A Love Triangle Most Unusual (Season 1)

Third Wheeling for New Year

Some men are born with good luck dripping from their fingertips. 

And some men are born knowing that they are cursed, and must walk for the rest of their lives as if hanging by a rope around their neck, waiting for the day when it will eventually snap.

I, well...I guess I am closer to the latter group.  

"Oh dear, look how cold it is outside," Marie's mom said loudly.  "David, are you alright with driving back by yourself? The snow looks so heavy." 

It's New Year, I reminded myself. It's supposed to be a happy occasion. You should be smiling, not moping and pouting.

And yet, here I was, sitting in the corner with a cup of wine, right next to Marie's grandmother.

I sighed and turned to Marie's grandmother. "More noodles?" I asked.

"Yes, thank you," she replied, and I reached over to serve her some more.

As I did, I listened quietly to Dean and Marie's conversation from over near the fireplace. They didn't really discuss anything interesting, and I also didn't hear them say anything particularly worth remembering, just snatches of words about subjects I didn't understand and friends I'd never met, interspersed with Marie's warm, bright laugh and Dean's hearty chuckles.

I stared at his chiseled jaw, his thick, bushy, dark eyebrows, and the way his light brown hair fell into his eyes every time he laughed or smiled at Marie. The way she leaned against him, fitting her head into the space between his neck and shoulders...it made me wonder what it felt like to be nestled up against such a tall and handsome man. Even his laughter was attractive; boyish, but also contagious, and rumbly in a good sort of way. In any other universe, I might be sidling up to Dean and asking him for his number.

In this one, I was dreading him sharing it with the girl I liked. 

I stared at my bowl, trying to convince myself I wanted it.

It's a good bowl of good food, I reminded myself. It's good for you. Don't you want to eat it? Doesn't it look like it'd taste delicious?

But my appetite was gone. I felt not full, but empty...a hollow shell, with no taste and no sense of smell. If I ate anything, it would all taste the same; bland, unimportant, devoid of the joy that eating with Marie's family usually brought me.

And yet, for every dish that I turned down, for every bowl I had decided I didn't feel like eating, there would be Dean...sitting behind me, jovially and willingly offering up his plate for everyone to pile their noodles and steamed vegetables and spring rolls upon, heaping and stacking until it was full and spilling with bountiful blessings.

She'll probably want someone who is put together and not constantly depressed. Someone who is in love with life, and doesn't need to be persuaded out of suicide every few weeks.

I sighed and took a deep breath.

Dean and Marie had stopped talking. Now they were sitting in the living room on the couch together, quietly watching the fireplace with entranced looks on their faces. Dean adjusted himself, and his arm touched Marie's. She did not move. He placed his hand on hers without turning to look at her, as if it was second nature. She did not turn to look at him or pull away. Both of them continued staring into the flames of the fireplace, completely absorbed in their own little world together.

It's a lost cause, the voice inside my head whispered to me. You should go home now.

Better yet, I should just kill myself, I joked.  After all, that's what Mom has been telling me to do for the past nineteen years.

I checked on Marie's grandmother and asked her if she'd like any more soup or hot water.  She shook her head.  

"Here," she said.  "I have a present for you."

I raised an eyebrow, confused, but I knelt down so she could look me in the eye.

"Here," she said, depositing a small white box into my hands with her wrinkled, brown hands.  

I stared at the box, unsure how to respond. 

"Thank you so much," I said, a little touched.  "What-what is this for?"

"Protection," she muttered.  "Open it when you get home."

"Okay," I replied as obediently as passed, and hugged her one more time. 

I went around a bit, saying goodbye to Marie's parents and turning down offers to stay over.  That honor was clearly reserved for Dean.  Afterwards, I shrugged on my coat, waved to Marie (she seemed as if she was trying to catch my attention and say something, but I had already one foot out the door and couldn't hear her).  I then used a broom to shove away the thick layer of snow already coating my car, checked the antifreeze, and started backing out of the driveway.  

Outside, the snowstorm continued, thick and white and endless, but I ignored it.  

Next year, I will have a girlfriend of my own, I promised myself.  Or a handsome lover.  All to myself.  

And I will be so rich and successful, I won't feel jealous over Marie or Dean anymore.