At lunch, he took his dilemma to the teachers’ lounge with his three closest women friends, all battle-worn veterans of the singles scene—Michelle (Social Studies), Courtney (French), and Julia (Language Arts). Usually he just listened to his friends chat about parents, the administration, and what was up with whatever reality TV show they were watching recently, but he was going up against a rock star. He needed the big guns, the big ammo. He needed these three.
He cleared his throat in a brief pause in the conversation over whether or not Clive should’ve given the pearls to Jennifer M. last night on some show he’d never heard of. “Ladies, I need your advice about…” He coughed and pulled at the collar of his button-down shirt. “Love.”
Michelle, Courtney, and Julia turned to him with equal looks of shock.
Courtney shut her gaping mouth with a snap. “Is it Stephanie? Are you going to pop the question?”
The women exchanged looks of glee. He quickly filled them in on the rock-star problem.
“I don’t know, Dave,” Julia said in her thoughtful tone. “It sounds like a bad situation all around. Why don’t you wait until she’s divorced before you do anything?”
Courtney disagreed. Loudly. “She said it was over. Why should they suffer because her soon-to-be ex is an asshole?” She glared at the other two women before turning back to him with a smile. “Can I meet him? I love Twisted Star.”
“Er…” he stalled.
“I know what Dave is going for here,” Michelle said. She was a former cheerleader, current cheerleading coach, and very gung-ho and perky. “You want to wow her with something romantic. Am I right?”
“Awww,” the women chorused.
His ears burned.
“Try a massage,” Michelle said. “Women love massages. Especially a foot massage after a long day of being on your feet.”
“What if he can’t get her alone with Griffin hanging around?” Julia said. “I think maybe something nice like doing a chore for her. One time my boyfriend, Mike, cooked and washed the dishes. It was quite nice. An act of service shows love.”
Courtney made a face of disgust. “Isn’t that the same guy that peed in your sink when you were using the bathroom?”
“That doesn’t change the act of service,” Julia snapped.
“Peeing in the sink changes everything!” Courtney exclaimed.
Dave rubbed the back of his neck and wished the ladies would keep the volume down. People were starting to listen in. He didn’t want everyone to know about this awkward situation he’d found himself in.
“Maybe a hike and a picnic,” Michelle suggested, her eyes lighting up. “Or a long bike ride.”
“Camping!” Julia exclaimed.
“A nice hotel with room service!” Courtney exclaimed.
He looked at the table. None of those things sounded quite right. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
Julia put a hand on his arm. “Hey, this is Dave we’re talking about. Sweet is his strong suit. He should do something sweet.”
“Something an asshole rock star would never come up with,” Courtney said. “Though don’t tell him I said that. I would love to get his autograph or something.” Her cheeks turned pink, which was very unusual for Courtney.
“I’ve got it!” Michelle said. “He could write her a love poem. Yes?”
“Je serai poete et toi poesie,” Courtney said dreamily. “It means: I’ll be a poet, and you’ll be poetry.”
“Ladies, I’m a math teacher,” he said patiently. “Poems aren’t my field of expertise.” He was never going to win Steph over at this rate.
“Have you heard of Fibonacci poetry?” Julia asked.
“Fibonacci?” Dave asked. “As in the numerical pattern that’s often found in nature?” The Fibonacci sequence was a pattern where each number was equal to the sum of the two numbers before it—1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21. The recursive sequence described spirals such as sunflowers and conch shells. He loved the Fibonacci sequence.
Julia smiled. “Exactly. We’ve been experimenting with it in class. You use the Fibonacci sequence to write a poem. Each line of the poem has the number of words in the sequence or you could do the number of syllables.”