LOVE IN THREE ACTS

“Whatcha doing?” “Huh? Oh, nothing.” She had already slid the paper beneath the book propped up before her. “Just doodling.” “I know that look of concentration, Libby. You don't look like that for doodling. And, come to think of it, I don't believe I've ever known you to doodle.” Curious, Marty scrunched carefully over Donna as she continued to sleep on. “What's up, you two?” “Gosh, you guys, you're making a big deal out of nothing.” “Then why be so furtive?” “It's just a list.” Reluctantly, Libby pulled out the paper, extending it in the direction of her two friends. “The food made him sick,” Marty began to read aloud. Jean snatched it from her hand and continued, “I had bad breath. OK, so it's a list. What of?” “I don't suppose you're going to let me get away with saying it's none of your business.” “Nope.” “Absolutely not,” Marty echoed. “ – or private.” “Libby – ” “I know. Best friends. No secrets. This just seemed so silly.” “But not, apparently, to you.” Marty leaned closer so the three could talk quietly. “So what's it all about?” “You're going to think I'm a complete idiot.” “Go on.” “I was thinking about the night Zack came for dinner. You remember – ” “Of course. I thought we were never going to get back in the house.” “It wasn't that late. Come on, you guys.” “Keep going, Libby.” “This is so embarrassing . . . .well, then again maybe it'll help if I can talk about it.” Marty and Jean both inched a little closer. “It's just that when he was leaving, well, he gave me a hug – ” “I'm hardly surprised.” “So what's embarrassing about that?” “Me. What I did, I mean. I thought he was going to kiss me so I raised my lips . . . and . . . ” “For Pete's sakes, Libby. Get on with it.” “I guess I kissed him.” “And what, pray tell, is so embarrassing about that?” “He didn't kiss me back.” “You mean he shoved you away? What a cad!” “No. He didn't do that. I could have understood that. Well, I think I could have. He just stood there. Like a statue.” “Now I really don't understand.” Libby smiled. “I've decided the best way I could describe what it was like was to compare it to kissing the back end of a yellow school bus on a cold morning.” “Kiss many school buses, Libby?” “Shush, Marty. Sounds to me like your lips would get stuck to the bus. Isn't that what you wanted?” “Not that cold.” “Wait a minute. You're telling us he just stood there?” “And did nothing?” Libby nodded with the slightest blush creeping up her cheeks. “Well, what did you do then?” “That was even worse. I apologized. Oh, I don't know. I said something stupid about it being an early birthday present. For him. I was so flustered. So embarrassed. See? I am again now.” “But your list?” “Just a silly bunch of explanations of why what happened happened.” “So you're blaming yourself for bad breath – or giving him indigestion?” “Or . . . ” “All right, you two. As long as you know now, tell me what you think. What did go wrong? What happened?” “Are you as confused as I?” Jean turned to Marty. “I can't imagine any man reacting like that. Or have we simply been so spoiled by all those wonderful Italians?” Puckering as if trying to imagine the scene, Jean caught the eye of an older man across the aisle. He smiled as she blushed as well.