You Love Me(You #3)(43)
I can’t be here. And no I don’t want to get on the ferry and ride to Seattle and stuff my face with salmon ampersand quinoa and visit a bookstore underneath a market—we get it, Seattle, you have history—only to be hungry an hour later and hunt down some restaurant with a twee pink door. All of that is really only fun if you’re doing it with someone you love and I love you but you’re like the rest of the islanders right now.
You’re in bed.
I put on my gloves—no fucking prints, no DNA—and I unlock the door to Melanda’s condo and set the stage for her departure in case you do pop by. I go in the bathroom—the door is propped open by a copy of The Thorn Birds that she cut in half—and it’s a foul mess of O.B. tampons and Fitness magazines and monogrammed towels: MRS. Wow. Melanda Ruby Schmid really is a very bad dog. Her parents knew it, burying the ruby because they knew she wasn’t a gem, saddling her with initials she could never live up to. I pick up a framed photo of you and your best friend and even when she’s happy, she’s miserable. Hiding behind sunglasses while you squint in the sun.
I check my phone. Melanda is tearing the sheets off the bed and she isn’t capable of appreciating a surprise movie-binge staycation because she isn’t capable of love. She only sleeps in one half of her bed at home—the other half is littered with mini Dove wrappers and oh for fuck’s sake, Melanda, you’re not a supermodel. Buy a candy bar.
She’s reading Sarah Jio’s Violets of March and no, Melanda, that book isn’t about you. It’s about a nice woman, a divorcée who got married because she believed in love, unlike some people.
Was she right, Mary Kay? Are you never gonna leave him?
I open the junk drawer in her kitchen and she has dozens of Women’s Fitness exercise calendars and they’re glued together by time and self-loathing. I look in her mirror—it rests on the other half of The Thorn Birds—and it lies to me and makes me taller and thinner than I am. I look above her mirror where there’s another big fat lie in the form of a cheery sign: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. I pick up her computer and the last thing she googled was young Carly Simon and no, Melanda. You don’t look like Carly Simon because Carly Simon has a soul. I turn on her TV where it’s nothing but Real Housewives. She didn’t watch the documentaries made by women for women that she praises on Twitter and she listens to “Coming Around Again” so much because if no one ever stays—and who could stay—then no one ever leaves and thus no one can ever return to play the game again with her.
But this is the burden of being a good guy. I would never say any of that to her.
The person I need right now is you. And it’s late but it’s not that late.
I pick up Melanda’s phone.
Melanda: You there?
You: Yep. Can’t sleep. How’s the trip? Did you get in safe?
Oh, Mary Kay. You could sleep if you were with me and so could I.
Melanda: Yes and sooooo… okay so I met someone lol
You: Already? You just landed, no?
Melanda: Well… we actually started talking a couple months ago but long distance I mean I didn’t say anything because who knows but now I’m here and well… NOW I KNOW lol
You: Wow. Well that’s… great?
Oh, Mary Kay, you are greener by the bubble.
Melanda: lol yes with him right now so gotta scram but yay for meeee!
You: Wow! Details? Tell me he’s not married.
Jesus, you are jealous and as well you should be. You see now that Melanda took a leap of faith so she gets to be happy and this is how I make you see the light.
Melanda: Nope! Divorced. Totally free… no offense lol
You: Ha.
I grin. It is a little fun to get under your skin.
Melanda: wow INDEED and he can KISS lol speaking of which… how’s your little friend?
You: That’s so great M!
You didn’t bite the bait but on a good note, I hear the pain in your voice.
Melanda: I forgot about just kissing someone who like really really really knows how to kiss lol am sorry I am in seventh grade right now woo hooo lololol
You: Yeah. Nothing like a kiss.
I miss your yeah and do you mean our kiss?
Melanda: You ok with stuff?
You: Yeah. Just trying to get Nomi to do her college essay. Maybe I’ll go back to college too! When do you find out about the job?
Jesus, Mary Kay. Life moves forward. You went to college. You married Phil. Get with the program and move on. Don’t pine for the past and don’t make it all about the future. Be here now and give me your Lemonhead.
Melanda: Haha you could not pay me to go back to school I am so happy right now. I mean Carl… my interview is tomorrow but I feel really good about it you know?
You: So happy for you M. Seriously.
Seriously. Take it in, Mary Kay. I know that divorce used to seem like a bad idea, like you’d be at wine bars eight nights a week with Melanda. Squabbling over horny Shortus types, men you don’t even like, regretting every decision that led to that barstool. But you met me. It’s time to leave that fucker and be with me. Carl did it. He left his wife and you can too.
Melanda: Ok seriously back at you ARE YOU OK you can talk about joe. I won’t yell at you and make fun of his sweater lol I promise
I wait. I watch the screen. Nothing. Nothing at all. And then a minute later:
You: Melanda you don’t have to make a dig at him every time I mention him. I know you don’t like him. Message received.