“I only socialize with books,” Nick added, throwing two pictures into the KEEP box in the middle of the circle. “Other than that, I’m basically a seaside hermit.”
“Well, that’s no good,” Laurie said.
“This town and I are stuck with each other,” he said, tossing in a couple more pictures. “I’ve made peace with it.”
Junie paused and had just a little more wine. “Is it okay if I ask how Becca is?”
He didn’t look up. “You can ask. She’s good. If you believe in amicable divorces at all, we had one. She’s in Michigan. As you may have seen on Facebook, she is In a Relationship.”
“Do people still change that status?” June asked. “That seems so creepy. I mean, I say that as someone who has been with the same person since 2001. By the time Facebook came around, I was off the market.” She passed a picture to Laurie. “Look at this. That’s got to be your brother running the cereal box race.” The cereal box race around the bases was the between-innings entertainment at Claws games, and Laurie’s brother Ryan had won, wearing the Chex box, when he was nine. “Anyway, fortunately, yes, I was married before my relationship had to really deal with the internet.”
“Well, that is lucky,” Nick said.
“Have you done the online dating thing at all?” June asked. “Either of you?”
“I tried,” Laurie said. “I can’t say I tried for very long. I just could not handle signing on every day to be greeted by a bunch of guys saying ‘hey.’？”
“What’s wrong with ‘hey’？” Nick asked. “Maybe they’re trying to start a conversation.”
“How am I supposed to answer ‘hey’？”
He shrugged. “Say ‘hey’ back?”
Laurie switched to a new box. “I feel like it’s a very indiscriminate ‘hey.’ I feel like these guys go through and ‘hey’ at eight hundred women, and they see who will ‘hey’ back, like they’re blowing a horn at the top of a mountain and waiting for goats to come running.”
June shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s how those horns work. And I’m almost positive it’s not how goats work. And you would know.”
“Fine. I’ll get back on Winkr or Nudgr or Smasho or whatever and write ‘hey’ back to twenty guys, and we’ll see if any of them is my future husband.”
“I think Smasho is the most promising of those possibilities, although maybe not for getting married,” June said, shifting to rearrange her bent legs. “How about you, Nick? You out there?”
Nick shook his head. “I told Laurie, I’m apparently only a six. Plus, the first app I got on, I wound up on a date with my dentist.”
“You didn’t recognize her from her picture? You didn’t recognize her name?” June started on a new stack of Polaroids.
“Hey, I see her once every six months at most, and she wears goggles and a mask, and her name is ‘Dr. Smith.’ In her picture, she was wearing sunglasses and hugging a Chihuahua and her name was Leslie. I had already ordered a drink when I figured out where I knew her from.”
“And she didn’t recognize you?” June said.
“She said I was out of context. We both realized at kind of the same time.”
Laurie shrugged. “So? Just find somebody else to clean your teeth.”
“She takes my insurance and I had to get two root canals last year,” Nick said, straightening a stack of sorted shots. “I’d rather look for another date than another dentist. She was very understanding. I think she was flattered. It’s too bad there’s not a graceful way for me to leave it in a Yelp review. ‘Very attractive woman, even better dentist.’？”
“But you feel ready to meet somebody?” Laurie asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I kind of hate being single. It was a lot easier being married. I liked having the house, the other person who was there for everything. I get up in the morning now, and I look around, and I have that feeling of freedom that only comes with realizing nobody else cares what you do at all. I hate it.”
“Are you setting dish towels on fire and stuff? Slipping on broken eggs trying to make your own breakfast?” Laurie asked.
“Hey, I’m entirely self-sufficient, that’s not the issue. I just didn’t want to have to figure out what to do on Sundays by myself. I’m totally out of practice.”