Why I Love Singlehood: by Elisa Lorello, Sarah Girrell Page A

Minerva’s mouth tipped up in the rare, soft smile she reserved only for Jay. It was one of the things I admired about their relationship—they were never very affectionate in public—handholding was as obvious as it got, but the love …without kisses and cooing and gooey eyes, Minerva and Jay shared an almost tangible air of affection between them. I think that is what separates couples that look “natural” together from the rest of the love-struck, eHarmony world. Most couples demonstrate—hell, prove to each other how in love they are with favors and manners and declarations on Valentine’s Day. Minerva and Jay never had to show each other; rather, it was an unspoken, unyielding fact. A covenant. Sometimes it was apparent in a look or a smile, or the way they finished each other’s thoughts and sentences, but most of the time it was a presence that pulled everyone under its warm blanket.
    Why didn’t Shaun and I have that? I wondered. And is it too late to get him back to find it?
    “Well, we all know Eva’s and Norman’s favorites,” said Dara.
    “How do you know?” I asked.
    “You wrote it all down, silly! Yours was that Tom guy who turned out to be not that into you, and Norman’s was the girl with the dress.”
    “Her name is Samara ,” said Norman.
    Actually, I had forgotten a lot of what I had written that night. I momentarily covered my eyes with my hand, as if everyone would disappear when I took it away.
    “Are you going out with her again?” Scott asked Norman.
    “Tomorrow night, in fact,” said Norman. “But if you want to know the truth, it wasn’t my favorite date. And sorry, Minerva, but neither were you. It was Eva.”
    I felt my face get hot. Me?
    “Well, that’s not hard to believe, given the way she looked that night,” said Scott.
    I flipped around so fast I pulled a muscle in my back. “How do you know what I looked like?”
    “Geez, where’ve you been this weekend, Eva?” asked Scott.
    “Hiding under my covers. Now answer my question.”
    “Minerva posted it on her blog along with her report.”
    In mid-cookie chew, Minerva sheepishly smiled without opening her mouth and shrugged her shoulders. “It’s a support document.”
    I then went over to Scott’s laptop, surfed to Minerva’s LiveJournal blog, and sure enough, there I was: the cell phone photo of me in the café before the event. It wasn’t a half-bad picture, actually, but still. I looked at her again—she’d finished chewing by now, followed by the rest of her vanilla chai in one final gulp.
    “It’s a good picture, Eva. It needed to be seen,” said Minerva.
    “It’s an awesome picture,” corrected Scott. “Let’s do a quick poll: who here agrees that Eva looked hot on Friday night?”
    All the Regulars but Neil raised their hands. “Sorry,” said Neil, “I didn’t see it.”
    “Well come here, dude,” said Scott.
    Mortified, I looked at them all and announced, “I’ve got work to do in the kitchen,” and headed in that direction as Neil peeked at Scott’s laptop.
    Later that day, Car Talk Kenny walked into the reading room where I was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the bookcase, sorting through a box of books that a customer had donated earlier that day.
    “Hey, Eva.”
    I looked up at him.
    “Hey, Kenny.”
    “What’s up?” he asked.
    “Come sit with me,” I instructed, patting the floor. He obediently squatted to his knees.
    “How was your weekend?” he asked.
    “You see Minerva’s LiveJournal?”
    He paused for a beat while I handed him a pile of books that he gently placed next to him. “Yeah. Nice picture. I liked your WILS post better, though. Hers was a little too clinical.”
    “It was a rip-roarin’ time. You should have been there with us.”
    “I had other plans, unfortunately,” he said.
    “Are you seeing anyone, Kenny?”
    The question surprised both him and me.
    He inspected the spine of one of the books. “Not right now,” he answered.