You Love Me(You #3)(35)
And she wants to erase us too.
Last week, you told her not to give up on the dream of Minnesota and she LOLed.
Lol MK I’m not moving. Never seeing Harry again.
You just sounded so excited about going there. You never know… maybe you will
Right. Kind of like you and your new little boyfriend… see we DO know lol
That’s not fair. That was… that was one kiss.
LOL MK. Face it. I’m not moving to MN. BI is home. You’re not leaving Phil. He’s home. These are facts. This is why we drink our wine LOL
But she’s not honest with you, Mary Kay. After she blew you off with an LOL, she sent two follow-up emails to HR reps in Minneapolis. She’s allowed to make her moves but she discourages you from making your moves. She suffers and so she wants you to suffer and now she’s wide awake, pounding on the glass walls of my Whisper Room, screaming like a bad actress in a B movie. I crack my knuckles. I can do this. I can take on her voice. And I have to because the two of you text all fucking day. You type. Same way you do every fucking morning.
How’s life?
IT IS SEVEN A.M. WHY DON’T YOU WOMEN LEAVE EACH OTHER ALONE? I breathe. This is the upside to this mess. I get to change your life. I type.
Sweetie omg big news. Fingers crossed. I’m in a mad rush to Minneapolis for a job interview yeeee and I already talked to a couple guys on Bumble lolol who knows but yeeeeee lolol xoxo
My heart is pounding, the sun is up. Did I do a good job? Do you buy me as Melanda? Here come the dots—please, God, you owe me—and here comes your response.
Congrats!
It’s a win and I needed a win and you text again, sharing your own news—you’re getting a haircut today. I put Melanda’s phone in my pocket—she told you, Mary Kay, she’s in a mad rush—and it will be satisfying to see you growing, weaning off your “sister,” but now it’s time for the hard part.
I have to go and face my attacker.
When I get downstairs, I don’t look in the cage and my Whisper Room was never supposed to be a cage. I stand in front of my TV and Melanda’s behind me, locked up and screaming—You’re a fucking pervert—but I owe it to you to try and make her see the light. She spits at the glass and it turns out the Whisper Room isn’t actually soundproof, which means that I hear every word of her abuse. “You are a fucking pedophile and a psychopath and a fucking sociopath and you will pay for this, you sicko. Let me out. Now.”
Ha! That is not how we catch flies, Melanda, and I sigh. “Well, make up your mind. Which is it? What am I, exactly? All three or just one?”
I sit in my chair and I take out my flash cards. She is the teacher but I am the professor and I was up all night making a lesson plan. She bashes the glass wall with her fists. “PEDOPHILE!”
I sigh and shake my head. “Wrong.”
“Fuck you.”
“Come on, Melanda. You’re smarter than that.”
“I know, Joe. I know about your dirty Bukowski book.”
You must have told her I thought Nomi might like Bukowski over the phone because I didn’t see that in your texts. “For God’s sake, Melanda, you should know that reading Bukowski is a good way to learn about vile men. You’re an English teacher.”
She blinks fast and pivots. “For your information, I’m actually trained to spot pedophiles and using a mom as a conduit, well, that’s the oldest trick in the book. Obviously.”
“I think your meditation apps are making you paranoid.”
“Make all the snide jokes you want, sweetie. I know what I saw. You’re a monster. You are a pedophile and you will be the one who winds up behind bars.”
“Moving on,” I say. And I pick up my flash cards. “I found your diary in the notepad app on your phone…”
“No. No you didn’t.”
She bangs on the glass and I choose one of my favorites. “Date,” I say. “November first. ‘MK calls and expects me to pick up as if I don’t have a LIFE but when I call HER does she pick up? Nope! Too busy with her familyyyyyyy. Try being alone you mommy whiner!’?”
She makes earmuffs. “Stop it.”
I pick another flash card. A real gem. “Date: October twenty-seventh.”
“You are a child molester, you sicko. These are notes. I get PMS. That is private.”
I maintain my composure and I read Melanda’s diary. “?‘Sometimes I just wish I could MURDER MK so smug like she’s first woman to ever have a crush at work GET A LIFE GRRR and if Nomi was my kid like just no. Be a role model STOP FLIRTING YOU SLUT HE’S NOT IN LOVE WITH YOU NOT EVERY GUY IS SO CRAZY ABOUT YOU and buy some fucking pants WHERE IS MY PERIOD FUCK YOU WORLD.’?”
“Stop it, Joe. You have no idea. Female friendships… they’re complicated.”
I go into her texts and open the history of Melanda and Seamus. “Huh,” I say. “Is that why you drunk-text Seamus asking who was a better lay back in high school?”
She spits at me, as if I’m the one who texts Shortus—I still can’t believe you slept with him, it stings, it does—and I sigh. “I’m not judging you, Melanda. I’m just trying to help you see that sometimes… you’re wrong.”
“FUCK YOU, PERVERT.”