Side Trip(70)

Joy laughs. “You say the strangest things.”

“It’s true!” Taryn exclaims. She lays a hand over Joy’s. “Listen, Mark loves you. He wants what’s best for you if you give him the chance. That means letting him in. Tell him you’re scared. But there’s something you’ve got to do first if your marriage is going to work.”

“What’s that?”

“Purge Dylan. I have an idea. But first . . .” She flags the bartender and orders two more rounds of liquid courage, then leads them to the fountain in Washington Square Park.

“How does this work?” Joy asks, staring at the gurgling water. City lights shimmer off the surface. Her head spins and she stumbles into Taryn, woozy from the alcohol.

Taryn holds out her hand. “Step number one: give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“Just give it to me. Plug in your password.”

Joy does and hands over her phone. “I’m cleaning up your social media accounts,” Taryn explains. “Everything’s going to private.”

“Whoa, wait a sec.” She reaches for her phone. Her phone is her business. Taryn steps out of reach, tapping the screen. She then shows Joy her Facebook profile. “You have everything set to public. Do you know how many wackos troll your profile? Have you checked your message requests in Messenger?”

Joy shakes her head.

Taryn laughs, evil-like, and shows her. The inbox is filled with unread messages, all from men she doesn’t know. Joy’s eyes widen. “Who are those guys?”

“Trolls.” Taryn deletes the messages.

“What if there’s one from someone I know?”

“Trust me, there isn’t,” Taryn says, updating Joy’s privacy settings.

“What does my Facebook profile have to do with your idea to help me?”

“You post as if someone is watching. You’re hoping Dylan sees your photos. Admit that you do.”

Joy can’t. “Give me that.” She takes her phone and clicks through her profile settings to see what Taryn changed.

Taryn looks over Joy’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Finishing what you started. Updating my profile. See?”

Taryn squints at the screen. “Relationship status: it’s complicated.” Her gaze jumps to Joy’s. “Is there something more going on with you and Mark that you haven’t told me?”

Joy shakes her head. She’s drunk and feeling pissy. She wants to be angry at Mark but can only find it for herself. Dylan was right. Relationships, especially marriage, are a complicated mess. When she tripped across the relationship status setting, she couldn’t resist.

“What’s next?” she asks, sliding her phone into her back pocket.

Taryn digs around her purse for loose change and drops a handful of coins in Joy’s palm. “Step two: the Purge, and not like the movie, which was horrible. How about we call it the Dude Purge?”

Joy slides her friend a look. “How drunk are you?”

“No more than you. Just go with me on this.”

Joy looks at the coins in her hand. “How is this supposed to work?”

“It’s a mash-up between this cable show I once saw and our most favorite movie ever, Ten Things I Hate About You.”

Joy groans. “Favorite movie like fifteen years ago.”

“Poor Heath.” Taryn sighs. “Let’s have a moment.”

Taryn prays. Joy giggles. She feels ridiculous. People are milling about.

“All right, let’s get started,” Taryn announces. She retrieves a coin from Joy.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Nope. I’m winging it. Take a coin like this.” She shows Joy the penny. “Close your eyes and say out loud one thing you hate about Dylan. For example, I hate that you never told me about him. Then toss the coin.” She overhands the penny into the fountain.

Joy shoots Taryn a perturbed look.

“It’s true. I hate that about you.”

“Hate you more.” She looks around. “I’m only doing this because I’m drunk. I feel so foolish,” Joy mutters. She weighs a coin in her palm, a dime. Here goes nothing.

She closes her eyes and brings Dylan to mind. She can’t think of one thing she hates about him, so she zeroes in on all the times that he needled her. He’d annoy her for the sole purpose of being annoying, like that evening at the Midpoint Café.

“I hate that he could be the sweetest guy one second and a total asshole the next.”

“Good! But say it like you’re talking directly to him,” Taryn interrupts before Joy can toss the dime. She pats Joy’s shoulder. “This will be very therapeutic.”

“Thank you, Dr. Taryn.” She closes her eyes again. “I hate that you were such an asshole.”

“Better. Now say it with conviction.” Taryn growls, baring her teeth and waving her fists.

Joy would laugh at Taryn if she didn’t feel foolish. “I hate that you’re an asshole,” she yells, and hurls the dime.

Taryn claps. “Do it again.”

She palms a nickel. “I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you,” she shouts, and overhands the coin.

“Feel better?” Taryn asks.