrobe just for most people to deem you acceptable to walk on the sidewalk. Too much pressure. Bobby and I both lived there, and we are both back. You’d never last.”