A series of fortunate coincidences and unfortunate encounters, and vice versa; a blissful chaos of four girls interrupted by loud neighbours, tall, dark, and handsome strangers, and luminous fairy people; a hunt for love, freedom, and self.
This is Seattle and it's 1988. Hold on.
Rainy with a 100% chance of appearances from the likes of Mudhoney, Soundgarden, Alice In Chains, Mother Love Bone, Nirvana, etc.
* * * chapter list chapters in chronological order original characters questions/feedback submissions fanfic masterlist
PREVIOUSLY: Kat starts a new writing job, but her mind is increasingly preoccupied by Mark after Gwen’s couples quiz exposed unanticipated truths between them; irked by some of the things he said, she keeps her distance, but Mark confronts her, leaving Kat struggling with the growing realization that her feelings for him are becoming harder to ignore; at a crowded house party, their chemistry becomes even more evident as they fall back into teasing, clumsy flirting, and emotionally charged arguments that blur the line between friendship and something more, while their friends openly speculate about their connection; meanwhile, Gwen learns Mark is planning on moving and corners him about his obvious crush on Kat before interrogating the girls about their love lives: Lizzy insists she and Jerry are trying to rebuild trust, Eva reluctantly admits she’d consider dating Jeff, and the conversation inevitably circles back to Mark; despite insisting nothing is happening between them, Kat never explicitly denies having feelings for him, only voicing a fear that Mark’s history with Kristine proves he’s incapable of a healthy relationship
Stone shows up outside the apartment building exactly seven minutes late wearing a tiger print vest over a shirt that looks like it lost a fight with a lawnmower. “Wow,” I say as I climb into the passenger seat of his car. “Did you get dressed in a dark room during an earthquake?”
“Good evening to you too, Kat. And you're most welcome.”
“Right, thanks,” I quickly pull my face into a big grin. I asked Stone to give me a ride to the Soundgarden show - just as a logistics thing. But honestly, I thought about who I'd want there with me for a while and he’s somehow the one person. I mean, he can actually give me a ride, for one, he's also really fun to go to gigs with because he always has some weird off the cuff commentary about whatever is happening on stage, but above all, while he can be nosey and blunt, he can also take a hint and drop a topic if I tell him to drop it. This last part is something my roommates all struggle with to varying degrees, especially when it comes to a certain singer of a band. I am sure that if I took any of them to see Chris that would trigger renewed conversations about the topic.
“So. You ready to become a serious music journalist?”
“I’ve always been serious.”
“I’ve heard you describe a Skin Yard show as what being trapped inside a garbage disposal probably feels like.”
“Yes, and? That’s evocative writing.”
Stone cackles and pulls out into traffic while I settle deeper into the seat. I don't even know that I will necessarily run into Chris, I might just look at him up on stage, take some notes, and leave… But just in case, Stone is definitely better to have around than any one of my roommates, especially Gwen.
“How do you know Olive again?” I ask Stone twenty minutes and a heated argument about Nick Cave later, as we're getting out of his car. “She seems so cool and normal.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stone snorts.
“You've introduced me to an array of really odd people, it's just statistically unexpected you'd be friends with someone cool and normal.”
“I mean…” He looks me up and down very pointedly as we head for the entrance of the venue.
“Yeah, I walked right into that one…”
“Yeah. We used to work together a few years back.”
“Doing what?”
“We worked at a vegan bakery. What?” He eyes me when I wordlessly scrunch my eyebrows.
“Vegan bakery is even more unexpected. I didn’t know you can bake, Stone,” I laugh.
“That's a generous way to refer to weighing out flour and dumping it into an industrial mixer. Actually, I've had so many odd jobs in the last few years, I probably couldn't even list them all. Some of them would make the hairs on your neck stand.”
“Right. That sounds exhausting.” I sometimes think about how a bunch of people I know do this, especially people in bands – odd jobs, short term contracts, multiple things at the same time… I think I would get so overwhelmed by the constant change and the constant search of the next thing, I’d stop functioning entirely.
“It’s not so bad. There's the usual moving, painting, cleaning… Then sometimes the more exciting stuff comes along, like screen printing and running an adult video store… Actually, a fair few of these jobs I did with your neighbor.”
“Yeah, I think lately he’s been on the moving and painting stuff.”
“’tis the season,” Stone shrugs as he strides into the venue in front of me.
It’s busy and loud in here. I guess everyone wants to see one of Seattle’s hottest bands. I take approximately three more steps before someone barrels into my shoulder, something cold splashes all across my chest and the smell of cheap beer hits my nose. A guy freezes holding now mostly empty plastic cup. We both look down at the wet stain rapidly spreading across the entire front of my shirt.
“Oh my God,” he says. “I'm so sorry.”
“Fuckin’ A…” The shirt isn't ruined per se, but it's completely soaked.
The guy apologizes another three times before disappearing into the crowd. Stone, in the meantime, is having a grand old time, laughing his head off. I groan and tug the fabric away from my skin.
“Great…”
Stone finally gets himself under control enough to squint at my shirt. “Actually, hold on.”
“What?”
“I might have some shirts in the car.”
A couple of minutes later we're standing in the glow of a parking lot lamp while Stone digs through the back seat of his car. The amount of random junk back there is honestly impressive. There's a toolbox, which is quite shocking. Several milk crates full of records. A skateboard. A box labeled ‘TAX STUFF???’ and several pieces of clothing.
“Aha!” Stone triumphantly yanks a crumpled black T-shirt from beneath a pair of jeans.
When he unfolds it, I immediately wish he hadn't. “No.”
Stone starts laughing again when he takes a look at the front of the shirt: across the chest, in giant faded red letters reads SOUNDGARDEN.
“Absolutely not.”
“It looks clean, I think you should consider. I can’t promise there will be another one.”
“There has to be another one.”
He continues digging. A minute later he emerges with a giant tank top that I’m pretty sure belongs to Jeff. I stare at it. He stares at it. The shirt goes back into the pile.
“Okay,” he says. “The Soundgarden shirt remains our strongest candidate.”
Of all the shirts in all the cars in Seattle, the universe has apparently selected this one specifically to make my life difficult. Then again, I really might just watch the band play from the far end of the room, take some notes, and leave, completely unnoticed and unseen by Chris. It might be fine.
Considering my options are beer-soaked shirt, Jeff’s barely-there-shirt or a Soundgarden t-shirt, god is either dead or hates me. Either way, I end up putting the Soundgarden shirt on while crouching behind Stone’s car and we go back inside. Unfortunately, all the years of bad thoughts and deeds seem to be returning to me tonight in one big karma blow…
Chris, tall enough to stick out like a sore thumb, is standing near the bar with Kim, Matt, and a few other people I vaguely recognize, which is neutral enough in and of itself but because tonight is some kind of a twisted, backwards version of deus ex machina, Chris glances towards the entrance and spots us instantly over the crowd. His eyes land on me, then on the shirt, and his entire face changes, absolutely insufferable amusement written all over it.
I can see how hard it is for him to contain the glee as he walks over. “Hi!” He looks at Stone and then me. I kind of want to just…shoo him. I want to tell him to go away, he knows too much of me and we’re basically just acquaintances now; I have a hard time with that concept. But I’m trying to be better than that; healthier. The thought pulls a sigh out of me.
“Hello,” I say at the same time as Stone, although mine is a lot more stiff.
“Didn’t realize we had a superfan in attendance tonight.”
I cross my arms immediately. “Please don’t.”
Chris grins wider, looking down at the shirt again. “You buy that at the merch booth?”
“She did,” Stone cuts in. “In fact, she’s become your biggest fan recently. Ever since the traumatic brain injury. She listens to One Minute of Silence six times a day now or she gets confused and wanders into traffic. The doctors said it’s best to just let her give in to the impulses,” he keeps going on and I start laughing. “Better than scraping her off the street.”
“She’s always been like this Stoney, the brain injury had nothing to do with it,” Chris grins and I wrinkle my nose.
“Really? I don’t remember her being obsessed with bands that sound like Mötley Crüe fell down a flight of stairs before the injury.”
“Okay, the brain injury bit is getting overused now…”
“Mötley Crüe!?” Chris gasps over me.
“Maybe a little Whitesnake around the edges too.” This! This is exactly why I came with Stone! Note to self: I need to bake a year’s supply of cookies for him.
“Why is he so hateful today?” Chris looks at me now.
“I don’t know. He also made me wear this shirt…” I mention very conveniently.
“Another six months and you’re gonna start doing splits on car hoods in videos,” Stone goes on, drawing another tickled laugh out of me.
“He could probably pull it off,” I tell him.
Chris laughs. “See? She gets it.”
“I really don’t, but I support it. I think you have it in you. Good core strength.”
Chris points at me immediately. “There she is.” These words seem to come out before he really thinks about them and for a split second after neither of us says anything. Then Chris lifts both hands. “Sorry. I meant to say—”
“No, I got it.”
I wasn’t fair to him. Chris was charming and interesting to talk to, among other things, but he was also still mostly a stranger and strangers have always scared me more than they probably should. I didn’t want to label our relationship because I knew I’d get too attached if I did, but I never explained any of that to him. I didn’t know him well enough to be able to explain it, I guess. I was giddy and intimidated all at once; but mostly I was afraid of having feelings for someone I didn’t know well enough.
He studies me for a second. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
Stone looks between us. “I feel like I missed several seasons of a TV show.”
“You did,” Chris and I say at the same time and then both laugh.
And then after everything… I just shut him out. I was hurt, yes, but now looking back it’s almost embarrassing, the way I acted and reacted, the way I made it so absolute. I just wasn’t fair to him.
“Well,” I look at Chris. “Break a leg.”
“As a serious music journalist, I don’t think you should say that to your subject of dissection,” Stone tells me.
“I might mean it literally, you never know,” I say and easy laughter ripples through the group.
* * *
Only when I come back to the door, carrying a basket of laundry, do I realize I must have locked myself out of the apartment. Dang it! What are the chances one of the girls came back in the time it took me to go to and back from the laundry room? After ringing the doorbell a few times the answer seems to be zero. Crap… Maybe I can just wait, maybe someone will be home soon enough? I don’t even know what time it is right now… And I was really looking forward to making myself some iced tea and just relaxing, listening to some music or watching TV… Bummer!
Maybe Mark’s home? He could probably get in through Kat’s skylight and let me in. I set the laundry basket down and step over to his door; there’s a long moment after I knock where I don’t hear anything but then the door swings open.
“Mark! I’m so happy to see you!” I tell him honestly but he narrows his eyes at me, then sticks his head out into the hallway and looks around suspiciously.
“Lizzy, are you feeling okay?” He asks slowly.
I roll my eyes at him. “I locked myself out…”
“Ah, now that makes more sense.”
“Don’t act like I’m not usually happy to see you though!”
“But it’s funnier that way,” he pulls his lips into a big grin. “You need to get up on the roof then?”
“Actually, I would really prefer it if you did… I don’t love heights,” I tell him with a smile and my best puppy dog eyes.
“So you’re asking me to break into your home? Namely, into Novak’s room?”
“Well, not exactly… But kind of… Yes.”
“Cool. Give me two minutes.” He disappears back into his apartment, leaving the door open, and then much sooner than two minutes later I hear him unlocking our door. “Come in, make yourself at home,” he bows down with a big swoop of his arm and I bring my laundry in.
“Thanks Mark!”
“No problem.” He is really sweet and kind, I stand by my words.
“Mark, how come you and I never do anything together?” I rest the basket on my hip.
“You take too many baths, I don’t like singing Christian songs, you don’t think I’m funny…the list goes on.”
“Ah, yes, it’s because of how annoying you sometimes are…”
“Wow, the truth comes out.”
“I’m just kidding! Come on, let’s do something today.”
Mark considers this for a second. “Okay.”
I…wasn’t expecting that. “Okay?”
“Yeah. How about now?”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
“What were you doing before I knocked?”
“Working, so to speak. Writing,” he pops his eyes momentarily as he says it. “But I think I was about to write something Def Leppard already have so it’s really best if I take a break.”
“Great!”
“But just so you know,” he adds very seriously, “my mother grew up as a Hitler Youth in Germany, so if that’s something that’s too much for you, I’ll understand…”
“You know, from the moment I met you, I knew you’d be friends with Kat…” I bob my head as I stare straight through Mark’s face and when I focus on it again, he’s got this giddy smile. Of course he’s smiling at the mention of Kat. Cute! “Do you want some iced tea? I was going to make some hibiscus.”
“Lizzy, you know I never turn down free consumables.”
I put the kettle on and in the meantime, we somehow end up in my room. I guess Mark sort of drifted along with me when I went to put some of my laundry away. I think it’s the first time he’s been in here, which feels strange considering how often he’s at the apartment.
He starts looking around like he just entered a museum for the first time, slowly making his way around the perimeter of the room. At one point his eyes stop on a little stack of mixtapes on one of the shelves and he picks one up. “For Lizzy. Stop listening to terrible music.” He reads Kat’s handwriting. At least she drew a bunch of hearts all around it.
“She spent like three weeks making that,” I tell him.
“That’s an alarming amount of effort.”
“That’s Katie.”
He continues to look around my room, occasionally touching or commenting on something, while I hang my work clothes and leave the rest of the laundry basket for later. We come back out into the kitchen where I have to explain to him twice what hibiscus is, then we have a brief debate on whether we should use honey, sugar, or maple syrup for the tea, eventually settling on sugar. It’s actually kind of nice, I feel like I never get to talk to Mark this long or see him this relaxed… Maybe that’s not exactly the word I’m looking for but he seems somehow very at ease, probably because there’s not ten other people to pay attention to, which is usually the case in our apartment.
“…and honestly, I think the quiz thing wasn’t even that bad,” I tell him some time later, after we’ve brewed some extra strong tea and put it in the fridge to chill. I have somehow ended up on the topic of Jerry…
“The context made it worse,” Mark says and I just stare at him for a second because that’s absolutely true.
“Yeah… Plus, we just started dating… It’s normal.” I feel like I’m saying this more to myself than him though… I mean, it is normal. We like each other a lot and it has nothing to do with how much we know each other. We’ll get there, it’s natural. Just because we answered some questions differently, doesn’t mean that we’re fundamentally incompatible. “It takes some work, you know? People expect relationships to magically happen but that’s not always how it goes. It takes time and effort to build something solid. And it’s just…complicated, you know?”
“Why are you with him then? Surely you can find someone a little less complicated. This town is full to the brim of long haired cowboys.”
I blink at him, then a laugh bubbles out. “Mark, I’m sorry, but that’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard. Why do we fall for the people that we do? I don’t know!” I throw my arms out. “I didn’t choose it but I like Jerry so that’s that. Mark? Mark, what are you thinking about?”
“Nobody,” he says quickly.
“Nobody?..”
“I mean, nothing. Quit asking silly questions, Lizzy. So when’s the rematch?”
“You tell me, Mark.” Whenever you and Kat decide to stop beating around the bush!
“I’ll have to look at my calendar. So, is the tea ready yet?”
“Yeah, probably. We should add some cold water and ice and see if it’s sweet enough,” I say as I walk over to the fridge.
A while later the front door opens. Eva walks in first, then Kat follows. Both of them stop dead in their tracks and just stare at us: Mark and I are sitting at the kitchen table with glasses of tea, listening to Kat’s mixtape, chatting, snacking on some cookies, just hanging out.
“I think we’re in the wrong apartment,” Eva says.
“Yeah,” Kat nods. “I think we must’ve fallen a floor short.”
“Hi guys,” I ignore their bit. “You want some iced tea?”
A few minutes later, while Kat is making herself a sandwich, Mark finishes eating a cookie, rinses his hands, and wipes them directly on her shoulder. Kat immediately recoils.
“Why do you always have to dry your hands on my clothes?!”
Mark shrugs. “You’re my little dog.”
“What?”
“You know how some tribes in Papua New Guinea keep dogs around for wiping their hands? It’s basically that.”
“That makes no sense…”
He looks genuinely puzzled. “It makes perfect sense.”
He really needs to get better at flirting… Kat finishes assembling her sandwich and glances at the clock. “I’m gonna go call my sister.” She disappears into her room with her plate.
The conversation at the kitchen table stumbles on without her. Mark tells us a story from tour involving a broken washing machine, a church parking lot, and somebody's prosthetic leg that somehow gets less believable every time he adds a new detail but he swears it’s all true. Then we tell him about that time Gwen accidentally forgot a bag of potatoes in Eva’s car for a couple of weeks and then it reeked of rotten fish so we had to drive around with the windows rolled down all winter long, which Mark is weirdly impressed by.
A little while later Kat comes back out and finds us all piled into Eva’s room; we typically somehow all end up there whenever we don’t have any guests but today Mark’s privy to it too. Eva graciously shared her leftover soup with him, which he’s currently working on, just sort of hovering all around the bedroom. Kat comes in and plops down on her belly at the foot of Eva’s bed. Eva’s sitting at her desk but facing away from it and I’m sprawled across the rest of her bed.
“I’m going to California to see my sister at the end of the month,” Kat announces.
“I thought your sister is in DC?” Mark pipes up.
“She’s moving for school. So anyway, Eva, I’ll need a ride to and from the airport…”
“Are you not going to be here for my birthday?” Eva looks genuinely alarmed, offended almost.
“No, no, I will! I’m leaving a few days after. I won’t be here for mine though.”
“That’s lame,” Mark says. “Everyone should be present for their own birthday.”
“I’ll still be alive…”
“In California.”
“Yes.”
“That’s not where your birthday is.”
“Yeah, maybe we’ll still have your birthday party over here,” Eva laughs and so do I.
Before too long, we get on the topic of bad jokes and each one of us tries to remember the worst one we’ve ever heard, but they all actually end up being hilarious. I only vaguely remember how this one goes, but I still try:
“Okay, so a pastor, a raccoon and a judge walk into a bar—”
“Why is there a raccoon?” Mark asks.
“I don't know… Let me finish.”
“Yeah, let her finish, Mark Arm.”
“So a pastor, a raccoon and a judge walk into a bar. Or wait, maybe it’s a doctor actually…”
“Strong opening,” Eva says.
“No, wait. The doctor matters.”
“Does he?”
“I think so?”
“So is it a doctor or a judge?”
“I don't know…”
Mark is already smiling into his soup.
“Anyway,” I continue, “a pastor, a raccoon, and a doctor walk into a bar and the bartender says—”
I stop.
“What does he say?” Mark asks.
“I don't remember.”
“Excellent.”
“No, wait. He says, ‘We don’t serve raccoons here.’”
“Reasonable policy,” Kat notes.
“Then the raccoon says–” Another pause.
“Oh my God,” Eva groans.
“The raccoon says…something.”
“Incredible,” Mark chuckles.
“I swear it’s very funny when told correctly!”
“I’m beginning to doubt that.”
“No, seriously! Just give a sec, I’ll remember…”
“Lizzy,” Kat says, laughing now, “you've spent two minutes introducing characters.”
“I'm building suspense!”
“You're building a hostage situation,” Eva laughs too.
“Okay, listen. The raccoon says something, then the doctor… Or maybe the judge comes back—”
At that, Mark folds, nearly choking on his soup.
“The judge comes back?” Eva repeats.
“I think he left and returned…”
“Like a recurring character?” Kat asks through laughter.
“Exactly!” By now I'm laughing too hard to continue.
“Did you just make this up?” Eva asks.
“I don’t know, maybe…” I am seriously not sure at this point… I swear it went something like that but for the life of me, I cannot remember anything more…
Mark is halfway through his bowl of soup when he completely loses it, almost dropping his spoon, while Eva and Kat are laughing so hard, they might have stopped breathing. Just then, Gwen walks in to find Mark frozen with the spoon halfway to his mouth, soup actively dribbling down his chin, and Eva and Kat are collapsed against each other on the bed, tears running down Kat’s cheeks. Nobody, including me, is capable of explaining what happened.
Gwen slowly backs out of the room. “Good talk.”
* * *
The original plan, as far as I understand it, was for Jerry and Lizzy to play pool. Unfortunately, Lizzy appears physically incapable of organizing an event that involves fewer than eight people and Jerry goes along with anything she says at this point; I guess he's in his pussy whipped phase.
“Hi, Jerry,” I hear a voice I recognize as belonging to Kat, although I’ve never heard her sound this friendly. I look over and see her smiling at him, Gwen and Mark walking in behind her.
“Hey,” he mirrors the expression. Seems like she’s done being a bitch to him?
"Oh good," Kat says the second she spots me. "It's happening again."
"What is?"
She points between Jerry and Lizzy. "You and me getting tricked into attending somebody else's date."
"Hey!" Lizzy protests and I laugh. Yeah, I guess we do have that traumatic experience in common now.
A few games get played, people drift in and out. The whole thing expands the way these gatherings always do, accumulating friends and acquaintances until nobody remembers who was originally invited. Which is fine by me. The place isn't especially crowded, just busy enough to feel alive. The pool tables clack in the background, somebody keeps feeding quarters into the jukebox, beer flows at a pace that suggests most people have nowhere else to be. It's nice. Comfortable. The kind of evening that accidentally lasts five hours.
At some point somebody mentions roller derby; a minute later Kat turns her entire attention toward me after I make what I consider to be a perfectly normal observation: “Those girls are masculine as hell, wouldn’t want to be with one of them.”
“Masculine? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Masculine means masculine.”
“As in, wearing pants is masculine?” She scoffs at me.
“Have you ever been to a roller derby game?”
“Yes, have you?”
“Yeah,” I laugh out, really just amused by her apparent annoyance. “Like I said, those chicks are super buff and intimidating out on that—”
"So I just wanted to clarify something." The second she says it, Jerry starts smiling. He looks fully ready to throw me under the bus just to repair diplomatic relations with his girlfriend’s roommate; the traitor! "Is it okay for women to do masculine things or is that sort of a social faux pas? Do they get a warning first or do you go straight to revoking their woman card?"
"You can play roller derby, football or wrestle for all I care," I say. "You're probably not getting laid though. Not by a dude anyway."
Kat covers her face with both hands and for a second I think maybe she agrees with me. Then she looks back up. "So is it gay," she asks carefully, "to play the sort of more violent sports?"
I grin. "I mean, I've never met a straight chick who was into WWE."
"But men are into it because they're naturally more violent and rough?"
"Generally, yeah."
She rearranges her face into a smile that doesn't look real, like one of those mannequins in department store windows. "Interesting."
"What?"
"I'm just trying to understand."
"Understand what?"
"The rules."
"What rules?"
"The woman rules."
Jerry makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like choking. I point at him. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing at all," he says immediately.
"Look," I continue, "I was just saying what I think. Excuse me for having a personal opinion."
"Sexist."
"What?"
"It's pronounced sexist opinion."
I stare at her. "Sexist? That's just how you interpreted what I said. That's not what I actually said at all."
"Ah." She nods, then takes a sip of her beer. Something about that worries me. "You're one of those really dumb people, aren't you?"
"What the fuck?"
"There it is," Jerry mutters.
"Don't be rude."
"Rude?" she asks. "I really wasn't."
"You absolutely were."
She shrugs. "That's just how you interpreted what I said. I was making an observation and you're taking it as an insult, I guess."
Jerry is trying very hard not to laugh. Across the table Gwen looks vaguely pleased, which is honestly worse.
“Why are you all acting like I committed a crime?” I ask.
“Because you keep saying things that sound bad and then act surprised when people think they sound bad,” Jerry says.
“That is not what happened.”
“That’s exactly what happened,” Gwen throws me a smug smile.
A little while later Lizzy finally remembers she'd originally invited Jerry here to play pool and whisks him away. I head to the bar and grab another beer instead and by the time I get back, the seating arrangement around our table has completely reorganized itself: a handful of chairs have appeared from seemingly nowhere and been scattered around at random angles. Gwen is mostly occupied talking to a couple of girls I don't recognize who must've shown up while I was gone. Mark is technically sitting with us but has turned his chair completely backwards so he can talk to the people at the next table over. I sit down across from Kat.
The conversation bounces through three completely unrelated topics before somehow arriving at relationships. Then girlfriends. Then guys hitting on girlfriends. Then whatever sociology lecture Gwen decides we're all attending.
“Unfortunately, women often aren’t autonomous beings so saying ‘no thanks’ is not enough,” she explains in a bored monotone.
“Tell me about it,” one of her friends sighs.
“Sure it’s enough,” I laugh out. “You say ‘no, thanks’ and move on.”
“Sean, I’m sure you’re smarter than that,” Gwen pins me with her gaze.
“Sean, how many times have you heard a woman say I can’t, I have a boyfriend,” Kat whines in an oddly convincing valley girl impression.
“And sometimes even that won’t help, you need an actual man to be there playing the role of the boyfriend,” Gwen continues.
“Personally, in return for all the food, I would expect Mark here,” Kat says with a quick wave of hand toward the guy and he looks over at us while still leaning away, a mildly curious expression on his face, “to step in and pretend to be the said boyfriend and assert ownership over my person because men are born into some sort of bro code of mutual respect, I guess, whereas women are more so just their bodies, and their bodies are simply a hot fuckin’ commodity,” she spits it all out so quickly, I’m impressed she didn’t pass out at the end from restricted oxygen flow.
“Why Mark?” I ask. “He could have ulterior motives too. Or what's wrong with him?”
A tickled snort erupts from her. “Mark? No. Mark is…” She gestures vaguely. “To him, I’m not even a woman. You know what I mean?” She stammers out, at which Mark’s face plunges into an endlessly amused smile as he looks at her as if he’d never seen her before, his hand holding a bottle of beer hovering mid-air.
“What do you mean, Novak?” He asks, now turning the rest of his body towards us.
“Yeah,” I say. “I'm not sure I know what you mean either.”
“Oh you know what I mean, Arm,” she insists. “To Mark, I’m more of a hand towel. Or an abstract source of food.”
“Ah,” Mark nods slowly, dropping his eyes to the table. “I have exercised ownership over hand towels and the occasional bite of food before.”
The whole table laughs, except for Kat. She just looks vaguely annoyed, which makes it even funnier. I have a feeling there’s probably many more layers to whatever she just said. Or…I don’t know… Maybe the hand towel thing is exactly what she meant. Maybe Mark genuinely does view her as a reusable household object. Honestly, I don't know these people well enough to rule anything out.
The conversation dissolves into smaller ones after that. Somebody gets up for another drink. Somebody starts arguing about baseball. Mark gets pulled back into whatever discussion he was having with the people at the next table. The song playing over the bar speakers changes and a second later I notice Kat mouthing along to the lyrics. Not loudly, not even consciously, I don't think. That’s kind of unexpected. “You know this song?”
She glances over. “Obviously.”
“Bob Seger?”
“Yeah?”
“Most people our age don’t listen to Bob Seger.”
“Most people our age are wrong.”
I point at her. “See? Now that’s a take I can respect.”
“Finally,” Gwen laughs. “A bridge between nations.”
“I'm not saying you’re right about everything.”
“Of course not,” Kat says. “That would be ridiculous.”
“Just Bob Seger.”
“Just Bob Seger. And just to clarify, I am allowed to listen to him, right?”
“Huh?”
“You know, since I’m a woman…”
“Oh fuck off.”
"Sean, just out of curiosity…"
"What?"
"Do you think women emerge from the ground fully formed at age twenty-three?"
"What?"
"I'm trying to figure out where these assumptions come from…" Kat chuckles at her own dumb joke.
“You just don’t look like somebody who listens to Bob Seger.”
“Ah so it’s no longer about genders... Who do I look like I listen to?”
“I don't know. Men named Adrian making experimental whale noises.”
This earns a loud, tickled laugh from Kat. “I’m not sure if you meant that as an insult but I also think I don’t seem like someone who’d listen to Seger. Or Springsteen. Or Tom Petty,” she shrugs.
“Springsteen too?”
“Of course Springsteen.” As she says this, she shoots a quick look at Mark, her eyebrows raised high, and I see him pull a face at her before turning back away.
“Okay, now we’re talking.”
“Don’t get too excited. I have some controversial takes. Nebraska is his best record and nobody wants to admit it.”
“Totally,” I grin. “Everybody always talks about Born to Run.”
Seems like everyone else moves on to conversations they find more entertaining, which is exactly why Kat’s music tastes seem so unexpected – this is generally not the crowd for discussing Springsteen and Seger.
“What else?” I ask.
“What else what?”
“Your secret collection of normal music.”
“I don’t have a secret collection of normal music.”
“I mean, kinda seems like you do.”
She thinks about it. “Creedence.”
“Good.”
“The Band.”
“Good.”
“Fleetwood Mac.”
“Everybody likes Fleetwood Mac.”
“Not Mark.”
Across the table Mark looks up at the sound of his name.
“Fleetwood Mac,” Kat repeats.
“I don't trust bands where everybody is angry at each other.”
“You listen to hardcore punk…”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“They’re angry professionally,” he says before shuffling his attention away.
“I meant all chicks listen to Fleetwood Mac.”
“We just spent thirty minutes establishing that your understanding of women is not evidence-based. I’d town down the confidence if I were you,” she smirks at me, spinning her beer bottle on its edge.
“And yet you can’t stop talking to me despite claiming you think I’m an idiot.”
“I’m conducting research. It’s fascinating.”
“Sure. What about Neil Young?”
“What about him?”
“Favorite song.”
She answers immediately. “Powderfinger.”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“That’s the correct answer.”
“Oh, I know.” I don’t think we’ve agreed on a single thing all night, until now, which is weirdly attractive. She’s funny too, in a slightly unhinged kind of way.
* * *
“Oh good, everyone’s on time,” I glance over our basement space filled with guitars, drums, amps, tangled cables, and various unidentified pieces of equipment as I walk in. “Shocking, actually. Concerning even…” My eyes slide over from Mark, sunken into the shitty little couch like a grampa getting ready for a good nap, to Dan, already sitting behind his drum kit, to Matt who’s messing with our boombox, hopefully not breaking it.
“You’re late Steve,” Mark says without lifting his eyes from the magazine in his lap.
“You’re saying that…as a bad thing?”
“Why even have a rehearsal space if we’re not gonna use it…on time…”
“What got your panties in a twist?” I ask while shrugging the guitar case off my shoulder and kicking my skateboard into the corner. He doesn’t answer so I step over and snatch the magazine from him. “Ah. I see.”
“What?” Dan looks up from behind his kit and starts softly drumming out a rhythm.
“Kat’s Soundgarden review is out, it seems.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? What the fuck, Mark? Read it!”
“Glady,” I say, slumping down on the couch way heavier than I need to, giving Mark a minor whiplash.
“Again, shouldn’t we be doing band stuff in here?”
I ignore his question and launch into the article: “Soundgarden have an idea of something they can do with a Gun and that’s starting their set with the subterranean growl of Kim Thayil and Chris Cornell’s guitars that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand. The quartet groans into motion—”
“Okay, is it just me or is this already unnecessarily sexual?” Mark cuts me off.
“That’s exactly what a Soundgarden show feels like though,” Matt points out.
“Really? Subterranean growl?”
I choose to ignore Mark again and continue reading instead. “The quartet groans into motion, picking up speed like a locomotive from hell, with Matt Cameron leading on drums and – a brand new addition – Jason Everman on bass. The menacing drawl of it all instantly puts the crowd under a trance, a spell like no other Seattle band is capable of…”
“Now that’s just plain rude,” Mark pipes up again.
“Chris Cornell’s voice comes in commanding and hypnotic…”
“Really??”
“Will you shut the fuck up? Where was I… Ah, right. Chris Cornell’s voice comes in commanding and hypnotic, demanding your attention from the very beginning, and the crowd obeys. There are singers with greater discipline and singers with greater restraint–”
“I’ll say.”
“Mark, have you considered,” I ask, “that maybe you're not an unbiased commentator?”
“I'm extremely unbiased.”
“Sure... There are few with greater presence. His voice shifts effortlessly from a low, smoky murmur to a full-throated wail that seems capable of rattling bolts loose from the ceiling. At times he’s wrestling the songs into submission; at others, surrendering to them completely…”
“I’m sorry but this is pure fiction.”
“Shut up!” Both me and Dan say at the same time. When I look up at Mark, his face looks like somebody just informed him his car’s been stolen. Which, admittedly, is pretty entertaining to watch. Getting him this riled up is no small feat.
“What kind of a wasp flew up your fuckin’ ass anyway?” Lukin questions while making his way towards the mini cooler.
“He has the hots for Novak,” I tell him.
“Duh. Why’s he mad at the fuckin’ article though?”
“Kat dated Chris Cornell.”
“Really?”
I stare at him. “Matt.”
“What?”
“You knew this,” I laugh out while Mark is scowling at me like what I’m saying is not objectively true.
“I did? Oh yeah, I guess I did… Yeah, this piece does read pretty sexual actually. She’s definitely thought about Chris long and hard.”
“What the fuck…” Mark mumbles.
“His chanting grows more keening by the line,” I start reading again,“liquefying and stretching over the stormy ocean of the instruments…”
“What a foul piece of press.”
“Really? I think it’s actually really good,” I tell Mark.
“I mean, it’s an excellent piece of writing but wildly inaccurate.”
“Right, right… Okay…” My eyes are running down the lines on the page, now purposefully looking for any explicit mentions of ‘Cornell’. “If Gun was a message from the depths of hell then the next song – I Awake – is an exorcism… We can skip ahead here… Thayil’s every solo feels less like a display of impressive technical ability and more like a controlled demolition, reducing whatever came before it to rubble and rebuilding something stranger and more wicked in its place…”
“I don’t know if I want her to ever write about me,” Matt chortles.
“You do, it would be the best PR of your entire life.”
“I don’t know if I could handle this level of dissection by our Ginger Snap… Well?” He widens his eyes at me after a pause. “Is the article over? Keep reading!”
“Jason Everman enters the role of bassist with the unenviable task of following Hiro Yamamoto, and to his credit, he approaches it with confidence rather than imitation. His energy is immediate, impatient even, bringing a fresh urgency to the material while respecting the foundation that was already there. Yet Hiro Yamamoto's absence lingers throughout the evening–”
“You can skip ahead there, she spent way too many words fawning over what a genius Hiro is.”
“How many times have you read this?” I ask while scanning the next paragraph with my eyes
“I've literally heard you refer to Hiro as a musical genius,” Dan points a drumstick at Mark.
“And?” Mark contorts his face into a momentary expression of dismissal.
“I also seem to remember you being pretty impressed with Chris the first time you saw him on stage. Of course, it was so long ago now, maybe I totally made it up,” I smirk at Mark who's putting on his best impression of nonchalance now. “Alrighty…” I click my tongue a couple of times as I look at the page again. “Ah… The changed lineup has not dulled Soundgarden's peculiar intensity: Cameron continues to steer the storm from behind the kit, Thayil twisting riffs into shapes that ought not exist, while Cornell still seems never to have questioned the decision to leave half his wardrobe at home.”
“Nice, I like that part. That's true journalism.”
“‘Course you do… With music like tar and lead vocals like honey, Soundgarden remains one of the most compelling live acts in the Pacific Northwest.” I lower the paper. “Music like tar and lead vocals like honey.That’s really fucking good.”
“It is,” Dan agrees.
“You know what's weird?” Mark speaks up unnecessarily loudly. “Nobody's talking about the real scoop here.”
“Which is?”
“She spent an entire paragraph describing Cornell like some kind of a cryptid.”
“A cryptid?”
“Commanding. Hypnotic. Menacing. Lives in the woods. Appears at dusk.”
* * *
When I arrive, it seems like the game has already dissolved into the usual chaos. Somebody's arguing about a foul, somebody else is arguing about the argument. The chain-link fence rattles every few minutes when a missed shot finds it. A portable radio is playing somewhere nearby, competing unsuccessfully with the chatter, laughter, and the occasional yelps. The sun’s already started its slow descent, taking with it a few degrees of warmth each minute. My eyes find Andy and Xana on the other side of the court, out on the grass, having a picnic by the looks of it.
I also spot Kat almost immediately. She's stretched across the bottom row of the bleachers like she's been abandoned there by a previous civilization. One arm hangs over the edge, her Walkman rests on her stomach, headphones cover her ears, eyes closed. Completely detached from whatever is happening on the court. For a second I honestly can't tell if she's asleep. Or dead. Comfortably dead.
I find myself smiling - a month ago I would've kept walking. Now I feel like I get some kind of a pass, even if it's temporary. Not because we solved anything; we didn't, but we talked and nobody got angry, nobody ran away, nobody pretended the other person didn't exist. It’s progress. Tiny, ridiculous, unexpected progress.
I watch her for another second. Maybe she's not in the mood. Maybe she is? Only one way to find out. Besides, if she tells me to go away, I know she can make it funny. I walk up to the bleachers, casting my shadow on her, and her eyelids flinch open.
“Oh, it’s you…” She pulls her headphones off.
“Hi,” I look down at her, my hands stuffed deep in the pockets of my shorts.
“Hi,” she props herself up on her elbows.
“Can I sit here?”
“Why?”
That gets a chuckle out of me. “So I can ask you how you’re doing, something like that.”
“You can ask while standing.” Pause. “Sorry. Bad joke. Force of habit.”
“No, you’re right,” I say, “that is a skill I possess. So, how are you?”
“I am. How are you?” Kat sounds a little cold but I’m guessing it’s just because she hasn’t calibrated yet. I don’t think I haven’t either but this space we’re in now is a lot softer than anything since March.
“Better now that I’ve confirmed you’re not dead. Could easily be mistaken from afar.”
“Would be a good day to die,” she squints up at me.
“Yeah, you looked very deceased but peaceful. Should I call someone or just let you rest?”
“Let me rest. I don’t want paramedics ruining the vibe.”
I huff a quiet laugh, then finally sit down on the bench by her legs without waiting for permission. She drops her feet down and sits up.
“What happened to talking while standing?”
I examine her face for a moment; there’s no sharpness in her eyes, only her words, which I take to mean she’s just teasing. “You were clearly bluffing. Also, you didn’t protest.”
“I’m weak. Probably got sunstroked.”
“Right.” There’s a short, comfortable pause. Jeff yells a very heartfelt ‘fuck’ from the court, a ball thuds. “So the days of you mentally drafting my obituary every time you see me are gone then?”
“Officially,” she says with a barely-there smile. “I do that to a lot of people though, don’t take it too personally.”
“Good to know.”
“Somebody spilled beer all over me and Stone is your biggest fan, that’s why I was wearing that shirt.”
Her explanation is so unnecessary but delivered so seriously, I barely stop myself from bursting out laughing. “I figured some cosmically tragic event had to have happened,” I assure her. “By the way, I liked your review. Or article… Didn’t feel like there was enough scrutiny for it to be a review.”
“That’s good. I have no interest in becoming another pretentious music journalist who tries to poke holes in people’s performances who are infinitely more capable than me.”
“Well, good job. Kim was raving about it for a couple of days, actually. That's really high praise, considering he's probably Seattle’s most literate musician.”
“I remember you to be pretty literate too.” There’s a gusty breeze that blows a strand of hair across her face occasionally and each time she removes it with the patience of someone who’s given up.
“We did both agree on superiority of your imagery to the usual technical descriptions and gear lists that people typically write about. Maybe that's the literacy talking.” It's true, I liked her piece a lot. It read like what it feels like, not how things sound or look. “You're a really good writer.”
“Oh, you know…I like to…spell things correctly…”
“Right.” I see acceptance of a compliment and a simple ‘thank you’ still hasn’t made it into her repertoire.
The wind blows hair into her face again and this time she sighs in recognition of it happening. “This is why I shouldn't be outdoors.”
“We're at an urban park, that's a little dramatic.”
“You think Kafka hung out at urban parks? I'm losing.”
“To the atmosphere?”
“To the elements, Chris.”
I bark out a laugh and reach over before really thinking about it and pull the headphones from around her neck. I can tell she stiffens up ever so slightly and watches me with a smile that’s equal parts confusion and curiosity. I settle the headphones on top of her head but off her ears. The headband effect isn't exactly fashionable but it does keep most of her hair back. She blinks at me, then starts laughing.
“Thanks mom. Do I look stupid?” She touches her fingers to her new hairdo.
“Very.”
“Great.”
“But significantly less windswept.”
My eyes register movement some fifteen feet behind her - it's Eva and Mark. Eva says something to him, then shrugs when he changes course; she goes for the parking lot and he starts making his way towards us, looking like a man attempting to act natural while carrying a lit firework in his pocket.
“Hi,” I look up at him when he stops in front of the bench we're sitting on.
“Howdy,” he says; he's got his trademark grin on.
“Is the game over?” Kat sounds somewhat hopeful.
“No.” Pause; not exactly an uncomfortable one but there’s something there, hanging in the air. Then: “Novak, you cold?”
“Not particularly…” She peers at him, eyebrows curved in mild confusion, as if there’s something in his face that she keeps reading and not quite getting.
“So the goosebumps are a stylistic choice?” He takes his denim jacket off and drapes it over her shoulders without waiting for an answer.
I glance between them: Kat looks vaguely confused by the entire exchange; Mark looks pleased with himself. Interesting.
The jacket settles around her shoulders. "Thank you?" she says.
I've always found him interesting. Half the time he seems incapable of taking anything seriously, the other half he'll get into an argument with Kim about anthropology of punk songwriting and suddenly sound like the most thoughtful person in the room. It's a strange combination. Hard to tell where the joke ends and the real opinion begins.
What's not especially hard to read right now is whatever he's doing with Kat. I don't know if she's genuinely oblivious to it or if she's choosing to be. With Kat, both feel equally plausible.
I wonder what she's told him about me. For all I know, she never mentioned any of it, just informed him one day that I won’t be coming over anymore. Or maybe she told him everything, including the spectacular collapse involving Gwen. Hard to say. Kat has always been difficult to decipher, in some ways.
“So I'm assuming you read Kat’s debut article?” I address Mark who remains standing, towering over us.
"About your band?"
"Same one."
“Yeah.” Mark scratches his jaw. "It raised some concerns."
"Concerns?” Kat looks at him like she knows this is about to turn into a circus act.
“Yeah…” Mark’s looking directly at me instead. "Is this inability to get dressed a cognitive issue or…"
Kat laughs, I do too.
“The article is full of these little traps, actually."
“Traps?" Kat looks at him.
“Yeah."
“You mean observations?"
“I mean things that sound complimentary until you actually think about them."
Kat's grin widens. "Oh, like locomotive from hell?"
“Possibly."
“I liked that one." I say.
"Of course you did. You probably also liked commanding and hypnotic."
“Those are compliments," Kat argues half-heartedly while I find it interesting that Mark seems to have memorized excerpts of her writing.
“The crowd obeys."
“They did."
“You know, actually, some of what you wrote does sound sort of…adverse,” I say, just to tease her.
“Whose side are you on?”
“I don't think there are sides.”
“There are always sides,” Mark says.
“That's a deeply unhealthy worldview,” I say.
“Thank you.”
“That wasn't a compliment.”
“I'll take what I can get,” Mark says, making me and Kat laugh. “Nobody else was concerned by any of this? Really?”
“Mark…” Kat is grinning ear-to-ear when she says his name and he looks at her like this is exactly where he wants to be.
“Well, that’s the problem.”
“What is?”
“The problem is,” he looks back at me now, “that she writes well enough to make all of this sound reasonable.” Kat’s actually blushing and Mark’s eyes keep returning and clinging to her laughing face.
"I went in expecting a concert review."
"And?"
"I came out convinced Chris Cornell lives in a cave and occasionally emerges to scream at the moon."
I laugh so hard I have to look away. When I turn back, I catch Kat nudging Mark’s foot with the toe of her shoe and he grins down at her. There it is again. Small, tiny thing. But I've seen enough people fall in love to recognize the symptoms.
And Kat… The funny thing is that Kat's probably one of the least flirtatious people I've ever met. Not because she's incapable of it, but because she rarely seems aware she's doing it. She doesn't turn on the charm or go looking for attention. She just gets interested. Then suddenly you're the center of her universe for twenty minutes and she's somehow shocked when people take it personally.
Poor bastard. Kat is many things but easy is not one of them.
"Well," I say, pushing myself to my feet, "I'll leave you two to continue whatever this is."
"What is this?" Kat asks immediately.
"Great question."
As I walk away, I swear I hear Mark say ‘what happened to making out with his car and keying Kim?’
* * *
“That’s still not off the table,” I assure Mark as I slip my arms through the sleeves of his jacket and put my hands in the pockets. I'm really not a fan of how unreasonably giddy it makes me feel that he put his jacket on me. “But at this point, purely for the thrill.” I take the headphones all the way off my head since the weight of denim tugged on the cord uncomfortably.
“So.” He starts and then his breath catches before any more words come out.
“So?”
He just stares at me for a moment, then his gaze drops to the jacket momentarily, presumably, before his eyes find mine again.
“You want the jacket back?”
“No, no.”
“Okay, you’re being weird,” I say slowly.
“I’m not being weird.”
“You’re hovering.”
“I walked up to you.”
“You hovered over to me.”
He opens his mouth and–
“Hey, Mark,” Steve cuts in, jogging over and grabbing the fence next to us. “I need the van keys.”
“I don’t have them.”
“I thought you had them?”
“Nope.”
“So who has them?”
“I thought you did…”
“No. You sure you don’t have them?”
“Get lost Steve,” Mark waves his friend off.
“You guys are talking?” He remains rooted to the spot.
“I guess?” I shrug.
Steve looks at me, sort of squinting, then at Mark, then back at me. “Is it important?” That’s kind of an odd question…
“To be determined…”
“Well, carry on,” Steve pats Mark on the shoulder and jogs away.
“Is he always that weird or am I just extra sensitive today?”
Mark lets out a tickled laugh. “I ask myself that every day… Look, Novak, I’m—”
“Kat,” Lizzy calls, speed walking towards us with two bottles of water. “Have you seen Jerry, he said he’d—oh, hi.”
“Did you really not see me somehow?” Mark stares at her with a baffled grin and Lizzy just shrugs.
“He’s over there.” I nod vaguely toward the other side of the court.
Lizzy follows the direction, then looks back at us, smiling in that way she does when she has something more to say but isn’t actually going to say it.
“Sorry,” she says. “Interrupting.”
“Oh, we’re just…chatting…” I start to tell her but she’s already off. “What is happening? What is this Twilight Zone episode?” I look up at Mark with an amused smile but there’s something apprehensive in the way that he looks back.
“So as I was saying, I’m mo–”
“Oi, Mark,” Stone calls, ambling over. “Why are you standing around looking tortured?”
“Kindly, fuck off Stone,” Mark laughs out.
“Did I see you at our show the other day?”
“I mixed up the venues.”
“Wow. Mark Arm coming to see Mother Love Bone play, will you look at that,” Stone grins gleefully.
“Less kindly now, fuck off. We’re busy.”
“Busy with what?”
“Talking, I guess,” I tell him.
“Ah, talking,” Stone wiggles his eyebrows looking between the two of us. “Well anyway, make sure to include that in your next write-up, Kat. The Mark Arm came out to see MLB.”
“Will do,” I promise as he turns to leave. “Did you actually? Go to their show?” I grin at Mark.
“I did… And I did actually accidentally go to the wrong place but I stayed for a couple of songs. The show was good, from what I saw. The outfits were fuckin’ dumb though. Now,” he slows down on the last word after saying everything else in one breath. “I was–”
“You were going to say something?” I can’t stop myself, he’s already mildly irritated and it’s just too easy and too tempting.
“Novak, I’m moving out.”
For a second I just stare at him as my brain processes the words. He…what? “Moving out?”
“Yeah… Found a place,” he shrugs like it’s nothing. “Well actually it found me. It’s cheaper. It’s not far, just a few blocks away. Just–yeah. Inaccessible by skylight.”
Somehow I'd never considered the possibility of Mark not living across the hall. Which is ridiculous, obviously he wasn't going to live across the hall forever. People get different apartments and different jobs and different lives all the time, that’s normal. Still.
“When?”
“After the summer.”
I nod once. “Right.” The word comes out flatter than I mean it to. Mark doesn't say anything, he just keeps looking at me, just sort of watching.
So he’s not moving out immediately, not next week. Months away, technically; about two and a half. And yet the thought immediately leaves a weird hollow feeling somewhere beneath my ribs.
“Anything beyond ‘right’ or..?”
That catches me off guard so I just stare at him.
“Say something else,” he says.
I blink. “What?”
“Something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don't know. Anything.” His tone is light but there's something underneath it that makes me look at him properly.
“Congratulations on your financial responsibility?”
“That's trash.”
“I know.”
“This is a disturbingly well-adjusted response.”
“Sorry,” I say. “Should I cry in a park?”
“I didn't say cry.”
“You implied crying.”
“I implied mild emotional devastation.”
I shake my head. I don't know what he wants from me. I don't know what I want from me. Rationally, this isn't a big deal at all. But somehow that doesn't seem to be the point. And Mark keeps looking at me like there's a correct answer hidden somewhere in this conversation and I haven't found it yet.
“You're abandoning the geeks.”
That finally gets a grin out of him. “The geeks will survive.”
“You don't know that.”
My brain keeps getting stuck on stupid details: Mark showing up halfway through dinner and stealing food off somebody's plate. Mark appearing in the apartment three seconds after somebody says his name. Mark climbing through my skylight. Mark teasing Lizzy for sport. Mark and Gwen arguing about politics as a form of affection. Mark coming to our place before his own apartment to look for Lukin. They're all small things and I really don’t mean to dramatize it so much but… It's not just Mark moving either. It's the shape of everything around him changing too - the other guys won’t be there either. That constant stream of people wandering through the apartment at all hours… God, why am I so… It’s not a big deal!
In the meantime, Mark's still looking at me, patiently, like he's still waiting for an answer to a question he hasn't actually asked. Which makes this feel even more like a big deal.
A few seconds pass. Then a few more. Somehow he's still waiting. Finally he exhales through his nose. “Well,” he says. “This is encouraging.”
“What is?”
“The lack of visible symptoms.”
“Symptoms of what?”
“Separation anxiety. I'd hate for my relocation to permanently damage your already fragile mental state.”
“My mental state is fine.”
“That's not what I've heard.”
“From who?”
“Mostly you.”
I let out a laugh that feels both amused and annoyed and Mark apparently finally gives up on whatever response he was waiting for and drops onto the bleacher beside me.
* * *
“It’s a ten minute walk,” I lean back against the bleacher. “So ‘moving out’ might actually be somewhat too strong of a phrase.”
I actually went to see the apartment the other day; the couple that live there now have all the walls covered in tie dye scarves but it looked decent otherwise. It’s about the same size, one bedroom, there’s nothing that noteworthy about it other than that it’s cheaper. Same neighborhood, slightly different view out the window, that’s about it.
“Oh my god, you’ll starve to death,” Kat has her eyes darted to the ground as she voices a thought that I’m sure just popped into her head. Finally, something that sounds like her.
“We'll have to make arrangements.”
“Arrangements?” She repeats.
“Yeah.”
For a second neither of us says anything. She's still wearing my jacket, which is pretty cool, now that I think about it. But more importantly, she looks disgruntled, like I’ve just ruined her mood. Which is significantly better than looking indifferent.
“You'll forget,” she says eventually.
“I won't.”
“You will. You'll get busy. New apartment. New life.”
“My new life will be exactly the same, just ten minutes Northwest of my old life.”
“Mm.” She makes a noncommittal noise.
I study her profile for a moment. “We’ll make plans. We’ll pencil each other in, as they say.”
“Don’t say pencil. That makes it worse.”
“We’ll send telegrams.”
“Perfect,” she chuckles.
I don't know why I cared so much about telling her. Other than Gwen’s mind games… Actually, that's a lie. I know exactly why, I just haven't come up with an explanation that makes me sound less pathetic.
“Yeah. ‘Novak STOP meet me at the usual STOP bring food STOP’.”
Footsteps crunch against the gravel behind us and I don't have to look to know one set is Steve, the other is either Stone or a small horse. “Back so soon,” I eye them both, already weary of whatever the reason is for their presence.
“Jesus,” Steve says. “Are you two negotiating a treaty?” He steps up, between me and Kat, and takes a seat on the bench above.
Stone follows more slowly, opening a bag of chips as he speaks. “Sounds serious.”
“We're planning our future,” I tell them.
Kat groans. Steve points between us. “Good. I was worried.”
“About what?” Kat peers at him.
“Mark moving out and losing access to his primary hobby.”
I squint at him.
“Getting on Kat's nerves.”
Kat snorts.
“Although,” Steve says, grabbing a handful of chips from Stone. “He seems committed to the project.”
“You say it like it’s one sided,” I steal a glance at Kat as I say this.
“That's the shocking part. Most people won't voluntarily schedule a second interaction with you, let alone stick around for long-term irritation. Actually,” Steve's eyes drift over Kat for a long second, then back to me. “Maybe we're past casual irritation already.”
“Steve.”
“I'm just observing.”
“It’s unsettling when you do it.”
“You're right.” He nods toward Kat. “Could be completely innocent.”
Kat looks up at him, eyebrows knitting together in mild confusion, then glances down at herself, at the jacket, then at me.
Stone immediately lights up. “Wait. Is that yours?”
“You want one too?”
“Not particularly."
“Good. Because this is how rumors start and people are already wondering about you.”
Kat lets out a tickled laugh. There it is again, that stupid little hit of satisfaction I get every time I manage to have that effect on her.
“So how’s the planning of future going? Anyone cry yet?” Steve asks us but he’s smirking specifically at me.
“Penciling things in has been mentioned, which is reason enough to cry,” Kat answers in hilariously flat monotone.
“Huh. Actually,” Steve says, “penciling and scheduling could actually solve the problem.”
“What?..” Kat gives him the kind of look that tells me she already doesn’t trust where he’s going with that.
“Make it official.”
“Make what official?”
“Yeah, just for a week at first,” Stone adds.
“A trial run,” Steve nods.
“Like a free sample,” Stone says.
“Of?” Kat keeps looking between them with the enthusiasm of a horse being led into the slaughterhouse.
“Dating.”
Kat stares at Stone; he shrugs. “Low commitment.”
“You two are idiots.”
“We're innovators,” Steve corrects and I don’t necessarily disagree. I mean, better them than me making these brain-dead jokes to test the waters. Especially since I’m already seeing a big problem arising - living next door to Kat carried with it the miserable hope that with time, she might catch on, clued in by my general unshakeable presence. Living somewhere else means I might actually have to communicate like a normal person. Which feels unfair. I've spent years carefully developing a personality that allows me to avoid that.
“Didn't you two win that couples quiz?” Stone cackles.
“You can’t win a couples quiz,” Kat rolls her eyes at him and reaches for a handful of potato chips.
“Yeah but didn’t you get, like, all of the answers right?”
“No.”
“Only most of them.” I tell him with a big grin, ignoring Kat’s half-hearted answer.
“The questions were obvious.” She insists.
“That's not helping your case,” Steve says.
“I don't have a case.”
“You do now. You know weirdly specific things about each other.”
“That’s just because Mark basically lives in my kitchen. Everybody knows weirdly specific things about everybody.”
“Not true,” Stone says. “I don't know Steve's middle name.”
“That's because I don't tell people.”
“Exactly. Mystery. Boundaries.”
“I do frequent your kitchen but I also pay attention,” I try not to sound too…I don’t know, serious?
To Mark, I'm not even a woman. One of the dumbest things I've ever heard anybody say, which is impressive considering I've known Stone and Jeff for years. Does she actually believe that? Because that's a deeply concerning conclusion to arrive at. Not morally concerning, just logic-wise. Like concluding that raccoons are a type of fish. I don't know how you'd even begin to get there.
“Why are you helping them?”
“Why not?” Is this really something she hasn’t considered? Is it me? Is it the lack of long black hair and a sixpack?
Does she not realize that I like her or is she deliberately ignoring it? Sure, she's never exactly caught me staring at her legs or carving our initials into park benches, but I don't think I've been very subtle. Not by choice, not voluntarily, but still. I mean, I've already been cornered about it by Steve and Gwen, for fuck's sake.
Maybe I'm giving Kat too much credit? Or maybe I'm giving myself too much.
“Relax, Novak. I’m not proposing.” She rolls her eyes. “Little early for that,” I add. “Need at least a week of scheduled hangouts first.”
“Well. Keep us updated about the progress of your arrangements,” Steve nudges the back of my head.
“Get fucked.”
Stone cackles. “That's usually step two.”
“That's a remarkably confident statement from a virgin,” Kat doesn’t miss a fuckin’ beat, making Steve and me wheeze.
A moment later, when the laughter dies out and Stone changes the topic to something Steve feels very passionately about, I nudge her foot with mine. “Telegrams,” I say under my breath.
I loved this chapter (and these few latest chapters actually) for how they cleverly set all things in motion and I can't wait for the motion to bring in all the goods and I know it's gonna happen in the next one or in the following ones.
Kat is gonna go to see Soundgarden for her article and she'll meet Chris again and what's gonna happen? And will Mark know? And will he be there too maybe? And will he be a support or misinterpret things? And when will he tell Kat about his thoughts of moving out? And how will she react? And will Jeff finally ask Eva out? And will Lizzy and Jerry finally start to get to know each other now that the ex is not in the way anymore and they have no more excuses?
As you can tell, I'm kind of eager to see where all the storylines are going and it's nice to have something new to read in this godforsaken fandom and it's so great that it's your story ❤️
thank you 💛 i've gotten a boost of energy/inspiration for writing this lately so hopefully it lasts long enough 👀
41. poor technique: how to argue with someone you might actually like
PREVIOUSLY: Steve corners Mark at the grocery store, dragging his crush on Kat out into the open; Lizzy finally calls Jerry after deciding to give him a second chance; Kat, still furious at Jerry for betraying Lizzy, avoids him by hiding out on the roof, which turns into an evening at Mark’s where he makes her mac and cheese and engages in conversation reminiscent of their phone calls, while she’s trying to ignore how much she’s grown to like him; and as a thunderstorm rolls in, Gwen gleefully stirs the pot, pushing Kat toward a blind date and baiting Mark for a reaction before trapping everyone in a chaotic couples quiz game that ends up revealing more than anyone (casual or not) really meant to share.
The storm seems to finally have moved on from Seattle. As I step outside, a stray gust of wind catches my denim jacket, tugging it open, but I don’t bother fixing it. These early June days have arrived with the perfect kind of warmth - just enough to settle into your skin and stay there.
I’m about to be picked up by my new employer, I guess. Technically. She’s a magazine editor that Stone introduced me to and it’s really not so much an employment situation as it is a fortuitous circumstance – she needed to fill a freshly empty spot in her team, I could use to spend a little less time at the thrift store and a little more doing something with some more prospects, loosely speaking. So she’s taking me to a bar on the other end of town that hosts an open mic every Sunday night and I’ll have to write a little piece about it. Microscopic, really. Also, she’s participating in the aforementioned open mic so that feels a little bit like a test or a trap… I think it’ll be good though. I only spoke to her on the phone and she sounded very unpretentious, which is always a big plus in my book.
“Novak.”
I almost flinch at the sound of Mark’s voice unexpectedly interrupting my thoughts.
“Arm,” I nod slightly as I spot him walking towards me, a dirty green car taking off behind him. I think that looks like Buzz Osborne in the passenger seat…
As Mark shuffles over to me and I get a stupid urge to reach out and take his hand, which I of course don’t. I also want to punch him a little bit… “Novak, ha—”
“See, you do say my name a lot.”
“Have you been avoiding me?” No fluff, all accusations, huh?
“What? No,” I snort.
“You told me you were busy yesterday and then proceeded to play guitar in your room for the next hour.”
I shrug because what else is there to do. “The logic seems to be all there…” I just didn’t feel like hanging out.
I woke up yesterday with my hand curled around nothing and a thin cloud of confusion over my head; I had one of those dreams that doesn’t feel like a dream at all while you’re in it. Too quiet, too slow, not weird enough to question. One of those dreams that feel like happiness, like everything is…just good somehow. Surely, it was fueled by Gwen’s stupid quiz from the night before. And probably the fact that I kept thinking about Mark as I was falling asleep. I mean, you act like you’re low maintenance but you’re not? What the fuck does that mean? How dare he say that so casually, like I haven’t carefully and intentionally tucked it deep down inside, away from prying eyes. And did he mean that as a bad thing?.. It didn’t sound like he did. But it also didn’t really sound like he didn’t… The power came back on immediately after he said that and we all moved on, which was both a blessing and a curse.
And what about the whole you don’t think I take things seriously comment, also spoken so nonchalantly?! What does that mean? What did he mean to say? That he does take something seriously? Something which is…what?? It’s like he was saying that he’s more serious than I think… And I never thought that that’s a concern for him. Or is it me who doesn’t take him seriously? Why would he say these cryptic things in front of everyone!? Yeah, I think he’s very unserious a lot of the time, most of the time, but then he got very serious all of a sudden when he said that, which is disorienting enough regardless of the contents of his words. The whole thing is so dizzying… And of course then I dream about him…
Just a normal, ordinary dream… Nothing even happened, that’s the stupid part. We were sitting on the couch… Well, maybe ‘sitting’ is a bit conservative. We were cuddling, like it’s the most normal thing, melted into each other. I was right up against him, my head on his shoulder, and… I just remember the feeling so vividly; it’s one of those dreams. And now I can’t stop my mind from going through a series of flashing images of things that never happened. Why? Why does it have to be an emotionally unavailable, or emotionally confusing man who thinks that relationships are basically free sex memberships? Who apparently also thinks I’m needy and difficult…
“Cut the crap, Novak. What's up?”
Cue another shrug. “I don't know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re fucking annoying, you know that?”
This gets a wide-eyed stare out of me. “It's the high maintenance. Tends to annoy people,” I blurt out.
Mark mirrors my expression for a second, then laughs, pausing a moment before speaking: “I didn't mean that in a bad way.”
“Oh sure, I also compliment people by telling them they're difficult.”
“If this is why you’re mad at me, that’s an easy fix. I didn’t call you difficult, I just said — answering a question I was asked, by the way – I said you don’t like to ask for things.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“Sure. I for one think your comment about how I act like shit doesn’t matter was spot on.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“I…” Have no idea what to say. “I’m not mad at you and I’m not avoiding you,” I fold my arms over my chest.
“Right. Well if you ever do experience either of those things, you can just tell me. I’ll fuck off if you ask me to fuck off.”
“Very kind of you. I’ll keep it in mind.”
I am mad at him. I’m not even sure why. The thing he said about men and women was both so in and out of character for him… But I don’t know why it irks me this much. And what about that conversation we had a few days ago while he was making mac and cheese? That was so…normal and nice. So oddly validating and at the same time disorienting. It’s like he keeps saying something very honest or personal and then pulling way back and reverting to utter bullshit. It’s just dizzying.
All of a sudden, this closeness – at least perceived – developed between us; this friendship snuck up on me and now it’s normal for us to hang out because we like it, not because it’s unavoidable. And so now when he calls me needy, it feels extra shitty. If a stranger says something about me, it’s a lot easier to shrug it off than when it’s someone who, I feel, actually knows me. And the fact that he has this one-dimensional view of relationships just feels really disappointing to me. I mean, I guess it’s hardly shocking, considering his last one, but I can’t help feeling like I expected him to hold more nuanced, healthier opinions.
“Seriously, just tell me you’re mad at me. Admit it.”
“I’m not,” I snort.
“You definitely are. Either that or you had a stroke in the last couple of days.”
“This is not a very constructive interaction, seeing as you keep insisting I’m mad and I keep not being mad.”
“So what’s up with aggressively not looking at me then?”
“Aggressively not looking? That’s not a thing,” I say as I pretend to be looking down the street very intently, as if there’s something incredibly interesting or important about to happen over there and I don’t want to miss it. Ugh. Every time I do look at Mark, I keep remembering the dream. Or rather – which is much worse – how the dream felt.
“You’re making it into a thing.”
“Have you nowhere else to be?”
“Actually, no. What about you?” I can tell he’s grinning now. Not because I looked at him but just by the sound of his voice. “Any specific reason you’re standing on the side of the road at this time of day?”
“Yes.”
“Is it a secret?”
“I’m waiting.”
“For?”
“My ride.”
“You’re right, this is totally how friends who are not mad at each other talk. Silly me.”
I swallow back a laugh with an exaggerated roll of my eyes as I shuffle my gaze to Mark. “Olive. My editor. We’re going to an open mic and I’ll write things about it.”
“Olive?” He snorts a laugh. “What a weird fuckin’ name.” There’s a pause. “Aren’t you going to say something about my name and how it sounds like I should be a porn star or something?”
“Nope.”
“Ah so you being mad at me comes with perks. Good to know.”
“Mark,” I look him straight in the eyes, unamused. “Kindly, fuck off.”
His face splits into a smile, a genuine one from what I can tell. “For the record, you can ask me for things. Like when Cantrell comes over, you don’t need to risk hypothermia on the roof just so you don’t give into violent thoughts. You can come hang out with me instead.”
There’s another, very long pause during which I can’t decide whether to glare or smile at him. Then, before speaking, I let out a long sigh: “I don’t want to bug you.”
Mark seems ever so slightly taken aback, maybe? Just barely. “Since when? Didn’t seem like an issue when you were sneaking Cornell through my bedroom every other day.”
I take my time before speaking again. “Because,” I say, “I hardly knew you then.” But really, it’s because he hardly knew me. Somehow, because Mark knows me a lot better now, the danger of over-exhausting our friendship feels more real. “Now that we’re friends, there’s more at stake.”
He narrows his eyes at me, then shrugs. “Take it or leave it. I like having you around.”
That’s it. No joke, no punchline. No sarcastic twist to his words. That’s all he says; that he likes having me around.
“Can’t wait to read your take on Sunday night open mic crowd,” he puts his hand up in the air, in a stiff wave, as he starts backing away, towards the building and all I can manage is a stupid smile and a stupid roll of my eyes.
I should stay mad at him to stave off the panic about what to do next. I don’t need these stupid dreams and these cryptic things said at random times, and I certainly don’t need this crush on this questionable man.
* * *
“You have got to be kidding me,” Gwen’s voice slices through the noise of the party like a knife and somehow I am sure it’s aimed at me specifically, out of about ten thousand people crammed into this living room. I’ve lived next door to her long enough now, I’ve developed a new sense I guess.
Sure enough, when I turn in the direction I heard it from, she’s somehow both glaring and smiling at me. Then I shuffle my eyes to Kat, standing next to her, pretending not to notice me. Eva’s there too and it takes me an extra second to spot Lizzy with them - it’s the height difference. Looking back at Gwen, I pull my shoulders in a big shrug, accompanied by a clueless smile.
As Eva starts to spearhead the way towards where me and Matt are standing around, Kat reluctantly, demonstratively even, trails behind her roommates. Right, that. She’s still doing that silent-ish treatment thing. It’s been over a week now that she’s been acting kinda cold, kinda distant, kind of a little too polite when she talks to me. I think this conflict or feud, or a squabble maybe…is pretty fucking layered. At this point, I have a feeling it’s probably not just that she thinks I called her needy in front of a bunch of our friends…
“We really thought this would be the one party we wouldn’t run into you,” Eva laughs, her eyes darting between me and Lukin.
“Are you all avoiding me now?” I look at Kat as I say this and she rolls her eyes. She does that a lot lately, there’s probably some serious eye sprain risks associated with the escalated frequency.
“Of course no!” Lizzy steps in. “We just thought maybe this is a different social circle. Olive, Kat’s new coworker, invited us… Well, she actually invited her. Anyway, we weren’t sure if you guys know anyone here.”
“Ah, better luck next time,” Matt throws his arm around Gwen’s shoulders and she shoves him away, laughing.
“Yeah, this whole place is a village,” I punctuate my words with a sip of beer.
“Shouldn’t you guys be recording an album or something? Where do you find all this time for partying anyway?” Gwen looks at me.
“Oh shit, we forgot to record the album! But actually, when’s that supposed to be happening?” I turn to Matt.
“Are you seriously asking me?” He cackles.
“Yeah, I should probably look into this…” Actually, it sounds like we got bumped by some hotter, tighter band out of our original studio timeslot. So yeah, I should look into that…
“Oh hey, have you guys heard about our last show? It’s a bummer you weren’t there! You would have loved it, lil’ Carrot Top!”
“Was there fish involved?” Kat inquires, making her roommates react in a spectrum of confused facial expressions.
“No, the security meatheads started throwing and manhandling everyone. Shit got pretty crazy, Mark actually kicked one of them in the back,” Matt starts recapping, pointing a thumb at me, while I sip my beer and watch Kat listen to him.
The house seemed to already be at full capacity when we got here - music loud enough to feel in the floorboards, people spilling in and out of rooms, yelps and laughter coming from the back yard, all the hallmarks of a successful house party – so Matt gets louder and more animated real quick, employing physical comedy to illustrate the important parts of that night.
“Guy bent down and I just–” he mimes it with the neck of an imaginary bass, grinning, “—right there. Deserved it.”
“Are you guys talking about how Mark almost got his teeth punched in?” Stone materializes with Jeff at his side behind Lizzy, making her flinch.
“These people are inescapable,” Kat looks at Gwen; Eva looks at Jeff and shakes her head with a shrug; Stone shoves Kat’s shoulder and she lets out a laugh, probably at her own joke.
“Oh yeah, I forgot,” Lukin cackles. “A couple of those guys wanted to beat Mark up afterward.”
“What happened?” Lizzy gasps.
“I was there,” Jeff raises his hand. “As always, I saved Mark’s dumb ass.”
“He did,” I admit. Not the first time.
“And they say romance is dead,” Eva grins at him.
“I told you, that’s why I left the band,” Jeff looks at her while pointing a thumb at me, which triggers a short discussion on who really left and who was kicked out.
“Anyway, it’s always the same guy,” Stone drawls in monotone. “Same build, same attitude. They really don’t need to do much, just look tough, instead they always act like they have something to prove.”
“Yeah, they always fuck up the ambience,” I bob my head.
“The ambience?” Gwen repeats incredulously.
“Yep. You know, just keep it chill, let it happen, let the kids get a little wild once in a while.”
“You’re describing common sense,” Stone nods at me.
“Precisely.”
“Rare.” We all laugh.
“Hey Lizzy!” Some girl squeaks, then commotion ensues, some people get distracted, pulled away into conversations, I get shoved aside by someone walking by…
“You’re in a good mood,” Lukin croaks, his gaze fixed on Kat who does seem pretty smiley and content, aside from the excessive eye rolling.
“I’m always in a good mood.”
“That’s objectively not true.”
“It is. You just tend to annoy me out of it,” she grins at him.
“Challenge accepted.”
“Whatever you think that was an invitation for, it absolutely wasn’t.”
There’s a beat where nothing happens - just the three of us standing there, the noise folding around us as I wait for whatever spectacle is about to play out - and then Matt leans in slightly towards Kat, like he’s about to say something.
“Lukin—” He pokes her side, making her jolt. “Don’t.” He doesn’t listen; he never listens really. She grabs his wrist this time, but it looks like she’s already made the grave mistake of smiling. “I mean it—”
“You’re smiling!”
“It’s involuntary!”
He goes in again, faster, and she twists in the spot, shielding herself from him, fully laughing now, pushing at his shoulder.
“Stop—”
“Make me.”
“I’m trying! I will actually punch you!” I bet she would.
“I’d like to see that!” He cackles, then switches tactics — lighter, quicker, fingers at her ribs and I still just stand there, finishing my beer.
“No, no, don’t—” She shoves him again, but he’s already coming back in. “Lukin, I swear!”
“Come on—”
“No!” She turns, trying to angle away from the maniacal bassist and ends up right in front of me. There’s a split second where she hesitates as I look at her, eyebrows raised. Lukin lunges again and Kat just steps in. Much closer than usual. Hands catching at my shirt and turning us both around, using me as a shield.
Not so mad at me after all, I guess? This whole thing has felt like new territory; Kat being upset at me. Not that I’ve never annoyed her to the point of near-physical altercation… But it’s different now, she’s upset at me but she tries to act like she’s not, to hide something behind ‘I’m fine’ kind of bullshit. This is what girlfriends do to their shitty boyfriends, so that’s new.
“Control your psychotic friend,” she says, half-laughing, half-breathless.
“Oh, is that what you need me to do?”
“I swear I’ll punch you too,” she yelps out, turning us again when Matt tries to get her.
“I’m shaking in my boots,” I tell her and then my hand comes up and around her - easy, steady - resting at her side like it’s nothing. “Fuck off Matt,” I grin at him, very much aware of the fact that as I hug Kat with one arm, she’s still clinging to me of her own accord. I could stand more of this. “The lady said no.”
“You’re no fun!”
“Lady?” Kat pulls a face at me and steps away, almost seamlessly, like the usual amount of space between us relaxed and stretched back out.
“We should hire you as our security next time!” Lukin points at her.
“Did you just say you’re going to hire Kat?” Eva pops up again, bringing Stone, Jeff, Gwen, and Steve – I didn’t even know he was here! - with her, holding two bottles of beer, one of which she hands to Kat. “Honestly, the way Kat looks at Jerry lately, you guys totally should.”
“I could take him,” Kat mumbles, making everyone chuckle. “I just need one good bitch slap, that would really help me feel better…”
“Strangely arousing,” I say before I can decide if I should, causing an array of reactions from the group, from ewing (Gwen) to whistling, to groaning. “Come on guys, behave. Novak and I are an award-winning couple after all.”
“Did I miss something?” Stone blinks at Kat. “Did you and I break up already?”
At this, Kat lets out a tickled laugh but doesn’t actually answer Stone’s question.
“Yeah, Gwen made them play this stupid couples quiz thing the other night,” Eva tells him.
“Oh yeah, didn’t Lizzy and Jerry do really badly,” Jeff mumbles; I assume Eva told him something…
“Yeah, Novak and I wiped the floor with them.”
“Wait, are you guys dating?” Jeff looks back and forth between the two of us like he just woke up.
“Nope,” Kat says while I mumble something about how it’s complicated, for added chaos.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy seeing Jerry spazzing out like that,” I smirk at her and she sighs.
“Yeah but I also kinda feel bad… I mean, no comment.” She folds her arms over her chest.
“Yeah, it was kind of rough, watching them,” Eva looks marginally more apologetic than she sounds as she says it.
“What happened?” Stone goggles at her.
“They just did pretty badly on the quiz…”
“They…haven’t found their rhythm as a new couple yet, I guess,” Gwen takes over. “Lots to learn about each other.”
“Unlike me and young Novak here,” I elbow Kat lightly.
“I mean, you were unsettlingly in sync, I have to say,” Gwen grins.
“What is this bizarre conversation…” Kat mumbles, staring off into nothing, by the looks of it, as if she’s willing herself to disappear.
“All jokes aside,” I cackle, once again unable to stop myself from speaking, “I recently learned Novak finds me attractive so that’s that, nothing else left to strive for in life.”
“What? When did you admit that?” Eva gapes at Kat; A+ for the use of ‘admit’ here.
“I have never–”
“That night Gwen made out with Starr,” I cut her off gleefully.
“I thought I made it clear that we shall never speak of this again!?” Gwen punches me in the arm pretty hard. “But yes, I did witness something like that happening. It was actually right after the infamous bathroom rant by Kristine.”
“What now?” Steve looks at her, eyebrows raised.
Gwen shoots a glance at Kat, then looks at me, and then finally at Steve. “That’s probably a story for another time. Maybe Mark will tell you one day.”
“Mark, tell me.”
“I can’t, I don’t know what the whole thing was about.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“They won’t tell me.”
“Well technically, as far as I’m aware, you haven’t asked,” Gwen points out.
“Why haven’t you asked?” Steve looks at me again, evidently suddenly very interested himself. Why haven’t I asked? I don’t know, it didn’t seem like they would have told me, I guess. Maybe I should ask…
“Eh…” I pull my shoulders into a slow shrug, hands shoved in my pockets. “I don’t know that I care what she has to say. At this point, she makes her own truth…” I add, triggering a weirdly quiet pause; as quiet as it can be in the epicenter of a house party.
“Actually,” Gwen finally speaks. “I think she said some truths that even you would agree with.”
“Of all the topics under the sun, we’re still on this one…” Kat whines, making me wonder if I perhaps should ask.
* * *
“Alright, now I must know,” Mark steps squarely in front of me. “Whatever did my cheating cunt of an ex say?”
That you’re a shitty boyfriend but of course I’m not going to say that out loud now. Nor that she cheated on you because of me, somehow… “She did call you a dog at one point…”
“Really?” He looks amused.
“Well, she was more specific actually…”
“What, like breed specific?” He laughs. “Seriously?” He doubles down when I just continue to look up at him.
“A pitbull, I believe. It was very strange. I’ll tell you about it some other time…” Maybe.
“I’ll hold you to it,” Mark smiles at me, swaying lightly on his feet, standing closer than I realised…
“Kat!” Someone hollers. “Hey! Over here!”
“Hi Olive,” I smile, a little out of breath after elbowing my way across the room, through a group of people deep in conversation about paper planes, I think… Olive is sitting on a windowsill, dressed in a sparkly denim jumpsuit that makes her look like some kind of a space cowboy. There’s something so cool about her, something that feels the opposite of high maintenance. Actually, when I saw her for the first time the other night, I thought she looked like she belonged in The Runaways.
“Sorry I pulled you away like that,” she casts a glance somewhere behind me. “I just wanted to say a quick hi and congrats, you’re definitely in. For once, Stone actually delivered on his promises,” she grins at me.
“Thanks, good, yeah, I’m really happy to hear that,” I try to convey the appropriate amount of enthusiasm in my voice; not so much that I sound like a sad loser but enough that she knows I need this.
“I don’t know how you managed to be so funny in 500 words. Anyway, so I was thinking I wanna have you go to a Soundgarden show and write something about their new bassist. What do you think?”
“Sure, yeah…” Literally any other band would be more preferable but yeah…
“Great. And maybe let’s double to triple that word count.”
“So I feel like this is a good time to mention that I once kind of dated Chris,” I spit out in one breath.
“Cornell?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Nice! Great. If you can work that into your—”
“I would really rather not.”
“Well… Either way, I expect only the best from you.”
“Cool, so no pressure at all…”
“Other than all of it, no, yeah.”
“So the fact that I dated him isn’t…”
“What?”
“A…deal breaker? Illegal?”
“Kat,” she laughs out my name. “You don’t work for the government, this is a zine.”
“Right…”
“So, that’s your type, huh?” Olive sort of redirects the topic with a tilt of her head towards the end of the room I came from.
“Huh?”
“Musicians?”
I follow her gaze and… Oh, I think she means Mark… “We’re not… No.”
“No?” She narrows her eyes slightly, looking past me, presumably still at Mark, then returns her gaze to me. “You should probably let him know then.”
We chitchat for another minute and then I start making my way back towards where I left my friends. But then I stop in the middle of the room, unsure if that’s really what I want to do. You should probably let him know. I should probably let me know! I really didn’t plan on throwing myself at him but Lukin wouldn’t quit his stupid game and it just sort of happened and then he hugged me and it was just like that stupid fucking dream…
I end up wandering through the house for a little while, doing some people watching as I drift from the living room to the kitchen, from downstairs to upstairs, occasionally seeing someone I kind of know but it’s so loud and crowded that I don’t feel pressured to seek them out to say hi. Eventually I find myself on the back porch, looking over the back yard brimming with weeds and wildflowers. There’s a couple making out on a swing bench, some people leaning on the rail of the porch smoking weed, a couple of groups of people standing around in the grass, talking, laughing… One of those groups actually contains Mark, I notice. He looks up and over at me right as I spot him; we make eye contact but I don’t go over. He’s talking to some people, some of whom I also kind of know, others not at all.
I go down three creaky steps and grab a beer from a cooler below the porch, then look around like I’ve just woken up in somebody’s back yard, then back at the bottle in my hand, then at the porch.
“Give me that,” Mark walks over to me, already reaching his hand out while fishing a lighter out of his pocket with the other.
“No, you give me that.” He pauses, then hands me the lighter and proceeds to watch me struggle with it for a couple of minutes. Admittedly, I’ve never learned how to do this.
“Wow, we’ve finally discovered the one thing Katie Novak can’t do,” Mark looks at me with unabashed amusement.
“I’ve got it…”
“You don’t got it.”
“I do.”
“You’ve been fighting that thing for like five minutes.”
“It’s the bottle.”
“It’s not the bottle.”
“It’s your lighter.”
“My lighter’s fine.”
“Your lighter sucks.”
He leans over and snatches the bottle out of my hand.
“Hey—”
“Watch,” he tells me.
“I am watching.”
He hooks the lighter under the cap, quick pressure; pop. I squint at it as I take the bottle back. “Okay, that was luck.”
“Yeah. Years of it. Now you do it,” he takes another beer out of the cooler and hands it to me. I set the open bottle down in the grass and as soon as I touch the end of the lighter to the neck of the unopened bottle, I already know I’m not doing it right. Still, I try, then fail.
Mark exhales. “Jesus.”
“What!?”
“That’s not— What are you doing?”
“I’m opening it.”
“You’re not, you’re— I don’t even know what that is. You’re repeatedly assaulting an inanimate object.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t.”
“I do.”
“You don’t.”
I try again, it slips, I fail again.
“Okay, now you’re just—”
“Shut up.”
“—not listening.”
“I am listening.”
“You’re not doing anything I said.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I did.”
“You said ‘watch.’ That’s not instructions.”
Mark steps closer and puts his hand over mine at which I flinch ever so slightly. “Relax,” he drawls, grinning now. “Move your thumb,” he taps it with his.
“I like my thumb where it is.”
“Your thumb’s in the way.” He nudges it aside. “There. Now…” He adjusts the angle of the lighter and then lets go. I try again, it slips again, and I almost punch myself in the face.
“Shut up,” I tell him preemptively.
“Do it again.”
“Stop talking.”
“Do it again.”
I try again; same thing. Maybe if Mark wasn’t watching and hovering and crowding me I had a better chance…
“Jesus Christ—”
“Stop talking.”
“It’s okay, we all have our strengths.”
“Mark, I’m going to stab you…”
“Not if you can’t even open a bottle.”
“Hey, nerds.” We both look up to see Stone leaning on the porch handrail. “Ah, the good old bottle and lighter trick.”
“Unfortunately Novak has a severe lack of talent for it.”
“It’s your lighter, something is wrong with it,” I tell Mark which prompts him to step over to me again and put both his hands over mine, bringing them together to create some mysterious angle with the lighter and the bottle that I am clearly incapable of. And all this, once again, makes me want to both hold his hand and punch him in the face…
“Ah that takes me back…” At least Stone is enjoying this, by the sound of it. “All those parties I’ve watched young Mark do it.”
“Do what?” Both Mark and I ask without looking up, his hands still positioning mine.
“This.” I look up to catch Stone motioning his beer wielding hand towards us. “Whatever you call that. Whenever he didn’t know how to approach someone, he did this. Which was like, anytime he wanted to approach someone, probably.”
“What, like an act?” I turn to Mark who is now back a full two feet away from me.
“What? I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”
“No no, he totally did have an act. I’ve personally seen it countless times, maybe six, seve…eight even.”
Mark turns to him. “Okay, now you’re just saying numbers.”
“I don’t remember exactly,” Stone says. “There were a few. It was a system,” Stone says. “You had a whole routine.”
“I did not have a routine.”
“You did,” Stone says. “You’d lean in like…” he half-mimics Mark’s posture, exaggerated just enough, “...‘no, like this’...”
“Old habits die hard?” I give Mark some kind of a smug look - although who knows what my face actually reads as at this point… I just can’t think of anything else to say to deflect from the fact that, I think, Stone’s insinuating Mark is using some age-old pick-up tactic on me. “Actually, it’s kind of surprising that you’d have an act…”
“I don’t have an act.”
“...considering you inevitably stumble into relationships.” My words land heavier somehow than how I meant them.
“Okay, now you’re acting contrived,” Mark says and there’s a distinct note of annoyance in his voice now. “I take back what I said about your emotional health.”
“I’m acting contrived?” I pop my eyes at him.
“That’s what I said.”
“That’s a strange fuckin’ thing to say, I wasn’t sure if I heard it right.”
“Yeah, you did and you are. You keep beating a dead horse, as they say. For days now, days and days.”
“At least I don’t say a bunch of weird shit and then move on like it’s a fever dream that never actually happened,” I flail the bottle and the lighter around.
“Okay this is getting weird. Squabble away my children,” Stone turns on his heel and disappears inside the house.
I shuffle my gaze over to Mark who’s just standing there, looking sort of resigned, or tired maybe, I’m not really sure. “But you’re not mad at me, right?” He says dryly.
“I'm not.” It comes out a touch too loud.
“You know, actually this is exactly what I meant.” A tight smile creeps across his face, not quite reaching his eyes.
“Cryptic is not your thing, it sounds a little too dramatic when you say shit like that,” I stare at him, my arms hanging at my sides, still holding the stupid bottle and the lighter.
“Fine, I can be explicit. You can tell me what I did that bothered you so fucking much. You can also tell Lizzy that you didn't get a job you wanted and you’re in a crappy mood, or, you know, you can tell people when something’s wrong, when you’re not okay, but instead you do this…whatever you're doing here. You give people a hard time when they can’t read your mind and it’s shit.”
I can’t believe he just said that, like it’s so easy to always do everything right, like he’s just stating facts, like he’s perfect. My first instinct is to deny or contradict or somehow fight his words but I also can't ignore a nagging thought that he’s right, that I do that, I'm aware and I don't like it either. I think I push people expecting that they’ll leave but hoping that they’ll push back, that they’ll care to push back…
I roll my eyes that are starting to sting with tears that I hope Mark can’t see. “Cool. Do I get to say something shitty about you now?”
“Sure, knock yourself out. But I'm just saying,” he starts nudging an empty bottle left in the grass with his foot, back and forth. “You're really not that hard to…be around. I don’t know why you try to make it so…”
This is really the kind of conversation I’d expect to have with Lizzy or Gwen, not with my neighbor Mark who doesn’t take things too seriously, who has his own life, who’s good at compartmentalising, who says I’m weird for making him talk about things… I just don’t know how to react, I don’t even really know how to be around him anymore. It feels like something’s shifted, small but fundamental, and everything’s just a touch off. But it feels like I shouldn’t get used to this, whatever this is; this communication, this spontaneous emotional intimacy… “Yeah,” I say after a second, quieter now. “It’s a pretty shitty thing I do.”
Mark doesn’t say anything right away, he just nudges the empty bottle again, back and forth, back and forth. The noise from inside keeps spilling out onto the yard in uneven bursts - laughter, music, someone yelling - mingling with the voices outside but it all feels far away, like it’s happening somewhere else entirely. I stare at the label on the beer in my hand. “I don’t do it on purpose.”
“I figured,” he says and it almost makes it worse.
I let out a breath, short and sharp. Another beat passes, too long and too quiet; but at least I didn’t start crying…
“So,” he exhales, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking something off, “since we’re already in this weird purgatory of a conversation, it’s probably a good time to reiterate that whatever I said the other night or however I said it…I got manipulated into it.”
“Manipulated?”
“Yep. Low barometric pressure from the storm, less oxygen, getting psychoanalyzed by Gwen over candlelight, the list goes on.”
“Look, it’s fine…”
“Doesn’t feel like it’s been fine the last few days. Or are you gonna stop being passive aggressive at me now?”
“At you?” It really is fine, I don’t think I’m upset at him specifically, not anymore, I’ve just been feeling sort of…angsty.
“I know I’m no Jerry Cantrell but maybe you can punch me, maybe that’ll get you out of this funk? Watch out for the nose though.”
“Tall order. Your whole face is nose.”
“Exactly, it’ll slice your hand right up,” he says, making laughter bubble out of me.
“Yeah, it is a funk… I just need a little shake.”
At this, Mark steps over, puts his hands on my shoulders and shakes me a little. “Better?”
“Yeah.”
“So… I feel like Lizzy would want me to ask if you’re okay or if you’ve been sneaking whiskey into your morning coffee and taking too many naps?”
Good to know I’m not the only one who feels like this is a Lizzy conversation. “No, I haven’t actually,” I tell him honestly.
* * *
“Listen Mark,” Jack’s voice shifts from the last sentence. “I’m gonna cut to the chase…”
“Yeah, I figured my producer didn’t just call to chat about a show we both saw.”
“Right. Well you’re a big boy so I’m just gonna rip the bandaid off. You’re gonna have to wait until next month for the studio…”
“Are you pulling the plug on the album?” I ask at the same exact time. “Oh,” I say when his words register in my ears. “Yeah, that’s fine, whatever.”
“Then you’re probably going on tour pretty much immediately,” he sounds like he’s trying to convince me this is a bad thing.
“That’s fine. We’re still young. Very virile.”
“You’re really fine with that? Not even an ‘aw shit’?”
“It’s not ideal but I’ll live Jack,” I assure him.
“Okay then, now I feel like you don't need that chaser anymore.”
“What chaser?”
“I had some good news up my sleeve in case this conversation went south.”
“This is getting weirder by the word.”
“There’s an apartment not far from where you’re at–”
“I will not prostitute for a home unless it’s a house.”
Jack lets out a sigh that tells me he’s tired - of my bullshit or otherwise. “It’s in the same general neighborhood and it’s pretty cheap.”
“Okay, you should have led with ‘cheap’.”
“It’ll be up for grabs in a couple of months.”
“So what’s wrong with it?” I pinch the phone receiver between my ear and shoulder as I bend over to tie my shoes.
“Nothing,” he answers, maybe a touch too quickly. “Something…I’m sure. Long time renter is planning on moving out.”
“And where is it again?”
A few minutes later, I’m going down the stairs, two at a time, guitar case slung over my shoulder. At one point Jack said ‘it has windows’, which is a somewhat concerning sales pitch...but it is close and it is cheaper, so that’s pretty irresistible. I’ve enjoyed my current apartment a lot actually and I’ve been here for a few years now so that will be weird, to leave. But life goes on, I guess. The more we go on tour, the less sense it makes to keep overpaying for rent.
“Oh, hey,” Gwen nearly rams into me on her way up the stairs from the laundry room. “If it smells weird in there, it wasn’t me,” she points a thumb behind her.
“I wasn’t going there but thanks for the information…”
“Oh. Forget I said anything… It always smells weird in there!” She laughs out when I continue to peer at her. “Oh fuck off!”
“Very neighborly.”
“I mean, how are you?” She grins, making it up the last two steps so she’s on the same level as me.
“Peachy. Actually, I’m moving. Goodbye to weird laundry room smell.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not…”
“The latter.”
“Wait, you’re actually moving? Out?”
“Considering I’ve been living in my apartment, the only way really is out. Yes, I’m serious,” I add when her expression tells me she’s still confused.
“Oh. I didn’t know you were looking?”
“I wasn’t really,” I let the guitar case strap slide off my shoulder and rest the butt of it on my foot since this interaction is starting to feel less in-passing. “A guy I know heard of a place opening up and thought it’s more in my price range, which it is,” I shrug.
“Why didn’t Kat tell us?”
“Kat?”
“Novak?” Gwen pops her eyes at me impatiently.
“Yeah, I figured you’re talking about that one. She doesn’t know…”
“She doesn’t?”
“It literally just happened, I just heard about the other apartment on the phone…minutes ago…”
“Hm…”
“Hm what??”
“Nothing!” She lifts her hands up defensively.
“Novak’s not privy to everything that happens in my life.”
“She’s not,” Gwen nods in agreement and I realise that I kind of don’t want to tell her. Not because I don’t want Kat to know but because… Why? I’m not sure. Because I don’t want to not live next door to her… That doesn’t make sense, her knowing or not knowing won’t change the fact it’s happening. Maybe it’s because I don’t want this information to upset her – but I’m also hoping that it will, now that I think about it.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell her,” Gwen says.
“I’m not worried. What the fuck are these mind games you always play on me anyway?”
“I’m not playing mind games, I’m just reading your mind,” she beams at me.
“Not one normal woman in that apartment…” I drop my blank stare to the floor momentarily.
“So anyway, speaking of Kat…how long have you been nursing this crush?”
“Nursing? I thought only women can do that.”
“Mark.”
“What crush?”
“Don’t act dumb, Mark.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wow. And I really thought having this conversation with Steve was the pinnacle of embarrassment…
“Kat might be a little slow when it comes to these things, but don’t underestimate me, I see what you’re doing, you douchebaguette. All your jokes are weirdly sexual all of a sudden and knowing you, I assume that’s how you show girls you like them.”
“Consider yourself overestimated, because I’m not trying to show her anything. I just can’t stop making those jokes!” I laugh out and as it echoes around the stairwell and back at me, it sounds a lot more panicked than it felt.
“And why are you not trying to show her anything?”
“I don’t think she’d be that interested in being shown anything. Now can you please leave me be with the last shreds of my dignity, for fuck’s sake?” How did I get here, where did I go wrong…
“Wouldn’t be interested?” Gwen completely ignores my plea. “Please, she didn’t have any interest in Chris either but for some reason it took her a while to get over him. I’m sure you know her better by now than to believe whatever exterior she projects.”
“And, did she?” I ask with a nonchalant shrug and a shift of my eyes.
“What?” Gwen throws me a baffled look.
“Get over him?”
“Oh… You probably know better than I do. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed this, but Kat trusts you with her dumb secrets a lot more than any of us.” That is, actually, pretty much what Kristine said. That Kat tells me her secrets. How interesting.
“And speaking of secrets—”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your infatuation,” Gwen cuts me off. “Although if you keep flirting with her like that, I won’t need to say anything anyway. I use the word ‘flirting’ very loosely here, of course...”
“Stop looking so gleeful,” throw my guitar back over my shoulder and fold my arms across my chest because as she’s saying all this, she's grinning from ear to ear, obviously infinitely amused by my predicament.
“But this is so exciting!”
“For who?”
“For me!” She laughs, clearly unable to contain herself. “Finally, something interesting is happening in our building! So how long has this been a thing?”
“You know, Gwen… As you often say – you’re a few cans short of a six-pack if you think I’m going to continue this conversation with you beyond this point.”
“Oh but you should because I’m your eyes and ears on the inside.”
“Thanks but I’m not really looking to spy on Novak…”
“Fine, whatever. My advice though – keep doing what you’re doing and maybe invite her to things other than your goddamn band stuff.”
“Maybe I wasn’t clear when I wasn’t asking for advice… I don’t need advice and I’m not inviting Novak anywhere. There.”
“Can you just call her Kat? You know – her name?”
“Nah.”
Gwen lets out an exasperated sigh. “You’re no fun.”
“Exactly. Now leave me be. I’ll put my lunch money directly in your locker tomorrow, no need to stalk me.”
She cackles, already turning away towards the stairs leading up, but then hesitates, sort of swaying on the spot before turning back to me. “You’re in a much better position than you seem to think. Try not to sabotage it.”
* * *
“Intervention time!” Gwen comes back from the laundry room, clapping her hands together as she speaks - or yells really.
I close my textbook with a loud thud and push it to the end of our dining table; I can tell this won’t be quick or optional.
Kat, who’s been half-sprawled across the couch solving some crossword in a magazine, doesn’t even look up. “If this is about your red sweater again, I maintain plausible deniability.”
“It’s not about the sweater,” Gwen says. “Although,” she pauses, narrowing her eyes slightly, “we will come back to that.”
The front door opens before Gwen can launch into whatever speech she’s been rehearsing in the laundry room, probably. Lizzy steps in, a little windblown, a little flushed, holding her bag like she forgot it was in her hand.
“Perfect timing,” Gwen says immediately, pivoting toward her like a heat-seeking missile. “Sit.”
Lizzy blinks. “Hi to you too.”
“Hello, sit please.”
Lizzy looks at me. I shrug. Kat doesn’t even pretend to help; she just flips a page. Lizzy sighs and drops onto the couch where Kat just made room for her. “What did I do?”
“Nothing,” Gwen says brightly, dragging a chair around and sitting down backwards on it. “That’s exactly the problem.”
“That’s…not how problems work,” I say.
Gwen ignores me. “How is Jerry?”
Lizzy hesitates just long enough to be noticeable. “Fine.”
“Fine,” Gwen repeats. “Define fine?”
“He’s…good. He’s been really nice lately,” Lizzy says carefully. “We talk. Things are normal.”
“Normal as in ‘we’re rebuilding trust’ or normal as in ‘we’re pretending nothing happened’?” Gwen asks.
“Gwen—”
“No, I’m just asking questions,” she says, holding her hands up. “This is a safe space to talk about anything and everything. I feel like lately you have separated the time you spend with us and with Jerry and I just want to make sure you’re okay and that you’re treated well.”
I look over at Kat who’s already looking at me; we exchange looks but don’t say anything. Honestly, I would gladly punch Jerry in the face too but Kat’s already been engaging in enough intimidation tactics towards him. Besides, it’s really not up to us, it’s Lizzy’s life and we shouldn’t give her a hard time about it. I just know that if he ever does anything like that again, his body will not be found for a very long time. In the meantime though, I think the both of us could stand to be a bit more friendly with him.
Lizzy exhales. “We’re trying, okay? He…he’s really trying. And I want to try too.”
Gwen studies her for a second, her expression sharpening just a little. “And you’re not just saying that because you want it to work?”
Lizzy’s shoulders lift in a small shrug. “Maybe both.”
“I respect that,” I tell her. “That makes sense.”
That seems to satisfy Gwen as well, for now. She nods once, like she’s filing something away for later.
“Alright,” she says. “We’ll monitor that situation.”
“Great,” Lizzy says weakly.
Gwen turns her head toward me so abruptly I almost fall off my chair. “Eva.”
I lean back. “Gwen?”
“What’s going on with Jeff?”
Kat snorts softly from the couch and Lizzy perks up a little, all of a sudden interested, now that her interrogation is over.
“There it is,” I say. “I was wondering how long it would take.” I’ve been so busy and tired that I think Gwen took pity on me but I knew this was coming. She’s a firm believer that there’s only a very thin line between hate and love and seeing as I wasn’t the biggest fan of Jeff for a while, I knew to expect something like this. The thing is, I have grown to like him, we get along at work and it’s been fun playing basketball together, he’s pretty good at it. And yes, physically I would say he’s my type but I think physically he’s a lot of people’s type. Still, I don’t have any kind of deeper feelings towards him and that’s that.
“Well?” Gwen presses.
“Nothing’s going on,” I tell her.
“You’re friendly,” Gwen counters.
“We work together,” I shrug.
“You’re very friendly.”
“Sure, he makes me coffee when I don’t ask for it,” I say. “That’s just good workplace morale.”
Kat finally looks up. “He only does that for you.”
“That’s because the rest of you don’t work there,” I laugh out.
Lizzy smiles. “Do you like him?”
I pause, mostly because I know if I answer too quickly Gwen will latch onto it like it’s evidence.
“He’s…fine,” I say.
Gwen leans forward. “Wow, once again, fine… This is escalating.”
“Shut up. He’s fine - good coworker, fun to play basketball with. Fine. I’m not madly in love with him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Gwen narrows her eyes at me. “So if he asked you out—”
“He hasn’t.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I take a second, then shrug again. “I’d consider it.”
“Wow,” Kat says barely audibly. “Are you sure?”
“I’m not sure, I said I would consider.”
“What happened to hating his guts?” Kat sounds weirdly alarmed by this new information.
“Oh my god, don’t make it a thing.”
“It’s already a thing,” Gwen says. “What’s his star sign? I’m making a chart.”
“If this is what I get for being honest, I’ll never do it again,” I threaten and she laughs it off, shaking her head.
There’s a beat - a brief, fragile moment where it feels like Gwen might actually be done. I don’t think either me, Lizzy or Kat are naive enough to really think that though. Gwen’s gaze slides slowly and deliberately to the couch.
“Kat.”
“No,” Kat says immediately.
“Yes.”
“Once again, I decline to participate.”
“That’s not how this works.”
Kat drops the magazine onto her lap and finally sits up, already looking irritated. “There is no ‘this.’ You invented ‘this.’”
“Kat, we are friends, we are roommates, we are a team, and we are women. Who else are you going to talk about this stuff with?”
“Talk about what stuff!?”
Gwen smiles, sharp and delighted. “About Mark, of course."
Kat stares at her. “Absolutely not. Why don’t we talk about you instead?”
“I’d love that!” Gwen cackles. “So I’ve been thinking, I wanna start dating more but casually. Definitely don’t need to get into anything serious but I just love going out, going on coffee dates, dinner dates, park dates… Love it!”
“It would be truly fascinating to be you for just one day…” Kat peers at her.
Lizzy shifts closer, curiosity lighting up her whole face. “But Kat, why don’t you want to talk about Mark?”
“There’s nothing to talk about. And don’t encourage her,” Kat looks at Lizzy while nodding her head at Gwen.
“I’m not encouraging, I’m just observing.”
“You’re leaning forward,” Kat points out.
“I am interested!”
I put my feet up on my chair and cross my legs. “You have been…kind of weird about him lately,” I say slowly. It’s true and someone has to say it without theatrics. When Gwen told me she thinks Mark’s into Kat, I think she expected me to need more convincing or maybe to be against the idea somehow… But I think it’s pretty obvious he is and I think it’s great. Kat, on the other hand… Who can ever tell what’s going on in her head? I’m still waiting for her to say more than two sentences about Chris…
“I have not,” Kat says.
“You have,” Gwen, Lizzy, and I say at the same time.
Kat presses her lips together. “Define weird.”
“Avoiding him,” Gwen says.
“Then not avoiding him,” Lizzy adds.
“Then arguing with him,” I finish.
“I don’t— Arguing is normal. I argue with you guys all the time!”
Lizzy smiles. “He likes you.”
Kat freezes for half a second. “No, he doesn’t.”
“Oh, he does,” Gwen says easily.
“You don’t know that.”
“I absolutely know that.”
I shrug. “He’s very different with you.”
Kat looks at me and I feel like beneath the defense there’s an ounce of curiosity, like she actually wants to know. “Different how?”
“Less performative,” I say. “More…there.”
Kat looks between the three of us like we’ve all collectively lost our minds. “You’re projecting.”
“Are we?” Gwen asks. “Or are you just refusing to see it for some reason?”
“Jesus Christ,” Kat mutters.
“He pays attention to you,” Lizzy insists softly.
Kat’s expression flickers - just for a second - and then shutters again. “He pays attention to everyone,” she says. “That’s common courtesy.”
“I mean, true. Mark’s actually a pretty kind person… But I don’t think he pays attention to anyone else the way he does to you,” I say.
That lands. I can tell it does, even if Kat doesn’t admit it. “And so what? So you want me to be with someone who’s going to treat me the way he treated Kristine?” Those words come out quick and airy, almost like she’s hoping they won’t actually be heard.
“What?” Lizzy’s voice goes up. “But it was Kristine who cheated on Mark, not the other way around!”
“I’m not talking about that. He never invited her along anywhere, never introduced her to people, never talked about her…”
“I don’t think it’s fair to judge him based on the one relationship you’ve seen him in,” I chime in and Kat goggles at me openly, pointedly.
“Excuse me, miss All Musicians Are Scum?”
“Oh whatever! Mark is not like that. Mark is Mark,” I throw her a sunny smile.
“Yeah, Mark’s really sweet,” Lizzy adds, staring at her as if trying to put that thought into her head and seal it in there.
“Excuse me, are we talking about the same Mark here?” Kat laughs dryly.
“Yes, Katie!” Lizzy continues staring. “He does have a questionable sense of humor…but so do you,” she cackles before growing more serious again. “But seriously, he’s kind and sweet, and obviously really cares about you.”
There’s a pause where we all wait for Kat to respond; but she just exhales, long and slow, dragging a hand over her face. “You’re all insane.”
“Noted,” I say.
“Duly recorded,” Gwen adds.
Lizzy just smiles.
It’s not lost on me that during this whole intervention conversation Kat didn’t say she doesn’t like Mark or anything even remotely alluding to that, not once. And I’m sure Gwen and Lizzy noticed it too.
I loved how multiple times in this chapter you seemed to take us towards a certain direction and then totally went the other way. Mark and Kat getting closer, then getting colder, then finally opening up, at least until the lights came back up. Jerry and Lizzy seemingly stranded, then apparently reuniting, then we get the not-so-solid foundations of their relationship showing up. Also the confrontation between Jeff and Eva turns out differently than (I at least) expected. Honorable mention to Steve and Gwen as string pullers.
thank you for still reading and reviewing this fever dream of a fic 💓
also gwen is a master string puller and maybe steve has a hidden talent too, who knows
40. rainstorms, red flags, and saying the quiet parts louder
PREVIOUSLY: Jerry’s friends unanimously vote that he should not tell Lizzy about Dee’s “parting gift” but he decides that he wants their relationship to be built on honesty; Lizzy’s feeling a whole cocktail of emotions about it and in her search for answers, she consults all her friends and some family members about what to do, which ultimately results in a big fight between her and Kat, who maintains that Lizzy should dump Jerry because she deserves better; Eva’s chronic stress starts to manifest itself physically, at which point the other geeks put their feet down and spring into action; and Gwen’s watchful eye doesn’t miss the fact that Mark’s been making eyes at the redhead.
“Yes, but an interview for a publication that already interviewed Stone and Jeff?” I throw an ‘I don’t think so’ kind of look in Steve’s direction after he tells me we should do an interview with a local magazine that apparently partners with Humane Society. I mean, I agree. They sound cool and I think we should do it while our band lasts. Not least of all because they only print like a couple hundred copies of each issue. Exclusif, as the French say. “They sound like a pretty soft-core publication,” I go on regardless, unable to resist the compulsion of talking shit about Mother Love Bone. “Actually, this has ‘establishment’ smeared all over it.”
“Mark.”
“Steve?” I politely raise my eyebrows at him as we walk into the produce section.
“I didn’t get enough sleep for this. Mudhoney’s been together for a year now. We’ve only got another one, if that. It’s not—”
“Fine, we’ll give the damn interview,” I laugh at his no-bullshit policy of the day. “I’ll sell myself out, piece by piece, just for you. Hey, you see any leeks anywhere?”
“Leeks?” Steve stares at me blankly. Hm. Maybe he needs to get his eyeglass prescription re-measured?..
“Yes, leeks. The green leafy things, distantly related to onion…”
“Oh, yeah. Over there,” he snaps out of it. “Forgive me for asking, but since when do you buy leeks?”
“What’s the insinuation here, Steven?”
“You’ve been on a strict diet of food that comes in cans and to-go containers for years.”
“You’re forgetting jars and grocery store samples.”
“True, true. My bad.”
“Novak forgot to get some leeks so I’m being a good neighbor.” It’s true! I ran into her and Eva on my way out, as they were coming back from running errands. Novak asked if I’m going to a store today and I said probably, and she asked me to pick some fuckin’ leeks up because they had gone grocery shopping and forgot to buy them. I don’t know why Steve’s looking at me the way he is now.
“Ah so you’re Kat’s errand boy now… That makes sense.”
“Errand boy is a bit dramatic. I needed to go to the store anyway.”
“Hey, Mark, you live your life however you want…”
“I just happened to run into her and Eva and they said… Hey, I don’t need to explain myself to you!” I laugh.
“How very interesting…”
“They were coming from the store. Novak asked me if I’m going today… You know how she is, always…asking things…randomly.” I explain in spite of myself.
“Uh-huh.”
“Jesus, what’s with the questions?”
“I asked you one damn thing. Get a hold of yourself, man. If you wanna be Kat’s errand boy, that’s totally fine, that’s totally up to you. Honestly, good for you, buddy. So long as it doesn’t clash with your band responsibilities.”
“I’m starting to develop a sense of shame around freeloading off them,” I still continue explaining myself after laughing at Steve’s words. “I have to appear like I contribute sometimes… You would do the same if they were your neighbors. What? What??” My voice goes up in a very undignified way when he continues to peer at me like I’m an anthropology artifact he’s struggling to categorize.
“Mark, you’re one of the smartest people I know…”
“Oh aw thanks, man…”
“…so it’s really odd how dumb you’re acting. You’re not being very inconspicuous, you know?”
“Inconspicuous about what?” I snort and he folds his arms over his chest and gives me a look that says he wants to have this bizarre conversation now so we’re having it now. I guess he got enough sleep for that. Steve’s always been like that, as long as I’ve known him; the healthy confrontational type.
“Cut the fifth grade crap, Mark. What’s the point of hiding the fact you like Kat, you loser?”
“Sometimes I wonder if all that skateboarding has finally rattled the guy’s brain a little too much…” I mumble dramatically, blank stare dropped to the floor.
“Seriously?”
Ah, fuck. What is the point then? Okay, “fine… Okay. How do I say this?” I blink at him genuinely at a loss; how do I say this? I feel stupid when I'm around her?.. “She’s okay,” I say instead.
“Wow.” Steve’s expression grows more sober as he continues to look at me. “Didn’t realize it was that serious.”
“Fuck off, Steve,” I laugh and his stoic facade crumbles too.
Not sure about serious but it’s certainly different. I’ve always felt like ‘the smart one’ when it comes to girls, whatever that means. As if there’s superlatives to be designated within relationships. Why is that? If I dated a woman who is somehow measurably and undeniably smarter than me, what would that do? Probably strip me of my whole personality, which is entirely based in the concept that my intelligence is directly proportional to my worth. If I’m not the smartass in the relationship, then what do I have to offer? I certainly can’t be the pretty one. Kat’s just so attractive to me in everything she says and I feel like I’m totally content just endlessly listening to her. And honestly, lately, everything I have to contribute to our conversations comes out really stupid. It’s better if she does the talking for the time being.
“Well, I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“Was it?”
“Obviously.”
“Alright then.”
“You spent the last two weeks of tour on the phone with her. Does that not seem odd to you at all? Just a totally normal thing to do?”
“You made me call her!”
“I didn’t make you do anything, I just encouraged you to reach out to a friend seeing as you were on the brink of a nervous fucking breakdown.” Well. There was this one night on tour when it was just me and Matt that went out and I got really fucking drunk at some pub, couldn’t even understand English anymore. I don’t remember why, but we ended up pissing on the gates of some schoolyard… I thought Matt was just as fucked up as me but then he looked at me out of the blue and said ‘that bitch really fucked you up, man’ and just patted me on the back…
“So?” I continue with the snorting while fully aware of how dumb what I’m about to say will sound: “Those were entirely platonic phone calls.” They really were! Maybe not so much in retrospect but they were at the time. I never really thought of Kat as a…woman? No, that sounds wrong… I guess Kristine did bring up the whole thing about Kat being supposedly into me, so that was a thought at some point, but… Fuck, I was loosely committed to Kristine in some shape or form for most of the time that I’ve known Kat; why would I ever have thought of her as anything at all? Obviously she’s very attractive, I’m not blind. She’s also kinda…weird? Peculiar… She became a friend who gets tipsy and orchestrates impromptu uncomfortable, yet probably pretty healthy confrontations about emotional states and about feeling like shit… And I called her that first time because…I felt like I could say whatever I wanted and not say whatever I didn’t, and she would…get it? Or not get hung up on it. Just let me be pathetic without judgment… It was pretty selfish, actually. I called her out of selfishness. I mean, who else was I going to call with shit like that? No one else tells me they’re sorry about how shitty things are and then feeds me ice cream.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve seen her every single day since we’ve been back…”
“That’s weird that you would keep track,” I snort at Steve before clarifying with a defensive shrug: “We live next door to each other, she’s right there.”
“Shitty argument. I don’t even see the people I share my apartment with every day.”
“Our building has a very tight knit community…”
“You seek her out,” Steve enunciates slowly, with some kind of twisted satisfaction.
“You take that back!”
“So you’re gonna move in with her now?” The asshole ignores anything I say as he follows me along the isle when I continue to shop in hopes of ending this can of worms of a conversation.
“Mind your own damn business, Steve,” I laugh, feeling only very mild panic setting in.
“So…does she like you?” He goes on, clearly enjoying this discourse way too much.
“Nah.”
“No?”
“That surprises you?”
“She seems like she likes you…”
“But what about you, Steve? What about you and girls, Steve?” I raise my voice somewhat. “Are you as much of a loser as me?” Kind of a pointless question, really, since I happen to know that while I was on the brink of the aforementioned breakdown, as he delicately put it, some of his daytrips to European museums and galleries actually involved getting at least partially naked with people of the female variety. So really, I know the answer already.
“As I. And no, not at all,” Steve confirms. “Actually, I was just with a young lady last night. And this morning. Hence the lack of sleep,” he flashes me a grin momentarily.
“Anyone I know?”
“Not really, no. It’s that one cashier at S&M. Dark hair, short girl,” he adds cheerfully.
“Ah. So you’re seeing her now?”
“No, I don’t think I’ll see her again.”
“Why not?”
“She wasn’t very interesting. Awful record collection, too. Just disgusting.”
“Ah. I see.” I smile mechanically, wondering what Kat would make of knowing I feel stupid around her.
About thirty minutes later I let myself into my neighbors’ apartment because the door is once again left unlocked. Steve follows me in; no comment on how much time he spends here.
“How’s it going?” Eva asks me as I place the grocery bag on the kitchen counter between the sink and the fridge, while Steve makes a bee line for Kat. I don’t know how or what, but I’m sure he’s up to something.
“Swimmingly. Selling out one interview at a time. Should be on MTV by next May. You?”
“Work sucked but now I have two whole days off so yay.” She looks really tired, actually.
“So what’s up with you not showing up for our gigs anymore?”
“What…”
“What are you, too good for us now?”
“I don’t show up once, once…” Eva sighs. “Anyway, I heard you covered Bette Midler. I’m bummed I missed that.”
“That’s a mildly offensive thing to say.”
“What!?” She yelps out a laugh.
“We have plenty of our own songs that are…not subpar. Actually, can you even name a single Mudhoney song?”
“They have names..? I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Yeah, I know songs like… That one about sliding in and out?”
“Of what?”
“Graves…?”
“No but I should have written that. Very sick and twisted.”
“Okay, I don’t know that one, but I do know…Lock That Door?”
“Close, actually…”
“Oh, oh! Come Bite the Apple!” She perks up with her spoon raised to the ceiling like some kind of a weapon in this horrific assault on my dignity.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask evenly but grasp at my chest for added gravitas and drama.
“What..?” Her eyebrows sink low.
“I cannot believe you think I’d ever write anything even remotely as campy and weak as Mother Love Bone shit… Cool name, by the way… But lame as shit music. Have you even been to our shows?? Do I wear a cape on stage, Eva? I mean, what the fu—”
“I’ll have to stop you here dude. You are so fucking weird, I mean, seriously spectacularly weird… And let’s bear in mind I live with Katie Janine Novak… I do not have time for this performance of yours today. I swear I’ll come to your next show, I just need to…get a few years of sleep in first…”
I grin at her for a second, genuinely amused by her exasperation. Also, Janine? “Okay, I’ll let it slide this time. So, you’re still on a trajectory to pro sports?” Oh my love, Janine, I'm helpless for your smile.
At this, Eva snorts while scraping the inside of her now empty ice cream bucket with a spoon. “No… I think I might quit. I guess I’ll just have to become a scientist.”
“Oh, good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah. Your live-in friends have been saying you’re too tired to keep up with that noise. Plus, you play basketball with Jeff, among other people… That’s reason enough to quit.”
“Among other people.”
“Yes. So for me personally, it was the fact that Jeff was constantly getting into physical altercations at Green River shows.”
“Huh... He really does have some kind of a cognitive issues, I think...”
“Well whether it’s nurture or nature, it became a safety concern. A concern for my safety, that is. So I had to dump him.”
“Right… I just I needed to schedule in time for naps.”
“Also a very valid reason.”
“Well, I really need to get back to work,” Eva sighs out before chucking the empty ice cream container into the bin underneath the sink.
“Work? I thought you have two days off?”
“Oh, Mark,” she lets out a sad mix between a sigh and a dry laugh and walks off, shaking her head as she does.
I realize I’m alone in the living room and then I hear Steve’s voice coming from Kat’s bedroom so I go to investigate. He’s sitting on the edge of her bed, holding her Jazzmaster while she’s plugging it into a little amp. I find myself leaning against the doorframe.
“What?” Kat narrows her eyes slightly as she straightens up and catches me looking at her; the ever-present smirk playing on her lips.
“What?”
“Maybe Mark is also thinking this color looks good on you,” Steve offer with a shit eating grin and motions a hand at Kat’s dark green sweater while she throws him a quick, somewhat concerned sideways look. Then, the asshole that he is, he starts playing the unmistakable riff of Girl U Want. Kat, in the meantime, rolls her eyes. Why is she rolling her eyes? I do actually think it looks good on her, if I think about it…
At some point Kat starts cooking dinner with some help from Gwen (mostly talking while she’s supposed to be chopping and occasionally helping Kat find her beer that she keeps misplacing).
“Are you leaving?” Kat shuffles her attention to me as I step over to the door another half hour later.
I look at my hand on the door handle before answering. “It appears so.” I can’t take Steve’s smug energy anymore. The whole time, he kept giving me looks and saying weird things to Kat.
“You’re not staying for dinner?”
“Uh…” I look at Steve now who’s sitting on the couch, his ankle propped on the other knee, some kind of tabloid in hand. He mirrors my grin.
“You brought the leeks, I assumed you’d demand to stay for dinner,” Kat goes on.
“Novak. Do you want me to stay for dinner?” I ask slowly as I continue to look at Steve.
“Why are you like this…” The redhead sighs out on her way to the stereo system and starts running her fingers through a tower of cassettes; I follow her over.
* * *
It’s been several days since I last spoke to Jerry on the phone but I’ve replayed his words in my head so many times, it almost doesn’t even sound real anymore. I think I’m past the initial shock and it definitely helped to have my friends and family be there for me as I navigated all these emotions, but… It’s just hard to reconciliate the Jerry that’s sweet and protective and honest, and the Jerry that’s drunk in the back of a cab… I mean, he’s still sweet and protective and honest, but…
And what about my role in all this?! I’m the one who practically made him go out and meet up with his ex. I was just so set on making it happen, I was so sure he would get the closure he surely needed and move on, that I never stopped to consider that his ex is a real person that has real history with him… I feel like it all happened so quickly, me and Jerry, and I got so caught up in it, in our thing, that I forgot how recent their history is… I mean, I definitely believe Jerry when he said it’s really over but every ending needs to unfold in its own time and maybe I rushed him too much…
And then at some point I’ve started wondering if he doesn’t think I can…please him in certain ways. I know I don’t exactly scream sexual experience, but— Ugh, one thing Kat is absolutely right about is that I need to stop spinning out about this.
I’ve already made my decision and it’ll take time and talking, but I know it’s going to be okay. The rest is confetti, as they say.
Still, the image creeps in anyway, uninvited, unwelcome. Not detailed but enough to make my stomach churn a bit.
“Earth to Lizzy, Earth to Lizzy,” I realize Eva is snapping her fingers at me from the kitchen sink.
“Huh?”
“You’re thinking about Jerry again, aren’t you?”
“Yeah…”
“You want some tea?” Eva asks a bit softer now.
“Yeah. Hey… I need a…second opinion…”
“Or third,” Gwen points out as she crosses the room towards the bathroom.
“Or tenth,” Eva chuckles. “Go ahead then…”
“I’m gonna ask you something and you’re not allowed to laugh.”
“Me specifically?” She eyes me curiously.
“It’s gonna be something weird, isn’t it,” Kat also peers at me from the other end of the couch, half her face hidden behind a book.
“I’m serious.”
“Okay, okay.” Eva holds up her hands. “Go.”
“How do you…” I’m trying to word this in the least crude way but I’m struggling. “Give a good…” I trail off, still trying to figure out how to ask it.
“Oh my god,” Kat lowers her book to her lap. “Are you asking Eva how to give head?”
Eva looks at me, I still don’t say anything but I can’t help smiling.
Another pause. “Oh,” Eva says, grinning. “Oh my god, we’re here.”
“Eva…”
“No, no, I’m not laughing,” she says, immediately laughing a little.
“What did I miss?” Gwen returns with a mascara wand in one hand and a little mirror in the other.
“Lizzy wants Eva to teach her to give head,” Kat fills her in and I groan.
“Wait, why Eva?”
“I mean… You’ve probably done…everything the most of us all,” I look over at Eva while Kat and Gwen snort and chuckle.
“I guess I can…give you some tips,” I can tell Eva tries to sound gentle, “but you know that’s not how that works, right? You don’t seriously think that’s why this happened?”
“For one, Jerry doesn’t even know how your performance ranks yet. And secondly, that is objectively now how it works, as Eva said,” Kat adds.
“No, but some pointers for future reference wouldn’t hurt…”
“You are the woman of every guy’s dreams, Lizzy, you really are…” Gwen shakes her head slowly.
“I don’t know. I just keep thinking about it.”
“Of course you do,” Kat mumbled. “But this whole thing has nothing to do with you.”
“Seriously, this has nothing to do with you not being…something enough, you know that, right?” Gwen peers at me.
I exhale, sinking into the couch a little more. “I think I’m gonna call him.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Right now?”
“Yeah.”
I drag the telephone into my room and close the door behind. I don’t usually mind if my roommates can hear my conversations but this one, I feel, I have to do alone. Jerry picks up on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” I’m suddenly painfully aware of my voice. I don’t want to channel anything into my tone that I don’t think or feel.
There’s a pause. “I thought you weren’t gonna call,” Jerry sounds cautious.
“Really? Why? I said I would…”
Another pause. Longer this time. “I don’t know. Figured you might be done with me.”
“I’m not,” I assure him. “I just needed a minute.”
“No, that’s fair. I get that. I just wasn’t sure if…” He trails off.
“What?”
He’s taking his time again before I hear an answer: “You have very protective friends.”
“That I do… I actually got into a fight with Kat…”
“Because of me?” There’s something in his voice, something small and strained and hard to pinpoint at first.
“Sort of…”
“She hates my guts, doesn’t she…” It’s not really a question; Jerry’s not asking, he’s just…accepting.
“Listen Jerry… I’ve been thinking about everything a lot and… Well, first of all, I believe you.”
That seems to catch him off guard. “You do?”
“Yeah. I do. I think you told me the truth and that’s not nothing. And I think… You wouldn’t have told me if you didn’t care.”
“I do care,” he says quietly. “You have no idea how much I’ve been beating myself up over this. I really fucked up and I’m so, so sorry and…if you let me, I will spend as much time as it takes making it up to you.” I think it’s guilt. He sounds really, genuinely guilty.
“I know.”
There’s another pause but it feels less tense now, like something is slowly loosening, like the air is thinning back to normal.
“Do you think you can forgive me?”
“I mean, I’m still…” upset? Mad? Disappointed? The latter sounds worse somehow. “Processing…things. But I don’t think you’re a bad person, I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I really want us to have another chance.”
He lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “That’s all I can ask for. That’s a relief. And that’s the thing, I want you to know that I won’t push you and you can take all the time you need, and I’ll do anything you ask me—”
“Do you maybe want to come over later?” I cut him off. I mean, all that and I still just miss him. Lately, being with him, just seeing him, has been so exciting and so blissful, and I don’t want to lose that. I just really hope that I can get back to that same feeling, same place… “We could just hang out, get some food, watch a movie.”
“At your place?”
“Yeah.” I know he’s wondering if the girls are going to be around and if I’m being honest, there is a tiny little part of me that doesn’t want to tell him, just to have him squirm a little tiny bit more.
“Yeah, I’d like that. And, uh… Lizzy?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really sorry. I don't expect you to just move on or forget. I don't even know if I really deserve a second chance,” he sounds so miserable, “but I’m willing to work for it. I care about you a lot, Lizzy. I want to be with you. I just need you to know that.”
I close my eyes for a second, letting that settle, sighing out the weight that’s been pressing on my chest. “I know. And I appreciate you telling me the truth. That means a lot.”
“I won't rush you. Just…don’t give up on me.”
* * *
“Bit dramatic?” Mark’s head pops out of his skylight after a loud creaking sound.
“What? Oh…” I guess I am leaning back against the slanted roof, arms crossed, eyes closed, rain starting to pick up momentum.
“Kind of the makings of a hazard. If you slip and fall off the roof it may bring the rent prices down but I don’t know if becoming a stain on the sidewalk is a dignified enough exit strategy.”
I smile a little, keeping my arms crossed over my chest; Mark continues holding the window open above his head. “Jerry just came over,” I say and feel my eyebrows droop over my eyes.
“Oh?”
I let out a heavy, somewhat impatient sigh. “He…sort of…there was this whole thing…bad thing—”
“Yeah, I’ve heard.”
“You have?”
“Come on, it’s Lizzy’s personal life we’re talking about.”
“Right…” I chuckle. Of course she would have thoroughly briefed Mark on it by now. Occupational hazard of sorts, the occupation being our neighbor. “So he came over and I don’t yet know how to exist around him without throwing my boot at his head… Which I probably shouldn’t do… So I conveniently came out here to have a cigarette when he knocked on our door. Thirty minutes ago.”
“Ah.” Long pause. “You wanna come in?”
I nod and a minute later, as I clamber in through Mark’s skylight, it occurs to me that I haven’t been here in a little while. I guess since that time he told me to break in and retrieve the Lou Reed ticket, which feels like ages ago.
He’s waiting for me in the doorway of the room. “You look cold.”
“I don’t look cold,” I wrinkle my nose automatically.
“Are you cold?”
Pause. “Yes…” I guess it had started raining a bit heavier than I realized.
Mark opens his closet, pulls a sweater off a hanger, and throws it at me – and the shock of learning that he actually has and uses hangers is not lost on me.
I follow him out of the bedroom into the little living room and… Wait… “Were you…cooking?” I follow the sound of bubbling water into the kitchen to find a pot overboiling on the stove.
He rolls his eyes but his face splits into an obviously unvoluntary grin. “I was about to make mac and cheese when I was distracted by the smell of cigarettes coming from my bedroom.”
“Right…” I actually cannot keep from smiling as I watch Mark step over to the stove, lid of the pot in one hand, a box of pasta in the other. This is deeply amusing for a number of reasons.
“Okay now, enough with the staring,” he laughs. “How about you make yourself useful and find something at least half decent to watch.”
I nod, same grin on my face, come back out into the living room, and pull Mark’s sweater on over my head. It hangs unexpectedly big on me, necessitating a rolling up of the sleeves, and it smells faintly of laundry detergent and something else, something barely there, the way clothes have a scent when they belong to someone, when they’re not brand new. This was so perfectly timed… Whatever would I do without Mark? Either be getting hypothermia on the roof or brawling with Jerry in our apartment.
“So were you a jackass to Lizzy because of the Jerry thing?” Mark asks loudly from the kitchen as I turn the TV on.
“Did she tell you that?” I mute the TV sound so we wouldn’t have to yell over it.
“Rumor has it.”
“Just tell me what else you’ve heard…”
“That the hot chocolate was delivered to her bed. Sounds a bit homoerotic but who am I to judge…”
“Please, my love for Lizzy transcends gender norms. It’s a girls thing, you wouldn’t know,” I smile to myself. “But yes, I…overreacted about the Jerry thing, apparently.”
“I can’t imagine a time when you all didn’t know each other. I mean, what, there were no geeks? Weird.”
“Right? I should tell them I love them more often,” I add after a pause as I flip through the TV channels.
“Why don’t you?” Mark asks after another one.
“Easier done than said, isn’t it? I guess I default to other ways of showing it.”
“Like baking?”
“Like baking. I only really drop the L bomb on their birthdays…”
“So just drop it on other days too, easy.”
“Dude, I’m so emotionally out of whack…”
“Bullshit. You’re the most emotionally intact person I know,” he says so matter-of-factly.
“That’s because you’re a man and your social circles are primarily comprised of men. That’s really such a low bar. It’s actually pretty offensive that you’d even pay me this supposed compliment.”
My words draw a hearty chuckle out of Mark. “I’m glad I met you in this shitty old world, just to bring diversity into my social circles, if nothing else. And for the record, I actually do think you’re pretty emotionally apt. You’re very self-aware, which is more than most people could say for themselves.”
“Again, the bar is so low…” I give up on absently skipping through the TV channels for the time being and curl up on one end of the couch as I look at the kitchen doorway, occasionally catching a glimpse of Mark’s elbow. Sounds like he’s chopping something?
“The bar is at good height. I’ve known you for a hot minute, I’ve had a few conversations with you, I can come to my own conclusions, thank you very much.”
I realize I’m grinning from ear to ear. Somehow, this feels just like our phone conversations and it makes me feel giddy, kind of like right after you take a whiskey shot. “Thanks,” I say. “That’s a very nice thing to say to a human failure.”
“Failure?” He laughs out. “Don’t let this get to your head but I think you’re a definite success of a human being.”
“Being alive is the bare minimum, that doesn’t count as a success.” I don’t know why I keep fishing for compliments, I really don’t mean to… I just feel like it’s okay to admit these things; here, now.
“You’re good to be around. I think that’s a success.”
“Well…” I grin to myself and bury my face in my hands that are starting to disappear in the sleeves of Mark’s sweater again, “this absolutely will get to my head.”
“How come you tell this stuff to me anyway?”
“It is the confessional effect, isn’t it? Just like the phone calls.”
“Ah, so I’m just a stray ear that happens to be in the right place at the right time.”
“Please,” I drawl with a roll of my eyes. He is in fact exactly the ear I want, most places, most of the time… And I’m glad I didn’t say that out loud.
“You know, not to sound like I’m obsessed with my cheating cunt of an ex-girlfriend, but she did say that you tell me things because you want me to be your special friend.” Oof.
Apparently, the cheating cunt of an ex-girlfriend also thought that Mark wanted me to be his special friend, but I better not say that out loud either because it would sound very… I don’t know how that would be received. I don’t know how I’d want for that to be received. “A special friend, as in special needs friend? Do I come across as someone with a learning disability?” I say instead.
“Ah I’ve really missed hearing this snark in high definition,” he chuckles through his words.
“For the record,” my cheeks hurt from smiling, “there’s plenty I don’t tell you.”
“Sure. You also do tell me plenty. Which is good, don’t stop,” Mark adds the last statement very quickly and a bit clumsily.
Right. “Do you feel like…it was, I don’t know…easier to talk about stuff on the phone? The whole confessional effect and all?” I start picking at the frayed bottoms of my jeans.
“Stuff like…what? Your questionable taste in music?”
“My questionable taste in men, your breakup, our respective childhoods, our respective emotional and mental issues as it often pertains to our childhoods, just things that we don’t normally talk about…”
“We don’t?”
“Well…” God, why am I like this?? Why do I sound so needy? “Since you’ve been back, it doesn’t seem like we do… I mean, since you’ve been back, I haven’t learned any new incriminating information about you,” I add quickly to make it sound more nonchalant.
There’s a long pause. “You know, the last couple of weeks, I have been feeling a little ill. Must be that European brain eating amoeba…” Another pause. “I always enjoy talking to you though.” And another. “I’ll try to think of some juicy secrets…”
I let out something between a sigh and a groan. “This is so contrived…”
“I think the word you’re looking for is emotionally healthy,” Mark enunciates. “So… Any more questionable men lined up on your horizon?” The clanking of dishes and silverware intensifies in the kitchen.
“Not if I can help it,” I laugh dryly.
“Is that something you generally can’t help? How interesting. Like a compulsive disorder? Does it have a name?”
“What is happening in there?” I laugh his silly questions off. “Are you being assaulted by haunted cutlery?”
It’s you. You are the questionable man; so attractive in so many ways and so fun to be around, but evidently terrible to be with. And either way, just because Kristine said that I’m totally his type, doesn’t mean it’s true. She was probably jealous of anyone and anything that moves on two legs, by the sound of it.
“Et voila, as the French say,” Mark comes out into the living room, a steaming bowl in each hand.
“This… I…am actually speechless,” I peer at the mac and cheese topped with an array of chopped things like olives and onions and…are those sun-dried tomatoes? I guess they too come in cans and jars…
“Don’t be rude.”
“I’m very impressed!”
“The perks of setting the bar on the floor.”
“Thanks,” I say as I take the bowl from him and try to ignore the soap bubbles popping inside my chest.
* * *
“Hey Jeff, I’ll be right there,” I speed walk past him and into the back room. Admittedly, it’s been pretty fun getting to a point where the two of us can tease and rile each other up, but not today… I’m running a touch late and I don’t want to give him even the slightest reason to be remotely irritated by me. Considering that I’m about to deliver the news to him… God, why do I feel so guilty about it?!
“Hey,” he throws me a lopsided smile when I re-emerge, all ready for a shift of coffee slinging. “You okay?” He shoots me a sideways glance while steaming a pitcher of milk.
“You ask me that a lot lately,” I point out, stepping over to the sink. I mean, I guess a lot of people, especially ones I live or work with, have been asking me that lately…
“I meant, how’s it going?”
“I’m fine, Jeff.”
He doesn’t look totally convinced but doesn’t say anything more. Also, he did take my shift the other day, when Kat asked him.
I probably wouldn’t have agreed to anything, had my roommates ran it past me beforehand but I realize now that I really desperately needed that extra down time. It’s just been kind of unexpectedly hard to keep up with everything and also have at least an okay time doing it. I am excited to be working on my degree, I’m good at being a barista and I enjoy it, and I love playing basketball. But I didn’t realize it would be so hard keeping up with all that at the same time while also trying to have a social life and have time for my other hobbies and somehow not totally reject the concept of rest and sleep.
It's gotten so bad that all this stress has started taking a toll on my body. I haven’t been sleeping very well even when I do have the time for it and my skin is getting all fucked up again, and that hasn’t been an issue for the last couple of years. So yeah, maybe Jeff doesn’t even realize it but he’s done a huge favor for me; I really needed that.
“Okay, you look…frazzled. Not in a look-like-shit kind of way,” Jeff adds hastily with a laugh. “Just…kinda frazzled…”
“Dude, I feel frazzled. Which, by the way…” I turn to look at him while grabbing a clean rag. “Thanks for covering my shift the other day. I had no idea Kat had asked you until the morning of and—”
“Don’t sweat it buddy,” he shrugs a bit awkwardly. “Sounded like you could use some extra down time lately. Plus, you have saved my ass before so… You know, it’s fine,” he says as he places two drinks on the end of the counter for two construction guys.
“Well,” I grin at the thought of how shocked me from a few months ago would have been to witness this conversation. “Thanks.”
“Besides, Kat did bribe me.”
“She said you agreed before you even knew what the bribe was,” I smirk. “Actually, she mentioned you agreed almost suspiciously quickly.”
“Okay, okay, don’t push it,” he grins at me while rinsing out some pitchers and cups. “So you feel any more rested?”
“Yeah actually. And…” I don’t know why but suddenly I feel kind of nervous to say it. I guess part of it is that I don’t actually even want to say what I’m about to say but I know I have to…
“Hey, losers,” Stone storms into the café, causing a small flock of teenage girls who were deciding on their drinks to yelp and part, making way for him. “Did you tell him yet?” He looks at me.
“Tell me what?” Jeff darts between frickin’ Stone and me.
“I take that as a no then. Anyway, I’ll take a mocha.”
“Tell me what, you doofus?” Jeff doesn’t budge.
“Stone, you ever shut your big fuckin’ mouth?” I throw a rag at him, which he catches and stuffs into his jacket pocket; the weirdo…
“You know, I liked you more when you sounded less like Jeffrey.”
“Tell me what?” Jeff looks at me now.
I inhale and then sigh out. “I’m quitting basketball.”
“Why!?”
“You know why, Jeff,” I roll my eyes because I can tell this whole thing is already turning out a lot more dramatic than I anticipated.
“But it’s summer, don’t you get a break from school?”
“Yeah, I get somewhat of a break but…” Maybe I don’t need to quit basketball? But then the faces of my roommates float into my mind, listing all the reasons why this is the move and I can’t argue. Plus, I have a feeling that if I came home and told them I didn’t quit, there would be violence, either verbal or physical…
“Quit the whining, Jeff,” Stone pipes up, “Have some dignity. By the way, still waiting for that mocha.”
We both ignore him. “We’re gonna miss you, you’re one of the best players…”
“I mean, I’ll come by occasionally, I just can’t commit to a regular schedule, it’s just too much…”
“Yeah, that makes sense…” Jeff mumbles. “It just… Yeah, kinda sucks.” Wow, I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be fun for a handful of reasons but I had no idea Jeff would be so upset by it. “I mean, you love it.”
“Yeah, I do,” I admit, quieter now. “That’s kind of the problem.”
There’s a beat where neither of us says anything. The espresso machine hisses, Stone continues to demand a drink that he has no intention of paying for, and we continue to ignore him.
I turn to search for another rag. From the corner of my eye, I can see Jeff hesitate, like he wants to say something else but he doesn’t. Stone, of course, chooses that exact moment to barrel back into relevance.
“So is this where we all cry or…?” he leans on the counter, watching us like he paid for front row seats. “Because I can do a speech if needed.”
“Shut up,” Jeff says flatly, sliding a cup of drip across the counter, glaring at Stone.
Stone takes a sip, grimaces. “This is terrible.”
“Then don’t drink it.”
“I won’t,” he nods, taking another sip.
I huff out a laugh. Jeff exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I guess you have been dropping shit, zoning out mid-order, you almost gave that guy oat milk when he asked for whole yesterday—”
“That was one time.”
“—and you called me ‘Kat’ the other morning.”
“Okay that one’s concerning,” I admit.
Stone perks up immediately. “Seriously, I can give a speech.”
“Please leave,” Jeff gestures vaguely at Stone and the door.
“I’m a paying customer.”
“You haven’t paid.”
“Semantics.”
* * *
“Turn the light on,” Dan says to no one in particular.
“I thought I did,” I stop in the middle of the dark room. Huh, I really thought I did. I squint at my right hand, still holding my apartment keys, then at my left one, as if one of them is bound to have some kind of record of having touched the light switch.
“Seems like you didn’t,” Steve flicks the switch. Nothing happens.
Lukin steps over and flicks it again. Nothing happens again.
“You need a new lightbulb,” Dan tells me after he also tries his hand at the switch flicking.
“My lightbulb is fine,” I assure him as I make my way towards the kitchen, tripping over a coiled cable in the dark. I go to turn the light on in there but it’s not working either.
“Did you forget to pay the electric?” Lukin croaks while Steve opens my apartment door again. It’s dark out in the hallway. Huh.
“Was that always like that?”
“I don’t believe so,” Steve answers.
“Huh.”
“Uh huh,” Dan adds.
Lukin ‘hmm’s.
“Curious,” Steve mumbles. “Where’s your flashlights?”
“I don’t have flashlights,” I snort.
“Why don’t you have flashlights?”
“You should probably buy some flashlights,” Dan points out.
“Actually, I have something better. I have neighbors,” I walk past the three guys and out into the hallway. They all pile out of my apartment behind me.
“Do they have flashlights?” Lukin asks.
“Doubt it,” I say as I bang on their door and rattle the handle. “But they might have some…” Eva rips the door wide open and reveals their place decked out in candles like a catholic church on Christmas Eve. And of course, Novak, curled up on the end of their corner couch, looks fuckin’ beautiful in the glow of all the flickering flames.
Just then, it thunders outside and a lightning strike flashes pale blue through the skylight in the living room. “Cool,” the redhead cackles quietly. “Anyway, it’s the night after tomorrow.”
“What’s the night after tomorrow?” I can’t stop myself from butting in.
“Kat starts her new job.”
“Not quite…”
“New job?” I look at Kat.
“Job implies that I’d be getting paid more than enough for a pack of gum.”
“You’re not becoming a stripper then, I take?” Why on earth did I just say that…
“I don’t have enough hand-foot coordination for that. It’s a writing thing,” she goes on somewhat reluctantly when I continue to look at her. “I have to go to an open mic tomorrow and write about it. Riveting stuff.”
About half hour later Matt has taken it upon himself to eat all the food in the fridge so it doesn’t go bad. Eva kept insisting that the blackout likely wouldn’t last very long but at some point joined him and is now perched on the kitchen counter, grazing. Dan is doing some kind of merging experiments with a few candles and every time there’s lightning, the shape of his creation looks more and more possessed. Steve’s been awfully quiet, just watching, as if he’s waiting for something to happen. Gwen went to take a shower “since there’s nothing else to do”. Lizzy’s curled up under a blanket on the couch, next to Steve. I’m pretty sure she’s been dozing off between conversation. Kat is sitting on the floor at the edge of the room, fiddling with her guitar, unplugged of course, learning to fingerpick by the sound of it, and I’m balancing on the back two legs of a chair at the dining table, just sort of spacing out to the sound of rain on the skylight.
“Kat, how do you feel about going on a blind date with a guy I work with?” Gwen storms out of the bathroom, releasing a thick cloud of steam as she does.
“Negatively,” Kat doesn’t miss a beat as she looks up at her friend.
“He’s totally your type.”
“What’s my type?”
“You shouldn’t say no before you even give it a chance,” Gwen starts brushing her wet hair, inadvertently flicking water droplets at me, “you never know what you might miss out on.”
“What is my type, Gwen?” Kat repeats. Ooh, I hope she says dirty blondes, brown eyes, about six-two…
“His name’s Darryl and he’s a musician.” Ew.
“People named ‘Darryl’ are definitely not my type, sorry.” Ha!
“He’s totally your type, he plays like five different instruments.”
“That’s absurd. The fact that I’ve been known to favor people who play music is not a type, it’s a compulsion. A mental disorder, really.”
“So…what you’re saying is, you’re kind of compulsively into Mark?” Steve, the asshole, asks her right in front of everyone. What the fuck, Steve? This is the kind of thing you ask her when she’s drunk and not paying attention; not when everyone’s looking, geez.
Kat pinches the bridge of her nose with a pained frown. “Quit trying to make my love life happen, Gwen,” she glares at her friend. “It’s not worth resuscitating. Let it rest in peace.”
“Oh my god, you drama queen, just because you’ve had a couple bad dates doesn’t mean your entire love life sucks,” Gwen snorts back. Well, this is getting interesting.
“Come on Kat, everyone has crappy dating stories,” Lizzy’s apparently awake again. “It’s just what happens until it doesn’t anymore.”
“Yeah, I think you would really like him, actually, Kat,” Gwen continues with even more conviction in her voice.
“I already like plenty of people, thanks.”
“He definitely likes you. I’ve showed him a picture of you,” Gwen’s dark eyes glisten with the reflection of flames and wow, I’ve just witnessed the existence of pure evil. That was it.
“Anyway,” I throw in a fake yawn as I land on all four legs of the chair with a thud. “Who wants to—”
“Not anyway, you thrifted Iggy Pop,” Gwen clicks her tongue, making everyone howl with laughter, not excluding myself…
“Gwen, I don’t even want to know what picture and why on earth you would even do that… I want nothing to do with this,” Kat pores in a monotone, to my delight, I have to say.
“What if he’s already asked to see if you’d meet up with him?”
“Ew!”
“Seriously, Gwen, ew!” Eva echoes Kat’s disgusted expression.
“Shut up if you’re not gonna help,” Gwen sticks her tongue out at our favorite barista scientist. “Mark, what do you think?” She reroutes so suddenly, it gives me mental whiplash.
“What do I think?” Is all I can say, a politely surprised expression on my face.
“About blind dates?”
“Uh… I think that, for the most part, the congregation, so to speak, between man and woman is a complete freak accident. In my years of being alive, I’ve noticed that guys really tend to favor the company of other guys and women thrive amongst other women. Really, we should all try to be a little more gay, the world would probably be a happier place.”
“That’s…really fucking weird,” Gwen voices the thought that also seems to be reflected in Kat’s face.
“You guys are here all the time,” Eva points out and grabs a pack of cookies out of Matt’s hands. “These don’t need to be refrigerated, you bozo… You hang out with us a lot. You know we’re women, right?”
“He’s been saying a lot of weird stuff lately,” Steve mumbles. “Don’t take it personally.”
“It’s ‘cause that bitch Kristine fucked him up,” Matt croaks.
“What?” My incredulous voice goes a touch higher than intended. “I’m just saying… People have sex because it feels good and relationships just make it easier to keep having it. It’s a freak accident but also inevitable, so whether it’s a blind date or—”
“I just wanted to know if you would or wouldn’t go on a blind date…”
“Sure, why not? Not any less rhyme or reason to it than going about your life hoping for a spontaneous meet cute scenario. Not that I’m saying you should go out with Darryl…” I gesture in Kat’s general direction and see her watching me with an oddly glazed stare. “Darryl is a serial killer name anyway.”
“That actually explains a lot about your last relationship…” Gwen widens her eyes at me. Ouch.
“Let’s not go there, okay,” I stretch my mouth into a smile.
“You sound like someone who’s never been in love and that’s really just sad.”
I haven’t? I think I have. But that’s not the point, and definitely not one I would want to voice to Gwen along with a roomful of my friends. “Very Austenian. Should I throw a glove at you now?” I laugh out.
“It’s very likely it’ll happen to you one day. And then you’ll realize what a boring whore you’ve been,” Gwen grins. “And maybe it’s already happening.”
“What? Steve, you promised you’d keep our love affair a secret,” I deflect clumsily.
Even in the relative dimness of the candle light, Gwen’s eyeroll is impossible to miss. Then, she turns to Kat again: “You don’t like blind dates, do you? You’ve never been on one.”
“I’m not looking for a mate. And even if I was, I’m with Montaigne on this one.”
“Who…” Dan’s apparently been following the conversation, too.
“Michel de Montaigne, the French philosopher… Doesn’t matter. Even if I was desperate, it would still make more sense to base a relationship on friendship and strategic blindness, not blind dates and passionate non-stop fucking.” As she says that last part, she definitely looks irritated. “That’s a twisted, Hollywood-induced idea.”
“That’s very pragmatic,” Gwen says.
“I mean, I don’t necessarily agree with him completely but I also don’t care to go on some weird courtship meeting with a guy who saw my picture,” Kat sounds increasingly annoyed as she stands up, setting her guitar down, and heads for the little appendix of the room, with a little couch underneath the only window we’re allowed to smoke at. As she disappears around the corner, I look up and catch Gwen peering at me. She meets my gaze and gives me a weird smile; not really sure what sentiment it’s supposed to convey. Then she goes back to the bathroom.
I give it an appropriate amount of time, maybe two minutes, before I get up and nonchalantly make my way into the direction Kat just went. When I round the corner, I find her kneeling on the loveseat couch facing the open window with a cigarette in her hand.
“I broke up with my first girlfriend because she was a terrible actress,” I say as I slump down onto the seat beside her. She doesn’t look at me and it feels very pointed. “She kept trying for parts in school plays but all of her auditions involved a dramatic reading of a scene from whatever her favorite TV show at the time was, and the scene always culminated in tears. Every time. She really did cry a lot, that girl… Wonder if she ever got diagnosed with some tear duct disorder…”
“Funny,” Kat finally mumbles, still not looking at me. What did I do?? I thought she was annoyed with Gwen’s blind date suggestion.
“So you’re gonna see Darryl?”
She scoffs. “As previously stated, I’m not desperate enough.” Then, after a pause: “Do you actually think people get into relationships to get laid regularly?”
“Sure, loads of people do. Some don’t, I guess.” I mean, statistically speaking, more people probably end up with someone because it started with sex in one way or another.
“What a drag…”
“Why do I feel like that was the wrong answer?” I eye Kat who’s looking at me now, frowning slightly.
“There’s no wrong answers,” she shrugs and, I’m sure, swallows the rest of what she’s thinking instead of saying it. “Just curious… What are platonic relationships for then? If we’re categorizing things so transactionally…”
“This feels like a trap.”
“You know, if I think about it, I can see how I’m the most emotionally intact person you know.”
“Sounds like an insult but I can’t really tell…” I narrow my eyes at her, smiling, but she just quirks her eyebrows and faces out the window again.
I want to ask her why she’s mad at me, but I also don’t. She didn’t like my comments about men and women, did she? I mean, it makes sense. I didn’t entirely mean what I said either. Although my experience has been something along those lines, so far. I certainly wouldn’t have ended up with Kristine if the world didn’t work like that at least some of the time.
And love? I think I felt that a lot more when I was a teenager. The older I get, the more complicated everything seems. It feels like there’s not enough time to get to know someone enough to figure out if I love them before we either get together or go our separate ways. So, sex is simple.
There’s a loud bang on the apartment door which makes Kat turn around automatically even though we can’t see it from here. “Expecting someone?”
“Hopefully a serial killer,” she says as another lightning flashes outside. She then crushes the cigarette but in a little ashtray, closes the window, and sits down next to me. “I’m guessing it’s Jerry though. He always bangs on our door like he’s being chased.”
“So where do we stand with the whole boot throwing thing?”
“We?”
“That’s the transaction. You throw a boot at a guy’s head – I throw a boot.”
Finally, she smiles, hallelujah! “No physical violence but brutal sarcasm tends to fly over Lizzy’s head so feel free to throw that at him as much as you want.”
“Gotcha,” I grin at her.
I kind of like that she’s upset at what I said, in a weird way. The fact that my opinions on dating got a pretty pronounced reaction out of her somehow feels…constructive. I want her to tell me how I’m totally wrong and why; to spell her every thought out for me. Huh. What is happening here? What do I want with her?? I mean… Nothing specifically. Just sort of everything… What the fuck is that all about?
* * *
“What are you doing?” Dan looks down at me arranging pillows and cushions on a blanket I put down in the middle of the floor.
“Making myself a reading island,” I motion at a little stack of magazines and a few candles at the edge of said island. “What does it look like??”
We all flinch when the muffled howling of wind and the sound of raindrops on the living room skylight is abruptly interrupted by loud banging on our apartment door. Steve swings it open and right as I lay my eyes on Jerry standing in the hallway, there’s a loud bang of thunder and a flash of blue lightning that makes the whole scene suddenly very dramatic.
Turns out he had tried calling Lizzy but telephone lines are also affected by the storm so he couldn’t get through. He heard about a power outage in this part of town and came to check in on ‘us’ (we all know it’s just Lizzy that he wanted to check) and brought quite an impressive assortment of snacks (the perks of a guilty boyfriend). Poor guy had no idea that we have four extra stomachs around tonight; not even five minutes later all the bags, boxes, and packets are open and being enthusiastically snacked on.
At some point we all end up sitting and lounging around with the storm continuing in the background, now joined by crackly music on Kat’s little portable radio, just barely louder than the havoc outside. It’s really humid and the orange tinted darkness makes it feel hotter than it probably is. I’ve noticed some of us started whispering here and there instead of speaking at a normal volume, probably unwittingly. There’s the kind of deep calm in this apartment that I would have never guessed this group of people is capable of relishing. I love storms like this. It almost feels magical, like anything could happen, like people might forget themselves… Eva’s walking around replenishing and relighting some candles when I spot something interesting on the cover of one of the magazines. SECRETS, SCANDALS & SOULMATES: Test Your Love IQ NOW! “Oh, this is perfect.” No one reacts to my words but I’ve decided: “we’re doing this.”
Kat squints at me from the couch where she’s finishing off a bag of potato chips. “You’re about to make us do something really fucked up, aren’t you…” She licks her fingers.
I hold up the magazine, jabbing a finger at it. “Couples quiz.”
Lizzy perks up immediately. “Wait, like those compatibility things?”
“Yes.”
“This is gonna be the easiest A+ of my life,” Jerry leans back in his corner of the couch, putting his arms up behind his head as he does. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Kat whose eyes narrow and nostrils flare momentarily.
“We need two couples.”
Everyone exchanges confused looks for a second; Matt blows a kiss at Eva who frowns at him, then at Steve. “That’s you two, obviously,” I gesture at Lizzy and Jerry. “And you two.” I point at Mark and then at Kat. I know she won’t pass up this opportunity to battle Jerry at least figuratively.
Kat raises an eyebrow. “You’re aware we’re not—”
“You are for the next ten minutes,” I cut her off and look at Mark who’s the only contestant not already sitting on the couch. “Sit.”
“Novak doesn’t really like me much right now… It might be hazardous for my health to sit—”
“Just sit down,” Kat says quietly as if the volume is going to distract from the fact she just agreed to play pretend a couple with Mark. “This is gonna be stupid.”
“That’s the point,” I cackle. That and seeing just how compatible this future couple is.
Mark takes a seat next to Kat and the contrast between the two teams, let’s say, is hilariously stark: Lizzy is snuggled up against Jerry who’s looking a touch too relaxed, if you ask me… While Kat’s curled up with her chin on her knee and Mark is sitting with his ankles crossed, no part of the two of them touching one another.
“Okay. First question: how does your boyfriend or girlfriend take their coffee?”
I barely have enough time to finish the sentence when Mark and Kat answer at the exact same time.
“Intravenously.”
“With a gun to his head.”
Everyone laughs, then Matt and Eva join Steve and Dan at the dining table to watch this spectacle from there. I lower the magazine and look at Lizzy and Jerry. “Lizzy, same question.”
Lizzy doesn’t hesitate. “With milk.”
Jerry pauses and looks at her. “I usually drink coffee black, maybe some sugar…”
Lizzy frowns. “You don’t drink it black.”
“I do.”
“Youadd milk, I’ve seen you do it…”
“Sometimes.”
“Really? I thought you pretty much always add milk…”
Jerry shakes his head with a chuckle. “That’s not—”
Okay, let’s move on before this turns into a court case. “Order! Next question. Can your boyfriend or girlfriend cook? What’s their signature dish?”
Mark doesn’t even look at Kat. “Come on, these questions are a waste of paper.”
Kat tilts her head, deep in thought, by the looks of it. “Shockingly, he kind of can.” Everyone turns to her. “I mean, he can boil water. Did you guys know that?? He made me mac and cheese last week. He used sun dried tomatoes,” she adds for…clarification, I guess.
“Wait, was it that night you came home wearing his sweater?” Eva grins at Kat. Yes! Good job, Eva!
“Yes, now move it along. Lizzy?” Kat gestures over at her very demonstratively while Mark, I notice, sits quietly, looking extremely pleased.
“Umm…”
“Interesting,” I hear Steve say.
“Jerry, how about you take this one?” I look at the guy.
“You made really delicious scrambled eggs the other morning.”
“Eva made those…” Lizzy droops visibly. Wow. Rocky start…
“Alright, let me skip ahead to some more imaginative questions,” I say quickly as I scan down the list in the flickering light of candles. “Okay… Ah, what is their most used phrase? Lizzy, Jerry?”
They look at each other, the cogs in their heads obviously working overtime. “Hmm.”
“I can’t really think of anything,” Lizzy says.
“We don’t speak in catchphrases,” Jerry smiles at her.
“Boring but I guess we’ll count that. Kat, Mark?”
“Statistically speaking,” Mark starts, peering at Kat. “You swear a lot.”
“So do you,” she says slowly and I can tell she’s holding back an involuntary smile.
“That feels correct.”
“Yeah. Probably some variation of fuck.”
“Classic,” Mark grins.
“Actually, I’d like to make an amendment, if the judge will allow,” Kat perks up a little.
“Permission granted.”
“You,” she turns back to Mark, “say my last name a lot.”
There’s a general murmur of agreement from our audience at the dining table.
“I mean… Yeah.” Mark shrugs. Nothing else, no comment, just straightforward admittance.
“Also boring but very accurate… Next question! What does your partner think is a dealbreaker in a relationship?”
“There’s a laundry list,” Mark grins.
“Where do I begin…” Kat starts at the same time; everyone chuckles. “Wait, Mark… You do know this is a question about what you don’t tolerate, not what other people wouldn’t tolerate about you,” Kat pulls a funny face at him.
“Cheating then, I guess.”
“Ah. Very good. And boredom,” she adds.
“Yeah,” Mark nods. “Sustained boredom. Sexual acts, if we’re being more explicit on the cheating part. Cheating at cards is tolerated.”
A brief silence follows Mark’s clarification; Kat bites back a smug smile with her eyes darted to the floor. Surely, instead of staring Jerry square in the face.
“I’d say not putting in effort,” Lizzy speaks up. “You know, if someone’s not trying, not prioritizing the relationship.”
Jerry nods slowly. “Yeah, I mean… Sure.”
“Umm…” I mark down the points without voicing them. “Next: how important is money to them?”
Once again, Kat and Mark speak at the same time: “Not very.”
“Who are you answering for?”
“Him,” Kat points at Mark while he says ‘her’ at the same time. They could not be more in synch if they tried and they must be noticing it too because now they seem to make a deliberate point to not look at each other.
“And? Is it correct for both of you?” I grin at them.
“Sure,” Mark says while Kat shrugs and nods. Still not looking at each other.
Lizzy speaks up: “Not that important.”
“For…you?” Jerry looks at her.
“For you…”
“I mean,” he starts slowly, “It’s kind of important.”
“Not that important though, right?” Lizzy looks at him sweetly.
“It is if you don’t have any…”
“Next question,” I cut it off abruptly. Why on earth are these two trying to start a domestic dispute with every answer!? I thought they were good…I mean, aside from the obvious. “Okay, there we go… What do they value most in a relationship?”
“You value all the same things I do, I think,” Lizzy looks at her sweetheart as she answers. “You know, communication, respect, loyalty…”
Kat makes an abrupt sound that’s neither a cough nor a laugh. Jerry’s eyes flicker in the dimness as he shoots her a quick glance that goes unnoticed by Lizzy.
“Kat? Same question.”
“Getting laid, apparently,” she delivers in deadpan monotone.
“That’s a gross oversimplification.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kat finally looks at Mark -- with mock confusion. “What’s the nuanced version?”
“It’s a contributing factor,” he says with an ounce of uncertainty and a goofy smile. “It contributes to the value…”
“Wow. Poetry.”
“Okay, I have to give this point to Lizzy and Jerry so that’s…” I consult the tally I’m keeping on the bottom of the page, “five to one.”
“Five to one!?” Jerry doesn’t seem so relaxed anymore, poor guy. Kat though looks like she’s enjoying the game more and more.
“You’ll catch up. Next question… Ooh. Who holds grudges longer?”
There’s a pause, only Matt’s loud chewing is audible over the sound of the rainstorm for a moment. Then Jerry speaks. “Probably me.”
“Unfortunately,” Kat mumbles quietly but not enough so that it could be ignored.
“You say something?” Jerry leans forward to look at her around Lizzy while Lizzy in turn just whines Kat’s name.
“Me? I don’t think so,” Kat shrugs.
“Behave,” I look at her, then shuffle my attention to Mark. “Mark, same question.”
“I don’t know…”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to say for self-preservation purposes,” I wink at him. Kat rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Alright, moving on… Who starts arguments more?”
Once again, Jerry and Lizzy are frozen with hesitation. I’m sure neither one of them wants this answer to serve as the beginning of their next fight, so they both just shrug and mumble something about not fighting much. Mark and Kat, in the meantime, immediately point at each other.
“You start arguments about concepts, just to see what people will say,” Mark smirks at her.
“You start arguments about nothing at all, not even a solid concept behind it,” she laughs and, by the looks of it, they’re both in agreement.
“Moving on… Who has more exes?” I look at Lizzy and Jerry. Surely they can get this one right.
“Uh…”
“I’m not sure, actually,” Lizzy squints slightly.
“Maybe you?” Jerry shrugs.
“Why me??” Her voice goes up slightly.
“I don’t know, maybe I do?” He shrugs again. The ice is so painfully thin on that end of the couch…
“Kat?”
“Likely Mark.”
“Why me?” Mark laughs out staring at Kat.
“Sexual gratification has a much faster turnover rate than emotional connection,” she pulls her shoulders into a stiff shrug while Mark slowly turns his whole upper body to face her. This is actually hilarious.
“Why are you so upset that I said that?” He’s smiling at her. Yes, perfect. Less Lizzy and Jerry drama, more Mark and Kat! This is how it’s supposed to go!
“I’m not upset.”
“You seem upset.”
“You do,” I agree with Mark and earn myself a death glare from the redhead. “Okay, fine… We’ll get back to that later,” I cackle. “Next question! Who is more romantic?” Oh I can’t wait for Kat’s answer but first, I turn to Lizzy and Jerry.
“Me,” they both say at the same time.
“I mean, we both are, but it sort of comes with being the guy in a relationship. I’m supposed to woo you, not the other way around.”
“Is that what you call that?” Kat mumbles and Jerry sits up quickly again to look at her.
“You want to elaborate on that?”
“Disregard her, it’s a compulsion,” I assure him.
“It really is, I’ll stop…” Kat sinks into the couch a little as she mumbles with a guilty glance at Lizzy.
“Mark, Kat, same question.”
“Define romantic?” Mark looks at me.
“Definitely me, considering Mark revealed to us that he gets into relationships for the sole purpose of getting laid.”
“Oh my god, will you stop going on about that. Mark, just take your stupid words back so we can move on.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“I hate to be the one to point this out,” Eva starts, “but you did just break off a friends with benefits relationship recently. The benefits being kind of the whole basis of that sort of thing…”
“Next question!” Kat yells, making people laugh.
“Who’s more invested in the relationship?”
“Me,” Mark says immediately.
“Delusional,” Kat scoffs.
“I’ve been carrying this relationship emotionally.”
“I’ve been carrying it physically.”
“I’ve given you three beautiful boys,” Mark wipes a fake tear as he points at his bandmates with a dramatically wide sweep of his other hand.
“And it’s ruined your hip joints… Hence the physical carrying.”
“Okay you weirdos, I’ve heard enough… Lizzy, Jerry?” I look over at them.
Lizzy answers immediately. “We both are.”
Jerry hesitates, just slightly. “Yeah. I mean… Yeah.”
She turns to him with a soft smile. “What?”
“Nothing,” he says quickly. “Just… Yeah, both.”
“You hesitated,” she points out, still smiling, but it’s tighter now.
“I didn’t hesitate.”
“You did a little.”
“I was just thinking about the question.”
“It’s a pretty straightforward question.”
“Okay,” he exhales, a hint of ire creeping in. “Then yeah, we’re both equally invested.” Another pause.
“Great!” I clap my hands together. “Mutual investment. Love to see it. Now, what’s their biggest red flag?” I read the question out loud before I have time to process it. Oh no. Lizzy and Jerry better behave themselves or we’re throwing them a relationship intervention party.
“He uses humor as a social crutch,” Kat doesn’t miss a beat.
“She weaponizes insight,” Mark shoots back.
“That’s not a red flag, that’s a skill.”
“Not mutually exclusive.”
“I’m writing down ‘deeply concerning but wildly compatible’,” I say as I tap the page with my pen. “Lizzy, Jerry?”
“Only green flags here,” Jerry grins at his girlfriends – I think they have officially moved on to these terms since Lizzy took him back.
“I know you’re not gonna give me a good answer Lizzy,” I wrinkle my nose at her as she giggles. “So moving on, what does your boyfriend or girlfriend misunderstand about you?”
“I mean,” Jerry starts slowly. Oh come on, what do you mean!? “Probably a lot of things…”
“Really?” Lizzy looks at him alarmed.
“Just because we’re still getting to know each other… Not in any big, meaningful way, you know?”
“I guess… Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. I’d like to think I also understand a lot of things about you…”
“You definitely do,” Jerry smiles at her warmly as he rubs the back of her hand with his thumb. Lizzy seems like she accepts the answer. Finally, some normal young couple behavior.
“Come on, you two,” I shift my gaze to Mark and Kat. “Maybe something a little more real for an answer?”
“What do you mean, real?” Kat’s pitch goes up. “My answers have been very real.”
“You think I don’t take things seriously,” Mark says, his arms folded, gaze casually rested on his feet or the floor, can’t tell.
“That’s only because you don’t.”
“I do,” he says, short and simple. “Just not out loud.”
There’s a pause. I don’t think I’m the only one who feels like we’re suddenly witnessing a glimmer of something deeply personal here but nobody says anything.
“Okay,” Kat says, a touch softer, also looking somewhere in the vicinity of his feet. “That’s fair.”
“Kat?” I prod her on.
“Huh?” She looks up at me.
“Your answer?”
“Oh… Uh…” She squints slightly. “I don’t really have an answer…”
“Too many things to choose from?” Matt cackles from the dining table.
Kat steals a sideways glance at Mark, who’s still looking at anything but her. “No,” she says and I have a feeling I shouldn’t push this now. It’s that waiting a storm out by candlelight effect; it unties tongues.
“Okay, ah… These are getting very psychoanalytical… What is your boyfriend or girlfriend most insecure about?”
“Your job.”
Jerry blinks. “My…what?”
“Your job, you always downplay it, you always say it’s just temporary—”
“Because it is temporary,” he cuts Lizzy off.
“Okay, yeah, but that doesn’t mean—”
“I’m really not insecure about it.”
“I didn’t mean it like a bad—”
“Then how did you mean it?” Jerry cuts her off for the third time in a row and, honestly, the guy needs to chill a little bit, considering he’s on probation as far as I’m concerned.
“I just thought—” she starts, then stops with a slight shake of her head and a smile. “Never mind.”
“Alright!” I clap once, loudly. “Jerry, your turn, what is Lizzy secretly insecure about?”
Jerry exhales through his nose, leaning back. “I don’t know… probably that people don’t take her seriously.”
Lizzy freezes. “What?”
“No?” he shrugs.
“I can’t say that that’s something I think about or struggle with, no…”
“Alright!” I practically yell. There is going to be a big debrief later tonight when all the guys leave. “Moving on! Kat?”
“You act like you don’t give a shit about anything, but it’s very…curated,” she looks at Mark sideways and he finally peels his eyes off the floor.
“Curated?” Mark asks sounding both offended and amused.
“Yeah,” Kat shrugs, “you care about people and things, just not in a way that makes you look like you care. I’m sure there’s childhood trauma buried beneath it all, as beneath most things.”
“Curated… Okay…” I can’t tell if Mark is upset by this or… I mean, it kind of sounds like Kat is right. I can’t tell if Mark cares about what she said or not at all.
“Mark?” I remember I’m the host after a lengthy pause.
“You don’t want to ask people for things so you don’t seem needy.” Mark delivers it so flatly, so matter-of-factly, that it almost slips by unnoticed. That’s a bullseye answer, honestly. He’s only known Kat for a few months and he figured something out about her that it took me a couple of years to learn. “You act like you’re low maintenance but you’re not.”
Suddenly, violently almost, the lights snap back on, causing everyone to squint and groan. Everyone starts shuffling and getting up; Kat makes a beeline for the bathroom while Mark gets up from the couch and then just stands there, like he’s not fully committed to either staying or leaving. And just like that, the spell breaks, like whatever weird little bubble we were in just popped.
PREVIOUSLY: Jeff accuses Eva – albeit playfully – of not locking up Raison the night before, and inadvertently gets on her bad side once again; Gwen’s embassy job celebration turns messy when a series of unfortunate run ins with exes occurs; among other things, Kristine is overheard claiming that her and Mark’s relationship fell apart because of Kat; in the meantime, many blocks away, Jerry is meeting up with his ex as well and things take an unexpected turn when alcohol is brought to the table.
I kind of expected Jerry to call last night… I mean, he knew we were all going out but I thought he’d call after meeting up with Dee and leave me a message. Instead, it’s almost two in the afternoon and I still haven’t heard from him. I hope he’s okay… I mean, why wouldn’t he be!? I just don’t understand what would keep him from giving me just a quick call to update me… We haven’t explicitly discussed it but I think it’s pretty obvious that I was invested in him meeting with his ex and getting closure, and I think it would only be fair that he’d make a point to let me know how it went.
Instead, I’m sat on the edge of my bed with the telephone in my lap, dialing his number.
“Hello?” Jerry’s the one to answer after a while.
“Hey, it’s Lizzy…”
“Oh, uh, hey,” he clears his throat. “What’s up?”
What’s up? “Uh… I… I’m just calling to say hi. How are you?”
“Yeah… Hey… I’m doing well, how ‘bout yourself?” He’s really acting like we have nothing to talk about??
“I’m well too. So how did last night go?”
“Oh… Uh, it was fine…” He mumbles.
“Just fine? Were you not satisfied?”
“What?!”
“I mean… Do you not feel like you got closure?” I clarify since he sounds weirdly alarmed.
“Oh, yeah… I mean… No, it’s definitely and absolutely over and we’re both happier for it.”
“Are you glad you saw her in person though?” I prod him on for some more information. I just can’t really tell what his mood is.
“Uh, sure. She told me she’s seeing someone, too.”
“Oh, good!” I say maybe a touch too cheerfully. I mean, am I glad their relationship is dead? Yeah, but I don’t necessarily need to rejoice over it like that. “So, what are you up to today?”
“Uh, I’m kinda busy, actually… Band stuff.”
“Did I wake you up? You kinda sound like you just woke up…”
“Yeah, actually…” He admits abashedly. “I did just wake up not too long ago. Saturdays…”
“Did you stay up late?”
“What? No! I just… I’m not feeling too good.”
“Oh no, are you getting sick?”
“I might be…”
“Should I come over? I could bring you some soup! We could hang out, maybe watch a movie?”
“No! I mean, I can’t, like I said… I’ll have some stuff to take care of…”
“Well, don’t overwork yourself if you’re not feeling well…”
“I won’t. Hey,” his voice softens now, “I really, really like you, you know,” I can hear a smile in his tone. “Just the sound of your voice sets me up for a great day. Sorry if I sound weird… I’m just tired and…you know, a little under the weather.”
“That’s okay, I hope you feel better soon. When do you think we can see each other?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything else.
“Uh… I’m not sure… I mean, I want to see you! But…can I call you tomorrow?”
“Sure…”
“Okay. Thanks… I uh… I gotta go now.”
“Bye..?”
He hangs up with a click before the beeping in my ear starts. That was odd…
“Wait, so what did Will want with you?” I walk out of my bedroom right as Eva asks a very good question, the answer to which I am also very curious to hear. We’ve already discussed Gwen’s night in pretty explicit detail, multiple times. But Kat hasn’t really said anything about her encounter with her ex.
“I think he just wanted to brag about his life,” Kat shrugs almost imperceptibly as she squints at the ends of Eva’s hair, draped over the backrest of a chair. I still don’t understand why Eva trusts Kat to trim her hair but it’s been a thing for a couple of years now and I guess it typically turns out pretty good… Still, I would never trust my hair to be cut by any of the geeks. It’s a professionals only zone. “He’s with Simone now…”
“Simone? The same Simone from UW?” Eva asks.
“Yeah and they both seemed very put together and very grown up and they’re both making a lot of money…I think. So it seems he just wanted to make that known by me.”
“Pathetic,” Gwen, who’s reading a magazine at our dining table, mumbles. At this, Kat shoots her a smug little smirk. “Shut the fuck up, Kat. Hey Lizzy, what did Jerry say?”
“He’s not feeling well.” I walk over to our dining table where Gwen’s perched up on a chair with a bowl of cereal and a magazine in front of her.
“Hungover?” Eva asks without moving her head to look over here.
“No, just a bit sick, I guess… I don’t know, he was acting kind of strange. He didn’t even ask about my night…”
“So what did he say?” Gwen repeats.
“That he slept in today because he’s feeling off and that he’s busy and will call me tomorrow… He said Dee is seeing someone new and that it seems she’s moved on from their relationship… That was pretty much it.”
“So when are you seeing him again?”
“I don’t know, he said he’ll call me tomorrow.”
“Huh…”
“What do you mean?!”
“I just said ‘huh’,” Gwen shrugs.
“Yeah, but I know you’re thinking more than that.”
“I don’t know, I don’t want to project. Maybe he really is getting sick.”
Yeah, I also don’t want to project. I think maybe we’re a little biased, maybe I’m just feeling like something’s off because of what happened with Mike and Gwen… Or rather Mike and Kristine. Ugh. Jerry is so not like his friend though. I know this for a fact and if he says he’s not feeling well and that he’ll call me tomorrow, then we’ll talk tomorrow.
“Projection is kind of a big hobby of yours,” Kat mutters.
Gwen lets out a half-hearted snort without looking up. “I’m just saying… if I had just gotten closure with my ex, I probably wouldn’t spend the next day sleeping until two in the afternoon.”
“But he’s getting sick, sleeping a lot makes sense,” Eva says calmly.
Gwen sighs, flips the magazine shut and looks up at me, “did he sound happy?”
I pause.
“I mean… yeah?”
“You’re asking me,” she points out.
“Well he said he was happy they got closure.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I hesitate again. “He sounded… tired. H e said he really likes me,” I say defensively now. “And that hearing my voice makes his day better.”
Gwen arches her eyebrows slightly. “I’m just saying, if he doesn’t call tomorrow, we riot.”
“We are not rioting,” I say.
“I could riot a little,” I hear Kat say as she keeps her concentrated squint on the back of Eva’s hair.
“You’re not rioting either!”
Eva sighs.
“I am absolutely not cleaning up after a riot.”
Gwen grins. “Fine. We’ll deal with it in different ways.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help smiling a little. “He’s going to call tomorrow,” I say, really speaking more to myself than my friends.
“Okay,” Gwen says easily.
But she still gives me that look. The one that says she’s not completely convinced. And now, unfortunately, neither am I.
* * *
“I’m kind of glad I couldn’t go out last night,” Eva muses out loud, “all these exes coming out of the woodworks, who knows what would have happened,” she laughs. “I don’t know that I could currently handle seeing any of the guys I’ve been with…”
“Seriously, that was a weird fucking night. The moon must be full,” Kat mumbles but doesn’t make any more remarks or allusions to the Mike incident specifically, which I’m grateful for. I don’t think I was that drunk, and yet, how else could I explain making out with that cockroach?? What a night…
Somebody – three guesses who – rattles the handle of our apartment door before knocking vigorously, since it’s locked.
“Hey Mark!” Lizzy swings the door open a moment later.
“What’s with the locking of the doors?”
None of us respond verbally; the four of us just sigh, click our tongues, and roll our eyes, which gets a chuckle out of our neighbor.
“What’s going on here? Satanic sacrifice?” He nods at Eva sitting on a chair in the middle of the room with a trash bag cape covering her body.
“Close. Quarterly hair trim,” the girl explains.
“Ooh, do me next, Novak! Wow. That sounded very innuendo-y, didn’t it? A Freudian slip, some would say.”
“Coming in hot…” Eva laughs out with slight concern in her eyes, trying not to move her head.
“Mark has a crush on Kat,” I whisper as I lean in towards Lizzy; so quietly and quickly that only she would be able to hear me say anything.
“He does?” She lands her eyes on our neighbor who’s walking over to our fridge with a strangely annoyed crease between his eyebrows.
“Of course. Just look at how he acts around her.”
“Weirdly and inappropriately? The cornerstones of their entire friendship,” Lizzy shrugs. “What do you mean?”
“Just… Just watch him, I’m sure he’s bound to do it again any second now.”
“Do what?”
“Just watch,” I nudge her and we both fall silent while Mark pours himself a glass of milk and starts going through our kitchen cabinets until he finds Eva’s cookies.
I don’t think I’m imagining this. I’ve seen enough guys dance around a completely oblivious Kat; the poor souls. It’s like she has this invisible wall that only a few men have penetrated before giving up and moving on. They all assume that with a few (not always so) subtle hints here and there, she’ll figure out that they’re interested in her. Like normal people typically do before they start dating. But no. Not Kat. Just about the only times I’ve witnessed her admit that a guy is in fact into her, she’s always had a plethora of reasons as to why it’s not going to work: he’s too short, too hairy, too much of a smartass, not enough of a smartass, too positive, doesn’t know enough about her interests, is confused about liking her due to a concussion… The list is ever-growing. Although more often than not, she just doesn’t realize somebody’s into her at all. When I first met her, I thought it was an act, but no, nope, Kat just really is that dumb. She’d hardly figure out a guy likes her if he hired a plane to drag a giant ‘I love you Katie Novak’ banner across the sky.
And I think Mark’s doing the dance now. Their friendship has had a strong stench of weird and inappropriate since day one, yes. But now there’s a pretty obvious sexual undertone to it. He keeps saying stuff to Kat that I’ve never noticed before, and I don’t think it was there before. Sure, it’s always in a joking way, but the substance of his jokes is now more reminiscent of the kind of shit Lukin says. And it’s only ever directed at Kat. I mean, do me next? A Freudian slip? Come on! That kind of stuff has never been a part of their dynamic before. I would have sniffed it out.
“I don’t understand, what are we waiting for?”
“Lizzy, patience is a virtue,” I grin at her, and just then, Mark walks over to Kat’s popup salon in the middle of the room, pinches a strand of her hair into a kind of a little loop, from what I can tell, and dips it into his milk. Only then does she react:
“Why. Why must you be like this…” She side eyes him while he flicks a soggy chunk of a cookie from her hair into his own mouth.
“I needed to retrieve a drowning cookie,” he shrugs with a smirk.
“Spoons, Mark. I’ll show you how to use them later,” Eva mumbles without peeling her eyes off a textbook in her lap while Kat’s rubbing the ends of her hair between her sleeves and sniffing them.
“Spoons are overrated. My milk could have used some Novak flavor in it for that extra ginger kick anyway.” Mark goes over to the couch.
“That. You see?” I widen my eyes at Lizzy.
“Gwen,” she sighs out, “the amount of times I’ve seen Mark smear, splash, dribble, or do anything else with food to Kat… Again, weird and inappropriate.”
“Yes. But—”
“What are you two whispering about over there?” Kat throws us a suspicious glance.
“Boys and stuff,” Lizzy answers with a big grin, without missing a beat, which seems to satisfy our friend’s curiosity.
“But did he ever follow that with announcing to the room that he basically wants to taste Kat?” I whisper again, once Kat diverts her attention elsewhere, and Lizzy’s face plunges into a thoughtful frown for a moment.
“Wait… I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did,” she whispers barely audibly. “But…are we sure?”
“This statement about wanting to taste her is not the first thing he’s said in the last few days that, quite honestly, I wish I didn’t have to hear. Besides, single men, especially freshly single men, don’t call single women every night out of innocent friendliness. We’re pretty sure.”
“This is exciting!” Lizzy claps her hands together softly with a chuckle.
Yeah. But also, poor Mark. And. He’s gazing at Kat. Just watching her cut Eva’s hair, frozen still, the glass of milk resting on his knee. Okay, yeah. Of course he’s gazing at her. And so the dance begins.
“Hey Mark,” Lizzy raises her voice. “If you were in a movie, who’d you want to play your leading lady?”
Mark looks over at her with a slightly baffled look in his eyes while lifting his glass halfway up. “Huh?”
“How about Lea Thompson?” She prods him on – there just was a preview of Casual Sex? on TV… But I’m a little lost as to what this line of question is getting at. Lizzy’s mind does work in mysterious ways.
“Does it have to be a lady? I’d rather have River Phoenix. Does that count?” Mark grins at her.
“You know, I have heard that a lot of cowboys were gay back in the day… Could be a period romance story,” Kat suggests, which causes Lizzy to roll her eyes (facing away from Kat, who’s got her eyes on Eva’s hair in her hand anyway).
“Would you say you’re ready to date again?” Lizzy looks at Mark as if that’s something this clown would ever answer honestly, especially in front of this audience.
“I wouldn’t actually say anything Lizzy.”
“It’s healthy to talk about these things, you know. You need to talk about your feelings to be able to navigate through them. And you do know that our apartment is a safe space, right? You can—”
“You know what,” Mark jumps up from the couch, “I just remembered, I gotta go... I feel my estrogen levels going up just from being in this room and my doctor said if it goes any higher, I’ll get my period soon,” he says as he walks over to the sink to rinse out his milk cup. No dish soap, no sponge, just water. Ew.
“What’s with the weird questions?” I whisper at Lizzy while Mark’s chatting with Kat and Eva on his way out.
“I don’t know, I thought it’d be fun to rattle him a little,” she grins. “Make him have another Freudian slip.”
“You’re not much of a rattler, Lizzy.”
“I guess not,” she laughs with me.
* * *
I don’t know how this always ends up happening, but while Eva goes to take a shower after the haircut, the three of us find ourselves in her bedroom. It’s always like this. Gwen’s bedroom is the smallest so we can hardly all fit in there, Lizzy’s bed is usually covered in either fresh laundry or dirty clothes, and I don’t let anyone eat on my bed (Lizzy’s had too many accidents) so that rules my bedroom out as well. So we just always end up hanging out in Eva’s. Plus, she has a gazillion candles in here and lights them almost religiously, almost every night, so we often flock to the room like hypnotized moths.
I’m sitting with my legs curled up on the chair at Eva’s desk, flipping through one of her textbooks, when she storms in:
“My backne is coming back!” She wails and turns around to show us the inflamed bumps of skin around her shoulders and upper back visible above the towel she’s clutching around herself.
The rest of us all exchange looks. This is exactly what Gwen, Lizzy, and I have been saying lately – Eva needs a break. She’s getting burnt out. It’s been a long year for her, what with working at the lab and then slinging espresso shots, which in and of itself requires a doctorate in dealing with the general population…
“I’m sure all that sweating isn’t helping.” She’s obviously talking about basketball. She keeps dropping hints about leaving the basketball team but never actually does it, and I think it may be time. It started out as a way to let off steam but has obviously become a chore.
“You need to quit basketball,” Gwen voices what the three of us are thinking. Really, the four of us, I’m sure.
“Yeah, you need time to just kick back and relax,” Lizzy adds.
“It’s almost summer break, I’ll have plenty of time for that…”
“Come on, just tell them you can no longer commit to showing up regularly,” I say.
“Seriously, use the summer break to rest. You’ll still have to work, I’m sure you’ll still spend hours every week doing…something science-y. Just let go of this one thing, Eva,” Gwen makes a good point.
“Ugh… I don’t…” Sigh. “I mean…” Impatient sigh. “I like playing basketball, I like that I can move my body and—”
“Just start jogging more,” I cut her off. “On your own time, whenever you feel like it.”
“Start dancing and having sex more!” Gwen laughs.
“Well… It has been a while… But… Whatever… I have to get dressed…”
“What do we do?” Gwen looks at me and Lizzy the moment Eva walks back out of the room.
“We make her quit basketball,” I say, at which Lizzy narrows her eyes but then sighs and nods.
“She needs a day off to process it though,” Gwen closes the latest magazine she’s been flipping through on the bed and tosses it aside.
“Does she ever have days off?”
“I don’t think so…”
“She just has a morning shift at Raison on Friday,” Lizzy points at a page of Eva’s planner that she’s holding open for us to see.
I let out a long slow breath as I squint at it. “I can probably get her out of that shift, so then we can have the entire day blocked out.”
“How will you get her out of work?”
“I’ll ask for Jeff’s help.”
Gwen and Lizzy gasp at the exact same time and then the three of us laugh. I’ll bake something for him and I’ll make a good case about how nobody wants Eva to end up a serial killer. If he can’t take her shift, I’m pretty confident I can convince him to help me ask someone else to do it. I’ll even employ Stone to aide me in this task if I have to.
* * *
“Hello?” A female voice answers the phone. “Hello?” She repeats again since I don’t say anything and now I can discern that it’s Kat who’s speaking.
“Hey, Kat,” I croak and clear my throat. “It’s Jerry. How are ya?”
“Been better but who hasn’t. And you?”
“I’m doing well. Is Lizzy there?”
“Yeah, lemme get her for you.” She sounds so at ease, so… I don’t know, not necessarily cheerful… But when I tell Lizzy what happened, I’m sure she’ll tell her friends, and I’m sure any future interactions will have a very different tone.
I can’t believe it. I can’t believe myself. I never meant for anything like that to happen… I didn’t even want to see Dee! I mean… It’s confusing… I hadn’t been intimate with her since before she moved… At some point it just added to feeling like…like our relationship wasn’t real anymore, like it was just words, just play pretend… And then we broke up. And that was that! I wanted nothing more to do with it…
I didn’t want a drunken fuckin’ blowjob from my ex. I had moved on; in my heart, I truly feel like I had move on, and… Yes, seeing her brought back some of the memories and some of the feelings… But just as a thing of the past! I definitely didn’t change my mind about our break up. Or about Lizzy. I know what I want. But then this happened… And now I have to deal with this fucking mess.
Demri made everyone vote, as she does. Show of hands. What the fuck, right!? And everyone said I should just move on and never mention anything to Lizzy. ‘You're not technically together yet, so you didn’t cheat.’ Unbelievable! I mean, I guess it’s not shocking coming from some of my friends… But that’s just not me. I really don’t wanna fuck up like Mike… I mean, obviously the situation is very different! But… I know what I want and I know who I am. I don’t want to hide it. I don’t want to start a relationship with her like that, on a lie.
“Hey, Jerry,” Lizzy’s voice drags me out of my head.
“Hey you, it’s so good to hear your voice.”
“Did you not have time to call me earlier in the day?” She asks sweetly. “I mean, I know we never agreed on what time you’d call but…it’s almost 7pm.”
“Sorry…” I’ve been putting this moment off, to be honest. All day, I’ve been coming up with things to do before calling her. “I… I spent all day beating myself up… I have something to tell you, Lizzy…” I realize I’m gripping the phone receiver so tightly, my knuckles are probably turning white.
“Is everything okay?” A tinge of worry in her voice now.
“Yes… Well… I fucked up. Listen,” I start speaking quicker. “I think you are amazing and you make me feel like I’m flying. Everything I’ve ever said to you, I meant.”
“Jerry, of course I know that you’re always honest with me. I have no reason to doubt that. Right?”
“You don’t, I swear… But what I’m about to say… I know how it looks…”
“What happened??”
“So Dee and I met up and it was kind of awkward actually… And then we realized that the coffee shop served alcohol and decided to toast to our new beginnings or whatever… And… Fuck, I’m sorry, Lizzy…”
“Oh my gosh! Did you sleep together!?”
“No!! I swear we didn’t! But,” I lower my voice back down, unwittingly burying my face in my free hand, “when we got into a taxi… And the guy was going to drop her off first and then me, I swear! So we both got in and…she…wanted to give me a blowjob and I let her…”
“What…” Lizzy whispers, audibly stunned.
“Liz, I’m so sorry, please forgive me,” I hear myself whine, my forehead pressed against my hand.
“I… Don’t know what to say…”
“All day I was dreading talking to you because I knew I have to tell you and I just hated the idea of hurting you… You don’t deserve this, but I swear, if you give me another chance, I will never in our lives do anything like this again.” I’m speaking faster than I think. I don’t know how to explain to her how sorry I am, and then I hear myself speak again. “I understand if maybe you don’t want to talk to me right now but-”
“Yeah, I need a minute to think about all this…” She speaks slowly, her words – sharp daggers in my chest. Not that I don’t deserve them. I’m a goddamn bastard. It’s fucked up but I can't deny that in the moment it felt like I needed to have some kind of weird final closure. I should have said no, I should have stopped her.
I just hope that Lizzy can understand… Fuck. Would I understand? I don’t think so… I guess that makes me a hypocrite; but I do hope she can hear me out and understand that this is all in the past now and that I want to be with her only. I’m a wiser man after making this mistake.
“I’ll call you later, okay…”
“Yeah, totally,” I assure her. “I’ll be home all night…”
“Maybe not today, Jerry…”
“Oh yeah, that’s fine. Of course… Do you want to ask me anything? I don’t want to hide anything, I swear…”
“Actually… How drunk were you? Both?”
“Pretty fucking drunk… Not that it excuses my actions… I just…hadn’t eaten much that day…”
Then, a long silence. The kind where you can practically hear a person stepping away from you. I grip the receiver tighter.
“Lizzy?”
She exhales slowly.
“I just… I’m trying to picture it,” she says quietly.
My stomach drops.
“I know,” I say quickly. “I know it sounds horrible. And it is horrible. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”
“Did you want it to happen?” she asks.
The question hits me hard. “No,” I say immediately. “No, I didn’t. It just… happened so fast. She leaned over and— I should’ve stopped her. I should have. I just didn’t think.”
Another pause.
“So you just… sat there?” Lizzy says faintly.
God.
“I know how that sounds.”
“It sounds like you didn’t stop her.”
“I didn’t, but I didn’t start anything either. Lizzy, I swear to you, I didn’t plan that. I didn’t go there wanting anything like that.”
“Did you kiss her?”
“No.”
“Did you go home with her?”
“No! God, no. The taxi dropped her off first and that was it. I went straight home.”
“And you haven’t talked to her since?”
“No.”
Another long silence.
I can hear something faint on her end — maybe the TV, maybe one of her roommates moving around the apartment.
“Liz…” I say softly.
“Yeah.”
“I really, really like you.” My voice cracks a little despite myself. “I know I screwed up. I know I did. But I told you because I don’t want to start anything with you on a lie. I couldn’t do that.”
She doesn’t answer right away. When she finally speaks, her voice is smaller. “I appreciate that you told me.” That somehow makes it worse. “I just… need some time to think about it.”
“Of course,” I say quickly. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Jerry,” Lizzy says quickly and hangs up. Fucking shit.
I stay there holding the receiver for a few seconds longer, listening to the flat, empty tone. Finally I hang it up and drop onto the edge of the couch. I feel like I’ve just been punched in the stomach.
“Well?” Demri’s voice comes from the kitchen.
I drag a hand down my face. “I told her.”
“And?”
“She didn’t scream,” I say weakly.
“That’s good.”
“Yeah,” I mutter.
Except it doesn’t feel good. It feels like the moment right before a bomb goes off.
* * *
“I mean, I hate to say this, but you’re not yet officially together. You’re the one who set this rule. So, the fact that he told you about it, I think, reflects really well on him. He could have just hid it,” Gwen trails off for a second. “But it seems like he wants to build a relationship based in honesty and communication.”
“Are you fucking serious!?” Kat snorts, eyes popping out of her face.
“You don’t agree?” I look at her.
“I think you should dump his fucking ass,” she says so coldly, I can feel a chill on the back of my neck. “I can’t believe that you,” she shoots a look at Gwen, “would say otherwise.”
“Look,” Gwen responds with the same mean look at her, “you know I’m the last person to forgive easily. This is different though. I don’t love it but I think given the situation, if Lizzy wants to, it’s totally okay to give him a second chance.”
As soon as I was done talking to Jerry, I came out here and told Gwen and Kat about what happened. I have to say, I was shocked when Gwen stayed quiet for a while and finally said something about how she had a feeling something was up and he clearly fucked up really badly but that she really respects him telling me the truth. I mean, I agree with her! I think… I just didn’t expect that she’d hold this opinion… And me… I just… I can’t think. I don’t know what I really think but I just need my friends to be there for me and help me process this. It’s just so…overwhelming.
“Gwen made a really good point, we haven’t even officially started dating s—”
“Officially? What does that even mean??” Kat widens her eyes at me even more. “You’re going to go to the courthouse to commence your relationship, officially?”
“Okay, you’re not really being helpful at all right now.”
“Well… You asked for our opinions and I think it’s fucked up that he’d meet up with his ex at your request and end up receiving a blowjob from her. What the fuck is that?”
“It’s a long distance relationship is what it was, okay?!” I hear my own voice go up a notch. “It’s confusing and messy is what it is, but he came out and told me about it and that has to count for something.”
“So next time he does some—”
“Come on, Kat,” Gwen interrupts her while pulling her denim jacket on. “This is not about next time and it’s not about diagnosing him as a cheater. He fucked up and he was honest about it. That takes guts and integrity. Obviously he’ll have to be on his best behavior and regain Lizzy’s full trust through a long, arduous process, but I think this really painful honesty is the first step towards that… Okay, I’m sorry Lizzy, but I gotta go,” she grabs her purse, runs over to me to give me a quick hug, and rushes out the door, leaving a heavy uncomfortable silence behind.
“Seriously, I don’t know how you could trust him after this.” Kat shrugs with a pointed look.
“Obviously, I know he fucked up but the fact that he told me about it actually makes me trust him more.”
“No offense, but that’s so dumb…”
“Why can’t you just keep your opinions to yourself just once and say something helpful instead?”
“You asked for my opinion,” Kat enunciates staring at me as if I’m the stupidest person on this planet.
“Sometimes it’s more important to be kind than to be honest, Kat. I confided in you because I needed support, not judgment.”
“Well…” She falters slightly. “If you want someone to recite exactly what you want to hear then you probably shouldn’t have asked me. I want to help you, Lizzy, I want to be there for you but I can’t lie to you and say that I think it’s totally fine that Jerry’s out theregetting fiddled with by his ex,” she concludes with a shrug and I just hate her choice of words. Ugh.
“You’re right, I shouldn’t have asked you anything. I mean, you couldn’t even say ‘I love you’ back to your boyfriend! What on earth made me think you’re the person to talk to about heavy relationship stuff like that, I don’t freaking know!”
I watch Kat’s eyes cloud over with some kind of emotion, who the hell knows what kind exactly – the only indication that I’ve said something that really struck a nerve. And I don’t care! I’m so mad, how can she be so cold!? I came to her as a friend and she’s treating me like one of her stupid English essays, like I’m some character from one of her books that she can dissect on a piece of paper with no consideration of my actual darn feelings. Ugh!
Kat just stands there for a second, then exhales slowly through her nose. “Fine,” she says quietly. “You want support? I hope he treats you exactly how you let him.” She grabs her keys from the coffee table and turns on her heel.
“You’re such a… Ugh! Where are you going?” I ask.
“Out,” she says shortly.
“Well good!”
“Great.”
The door slams harder than necessary behind her. For a moment the apartment is completely silent. I stand there in the middle of the room feeling like I’ve just been punched in the chest. Then I realize my eyes are filling up with tears. I really wish I didn’t have to be alone right now…
“Great,” I mutter to myself and walk over to the phone. If Kat’s going to be completely impossible, I need a normal person to talk to. I dial my cousin’s number. She picks up on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey… It’s me.”
“Lizzy! Hey! What’s up? I was just packing boxes.”
“Are you seriously still packing?” I sniff.
“Girl, I’m moving across the country in two weeks. There are a lot of boxes to pack.”
“Right.”
She pauses. “Why do you sound like you’ve been crying?”
“I’m not crying,” I say automatically.
“Lizzy.”
“Okay maybe a little.”
“What happened?”
So I tell her. The whole thing. About Jerry meeting Dee, the taxi, the confession, the argument with Kat — all of it. She listens without interrupting. When I finally stop talking she sighs softly.
“Well…”
“What?”
“You weren’t even dating yet.”
“That’s what Gwen said!”
“And you said you guys had barely even kissed so far.”
“We made out,” I correct weakly.
“Okay, made out. My point still stands.”
“So you think I’m overreacting?”
“No, no… I think he messed up,” she says. “But he also told you the truth about it immediately, which is more than a lot of guys would do.”
“That’s what I said!”
“And it sounds like he really likes you.”
“He does.”
“So if you like him too,” she says gently, “I don’t see why this has to be the end of the world.”
I exhale slowly.
“Thank you.”
“Just talk to him. See what happens.”
* * *
“So,” Stone leans over to swing the passenger door open, ready to dive into some kind of a tirade, by the looks of it, “when you called, it sounded like you needed to see Jeff. Was that just bad phone connection or have you started doing street drugs?”
I fucking love this guy. “Close but neither, actually. I need to ask him for a favor for Eva that she doesn’t know about.”
“Ah. That makes way more sense, I should have known,” Stone bobs his head as he pulls out into the traffic.
“Eva’s so stressed.”
“’Cause of…Jeff?”
“No, Stone,” I laugh while flipping thorough radio stations all at the same time. “Because of school, work, basketball, all that jazz.”
“So kind of because of Jeff.”
“Sure. We’re taking her out for a hike… I know, it’s weird, but she loves wandering around in the woods as a pastime activity so we’re blocking a…”
“’We’ as in geeks?”
“Yeah.” We as in geeks. Three normal people and me, a dickhead who kicks my friends when she’s already down… It’s been two days and Lizzy and I somehow managed to only cross paths a couple of times for a few minutes… And neither one of us said anything to the other. At one point she just stood there completely silent and stoney faced and just waited for me to be done doing my dishes. Almost like I wasn’t even there, like she was frozen in time, and then as soon as I stepped away from the sink, she became reanimated and resumed going about her business. She looked so mad and hurt… “We’re blocking out a day where she won’t have anything to do. No work, no school, no basketball, just cavorting in the rainy woods with endless snacks.” How are we going to have this beautiful relaxing day when there’s this much shitty tension in the air, I don’t know…
“Nice. Fuck Jeff and his basketballs. Isn’t she going to get tired of cavorting though?”
“Middle Eastern food and a movie to end the night. Candlelit and all.”
“Wow. My friends really need to step it the fuck up… Hey, you’re looking for a new job, right?” He changes course dizzyingly suddenly.
“Yes…”
“I know someone who’s looking to hire. You might actually be a really good fit.”
“How so?”
“You know how to spell things.”
“Okay… Whose business are you meddling in now?”
“Nobody’s, swear to god.”
“God doesn’t really have much weight on your lips, Stone.”
“Ha! See? Perfect for the job. I have a couple of friends who started a zine recently. It’s going well and they’re looking for more help with it. It’s super part time,” he goes on without tearing his eyes off the road. I’m listening. “Some writing, some editing, some fetching coffee probably. The pay is not great but if you’re looking to pivot in that direction, I thought you might be interested anyway.”
I am, but… Lucky for me, Stone is not the most perceptible of people so he doesn’t seem to notice me drifting in and out of our conversation during the drive. The whole time, I keep thinking about Lizzy. It’s unfathomable to me that anyone would tolerate what Jerry did… But really, I guess it’s just me. I guess I just can’t imagine that anyone who would cheat on me in any way would actually care about me. It’s just a total deal breaker for me and if I think about it some more, I think it’s got more to do with my self esteem than with Jerry or Lizzy. And who am I to judge them? My relationships have been flawed in a plethora of ways that I know Lizzy finds outrageous.
When we get to Stone’s attic apartment, the rest of Mother Love Bone guys – except for Andy - are already there; snacking, chatting, fiddling with various instruments and equipment. I say my ‘hi’s and make a beeline for Jeff.
“You brought bribery?” Stone, who’s followed me over, peers at a little bundle of wax paper I just pulled out from my bag.
“Hi Jeff. These are lemon ricotta cookies,” I grin and his attention locks onto the thing in my hands immediately.
“Ah,” Stone nods seriously. “The nuclear option.”
“What do you want?” Jeff eyes me and Stone suspiciously.
“Nothing huge,” I say cheerfully.
“That’s what people say before asking huge things.”
“I was wondering if you could cover Eva’s shift tomorrow or…”
Jeff doesn’t even blink. “Yeah, sure.”
“Wait—Really?”
“Yeah.”
Stone laughs immediately. “You didn’t even negotiate.”
Jeff shrugs. “She deserves a break. Also these smell illegal,” he says as he grabs the bundle from my grip.
“Thank you.”
“Best work shift trade I’ve ever made,” he mumbles with a mouth already full of cookie and a giddy grin on his face.
“Excellent.” I nod slowly. Someone should keep an eye on him in case a Heimlich maneuver is in order. “Not that I don’t appreciate it… But why are you so quick to agree? For all you knew, the cookies could have sucked.
“I… Have a feeling Eva’s been pretty annoyed with me lately.”
“Ah. I wouldn’t take it personally if I were you.” Or maybe I would. I thought Eva liked Jeff, which was a new thing in and of itself, but then more recently, she does seem to have reversed to thinking he’s a total idiot.
I didn’t stay much longer. Instead, I decide to fix what I broke with Lizzy, for which I’ll need some kind of dessert… It’s already too late in the day for baked goods, all the bakeries will have either stale leftovers or nothing at all… I could do ice cream but it doesn’t feel special enough. Ice cream is more of a ‘cheer up’ than ‘I’m a fucking asshole and I’m so sorry’ type of treat. What should I get her, I wonder as I make my way downstairs after saying bye to everyone – still no Andy. As soon as I step out of the garage – Stone’s private entrance – I discover the singer of the band having a smoke with honestly the most comically inconvenient group of characters - Starr, Chris, and Sean. Chris’ dog Lucy is also there, barking at a squirrel in a tree.
“Ah Seattle’s finest, what a lovely surprise.” I feel unexpected laughter bubble in the pit of my stomach as I make eye contact with Mike and then Chris. “Hey Andy, hey Sean.”
“Uh-huh…” Mike nods his head almost imperceptibly and immediately looks away while Sean raises his hand in a stiff wave at me. Somehow the fact that Mike’s wearing a Louder Than Love t-shirt only adds to the absurdity of the situation.
“Are they already talking about guillotining me? I’m only fifteen minutes late!” Andy cackles, puts something in his pocket, and swooshes past me in all his caped and scarfed glory, into the garage.
“So we meet again.” Chris seems pleased, or amused. Delighted even.
“Let’s pretend we don’t know each other,” I joke because what the fuck else is there to do!?
“So you’re not in the mood to discuss my Whitman fetish today?”
“Not necessarily,” I shrug, laughter simmering inside me, god knows why. It must be some neurological short circuit.
“Well either way, I’m relieved to know that it was Sex Rap that eventually tore us apart and not anything else,” Chris goes on for some goddamn reason.
Just as soon as Andy disappeared, he comes back out, followed by the other guys – it’s smoke break o’clock, it seems.
“You’re still here?” Stone stares at me. “Did you decide to stay?”
“No, I gotta go get a loaded hot chocolate for Lizzy, for being a huge asshole,” I add and notice Sean quickly look away from me. I’m so glad it’s him that I ran into and not Jerry.
“I can give you a ride,” Chris offers in the world’s best impression of nonchalance.
“Thanks. I think I’ll just walk though,” I answer at a surprisingly calm and quiet level myself. I only have energy to deal with one semi-emotional semi-intellectual crisis at a time and it is my fight with Lizzy. Besides, I don’t really think I care that much about Chris; I just don’t really know how to be…around him anymore. But that’s really a thought for another time. “No need to offer, Mike. I’d rather hitch a ride on a rusty chainsaw,” I add because I feel like it.
“I wasn’t going to offer, I just got my car detailed,” he responds mirroring my fake grin.
“God, I’ll give you a fuckin’ ride, I need some fucking matcha anyway. Can we just go like, right now?” Sean butts in with a sigh, in his usual, mind-numbing monotone. Who the fuck drinks matcha?..
“Thanks, yeah…”
“Come on,” he mumbles while pulling his keys out of his pocket.
“Bye, everyone!” I half wave, half shrug at the group, only half of whom are paying attention.
“Even me?” Mike throws me a shitty little smirk.
“Since you asked, no.”
“Can we all just act like adults this once?” Sean complains as he heads for the car parked on the street.
The car ride is kind of awkward, mostly because Sean is evidently not a very gifted conversationalist and I’m too distracted by my own thoughts to even try to keep the small talk going.
“Actually, can you drop me off over there, by that Valu-mart?” I point through the windshield about ten minutes later when I realize what route Sean’s taking.
“You don’t need to go to the coffee shop anymore?”
“I will eventually, I just realized I could pay Mudhoney’s new rehearsal space a quick visit, it’s just around the corner.”
“New space?” Sean echoes while narrowing his eyes on the vehicle in front of us, evidently not moving fast enough.
“Oh no, is he going exactly the speed limit?” I blurt out; he gets the reference, judging by the sound of his tickled laugh. “Yeah, instead of our building’s laundry room, they are now rehearsing in a different basement.”
“Cool… Okay…” He says distractedly while focusing on the road and looking for a spot to pull over. “We have arrived,” he drawls like the butler from the Addams family.
“Thanks, Sean.” I turn to open my car door but his voice stops me.
“Hey, so…”
“Yeah?” What could he possibly be trying to articulate here?
“I wasn’t gonna say anything, it’s none of my business, but…” It’s taking him an eternity… “I think Jerry deserves to be happy.”
“Okay…” Debatable. Intriguing statement though. I let go of the door handle and turn fully back towards him.
“We all told him to not say anything to Lizzy, just never do it again…”
“Ew,” I hear my own voice.
“What do you mean, ew?” He crinkles his eyebrows.
“Shitty advice.”
“Whatever, point is, he didn’t listen to it. He’s a good guy. Who made a shitty mistake.”
Wow. Something about this actually makes him seem really sincere. “Okay… Thanks…”
“I’m not saying this because he wants me to.”
“Okay…” He’s so…monotone. I just don’t know what else to say.
“Okay?” He breathes a tiniest scoff.
“I said okay, thanks. You know, thanks for the…info. What else am I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know, just don’t be weird about it,” he delivers in that same monotone. “Like I said, I was really debating not saying anything at all. If you ask me, it looks to me like Lizzy is going through a bad boy phase that’s gonna end sooner or later. But Jerry really is totally bent out of shape over what happened so… Like I said, he’s a really good guy and he really cares for her.”
“Okay… Please stop talking,” I just now realize how contorted my frown is. This conversation feels like getting lemon juice in my eyes.
“The fuck?”
“Bad boy phase? I know I’m in your car but… You don’t fucking know her so shut up,” I shrug. “Again, thanks for the information. It’s gonna be up to Lizzy to decide what she’ll do with her relationship and her cheating boyfriend.”
“You’re right, you are in my car,” he looks…somewhat amused. “Show some fuckin’ manners.” He smirks.
A couple of hours later, I stand in the doorway of Lizzy's room, the hot chocolate still warm in my hand. I’m so bad at this stuff… I shift my weight from one foot to the other, trying to decide how to approach this.
Lizzy’s already curled up under her covers, resting against a mountain of pillows with a book in her hands. I step inside her room, just barely, and hold out the cup like the peace offering that it’s meant to be. “I got you a hot chocolate. Your favorite. Marshmallows and drizzles and all.” My voice is quiet, almost hesitant, as if the gesture might be too much.
Lizzy looks at the cup and then back at me, sitting up a little. “You didn’t have to… But thanks.” She smiles a little, and I feel a small, hopeful lift in my chest.
I sigh and step closer, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean to make things harder for you.”
She takes the cup from my hands, her fingers brushing mine, and takes a slow sip. “Thank you, Kat. I really appreciate you saying that.”
I try to smile but it doesn’t feel right. “I just…care. A lot. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you or judging you just for the sake of it.” I exhale sharply.
Lizzy looks at me, her expression softening. “Yeah… It just wasn’t what I needed but… But you’re still here, you’re always here for me, even when you’re a bit of a pain in the ass about it.”
“And I’m still down to riot…if you want me to.”
Lizzy smiles a little brighter and takes another sip of the hot chocolate. “You’re a good friend, Kat. I’m lucky to have you.”
I let out a breath, my shoulders relaxing. “I’m lucky to have you too.” I pause, feeling a bit awkward again. “I realize that you know best what to do in this situation. I think… You just have a much bigger heart than I do…”
“That’s not true, Katie, you have a great big heart,” she protests but I keep going while the momentum lasts.
“…you know how to forgive and honestly… I think Jerry is really into you. I don’t know—You know what, I won’t comment on him. But I think you know how much he cares about you and… for me, it’s hard to wrap my head around the concept of this duality.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t take this as me projecting, I’m talking purely about myself now, but… If I was in your situation, I think I would just assume that person hates me and wants to hurt me. I know people make mistakes, obviously,” I draw a little impatient circle with my eyes, “but for me, it would be really difficult to rationalize that. I think that’s why I got so…mad. I just reacted like I would if it were me and a hypothetical guy, which is not fair to you. You are honestly far more emotionally intelligent than me and, like I said, I trust you to make your own decisions.”
“Thanks. Yeah, I know Jerry didn’t mean to hurt me. I’m sure of it.”
“I think it also helps that you’re a lot more self-confident than me.”
“What?” Lizzy’s voice goes up incredulously. “You’re so confident, Kat! The way you go through life, the way you talk to people and tackle all kinds of situations.”
“Dude, if it were me, I know I would always feel like I’m not enough or like the other person is settling for me, and it’s entirely because I’m not. Confident,” I add. “I just don’t necessarily assume I’m always all that loveable, you know?”
“You’re being silly and dramatic for no reason now! You are so worthy of love! I don’t always understand you or relate to you in every situation but I always love you, I hope you know that. We all do. And I’ve seen plenty of guys go after you, you’re a catch!” Lizzy contradicts me passionately, somewhat missing the mark, I fear; but A for effort.
PREVIOUSLY: Lizzy and Jerry are finally done beating around the bush and now entering the tender honeymoon stage of a new relationship – or at least getting ready to, as soon as Jerry meets up with his ex Dee and gets closure on his old relationship; Kat has a self-professed fiasco at the bookshop interview and takes her bad mood out on Lizzy, while Gwen starts her internship at the Mexican embassy and looks forward to celebrating her new endeavor on the weekend; Eva, as always, is sinking deeper and deeper into textbook, espresso, and basketball induced exhaustion.
What am I going to say to her? I mean, I guess you start with a ‘hi’ but what the fuck are we gonna talk about? We’re not together anymore, we’re not really friends either… And why am I just now thinking about that!? I guess this whole time, the idea of seeing Dee again was overshadowed by the fact that it’s something Lizzy wanted me to do; I wasn’t so much thinking about the actual semantics of seeing my ex when I was agreeing to it… That’s kind of fucked up. But…maybe healthy, actually? Like, I am truly over Dee and my heart really is with Lizzy…right? I definitely do feel like I’m ready for commitment and I’m not just jumping from the slowly sunken ship that was my relationship with Dee.
Now though, as I’m pacing around the entrance to this dingy coffee shop at the edge of Seattle, waiting for Dee to show up literally any second… Now, I feel like I’m going on a first date. Not in the romantic or sexual kind of way, but in how nervous I am.
I haven’t seen her since Christmas, since we were together. Together? I guess we hadn’t been really together since she moved to Colorado… And we never got together on that trip either… But at least then we were both fully committed to acting as though it was all gonna work out, like we even had any relationship left to speak of. Now, six months later, I’m not sure what to expect…
What if Dee’s not coping well? I mean, I was her first serious, long term boyfriend… What if she’s in rough shape? That would make me feel like shit. I mean, I don’t think that’s the case but…what if it is? I just can’t help but feel like I need to be ready for it…
“Jerry!”
I stop in my track, halfway through the invisible figure ‘8’ I’ve been etching into the sidewalk, and look over my shoulder. My eyes take a second to confirm it really is who it is, as if I wasn’t expecting to see my ex waving at me as she jogs across the street.
“Hey,” I say, as she steps over to me, and then reciprocate her hug with a single arm. The hug feels like force of habit more than anything else.
I am stricken though by how she smells just like I remember; it feels weird for some reason. Of course she’s not going to start buying new laundry detergent, deodorant, and shampoo because we broke up, but it’s just weird; she smells like my girlfriend did, but she’s become more of a total stranger lately. I had gotten so used to the “long distance” part before the “relationship” by the time we ended it, that I never even thought about how it’s meant that I never worry about running into her like other people and their exes do. Because she doesn’t live here anymore, we get to control when we see each other. I guess that’s a good thing.
“How’s it going?” She holds my gaze and I take in her new haircut: she went from shoulder-length waves to hair that just hits her jaw. I liked it better before…not that it matters.
“Doing well, how ‘bout yourself?”
Out of the blue, she giggles, then shakes her head as I watch her, puzzled. “I’m doing well, Jerry.”
“After you,” I pull the coffee shop door open for her.
The whole time we’re looking at the drink menu (turns out it’s a coffee shop and a bar) and talking to the bartenders, and finding a table to sit at…I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to say to her. If I’m being totally honest, I kind of want to call her out on saying that I was distant and checked out… But at the same time, does that even matter? I’m not trying to get back together so whether I was or wasn’t checked out is a moot point.
“This is strange, huh?” Dee doesn’t beat around the bush as we both pull up chairs at a window table. “Seeing each other like this…”
“I mean,” I breathe out a hollow laugh, really just trying to buy myself some time, “we were gonna see each other at one point or another.” That’s not true. For all I know, I was literally never going to see her again. Seattle is not a small town, so even if she ever moved back we still might never run into each other. That’s a weird thought…
“Here’s those two lattes,” a waiter drops off two cups on our table; I figured coffee was the way to go. It is after five so an alcoholic beverage wouldn’t have been an outrageous choice but it just didn’t feel…appropriate for the occasion.
“So, how’ve you been? How’s school?” I say a moment later because Dee goes to blow and sip on her coffee the second we’re alone at our table; like she’s waiting for me to lead this closure meeting.
“Well, I’m done with classes but I have finals in about ten days… Problem is, Colorado is super nice this time of year already. It’s sunny there all. The. Time,” she goes on and for a second it feels like nothing’s changed, it’s just like hanging out before… “It’s actually going to be way easier for me to focus on studying out here than back there.” Except that…has she picked up an accent? The way she said ‘super’… Super. Yeah, yeah, Colorado is super nice, whatever. Let’s just get this over with so I can go hang out with Lizzy…
I realize she stopped talking only a couple seconds after she does. Oops… She breathes out a dry laugh and shakes her head as I lift my hands up as if in defense. “Look, Dee,” I start, still not sure how I’m going to end it… “I just… I hope you know that you were a wonderful girlfriend and that what we had was—”
“Yes, yes, of course I know, Jerry! Gosh, I just… I just wanted to apologize to you for breaking up over a phone message…” Dee finally gets her words out and for a moment, I can find none to respond.
“Honestly Dee,” I breathe out a laugh, “Somebody had to end it. I think you were just more ballsy than me. As you’ve always been, confident and sure in yourself.”
“Thanks…” She gives me a relieved smile before going back to her coffee. “You really think so? That it was going to end one way or another?”
“I mean… We were great before you went off to college—And I’m not trying to imply it’s your fault for leaving…”
“Sure.”
“It’s just so far…”
“It’s very different,” she bobs her head slowly. “Everyone’s very different there from here… I just really…” She trails off with a shrug.
“I think we were both a little naïve to tell ourselves that things wouldn’t change after such a big move.”
“Yeah… Your life’s here and mine is over there now.”
“Yeah… It’s okay though, it’s fine,” I assure her. I can tell that she feels bad about wanting to break up and move on. I know her enough to gather that much.
“And you’re really not just saying that?”
“Swear to God.”
“Okay… Jerry, I’ve also been thinking that I should probably tell you something… I’m dating someone,” there’s palpable tentativeness in her voice now.
As in, I have been dating someone? Or just now am? “Cool, um… Like… How l—”
“I met him a month after we broke up, I promise. It’s just been going on for about three weeks now, we haven’t even had sex actually,” she assures me so vigorously, it nearly gives me whiplash. I believe her. I’ve never felt like I couldn’t trust Dee since the day I met her and she’s never given me reason not to.
“Good,” I finally croak out, my throat dry as desert all of a sudden. “I mean!” I wave my arms and laugh in a panic; then clear my throat and reiterate: “I’m glad to hear that you’re dating someone new, genuinely.” I just didn’t expect that at all.
“Thanks, Jerry,” Dee holds my gaze a second longer than needed, as if to let me know she really means it. And I really am glad! Sure, on one hand, it feels weird…but it’s good. The fact that both of us are moving on and that we’re able to meet up today and have this talk… That’s really great. She should have sex with the guy though. I mean, why not?..
“I’ve been seeing someone too…” I take the chance and admit as well.
“Oh?” Dee inhales sharply.
“Bad ‘oh’?” I can tell it is.
“I just didn’t…expect that. So fast. This whole time I thought you were so apprehensive about breaking up…”
What!? So fast?? She literally just told me she’s been seeing someone for almost a month now and we only broke up two months ago! “I was,” I still assure her very eagerly, for some reason. It’s her who broke up with me, anyway. I have nothing to feel guilty about!
“Yeah, I guess I felt like I was being a bitch, breaking up over the phone and stuff. I didn’t realize you didn’t really care anyway and that you’d have moved on so quickly.”
“Kind of a harsh way to word that, maybe?”
“I mean, it is what it is. So, is it anyone I know?” She asks, obviously trying to sound nonchalant.
“No.”
A silent pause falls between us as Dee looks at me with some kind of misplaced expectation, and I take big gulps of my coffee and then try to act like they didn’t just burn the shit out of my throat. “No? You’re not going to tell me who it is?” She finally asks.
“What, you really wanna discuss my new girlfriend?” I ask maybe a touch more bitterly than I intended.
“Girlfriend? So you’re not just seeing her, you’re actually together?”
“You know me, I’m a serial monogamist,” I shrug uncomfortably. And what the fuck, she just told me she’s been seeing someone for pretty much the whole last month! “It’s very new,” I tell her.
“Does she know where you are right now?”
“Yes. She wanted me to see you.”
“Well damn…” Dee hangs her head momentarily with a sigh. “I— I’m happy for you.” She sounds a million times softer suddenly. I guess she just remembered that she broke up with me, too.
“Thanks.”
“I really am. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like I just did…”
“No worries. I’m just really happy for us both.”
“So… Is that it then?”
“What do you mean?”
“Case closed?” She offers me a shaky smile. “We’re good? And we’re done. And I just have an ex-boyfriend who gave me the world’s healthiest closure.”
“Yeah…” I breathe out a laugh. I guess so.
“Should we toast to both our separate happinesses then?” She beams. I’m about to point out that she’s not twenty-one yet but before I get the chance, she tells me she has a fake ID, “from Colorado. So they probably wouldn’t even know what a real one looks like around here.”
“You know, sure!”
I flag down the waiter and we end up ordering two beers and two shots of tequila. Actually, I’m not really sure how the tequila got ordered… I think Dee was about to go for something fancy, like sparkling wine or something, at the same time that I asked for two beers… Dee said something about beer not being something you toast with… And now we’re here.
“So how’s everyone doing?” Dee puts her elbows up on the table and asks me in a tone that sounds way more at ease than anything she had said up to this point.
* * *
“Norwegian Wood is the only decent Beatles song,” Mark tells me after I’ve just expressed excitement over You’re Gonna Lose That Girl that we just cut short on the car radio right as Gwen pulled into a parking spot.
“That’s a lofty accusation,” Kat says while climbing out of the passenger seat, which she insisted on occupying by yelling ‘shotgun’ at the top of her lungs; the girl is clearly unable to waste a good argument.
“I have to agree with her,” I tell Mark who holds the door open for me to follow him out of the car. Partially because I don’t want to get on Kat’s bad side again, she’s been in some type of mood lately and I just don’t want to deal with her outbursts…but also because I really don’t agree with Mark. “Honestly, Norwegian Wood is probably one of my least favorite Beatles songs. But of course you’d like that one…”
“Really, Lizzy,” he gives me some kind of a knowing look. “You know they ripped off a bunch of Black people, right?”
“Not nearly as many as Elvis did. Besides, punk was ripped off of Black musicians, too, I’m sure you’ve heard of that,” I smirk at him, because for once I have something to say that really seems to humble him, judging by the gasp in place of a verbal response.
“How do you know that? I thought you have a filter that comes over your ears whenever punk is played— or mentioned,” he falls into step with me, Kat, and Gwen as we walk into the bar. “You do know that Beatles also ripped everything off from Pink Floyd, right?” He moves on to pester Kat and I leave them to their dizzying discussion.
It doesn’t take our little group long before we run into some of our UW friends: we stumble upon a group of people getting drinks at the bar counter. After a loud minute of hugging and saying our hi’s, I hear Kat say:
“Arm, this Julian. You sent me on that scavenger hunt to retrieve his pedal that time… Julian,” she motions her hand way closer to Mark’s face than necessary, “Mark Arm, my very weird neighbor.” Very weird? What kind of a thing is that to say about someone? Julian doesn’t seem to be bothered by it though. He just laughs, making his jet black curls bounce around his face.
“You could have at least made it sparkling,” Gwen nods at a plastic cup of wine I was just handed by the bartender. “You know, to celebrate?”
“I really like this wine…”
“You guys drinking wine?” Mark cranes his neck at us while simultaneously elbowing his way to the bar counter.
At this, Gwen sloshes a sip of her sparkling wine in her mouth and gargles it in her throat for a second before swallowing. “This was my first week at a job where there’s not a drop of alcohol, Mark.”
“Ah… Lowered tolerance…” He mumbles at her, eyes full of nothing short of awe.
“Anyway, it’s also the one wine Jerry actually really likes—”
“Lizzy, for the love of God,” Gwen interrupts me with a deep sigh. “Can we please not talk about your boyfriend for at least one night?”
“Are you talking about Jerry again?? Guys,” Kat pops up next to us with the same kind of exhale I just heard from Gwen.
“That’s what I’m saying! This is my night and I make the rules so, Lizzy… No Jerry talk tonight.”
I hear a string of indignant huffs and puffs come out of my own mouth as I gape at my blonde friend but she just laughs. “I don’t talk about him that much…”
“You really do.”
“And it’s okay,” Gwen quickly adds to Kat’s dry statement. “Just maybe not tonight? Or… Are you worried about him meeting up with his ex?”
“What? No! Of course not! I know I have nothing to worry about.” I really do. At least I think so. I mean, I’m not worried, actually. I just kinda wish…he’d be here instead. Not really, I like that he’s meeting up with Dee and getting closure, but I just…I miss him. Ah, I missed this feeling!
“Where’s Eva? Is she coming separately?” Our friend Nadia turns to our little group while waiting for her change and drink.
“She’s at home,” Gwen says.
“Studying,” I add.
“Or making toast in the bathtub…”
“Kat!” Gwen laughs. “No, yeah… She’s been really stressed and tired.”
“Oh, bummer…” Nadia crinkles her nose. “Well you girls need to take care of her…” She trails off and turns away again as the bartender retrieves her attention.
“We probably really should do something,” Kat bobs her head.
“We should throw her a party, bring some fun into her life!”
“Yeah, more like an intervention party, Lizzy. Real parties require energy which Eva’s got none of,” Gwen sips on her drink.
* * *
I think I’ve only had three glasses…maybe four? Of sparkling wine when I notice a warm bubbly tipsy feeling take over my whole body. I guess my tolerance really has gone down… Not that I drank that much on my bartending shifts. I guess it all adds up though. It’s also probably the stress of getting into the groove of a new job. Honestly, I feel great, I’m loving this change of pace, but it seems my body really needed to take a break and loosen up a bit.
Somehow I find myself listening to Lizzy talking about Jerry again… This time, telling Nadia all about some conversation from the other night… That I’m pretty sure she’s already heard. So I order another drink…my fifth glass, I guess? “You guys wanna go dance?” I ask my friends to the sound of some synthesizer-heavy song that played on the radio non-stop about five years ago; but Lizzy declines very sweetly, since she’s in the middle of her riveting story… So I head towards the middle of the barroom, but before I can join the sea of dancers I notice somebody making a beeline towards me from the corner of my eye. Fuck.
“Hey you,” Mike strides up to me with a shitty little smirk on his face. Just my luck, of course he’s drinking the night away at the same bar.
“Hi?”
“Um… I saw you from over there,” he nods his head somewhere behind him, “and I just wanted to come say hi.”
“Okay. Hi.”
“You look good.”
“Thanks, I know.” I don’t know why I just said that. I guess I just don’t want him to have anything of mine, like I know I look good, you don’t get to tell me that. Fuck off.
He laughs though, the kind of laugh that tells me he thinks I’m being playful with him. “You been doing good?”
“Yeah, I’ve been doing fine.” I make a point to not ask him back; I don’t care.
“I heard you work at the fuckin’ Mexican embassy??” Mike raises his eyebrows and nods with a huge smile.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Give you three guesses?” He snorts. Of course it was Jerry. Right.
“Right… You know, the fact that our friends are dating, doesn’t make you and me friends.”
“Ouch…”
“What do you mean, ouch?!” I laugh out. “Seriously, we don’t have to do this. I don’t have a problem with Lizzy dating Jerry, same as I don’t have an interest in him, or his social life, or his friends… Any more than what I have to hear about it from Lizzy. Which is a lot actually…”
Mike chuckles and sways on his feet, his hands in his jeans pockets, obviously trying to look some type of way. I really don’t care about him anymore. I’m not even that rattled to see him so unexpectedly. And granted, maybe that’s just the alcohol in me, but it doesn’t change anything. Actually, I’m kind of glad he knows I’m at the embassy now; that I’m moving on and moving forward in life. He can no longer find me at the bar whenever he pleases.
“That’s fair. Jerry talks about her a lot, too. It’s always Lizzy this, Lizzy that…”
“Yeah. I’m happy for them.” God, how did I end up on the topic of Jerry, again!?
“I miss you, Gwen. I’m not just saying that, I mean it, and… I know that’s probably not what you want to hear and I wasn’t going to say it, but you look at me like that…” Like what? Like you’re a cockroach on my kitchen floor? Huh? “…and your eyes disarm me. I’ve missed you a lot, genuinely.”
“I really can’t say the same.”
“Understandable response.” Oh? Now he understands? “Look… I just wanted to say… I’m really sorry.”
Wow. Just like that. No conditions, no justifications, just a ‘sorry’. I have to say, I’m a little impressed. “Thanks,” is all I say though because what else is there to say. “I appreciate it,” I add after a moment.
“I’m really not trying to cause trouble here,” he lifts his hands defensively. “I just wanted to make things right… As right as I can, anyway…”
“Okay…”
“Yeah…” We both fall silent for a long moment, just looking at each other. Honest to God, I really don’t feel anything anymore towards him. How liberating. “You wanna dance?”
“Oh so you like dancing now?”
“You made me like it. It’s all thanks to you, really. Come on,” he reaches out his elbow and nudges me lightly. “Just until the song’s over and then I’ll be gone.”
I mean… I was going to dance anyway. And if nothing else, maybe this will show him just how much I don’t care and that I am in fact over him. His presence doesn’t fluster or excite me, he’s just another guy at a bar who asks me to dance. “Sure.”
Although the song is very much not a good fit for it, Mike manages to work a couple of salsa moves in, which I can’t help but admire. Almost seems like he’s a better and more enthusiastic dancer now than he was when I had to drag him to dance classes with me. Before I know it, he’s holding my hand and spinning me, and as the song comes to an end, he tugs at my arm and twirls me into his embrace, and…kisses me! And it just feels like a fun moment that, for a second, makes me forget who he is, I swear, and I kiss him back, I even put my hands on the back of his neck!
“Wait, no! I can’t do this!” I finally recoil. Ugh, what an idiot! Him! And me!
“It’ll be different this time, I promise,” Mike tries to keep his hands on my waist but I pull away.
“What? There will be nothing, there is no ‘this time’,” I frown at him. I mean, seriously?!
“Look, I know you can have any guy you want but if we just gave this one more chance—”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I’m…seeing someone.” Okay, we’ll go with that. “It’s not only that I don’t want to, I can’t. We’re over, Mike. I’m serious.”
“What?” He blinks at me. “Look, I understand your apprehension but I swear—”
“What do you think I just said? You want me to repeat it??”
“What I think is that you’re not actually seeing anyone,” his expression switches up into a put now, “you’re just playing hard to get to teach me a lesson…” Oh god.
“Please, not everything revolves around you.”
“Then why did you kiss me if you’re with someone?”
“I don’t know, I wonder if it could be same reason you fucked Krsitine…” I pretend to be deep in thought; and I can tell this comment really rattles him. “How does that whole thing go again? I tripped and my lips touched yours; you tripped and cheated… Right?”
“Come on…”
“Come on what?!”
“I already apologized. You have no idea how shitty I feel about that.” Oh you poor fucking thing. Give me a break. “And I get that everything doesn’t revolve around me, believe me,” Mike’s voice softens all of a sudden. Ugh. “I know you’re not just gonna come running back to me so easy. I know I have to put the work in, I know—”
“I’m not running back to you at all, easy or hard. Save yourself the time and effort.”
“Okay, wrong choice of words…”
“Look, unless you have something actually important to say to me, I’m gonna go find my friends.”
“So where’s this guy you’re seeing then? You’re not here with him, conveniently?” He looks impatient now.
“I am. And with my friends,” I fold my arms across my chest.
“So what’s his name then?”
“Why do you care? You want to stalk him or something?” I scrunch my nose because what else can I do??
“Seriously, Gwen, you can drop the act…” Mike trails off looking somewhere past me and I turn around to see why: Kristine just walked into the bar.
“Okay, well, I’m gonna go now.” I hold my open palm out at him to really drive the point home as I turn on my heel; point being that this conversation is over.
I walk away to the sound of his stuttering about how she means nothing and how what we had was real. I try my best to not start full on running but I do want to get away from him as fast as possible. Without thinking, I head in the directions of the restrooms and luckily spot one of my girls.
“You need to smuggle me out of here, right now!”
“Wh- why?” Kat stutters, peach in one hand, using the other to clumsily catch its juice dribbling down her chin. She claims that eating fruit on nights out keeps her from having a hangover the next morning but sometimes I think it’s really just some weird social anxiety compulsion of hers, like smoking or biting nails.
“Because… I just made out with Mike a little!” I whisper shout.
“Mike…McCready?”
“Who?”
“Oh, I just met him, he’s a friend of Stone’s—”
“What the fuck are you talking about?!”
“Mike McCready…” She shrugs and takes another bite of the fruit as if this is not an absolute emergency.
“I meant Mike Starr, you fuckin’ pumpkin head!”
“You said… A little? Can you defi—”
“KAT.”
“Yeah. Mike Starr. I had a feeling…” She gives me an outright bereaved look. “I just didn’t want to believe that you’re that fuckin’ dumb, Gwen.”
“Katie, now is not the time! You can give me a thirty minute presentation on all the reason that was a stupid thing to do later, but it’s done! So can you be a friend and help me? I’m fuckin’ panicking! I mean, what do I do??”
I can practically see Kat swallow her pride, and I love this girl for that. “So we need to leave?” She still continues to eat her damn peach.
“Either that or you find me a fake boyfriend real quick because I told Mike I have one and that he’s here…”
“And…then you made out..?”
“KAT!”
“Alright, sorry… Boyfriend… I have an idea actually, don’t go anywhere…” She pulls out a napkin from her pocket and walks away quickly while wrapping the chewed up stone of her peach in it, and I think I hear her mumble something like ‘there’s many boys around here who could be friends…’ Oh god.
* * *
Shit… How did I get so drunk? How did we get so drunk, is the question, by the looks of it… Dee is currently on stage… Turns out, this place is a karaoke bar on Fridays too… She’s curtsying at the end of a pretty bad rendition of Fast Car…although I think Dee herself thinks she did pretty well, judging by the smirk on her face as she comes back to her stool at the bar, where we’ve relocated after toasting that first shot, finishing our beers, and having another round of tequila…
“You know, we could have been a country duo!” She beams at me as she sits down. “Oh gosh, please don’t take this as… I really like this guy I’m seeing, I really think a relationship could grow from it.”
“Understood,” I nod slightly, amused by her flustered moment.
“But,” she starts before looking up directly into my eyes. “I meant it when I said I’ll probably always love you, you know. Our love was not the kind of thing you stumble upon or get over easily… I think I’ll carry the memories of us for the rest of my life.”
“I mean, you’ll always have a special place in my heart, Dee…” Fuck. I don’t think I should be driving home tonight. I’ll take a bus…or walk. Damn, how did I get this drunk? “I’m happy we can part ways on good terms, you know. I’d hate to think that I broke your heart or left you with some unresolved hurt, you know…”
“Let’s toast to that!” She proclaims while already trying to flag down the bartender but I grab her arm and pull it back down, laughing.
“Maybe enough toasting?”
“Come on! You’ve always been a partyer! Maybe I want in on it too… After all, we might never see each other again after tonight…” She sways on her seat ever so gently and I concede.
We order another round of tequila shots, clink our little glasses together, do the whole salt and lime thing… And when Dee goes to place her now empty shot glass on the counter, her hand misses it entirely and the little thing falls to the floor instead, which causes a wave of giggles.
We both bend over to pick the glass up at the same time but end up bumping our heads together instead. “Ouch!” Dee frowns with another giggle and I instinctively grab the sides of her head with my hands, peering at her forehead expecting to see some blood.
“Shit, ow, that fucking hurt…” I automatically go to push a strand of her hair back to make sure she really is okay… And this feels like the old times… Just the simple act of touching her face, of looking into her eyes… It’s almost as if we’re back together. But we’re not, and that’s okay, that’s totally fine. I wouldn’t want things any other way than they are now.
Regardless, I’m not too quick to move my hands from the sides of her face, probably because I’m not too quick to do or react to anything, thanks to alcohol… And then I realize her gaze has dropped to my mouth… Then she looks into my eyes again, then my mouth… And then she leans in and kisses me.
“Dee, no…” I pull away, not too vigorously though either. I just don’t know what to do, I don’t want to complicate things, I don’t want to hurt anyone…
“I’m sorry,” she sits up straight all of a sudden, looking way more sober than a moment ago. “I’m really happy with this guy… His name is Nick, and he’s really cool and I like him a lot, he’s a rock climber, and he snowboards, and… Seeing you is so strange… I’m sorry…”
“It’s okay, Dee. I understand,” I assure her and watch my own hands reach for hers. “It is strange, meeting up again and having to just say goodbye…”
“It just feels like we didn’t really get to say goodbye… We never even had sex on winter break, for crying out loud,” she lets out an exasperated sounding sigh.
Uh… I’m not really in the market for break up sex but how on earth do I communicate that without sounding like a complete douchebag?? I really can’t come up with any words so I just laugh, probably obviously pretty uncomfortably. “Hey, uh… It’s getting pretty late…”
She holds my gaze for another moment, then sighs, and nods her head. “Can you drive me to my parents’? I really don’t think I can drive myself at this point…”
“I don’t think I should be driving either. We can go find a cab?”
“Will you split it with me? I don’t wanna be alone with some stranger,” she drawls as she gets up from the bar stool, holding onto the edge of the counter as she does.
“Yeah, of course.”
It feels like the whole night screeches to a halt in the next ten minutes. That whole time, as we walk outside and find a taxi cab, neither of us says a single word. Shit, we shouldn’t have drank that much. It was going so well and now we’re probably both verging on a hangover and bad decisions. I can tell Dee is…upset? I don’t know if that’s the right word… But I didn’t want us to part that way.
“Don’t forget to drink lots of water,” I tell her as she scoots into the middle of the back seat of a taxi car and buckles herself in, “when you get home.”
“I’ll miss you,” she gives me a tequila smile after another second of just looking at me. “Not in any kind of… I’ll just miss you as a person, Jerry. You’re a really good guy.”
“Hey now, it’s not like I’m dying…”
“It’s okay if you can’t say the same…”
“No, I will, I’ll miss you too, Dee,” I assure her as the cab driver swerves into traffic and turns the shitty music on the radio up just a touch. “How could I not?”
So this is really it. I’ll drop her off at her parents’ house and probably never see her again. It feels so abrupt somehow, which is ridiculous. This break up has been going on for a couple of months, from the moment she left me that voicemail… Hell, even way before that… Until now. And now it’s really going to be done and over.
“Can I just…” I feel Dee’s hand land on my thigh and watch her take a quick glance at the back of the driver’s head, who seems to be thoroughly uninterested in us. “Gosh, I’m so nervous… Can I just give you one last parting,” her hand moves to the waist of my jeans, right above the zipper, “gift?” She slowly drags her gaze up to meet my eyes. Fuck…
* * *
I had stepped outside to hide from Mike and have a cigarette while Kat executes whatever plan she had in mind, and as I’m coming back inside, I’m starting to feel like maybe I should have just left… I just don’t know that I trust Kat in…these kinds of matters… I mean, if I ever need to get rid of a body or fake my own death, she is number one on my list of accomplices, but this? Guys and relationships and all that kind of stuff? I don’t know what she’s planning on doing but I’m starting to feel a rumble of anxiety in the pit of my stomach… What if she gets Mark to play my fake boyfriend?? That would be terrible! I mean, Mike surely wouldn’t believe it. Not to mention the fact they know each other and probably run into each other on a regular basis. I mean, it would be perfect in the sense that Mike broke up both ours and Mark’s relationships; I bet it would really rattle him. But… I don’t know… God, I really hope that’s not what Kat’s doing.
I spot Mike out of the corner of my eye before I have time to find anyone else or to act busy in any way, so I pretend to not notice him and keep walking towards the bar counter. Before I reach it though, the serenely smiling, beer-carrying, leather jacket-wearing…Julian catches up with me first.
“Hey Gwen,” he hands me one of the bottles. “Kat sent me. She’s really indebted to me at this point…”
“Wh-what?”
“I’m your fake boyfriend for the night,” he offers me a goofy grin. I mean, he is really hot. He’s also really gay. And I hardly know him. Him and Kat have been friends since freshman year so I’ve known of him for a while, but I don’t think either of us has enough information about each other to successfully fake a relationship in front of Mike… And speaking of Mike, I realize he’s now made his way to the other end of the room and is leaning his back against the edge of the bar counter maybe some thirty feet away from us, and I can tell he’s watching us.
“So, what exactly was Kat’s grand plan here?”
“We’re making some guy jealous, right?”
“Yes, but how?”
“Well… If you’re okay with that, we’re going to make out a little.”
“What??”
“For the purposes of a jealous shitty ex strictly. Trust me, there’s not many women I’d even consider kissing.”
“Oh—Wh—Pff…” I steal a glance in Mike’s direction; the moment my eyes land on him, he actually looks away. Ha! Shit. Why the fuck did I let him kiss me?? So now I have to be kissed by Kat’s little gay friend! What a mess! “Okay, sure…”
“Sure?” He laughs and slowly moves closer. “I expect a bit more gratitude for my sacrifice.”
“Are you sure this is gonna work?”
“Well, your ex doesn’t know me so I don’t see how it wouldn’t. I don’t exactly have the word ‘gay’ imprinted on my forehead…”
“No, I mean…” I whisper as Julian moves his face even closer to mine. Actually, come to think of it, I’m sure we must look like a normal couple from outside. I mean, Mike has no clue what we’re talking about and our closeness and body language sure don’t look platonic. “Yeah, let’s do it. Thanks,” I add quickly before he pulls me into a kiss. And wow, I have to say, this guy is a far better kisser than Mike. I used to think that Mike was pretty great at it but this back to back comparison really leaves no doubt. God, I was so blind and confused…
After our little PDA spectacle, I grab Julian’s free hand and walk us to the bar, directly towards where Mike is. “Oh, hey,” I throw my ex a clueless grin, as if I had no idea he was here.
He’s got a snarl curving his lips, looking like he’d literally rather get swallowed by the earth than be here – a beautiful sight to behold, really.
“Care to join us for a drink?” I ask cheerfully. “Oh, this is Julian, by the way.”
Mike clicks his tongue with what I’m assuming is supposed to be some kind of a scornful look up and down Julian. “Nah. I’ve seen enough of this.”
“Seriously, any more and we’d have to charge you,” my fake boyfriend doesn’t miss a fucking beat!
“Fuck this noise…” Mike pushes away from the bar counter and strides off into the crowd of bar-goers.
“Highly unpleasant to even exist around…that,” Julian follows him with his gaze, “I mean, he’s pretty, I get what you liked about him. Very unpleasant energy though.”
“Tell me about it… Thanks,” I beam at him.
“Kat!” I basically run up to the girl a few minutes later, after buying Julian a gratitude drink, and I can tell she’s eager to find out how her plan went. “There you are, Kat! It worked!”
“It did??” She grins.
“Beautifully! Short and sweet.”
“Was he shattered by it?”
“Mortified, more like.”
“Wonderful. Now tell me my idea was brilliant because it was.”
“Julian would make a really hot straight guy,” I grin at her and lead the way into the restroom.
“I wish I’d seen Starr’s reaction but I thought me spying on you might ruin the credibility of it all.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t miss anything good.” I step around a girl trying to grab a piece of paper towel. “I just have a feeling he really wouldn’t have believed my boyfriend story unless he saw it. Like he probably thinks I really was just playing hard to get or trying to teach him a lesson before I inevitably take him back in.”
“Wow… What an arrogant shitrag.”
“What else is new? The door doesn’t lock,” I poke my head out from the stall I just entered and Kat obediently steps inside and leans her back against the said door to hold it shut. “It just pisses of me off that he’d think that though, you know? Like what the fuck?”
“Yeah, what the actual fuck…” Kat echoes with a crooked frown and a slow shake of her head.
“Like, really, he thinks I’m still not over him? Like he’s some special magic unicorn of a man or some shit? Seriously, darling, you need to come back down to earth if that’s what you think!” I roll my eyes as the words meant for my ex burst out of me.
“He never struck me as the sharpest tool in the shed. It’s always the most mediocre men that think they’re the hottest shit on earth,” Kat snorts.
“Well, this whole Julian thing really put a cork in it,” I cackle picturing Mike’s dumb face in my mind. “I mean, it is kind of genius… He has no idea who Julian is, he’s never met him, it’s perfect. I owe you one, Kat!”
“Oh god…” She gives me a fake terrified look as I’m pulling some toilet paper off the holder. “So when are we going to throw an intervention party for Eva?” She asks randomly after a moment.
This past winter, all of us were so preoccupied with all the different things – and people, admittedly – but the last few weeks, I feel, we’ve really come back to ourselves as a unit, as a girl gang, as the geeks. So me, Kat, and Lizzy have been painfully aware of Eva’s constant exhaustion as of late. And Kat’s right, we need to do something about it. I don’t think Eva’s had a single hour, let alone day, of fun in the last couple of months. Sure, she started playing basketball with some people as something she enjoys doing, but I think it pretty quickly turned into an obligation rather than a hobby. I think we need to get her to quit, seriously. Summer’s just around the corner and she really should be focusing on resting and, let’s be honest, partying.
“Girl, I still don’t understand why you were even with him!” A female voice that sounds like the dictionary definition of catty bursts into the restroom along with the momentary, blurred sounds of the barroom.
“Me either,” another voice cackles back. Wait…
“…seriously though,” I hear the first woman’s voice again.
“Seriously,” her friend starts slowly and when I glance at Kat, her face tells me she recognized the second voice too. “Mark…he’s different. He was never possessive, unlike a string of loser boyfriends I had before.”
“That’s a pretty low bar hun…”
“Maybe… He’s also actually a really good listener.”
“Really?” Kristine’s friend sounds super incredulous but Kat’s eyebrows arch ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, as she seemingly decides that she agrees with that statement.
“And he also made me cum almost every time…” Kristine’s tipsy laughter echoes in the restroom.
“Actually?!” The friend chortles.
“Ew,” I whisper at Kat through stifled laughter. She looks like she’d give anything to be literally anywhere but here though. Or like she ate a bad egg sandwich. Can’t really tell…
“D’you think we can fit out there?” She whispers, pointing at a vent above the toilet. Maybe if we were guinea pigs.
“Yeah… I don’t know, he’s just hot, he’s just a hot dude. What can I say, I guess I have a questionable taste in men.”
“I’ll fuckin’ say,” I shoot Kat an unamused look and she chuckles dryly, but then throws me a smirk that could only be described as ‘smartass’.
“Did you see Melinda hanging out by the stage?”
“What?!” There’s palpable panic in Kristine’s voice now. She’ll fuck Mike but she’s afraid of his sister, I guess? Honestly, this is hilarious. Peak entertainment, really. I just wish I had some popcorn. “Is the whole fucking town here tonight??”
Seems like it. “I still think you should go up to him.” Him? Mike? Or Mark? “It’s the perfect place and time. Offer to buy some shots, y’all can get a little tipsy, and then he’ll soften up. It’s been like, what, almost three months? You gotta go for it girl.”
“I don’t know…” Kristine mumbles, although she already sounds pretty tipsy to me, so everything she says comes out pretty loud. “Not with all of them here…”
“Who?” Her friend asks in a clueless tone, while Kat keeps her eyes glued to the floor.
“His goddamn neighbors…and Mike.”
Ah. So Kristine’s thinking of getting back together with Mark. Honestly, I don’t see it ever happening for her. But maybe I’m wrong, who knows. I wonder what Kat thinks. So I whisper a question:
“She wants to get back together?”
“Sounds like it,” Kat whispers back.
“Do you think he would?”
At this, she pulls her shoulders into a shrug accompanied by a clueless arch of her brow. “I don’t think he likes her very much…” I personally don’t think he would for more reasons than just Kristine being trash. I’ve been noticing some things…
“Yeah,” Kristine’s shrill voice cuts through my thoughts again, “like I always said, he’s my pitbull. He’ll come back to me because we’re each other’s pitbulls…”
Kat and I both snort and screech in an attempt to stifle our laughter; I’m sure, even the drunken duo of Kristine and her friend registers the sounds. Regardless, they plow on with their dumb conversation.
“What made you do it anyway?” Her friend lights up a cigarette, which I know because I’ve nudged Kat aside and started trying to peek through the crack between the stall door. “If it was so great, as you say… Why cheat on him? And with that man whore too…” Entertainment with a capital E.
“I don’t know… I was fuckin’ frustrated, Tiff. Mark was always hanging around that redhead,” she starts and I turn to watch Kat’s eyebrows tie into an actual knot. “I walked in on them at the laundry room and they suddenly stopped their conversation, like they were hiding something. What the fuck was he talking about with that chick that he had to hide from me?? I don’t know if they ever did anything but they were obviously into each other…”
At this, Kat’s whole face starts to sort of swirl inward, tightening the knot further.
“It’s just so disrespectful… And it just turned into this fucked up situation, you know? Everything was fine but then she moved into his building and started messing things up for him. Wait, did I tell you that she would give him gifts??” Kristine chortles and Kat’s face sours and twists even more somehow.
“What? What the fuck?” The friend laughs along.
“Yeah, like fuckin’ cupcakes and mixtapes and shit!”
“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ weird, like what are you, his little fan girl? A cute little groupie?”
“I know! Exactly! Mark was obviously confused by it… Like, I just felt at times like he would have been all over that bitch, if he hadn’t already gotten with me, you know? But that night…”
“He was asking me if he should buy Lou Reed tickets for her.” Kat informs me quickly and angrily, through gritted teeth.
“…felt really disrespected so I went out for drinks by myself…and had way too many. I ran into some people and Mike was there and at the end of the night, he offered to give me a ride and… I don’t know, I was pretty drunk but as I was getting into his car, I knew I was gonna kiss him just to get the anger out somehow…” Fucking selfish bitch. “Then one thing led to another and… I regretted it right after. I felt so gross…”
Wow. I don’t really feel like I needed to hear this, yet here we are. And what the fuck was Mike thinking!? If she was so drunk, he should have known better! Not gone along with it and taken advantage of the situation! But that’s probably exactly why he offered her a ride in the first place, what a shit stain.
“Woah, just because you saw Mark and that girl talking in the basement?”
“It’s not just that, Tiff,” Kristine sounds irritated by the question. “I was reaching a breaking point after feeling like shit for weeks and weeks because of how Mark treated me. Like I said, he was always hanging around that little bitch neighbor of his and… Like, he would never stand up for me when his dumb friends would say nasty shit to me, stuff like that.”
“Really? Who?”
“Like fuckin’ Buzz and Kurt…”
“Kurt is a dick, I have to say,” Kat delivers flatly.
“Anyway, I really thought by now Mark would have gone after her—”
“The redheaded bitch neighbor?”
“Yeah… I mean, she’s totally his type. And he was always hanging out at her apartment while we were together… But he hasn’t, he’s not with her, as far as I know… That must mean something, right?”
“You know, I think it does! He must’ve done some growing and realized he doesn’t need a girl like her, he needs a woman like you!”
“Oh my god, I love this song!” Kristine suddenly screeches at the sound of Elvis Costello’s I Want You and it’s the last thing we hear as the two girls finally fucking leave.
* * *
“So much to unpack,” Gwen laughs as we walk out of the restroom.
“Pitbulls?..”
“I don’t know…” She shakes her head and thankfully doesn’t mention the allegation that I was somehow out to break Kristine and Mark up. Or, wait, no, it was Mark who didn’t actually want to be with her because he learned of my existence..? But he’s still her pitbull… What the fuck?
“Anyway, speaking of Mark, thanks for not sending that guy for the task earlier.”
Wow, I had already forgotten about Gwen making out with Mike. What a night. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why? Mike would never believe that I’d ever be into Mark,” she shrugs like it’s the most elementary truth that all should know. Ouch?
“Did you and Mike explicitly discuss your aversion to Mark or…”
“You rang?” The blond Lurch appears literally out of nowhere, causing me to quickly look around – not sure what for.
“I really didn’t. But since you’re here, I think Gwen just called you unattractive…”
Mark inspects my face with the brightest of smiles. “You seem annoyed by that,” he surmises and I’m about to exchange unamused looks with Gwen but she’s giving me more of an evil grin than anything else.
“Annoyed?” I look back at Mark, who isn’t on my personal list of repulsive people. All the same, “far from it.”
“You’re totally annoyed.”
I’m annoyed that I was subjected to hearing all that shit in there. That snakeskin boot wearing dingbat really goes around feeling like it was everybody else’s fault but her’s!
“Annoyed by entirely different things, actually. Not everything revolves around you,” I unintentionally channel that feeling into my words.
“Simmer down, it’s not his fault,” Gwen holds my gaze with a slight arch of her eyebrow before telling us she’ll go get a ‘much needed’ drink and laughing to herself.
“What’s not my fault?” Mark turns to me with a manic grin. “That I’m so dang attractive? What can I say…”
“Sure, yeah,” I laugh out. It’s not his fault.
“It’s all that canned fish I eat. Makes my coat real shiny,” he shakes his hair sort of towards my face, making me laugh more. “Will you look at that, you think I’m attractive. Can you feel yourself being attracted to me right now?” He puffs out his chest.
“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not even the most attractive person I was stuck in an elevator with,” I click my tongue but I’m afraid it won’t mask my blushing face, goddamnit. Also, that was an objective lie… The only other person I’ve ever been stuck in an elevator with is my brother… I really don’t understand why I need to be blushing right now though. Also…I’m totally his type? What does that even mean? “What are you doing hanging out around women’s restrooms anyway, you creep?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he proceeds to grin at me like he just won the lottery. What a weird, objectively attractive guy…
“Your ex roommate is here, did you know?” I blurt.
Mark narrows his eyes at me. “She is?” He asks slowly.
“Yeah.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah…” I watch him, waiting for him to say something more, but he doesn’t.
I almost want to tell him that we overheard her stupid conversation… But not really at all, I really don’t. Telling him that she was talking about how she cheated on him because of me kind of feels like it’s neither here nor there. And either way, he doesn’t seem to want to talk about her. He really doesn’t seem to want to talk about many things. Whatever breakthroughs we had made on our phone calls when he was in Europe now feel like a distant memory from another lifetime. It’s all just shooting the shit now.
“Oh hey guys!” Lizzy bounces over to us with a big grin. “Are you going to the restroom?”
“No, I just came out…”
“Can you wait for me? I’ll be quick!” With those words, she disappears behind the door, so I remain stood in my spot, and so does Mark.
Before even five seconds pass though, Stone shows up holding two bottles of beer. After briefly explaining that it was Steve’s but he’s nowhere to be found, and after some mild quarreling between me and Mark, he gives the spare one to me.
Lizzy comes back out of the restroom and the two guys soon start talking about some band they saw together some years ago, and my mind slips away from the conversation entirely as we all make our way towards a booth where Lizzy apparently last saw some of our friends. So, wait…Kristine thought Mark’s into me? She never said anything about that to him though; to him, she made it sound like I was the culprit and the problem… He brought up her suspicions of me that one time during a phone call; at the time, it didn’t sound like anything serious, I thought he was just making fun of his ex but after hearing Kristine talk about it, it seems it was a big point of contention in their relationship. Well, at least for her?
And she felt insecure about me? Really? I don’t even know how to categorize that in my head. I mean, did she just say all that shit tonight because she’s drunk? Although… She did yell at me that one time that I must be happy that they broke up… Maybe it’s me who’s too drunk to make sense of it all..? But how could she look at me, then look at her own reflection in the mirror, and decide that I’m a threat of any sort? It’s absurd! The part about Mark treating her like shit though… That I get. That should be enough for anyone to leave a relationship. Although ideally not via cheating… But he always acted like she’s the worst, most annoying person he knows. He was asking me what music she likes, for god’s sake! What the hell was that about? What kind of a person is that oblivious to someone they’re in a relationship with? But I’m somehow at fault for moving into that particular building!? Shit, I need to stop spiraling… I can overthink this some other time, preferably when I’m not supposed to be hanging out with people and celebrating Gwen climbing the rungs of her career ladder.
“Oh yeah, Xana made you a bracelet,” Stone’s voice pulls me out of my head and my eyes focus on his outstretched arm, holding a beaded little thing.
“She really likes me, huh?” I mumble as I take it and slip it on my wrist.
“And, trust me,” Stone’s face falls into a serious sort of stare, “she really doesn’t like a lot of people.”
“She does do a lot of drugs though,” Mark throws me a shit eating grin. “She probably just thinks you’re a particularly friendly Leprechaun.”
Right… Lately, it feels a little bit like Mark was kidnapped in Europe and replaced with a pre-programmed clone. I mean… I don’t know, it just feels like our conversations were a lot more interesting, specifically while he was away, and now… Now it feels like our interactions have hit some sort of a new level of superficial… Not that I’m trying to share weird secrets and talk about our deepest fears all the time, but he seems to be in this constant mode of mind-numbing, clumsy banter; just acting really weird and, I don’t know, awkward maybe. I know we never had the world’s closest friendship but I feel more distant from him now than I did a few weeks ago. I felt then like I could say more than I can now. I felt more understood then, maybe? Or maybe it’s just the confessional effect; it is oddly much easier to have honest and vulnerable conversations with a plastic phone receiver.
Either way, back then he called me, he sought me out, over and over again. And now… Wait, is he trying to signal to me that he’s not interested in me romantically? I mean… I’m definitely guilty of doing that in the past, I have to admit. In some friendships, there comes that moment when you start wondering if maybe the other person is starting to veer off from your shared understanding of your relationship and then…then you act like a boring idiot, right? Is that what Mark is doing to me? Does he believe what Kristine said, that I’m probably in love with him? Does he just want to be safe and really drive home that he is not attracted to me?
Goddamnit, I really have to stop spiraling. I need another dri—
“Kit Kat!”
All my blood rushes to my ears as they register the voice carrying those words to me over the suddenly muffled noise of the barroom; my eyes quickly find a face that seems to be at the end of a very long and narrow tunnel… A face I used to stare at endlessly a couple of years ago.
I yank myself out of the anxious daze, stumbling over my speech as I do, “H—Hi.”
"That's all I get?" He’s…stiff. I can tell he didn’t expect to run into me either. Yet, he came to say hi. And I’m sitting at a booth full of people, sandwiched by Lizzy and Stone, so he really had to commit to coming over to say hi, I’m not just lingering somewhere alone…
"Uh, no... I mean... How've you been?"
"Doing well." He holds my gaze for a second, and I get the feeling that he’s letting me know he’s not coming with swards and daggers. "It's good to see you."
"Really?" I can’t help but question.
"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"
"Seriously?" What a fuckin’ poser, can’t ever be honest! I’ve seen him twice in the last couple of years and both times were just appalling. I somehow didn’t see him for the first three months right after we broke up. I know that was intentional on his behalf and I’m just really shocked he somehow managed to avoid me for that long, considering we had a lot of the same friends. I mean, really, a lot.
The first time I saw him, it happened around a handful of people, on campus, completely unexpectedly. He acted like nothing had happened, like we were somehow back to before we had been together for a year. And I was so caught off guard – by seeing him and seeing him behave like that – that I clumsily followed suit. We made some loose promises on how we all should go see some movie soon and then I didn’t see him for almost a year.
The second time I saw him, I was really drunk and I made some unnecessary catty comments towards him. He acted almost like we’d never even met, so short and cold. But I knew he felt really hurt that time, I really shouldn’t have said some of the stuff I did. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway… "Anyway, this is… Oh right, you guys know each other..." I start to point at Lizzy, Nadia, and Julian.
“Right, hi guys,” he waves at them and then sticks his hand out at Mark, who’s sitting on the other side of Stone, “Will.”
“Hi, Will.” Mark dramatically wipes his own hand on his jeans leg before going in for a shake. “Mark Arm.”
“I’m Stone but I have a hand condition, I can’t shake hands.” This causes Mark and Steve to chortle.
“And those are their real names. Steve,” the guy just waves at Will stiffly. I don’t know why they’re so weirdly rude but I’m really enjoying actually, in a perverted, immature kind of way.
“Pleasure,” my ex says. “So... What are you guys up to?"
“Not climbing a corporate ladder,” Mark sounds like he can’t get the words out quick enough. Will does have a very clean cut look to him, I guess…
“Well, actually,” I stop myself from laughing at Stone’s words still bouncing in my ears, “Gwen is,” I point out.
“Yeah, you know how she’s fluent in Spanish… Well, she figured that would be a good place to get her foot in the door of the world of politics, so…”
I stop listening to Lizzy pretty quickly; really, my own thoughts drown her words out without me meaning to… What kind of a horror movie is this where everyone’s exes are showing up left and right!?
I wish I was making out with a hot new…or fake boyfriend now, so that maybe Will wouldn’t have come up to our booth, because… I just don’t know what I’m supposed to say or do here. I think any kind of friendship to speak of has sailed away a long time ago, I hardly even know him anymore. He could be an entirely different person by now and honestly, I don’t feel like who I was back then either. And instead of being able to at least act like I have my shit together, like my life is going somewhere, I’m just sitting here surrounded by the same college friends and some rockstar wannabe guys… Well, I guess that’s mostly just Stone, I don’t think world fame is in Mark or Steve’s daydreams… Either way, something about this whole situation feels very uncool.
“You still roll your own cigarettes?” Will’s words yank me out of my head, into the loud and crowded bar.
“Yeah… Sometimes… I don’t have any tobacco on me right now…” Why do I sound like that!?
“I just have these but I’ll share,” he lifts a pack of filterless Camels.
Maybe I should pretend to faint, I wonder as I start getting up, prompting Stone and Mark to do the same, so I can get past them. Actually, both of the guys express an interest in stepping out for a smoke as well, but Lizzy suggests – none too subtly – that they all get more beer instead.
As Will and I step outside, the conversation continues to be stiff and distant; we briefly talk about work, at which point I have to tell him that I work at a thrift shop, “although I’ve been interviewing some places that are more in line with my skills,” I say vaguely, right after he tells me he’s recently been promoted in whatever stuffy accounting firm he works at.
I can’t figure out why he’s being so overly diplomatic; a simple ‘hi’ back inside would have sufficed, yet we’ve been sharing pleasantries for ten minutes now. We laugh at a couple of old college stories, although I don’t think they’re that funny, nor do I care to talk about them, especially considering we’re sort of tiptoeing around the main college anecdote, which was our relationship. Not that I want to talk about that either. Although maybe some things would be good to acknowledge? But do I need him for that?
There was nothing visibly wrong in our relationship that would have made it obvious just how incompatible we were. But it just wasn’t going well, ever, nor as the one year mark was approaching, and then he went ahead and said what he did and I felt like he didn’t see me, at all. I felt like it was a joke, like he was just following some textbook guidelines on how a relationship is supposed to progress, not taking into account what was actually going on. How I felt. He didn’t see me.
And over the last couple of years I realized that I didn’t see him either. I was so hurt by him but with time I realized that I…well, I lead him on, right? I don’t think there’s another way to say it. I stayed with him because it was comfortable and familiar and convenient. What a fucked up thing to do to someone you care about. Wow, when you think about just how dysfunctional and emotionally unavailable I used to be, it really makes me look great nowadays.
“Hey you,” another face from my deep past drifts towards us; I always liked Simone, I thought she was cool, but I mostly just knew her as Will’s friend back in college. And there she is now, wrapping her arm around his waist.
“Simmy, you remember Kat, right? From UW,” Will points at me with a big excited grin.
I spend at least ten more excruciating minutes having almost the same conversation I just had, but now also learning about Simone’s amazing career, also in accounting…
* * *
Kit Kat!” Some clean-cut dark-haired guy materializes at the end of our table, a bizarelly expressionless smile stretching his mouth as he looks down at Novak. It’s somehow both really weird and very fitting that someone who looks like him would call her Kit Kat…
“H— Hi," Kat breathes with the kind of look on her face that tells me she doesn't fully believe her eyes. Interesting…
"That's all I get?" The bozo pretend-pouts.
"Uh, no... I mean... How've you been?" Wow. Whoever this guy is, I should congratulate him on being the only person to render Katie Novak actually speechless.
"Doing well." Awkward pause. "It's good to see you."
"Really?" Kat immediately narrows her eyes.
"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" The guy seems slightly annoyed now.
"Seriously?" Kat basically whispers and then seemingly decides to change course completely, not without a slight shake of her head. "Anyway, this is... Oh right, you guys know each other..." Her hand freezes mid-air as she gestures at their three mutual friends.
“Right, hi guys. Will,” the guy sticks his hand out. A little corporate for a shithole of a bar like this maybe, but okay…
“Hi, Will. Mark Arm.”
“I’m Stone but I have a hand condition, I can’t do handshakes.” Nice.
“Believe it or not, those are their real names. Steve.”
“Pleasure. So... What are you guys up to?"
“Not climbing a corporate ladder,” I shrug.
“Well, actually, Gwen is,” Kat corrects me and Lizzy launches into a full recap of how Gwen got to be working at an embassy.
“We don’t affiliate with her though,” Steve jokes with a straight face. “Can’t trust politicians.”
“Unless she can get me into Area 51, that would be worth a political affiliation,” I add.
“I actually have some dirt on her,” Stone bobs his head. I don’t know what it is about this Will guy but it’s really fun to talk nonsense to him and watch him try to act like we’re having a normal conversation.
Before too long, Will whisks Kat away and I end up sitting next to Lizzy. So I guess they're college friends.
“Wait, so why did they break up again?” Nadia eyes the spot in the crowd where the two just disappeared. Oh?
“Wait, don’t you know?” Lizzy scrunches her nose instead of answering the question.
“I don’t think so… I don’t even remember who broke up with who.”
“So, are we getting beer or..?” Stone, who’s sitting on the other side of me now, leans over to look at Lizzy.
“Huh?”
“You said you’re buying us beer?”
“I don’t think I said that!” She giggles. “Anyway, I just wanted to give them some privacy. Will obviously wanted to talk to Kat alone.”
“Unbe-fucking-lievable,” Stone sighs.
“I’ll take one too,” I tell him and Steve as they get up from their seats, seeing as I have absolutely no intentions of leaving this booth right now.
“They just always seemed to have the best relationship, that’s what I remember most.” The best relationship? Novak? The woman who kept sneaking her boy toy through my skylight for a couple of months because she didn’t want her live-in friends to know about their hook-ups?
“I don’t know if she was all that happy…” Julian mumbles none too loudly but Lizzy either chooses to ignore him or actually doesn’t hear him.
“Will told Kat he loved her? On their one year anniversary..?” She starts as if to jog Nadia’s memory; as if this intimate information about her friend’s relationship should be common knowledge. Although this somehow makes more sense than the ‘best relationship’ part. For some reason, I can picture Kat breaking up with her boyfriend because he tells her he loves her, on their anniversary.
“Oh yeah… I sort of remember something… Wait, so what happened?” Yeah, what happened? How exactly does an ‘I love you’ on an anniversary break up a relationship, I really want to know?
I lose track of the story for a moment when some guy spots Julian and they say their ‘hi’s unnecessarily loudly before both departing.
“…took them forever to finally get together? They just didn’t have a good rhythm in their relationship sometimes,” Lizzy goes on dishing out all of Kat’s secrets like she’s recapping the last book she read. And I hang on every word, of course, because I am pathetic like that. So I continue twirling my empty beer bottle on the table while trying not to look too interested in what she’s saying. “That’s what my mom always says. You gotta find someone you have the right rhythm with, you know? Kat and Will, though… Well, you remember, everybody could tell they liked each other for a long time, stuff like that… Anyway, towards the end Kat was always trying to get out of spending time with him… Although that’s not how she put it – according to her, she was always mysteriously busy with other things…” Is it even legal for me to be listening to this?? It’s seriously starting to feel like some kind of a violation of Kat’s rights. And yet, I don’t move from my spot.
“Yeah, I kind of remember that… Although I didn’t think it was that serious?” Nadia says and consequently prompts Lizzy to go on.
“It was a weird time, honestly…”
“No pun intended, Mark,” I hear Steve say my name and Stone chortle, as the former sets a beer in front of me.
I have no idea what he’s talking about so I mirror his grin. “None taken.”
“…and then on their one year anniversary, Will took her out to dinner… You remember how he is, always so thoughtful.”
“Yeah, if I know anyone who I’d call a gentleman, it would be Will.” What? Kat’s ex is a gentleman? What does that even mean?
“Yeah, so they went out and I guess he had planned to tell her he loved her that night so he did, and she…” Lizzy narrows her eyes in thought, “she wasn’t ready to say it back yet and long story short, he was really hurt by it and it turned out to be something they couldn’t recover from.”
I would love to be a fly on the wall when Kat recounts the tale of her failed relationship because I have a feeling that Lizzy’s version might not be totally accurate. But still. If there’s any woman I know who’s honest enough to not say ‘I love you’ back to her boyfriend of one year, I’d have bet my money on Novak. The paradoxical surprise here is that she would even stay in a relationship for that long when it wasn’t working, by the sound of it.
“Shit, I remember them running into each other a few weeks after they broke up. It felt super awkward…” Lizzy’s friend bobs her head.
“Sorry Mark,” Lizzy pats my arm unexpectedly, almost making me flinch. “You’re probably bored to death by all this girly chitchat,” she laughs and I notice only then that Steve and Stone have disappeared again. I don’t think I’ve ever conceptualized Novak having exes. Other than that one cavorting meathead. How weird.
* * *
It makes sense that Will is living a perfect life, working his perfect job and dating the perfect woman…all perfect to him. It just makes sense that that’s how things would go for him. He’s just never been the kind of person to go with the flow, see what happens, take risks… Which is, funnily, what I liked about him when we first met. He was so smooth and so well-timed and put together…
I just always felt like he cared so much about what people think that I rarely ever saw him how he really was, not how he wanted to appear. And it always seemed like it was so easy for me to then also not be too much of myself. In the end though, I just really felt like we were both moving away from each other. I was so sure that, any day, we would have somehow broken up on very amicable terms. I really thought he felt that way too. And then he told me he loved me and was looking forward to our future anniversaries. What the fuck!? Where was he?? How could he not see our relationship sighing its last breath on its very obvious deathbed!?
I go back inside, in search of my friends, but find a group of strangers at the booth where we were sitting earlier. I circle around the entire barroom, making sure to pop into the restroom, but I can’t find anyone. I do eventually see Nadia in the crowd but she’s now joined by people I don’t know…
I wasn’t in love with him, even though I thought I was, or I wanted to be; and that was the problem. I’ve always loved him, since the day I met him at that crusty sports bar during my first week of college. He was a sophomore and had so much dignity about him, but he laughed at my grimy jokes and took me into his friend group all the same. I always felt like I was meant to meet him back then.
I walk back outside and that’s where I find everyone; I immediately spot Gwen, she’s smoking and Lizzy’s talking her ear off about something (probably Jerry). I see that a few guys are huddled together, probably talking about their respective bands… Not Mark though; Mark is trying to…
“Are you having a seizure?” I ask as I approach him.
“Does this look like a seizure to you?” He frowns at me momentarily while repeatedly putting his hands on the ground and straightening back up a little.
“I don’t know, I’ve never seen anyone have one…”
“I’m doing a handstand. I just saw some guy do it, surely I can too,” he explains patiently and goes back to it.
“Ah, well let me know if I need to call an ambulance.”
Mark really doesn’t ever seem to care about looking like an idiot…or a clown, maybe clown is nicer; he just goes through life in his own peculiar way. So uniquely him. I always want to be more like that.
As I turn to join Gwen and Lizzy, he takes his blazer off and throws it at me. “See!” He beams as he finally manages to take a few…steps? On his hands, legs flailing in the air. I laugh and, feeling the chilly air of the evening creep up my back, I poke my arms through his blazer sleeves. “Try not to sweat into it. I just did laundry—Ah!!” He crumples to the ground after another five second success.
Why does he always have to say things like that to me? I am clearly not a viable object of his affections, I don’t know what Kristine was on to come to her conclusions. She should probably see a specialist of some kind, something isn’t connected right in her brain.
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