WHAT ABOUT TOMORROW
Marianne answers the door when Connell rings the bell. She’s barefoot and wearing a white cotton dress that drifts down to her calves. It’s the same dress she was wearing in the photos he found on her Facebook page when he first looked her up.
“Hi, Connell,” she says with a smile. “Come on in.”
She moves to the side to let him enter. Her hair is down, flowing past her shoulders. She smells like spring, or maybe it’s just the flowers that seem to be everywhere.
“I made some tea,” she says, leading him over to the couch in the living room. “I read that you like tea.”
Connell laughs. “I do.”
“Are you hungry?” she asks. “I can make a sandwich or something.”
“No, thank you.”
“I love the way you say that,” she says, sitting next to him on the couch. “‘Thank you.’ I never thought I would hear it again.”
“It’s just something you say,” he says. “No big deal.”
“I’m from a small town,” she says. “We say it all the time, in case you wondered. We say it to the mailman, to the UPS guy, to the girl at the grocery store — anyone who gives us something, we say thank you. I say it to my neighbors when I borrow a cup of sugar. It’s just something we do.”
“I’m from a small town too,” he says. “I know all about saying thank you.”
“Where is your small town?” she asks.
“In Ireland.”
“I’ve never been to Ireland.”
“I’d like to take you sometime.”
“I like that idea.”
They sit and drink tea and talk for a while. She tells him about growing up in the town, how her father was a minister, how she went to college, how she took a year off to travel and ended up in New York. She tells him about the job at the library that she took so she could get some life experience before going to grad school. She tells him about the man she met and how their relationship fell apart.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“That sounds like something I would have said.”
“Well, you’re a wise man,” she says.
“I’m not that old.”
“You don’t have to be old to be wise.”
“Yes, you do.”
“You should be careful about what you say,” she says. “I’m the one with the bread knives.”
“I didn’t take you for a violent person.”
“I’m not. At least, not yet. But when I have to be, you’ll find out.”
He laughs. “You make me feel good.”
“I’m glad,” she says. “I like making you feel good.”
“I like making you feel good too,” he says. “I’m glad I found you.”
“Me too.”
The air between them changes, becomes charged with possibilities. He wants to kiss her, but he doesn’t know how to go about it. He’s never kissed a woman before. He’s always been too afraid to try.
“I like you, Connell,” she says. “I like you a lot.”
“I like you too, Marianne.”
“Do you want to kiss me?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Then kiss me,” she says.
He leans in and they kiss. It’s nothing like he imagined it would be. It’s better. She tastes like the tea they’re drinking.
“You’re a good kisser,” she says.
“I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
“You’re a natural.”
“What now?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“What happens next?”
“Whatever you want,” she says. “I don’t have any plans for the rest of the day. It’s all yours.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“I’m not doing anything tomorrow,” she says.
“I mean, what about the rest of your life? What are your plans for that?”
She laughs. “I guess that depends, doesn’t it?”
“I guess it does.”
“You don’t have any plans at all, do you?”
“No,” he says. “I don’t.”
She takes his hand and leads him into the bedroom. They undress and get into the bed. She’s wet and warm, and he feels good inside her. He moves slowly, trying to last, but she’s not having it. She takes hold of his hips and starts moving with him, and that’s all it takes. He comes with a grunt and collapses on top of her.
She doesn’t seem to mind. She holds him and kisses him on the chest. He falls asleep that way and doesn’t wake up for a while.
When he does, she’s gone.
He gets out of bed and searches the apartment. She’s not there. He opens the door and looks outside. There’s no sign of her.
He goes back into the apartment and takes a shower. After he gets out, he puts on his clothes and goes into the kitchen. He finds a note on the counter.
Connell —
I’m sorry to have left without saying goodbye. I had to go. Hope to see you soon.
— M
He puts the note in his pocket and walks over to the window. It’s starting to rain again. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do now.
He walks back to the bedroom, picks up his cell phone, and dials a number. It rings once and someone picks up.
“Hello,” the voice says.
“Hi, Mom,” Connell says.
“Hi, dear. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” Connell says. “I met someone. Her name is Marianne.”
“That’s good, honey. What else is going on?”
“I don’t know,” Connell says. “I’m not sure, actually.”
“You have to have goals,” his mother says.
“I guess.”
“You have to have a plan. You can’t just let life happen.”
“I’m not sure what to do,” Connell says. “I want to be happy. I want to make someone happy.”
“That’s a good start.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I love you, Connell.”
“I love you, too.”
They say goodbye and he hangs up. He looks out the window. It’s raining harder now. He walks over to the couch and lies down. He falls asleep thinking about Marianne.
He dreams of her. She’s walking through the forest. She’s wearing a white dress. She’s carrying a basket in her hands. As she walks, she stops every once in a while and picks wildflowers. She puts them in the basket and keeps walking.
He wakes up to the sound of the phone ringing. He sits up and answers it.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Connell. It’s me.”
“Hi, Marianne,” he says. He’s smiling.
“You sound happy.”
“I am,” Connell says. “I had a dream. You were in it.”
“I’m glad.”
“Are you coming back?”
“Not today,” she says.
“I understand. When, then?”
“I don’t know. Soon, I hope.”
There’s a long pause.
“I should go,” Marianne says. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to call again.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll talk to you soon, Connell. I promise.”
“Okay.”
He hangs up the phone. He stands and walks over to the window. The rain is still falling, but not as hard. It’s coming down more like a mist now.
He looks out into the world, looking for Marianne. He thinks he sees her walking through the forest, but he can’t be sure. He looks for her for a long time.
When his phone rings again, he picks it up without bothering to look at the caller ID.
“Marianne?” he says.
“Connell. It’s me.”
“Hey, Mom.”
“Connell, I talked to your father, and he thinks you should go on The Bachelor.”
“The what?” Connell asks.
“It’s a reality show. It’s really popular right now. You go on it and you meet a bunch of girls and you pick one to be your girlfriend. You get a limo and a new house and all the cameras will be following you around. It’s a lot of fun.”
“I don’t know,” Connell says. “I’m not sure that’s the kind of relationship I’m looking for.”
“Oh, come on, Connell,” his mom says. “It’ll be a good experience for you. It’s just a few months.”
“I don’t know.”
“It’ll be fun. You’ll meet so many people. You’ll have a blast.”
“I don’t know,” Connell says. “I’m not sure.”
“You have to do it, Connell.”
“Okay,” Connell says. He doesn’t know why he’s saying yes, but he is, and that’s that.
“Good!” his mom says. “I knew you’d love the idea. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Okay. Bye, Mom.”
“Bye, Connell.”
Connell hangs up the phone and stands there thinking. He’s not sure what just happened. But then he shrugs and walks into the kitchen.
He pours himself a glass of orange juice and sits down at the table.
Marianne will have to wait. He has to go on The Bachelor now. He’ll call her when he’s done. He’ll still have time to be with her. He knows he will.
He drinks the juice and waits for the producers to beep him.