Lovesick Read Free Page A

left over from pharmacy school?”
    “I’ve got twenty years to pay them,” I say, brushing him off.
    “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you.”
    “I’m thinking a small wedding.”
    “Well, then, you’re thinking too much. You’ll have whatever wedding you’ll have … within reason. It’s not
your
job to figure that part out. Your job is to
help Paige realize her fantasy.”
    Sid lets the words linger.
    “You heard me, right?” he confirms. I nod. “I did it for Cookie and you’ll do it for my goddaughter.” He looks back at my pie chart. “What’s this big slice labeled ‘Points’?” he asks hesitantly.
    On our third or fourth date, for some unknown reason, I started awarding Paige points for various feats. For example, she got points the day she bowled a turkey (a miraculous three strikes in a row); Paige got points that time she split aces and doubled down inblackjack; just last week she got points for slurping down a dozen slimy bluepoint oysters. After “I love you” no three words bring Paige more joy than “You get points” (although “You were right” and “I am sorry” are a close third and fourth).
    For me, I explain to Sid, this is how love adds up.
    Sid hates this system.
    “Does she ever award
you
points?” he asks curiously.
    “No, but she could. Paige likes points,
really.”
    “Uh-huh,” he says with skepticism. “Okey doke, so I think we’re done with this little chart of yours.”
    “Just indulge me for two more minutes,” I plead.
    I pull out a thick black Magic Marker. “Take these two slices,” I say, using the marker to point to “Pressure” and “Posterity.” “I’m not getting peer pressure to get married, and I’m not getting married for show. Then there’s ‘Sex.’”
    “Hold your horses,” he tells me, raising the stop signal.
    “All I’m saying is monogamy doesn’t scare me.”
    “And ‘Guilt’?” he asks of the corresponding slice.
    “None whatsoever. I’m not proposing because I feel like marriage is ‘the right thing to do.’ I’m not caving to Paige’s demands. I want this. ‘Necessity’ isn’t a factor, either. Paige isn’t pregnant. I’m not proposing because I’m tired of the dating scene. I’m popping the question because I want to marry
Paige.
We’re not getting married because it’s convenient. ‘Fear’ doesn’t come into play, either. I’m not worried about ending up alone. I’m ready, Sid. She’s ready.”
    “You’re brilliant, kid, but a moron when it comes to relationships.”
    “I don’t understand …”
    “Then let me put this in terms you will: you’re trying to solve the unsolvable.”
    “Tell me
one factor
I’ve missed,” I insist.
    “Look at me, Andy.”
    I look at him.
    “No formula, no pie chart, no miracle calculation is going to give you the answers. Take it from someone who thrives on math: there ain’t going to be a solution at the bottom of the page thatyou can place in a neat little box. You want to marry Paige? I’m thrilled. You think she’s ready? You’re ready? I can respect that. But not this,” he says, swatting the pie chart away like a gnat.
    He slowly takes off his shades to look at me. The sunlight hurts his eyes like pins and needles. They begin to tear.
    “So what does the father of the bride think about all this hooha?” he demands.
    “Don’t start.”
    “You
need
Gregory’s blessing,” Sid says. “That part is
not
up for negotiation.”
    “The guy doesn’t think I’m competent enough to drop pills in a plastic bottle; you really think he’s about to consider me worthy enough to marry the ‘apple of his eye’?”
    “And the alternative is what?”
    “He brought this on himself by hiring me in the first place.”
    “Now you’re talking nonsense.” He chuckles. “You’re punishing Gregory because he gave you the job that landed you the girl of your dreams? We both know Gregory had little to do with it. You had your mind made up when