At Least Try to Be Normal

At Least Try to be Normal

By Kimberly Espeland

At the sound of the buzzer, Bachelor Number One sat down across from Kelly at the plastic folding table, and she began.

“Hey, I’m Kelly: I was born here in Seattle, I like hiking, and I was almost cast on MTV’s The Real World.” In the meeting room behind the Caffeinery, the smell of stale coffee permeated the humid air.

“I’m David. Didn’t that show air, like, five years ago? You must be 25, 26?” 

His button-down shirt was creased in squares, right out of the package, and spattered with raindrops.

“I’m 27, but you shouldn’t ask a lady her age.” She tossed her long, brown hair, a practiced tease. David stared at the waves falling down her back, but he didn’t seem to catch her joke. Hello? No sense of humor?

“My bad. I’m 20, from Colorado Springs. I just finished my computer science degree at Seattle University and started a job at Microsoft. What brings you here?” His voice was uncomfortably loud, as he strained to be heard over the other couples’ chatter.

She pointed and said, “That’s my roommate Justine over there, in the Soundgarden T-shirt. She heard about Speed Dating, and we thought it would be fun to try. What are some of your favorite bands?”

“I don’t have time for music,” he said. “I’m so busy at work. My boss is wigging out about Y2K. I’m just here because my sister said I should try to meet a girl.”

The buzzer saved Kelly from pretending to care about whatever Y2K might be. He reminded her of so many old boyfriends. It would be easy.

Bachelor Number Two carefully scooched the chair in. His short-sleeved Henley and gold necklace showcased his dark, muscled arms. Hottie! Kelly tensed. Were her hands getting clammy? She pressed on.

“Hey, I’m Kelly: I was born here in Seattle, I like hiking, and I was almost cast on MTV’s The Real World.”

“Hi, I’m Malik,” he said, eyes soft. “I am so sorry that you didn’t get that role. Especially when it became a success; that must have been devastating. Are you an actress?”

“You’re right, it wasn’t great, and it turned me off acting. I’ve been working for King County Archives since then. It’s a little dry, but it made sense, with my history degree.”

Malik’s brow was still furrowed, so she tried a lighter topic. 

“How’s your summer going? Any day trips?”

Malik opened his hands on the table and stared down into them, as if searching for an answer scrawled in ball-point pen. “Actually, it’s been the worst. My girlfriend broke up with me in May. She said we’d ‘grown apart’.” He gestured air quotes. “I was totally blindsided. She was always the one, you know what I mean?”

No, not a clue. Kelly had ended all of her relationships within two years. She gave what she hoped was a comforting shake of the head, and was relieved to hear the buzzer.

Bachelor Number Three slid into the chair with a lopsided smile. Her Junior Prom date’s dark curls fell around his clear, blue eyes. She recalled his pushy, ashtray-flavored tongue.

“It’s you, Kelly Beal, Lake Washington High class of ‘87!”

“Benji, you haven’t changed a bit. I thought you moved to San Francisco?”

“True. Long story! Glad to be home.”

She appraised him warily, remembering their messy breakup that summer.

Benji continued, “So, tell me the spiel you’re using on all these other guys.”

“Fine. Hey, I’m Kelly: I was born here in Seattle, I like hiking, and I was almost cast on MTV’s The Real World.”

Benji sat back in his chair. “You haven’t changed a bit either, you and your three dimples. What happened with that show?” Kelly was disarmed by his familiarity with her features, and answered more honestly than usual.

“The first couple rounds of auditions were exciting, but then it got a little weird. Actually, I got a little weird.”

Benji nodded, eyes serious.

Kelly found herself blurting out, “I wanted the part so much. I spent over $500 on cute mini-dresses and tanning, plus the plane tickets and hotel. When I got to New York, they said to just act natural. But instead, I started making up random elaborate lies, to be interesting. I’m all, ‘I have a pet potbelly pig, it’s a rescue.’” As Benji focused on her, the crowded room around them fell away, until he was all she could see. Now I remember you.

“Why did you pick the show as one of your few things to bring up today?” he asked.

“I didn’t think about it. I guess it’s the last time I took a big chance.” A guffaw from a bearded man in a flannel three tables over broke the spell, and Kelly realized her heart was pounding. “We haven’t talked about you at all. What are you up to these days?”

The buzzer sounded. As he stood, Benji replied, “I’m at U-Dub, doing my residency in Psychiatry. I think we’re both lying when we say we haven’t changed a bit. See you soon?”

*

The rain had stopped, so Benji walked Kelly home. She had a splitting headache. He cupped a hand over a Marlboro Red, and lit up. She wrinkled her nose, recalling their icky makeout session in his dad’s Corolla after Junior Prom. Every time her eyes had fluttered open, his were staring at her like a fish. Today, something about his intensity stirred her in a way she hadn’t felt in years. Benji turned and exhaled smoke away from her.

“Remind me why I went to Junior Prom with you?” she said.

“Easy: because I was the only Jewish guy at our school. You wanted to try everything out. You dated Brendan Kwan, and then me, and then Tarun Patel.”

“Whatever! That’s just a coincidence.” Kelly was secretly flattered that he remembered.

“Nope. You got bored, so you dated one guy after another. And you knew you could have anyone you wanted.”

Kelly tilted her head, processing the backhanded compliment. “That’s not true. It’s easier for high school girls. All I had to do was smile at a boy. And I wasn’t bored with you, I just had no idea what to do with you. You were so emotional.”

Benji pulled back a fistful of his dark curls, and she discreetly evaluated his hairline. Why do I keep checking him out? It’s just Benji. They picked their way around a construction site, and turned the corner.

Kelly said, “Your turn. What did you mean when you said you’ve changed?”

Benji grimaced. “It’s more that I did change, for awhile, and now I’m getting back to being myself. Remember Jen Roberts? We kept dating while I was at Stanford and she was at Cal, and we got married after graduation. I adored her. She sparkled, such a bubbly social butterfly.”

Kelly started frowning. Benji held up a finger, and continued.

“At first, I was glad Jen took over our social life. But it got more intrusive, and I gradually changed without registering it. She always wanted to fix me up, buying me clothes. We went to all these parties and concerts with her marketing friends, so she could show off her fancy doctor husband. I didn’t have time to think about my own opinions outside of studying and working. I cut my hair for her. I even stopped smoking.”

Kelly laughed. “Shut up!” She balanced her empty coffee cup on top of an overflowing trash can.

“Really! I never should have started, but now it’s part of who I am. At least, I think so. After med school, when we got divorced, I brought it all back. The smoking, the longer hair. I got all the old clothes she hated out of storage, and moved back to Seattle for my residency. I’ve been single for two years.” Benji strummed his fingers along a chain link fence.

Kelly said, “I’m glad you’re back to being yourself. But you’re wrong about me. I haven’t changed at all. I still have the same apartment that I’ve rented since college.”

“Nope. You’ve changed.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me more about myself, Mr. Future Psychiatrist.”

“It’s a hunch, or maybe wishful thinking. But I think you wouldn’t have left with me today, if all you want is to keep dating one new guy after another.”

Kelly shook her head. “You’re still way too intense. This conversation isn’t normal.”

“It’s real, though. You’re real. Jen was a plastic princess. You’re a little awkward and introverted, but you hide it, same as me. When I finally finish work for the day, forget parties. I just want to listen to music, maybe read philosophy.”

“I read a lot of history, but not philosophy. That’s for nerds.” Kelly laughed again.

Their strides fell in step. The path had started to incline. Benji stopped to catch his breath, pretending to have something in his shoe, but a smoker’s cough betrayed him as he bent down. Kelly felt a surge of affection. Maybe she could try being with someone like this, for once. Someone who called her out–and who she let in.

Then, a dark thought soured the moment. This is too good: something bad will happen. A wave of sensory overload from the day caught up with her, and she closed her eyes. Ice cold dread washed in through Kelly’s feet, stole up her torso and bored into her brain. You’re Going To Die. She abruptly sat down on the curb, squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears. No one could save her; she was doomed. Kelly gasped, certain that her chest would be crushed under the weight of the open sky at any second.

Then, she could feel Benji rubbing her back and saying her name, low and slow.

“Kelly, just breathe. I think you’re having a panic attack. Everything’s going to be okay. Kelly, see if you can count to three. One, two, three.”

*

Outside her apartment, Benji hugged Kelly gently, and she smiled.

“You’re going to be a good therapist, Benji. If you’re not too weirded out by me, let’s do this again sometime. But let’s at least try to be normal.”

He stepped back to look at her, running his fingertips from her shoulders to her hands. “I don’t like being normal, I like being real. And I don’t want to be your therapist.”

She squeezed his hands.

“And Kel– everyone calls me Ben at this point.” He gave her his lopsided smile.

“Okay, Ben. Close your eyes.”