Fifty Words for Embarrassment

As you can imagine, things were really, really good for a couple of minutes. Once we lost the good, though, things sank faster than I could have believed possible. Reed stepped away from me, one hand held up in the air as though that might distance me further. His shirt was covered very precisely with paint, forming the shape of me and showing just where I had been putting my hands just a minute before.

Horror settled on me even before I understood what was happening. Then Reed explained his averse reaction and my horror turned into absolute mortification. I almost want to skip over this part and just tell you how it all worked out in the end, but I think I need to tell it as much as you need to hear. What he said was, "I have a girlfriend."

Well, that explained a lot, though it certainly made me a little more confused about why he had come out to NYC to find me and Florence. I didn't know what to say to him, couldn't think past the internal beration of myself. I had had no way of knowing about his girlfriend, but still I blamed myself for this humiliation. I couldn't form words past it. I turned away and was about to hurry inside, where I could hopefully lose him in the crowd, find Florence, and get away, but Reed grabbed my wrist. I could have easily wrenched myself from his grip- it was still slippery from the paint- but I didn't. If he had something to say, I would listen. Maybe it would help?

Doubtfully.

"I'm sorry, Rhea. I should have explained this to you a long time ago, but I didn't know how to start. It's complicated."

I refrained from saying that 'it's complicated' was the standard explanation of asshats everywhere. Instead I fixed him with what I hoped was a steely gaze. I didn't want him to see how much I was hurting.

"She lives in New Hampshire, just moved there last month because her parents died and that's where her uncle is. I was working up to breaking up with her when the accident happened. How could I hurt her when she was already hurting so much?" I stared at him. This did explain things, I thought. I understood now why he had been acting so interested in me while staying painfully distant.

I should have known there was some real reason for that, but I, fool that I was, had thought that maybe he was just feeling trepidation over making the first move. That was normal, I had reasoned. It was even a little cute, that he might be nervous around me.

This was not cute, not at all.

"Rhea, please say something." I tilted my head, examining him, searching for words that could make this better. There weren't any.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Reed." Blast. Even saying his name made my stomach turn. It used to be something I enjoyed, the way that our names were kind of similar. I used to wonder whether I preferred "Rhea and Reed" more or "Reed and Rhea."

Now I knew that our names had no business together, and neither did we.

"I'm sorry, Rhea. You must know how I feel about you. Things haven't been right with Lissa for a while. I was trying to make it work before." He spared me from having to ask 'before what?' and continued: "I mean, before I met you. It wasn't working, though, and I already knew that. We've been together for three years, though. Ending it... it isn't easy, Rhea. So I was putting it off. Then her parents were in an accident. Then was the week that her dad spent on life support before he died. After that, she was grieving, then agonizing over having to move. She still hasn't recovered. There's no right time to handle this. You have to understand that things not working out in our relationship doesn't mean that I don't care about her."

"I understand," I said. I really did. His explanation didn't make my own behavior any less mortifying. "Now you have to explain what on earth you're doing here."

"I was worried," he said. I gave him a look that told him exactly what I thought about this explanation, which was that it was not really an explanation at all. Reed sighed. "You're a beautiful girl, off with another beautiful girl, alone in the big city and looking for trouble. Anyone would be concerned, except for, it seems, your mothers."

"I know how to handle myself." I hoped that he wouldn't point out that I was weaker than your average kindergarten student. If nothing else, I thought, I could run, and wasn't that better than fighting if someone was after me and Florence?

"I know you do," Reed said. Ah, he knew better than to argue, then. That would have counted in his favor, if he wasn't so... out of favor just then. "But is it wrong of me to be concerned? Besides, I only was going to prom to see you. It's not really my scene, you know." I managed, barely, to keep agitation from showing on my face. This was exactly the sort of thing that he had been saying for the past month and a half to me, the sort of thing that had had me thinking he was interested in me.

It was the last thing I wanted to hear now, though it was like a salve on my humiliation to be reminded that I hadn't been in the wrong, that he was the one who had spent the past few weeks leading me on. And that was a thought that burned. I spun and headed inside. It was well past time to execute my plan from before- running away, finding Flo, and keeping away from Reed. It was a little disheartening when he didn't even try to stop me from going inside. Florence was swaying against some guy who was twice her size and shook her head firmly when I gestured toward the door.

Well, we had driven all the way up here. Might as well make the most of it. I glanced around and took hold of the first guy I saw who didn't already have a partner. I pulled him onto the floor and, having caught a glimpse of Reed standing off to the side, pressed myself against the stranger and danced. Thankfully, he jumped right in, grinning. "Nice to meet you," he said to me.

I winced. "Nice to meet you. I'm Rhea." I wondered, a moment later, whether I shouldn't have used my real name. Too late to worry about it now.

"I'm Patrick." Patrick spun me around and another spray of paint flew off of a nearby drum set, right across my face. We both laughed, and I was glad that there was no pressure to find something to talk about. I was glad also when he brushed his fingers against my cheek and used the paint to write his number on the underside of my arm, since I knew that Reed was watching. Was I being petty? Shamelessly. And I don't think it was wrong of me to want him to feel jealousy, since that was exactly what he had just done to me-- and on a bigger, more painful scale, I might add.

I took another spin with Patrick and glanced once more to Reed's spot. He had left.

***

As you might imagine, the ride home was rough. I was inconsolable. Florence tried to stay positive, and I loved her for it. She tried all kinds of things, actually, like putting Reed down, defending him, assuring me that everything would work out and that if it didn't she would kick his bum for me, and deciding that we needed to have a spontaneous trip.

"Hey, Florence?" I said when she suggested this. "You do realize that this is a spontaneous trip that we're on, right? Do you really think that prolonging it is going to make things any better?"

"This was a perfectly nice adventure before Reed showed up, Rhea," Florence pointed out. "Logically speaking, should that not mean that going off to some place where he won't be able to find us will be equally nice?"

I shrugged. "I'd have to call my mom and clear it with her." Not to mention, I thought, the cost of it. My last paycheck had been considerably larger than usual. I could afford to splurge a little bit. "But it would be nice not to see him for a couple of days. It's the only way I'll ever be able to stay mad. He deserves to have someone be mad at him."

"Damn right. So let's stay the hell away from that asshole," Florence said, and laughed. I was startled into laughter, too. Flo, you see, never swore. Never. Coming from her, it was like a kitten hissing. You could tell the effort was there, but there was no real intimidation.

At the next split in the freeway, Florence took the left split instead of the right one, the one that would take us home. "What's our destination?" I asked.

Florence shrugged. "Niagara falls?"

"I don't have a passport and everything good's on the Canadian side."

"How much do you care about that?"

"Not at all, actually." Flo grinned at me and I pulled up the GPS on my phone, smiling back at her.

***

We didn't sleep that night, choosing instead to hang out in view of the Falls, occassionally moving when we thought someone was coming our way. In the morning, we decided to hit a movie theater, since we had skipped out on our traditional first Saturday of the month outing this time, it being prom weekend. Movies were definitely in order.

The trouble with seeing a movie was that I was certainly not in the mood for watching a romantic comedy and horror was out of the question, it being not only Florence's least favorite genre but the very kind of movie I had seen with Reed, way back when all of this started. We settled on the latest kid's movie, loaded up on overpriced sweets, and pretended that we were excited.

Can we not expound further on the movie, which was a painful experience for both me and Flo? The only thing that kept me from leaving was the concerned look in Florence's eyes every time she saw me fidgeting. I kept myself occupied by wondering whether Reed was more unbalanced today than me. I alternated between hoping that he was spending his day actively regretting how upset he had made me and hoping that at least one of us was experiencing a little peace.

I wasn't feeling ready to go home yet after the movie, but it was already Sunday afternoon. We had a two hour drive home and school in the morning. Nonetheless, when I suggested that we stop at a local diner for an early dinner, Florence agreed without any hesitation.

I think she was secretly hoping for an excuse to go in to school late tomorrow. Monday mornings had always been especially painful for her.

"Marcus called me while we were in the theater," Florence said. "He left a message. Here, listen." She thrust her phone toward me and I hit the button that the automated voice said would replay the message.

"Hi, Florence." A big pause here. Then, "I wasn't going to call, but Reed mentioned that you skipped out on prom and..." cue another, bigger pause. "Uhm, this is Marcus, sorry, I should have said that. I wanted to talk to you-"

Gus' voice shouted from somewhere in the background, "She knows, stupid! That's what phones are for!"

Then came a muffled noise that I suspected was from Marcus punching Gus. Marcus said, "Right, well, call me back." He sounded as dejected as I had been feeling since last night. My heart broke a little for him.

"How long ago did you listen to this?" I demanded.

Florence looked surprised. "I don't know, a little after we got out, when you were in the bathroom. Say three-ish?"

"Have you called him back?" Flo shook her head, still bemused. "Why? Do you know how much he's probably beating himself up right now?" Yes, I was overreacting. You have to understand, I was horrified. I was taking my own Reed-induced angst and projecting it onto Marcus, who had suffered only a mild embarrassment at most- nothing compared to what I had gone through last night.

"I didn't want to upset you! I thought that-"

"That... what? If I saw you happy, I'd hurt more?"

Florence met my eyes, her gaze uncharacteristically steady. "Yes."

I deflated. "I'm sorry. I think I'm a little grumpy."

"I agree." I glanced at her, ready to glare. She was smiling and that made me grin back at her, instead.

"But really, please call him? I won't get upset, I promise." Besides, I added silently, maybe it would do me some good to watch someone's relationship start out properly.

Florence didn't need telling again. She left me alone at the table. I thought she was trying to protect me again. Certainly she wasn't concerned about privacy. We shared everything, always. Even when it hurt to say something, we said it. I recalled the horrible conversation that I had had with Florence last night, telling her about what happened with Reed. I must have looked pained; the waitress, a bouncy girl called Cindy, came scurrying over. "Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks." I glanced out the window and caught sight of a beaming Florence. She laughed and nodded, clutching her phone as though convinced that if she held on just a little tighter, it would become part of her.

"Wait." Cindy stopped in her tracks and came back to my side. "Sorry, I've changed my mind. Would you mind bringing me a sundae?"

"Sure. It'll be right out, sweetie." It was a bit of a peeve of mine, being called 'sweetie' by a stranger, especially one that couldn't be more than a year or so older than me. I let it pass because she was nice and because i knew that there were only two people that I was really upset with: me and Reed.

I pulled a pen out of my bag and doodled little smiley faces, trees, and hippos on the bottoms of my shoes. This brought to mind a crime show that I saw once where a bloody boot was the key clue to cracking the case. If it was my shoe that was found... well, the detectives' reactions might have been good for a laugh.

Florence arrived at the same time as my sunday. She looked at it pointedly but didn't say anything. I was grateful.

I took a big, marvelous bite. "So," I saw through my mouthful of ice cream, "What happened?"

Florence beamed, whatever concern she had been feeling temporarily abandoned. "He and I are going out to the movies on Thursday."

I smiled to cover the grimace that was trying to pull through. "That's great! And it's about time."

Florence pulled a face. "I know. I was wondering whether he'd ever ask."

"You do know that you're allowed to ask people out even though you're female, right?" Though look at where my own forwardness had gotten me.

Florence chattered on for a bit. I was more than happy to sit and listen- and, of course, to stuff my face with ice cream. Listening to her kept my mind from straying too often back to Reed.

He had held my hands-- on various occasions. He had looked at me with the world in his eyes. It was like emotional lying, that.

But if things were really almost over with his girlfriend...

I took another bite.

***

My mom was out when I got home. It was just as well. I didn't want to talk about my trip, not yet. Also, I didn't want to explain the paint that still covered me. On my bed was a letter. It must have been dropped off at the house- there was no stamp and it certainly wasn't from my mother.

My hands were shaking bad enough that I gave myself a paper cut opening the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of notebook paper. The front side was covered with a familiar scrawl. At the bottom of the page was a signature that I recognized, a name that you and I both know very well.

Reed.