I had just gotten out of my car when Brianna pulled into the driveway.
I was trapped. There was no way out of it—I would have to meet Thomas.
He wasn’t at all how I’d pictured him. Because Brianna described him as extremely bright, I thought he’d be like the bookkeeper who worked for Scrooge in Dickens’s Christmas Carol—wire-rim glasses like she used to wear, somebody with no social skills. The kind of person who’s stumped for a response if you ask, “How’s it going?”
He was better looking than I would have preferred, and more at ease with people. He shook my hand and told me how much he had looked forward to meeting me, adding, with an almost snobbish smile, “Brianna’s told me a lot about you.”
“She’s done the same about you.”
“Where do you work?” Thomas asked.
“I work for my grandfather,” I said.
“What firm?” he asked. He had an annoying tendency of standing too close while he talked.
“It’s not a law firm. Actually, it’s a lawn firm.”
Brianna winced.
“What?” Thomas asked.
“I help my grandfather maintain some apartment buildings. You know, routine stuff: leaky faucets, leaky toilets, leaky roofs. Oh, also, I mow lawns. We’ve got a big riding mower. If you have time while you’re here, drop by and I’ll let you try it out. It’s a beauty.”
Thomas looked confused. He looked at Brianna as if he couldn’t understand why she’d spend time with a common laborer. “Fascinating,” he said.
He had little or no interest in me after that. He turned to Brianna again. “Let’s get going.”
While Brianna took him inside to meet my grandparents, I went around to the back of the house to wait until they were gone. There had been a big wind the night before, and there were some branches and leaves lying on the ground. I got a rake and some pruning shears from the garage and was cleaning them up when Brianna came out to talk to me.
I could tell she was mad by the scowl on her face. “What was that all about?”
“What was what all about?”
She imitated me. “‘Oh, it’s not a law firm, it’s a lawn firm. If you want to ride my riding lawn mower, just come by.’ So what part are you playing today, Adam, the lowly hired man?”
“That’s right. That’s what I am.”
“Not to me, you aren’t.”
“Really? I find it interesting you never told Thomas what I do. Why’s that? Ashamed to admit you’re spending time with a guy who mows lawns for a living?”
“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”
“You don’t need to talk to me now, Brianna. Thomas is here. Why don’t you go inside and hang on his every word?”
She shook her head and then went back inside, and a short time later the two of them left.
I figured they wouldn’t be back until after midnight, so at eleven-fifteen I decided to get ready for bed so I wouldn’t have to talk to Thomas.
I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom when there was a knock on the bathroom door. I opened it and Thomas came in.
His hair was all mussed up. “Whoa! What a night!” he grinned.
“Oh?”
“Oh, yeah. She was all over me. I’m serious! She just couldn’t get enough of me. I did manage to hold her off, but it was all I could do to get out of her apartment.”
I felt sick to my stomach. “Oh,” was all I could say. I put my toothbrush in the cabinet and quickly left.
I couldn’t sleep. I’m not sure what angered me the most: that Brianna would be, as Thomas said, “all over him,” or that he would betray his relationship with her by telling me. Some things are best left unsaid.
On Saturday I woke up early, so I’d get away before Thomas got up. I didn’t want more details of what had gone on with him and Brianna the night before.
I drove south, along the coast, playing tourist and scoping out the beaches, looking for places where I might come the next time a sunny Saturday came my way.
I found a great little place called Spring Lake, a picturesque beach town on the Jersey coast. Entering the small town was like going back in time. Large, white, three- or four-story houses, built generations ago, when times were good, lined the narrow streets.
In the middle of the town there was pretty little park with a pond and a picturesque foot bridge. It was a storybook village of vacation homes, tiny shops, and cafés.
I walked along the beach for an hour and then sat for a while on a bench in the park, watching people walking their dogs, playing Frisbee, riding bikes, and enjoying the sunshine. The pace of things was so unhurried and relaxing that I promised myself to return someday.
I tried not to think about Brianna and Thomas, but I couldn’t get them out of my mind. I bought lunch from a hotdog stand near the beach and spent some time poking around in the souvenir shops. The whole time, I kept picturing Brianna and Thomas, laughing together, eating lunch, holding hands, and even kissing. It was driving me nuts, and I was relieved when I got home that night to find that Thomas had left.
On Sunday I went to church with my grandparents and then went home and took a nap.
Brianna phoned me around three in the afternoon. She told me she’d been asked to sing for a stake council meeting early Sunday morning on July 7, two weeks away. “I’d like you to play for me. I was wondering if we could get together this evening and practice.”
I was still mad at her. “Actually, I’ll be busy the rest of the day.”
A long pause. “The whole time?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Oh.”
A prolonged silence.
“Maybe sometime during the week then, okay?”
“I might be busy then, too. Why don’t you get someone else to accompany you?”
For the next few days I managed to avoid her. I didn’t return her phone calls and stayed busy.
At ten-thirty on Friday night, she phoned me. “I hate to bother you, but I’ve got water leaking in my bathroom,” she said. “Could you come over and look at it?”
I couldn’t turn her down for that.
When I arrived, she was waiting for me at the door. She led me to the bathroom and stood next to me as I looked in the cabinet under the sink.
“Nothing’s leaking now,” I said.
“It was.”
I stood up. We looked into each other’s eyes.
“Can you wait until it starts again?” she asked.
“That might be a long time.”
“I know.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I’ve missed you.”
I shook my head. “I find that hard to believe.” I started for her door.
“Why do you find it hard to believe?” she asked.
I turned to look at her. “Look, let’s not play games. Thomas told me what it was like being with you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, get off it, Brianna. I really don’t care what you two did together, but at least be honest with me.”
“What did he say?” she asked.
“You are such a hypocrite.”
“Just tell me what he said.”
“He said you, and I quote, ‘were all over him.’”
She looked shocked. “I can’t believe Thomas said that.”
“Why? Does it surprise you that he’d tell me?”
“No, it surprises me because it’s a downright lie. We kissed once at the door, but that’s all.”
“So why would he make up something like that?”
She handed me her cell phone. “Let’s call and find out.”
I handed the phone back to her. “You call him, tell him what I said, and then let me speak to him.”
She made the call. “Thomas, this is Brianna. I’m here talking with Adam. Did you tell him I was ‘all over you’?”
A long pause.
“Yes, he’s in my apartment . . . Yes, I know it’s late . . . Well, I?
??m sorry you’re upset that he’s still here . . . Thomas, I’m upset you would say something like that to anyone about us. Did you or did you not say that to him?”
A long pause while she listened to him. She began tapping the tabletop with her fingernails.
“I don’t know, Thomas. What do you think would be a definition of ‘all over me.’? Well, I suppose it is a possibility that it merely meant I was happy to be with you, but usually, I think it has a far different meaning.”
They wrangled like this for another five minutes, and then I grabbed the phone from her.
“Thomas, this is Adam. What were you thinking, telling me lies about Brianna?”
A long pause while he discussed things with his lawyer, which was himself. Then deciding that honesty might be the best policy, he said, “It was just a strategy to keep you two from seeing each other again.”
“So you told me a lie about Brianna and you, just as a strategic move?”
“I wouldn’t neccessarily categorize it as a lie.”
“Thomas, with all due respect, you’re a total jerk.” I ended the call.
I turned to Brianna. “How can you have anything to do with someone like that?”
The phone rang. Brianna picked it up and said hello, and then said to me, “It’s Thomas. He wants to apologize.”
“To me or to you?”
“To me,” she said.
“Sure, see you around.”
The next day, Brianna called. She told me Thomas had apologized for what he’d said, and that she was sure he wouldn’t ever do anything like that again.
“So you’re back together?” I asked.
“We are.”
“That’s just great,” I said sarcastically.
“Is there a chance you can accompany me when I sing next week?”
“I thought you were going to get someone else.”
“I haven’t been able to find anyone. Please, Adam, help me out.”
I didn’t want to do it, but in the end, I agreed to practice with her after church on Sunday. Of course, once my grandmother found out, she invited Brianna to have dinner with us.
On Sunday Brianna showed up at two-thirty in the afternoon. My grandparents said they were going to take an hour nap, and asked if we could do a few things in the kitchen.
I began peeling potatoes while Brianna was putting together a salad. For a few minutes, we worked in silence, then I asked, “So, how are things between you and Thomas?”
“We had a long talk last night, so things are good.”
“You’re still planning on getting married?”
“Yes, we are. Thomas explained what he meant by what he said to you. He just meant we were happy to see each other again.”
“Oh, sure, I see. It totally depends on your definition of ‘She was all over me.’”
“He won’t do it again.”
“I still think he’s a jerk.”
We fell silent again. But after a minute or two, Brianna said, “Adam, can we still see each other?”
“What would be the point?”
“There is no point. I just enjoy hanging out with you. You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”
It didn’t seem entirely right, but I had missed her. So even though there was no future in it for me, I nodded. “It’s okay with me if we see each other . . . until I go.”
“Good. Thanks.”
A few minutes later we started talking about sports, and I mentioned I was a big fan of the Utah Jazz. She started trashing them, so I quietly went to the sink and filled a glass with water, moved behind her, stuck my fingers in the water, and flicked some of it at her.
She turned to look at me. “Excuse me. But did you just throw water on me?”
“That’s right. You got a problem with that?” I did it again, this time in her face.
She got a determined look on her face and said, “All right, no more Sister Nice Guy!” She turned to the sink, filled a glass with water, and began stalking me around the kitchen.
I backed away. “Brianna. You need to think this through. I’m sure my grandmother wouldn’t appreciate you getting water all over the house.”
She looked chastened for a moment and lowered the glass. “You’re right,” she said, “but she probably wouldn’t mind my getting it all over you!”
With that she sprang at me and drenched the front of my shirt.
“Oh, is that the way it’s going to be! You are in so much trouble right now!”
I stepped into the laundry area and got a bucket, then took it to the sink and began filling it with water. I turned toward Brianna.
Her eyes got big, and she backed away from me, holding her hands up in front of her. “No, Adam, this is a Sunday! What do we do on a Sunday?”
“We have a water fight!”
And that is what we did.
It ended outside with me chasing her around the yard with what she assumed was a full pail of water. Our hair and clothes were wet, and we were both breathing hard when I finally cornered her. She flinched as I drew the bucket back, then screamed and turned away as I tossed the imaginary water at her. As soon as she realized I had fooled her, she darted for the hose, but I stepped in front of her and held out my hand.
“Truce?” I asked.
She hesitated a moment, trying to decide if I was being sincere, then took my hand and shook it.
“Truce.”
Laughing, we plopped down on some lawn chairs.
“That was so much fun,” she said. “It’s the kind of thing I hope my husband and I can do when we’re married.”
I found it interesting she didn’t mention Thomas. Instead it was “my husband.” I took it as a hopeful sign.
“It’s the kind of thing my real mom would have done,” I said.
“Probably so.”
“I like it when I’m more like her,” I said.
“I like it when you are too.”
On Monday, Brianna invited my grandparents and me to her apartment for dinner and family home evening. Eddie and Claire, of course, loved everything Brianna had done to decorate the place, and they raved about her cooking.
During dinner, my grandfather asked Brianna and me if we would like to go deep-sea fishing with him on Thursday, the Fourth of July. Brianna was enthused, and immediately said she would love to. I also said I’d go, but I really didn’t want to. It was hard for me, being with Brianna, when I knew there was no future in it for me. It was great doing things with her, but Thomas’s shadow was always there, reminding me she was already committed—to a guy I couldn’t stand.
On Tuesday, Brianna phoned and asked if we could practice the song she would be singing for stake council on Sunday. I told her I could practice with her the next night at nine-thirty. I didn’t tell my grandparents, though, because I didn’t want them to invite her to eat with us. I just wanted to practice and be done with it.
The next night, it took only twenty minutes to rehearse the song.
“Well, you probably need to go,” I said.
“Can we talk?”
“What do we have to talk about?”
“I need to ask your advice . . . about Thomas. Sometimes I don’t understand him.”
“And you think I do?”
“Please, Adam, as a friend, won’t you help me?”
Just as I was trying to decide how to tell her I didn’t want to talk to her, a thought came into my mind. Help her out if you can. She doesn’t have any family to go to.
I sighed. “Of course I will.”
We sat across the kitchen table with cookies and milk nearby.
“Sometimes I find it hard to talk to Thomas.”
“How come?”
She thought about it. “I’m not sure. With him no conversation lasts more than thirty seconds. I tell him my concern, and he gives me an answer. In his mind he’s ready to move on to another problem, but I feel like he still doesn’t know how I feel.”
“That must be really frustrating,”
I said, not vocalizing any of the quick solutions that came to my mind.
“It is. I don’t need him to solve all my problems. I just need him to listen to me.” She paused. “Like you do.”
“I’m glad I’m doing something right.”
“He and I have so many things we need to talk about. We need to talk about when we’d like to start a family, but when I bring up the subject, it’s like he doesn’t have time to discuss it.”
“Is he planning on giving birth to your children too?” I asked.
She smiled. “I’ll ask him that the next time we talk.” She put her hand on my arm. “You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever known and the best friend I’ve ever had.”
“Thanks.”
“Another thing bothers me about Thomas. He doesn’t like me talking about my mom. He says she’s dead and that I need to get over it. He says it doesn’t do any good talking about something that can’t be changed. Maybe he’s right, but I still feel a need to talk about how much I miss her.”
She continued to talk about her frustrations with Thomas. I didn’t have much advice for her, but she told me it had helped her just to be able to talk about it.
On Thursday, my grandfather took Brianna and me deep-sea fishing. We left early in the morning, and he paid for us to go on a charter boat. Brianna was the only woman. She caught two fish and was a big favorite with all the other men who were onboard. I didn’t catch anything, but I did manage to get seasick in front of everyone. So it was a day I won’t soon forget.
By Saturday, I was finally over feeling like I was pitching up and down on the deck of a boat, and just after noon, Brianna and I drove to Spring Lake, the beach town I’d discovered the day Brianna was out with Thomas.
We found a place to park, then spent some time wandering through the shops and browsing in an art gallery on the main street. But it was a beautiful sunny day with a light breeze blowing in off the ocean, and we had really come to enjoy the beach.
On the boardwalk an elderly woman sat at a card table, collecting a fee from those who wanted to use the beach.
We paid our money then used the public restroom to change into swimming suits before laying out a blanket and our cooler on the beach, staking out our claim.
As Brianna was sorting through our cooler, I tapped her on the head and yelled, “Last one in the water is a rotten egg!” And then I ran as fast as I could and splashed into the surf before diving into the water. She ran after me but stopped short of the water.