Maybe Someday(6)

couch next to Tori. She’s got a textbook spread

open across her lap as she halfheartedly focuses

36/692

on both homework and TV at the same time. I

take out the containers from the fridge and make

his salad. I feel a little guilty that I forgot tonight was one of the nights he said he was coming. I

usually have something cooked when I know

he’ll be here.

We’ve been dating for almost two years now. I

met him during my sophomore year in college,

when he was a senior. He and Tori had been

friends for years. After she moved into my dorm

and we became friends, she insisted I meet him.

She said we’d hit it off, and she was right. We

made it official after only two dates, and things

have been wonderful since.

Of course, we have our ups and downs, espe-

cially since he moved more than an hour away.

When he landed the job in the accounting firm

last semester, he suggested I move with him. I

told him no, that I really wanted to finish my un-

dergrad before taking such a huge step. In all

honesty, I’m just scared.

37/692

The thought of moving in with him seems so

final, as if I would be sealing my fate. I know

that once we take that step, the next step is mar-

riage, and then I’d be looking at never having the

chance to live alone. I’ve always had a room-

mate, and until I can afford my own place, I’ll be

sharing an apartment with Tori. I haven’t told

Hunter yet, but I really want to live alone for a

year. It’s something I promised myself I would

do before I got married. I don’t even turn twenty-

two for a couple of weeks, so it’s not as if I’m in

any hurry.

I take Hunter’s food to him in the living room.

“Why do you watch this?” he says to Tori.

“All these women do is talk shit about each other

and flip tables.”

“That’s exactly why I watch it,” Tori says,

without taking her eyes off the TV.

Hunter winks at me and takes his food, then

props his feet up on the coffee table. “Thanks,

babe.” He turns toward the TV and begins eating.

“Can you grab me a beer?”

38/692

I nod and walk back into the kitchen. I open

the refrigerator door and look on the shelf where

he always keeps his extra beer. I realize as I’m

staring at “his” shelf that this is probably how it

begins. First, he has a shelf in the refrigerator.

Then he’ll have a toothbrush in the bathroom, a

drawer in my dresser, and eventually, his stuff

will infiltrate mine in so many ways it’ll be im-

possible for me ever to be on my own.

I run my hands up my arms, rubbing away the

sudden onset of discomfort washing over me. I

feel as if I’m watching my future play out in front

of me. I’m not so sure I like what I’m imagining.

Am I ready for this?

Am I ready for this guy to be the guy I bring

dinner to every night when he gets home from

work?

Am I ready to fall into this comfortable life

with him? One where I teach all day and he does

people’s taxes, and then we come home and I

cook dinner and I “grab him beers” while he

props his feet up and calls me babe, and then we 39/692

go to our bed and make love at approximately

nine P.M. so we won’t be tired the next day, in or-

der to wake up and get dressed and go to work

and do it all over again?

“Earth to Sydney,” Hunter says. I hear him

snap his fingers twice. “Beer? Please, babe?”

I quickly grab his beer, give it to him, then

head straight to my bathroom. I turn the water on

in the shower, but I don’t get in. Instead, I lock

the door and sink to the floor.

We have a good relationship. He’s good to me,

and I know he loves me. I just don’t understand

why every time I think about a future with him,

it’s not an exciting thought.

Ridge

Maggie leans forward and kisses my forehead. “I

need to go.”

I’m on my back with my head and shoulders

partially propped against my headboard. She’s

straddling my lap and looking down at me regret-

fully. I hate that we live so far apart now, but it

makes the time we do spend together a lot more

meaningful. I take her hands so she’ll shut up,

and I pull her to me, hoping to persuade her not

to leave just yet.

She laughs and shakes her head. She kisses

me, but only briefly, and then she pulls away

again. She slides off my lap, but I don’t let her

make it very far before I lunge forward and pin

her to the mattress. I point to her chest.

“You”—I lean in and kiss the tip of her

nose—“need to stay one more night.”