When Dave picked me up for school Monday morning, he seemed preoccupied and subdued, not at all his usual swaggering, roly-poly self.
“You okay?” I finally had to ask.
He flinched as if caught off guard by the question.
“What do you mean?” He sounded a little panicked.
“I mean you’re really quiet this morning. Something wrong?”
“No! I mean, of course not.” He kept his eyes on the road. “Everything’s fine. Just fine.”
I chalked it up to the Monday morning blahs and didn’t ask again.
Things got stranger when Onion joined us for breakfast in the cafe. I was glad to see she was wearing a new outfit. Actually, a couple of them, as usual.
“Good heavens,” I said. “That’s a dress?”
That’s what I always said whenever Onion showed up wearing something new; it was a line out of The Movie and our standard routine.
“Yes,” was all she replied. No customary exaggerated eye roll, no “That was only funny the first time” usual response.
And she sat down without another word—not even a hello—ignoring both of us as she unwrapped her plastic fork and knife.
I was beginning to wonder if I were turning invisible, or if both Dave and Onion were turning into zombies.
I played along with the silence for a while and finished my morning coffee, waiting for some crack in the armor, for somebody to break down and tell me why the three of us were suddenly strangers.
I smashed my empty paper cup flat to get their attention. Onion jumped.
“All right. I don’t know what’s happening here, but this is ridiculous. Somebody say something.”
Dave sighed. “Onion and I went to a movie Saturday night.”
While that news wasn’t startling, I hadn’t expected to hear that Dave and Onion went somewhere without me. That was a first. In some small way, I suddenly felt neglected.
“Oh. That’s it? Is that why you were both too busy to go to the house party with me? Why didn’t you say something? The way things went, I would have rather gone to a movie with you.”
Onion reddened slightly, her gaze averted.
I sat up straight, the obvious truth finally sinking in.
“Wait a minute! You mean you two went on a—” I had trouble just saying the word “—date?”
I hadn’t meant to make it sound so disgusting, but I did.
Dave slumped as if the horrible secret were out.
“Yeah. Kind of. Sort of.”
Onion said nothing, gazing at her breakfast as it grew cold.
After all these years, it never even remotely occurred to me that there would ever been any kind of romantic interest between Dave and Onion. We were just buds, good friends, chums, the three amigos, those three people who always sat by themselves in the far corner of the cafe. It would have been easier for me to believe that Dave and Onion actually were zombies, rather than interested in each other in quite that way.
“So, like, why now?” I had to ask.
Dave stirred as if not sure himself. “Well, I’ve always liked Onion.”
She reddened slightly again.
“I like Onion, too, but we would never go on a date, now would we?” I looked directly at Onion. “Do you like Dave, too? The way he likes you?”
She shrugged half-heartedly. “Sure. I don’t know.”
Now, instead of feeling left out, I had this overwhelming curiosity to know more about their supposed date. I tried to act casual about it but knew I was failing miserably.
“So . . . what happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I already told you. We went to a movie.”
“And?” I asked, beginning to hate myself for prying but fascinated by this totally unexpected turn of events.
“And nothing. I picked her up from home, we went to the theater, I bought the tickets and snacks, and when the movie was over I took her home. The end.”
I blinked, trying to think of a suitable response to what sounded like the most boring date ever.
“So how was that any different from when the three of us hang out, except for the fact that you paid for everything?”
Dave threw his hands up, seemingly exasperated by my questions.
“We just had to know, that’s all! And now we do.”
I knew he didn’t want to hear yet another question, but I just had to ask.
“What do you know?”
“That we were just meant to be friends,” Dave replied without any hesitation.
Onion nodded.
No one spoke.
It was my turn to express my exasperation.
“I hope this isn’t the way it’s going to be from now on, the two of you sitting there like uncomfortable strangers and me starting all the conversations.”
“No, not at all,” Onion tried to assure me. “We’ll get over it.”
“Are you sure? I sure hope your ‘date’ didn’t permanently spoil our friendship here.”
I was almost sorry for being so blunt, but that was exactly how I felt, even if it did make me sound like kind of a jerk.
“It’s not always about you, George.” Dave said. He glanced at Onion, who still refused to look directly at us. “We just thought there might be something more between us. There isn’t. End of story.”
“Fair enough. Let me know when you’re ‘over it.’”
Again, no one spoke. I fiddled with my smashed paper cup and then had an idea.
I flicked the cup aside. “Okay, let’s come to an agreement here. To return everything back to normal, we’re going to pretend that your date never happened and solemnly swear that we’ll never mention it again. If one of us forgets and brings it up, the standard answer will be ‘Date? What date? I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Agreed?”
Onion looked up at me for the first time that morning. Dave seemed intrigued by the idea.
“Could it be that simple?” Dave wondered out loud.
“Is what that simple?” I asked, already upholding my end of the bargain.
“I don’t know . . .” Onion said, looking like she wanted to be convinced but wasn’t.
I decided to take a different approach.
“All right, then. Here.” I picked up a spoon. “I’ll hypnotize both of you so you’ll forget all about it.”
Onion started to laugh, cutting it short when she saw me waving the spoon.
“That won’t work! Will it?”
“It will if you believe it,” Dave said, leaning forward to focus on the spoon, more than willing to give it a try.
Onion hesitated, sighed, and then moved in closer, too, even if she still looked like she wasn’t convinced.
I cleared my throat to prepare my best mesmerizing intonation as I rhythmically waved the spoon. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to say but pressed ahead anyway, like a lame version of The Amazing Kreskin or something. All I had to go on were the bogus incantations of actors playing hypnotists in old movies and TV shows I had seen years ago,
“You are getting sleepy, very sleepy. Soon you will be under my control. The only sound you can hear now is the sound of my voice, commanding you to believe what I say. The events of Saturday night are quickly fading, fading from your mind. They were all just a dream, an illusion, a fantasy without any meaning. The overpriced tickets, the too-salty popcorn, the less-than-ideal seats, the endless coming attractions for bad movies you’ll never bother to see, the whiny kids and the ringing cellphones that ruined everything are all gone now, all gone. They have been permanently erased from your memory now, never to return. You are and forever shall be only friends—with George, too, of course—and when you wake, you will feel refreshed, and everything will be as it’s always been, as it’s always been. That is my command that you shall obey, now and forever. You may both awaken!”
I put the spoon down and waited, not sure if anything I said had any effect.
Both Dave and Onion relaxed, as if a great burden had been lifted from them, even though it was painfully obvious neither had actually been hypnotized by my spur-of-the-moment, rather pathetic performance. All I did was provide a way out of their awkwardness, and they wisely took it.
Dave stretched and looked around as if surprised to find himself in the cafe.
Onion picked up her fork to eat as if nothing unusual had just occurred.
I nodded, pleased that my plan had actually worked. But then I saw Onion glance up at Dave with the hint of a sly grin, just a fleeting look I sensed I wasn’t supposed to catch. Dave coughed softly as if to signal her that I was watching.
I sat back, staring from one to the other. Onion took a sharp breath and tapped my arm lightly, then pulled away as if unsure how I was going to react, her eyes filled with concern.
“Nothing changes, George.”
“Yeah,” Dave said. “We’re still just friends like always.”
Feeling foolish now, and naive, I nodded again.
“Maybe I should have just hypnotized myself.”
Both Onion and Dave laughed a little, and then Dave reverted back to his old self, holding court now as was his custom at our table.
“Man, can you believe that stupid assignment we just got in Geography? Is Jorgenson kidding? It’s like something you’d be asked to do in graduate school. Who’s got the time for . . .”
And we never, ever spoke about their date again.