Can We Fake It?

Chapter 1

Carter

“Have a good weekend!” I call out as I leave work for the day, waving as the room of pharmacists, researchers, and QA testers pack up their own belongings and get ready to head home themselves.

I make sure to shoot them all a warm smile as I leave, but the moment I’m out of sight, the smile drops from my face. I never want my personal life to affect my work life if I can help it, but that’s been getting harder and harder lately.

Slipping a hand into my suit pocket, I pull out my phone. I don’t even have to search for my mom’s number – she’s already the first person on my call list, and the second, and the third. In fact, my call history over the last few weeks is just a string of her name, with a couple of instances of my sister peppered in there for good measure.

“Hey, Mom,” I say after a couple of rings. “How are you feeling today?”

I know she hates talking about being sick, but I have to ask. With a ten percent chance of survival past five years for pancreatic cancer, it’s not exactly something that can be ignored. As usual, my mom does her best to ignore the question.

“Oh I’m fine, I’m fine,” she says. “But tell me, Carter, how was the blind date last night? Did you like her?”

I sigh, pulling out my car keys and clicking the button to unlock the doors to my BMW.

“It was okay,” I tell her reluctantly.

I wish she’d stop bugging me about finding someone, especially when there are much more important things happening in her life. Sometimes I wonder if she’s just using my non-existent love life as a distraction from what, realistically, is her own impending end. It’s something I hate to think about though, and not something I’d ever say out loud to her.

Maybe a distraction is the best thing she has right now, I think to myself. There’s nothing that can be done about the cancer, after all.

“Just okay?” comes my mom’s voice on the other end of the phone. “She seemed very nice when I met her in the grocery store.”

I shake my head, but I can’t help but smile a little.

“I’m sure she was, but we just didn’t really have anything to talk about,” I say, truthfully. “You know you don’t have to send every woman you see on the street my way, right?”

“I know,” she answers and I can hear a hint of sheepishness in her voice. “But what if the next one is The One?”

I have to laugh at this, even if I’m feeling a little annoyed at this endless string of blind dates.

“Mom, what if I don’t need The One? What if I’m perfectly happy being single?” I try to keep my tone light, even though I do mean it. The last thing I want to do is upset her.

“Carter, all I want is to see you find someone before I die,” she says. I’m a little startled to hear a rare admission from her that there’s even anything wrong. “Just humor me, will you?”

I sigh again, slipping into the car. “Alright,” I say. I know she just wants the best for me, even if this particular version of it isn’t necessarily what I want for myself.

“Great! So then I hope that means you’re looking forward to the date tonight!”

I almost groan, but manage to stop myself.

“Sure I am,” I tell her, even though we both know that isn’t true.

I definitely don’t have the heart to argue about it and besides, it seems to make her happy. Who am I to take that away from her under the circumstances?

“Have a wonderful date then, honey!” she coos before we bid our goodbyes.

I shake my head again, starting the car and driving home to get changed for what I’m already sure will be another waste of an evening.

At least I’m not the only one who knows how this will turn out. A commiserating text from my sister makes my phone chime just as I’m turning up to the restaurant.

Mom told me you have another date tonight. I hope it’s not as bad as all the others.

I chuckle quietly to myself, shooting back a quick text.

Thanks Heidi, but judging by the way these dates have been going, Mom’s scraping the bottom of the barrel at this point.

She replies with a laughing emoji and I put my phone away, bracing myself for the next few hours.

It doesn’t take me long to find my blind date, mostly because she’s literally holding a sign with my name on it like a chauffeur picking me up from the airport. I’ve been on some weird dates, but this is a first.

Unfortunately, the rest of the date is just as weird. In fact, it feels more like a business meeting than a blind date. She spends about half the dinner quizzing me about my work as a pharmaceutical exec, my salary, if I have benefits in my job, and what kind of health insurance I have. The other half is her telling me all about her ex-boyfriend and his job, salary, benefits, and health insurance.

By the time dinner is over, I can’t wait to get out of there, and, in keeping with the strangely formal conversation, she shakes my hand at the end. I’m left wondering what just happened and where my mom is finding these people.

As I walk back to my car, reluctant to tell my mom about yet another of her failed attempts at match-making tomorrow, I think back to some of the first women she set me up with. It’s clear things have taken a steady downward turn since then, and I wonder for a second if I should have just settled for one of the earlier women, just to make my mom happy.

I push the thought aside as quickly as it comes though. That would have meant leading someone on that I had no real interest in, and that just isn’t my style.

“I just can’t win, can I?” I mutter to myself as I get into the driver’s seat.

I lean back, taking a moment to enjoy the stillness and silence after the last two hours of boring conversation. I even chuckle to myself a little as I mull over that date again.

As terrible as it was though, sometimes I think I’m being too picky. It’s not like I really believe in real love anyway. At least not the way the movies make it out to be.

I don’t think anyone really gets that. There’s no soul mate, there’s no The One. If anything, people just find someone who’s okay when they get bored or lonely or they want to have kids. It’s more about survival instinct and hormones and chemicals than anything else.

And maybe one day that’ll happen to me too. Only, that survival instinct hasn’t kicked in for me yet. Maybe one day, but definitely not now. Honestly, maybe not ever – which is exactly why these dates seem like such a waste of time.

I shake my head again and sit forward to stick the key in the ignition, listening to the satisfying rumble of the car’s engine. I smile a little, thinking of how much I enjoy my life as it is.

Apart from my mom’s sickness, my life is actually great. I enjoy my work even if I’m not in love with it, I don’t want for anything thanks to the very nice salary that my date was so kind to pry about, I have friends, I have a good relationship with my family, and I enjoy my own company. Why would I need a relationship? It seems like more trouble than it’s worth, honestly.

Chapter 2

Jada

The familiar door of my parents’ home greets me as I step up onto the creaky wooden porch. I stare for a second at the slightly flaking lacquer shining beneath the porch light, taking a breath before I ring the bell. Like every time I come here, I brace myself for what I know is coming – a series of needling questions about my love life.  It always happens that way. It always will.

It only takes a second for my dad to answer the door after the little singsong chime rings out inside the house, and he immediately pulls me into his arms.

“Jada!” he says, wrapping me in a big bear hug. “How are you, honey?”

I hug him back, smiling as he pulls away to look at me. The smile isn’t forced, but my answer is, already anticipating where the conversation will go.

“I’m good. Just working a lot,” I explain, as he ushers me inside the house.

I wait for the part where he tells me I should spend more time looking for a husband and less time bartending, but to my surprise, it doesn’t come.

I’m sure Mom will lay it on me, I think, as I make my way to the dining table. My childhood dog, Coco, sniffs my hand as I approach, then walks away to lazily curl in front of the sofa, uninterested in my presence today.

“Oh you look so beautiful!” my mom cries when she sees me, pulling me into an even tighter hug than the one my dad gave me.

I’m dressed in a simple black blouse, jeans, and ballet flats, my long black braids pulled up into a messy bun, with not much more than a quick slash of eyeliner and lipgloss. Certainly nothing to warrant such a reaction from my mom. I can see where this is going.

I know she’s about to add something about any man being lucky to have me or some such subtle hint, but for some reason that doesn’t come either.

I’m certainly not about to ask why not, though. As I help them set up for dinner, none of their usual prying questions and not-so-subtle suggestions about my love life are brought into the conversation. After a while of this, I start to think that maybe, just maybe, they’ve come to the realization that their meddling isn’t exactly welcome.

Have they finally figured out that I’m not interested in another relationship like the last one? I wonder with growing hope.

I help my mom carry a pile of plates in from the kitchen as she tells me about some conversation they had with a neighbor, but her story is interrupted by the doorbell ringing again.

I give my parents a quizzical look. “Are you expecting someone?” I ask, wondering who that might be.

They exchange a quick look before giving a somewhat unconvincing performance of two people taken by surprise.

“I’ll just go see who it is,” my mom says.

My dad makes a point not to make eye contact with me as we bring out the last bits and pieces for the meal. When we enter the dining room, I see why.

Standing with my mom is a guy I recognize from their church, smiling awkwardly at me.

“Jada, you remember Robert, don’t you?” my mom says, grinning at me with what can only be described as manic enthusiasm. “He just happened to stop by, and I thought it would only be polite to invite him in for dinner.”

She grins at me again, and I do my best not to roll my eyes right in the poor guy’s face. It’s all very clear what’s happening here, though we all have to pretend it isn’t. I greet Robert as politely as I can, even if what I’d really like to do is tell everyone in the room why I have zero interest in getting to know this guy.

My parents, well-meaning as they are, seem to be hell-bent – or heaven-bent, in this case – on getting me to marry a nice Christian boy from their church. Then I can spend the rest of my days cooking and cleaning for him while he works some well-paying corporate job. A real ‘happily ever after.’

Well, I tried that already. It didn’t work.

“Please, everyone, sit,” my dad says warmly, and of course, Robert and I end up sitting opposite each other, just as my parents planned.

I try to make polite conversation, but every moment of this surprise blind date feels like torture. Not that there’s anything wrong with Robert – I’m sure he’s fine – but the last thing I want is to get into another relationship. My ex scared me off those for good, despite being the nice Christian boy my parents always dreamed of. At least, on the surface.

Behind closed doors, he was controlling and petty, and I hate to say it took me way too long to realize that. I pretty much only got out of that relationship because I finally realized how suffocating it was. If I hadn’t, it could have easily ended in the marriage my parents so desperately wanted for me. I would have ended up in a miserable relationship just for the sake of keeping up appearances.

“So what do you do for work, Jada?” Robert asks me. 

I try my best to be polite and make my job at Clearwater Ocean Resort sound interesting. Not that it’s boring, but as far as date questions go, this one’s pretty pedestrian. Then again, it doesn’t really seem like Robert’s that eager to be here either.

I wonder how much they had to bug him to even get him to come over, I think as I give a reluctant rundown of my life as a bartender. Do I seem so desperate that they have to set up elaborate tricks like this to get me to meet a guy?

I don’t know how to make it clear to my parents that I’m just not interested but then, I realize, I don’t know if I’d have the heart to – even if I did figure out some magical, kind way to tell them. It’s clear they just want me to be happy, and this is their way of trying to help me find what they think I need.

Only, this is definitely not the way to do it, and I wouldn’t mind at all if they decided to give it up entirely. I almost gave up my life for a guy once. I’m not about to do that again, and this Robert guy isn’t much of a temptation to try.

“Oh, could you pass the mayonnaise?” he asks, and I hold back the urge to sigh as I hand over the condiment.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mom stealing glances at me, no doubt trying to see if there are any sparks flying here. I hope it’s as obvious to her as it is to me that nothing is going to happen with Robert. Or anyone else for that matter.

I don’t want to marry a nice guy from their church. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days as a housewife. And I definitely don’t want any more clumsy attempts from my parents to set me up with someone who clearly doesn’t want to be there, and whose most interesting addition to the conversation is asking for the mayonnaise.

I want more for myself than what they want for me, and I’m not about to throw away my independence for the sake of a relationship again. I just wish they could understand that without me having to spell it out for them.

My thoughts are interrupted again by Robert, and this time he seems a little annoyed. I get the distinct feeling he was talking to me and I missed his question.

“Sorry, what?” I ask, shaking myself out of my reverie.

“I said, could you pass the salt?”

This time, I do sigh.