Sweet Nothings

Newly divorced, Brian found dating to be neither fun nor the nightmare his single friends insisted it was. Mostly it was boring, a lot of looking at his phone, swiping left and right, texting that usually came to nothing. When he did make it to in-person dates, they consisted of polite but dull conversations that went nowhere, until he met Jodie.

Jodie was sweet and funny, with an appealing smirky grin. They were both from blue-collar upstate New York families, allergic to cats, and fans of sushi, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and David Bowie. It wasn’t the match of a lifetime, but Brian was a little hopeful, even excited, about where things might go.

But the drawbacks presented themselves almost immediately. For one thing, she talked constantly. By the end of their first date, he knew her entire life story from DNA up until the bowl of edamame they shared. He knew the names of her parents’ dogs, and that her sister worked for a newspaper. Whereas Brian only mentioned that he was recently divorced, Jodie provided the names of her last three boyfriends and details on why they had broken up. He heard about her co-worker who insisted on heating fish in the office microwave. By their third date, he felt like he was sitting through an endless monologue.

She was also emotional, getting teary-eyed when Brian casually mentioned that he had gone out on a date with another woman. It hadn’t gone anywhere, but he stopped himself from telling Jodie that. He was annoyed that he even considered it. Though he invited her to his apartment, she hadn’t stayed long, nor had they discussed being official. There was no need for her to be upset, let alone his immediately feeling guilty about it. He, frankly, didn’t like her enough to worry about walking on eggshells around her.

Brian decided by the end of the evening that he wouldn’t see her again. Yes, she was cute and funny, but her reaction to the news that he had gone out with someone else was a bad sign. He hadn’t even accepted her friend request on Facebook.

He spent much of the next day trying to come up with a polite way to break it off, and then remembered that there was no “it.” Ghosting wasn’t polite, but neither was making assumptions that three dates constituted a relationship. When Jodie texted to ask if he wanted to go to an exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum, he didn’t respond. Nor did he respond to the “?” she sent an hour later, or the “You ok?” an hour after that.

The next day, Brian woke up to “I see, ok,” and assumed that was the end of it. He deleted her friend request and went about his day, until, just as he was getting on the train to go home, he received another text: “What did I do?”

Brian felt a surge of guilt, immediately followed by annoyance. Any explanation would have sounded like a dumb cliche, but also, he didn’t owe her an explanation. He considered responding with that, then thought better of it and put his phone away.

He heard nothing more from Jodie until Valentine’s Day, when Brian had conceded to spending a quiet evening at home with pizza and Succession. Another text: “I left my scarf at your place. Do you mind if I come by to pick it up?”

Brian didn’t recall seeing her scarf anywhere, but found it hanging up under his winter coat, a long strip of fuzzy purple wool. “I can meet somewhere to give it to you,” he responded, hoping it sounded more sincere than he felt.

“I’m in the neighborhood. I’m on my way to a date.”

He figured that was either an assurance (or a little dig) that she was over it.  Fine, Brian thought, and let Jodie know it was okay to come. It didn’t occur to him until later to wonder how she knew he was home.

She arrived just as the next episode of Succession began. Brian was relieved that the sight of Jodie at his door didn’t stir any kind of feelings. He was neither mad, sad, nor happy to see her. She had already been relegated to the same place in his mind as Melissa, Angela, and Kimberly, just women he had dated and then forgotten.

“Well, hey, you!” she said, perhaps a little too cheerfully.

“Hey. Here’s your–”

Jodie ignored the scarf he held out towards her. “How are you doing?”

“Good, here’s–”

“Now, hold on!” she said, and that overly cheerful tone took on a sinister edge. “I have something for you, too.”

Brian shook his head. “You don’t have to–”

“No, no!” Jodie said, reaching into her purse. “It’s nothing, just a little thing to say no hard feelings.”

She pulled out a heart-shaped candy box, the kind you buy at a drugstore. Brian put his hands up in protest, still clutching Jodie’s scarf. “I really can’t acc–”

“Don’t be silly, it’s really nothing. I gave one to all of my co-workers too.”

“Except the one who heats fish in the microwave, right?” Brian said. Jodie looked momentarily startled at his joke, then let out a peal of laughter. “Yes, right!” she said, offering the candy box.

Well, what the hell, Brian thought. I’m not getting anything else today. He took the candy box from Jodie’s outstretched hand, and in one shockingly swift motion, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him towards her, while with her other hand, she pressed a gun into his stomach.

“Don’t yell,” she said softly in his ear. “Don’t say anything. Back up, and sit down.”

He complied, holding his hands up in front of him, still clutching both Jodie’s scarf and the candy box, and trying to find the couch without looking away from her. Jodie followed, pointing the gun and kicking the door shut behind her.

“Jodie,” he said. “You don’t have to do this. Whatever I did, I’m sor–”

“What’d I say?” she snapped. “I said don’t say anything. Just sit down and be quiet.”

Brian finally found the couch, miraculously without falling over the coffee table. “We can talk about this,” he said. “I don’t think you–”

“Jesus, are you deaf? Are you always this bad at following directions?” Thinking ahead of him, evidently, Jodie snatched his phone off the TV cabinet and put it in her pocket, then took a chair from his tiny kitchen. She set it directly across from him, then sat down.

“You can put the candy down,” she said. “Oh, and I’ll take this…”

Jodie snatched the scarf out of his hand and shoved it into her purse. They sat there in silence. She appeared to be deep in thought, and Brian braced himself to be chastised about his failings as a man, which, he had to admit, were many. Instead, she asked, “Have you ever played Russian Roulette?”

He started to answer, then quickly stopped. Jodie laughed, as if the whole thing was great fun for her. “It’s okay, you can talk now.”

“No, I’ve never played Russian Roulette,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t betray the fact that he was about to wet himself.

“But you know the rules, right?”

“I…I think so?”

“Good! Because we’re gonna play right now.”

The urge to urinate was joined by the urge to vomit. “What…with the gun?”

“No, stupid, with the candy.” She waved the gun towards the candy box. “Open it.”

Now wondering if he might have been dreaming, Brian, hands shaking, tore the wrapper from the box, bright, shiny red with BE MINE on the lid. Eight pieces of chocolate were inside, each nestled in its own individual wrapper.

“Here’s how it works,” Jodie continued. “One of those pieces of candy is poisoned. We’re going to take turns eating each one until we find out which one of us is the lucky duck and which one–”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on a minute,” Brian said, as he began to stand up and then thought better of it. “This is a joke, right? You’re playing a prank on me?”

“I said you could talk, I didn’t say you could ask questions. Anyway, I told you before, I hate pranks. But I guess you weren’t listening.”

He vaguely recalled her mentioning it during a date, but said nothing more. “Now, just to be fair,” Jodie continued. “I dumped out the box and put all the candy back in different spots, so I wouldn’t know which one was poisoned. Wasn’t that smart of me?”

Brian nodded in agreement. “Yes, very smart. Jodie, can we–”

“I’ll even go first.” She reached down and took the chocolate at the center. “To Valentine’s Day!” she said, tipping it towards him, then popping it into her mouth. Jodie closed her eyes and chewed slowly, like she was savoring a piece of wagyu beef, then swallowed. After a minute or so, she sighed and opened her eyes. “Not that one,” she said, smiling. “Now you.”