The Boyfriend Blog

I open my mouth to tell her that he already has, and then snap it shut. Edna would take that information and run with it. “For as long as I’ve known Aiden—which has been a long damn time—he’s never been with a girl for longer than two dates. I don’t even know if he’s ever had an actual girlfriend.”

“You still didn’t answer my question,” Edna says, raising a silver brow. “What would you say if he asked you out?”

Every time he asks, I desperately want to say “yes,” but then I remember that awful night in college that I hate thinking about, and my answer is always no. Aiden as a friend is safe, but Aiden as anything more…isn’t.

“Ladies and gentlemen, are we ready for the final question?” the emcee says.

“Whoop!” Saved by the Senior Center director. I clap my hands and look at Edna, Betty, and Clara. “Let’s do this!”

I hear a similar commotion coming from Aiden’s table and the third table in the back, but I’m not too worried about them; they’ve yet to win a game.

“For the win: Which famous song sung by Doris Day was introduced in the 1956 Hitchcock thriller, The Man Who Knew Too Much?”

My lips part, ready to blurt out the answer when I realize I don’t know it. I look frantically at the girls. “Who is Doris Day?”

Betty laughs. “I love Doris Day.”

“Me, too,” Edna says as she hums an unknown tune and sways her shoulders from side to side. “And I love that song.”

“What song? Tell me the song. Shout it out!”

“Secret Love!” Mr. Phillips yells.

The men’s table erupts in cheers while I drop my head to my hands and sulk. A whole three months of washing Aiden’s underwear.

I cringe in my seat.

“That answer is…wrong,” the emcee announces.

My head pops up. The room goes quiet as everyone whispers.

“Mmmm.” Edna continues to hum.

“Do you know the answer?” I ask.

She nods. “I was twenty when that song came out. I remember every word.”

“For the love of fifties music, shout it out, lady!”

Edna tosses her arthritic hand into the air and shouts, “Que Sera, Sera.”

“Correct! We have a winner!”

I jump from my seat, high-five my teammates, and do a happy dance across the floor to where Aiden sits. He stands up, pushes his hands into his pockets, and watches me twirl around his table.

“Are you done yet?” he asks blandly after a solid five minutes.

I smile and shove playfully at his shoulder. “I’m just so happy.”

“I bet you are.”

“Should I bring over the first load of laundry tonight?”

“Haha. Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. I’m serious. You do separate your darks from your whites, right?”

“Yes.” He rolls his eyes and reaches for Edna’s elbow when she shuffles up to us. He lowers his head and whispers, “I’m blaming this on you, Edna. I thought we were friends, and here you are, helping the enemy win.”