Notes on How to get Ahead

I could have watched her for hours. However long it felt like, I knew it had been only 47 minutes since Becca had started reading. Still, it would be pretty normal for me to expect at least some kind of reaction in that amount of time. To this point though she had been implacable. So, I sat, watching and waiting, as transfixed as she was. With time somehow going stubbornly even slower.

Becca was sitting sideways on the couch, one knee pulled up near her chin and one foot dangling below. A purple toenail keeping beat to some internal rhythm. She had her head to one side as she absent-mindedly chewed the tie of her hoodie. Every so often she would flick pages back and forth, and silently return to reading. Her long curly brown hair fell haphazardly around her shoulders. Her face impossible to read.

Finally (finally!), she smiled that wry, crooked, “I know something you don’t know” grin of hers and caught my eye.

“What the hell is this?” she said pointing at the page. In response I gave her my best eyes-wide expression and spread my hands. “The indie band name game,” she said quizzically.

I snorted. “Yeah. I’d heard it was a thing, so I tried it. You take your favorite fruit and add the last reason you took medication.”

“Avocado Blood!” she said.

“Right. Cool. But see. it kind of falls apart after that.”

She read from the page. “Top indie band name options: One: Avocado Blood,” she darted a glance at me. “Admittedly awesome and you should learn to play an instrument if for no other reason. Two: Banana Allergies…no. And three: Pineapple Pain. Well that’s just sad.”

“See what I mean.”

“Promise me I never have to play this game.”

“OK. But…” We stared each other down.

“OK. Fine,” she said. “This one time only. (Pause) Strawberry Infection,” she announced.

“Actually, that’s pretty good.”

“Shut up. And just to prove your point. Second place is Kiwi Cramps.”

“Actually….”

“Shut up!”

We had been dating for about five months. We’d been paired up by our friends Jenna and Tim (her a work partner, and he my college roommate now dating Jenna). We had slipped into a relationship as easily as picking up your keys off the table. It was just the next thing you did. It was fun, and relaxing. It was exciting and calming. It was love like love is supposed to be. At least from what I could tell. I knew two things for sure. One; I was happy. And two; I was utterly terrified. I knew Becca was the one for me, but I had no idea how to go about convincing her I was the one for her.

I had finally been inspired or confident enough to show her my trusty little black book. She had seen it and asked about it naturally. How could she not? But I’d called it my “journal” and kept it safe from prying eyes. No matter how pretty those eyes happened to be.

“You really keep it with you all the time?” she asked.

“I do,” I said. She’d looked a little askance, but reserved judgment and let it pass. She knew I wrote in it often. She would watch me then. The question always just on the edge of escaping. Waiting to jump out like a caged animal. The gold flecks in her eyes would sparkle with inquisition, but the questing tiger had so far stayed locked in the cage.

It wasn’t a true journal per se’. It was more a collection of thoughts, ideas, and lists. Stuff to remember or things to follow-up on later. Not a “bucket list”. Although there were several related notes. Things like, “Top five places to achieve more than one bucket list item” and “Ten really risky things I’d still want to try”. Stuff like that. I’d started keeping it one day as a misguided approach to heed the advice of a mentor and just never stopped. My favorite teacher had told me I needed to try to “be more present” (i.e. pay attention better) when important matters were discussed. I figured a notebook would be a way to stay engaged and maybe inspire some creativity. It was geeky, but it worked like a charm.

Sometimes I’d go on phases of writing furiously. Nose down like a dog on a scent. Recently however, I’d been being more judicious. The book was still at the ready, but the pace was more careful. More considered. But that didn’t mean it didn’t come out often for an update. Meeting Becca had completely changed the perspective of almost everything in the book. I was amending in the margins, re-ordering and re-referencing like I hadn’t in years. By now my book was well worn, but it remained my path to discovery. It kept me in order. I wouldn’t say I would be lost without it. It wasn’t a crutch. It was more of a faithful companion of sorts. My favorite tool in the shed. One handed down by me, to me.

The time to share it with someone else was now. I’d thought about it carefully while simultaneously trying not to overthink it. It was a compendium. Aren’t those meant to be shared? It was on the table taking up way too much space in the room and in my head. I honestly don’t know if Becca had even noticed it was there. I picked it up and said her name.

She looked up from her phone. “Yeah?”

“So. I’d like to let you read my book if you want. Before you ask, Yes, I’m sure. And no, you don’t have to, but you’re welcome to anytime.”

“Are you sure?” She leaned forward putting her phone down.

“Yes. There’s no secrets.” Wait. Was there? I’d kind of lost track. There was a lot in there. Thoughts on life, my family tree, some aspirations and such. But was there anything I didn’t want her to know? Right then I couldn’t think of anything.

I explained about the book. Where it had come from. How I used it. How she should read it. The long and short of it all. She reached out carefully and took it. Looking down she gingerly brushed her fingers on the cover. She opened it and flipped a few pages in at random. Before reading a word she looked up at me a question in her eyes. I think we were both holding our breath. I nodded, and she began to read.

49 minutes later Becca closed the book and stood up. She walked over to me and handed it back. “That was cool. Thank you. I’d like to read more later.”

“Anytime. I’m an open book.” I tried to give my best hackneyed smile.

“No. You’re not.” She leaned down over me with one arm on either side of the chair. Boxing me in. She looked deep into my eyes. Closer than I think I’d ever been gazed at. Her eyes were darting around trying to hold mine and look past them. Trying to catch something. Whatever it was inside me ran and hid at first, and then stopped to face her. “Got you,” she said in less than a whisper. “There is a lot going on in there isn’t there? Interesting.” Her gaze was back outside me again and looking at me with a satisfied grin.

She leaned back and stood over me. Pulling me up she said very decisively, “Alright. Let’s do something. One of your notes said you wanted to get to get to know the city better. And one of them said being adventurous is ‘too often dismissed as being reckless’. So, here’s what we’re going to do. We are going to leave this apartment and walk two blocks east, 13 blocks south, and 96 steps west and see where we are, and we have to do whatever is there.”

“Two, thirteen, ninety-six. Very clever.”

“And the best day ever!”

“Because it’s your birthday. You know,” I said. “We could just Google it.”

She rolled her eyes, which was the desired response. I smiled and we grabbed our coats.

Along the way we talked about the book. The things she’d read. The ideas it was spawning for her. Ideas it was spawning for me. On our last block south she said “Of all the things in it I noticed. The idea of opening a used record store came up more than once. I know you’ve mentioned it, but I guess I didn’t realize how serious you are. I think it would be great and you’d be awesome. You should do it.”

“I’m working on it. I need about another $15,000 and I think I can make it work. Maybe another 2-3 years and I should be ready.” I noticed she was smiling and chewing on her hoodie string again.

“You know what list was my favorite?” she asked. I took it as rhetorical. “I like the one titled, ‘things about Becca’”. I stopped and looked skyward, speechless. There it was. Something I didn’t want her to know. My foundation shook as I again held my breath. “It’s OK! I thought it was great. And you got almost all of it right. That’s impressive!” she laughed. “Don’t worry. I agree with you on number six. We’ll fix it.” We arrived at the corner and turned right. She hugged my arm and we started walking and counting. “One, two, three…”

We got to 96 steps, and there wasn’t a whole lot there. Just a storefront. We were standing in front of a jewelry store. A nice one. We smiled like kids and turned to look in the window. There was a beautiful solitaire engagement ring on a spike right at eye level. We stared at it kind of stupidly for a minute or two.

Becca turned and leaned up into me kissing me deeply (Which I was fine with). She wrapped her hands in her fingerless gloves around my neck and said, “The answer is Yes,” she said tossing her hair.

I looked at her dumbfounded for a minute. “Becca I.” That was as far I got. We stood like that for awhile. Me trying to believe this moment was really happening and Becca waiting for me to catch up. I watched her expression change as I started to realize the amazing truth of this moment (and ignoring my terror for once). She started to bounce as I got ready to speak.

I ran my fingers through my hair and I think I said something extremely clever like, “Um. Wow. I mean. Wow. Yeah. OK.” But then, (terror returning) I stared reality in the face. “Becca. I love you like crazy. I totally want to marry you and spend forever just being with you. But that ring is like $5,000. I don’t know...” That was as far as I got. It was hard to speak as she thrust her lips against my mouth and kissed me even deeper than the last time. My mind was racing the whole time, but I still didn’t want the moment to end. She kept her finger on my lips as we parted so she could speak first.

“When we left the apartment we had a deal,” she said. So, here’s my part of the bargain. As soon as you ask me to marry you I am going to say yes just like I told you I would. Then, as an engagement present I am going to give you $20,000 (Don’t worry. She has the money, but that’s another story entirely). And we’re going to go in there and you’re going to buy me that ring. And then we’re going back to the apartment and get started on the record store. And then we’ll see what other unique new frontiers are hiding in that book of yours.”

We kissed (yes again) and then we did exactly what she said we would.