Attachments a novel, p.25
Attachments: A Novel,
p.25
I told Derek that if I get cornered into drinking appletinis on a weeknight, I’m dragging his big mouth with me.
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
Seriously …there’s nothing keeping you from making contact with YCG now.
<
<
<
<
<
CHAPTER 80
EMILIE STOPPED INTO the IT office Thursday night between editions. She did that now, a few times a week, just to say hi. Well, not just to say hi, Lincoln knew she was interested in him. But he hadn’t decided yet what do with that knowledge.
He was interested in feeling the way he felt around Emilie. Like the brightest, shiniest thing in the room. Tall. And smart. And funny. When Emilie was around, he never fumbled his Christopher Walken impression. But he couldn’t see anything in her eyes past his own reflection. And now that Beth was back, he couldn’t make himself want to.
Emilie was twirling her ponytail around her fingers. “So, a few of us are going to do karaoke tomorrow night, there’s a cheesy bar in Bellevue, you should totally come, it’s going to be fun …”
“It sounds fun,” Lincoln said. “But I play Dungeons & Dragons on Saturday nights. Usually.” He’d missed some more games lately, he’d wanted to have the weekends to himself in his new apartment. “It’s been a few weeks, so I really can’t miss tomorrow night.”
“Oh, you play Dungeons & Dragons?”
“Yeah … ,” he said.
“That’s cool … ,” she said.
That made Lincoln smile. Which made Emilie smile even wider. Which made him feel kind of guilty.
DAVE ANSWERED THE door Saturday night. He looked at Lincoln and frowned.
“Either you’re in the game or you’re not,” Dave said, after Christine had set Lincoln up with a plate of homemade tacos and a flagon (an actual flagon) of beer. “You can’t just drop in now and then.”
Dave pointed to Troy, who was trying not drip taco juice onto his faded Rush T-shirt. “Troy has been dragging your unconscious dwarf on an earth sled, just to keep you in the campaign. You’re a constant drain on his magic.”
“It’s the least I can do,” Troy said formally. “I’ve owed ’Smov a life debt since we battled side by side in the Free City of Greyhawk.”
“Troy, that was seven years ago,” Dave said, pained, “and that entire adventure was outside of continuity.”
“I wouldn’t expect a halfling like you to understand the nature of a life debt,” Troy said.
“Thank you, Troy,” Lincoln said, bowing his head.
“It’s an honor, brother.”
“I’m trying to run a campaign here,” Dave said. “This isn’t improv. It takes planning. I need to know who I have to work with.”
“Maybe Lincoln has had a good reason to stay close to home,” Christine said. She smiled at him, hopefully.
“We all have good reasons not to be here,” Larry said, frowning. “Do you think I don’t have anything more important to do?”
“I could be at the hospital, saving lives,” Teddy said flatly.
“I could be at my high school reunion,” Rick murmured.
“You guys aren’t helping,” Christine said. She looked back at Lincoln again, raising her eyebrows expectantly.
“Well,” he said, swallowing. “Actually, I do have news.” Christine clasped her hands. “I moved into an apartment.”
They all looked up.
“You moved out of your mom’s house?” Troy said.
“It’s about damn time,” Larry said.
“’Smov,” Troy said, leaning in for a sandalwood-thick hug, “I’m so proud of you.” Lincoln hugged him back.
Rick smiled.
“And I’m so proud of you,” Christine said. “That isn’t even the good news I was expecting.”
“I don’t know,” Dave said, rubbing his beard. “If I could go back to living rent-free, I would.”
“I never thought you’d do it, Lincoln,” Larry said. “I thought you were one of those guys.”
Lincoln winced.
“I never thought he’d move out of the dorms,” Dave said.
“Okay,” Lincoln said. “Enough.” He’d wanted them to be happy for him, but not this happy. Not this surprised. He hadn’t realized that everyone—even Troy, who lived in a studio apartment above an auto body shop—felt sorry for him. It was like getting congratulated for losing weight when you didn’t think anyone else had noticed that you needed to.
Christine was grinning at him across the table. Even the baby in the sling was smiling. Lincoln decided to smile, too.
“Are we going to play or not?” Teddy said. “My shift starts in six hours.”
“Now, we just have to find you a woman,” Troy said, thumping Lincoln on the back.
“Enough,” Lincoln said, “let’s play.”
“And with a crack of thunder,” Dave said, “black clouds swept over the hills of Kara-Tur …”
CHAPTER 81
From: Jennifer Scribner-Snyder
To: Beth Fremont
Sent: Mon, 03/13/2000 3:08 PM
Subject: This message was almost about Doritos.
But I don’t think I have it in me. I don’t have it in me to be trivial.
<
<
<
What do you usually listen to on the way to work?
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
CHAPTER 82
THAT NIGHT, LYING in his new bed, staring at his new ceiling, Lincoln thought furiously. The same thoughts over and over again, until trying not to think them was like trying to get a song out of his head.
Hi, I’m Lincoln. I’ve seen you in the break room …
Hi, I’m Lincoln, Doris’s friend …
Hi, have we met before? In the break room? I’m Doris’s friend …
Hi, I’m Lincoln. I work downstairs in the information technology office …
Hi, I work downstairs, in computer support, my name is Lincoln. Look, I know this might seem out of the blue, but would you like to have coffee sometime?
Would you like to get dinner sometime?
Would you like to join Doris and me in the break room? My mom cooks for us.
Would you like to go out? For a drink? Or coffee? Or dinner?
Before we go, there’s something I need to tell you.
I think, before we go, I should confess something.
I have secrets, Beth, secrets that I’ll never reveal, and you’re just going to have to be okay with that. That’s just the kind of guy I am.
What if I told you that I have a secret, one secret, that you must never ask me to share with you? Because if you ask, I’ll have to tell you the truth. But if I tell you the truth, we’ll never be happy. It’s kind of a Beauty and the Beast/Rumpelstiltskin/Crane Wife thing …
Hi, my name is Lincoln, I work downstairs. Would you like to get together sometime, maybe go out?
LINCOLN HAD AN apartment-warming party that weekend. Eve had suggested it. “It’ll be like your coming-out party,” she said, “you know, your cotillion.”
“Jesus,” Lincoln said, “don’t put either of those on the invitations.”
His mom brought dinner—lasagna and stuffed artichokes and honey ricotta pie—as well as a complete set of silverware, world music CDs, and fresh flowers. She insisted on answering the door when it buzzed.
“She’s acting like she owns the place,” Eve complained.
Lincoln smiled. He was already eating an artichoke. So was Eve. “Isn’t it enough to know that she doesn’t?”
Doris was the first unrelated guest to arrive. She brought a date, a retired pressman, and a pan of brownies, and she greeted Lincoln’s mother like they were old school chums. “Maureen! Look at you!”
Chuck came. With his practically-not-estranged-anymore wife. Justin and Dena couldn’t come, they were going to Vegas for the weekend. But most of the D&D players came, and Dave and Christine brought their kids. (As well as their dice, you know, just in case.)
Everyone said nice things about Lincoln’s apartment and even nicer things about his mom’s lasagna. After Doris and Chuck left, the party did in fact turn into a D&D session. Jake Jr. was mesmerized. He wanted to stay and learn how to play. Eve was horrified. “You’re too young,” she said, “and too socially adept.”
“I’m buying him dice for his eleventh birthday,” Lincoln said.
His mother stayed until almost midnight. She and Christine did the dishes together and had a two-hour conversation about natural childbirth and raw milk. They exchanged telephone numbers.
“Your mother is so wise,” Christine said later. “There’s so much I can learn from her.”
When the last guest left, Lincoln imagined what it would be like to have someone standing next to him at the door. He imagined Beth gathering up glasses in the living room, falling into the bed next to him.
Hi, my name is Lincoln, we’ve almost met a few times in the break room. Look, I know this is kind of out of the blue, but would you like to go somewhere, sometime? And talk?
CHAPTER 83
LINCOLN GOT A haircut before work Monday night. The girl at Great Cuts asked him what style he wanted, and he told her that he wanted hair like Morrissey. He’d always wanted hair like Morrissey. She didn’t know who that was. “James Dean?” he asked.
“Let me talk to my supervisor,” she said.
Her supervisor was in her forties. She carried a hot pink comb with a handle as sharp as a dagger. “James Dean … ,” she said, tapping her chin with the comb. “Are you sure you don’t want George Clooney?” He didn’t.
“We’ll give it our best shot,” she said.
Lincoln was embarrassingly pleased with the results. He bought something called styling wax and left a 75-percent tip. (Nine dollars.)
He decided to go home and change before he went to work. He put on a short-sleeved white T-shirt and tried not to flex when he checked his reflection in the mirror. Is this what women felt like when they put on miniskirts?
When he got to The Courier, he walked straight to the newsroom, straight to Beth’s desk. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do when he got there. He wasn’t thinking about that, because if he thought about it—if he thought any of this through—he wouldn’t do it. And he needed to do it. More than he needed to do anything, at this moment, on this day, in this lifetime, in this incarnation, on this Monday afternoon, Lincoln needed to talk to Beth.
And he needed to be the one who started the conversation. He needed to stand at her desk, in daylight, with his shoulders back and his head up, and his hands—God, what would he do with his hands? Don’t think about it. Don’t think. For once in your godforsaken life, don’t think.
Lincoln walked to Beth’s cubicle, not trying to pretend he was doing something else. Not sneaking. Not furtive. (Not that anyone was probably paying attention.)
He walked right up to her cubicle.
She wasn’t there.
Lincoln hadn’t thought about what he would do if Beth wasn’t there. So he just stood at her cubicle. With his shoulders back and his head up and everything. He looked at her desk. He looked around. He thought about the last time he’d tried to talk to her, on New Year’s Eve, and how he’d run away. I’m not running away this time, he thought.
The man in the next cubicle—“Derek Hastings,” his nameplate said—was on the phone, but watching Lincoln. After a few minutes, a conversation about the local zoo and panda bears, Derek hung up the phone.
“Can I help you?” he said.
“Uh, no,” Lincoln said. “I need to talk to Beth, Beth Fremont.”
“She’s not here,” Derek said.
Lincoln nodded.
“Can I give her a message?” Derek asked. “Is there something wrong with her computer?”
So, he knows what I do, who I am, Lincoln thought. It’s not a secret.
“No,” Lincoln said, standing his ground. Standing Beth’s ground.
Derek eyed him suspiciously, and slowly unwrapped a Dum Dum sucker, the kind they give to kids in bank drive-throughs. Lincoln could handle the suspicion and the staring, but he couldn’t handle the Dum Dum.
“I’ll come back,” he said, as much to himself as to Derek. I can’t make myself talk to her if she isn’t even here, he thought. This doesn’t count as running away.
CHAPTER 84
From: Beth Fremont
To: Jennifer Scribner-Snyder
Sent: Mon, 03/20/2000 12:22 PM
Subject: Remember when I said it was too soon to date?
Guess I was wrong. I have a date.
<
<
