Maybe It's Not My Weekend

Weightlessness is defined as a phenomenon experienced during freefall.

That’s fact. However, there is another type of weightlessness that’s synonymous with freedom. This type of weightlessness can only be achieved through having no worries. Hakuna Matata, if you will. But even more real. It’s achieved through letting the world do its thing while you just go with the flow. No drama.

Even though some would say drama is unnecessary, like Skye Tuccillo, Skye knows that you can never avoid drama; that it always, and she does mean always, finds you. She knows this, but she can’t help hoping for weightlessness (the second type) because it too, creates drama.

It would be very, very nice to say that Skye has had her share of drama. It might even be generous to say she’s had a couple lifetimes of drama. But the cold, hard truth is that Skye’s had a lot more drama than that. It’s almost like drama and her are magnets with opposite charges.

They’re just attracted to each other. And once they connect, they never let go.

And what causes the female population of the world the most drama? That’s right, you guessed it.

Boys. And Skye has had many samplings.

On average, a woman dates fifteen men (not counting speed dating) in her lifetime. Her lifetime. That’s like, eighty years. Skye is twenty-four and has dated one hundred and thirty seven.

One hundred and thirty seven. It’s almost like there was a flavour of the week. It started out slow… the best friend she had in the fourth grade. The boy who teased her too much in the fifth. So on and so forth until the tenth grade when things really started to pick up. There was no longer one every year, now it was one every month. The guy she bumped into at the record store. The handsome biker from the dentist’s office. It wasn’t as though Skye went looking for these men. They just managed to find her, were intrigued about her name when she introduced herself, and decided to give it a go.

After high school, Skye had a date every three weeks. Until this last year where she had a date every other week; sometimes even every week. But right now, and for the entire month of December, the well had been dry. No dates, no phone calls. And while some girls would’ve been distraught, Skye was blissfully happy. Things were going as they should, everything clicked by like clockwork.

No drama. She felt weightless.

And then she was invited to this New Year’s Eve party by Amanda and Skye couldn’t say no. Skye could never say no when the situation warranted it. Not when the guy of the week said he could never be in a monogamous relationship (a really, really huge red-fucking-flag) but would she go out with him anyway? Yes. She said yes to all the guys who asked because she decided that you never knew who someone was on the inside. That maybe she could change that one guy from the guy he claimed to be. That looks and outward demeanor weren’t everything.

But they certainly told you a lot about the person you’re seeing. Still, Skye couldn’t help but be optimistic. She’d had a charming phone conversation earlier in the day and she’d thought it had been going well, but alas, Hugh didn’t ask her out. And so, she was here in a ballroom, wearing a slightly form-fitting purple dress so as not to attract attention to herself.

Unfortunately, the lack of attention didn’t last long when Greg walked up to her in a flattering black tuxedo and asked if he could get her a glass of champagne.

“Oh, sure, that’d be lovely,” Skye answered out of habit. Damn it Skye, you had things going for a whole month, even despite your attempts! Don’t blow it and let him ask you out, you know you can’t say no.

“Here you are,” he presented her with a tall glass of the bubbling alcohol. “My name’s Greg Cowan,” he introduced himself and held his hand out for a shake. Skye paused, wanting to turn tail and leave without another word, but politeness had been programmed into her since birth.

“Thank you, I’m Skye Tuccillo,” she grasped his hand and let go as soon as the shake was over. Greg opened his mouth to say something, but Skye took quick evasive measures. “Sorry Greg, I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve just seen Amanda and I really must thank her for inviting me,” and with that, she walked hurriedly away, nowhere near the direction of Amanda Coppell.

“I’m getting too damn old for this,” Skye muttered to herself. And a part of her believes she was right. But she was only twenty-four years old, she had lots of time left. “I’m getting too damn old to be dating a new guy every couple of weeks,” she elaborated.

“Too right, Skye, too right,” said an amused voice from behind her. Skye turned only to come face to face with Amanda.

“Oh Amanda, thank God. I just told that guy over there I was looking for you,” Skye explained.

“I heard. Which is why I brought myself over to you because you weren’t heading in the right direction. Unless of course, you were lying to him,” Amanda was too damn perceptive. And when she raised an inquiring eyebrow at Skye at the end of the sentence, Skye knew she could lie to hundreds of guys, but never to Amanda.

“I needed a quick escape. You know I’m far too optimistic for my own good. I couldn’t let him get anywhere near asking me out,” Skye sighed and glanced back at Greg. He was fully immersed in a conversation with another man, dark-haired with a strong build. If Skye was on the market, she might have been interested.

He’s probably too self-centered and somehow turns every conversation into one about himself, Skye thought, trying to somehow make him seem less hot.

“Don’t even think about it,” Amanda’s disapproving voice told her. Skye turned back to face her, knowing Amanda knew her far too well. Knew what was attractive to Skye.

“Okay, I won’t,” Skye promised. Amanda gazed at her for a second before she moved away to rejoin the crowd.

“Oh, there you are, Skye,” Greg said, bringing Skye’s attention back to the vicinity and not on Amanda’s form growing smaller with every step.

“Hello,” Skye offered as she turned to give him a thorough once over. He wasn’t bad looking, she decided. Definitely worth a date. Maybe she’d just see this through.

“Can I introduce you to someone?” Greg asked, eyes alight.

“Of course,” Skye answered, taking in his slightly shaggy dirty-blonde hair, his clear green eyes. Not bad at all, Skye confirmed.

“This is Vincent. Vincent this is Skye,” Greg introduced the two and Skye shook Vincent’s hand. “This is the girl I was telling you about, Vince,” Greg continued. What was he saying about me? Skye wondered.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. For the five minutes Greg has seemed to know you, he’s certainly grown fond of you. You must have a certain charisma,” Vincent murmured quietly, with the slightest hint of sarcasm. Skye was a little taken aback and from Greg’s reaction, it showed plainly on her face.

“You’ll have to forgive my boyfriend. Sometimes he doesn’t know how to be nice,” Greg laughed as Skye’s mind turned blank. Greg is gay? Just my damn luck, Skye thought sadly. You idiot! You don’t want another boyfriend! Skye reminded herself.

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Skye smiled. “I think I’m going to go out onto the balcony for a moment, if you’ll both excuse me,” Skye barely saw them nod their heads before she headed straight as an arrow for the balcony door, picking two more glasses of champagne off a passing tray. A decent temporary pick-me-up, Skye decided as the balcony door swung shut behind her. She balanced the two glasses of champagne on the thin railing.

“Guess it’s just not my weekend. First, I get nowhere with Hugh. Then, Greg is gay,” Skye sighed. “But did I really want to go out with either of them? Or did I want to go out with them because I thought they wanted to go out with me?” Skye wondered aloud before taking a large sip of champagne. She looked down at her glass. “Amanda really does throw the most exquisite parties… I should probably take another English class so that I fit in better with these Orange County folks,” Skye trailed off as she lost herself in the glow of porch lights from the surrounding homes.

Skye was brought back to the present when a male voice started counting back from ten. New Year’s resolution… come on, Skye, think fast! “It’s going to be my year. I’m going to do what I want and I’m going to say no for once, because I keep saying yes and nothing ever changes. I’m sick of wasting my time,” Skye decided.

“Do you not usually say no?” a velvety voice asked her from the doorway. Skye fought the urge to turn. If she saw who it was, she might not get away to fulfill her resolution.

“I’m working on it,” Skye replied truthfully. Footsteps got closer to her as the mysterious man appeared on her right. Skye turned her head slightly away from him.

“Did you know I was coming out here?” the man asked, gesturing to the other glass of champagne.

Skye fought the urge to scoff. “Of course not. I’d gotten that for myself. But I suppose you’re welcome to it, if you’ll excuse me,” Skye backed away from the railing.

The man stared after her, intrigued by her evasion. He grasped the champagne flute and headed back inside to the party.

Skye was saying her goodbye to Amanda when the mystery man spotted her. Brief eye contact was all he received before she was opening the door and walking out. The man quickly worked his way through the crowd and said a quick thanks to Amanda, who watched amused, a twinkle in her eye.

“Well, it’s about time Skye met a real man,” Amanda murmured before being drawn back in to the party mood.

The man raced down the steps only to find the valet bringing a Volvo to the front gate where Skye stood waiting, patiently.

“Could you give me a phone number or something to reach you?” he asked as he got within earshot. Skye stared at him.

“Now why would I do that?” Skye replied, uncertain. This could be her first chance to say no. Her chance to make it hard for the man this time.

“Because I’d like to call you,” the man answered.

“Do I at least get to know your name?” Skye replied, receiving the keys from the valet’s hand.

“Nikolai,” the man answered. A Russian name, no doubt. But the brown hair didn’t suit the Russian stereotype.

Skye decided on a fitting answer. She wasn’t really saying no, but it was close. “My name is Skye Tuccillo. If you want to call me so badly, you can find my number,” she informed Nikolai as she opened the car door and stepped in. Nikolai rushed to get more information, but Skye drove off, certain he wouldn’t call.

Nikolai summoned his car from the valet and drove home amazed. For someone who doesn’t say no, that sounded an awful lot like a no. He couldn’t deny that Skye had intrigued him and when he got home, after a long shower and a short nap he pulled out the dusty phonebook he kept under the kitchen sink and flipped to the T’s.

Skye, meanwhile, was perfectly at peace. She thought she’d done perfectly well in stopping Nikolai’s advances. She was ready to get out of this rut she was in; this constant need to date. She was determined not to waste a single moment of this year. That it would be hers; whatever she wanted she would find a way to get. She wanted to go to a club on Saturday and who better to invite than Amanda? The girl could be a total polite rich girl, but she had a partier in her as well.

Skye wanted to get a little… reckless.
And she would have, if Nikolai hadn’t called the next day at four in the afternoon.

“Hello?” Skye had answered, somewhat groggily.

“Hello, Skye. I was wondering if you would care to meet me for coffee in half an hour. Corner of Pine and Adanac,” Nikolai asked, hoping for a yes.

“How did you get my number?” Skye demanded, her tired state of mind making her think on one track.

“Let’s just say there are seventeen S. Tuccillo’s in the phonebook and you had to be the last one on the list,” Nikolai chuckled. “So how ‘bout it, do we have a meeting?” Nikolai continued.

Skye had never had someone pursue her like this. Calling sixteen other girls trying to find her? Well, he seemed interesting to say the least and it was only coffee. She might get a friend out of it… “Alright. But it’s not a date,” Skye said, determined to get that clear.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, love. But one day it may turn into a date. After all, I didn’t call seventeen S. Tuccillo’s to be denied one date. But I’ll work on it,” Nikolai promised before he hung up.

Skye sat there for a moment, flabbergasted.

To this day, the story of how the married couple came to be is a fan favourite and Skye can still hardly believe that her Nikolai called seventeen people to find her.