Let Him Cry Pt. 03

"Relax! There's nothing wrong. I'm just a little tired." With a little wave, she climbed into her car.

"Do you know what's bothering Bela?" I asked Taty later that evening.

"No." She looked surprised. "But, even if I did—"

I cut her off. "I know. But if you had said you wouldn't tell me, then I'd know that there was something."

"You're getting sneaky!" I saw a flash of teeth that took the sting out of the accusation. "But no, I don't."

Bela seemed her normal self when I got coffee each morning, smiling when she saw me. "On the house, osito," she'd whisper when I pulled out my card to pay. Maybe I was imagining things.

Or not.

Bela was in stitches at my reaction to the food. Thai cuisine wasn't one of my staples and, somehow, I missed the triple red pepper symbol next to neua pad prik and focused on the description: steak, shallots, garlic, basil ... all music to my ears. From the safety of her pad thai, Bela watched my lunge for the bread after the first bite and the ensuing spill of my water glass when my elbow caught it.

"I thought you just really liked spicy," she said as I dabbed at the tears while the waiter dabbed at the puddle. "Bird's-eye peppers will fry your mouth out." At my glare, she laughed, "But I'm thinking you know that now."

After the waiter left, with a sour look for the stupid American, she pushed her dish closer. "Here, share mine."

"You're still laughing," I accused.

She nodded in agreement. "It was pretty funny."

I grumbled good-naturedly and looked at the bite she was holding up to me. "I'm not a tofu guy."

"Then order something else, but I'm not waiting for you, torpe. I'm hungry."

"Let me guess. Idiot?" She shook her head. "Torpe ... torpid ... slowpoke?"

Another head shake. "Clumsy." My mock scowl set her off again.

When we got back to her place, I followed her to the door. "Good night, osito," she said. "Thank you." She leaned in for a kiss. I obliged. My hand wandered a little down her back, perhaps a trifle farther than that.

"Watch those hands, buster," she said with a good-natured laugh, though she didn't jerk away. As I leaned in for another kiss, she gave me a peck. "Good night."

"Can I come up?"

"Not tonight. I'm going to hit the sack."

"Maybe just for a little while?"

Her smile turned a little brittle. "Matt, I said not tonight."

Huh? It was just a question. No need to get cranky. I looked at her face and saw a shuttered look that was a close cousin to the one I'd seen earlier in the week. Bullshit there was nothing.

She saw my expression change and hers changed as well. "Matt, are you one of those guys who have trouble with no?"

Whoa! What the fuck? Of course I wasn't. I stepped back from her. "No, Bela," I said carefully. "There's no problem with the word no. I'm sorry. Have a good night. Bye."

As I made the turn out of the driveway, I looked back. She was still standing in the doorway, watching me. The outside light showed an unhappy expression on her face. Why the hell should she look unhappy? I'm the one who'd just been unfairly—

I mentally shook myself away from going down that rabbit hole. I gave a small wave answering hers and headed off.

I didn't need to interpret the sudden silence as I walked into my condo. The phone in Taty's hand, the deer-in-headlights look on her face said it all. "Go ahead. I'm going to my room. I'll have headphones on, so I won't hear a damn thing." The wide-eyed stare followed me to my room.

At breakfast, I half-expected some side-eye from Taty since I figured Bela had shared her doubts about me, but there wasn't.

"I'm going car-shopping this week."

"That's great news." Realizing how that sounded, I tried for a recovery. "I mean ... umm ... I don't mind driving you when you need it."

The mocking grin was what I expected. She patted my arm. "I know. I just want some independence." She got up to head for the bus; she was working today. "See you in a few?"

I shook my head. "I'll make coffee here." I didn't bother to pretend she wouldn't understand what I meant. "I don't feel like dealing with it in public."

She started to say one thing, changed her mind, and restarted. "You're calling it quits." It was more a statement than a question.

"Why does everyone think they know what's going on in my mind?" I snapped. Unfair, perhaps, but I was puzzled and upset and hurt, not necessarily in that order.

She answered quietly, "I don't know what's in your mind. I'm sorry."

I didn't go in for coffee that day. I wondered if I'd get a call, but no. It was a hard day to get through. Every second thought was a memory of that feeling I had of anticipation and contentment.

Unfortunately, every third thought was a bucket of cold water.

The next day I stopped in even though there was no Abode work. I could see a series of emotions flicker across Bela's face as she saw me come in. They were too fast for me to decipher. I wondered for a second if she'd shuffle me off on Malibu Ken, but as I came up to the counter, she asked, "Macchiato?" At my nod, she said, "I'll bring it down to the end when it's ready."

I watched her face the entire time she prepared it and was pretty sure there was a faint look of resolve as she wiped the rim and turned. Was that because she had bad news? If it was, she was going to have to wait for a second to deliver it because I wasn't going to bow out without making my feelings clear.

"Will you go out with me again?" I asked bluntly as she set the cup down. Asking what was wrong — as if I didn't know — had gotten me nowhere, so I might as well cut to the chase.

Her tight expression relaxed a little, but the carefree smile still wasn't back. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to."

I shrugged. "I'm not thrilled at what you said, but I'm still very attracted and would like to keep trying." I wasn't exactly exuding warmth, but I was still upset. And scared, to be honest. However, I didn't miss the slight return of tension at that sentence.

"Matt, you're—" She broke off and glanced over at customers who, though wrapped up in their thoughts and phones, were close enough to overhear if they chose. "This isn't the place for this."

"Have a drink with me after work."

She hesitated. Now what? She answered the unspoken question. "All right. I'm absolutely snowed under, but I'll meet you for a drink."

At five o'clock, she dropped into the seat across from me. "Chardonnay," she said, "in size large if possible."

Drink in hand, she answered my next question about being snowed under. "Well, let's see. I found a possible place for Café Olé, but I have inspections and stuff to do before I can be sure. And I've set up a meeting with the bank about financing, and that's a major nightmare of finding the documentation they want and putting together a proposal.

"Then there's Grano. Taty is a gold mine, but I realize now that there's a lot of non-server stuff she has to learn if she's going to manage the place, so I'm putting in extra hours there.

"On top of that, I still owe hours to Abode. I've got a house sitting empty because I haven't bought a single piece of furniture yet. My best friend from high school is getting married and there's a bachelorette party in three weeks, for which I have zero gift and zero dress. My mother is driving me crazy because I don't spend enough time with them lately. Rafi's struggling with math and the teacher sent home all kinds of practice exercises for me to do with him. And, to top it off, my car's acting up and I need to get it into the shop, but then I'm stuck for getting to work."

We were dancing around what I really wanted to talk about, but it bothered me how stressed she was. I considered what she'd just said. "I know enough to meet inspectors if you want. I can help you shop for furniture. I won't touch a bachelorette gift or dress with a ten-foot pole, but I can do first-grade math. You can borrow my car until yours is fixed; I have a pickup I can drive."

Her expression was odd, sort of evaluating. Finally, "I want to be the one doing the Café stuff because it's my business. Furniture — it's my very first house and I want to decorate it myself. Well, except for Rafi's room; I'll let him help with that. If you want to practice math with Rafi while I work on paperwork, I would love that and will make you dinner as a reward. As for a loan of a car, I accept, but I can drive the pickup."

"Nobody drives my pickup, woman."

"Oh, one of those kinds of guys."

It was clearly meant as a tease even though she was deadpan, but it was the wrong thing at the wrong moment. "One of those kinds of guys" just emphasized what kind of guy she wondered if I was. She caught my reaction. "Matt" — she looked down at her lap — "I think you've got the wrong idea."

"You were pretty clear. You might as well have just asked me how I felt about date rape."

She looked up in utter shock. "Don't be ridiculous! I didn't think that for even a second," she protested.

"Asking a guy if he takes no for an answer—"

"You're reading way too much into it. I misspoke and it came out wrong. I'm sorry."

"Then what did you mean?" I demanded.

She looked away. "You were just pushing about coming up, and I needed to get some sleep."

"I wasn't pushing very hard, and you were squirrelly all day before that." I stood. "There's something else bothering you. I don't know what it is, and you won't explain." I didn't bother listening to the denials. I dropped a couple of bills on the table. "I still want to see you, even though you think ... whatever ... about me. I'll try not to give off those vibes." I didn't like the petulance in my voice, but I was pretty upset. "I guess it's just one of those bumps in the road." Still ignoring her protests, I finished, "I'll call you later this week and, if you still want, I'll help Rafi."

Half an hour later I was home making hamburger patties, Taty was on salad duty, and Nia was explaining how boys in her school were stupid. "All they do is talk about computer games and they don't even want to do things."

"Nia! We don't call anyone stupid. There are people smarter than you. Would you like it if they called you stupid?" I had finally learned Taty well enough that I could see the humor lurking behind the stern tone. As Nia muttered "sorry" and stumped off, Taty said quietly, "Though grade-school boys generally are stupid." She grinned at me, daring me to challenge her.

I didn't rise to the bait in the way she expected. "Is that some kind of commentary on me?"

She sobered. "What? No. Why do you say that?"

I shrugged. "You're the one who has Bela over all the time."

Her confusion cleared. "She hasn't been over for a while. She's too busy. We talk but I'm not getting in the middle of it. And I don't think you're stupid."

"A while? She was here just last week or so."

She smirked. "Do you really think she was here to see me that day?"

That left me at a loss for words.

Her phone dinged. She looked at the message, met my eyes, and picked up a paper towel to wipe her hands. "Nia, Terrell," she called. "Get your coats. We're going for a short walk." It was that don't-argue-with-mommy tone. As she passed the kitchen window, she glanced down. I followed her gaze: a Camry was idling in a visitor spot.

It was obvious even to me that Bela had cried sometime since I left her. Her eye makeup had that smeared look that signaled tissue had been deployed.

"Can I come in?"

After a few minutes of silence, a bit of staring, a declined offer of wine, I said, "It's your nickel."

She broke eye contact and started. "I have as many issues as the next woman. I worried that, if I talk about them, they'll cause you to stop seeing me like you did Caitlyn. But I'm more worried you'll explode if I don't talk."

I was still back a sentence. "I stopped seeing Caitlyn? I think you have that a little backward."

She looked startled. "You ... you didn't break up with her?"

I shook my head. "She called it quits."

She broke eye contact again and muttered. "That wasn't what I heard."

"I don't care what you heard! I've never lied to you."

She shook her head. "I wasn't doubting you. I was thinking that maybe I should have considered ..." She broke off, then restarted. "I've been wondering if maybe you thought seeing me was turning into a mistake like it was with Caitlyn."

"Why would I think that?"

"Because women with small children learn rather quickly that they aren't prime dating material for some guys."

"But I asked you out, more than once."

"Yes, sometimes you get asked out even when they know you have a kid. But I didn't invite you to stay the other night even though Rafi wasn't going to be around."

The meaning of the last was obvious, but I followed its pairing with the first sentence through to the logical conclusion. She saw it on my face. "Matt, I didn't think that about you. I wouldn't have agreed to go out if I did. It was only ..." She stumbled a little and then kept on, "... only that you made it clear what you were implying ..." She trailed off again.

"I'm sorry if I offended you." The stilted tone was obvious even to my ears.

"You didn't offend me. I'm just uncertain about your goals here." She saw the tight expression. "Now I've offended you."

She had. So, this is what she thinks of me, I thought. Out loud, "So, when you said you didn't think I was a date-rape predator, what you meant was you thought I was a smash-and-dash kind of predator. Got it."

"You're overreacting!"

I probably was. I knew my mouth was about one second from blurting some ill-considered sentence. It's not like I hadn't done it before. I also knew I wanted to walk away before I did, but I turned back at the last second.

"The truth? Do I want to sleep with you? Of course I do! I'm not a monk. Does that mean that I expect you to drop your panties after a couple of dates? No, it absofuckinglutely does not. I was trying to let you know I found you attractive in a way that made it easy for you to laugh it off if you preferred."

She'd gone quiet at my raised voice. Not afraid-quiet, just listening-quiet. At my "Of course I do," I saw her lips tighten, but they relaxed as I continued. "Go on," she said.

"There's nothing to go on. You think what you think. I don't know what I did to make you think I was just after sex. If all I wanted to do was get laid right away, I could go bang the bartender again." I barely noticed her eyebrows go up at that. "Whatever. I need to get some air before I say something I regret."

"Matt, please. I just need to figure out—"

I shook my head, "I say stupid things when I'm upset. Taty'll be back in a moment," and left. I saw Taty and the kids goofing around in the parking lot. "Might as well give her my burger. I won't be eating it." Three pairs of solemn eyes, the kids picking up on my mood, followed me to the car. I was overreacting. I knew it. Something was making me way angrier than the situation warranted.

A couple of drinks later, I realized I shouldn't drive. Talk about backsliding, but no little voice nagged me this time. Taxi? No. I gave it fifty-fifty that Taty and Bela were deep in girl talk about how much of an asshole I was, and damned if I was going to stumble past them. I put the seat back and crashed.

Ruth and I were having lunch, leaning up against the wall of a half-finished wall of a bedroom. I'd shaken my head mutely when asked if I wanted to join the girls. She'd came in about five minutes later, settled down next to me, unwrapped a sandwich, and opened with, "So, what's up your ass?"

"Nothing."

She snorted and we chewed in silence a moment. "I notice Bela's not here today." I caught the sideways glance as she said it. I guess my face confirmed what she was thinking. "What did you do?"

I turned in irritation. "Who says I did anything?"

"It's always the guy."

"You believe that bullshit?"

She was openly laughing now. "Nope. Not for a second. But I'm perfectly willing to shovel some of that bullshit if it will prod you into talking."

She got me with that one: I felt a laugh erupt. "We fought. Apparently, she's wondering if I'm just looking for a notch on my bedpost."

"And you're not." The way she said it wasn't a question. "Bullshit aside, did you do something to give her that impression?"

I felt inhibited and she laughed at the expression on my face. "For heaven's sake, Matt. I've had more lovers in my years than you've had years. I know all about propositioning someone."

So I told her what I'd said that evening, along with the context.

"Doesn't sound particularly impolite. There's nothing wrong with letting a girl know you find her attractive in that way as long as you'll take no for an answer." She saw the reaction to that last and prodded until I told her that part too.

"Still doesn't seem to be too bad," was her conclusion.

"Well, if I didn't do anything wrong, then why am I in the doghouse?"

"I didn't say you didn't do anything wrong."

"What! What did I do?"

"How would I know? I haven't been on your dates. Maybe you did; maybe you didn't. Ask yourself. Ask her."

She stood up. "Gonna go back to the hen party. Otherwise, I miss out on all the gossip." She winked.

Just before she went out the door, I called after her, "You didn't seem particularly surprised by this."

She looked back, face uncharacteristically grave. "Caitlyn's got an opinion about your relationship with her." At my look of dismay, she added, "I wasn't on those dates either, but it doesn't match my picture of you, so I take what she says with a big grain of salt."

For twenty-four hours, Taty didn't exactly tiptoe around me, but I did notice that there wasn't a single mention of anything remotely Bela-related, even when she was talking about work. Finally, over our glass of wine the second day, she started a story about a customer and then broke off suddenly after, "...and then I said to B—"

"You can mention Bela's name. I won't take your head off."

She frowned. "I feel like I'm caught in the middle even though I'm trying to stay out of it."

I shrugged. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to put you there, and I don't know why she would. She's obviously done."

"What do you mean?"

"She hasn't called."

"You haven't called her."

"Somehow you know that fact ... but you're staying out of this?" She flushed. "I haven't called her because she's the one who said she needed to decide if she wants to go out with me. I told her flat out I wanted to keep seeing her. She didn't say the same."

Taty looked down at her lap. When she met my eyes again, her expression was grave. "Hypothetically? What kind of impression do you think it creates when you're worried that a man only wants to get in your pants and, when you don't let him, he stops calling you?"

"Jesus! Are you listening? She said she didn't know if she wanted to go out with me anymore."

"Did she really say that? Or did she simply tell you about some fears, and you read that into it?" When I didn't say anything, she finished. "Matt, I said I didn't want to be in the middle of this, but I'll tell you something: she's freaking out."

I stepped away from the dumpster where I was waiting when I saw Bela come out of the back door of Grano. Twilight came early this time of year and I saw the startled apprehension of "male, really near, waiting, dark" before she realized who it was. I put up my hand in apology.

"My car's warm, if you want to talk," I offered.

"If you're here to say you don't want to see me anymore, just get it over with."

"I believe I already said I wanted to keep seeing you." I saw something melt a little in her frozen expression.