Peripheral Love

You met Susan on the downtown subway and immediately thought of Harvey. What better match could there be? Harvey has been trying in vain to find someone, and here you meet this beautiful, shy woman who's a perfect match for your classically handsome, equally-shy chum. Sure, she's tanned where he's a little pale, but personality wise they should hit it off. And she's new in town, just moved here for her job, and would certainly like to make some friends. What good friend would keep the two apart? So you got her number, promised to get back about the blind date with Harvey, and got off at your stop.

Their first date is a highly controlled affair. You select the spot, the time, the activities; you and your spouse Kris chaperone the whole thing. Mario's Pizzeria is a good neutral spot, and dinner is on you. For such a perfect future couple, you have to. And they are perfect. When he tells a joke, she can't stop laughing. When she describes her job, it's something he always wanted to know more about. Kris beams at you; clearly, you were correct in setting up the two. You smile slyly back; your spouse shouldn't have doubted you. When the pizza arrives, they both reach for the same piece of mozzarella and bacon. They both try to let the other take it; Kris ends the Disney moment by taking the piece.

After dinner comes the entertainment, bowling. Harvey's always been bad at bowling, so you knew he wouldn't show her up. Turns out she's something of an amateur-pro, so she teaches him a few tricks. The rattle of pins is music to your ears, what with his usual gutter-ball moaning. In fact, for the first time ever, Harvey manages to beat Kris, bringing forth quite a few cheers from Susan. You score second best of course, but not the highest like usual. No matter.

Next is the bar, where you sip non-alcoholic drinks so you can serve as the designated driver. Turns out you would have been fine with the heavier stuff; Harvey and Susan both favor each other's company more than their light drinks, it seems. His short, straight hair intertwines with her curly locks. Kris gets a bit soggy, but that's nothing new.

Finally it's time to go home. You drop Susan off first, and the now-official couple goes to the door together for their first kiss. You watch with humor as they amusingly bump noses, and then gasp in joy as their lips finally meet, tentatively at first, then with more passion. That happy sight ensnares you, and a light seems to shine from behind them. You call out jokingly for `Romeo` to get back in the car, and he says his goodbyes. He's smiling, and you're smiling, and your drunken sot of a partner is smiling but for other, drunker reasons. Harvey gets back in the car and you congratulate him on a good first date. And you have to ask, will there be others? He would like to, but seems nervous about setting them up. You assure him that you have a few ideas. He gratefully thanks you when he gets out at his place. It's no problem; who wouldn't want to help out such a perfect couple?

---

Next Tuesday, you finally manage to coax Harvey into calling up Susan. You have to remind him to put the phone on three-way, and you promise yourself to step in only if things get rough. Immediately, they do. The pair of them can't stop talking about the weather! So you jump in to get things moving. Indeed, this is wonderful weather! How would you, Susan, like to have a bit of a stroll in it this evening, with Harvey? The two laugh convincingly, and Susan remarks she didn't even know you were on the phone. You suggest the county park near the bay: it has nice trails, an assortment of concession stands for a cheap dinner, and plenty of benches to sit and chat if their feet get sore. Susan agrees, asks what time she should meet Harvey? You announce that you'll pick the both of them up in an hour, so they better both be ready. They laugh again, say `Oh Thank You Parental Unit!` and giggle like children. You harrumph loudly, but you're smiling into the phone. You hang up after they both do, then glance in on your sleeping spouse. That night shift keeps Kris so busy; better to let a bear sleep the day away entirely than trying to wake it up.

You pick up Harvey first; he looks ready for a blizzard in his overcoat and scarf. It's not that cold outside. You tell him to open at least the top two buttons, to show her he's an open guy. He complies, knowing not to disobey you. Your minivan's headlights reflect off Harvey's tiny fuel-efficient hybrid as you back carefully out of the driveway. Susan gets in a silent thirty minutes later, smooshing in close to Harvey in the back seat. Her stylish jacket looks a little chilly for this area's usual weather, but hopefully Harvey will be a gentleman and offer her his coat later. Their little peck of a kiss makes you feel warmer then even the car heater can. Once more you mentally pat yourself on the back for setting the two up.

The drive from Susan's apartment to the park starts out almost as silent as before. With a few conversation starters, from you of course, they begin chatting more freely. He tells her more about his job teaching micro-zoology at the local college, and gives a few funny anecdotes of the silly questions his students have asked; she counters with her own stories about the outrageous behavior of a squid at the aquarium where she works. They laugh uproariously, and you chime in politely. Then the technical jargon really starts flowing; it would be nice if they included you in the conversation a little bit, but you just concentrate on driving. You take that left turn a little hard to punish them for using such arcane words; when they both get squished closer together because of it, you sigh bemusedly and leave them to their conversation.

When you get to the park, you tell them to call you when they're ready to be picked up. You say you have some errands to run, but not to hesitate when they want to go home. They smile with understanding, and wander off along the paths arm in arm. You wait until they're out of sight, then turn off the car, lock it up, and follow after them. It's not that you don't trust Harvey; you just want to make sure things go well.

When you come within sight of them again, you duck behind a tree and listen intently. They're standing on the little bridge over the creek, leaning over the rail. The water glistens below them romantically, and a lovely shiver not from the cold gooses your heart. With the last of the sunlight on the horizon and the park lamps just flickering on, they paint a beautiful picture there. With your index finger you trace a little heart in the air encircling them. Then you finally catch a bit of what he's saying, and your back stiffens. He's apologizing, the jerk! What did he do? Did he make her cry? She sort of looks like she's crying, but with keen ears you hear her … laughing? He's apologizing … for you?

He's telling her how you've always been like the big sibling he never had, and he's sorry for how protective you are?! Protective?! You're just trying to get that shut-in laid! How could he say that?! Why that … she's placating him, she's laughing (with him! at you!) and she's placating him. She understands completely; she has several in her family that act the same way, always trying to protect her and keep an eye on her. Why do these knuckleheads think you want to "keep an eye" on them? You just want to get them together, not watch their every move! You're a silent partner in this dating venture. So what if this time, even he doesn't know? Does he need to?

They wander on, again arm in arm. You keep as close as possible, intent on hearing everything they say. She's complimenting him on picking the park. He tells her, rightfully so, that you chose the spot. She thinks about it, shrugs, and hugs his arm tighter. Ask her if she's cold, dumb nuts! Instead he asks if she's hungry; she shivers out a yes, something warm please. Now he gets a clue, offers her his coat; she takes it thankfully, but then can't stop laughing at his ridiculous sweater beneath it to put the coat on. It is indeed hilariously orange and green, making him look like a pumpkin. When she stops chortling, they buy a hot pretzel and coffee from one of the stands open late, and continue wandering. Your stomach growls, but you came prepared: a fruit and nut bar from your pocket will keep you satisfied until you get home. And their happy glow feeds you in a way no other food could.

About an hour and a half later, when the moon has finally come up, they seem to both realize how long they've been walking. He pulls out his cell-phone and starts dialing as she giggles and mimes someone wagging their finger at him; as you dash away towards the parking lot, your phone vibrates silently. It's good they're finally going to call it a night, not that you minded how long it took; their moonstruck stares kept you warm, and every time they pulled together for a quick kiss you hugged yourself happily. Their occasional rest on a bench allowed you to get closer, and hear their continuous chatter. They had been talking about religion finally, and politics and beliefs and definitely not the weather, the kinds of topics one only talks about with someone close. You answer the phone after a few rings, and breathlessly pretend you were just leaving the gym. You tell them to head towards the park entrance, that you'll be parked in the same spot by the time they get there.

When they arrive, you flash your headlights; they pile in, sitting close together in the back seat. They only have eyes for each other, and you hate to interrupt the mood but you have to, telling them to buckle their seatbelts. Harvey pulls his seatbelt across the both of them; you smile and pretend not to notice. If they're cold, there's a blanket in the back you say. Susan grabs it and spreads it over them. Keep those hands where I can see them, you joke. They titter, and echo their line from before.

As per tradition, you drive Susan home first. Harvey, comfy in the blanket, almost lets her walk up the steps alone; a menacing stare from you prompts him to jump out. They hug, a little disappointing for you in comparison to last time, but then he whispers in her ear for several seconds. She smiles and nods, and then disappears from sight. He walks over to the lawn and waits in front of her window; when she appears in it, he throws her a kiss which she catches through the window. Harvey must have learned that one from a cheesy movie but it seem to be received well.

Harvey gets back in the minivan, and you let him sit lovesick in the back as you drive to his place. Almost there, you ask him if he's got something else planned. You can help again, of course. He smiles, and tells you to not worry. He asked her on the doorstep, and she agreed to go to dinner and a movie with him next Friday. Their schedules keep them both busy during the week, but they've agreed to meet every weekend when they can. You congratulate him; isn't it nice to be a part of the adult world, going out on dates every couple nights? He laughs for some reason; like you and Kris? he quips. You turn the car left, drive three blocks, come to a rest at a stop sign. Another two blocks, turn right, passing under a stony bridge. He's sorry, he didn't mean to offend. No, you reply with a sigh, it hasn't been great; but he shouldn't worry about that, he should enjoy himself with Susan. As you pull into his driveway and stop, he gets out awkwardly, still trying to apologize. You laugh as best as you can, tell him to get to bed, he's got class to teach tomorrow. He gives you one last apologetic look, and then walks inside.

---

The week goes by so slowly. You have a thousand ideas for what movie they should go see, where they should eat. You heard about a dinner-theatre show downtown, wouldn't that be wonderful? Or the old classic movie matinee at the Star Hotel, which has a buffet between the features. Or take her to a nice romantic French restaurant; then pass on a movie, go take in a local play, or maybe an opera, if there's anything good at the Vaudeville Theatre.

On Thursday evening you call Harvey, try to run a few ideas by him. He won't listen to them. They already have a plan. They're going to that slimy noodle hut, the Japanese one with the tiger on the door. Then they're going to the regular old theatre, where they're going to watch a regular old pop culture film, based on some comic book they both love. How is that romantic? How is that a date? That's just going out, that's just a quiet evening. Why won't he take your advice? He's unyielding, boorish, wrong! But you don't say anything. You act like you're happy for him, that you approve.

Friday night, date night for so many people. Date night for Harvey and Susan. Kris is just waking up, just getting ready for work. You're sitting in the dining room, sipping the coffee you made earlier for the both of you. Kris tells you not to drink so much, that you'll never be able to get to sleep. You mumble something back, fill up your cup again. Kris leaves, the Mazda coasting silently out the driveway. You put on your jacket after it's been long enough, drive away, too. Harvey and Susan should just be arriving at the noodle place now, and soon ordering their bowls.

The noodle place has great big windows, you can see right inside from your minivan parked across the street. They have a window seat, they seem to be enjoying themselves. When Kris and you last came here, the noodles were cold, unsatisfying. Today they seem to be fine. Perhaps not all is lost. You wait, and watch. You wish you could hear them. They'll be talking about their families probably. Harvey grew up way inland, and for some reason got crazy about the lives of things too tiny to see. He moved out here all by himself, to study at the college where he now teaches. That's how he met you and Kris, at that college. Kris and you were just dating then; those were good times. You both were at the bar, drunk as usual; an attempted pick-up line by Harvey a table away made you laugh out loud. Of course he heard you; he turned red and ran out. Kris laughed too and took another shot, but you felt bad for the guy and went after him. Since then he's been like a little brother to you, in a way. Every now and then you would try to set him up with someone, get the guy some nookie, but he's been impossible until now.

They're finishing up; Harvey pays, they get in his car. As they back out of the parking spot, you start up the minivan and back out along with them. You follow them at a distance, all the way to the theatre. The huge lot is almost full; you barely manage to get a spot. They walk right past the line for tickets without seeing you purchasing your own; Harvey bought his online, so they get to use the express line. They look so in love as they go by you, in their own little world. The movie tickets are too cheap; how can this count as a date? The theatre itself smells like rancid butter and too much salt; how can Harvey be so cheap with her? They take seats in the middle, you find one three rows above them and a little to the left; the aisles are caked in gum and ground-up popcorn, how can Harvey bring her to such a dirty place? She should get up, walk out, leave this disgusting place. He should have listened to you, he should have … they're pulling tighter together, she leans her head onto his shoulder. She seems happy, for some reason.

The movie ends too soon, like all the movies these days seem to. You weren't watching it anyway. Harvey and Susan are what kept your attention. Why do they seem to enjoy this so much? Is it better than your moonlit walk in the park, or pizza and bowling with friends? It's so common, so dull and boring. Yet she held him so tightly at the climax, he whispered in her ear and she whispered back over some on-screen mystery, and when the hero kissed the girl, they both turned to each other and smiled. At that point, there was something in their eyes, something you could see even from where you are; a promises, a vow, a cherished memory. As the credits roll, you expect them to get up with everyone else, but they pause a moment, their hands enmeshed atop the armrest. Why? You leave before them, walk slowly back to your van, drive slowly home. Why them? Your key can't find the lock; the tears blur your vision. Why not you and Kris? You resolve to ask.

Back in the minivan, you drive to his house, wait for him to arrive. He'll have had to drive a ways to drop her off; she's not on the way. When he does drive in, and gets out of the car, she gets out too; they're kissing, crushing together, he can barely open his door. You get out, quietly close the driver-side door, but they wouldn't notice a bomb going off. They are the bomb, bursting, exploding, messy; her hair is so messy. You hide behind the neighbor's bushes, peering across the street at them. Their passion is incredible; he's really having trouble with that door. It stirs something inside you, a memory of younger days, how you and Kris used to be. The door is open, they almost fall inside. You scurry across the street, keeping to the shadows. They aren't watching the shadows, or the light. They have only eyes for what counts, they only need such vision for seeing through the eyes of the other. The door closes, locking you out.

You remember the ladder around back, from when he called you and Kris over to help paint the house. It's still there, hidden in the weeds. You remember painting the trim around his windows, painting it carefully around the circular one looking over his bed upstairs. You set up the ladder. A Seattle rain-shower begins, ponderous at first, but then faster every second. The ladder is already slick, difficult to climb. As you do so, the light above comes on. You reach that window, watch as they fall against the sheets. His pants are already gone, you watch carefully as he lifts up her blouse and holds her delicately. She kisses him in return, everywhere but the lips. You watch closely as they begin to move, like rowing a boat, like digging a hole, like finally riding a bike. It is yours to watch, your prize. You watch from your window above them, rain running down your face, joyous beyond words. You are their glorious angel of love.