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I know, I know. It�s Monday. I left the Artboy lunch hang all weekend. Life interfered. It happens sometimes. Sorry.
So anyway�
We made arrangements to meet at one, which gave me half an hour to prepare myself. I put my hair up. I took it back down. I put just the front up. I took it back down. I considered shaving my head. I put on a different shirt. I put on different shorts. I looked in my closet. I put on another different shirt. I put the clothes I�d had on in the first place back on. I hunted for my lip gloss car keys right shoe smaller pocketbook sunglasses. I still had fifteen minutes before I was supposed to be there. The drive would only take five. I left anyway and just sat in the car once I parked. I walked into JP Licks two minutes early. He came out of the back three minutes late, motioning to me that he�d be another minute. I smiled at him, noticing that he hadn�t shaved off the terrible sideburns. No matter. He�s still got that inexplicable ability to turn my head. I pondered why that is until he walked around the counter and stood at my side.
�Hey,� he smiled. His T-shirt read, �Everyone is entitled to my opinion.� A streak of black raspberry ice cream mix decorated the left shoulder. I smiled back and started for the door.
We discussed our lunch destination as we walked into the sunshine. He told me I could choose, while laughingly reminding me he was on a time schedule. I�ve never been known for my decisive abilities. We passed the Centre Street Caf�, and I stopped. �How about here?�
�Here�s good,� he agreed. �I haven�t eaten here in ages�
We stood in the doorway making small talk, waiting for the waitress to clear our table. I realized that although this is my favorite restaurant in JP, I�ve only eaten lunch there twice before. Both times were with the Artboy. It seemed a fitting place to go.
The waitress led us to the back corner, near the kitchen. The table is somewhat secluded, a good place for conversation. We studied the menu, discussed what to order. He told me about the newest happenings with the band�7� release next weekend, headlining spot on the JP Licks 20th Anniversary Party bill, radio time on WBCN, WFNX and WAAF. We exchanged news on mutual friends. We talked about our friend Scott, who just had a four-episode stint on General Hospital. My head started spinning. I didn�t know how to start what I needed to say.
Our food came. I took one bite of my pear walnut salad and put down my fork. �I have to confess, my inviting you to lunch had an ulterior motive.�
He looked at me, puzzled and slightly amused. �Okay, shoot.�
�I have some news to share with you.�
�And what would that be?�
I took a deep breath. �I�m getting married.�
He looked at me, his face unreadable even to my well-trained eye. �I�m not surprised,� he finally said.
�No?�
�No, Jennifer. Honestly, I�ve thought since you first met this guy that you�d end up marrying him.�
I smiled. I told him that it had been important to me to tell him myself, that I hadn�t wanted anyone to use the news to try and hurt him, that if the situation was reversed, I�d rather hear it from him than through the grapevine.
�Well, I�m pretty far from that right now,� he laughed. I questioned what he meant. He confessed that things between him and the NGF had hit a snag. She�d actually broken up with him, although he was somewhat confident that they would work things out. He hoped they would, anyway. He told me he�d thought about marrying her, that maybe he would. I expressed hope for his happiness.
�So�how long have you been engaged?� he asked. The loaded question. I explained the whole barn thing, the fact that technically, truthfully, we aren�t really by definition engaged. �You mean, he hasn�t asked you yet? You don�t have a ring or anything?!� He shook his head. �Where�s the romance in that? Jennifer, don�t let him off the hook that easily. That�s the fun part! You deserve to be asked!�
I had to laugh. The Artboy was giving me advice on dealing with my engagement to the Boyfriend. How odd life becomes.
We hit a momentary lull in conversation. I ate a little more. Then, he looked at me and smiled. �So, my little girl is getting married��
My eyes filled up. It had been such a long time since I�d heard him call me that. His voice was tender, wistful. I didn�t dare speak. There was too much to say, none of which should really be voiced.
He tried to make me laugh. It didn�t help. I promised him I wouldn�t burst out crying. We changed the subject away from weddings. The check came. I insisted on paying it. He said, �Wow, you should get married all the time!� I laughed and said I didn�t think I could handle more than one wedding. He told me that was the general idea.
I walked him back to the store. Outside the doors, he leaned me over and hugged me goodbye. I stepped back. We talked for another minute. I took a step to go and stopped. We hugged again. I turned my head into the side of his neck, breathed in that familiar Artboy smell. Made my eyes fill up all over again.
Letting go, I waved and watched him turn and walk through the in door. It was a long trip back to the car.
Sitting in the driver�s seat, I stopped trying to hold the tears back. Surprisingly, few actually fell. I turned the key, turned up the radio and drove home with the Beastie Boys blaring through the terrible Nanamobile speakers.
I had said goodbye to the Artboy and lived.
I�m really getting married.
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