Not Today, But Someday(53)

“I don’t think I would either. As a friend, as a boyfriend–”

“Wait, Nate,” I say, stopping him. He presses his lips together, clearly frustrated. “If you did, though... who’d be there to pick up the pieces?”

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” he avers with conviction.

“You can’t know,” I argue. “Did Mom ever think that Dad would cheat on her? Would she have dreamed it in a million years? No. And to your point, would Dad have ever thought that he would do such a thing, twenty-five years ago? No. When they were dating and in love, do you think either was thinking ‘I wonder if there will be someone better, later in life?’ I don’t. You just can’t know.” And he can’t. Neither of us can.

“I promise you.” His voice is pleading.

“Dad made vows in front of his family and friends and God. Words... just... they can’t be trusted,” I say. Actions can’t either. People, by nature, can’t.

There are no guarantees in life. It’s the first time I realize this, and the weight of it hits me hard. Even when – if – I get married years from now, there’s no telling what will happen twenty-five years down the line. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to let myself put so much faith into another person.

“You have to have a little faith,” he says, as if reading my mind. I laugh to myself. “Maybe not today... but someday.”

“Maybe not today... but someday...” I repeat back to him, lying down on the stage and staring at the ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him doing the same.

Not today... but someday...

I like him. He feels more familiar to me than members of my own family. I just don’t want to be let down, and although the familiarity is nice– it’s comfortable and comforting – I don’t know him well enough to know if he can really live up to what he promises.

Not today... but someday...

“Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s forget about me for a minute.”

“Okay,” he laughs.

“Weren’t you saying you wanted to take some time away from girlfriends now anyway?”

“I want to stop wasting my time on girls I don’t really care about,” he says. To me, he’s changed his position on this in the last ten minutes. He could be inconstant. He could be lying. Or he could really care about me more than those other girls. I already feel like he does, but it doesn’t change how I feel, or what I want.

“Let’s make a pact,” I suggest.

“A pact?”

“Yeah. Let’s just be friends.”

“Do I get a vote?”

“Sure,” I tell him. “What is it?”

“Let’s be more than friends.”

“Not today,” I tell him, “but maybe someday we could.” I watch him sit up beside me. He pulls his knees to his chin and looks at me hard.

“I knew you were a tease,” he says. He looks like he’s joking, but I know there’s a sliver of truth behind his words. I have been flirting with him. I have been leading him on. I like his attention. Am I being a tease by not following through? Because this is how I like it. It’s playful, and fun, and no one gets hurt. Well, no one’s gotten hurt yet.

“Well, so are you,” I counter tentatively. He flirts, yes, but I can see our differences.

“Being a tease implies you’re advertising, but not delivering. I would deliver,” he says. I roll my eyes, not sure if he sees me do it.

“Look, Nate. I like what we have right now. Don’t you?”

He smiles at me before he answers. “I do. I like how you inspire me.”

“Why complicate things with a physical relationship?”

He frowns at me. “Not today, but someday,” he repeats, considering the words carefully. “When’s someday?”

“I don’t know. What, are you gonna put it on your calendar?”

“Maybe,” he says with a grin.

“I don’t know... maybe we just keep it this way until college or something. That gives us a long time to work on this,” I say, motioning to both of us.

“When you go to college, or when I do?”

“I guess me, would make the most sense.”

“What, and then all bets are off?”

“Maybe,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

“Then the line starts to form,” he says.

“A line, right,” I laugh at his insinuation. “Well, if there happens to be one, you may not even want to be in that line then,” I tell him.

“Doubtful,” he says, “but, what, in the meantime we can date other people?”

“I’m not,” I tell him. “I don’t want a boyfriend,” I remind him. “And you need some distance... I thought.”

“So we abstain from relationships altogether for a year and a half?”

“Romantic ones, yes.”

“I wouldn’t call any of my past relationships romantic,” he mutters.

“Or physical ones,” I amend my previous clarification.

“Not just from one another, but from everyone?”

“Yes?” I ask, now unsure of the idea. I thought he’d be in agreement with me. “I mean, you’ll focus on your painting more, I’ll focus on school so I can maybe get a scholarship to help my mom out. I’ll get to know the real you... you’ll get to know the real me...”