LISA
“You’ve gone rogue, Lisa,” JJ says proudly. “I support it.”
I hadn’t intended to start my day on a video call with JJ, but at this point, it can’t make things worse. Right? I didn’t mean to tell him everything, but for once it felt nice to choose to share because I’m excited about something.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, JJ,” I groan. “Faking confidence can only go so far. I’m supposed to be staying out of trouble; I’ve made this massive deal about how much I need this job and now I feel like a hypocrite.”
“This woman likes you right . . .”
I massage the tension out of the back of my neck where it accumulates. “I think so. I might be wrong.”
“Nah, that wasn’t a question. This woman likes you and it doesn’t sound like you’re faking anything. You asked her to hang out with you today because you like her too. Are you faking anything when you hang out alone?”
Thinking about it, the answer is easy. “No. I feel like I can be myself with her.”
“Listen, buddy,” JJ says, clearing his throat. “I know you’ve got your whole homelife bag going on, or whatever is happening there, and I know you like to keep your head down, but don’t miss an opportunity to have fun and actually be happy because you’re too busy staring at the floor, trying to go unnoticed. You know you can always stay here if you need to avoid family drama until college restarts.”
“Thanks, JJ.”
“I’m pissed I had to graduate for people to realize how wise I am,” he grumbles. “Think about how much better everyone’s lives would’ve been if I was listened to.”
“I’ve always listened to you,” I argue. “I’ve been faking confidence for weeks.”
“Well remember, we’re not faking now. You are confident. You’re a tall, hot, well-educated hockey player. Women will look past every red flag for you. So, stop waiting for something bad to happen and go have fun.”
“I don’t think I have any red flags . . .”
“Oh, my sweet summer child,” he laughs. “You’re humble, and kind. That’s your red flag.”
“That seems totally fair actually. Thanks for chatting with me, man. I appreciate you.”
“Love you, Lisa. Speak soon.”
One day Jennie will take her clothes off in front of me and I won’t have to recite presidents in my head.
She kicks her shorts onto the t-shirt she’s already taken off and pulls a sock from each foot adding them to the pile and lies down on the picnic blanket. We’re more prepared than we were last time, with towels and an actual lunch to see us through the afternoon. “It’s so warm today,” she says, adjusting the material of her bikini.
I’ve seen what’s beneath the fabric, so I don’t know why I feel so intimidated by it.
“There’s going to be a thunderstorm later. It’ll cool down tomorrow.”
“Urgh, I absolutely hate thunder and lightning. Rosie is working tonight as well.” I crouch down to her clothes, folding them and adding them to mine. She sits up, resting on her elbows to watch me. “Why do you always fold everything? I feel like you’re constantly tidying up.”
This is the part where I ask her a question about herself. Where I deflect, where I’d keep her talking about herself until she was distracted enough to remember she asked me something in the first place. But the anxiety from trying to control a conversation in that way is exhausting and I’m tired of forcing my guard to stay up with her.
