“It’s okay.” Maya smiled. “I talked to her while I was waiting and told her it was a special dinner.”
Jake pretended to smile at Chyna while silently placing a curse on her family for generations to come.
* * *
—
The Thankful Bistro was vegan, but everything on the menu cost as much as the fancy Mexican place he’d been eyeing before Maya picked it. Apparently there was surge pricing on lentils.
Jake took a sip of water and realized he needed to change his attitude. Maybe some of the high-priced positive energy would wear off on him.
Besides, here was Maya. In some ways it felt like it was just yesterday that he bumped into her at the charity event Brightside had helped with. When they sat together during the auction, they whispered nonstop like old friends. After she agreed to go hiking with him the following weekend, he worked extra hard at his job for the next five days, fueled with the anticipation of seeing her again.
In other ways it felt like it had been several years, not six months. He liked her—he really liked her. He also didn’t want to scare her off. Probably good to not go too fast in these situations, he assumed.
“So, how was your day?” he finally asked.
“It was good!” she said. “I finished up a big report on how our job-training clients are contributing to the local economy. And next weekend we’re going to Denver for the regional conference, so I’m helping the new intern get ready.”
Maya worked in donor relations for a nonprofit that raised money and support for newly settled immigrants. After college, she’d joined AmeriCorps and worked with kids from migrant families living in East Texas. When she moved back to California she’d jumped into a job with the United Way, changing to a smaller organization after two years because she felt like she could make more of a difference.
What would a future with her look like? At this point, what would any future look like? If he didn’t get his act together, he wouldn’t have many options at all.
“Jake, are you listening?” She had been looking at him for a while.
He came back to life. “Maya, I’m sorry,” he said. “To be honest, I had kind of a rough day.”
“Well, you do seem really distracted tonight. What happened?”
He told her about the presentation, the messages, and the talk he’d had with Jan on the way out the door. “I’m sure it will be fine,” he said when he was finished. He wasn’t sure at all, but he worried about dumping his problems on Maya. Among other things, he hadn’t told her about the debt before. In his telling now, it became “some student loans from when I was at Cal State,” not $50,000 worth.
It still didn’t sound great, he realized. But hopefully she understood that he was under some stress. If he could just get a handle on his problems, he’d be able to do a much better job in the boyfriend department.
Time to change the subject. “Hey, are you still planning to invite me for Thanksgiving?”
They were at a crucial stage of their relationship. She’d met Zach, and talked with his parents on a video call before Jake went up for his last visit. But he still hadn’t met her family. When she suggested he join her for the upcoming holiday, it felt like a big deal.
She looked away for a moment. “Sure, that would be fine.”
That would be fine. Was it his imagination, or did she sound less than enthusiastic?
“Okay, cool. I’m really excited about the tamales!”
He probably should have said something about being excited to meet her family. Still, he was really excited about the tamales. She’d told him about a recipe that her grandmother had passed on to her mother. At every holiday, they served a range of traditional Mexican fare along with American standards.
Jake did his best to perk up for the rest of the dinner. For dessert, they ordered a $20 gluten-free vegan apple pie. It was good, as long as you enjoyed the taste of cardboard. But when he looked at Maya and saw that she was perfectly content, he relaxed again. He really should stop complaining so much.
* * *
—
When the bill came, he put down his card without looking at the total and went to the bathroom. Returning to the table, he found Chyna sitting in his seat, leaning into conversation with Maya.
“Your girlfriend is amazing!” she said. “She was just giving me advice on skin care. I’ve been looking for a more organic face wash forever!”
“Sure,” he said with another forced smile. “And please get out of my chair.”
He didn’t actually say that last part. But he felt confident he had communicated it telepathically.
“By the way, Jake,” said Maya, “there was some problem with your card not going through. It’s not a big deal and I took care of the bill, but you might want to check with the bank tomorrow.”
What? Now his debit card wasn’t working?
He was sure he had at least $200 in his checking account. Unless . . . the autodebit for his gym membership had gone through on the same day his utility bill did. He’d probably need to cancel that. The gym membership, not the utilities—though come to think of it, technically speaking he wouldn’t need electricity at his apartment for much longer either. Still, he didn’t realize he was that short on cash.
“Thanks,” he said. “Listen, I feel really bad about this.” Chyna had moved away from the table and was pretending not to listen while she absorbed every word.
“This was supposed to be a special night, and I’ve been so distracted. First I was late, and then you ended up paying for dinner.”
“It’s okay, Jake. I know you had a hard day.” Something sounded distant in her voice.
“Can I make it up to you?” he asked hopefully. “I’ll pay you back for this, but I’d also like the chance for a do-over.”
“Of course. Let’s talk more later.”
Jake walked her to her car and said good night. Then he got in the Mazda and drove to the apartment that he wouldn’t call home for much longer.
Live to fight another day, he thought. Except this was a day he didn’t want to repeat anytime soon.
3.
This is your life, Jake. You need to get it together.
It wasn’t an audible voice from the heavens that spurred Jake on. It came from his daydreaming self, the one that got him into trouble when he was in client meetings. Out on the jogging track, though, he was safe. There were no clients, no boss, and no one to bother him.
Most of the time, there were no distractions at all. He ran out here three times a week, early in the morning or late in the afternoon when he finished at work. Some people got bored running on a track, but Jake liked the rhythm of it. He had it down to a formula: twenty-four laps, six miles, and forty-five minutes. The track was less than five minutes from his apartment—at least for now—so if he factored in a quick shower, the whole process took just over an hour.