Free My Dream Man by Marie Solka Page B

I wore something new that Tabby helped me find. A form-fitting dress with heels, something I’d probably only wear once or twice. I just didn’t care for the club scene much.
    After a few cocktails, Val convinced me to hit the dance floor. I really didn’t have a choice since she and Gen practically dragged me out there. I liked to dance, but not in front of crowds. I’d always been the type to jam out at home.
    As my hips swayed to the pulsing beat, I felt someone brush against me. I spun on my heel, thinking it was Gen goofing around. It was Brian.
    Seeing him immediately killed my buzz. I stopped dancing. “Hey. How’ve you been?” I asked, trying to keep it casual. I hadn’t seen him since graduation. It’s not like our break up was bad, it’s just I saw no reason to keep in touch.
    “Pretty good,” he said. “You look beautiful Sam. Life must be treating you well.”
    “Thanks,” I replied. “I’ve been doing all right.” He looked the same – same model-good looks, same confidence, same generic charm.
    “So are you dating anyone?” he asked. Just came right out with it. Best not to waste time, I guessed.
    “Yes,” I lied. “And you?”
    “No. Not right now. There was this girl who broke my heart and I never got over her,” he teased.
    I laughed. That was a load of BS. I knew he’d dated several hot girls after we broke up. And he knew that I knew.
    “You still have the same number?” he asked me.
    “Yes,” I said.
    He leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s keep in touch. We’re adults, right?”
    “Sure,” I said, smiling. I had no intention of calling him.
    Brian moved along and Valerie and Genevieve suggested we go to the ladies room.
    “What are the chances Sam?” said Val as she reapplied her lipstick. “I haven’t seen him in ages.”
    “Me neither.”
    “He looked good!” She said it like he was a pastry she wanted to devour.
    I smiled. “Looks aren’t everything.”
    “True.” Val agreed. Then she sighed. “Why don’t you just call Greg, Sam? Ask him out?”
    I shrugged. “I figure if he likes me and he’s interested he’ll call me, or make a point of being there when I come to visit.”
    Genevieve had drank too much and started vomiting in her stall, turning our attention from love life woes to real life drama. After we helped her get cleaned up, we left.
    “Don’t call him,” Mrs. Myszkowski warned after we discussed the matter. I had a banging hangover and her words echoed in my skull.
    I slipped the pulse oximeter off her finger and logged her number. “Why? What’s the big deal? My friends thought it might be a good idea…”
    She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Because you’ll ruin everything. That’s why.” She shook her head in disgust. “Look,” she said. “He likes you. That’s obvious.”
    “But he hasn’t called. He could’ve gotten my number from his dad. It’s not like we’re strangers. And he hasn’t been around when I’ve visited.”
    “You kids today,” she groaned. “You’re so impatient.”
    I frowned. Mostly because I knew she was right. “Well what do you suggest?”
    She took hold of my hand and squeezed it. Then she looked me in the eye. “You wait. If he likes you, which I think he does, he’ll start missing you. Then he’ll find a way to see you again. Trust me.”
    Mrs. Myszkowski exuded confidence. She had a surprising air of authority for a little old lady in a wheelchair. I suppose at her age she had wisdom on her side. All my friends and I had were trails of broken relationships.
    The next weekend Tabby and I went shopping for some things she needed for school, and I treated her to lunch afterward. As she sipped her Coke she said, “I kind of wish I hadn’t chosen a school a few hours away. I could’ve gone to the community college nearby.”
    “At least it’s not out of state. Then I’d miss you dropping by unannounced, filling me in on the latest gossip. Now that would have been