Page 79 - In Five Years

impossible to engage in. I am constantly trying to learn the rules, only to realize
that the people who win don’t seem to follow any.
One of the men makes a comment. Everyone laughs. I roll my eyes.
“You’re so friendly,” he says. It sticks.

At the restaurant now, I scoop a fava bean onto a small piece of crisp bread.
It’s hot, and the garlic pops in my mouth.

“Morgan and Ariel met Greg on Saturday,” Bella says. “They loved him.”
Morgan and Ariel are a couple Bella met through the gallery scene four-ish
years ago. Since then, they’ve become more David’s and my friends than Bella’s
—mostly because we’re better at making dinner reservations and staying in the

country. Morgan is a photographer who does popular cityscapes and had a coffee
table book called On High come out last year to much fanfare. Ariel works in

private equity.
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” Bella says. “I honestly thought you would, too.” She continues while

I chew. “I’m not mad it’s just . . . you’re always wanting me to be more serious,
and be with someone who cares. Like you never stop talking about that. And he
does. And it doesn’t seem to matter to you.”

“It matters,” I tell her. I do not want to keep talking about this.
“You have a weird way of showing it.”
She’s annoyed, her voice edgy, her arms outstretched. I sit back.

“I know,” I say. I swallow. “I mean, I can see that, that he cares. And I’m
happy for you.”
“You are?” she says.

“I am,” I say. “He seems like a good guy.”
“A good guy? Come on, Dannie, that’s pathetic.” She’s petulant, angry. I
don’t really blame her. I’m giving her nothing. “I’m really crazy about him,” she

says. “I’ve never felt this way before, and I know I’ve said this a lot, and I know
you don’t believe me—”
“I believe you,” I say.

Bella sticks her elbows on the table and leans forward. All the way. “What is
it?” she says. “It’s me, Dannie. You can say anything. You know that. What do
you not like about him?”