“Of course not. It’s not like you hired a prostitute to try and seduce him to prove a point. Did you?”
“No! Of course not, how could you think that?”
“Well, I don’t know, you did ask me if I wanted to stake out one of his late-night office meetings with you,” she says, sheepish.
Although she may have a point, Luanne is bound by the code of girlfriends to be on my side no matter how crazy I get. Her reluctance to see my behavior as anything less than logical has me scooting to the edge of the sofa and crossing my arms in self-righteousness.
“Now wait just a minute,” she says, placing her hands on my shoulders to keep me in place. “Of course I don’t think you hired a prostitute to seduce him. It’s just that, well, you were certain this would happen and…”
“And what, I got what I wanted?” I cry. “That’s pretty much what Tim said.”
I double over, my stomach feels like it’s going to revolt and regurgitate my cheese bagel from this morning. I know she’s right; I’m partly to blame for what happened. In my desperation to avoid a broken heart and repress my intuition, I went too far. I don’t want to be the crazy lady that’s been scheming to trap her boyfriend into happily ever after. I just wanted Tim to be different.
Oh God, here it comes, the ugly cry.
“Shhh, hush now.” Luanne moves from her chair and takes a seat next to me on the sofa. “It’s going to be okay.” She rubs my back in small circles, the way my mama used to do whenever I came home from school, brokenhearted over some pimple-faced boy.
“Ellie, you are a beautiful, funny, talented woman, and Tim is nothing but a selfish, metro-sexual man-whore who doesn’t deserve you.”
“I thought it would be different with him. I thought he might really love me.”
Luanne drapes her arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. “I know you did, sugar. But you’ll find someone else out there who’ll treat you better.”
I wipe my runny nose on the sleeve of my sweater and look Luanne in the eyes. She believes what she’s saying even if I don’t, and that will have to be enough for now.
“Anyway,” she says, “there are more important matters at hand.”
“Like what?”
“Like, did you remember to grab those pumps on your way out the door?”
“Lu!” I can’t stop the bark of laughter that escapes. I give Luanne a soft punch in the arm for ruining my pity-party.
“Thanks, I needed that,” I say, collapsing against the sofa and raking in a deep breath. “And I’m sorry for getting upset with you. I know you’re just trying to help. I guess you’re allowed to be a little smug about all of this. After all, you knew this relationship was bound to self-destruct.”
Luanne stands and walks the few feet it takes to enter her tiny kitchen. “This apartment is made of brick and plaster, honey, not glass,” she calls over her shoulder. “Don’t be looking at me to cast stones. I’ve got enough bad habits without adding know-it-all to my resume.”
Luanne reemerges with two mason jars full of iced tea. “Here, take this,” she says, handing me a glass. “It’ll make you feel better.”
I take a big sip and then slap my hand over my mouth to keep from spitting the stuff back out. I force myself to swallow and the amber liquid burns a trail down my throat, making my eyes sting. “Oh my God, Lu, what kind of iced tea is this?”
“The kind with vodka in it,” she says, taking a long pull from her glass. “Come on, don’t be a baby. If you can’t drink when your heart’s been broken then when the hell can you drink?”
I think of Tim and of all the failed romances that came before him, including that of my parents. Maybe I’m just one of those people destined to be alone. Would that be so bad? I could start over, become an eccentric or a nun. No more broken heart, no more alarm bells.
I extend my arm and touch my glass to Luanne’s. “What the hell, to being psychic.” I down the remaining tea in one go.
“Whatever you say, hon.”
I have to admit, getting sauced in the middle of a workday is pretty fun. After Luanne and I finished off an entire pitcher of the vodka-enhanced iced tea, we each claimed a spot on the floor and