You Love Me(You #3)(39)

You’re a fox. Foxes know they look good. I stare at you. “Hey, are you all right?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Just tired.” Bullshit. “I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” More bullshit and that’s a lazy answer, a child’s answer, a stranger’s answer. “And I’m a little weirded out. Melanda says she’s headed to Minneapolis today.”

I’m tired and spent and now I long for you to go back to your bullshit because YOUR BEST FRIEND IS IN MY FUCKING BASEMENT and why didn’t I just let you go home? I nod. “Vacation?”

“She says she’s going on a job interview.”

Red flags abound. If you believed Melanda’s story, you would have said that she’s leaving town, not that she says she’s leaving. I sip my water. You rub your forehead. “Maybe it’s just me…” Yes. Let’s go with that theory. “She’s always talked about moving there one day… but the timing feels off. Or maybe I’m off.”

“Maybe we should get something to eat.”

You ignore my suggestion. “Last week, we took one of those quizzes to find out which Succession character you are…” I know. I already read the texts and I was surprised that Shortus got Roman. “Anyway,” you say. “Melanda got Ken Doll as you call him…” God, I love you. You remember everything. “And I got the evil ogre dad.”

“I don’t think Logan’s an ogre.”

“Ah, so you watched it.”

“Yes I did and Logan Roy is a good man. His spoiled kids are the evil ogres.”

“No,” you say. “Logan Roy is a monster. His kids have issues because of him.”

“That’s a cheat,” I say. “You can’t go through life blaming your childhood for the way you are as an adult.”

You shut down on me and maybe you and your husband belong in my Whisper Room with your friend Melanda because maybe you’re all broken birds, busted beyond repair. You rub your eyes and your hands are trembling and it’s just a stupid TV show. I have empathy for you. I want to take care of you. “Hey,” I say. “I think we should get you something to eat.”

“Joe, I’m married.” A beat. “Seriously.”

You did it. You told me the truth. And now you won’t look at me, only at the table, and I should be relieved—we’re in a new place—but if we go deep right now, you’re gonna want to hash it all out with Melanda. I pray for a kitchen fire but it’s no use.

We’re here. Melanda is in my basement. And you’re staring at me. Waiting.

I do what anyone would do at a time like this. I stay silent. I don’t acknowledge the waiter when he drops the check as if he’s pushing us out the door and I stare at the table. I remember the Titanic ferry.

You sigh. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Well, say something.”

“What do you want me to say? I know.”

“You know?”

“Mary Kay, come on. You can’t be all that surprised…”

You sip your water. “How long have you known?”

I don’t want you to think I’m a liar like you and I don’t want you to feel worse than you already do and you are part fox. You want to feel clever. You like to feel clever. So I lie to you. “Only for a couple days.”

You snort a little. It’s not becoming. It’s not you. “Wow. I guess I’m a really good liar.”

“I wanted to be in the dark.”

You want to have all the power and this is why Melanda resents you, because you think being in a shitty marriage makes you superior. “Joe, let’s not fight.”

“We’re not fighting.” We are fighting.

My heart isn’t in my body. It’s on the table. Right in front of you. Bloody. Raw. Beating. “Joe,” you say, and you say it the wrong way. “I didn’t come here to tell you I’m leaving him. This isn’t a date.”

Yes you are and yes it is. “I know that.”

“And I’m not a cheater.”

Yes you are, but things will be different with me. “Of course you’re not.”

“My daughter… if she knew about that night…”

You loved that night and I did too. “I mean it, Mary Kay. I didn’t say a word.”

“And I didn’t come clean because I’m about to make any changes in my life. And if that were to happen… which isn’t to say that it will happen…” Yes it will! “Well… that’s why I can’t do this with you on any level. You cannot be the man who wrecked my marriage.”

Everyone knows that the people in the marriage are the ones responsible for the marriage, everyone except married people, and I sip my water. “Agree.”

“And I am sorry. I should have told you that night at the pub. Hell, when ‘Italian Restaurant’ came on… I mean why didn’t I just say it then? What’s wrong with me?”

I tell you there is nothing wrong with you and you tell the waiter that we want another round—yes!—and you stand—be right back—and I take out Melanda’s phone and sure enough, there you are.

I’m a horrible person aren’t I?

Melanda ignores you because you need to think for yourself. I put her phone back in my pocket and a minute later, you come back. Your hair is flatter and you take a deep breath like you were using one of her meditation apps. “Okay,” you say. “What do you want to know?”