The Singles by Meredith Goldstein

Author:Meredith Goldstein [Goldstein, Meredith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101580523
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2012-04-24T00:00:00+00:00

Phil

As soon as the bride and groom said, “I do,” Phil sprung from his folding chair to find the bathroom in the clubhouse’s lobby. Once inside, he fished his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled through it to find the last number he’d dialed, trying not to think about the call from his bookie he’d let go to voice mail. He hit “send” and saw “Mom” flash on the screen. She picked up after two rings.

“Hello?” He could hear more sickness in her raspy voice. She sounded muffled, like there was a layer of cotton between the phone and her face.

“Nancy, you sound terrible,” he said, teasing her by calling her by her first name.

“I actually feel better than I did last night, honey. Wait—what time is it? Isn’t it time for the wedding? Are you in Annapolis yet?” She ended her question with a cough.

“I’m here. They just said ‘I do,’” Phil said in a whisper, wondering if anyone on the other side of the bathroom door could hear him.

Nancy continued, firing off questions about the ceremony, which he mostly ignored. “How does Barb look? What was the bride’s dress like? Did Matt look nervous? What are you wearing? Are you wearing something clean?”

“Yes, Mom,” Phil lied, wondering if he should spray himself with the can of air freshener perched on the toilet, to mask the smell of buffalo wings. He quickly decided against it. It would be worse if he wound up smelling like chicken and Lysol.

“Honey, tell me about Barb. She must be so proud. Her youngest son married—she’s so lucky.”

“I haven’t seen her, Mom,” Phil answered gruffly, acknowledging the jab. “She was sitting in front, and I was in the back. I didn’t want to block anybody’s view.”

Nancy wouldn’t question that. Phil was always mindful of his height, especially at concerts and movies, where he felt like a giant who stood in the way of everyone else’s view. Phil’s ex-girlfriend Elizabeth, who was five foot two, had always been impressed by his empathy for short people. On their second real date, he’d taken her to Baltimore’s historic Charles Theater, the only place he knew of that showed arty films. Elizabeth had walked ahead of him to one of the middle rows, prepared to snag two of the best seats in the house, but Phil called her name from the back of the theater, explaining that at six foot six he didn’t feel comfortable sitting where he’d wind up restricting the view of many normal-sized humans.

“Wow,” Elizabeth had said, surprised. “That’s really…considerate.”

“Short people are people too,” Phil had responded to her sarcastically as he slid into one of the back-row seats, making sure that no one was behind him and no one was in front of her.

“No, don’t get me wrong. It’s nice,” Elizabeth had said. “I just never knew that tall people were so concerned about short people. It always seems that there’s a tall person in front of me who couldn’t care less.”

“Well, my mom is only five feet tall,” Phil had explained.

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