A Perfect Pair

Chapter Four

Nate didn’t see Josey once the next day, but spent the whole day annoyed at her, anyway.

And he had no idea why.

On the way to the Chinese take-out place, Josey had told him about the man in the video store—Mike or Mark or something. As they ripped open cartons of lo mein at her apartment, she’d informed him the guy lived only a few blocks away from them, on Columbus Avenue. And as Nate popped the movie in the VCR and fast-forwarded the previews, she mentioned that Mike or Mark had given her his phone number and they might go out next week.

And with each new casual revelation, Nate had vigorously nodded his head with an enthusiasm that wasn’t genuine.

When he went home, he’d brushed his teeth, hard. Then he’d stripped, dropping clothes all over the spotless bathroom floor. In two strides he was in his bedroom, where he flopped into bed and turned out the light. He’d squinched his eyes shut and forced himself to fall asleep, without any thinking.

But he’d gotten up with the Sunday dawn, a pink-and-gold vision he’d passed up in favor of sleep for many years. He tried to ignore it this time, too, but it rushed through the window underneath the blinds he had forgotten to pull down, and heated his face. He’d sworn under his breath and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

A lousy beginning to a lousy day.

He attempted to concentrate on television, on work, on practicing his golf swing in the living room. On anything but Josey’s voice in his head, sounding pleased about her first prospect.

First victim was probably more like it. That man had no idea what had hit him. A commitment-crazed, biologically ticking lunatic, that’s what, Nate told himself every hour.

And forty times during each hour he asked himself what his problem was. Each time, he didn’t answer, but rather swung the club with a bit more intensity than he ordinarily would have so close to his stereo equipment.

He didn’t feel like talking to anyone, so when the phone rang twice he didn’t pick it up, and both times the caller hung up before the answering machine clicked on. By the time evening came he’d successfully spent the entire day moping. He still had no grasp on what had caused his day-long aggravation, but by now it was out of his system.

Or so he thought.

Monday was just as bad. He arrived at the office an hour earlier than anyone else, but got nothing accomplished.

Okay, he told himself, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that I’m upset about Josey and her new video store pal. But why? Who cares who she meets and talks to? Who cares who she has a laugh with? She’s free to do whatever she pleases.

Maybe that was his problem. She was free to do whatever she pleased, and he—because of reasons he could never control—wasn’t free. And he would never be free to start the same search she had.

He didn’t want to be thinking like this. He didn’t want to remember anything, and he didn’t want to be preoccupied with it next time he saw her for fear he’d blurt out things he’d hidden from her, from everyone.

He was somewhat relieved when Derek called and suggested meeting at the Common for lunch. If anyone in this world was grounded in reality, it was his older brother.

And Nate wouldn’t have to fear breaking down and telling his story—because Derek knew the story. He had been there.

Nate had been waiting on the bench for only about three minutes when his brother jogged up, carrying a few battered books in one hand and stuffing a hot dog into his mouth with the other.

As he approached, Nate marveled at how his thirty-three-year-old brother could look so much like a twenty-something college student. He wore an Emerson College T-shirt and battered jeans, and the long laces on his basketball sneakers flopped up and down with each step. His hair was the same shade of brown as Nate’s, but Derek wore his a bit longer on top and was always pushing it back with his hand.

“Hi,” Derek said around bites. “I’m sorry. I was sitting in my ethics class for an hour and a half, fantasizing about a hot dog.” He gulped down the last bit. “Don’t worry, I’m still hungry for real lunch.”

“Real lunch” meant their favorite greasy-spoon coffee shop up the street where Nate always got his salad, but he suddenly wasn’t in the mood for sitting indoors. He was agitated, itchy to walk.

“No, let’s get a few more hot dogs and just wander around. It’s nice out.”

“I thought you hated hot dogs,” Derek commented as they headed across the grass toward the vendor in the middle of the Common. The old man lifted up the metal lid on his cart, sending a stream of steam into the air.

Nate pulled out his wallet and picked out several singles. “No, I just normally refuse to eat them because I know what’s in them. But I don’t hate them.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Derek said, tucking his books under his arm so he could balance two more hot dogs and a soda can as he headed to the nearest bench. Nate followed with his own lunch.

“Nobody’s making any sense these days. Why should I?” Nate asked belligerently, taking a huge bite of his hot dog. It was good.

“As a matter of fact, you are acting weird. You haven’t even asked me how class was or if you’re getting your money’s worth of tuition, the way I used to always ask you. And you haven’t reminded me that Thursday is three days away, so not to piss away my money until you come by to give me a check. And you haven’t mocked me on my choice of food. You haven’t gotten on my case about anything for five whole minutes. It’s a record for you. And to top it off, you, the original creature of habit, didn’t want to go to our usual restaurant.” Derek paused, seemingly lost in thought. Then he looked closely at Nate. “Okay, mister. Who are you and what have you done with Nathan Bennington?”

Nate couldn’t even laugh. “I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s the rest of the world that’s gone crazy.”

“Define ‘the rest of the world.’ Who, for example, is going crazy?”

“Josey, for a start.”

“She’s always crazy, isn’t she? That’s what we all like about her. What’s she been up to? Last time she—”

“I’ll tell you how she is,” Nate interrupted. “She’s gone off the deep end. She’s like a damn cat in heat. Sorry that sounds crude.”

Derek threw back his head and laughed. “I encourage crude. Cat in heat? Why?” He lowered his voice. “Are you saying she made some kind of move on you? Because if she did, I say it’s about ti—”

“Me? Not me. This has nothing to do with me. We’re friends.” Nate’s agitation level moved up still another notch. “She’s on this mission.”

“Mission?” Derek took a long swig of soda.

“Yeah, she’s on a mission to find the man of her dreams.”

“So what? She’s single. She’s a babe, in case you haven’t noticed. She’s got every right to find the man of her dreams.”

Nate hastily filled Derek in on the details of Josey’s perfect-man, perfect-family plan, feeling more and more aggravated with each additional word. When he got to his date-screening assignment, he was even more peeved by Derek’s loud burst of laughter.

“Nate, she’s got you figured out, that’s for sure. It’s kind of funny, actually.”

“No, it’s not funny. It’s really not funny when I’m standing at the other end of the video store, pretending not to know her while some slob she’s hitting on is drooling all over her in the foreign films section.”

His brother studied his face. “Don’t you think you’re getting a little too worked up about this? It’s probably some kind of phase. She’ll slow down. She’s a smart lady. She knows she can’t find a husband in a month, especially when she’s actively searching one out. Just go along with her for a while until she tires of this.”

“I am going along with her insane little crusade. It’s enough to make you sick. You’re right. She is a very intelligent woman. So when I see her looking at men like they’re meat in a butcher shop, it’s—it’s embarrassing. And disgusting.”

“I think you’re making a big thing out of nothing.”

Nate turned to watch a police horse clop by, its head bobbing with pride. “Maybe I am. It was driving me nuts all day yesterday. But why should I be so upset? It’s her life, after all.”

“That’s right.” Derek crumpled up the two pieces of wax paper that came with his hot dogs. “In fact,” he said slowly, “maybe instead of criticizing Josey’s idea, you should take a cue from her.”

Nate’s head snapped around to catch a glimpse of Derek’s boyish, troublemaker’s grin. “And what’s that supposed to mean, oh older-and-always-wiser brother of mine?”

“Simple. Maybe you should start looking for someone to make you happy.”

“Who says I’m not happy?”

Derek shrugged. “Well, I just think—”

“Besides,” Nate interrupted, “I’m busy.” He stood, an abrupt movement that shook the bench. He waited a second for Derek to get up, too, then turned and started down the longer path to the station, where he could catch the T back to his downtown office. Derek fell into step beside him, the rubber soles of his sneakers silencing his footfalls, while Nate’s loafer heels announced his.

“Yeah, you’re busy, all right,” Derek said in a mocking tone. “Busy taking care of everybody. Protecting the world from bad guys, not to mention trying to protect me from malnutrition and burnout. You’re trying like hell to take care of Josey, too, and you’re annoyed she doesn’t listen to your wisdom. You’re so busy taking care of everyone else on this planet you have no time for you. Or for a girlfriend. Is that it?”

“I’d say that’s pretty close, yeah. Girlfriends are a lot of work.”

“You love work.”

“No, Derek. What I mean is, every thirty-year-old woman out there is looking for a commitment. Now Josey is part of that group, too. I don’t want to get involved in that mess. I don’t want all that.”

“Is that true?”

“Yes, it is true. I don’t want a family. I don’t want children. I refuse to have children. And what’s more, you of all people ought to understand the reason for that.”

Derek moved off the path then, to where some fraternity-type guys were playing baseball on a fenced-in Little League field. Nate followed, and leaned on the fence next to his brother. He kept his eyes on the game but directed his comments to Nate. “Can’t you let it go? It’s over, Nate. It’s been over for years. Dad can’t hurt us now.”

“You’re wrong. Dad’s not here, but we’re still his blood. And deep down, we’re like him, dammit. We think we’re not, but we are. It’s inborn.”

“No, Nate. We’re different from him. We chose to leave. I went through it all, too. He was wrong, he was a horrible person. But he was him. I’m me, and I can choose to be a good person. So can you. Don’t deny yourself a life because you think you’re like him. You can have a wife, a family—”

“I’m through talking about this, Derek. Maybe you should study psychology and other forms of brain scrambling instead of news reporting.”

Derek faced him then, and his voice became a little sharper, a little harder. “You’re not like him,” he repeated. “And look what you’re doing to yourself. You’re letting this get in the way of you and Josey.”

Nate found it difficult to stare into the only pair of eyes that had seen what he had. He sighed and moved to the path again. They walked in silence for a few minutes before he said, “You’re right. Maybe that’s it. To be honest, I thought of that earlier today. I’m jealous of Josey chasing this dream of hers. It’s a normal dream, a normal goal everyone has, and I’m jealous because it’s something I can’t have.”

“That’s not really what I mean.”

They arrived at the Green Line T stop, and Nate fished in his pocket for change. “What do you mean?”

“I meant, you and Josey…” Derek shook his head. “Never mind. Just try not to give her a hard time. Like you said, it’s only natural for her to want to start a family. She doesn’t need crap from you.”

“The kind of crap I give you?”

“I’m your brother. I have to take it.”

Nate yanked open the subway entrance door. “I’ll drop by your place Thursday.”

“I know.” Derek walked away, but Nate heard him mutter. “Creature of habit.”

Josey was sitting at her desk, her head bent over math papers, when she heard footsteps in the hallway approaching her room, which was at the very end. All the female teachers’ heels had that authoritative sound, but these steps were slower and harder. A man’s dress shoes, Josey guessed, not taking her eyes off the current paper. She stopped pondering the topic when she realized she had marked seven out of ten answers as wrong. She glanced at the name on top. Jason, she thought, what is the matter with you? You came for extra help last week….

The “Hi” from the doorway startled her. She turned with a gasp and saw Nate standing there. She let all her breath out in an audible whoosh and bent to the floor, groping around with her fingers for the red pen she’d dropped.

“Nate!” she gasped. “Way to scare a person. Sneaking up on me.”

“Sorry, teach,” Nate said in a sheepish student’s voice.

“That’s just not enough,” Josey replied haughtily. “Go stand in the corner.”

He pretended to head to a corner, then stopped. “Do you really make kids stand in the corner?”

“I’m usually a little bit more creative than that,” Josey said, retrieving her pen from where it had landed near her foot.

“What do you do?”

“Oh, if I catch you passing a note, I tack it up to the bulletin board behind me here, so everyone in the class can read it at their leisure.”

“Harsh.”

“If I catch you chewing gum, I make you stick it on your nose.”

“Gross.”

“And if I catch you cheating, I make you write an essay about how brilliant the student is that you were trying to cheat off of.”

“Wow. You would have been my most hated teacher. I did all those things. Except the cheating, of course.”

“I’ll bet.”

“But come to think of it, all my teachers were old hags.”

“Nate!”

“They were. I probably would have had a big crush on you, though.”

An unexpected flush of embarrassment swept over Josey. “Nate, all your teachers were probably my age. They just seemed like old hags to you at age eight.”

“Untrue. I caught my second-grade teacher cleaning her dentures once.”

“You did not!”

“I swear it.” He pushed a student’s chair out from a tiny desk and tentatively sat down in it. Apparently deciding the short metal legs would hold him, he relaxed.

“You’re finished with work awfully early today, aren’t you?” Josey asked.

“I was feeling pretty lousy, so I went in early and knocked off early.”

“Oh. Were you not feeling well yesterday, either? I called you a couple of times but I thought you were out.”

“No,” Nate answered, stretching one long leg out in front of him and inspecting his pants leg. For lint, probably, Josey thought. “I just didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”

That was unlike him, but before she could start in about it, a small scuffling noise drew her attention to the door, where a little girl with a blond ponytail stood, hesitant to enter, glancing uncomfortably at Nate. She brushed a pink sneaker back and forth on the floor.

“Sara! What are you doing here so late?”

“I was playing on the swings with Joan and Courtney, and I remembered I forgot my spelling book.”

“Well, then, you’re lucky I’m still here. Run and get it.”

Sara didn’t make a move. She just stared at Nate.

“That’s a friend of mine. Mr. Bennington.” Josey waited for Nate to introduce himself or say something to put her student at ease, but for some strange reason—he looked as nervous as the child did. They just watched each other in a wary game of size-up.

It was Sara who broke the silence. “That’s my desk,” she said, her words turning forceful. “You’re sitting in my seat.”

Nate jumped up with a guilty look on his face, muttering, “I’m sorry.” He put his hands behind his back. His masculine frame towered over all the desks and chairs, making it seem like he had just stumbled into a dollhouse. Sara walked past him to her desk, knelt down and pushed her arm into it, fumbling. She slid her spelling book out of the mess, bending the soft cover back as she did so. She smoothed it out with a flat palm and then, as an afterthought, pulled out a thick round pen. She held it toward Nate. “Look at my pen.”

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