Shanna and Meredith have a table in the corner and wave me over.
Meredith looks at me over the rim of her glasses, like I’m a kid in school who’s done wrong. “So. Fucking wasn’t enough? Promise me you had a pre-nup,” she tells me as I slide into a chair.
So we’re going straight for first degree, I take it.
“We didn’t,” I start, and sigh, rubbing the heel of my palm into my eye. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Promise me you used a condom. Or used the pre-nup as a condom,” she says, adding three teaspoons of sugar to her espresso. “Because the last thing you need right now is fucking genital warts.”
Someone hisses at us from over at another table, a family with two small kids. Meredith clears her throat.
Oh shit. This is going to end with someone being arrested and someone else probably being thrown into the canal.
“Save it. I’ve had all the drama I need today,” I say, grabbing her arm. “Now buy me chocolate because I want it and because I make you a lot of money.”
Meredith nods, looking proud. “I knew I’d taught you well.”
She waves for the waiter while Shanna rubs my shoulder. The look in her eyes is soft, full of concern.
“So what happened? He gave you the brush-off?” Her eyes harden a little. After she heard the kinds of things Drew was saying to me, it took me sitting on the phone with her for an hour to prevent Shanna from driving to his new apartment to give him hell.
I smile. “Don’t worry, he’s not the epic disaster of humanity that Drew was. It was adult, grown-up. You know. Grown-up-ish. We realized that there was nothing holding us together. We don’t live in the same state. A couple of good lays doesn’t guarantee you a lifetime of happiness.”
“Maybe not, but it’s better to start off fucking great than fucking awful,” Meredith says conversationally. The mother at the other table makes a shushing sound, and Meredith shushes right back. “Do I have to sell my tits to get a waiter or what?” she mutters.
She definitely earns her fifteen percent commission.
“So there’s no way you can work it out? You seemed into him,” Shanna says, squeezing my hand.
I play with the sugar packets. Just leave me here with my sugar and Stevia friends, and we shall build a fortress together to guard against men and heartbreak and bitter coffee or something.
“I kind of left the door open, and he politely closed it and then shouted no thanks through it. Like I said, I can’t blame him.” I sigh and fiddle with the straps of my purse.
“Much as my motto towards men is ‘fuck them, then eat them,’ ” Meredith says, looking in her compact mirror and adjusting her makeup, “I have to ask: do you think he could be doubting this whole thing as much as you are?” She snaps the case closed and looks at me, her eyeliner much better. “The only thing men fear more than professional catastrophe or debilitating illness is rejection. Maybe he thought he’d ask you on a date and that you’d turn him down. Nothing makes their testicles retreat into their bodies more than a woman giving them a pitying look and saying no. Weak little shits.”
“You know, there is such a thing as reverse sexism,” Shanna says flatly. “Some people pretend there isn’t, but it exists.”
I tune out their critique of third wave feminism for a little trip to my mind palace. This is where I get all of my most important thinking done. It’s great here. I have every issue of the Dark Phoenix saga in mint condition. The Great Mouse Detective plays on a loop in the background. David Tennant and Chris Eccleston are letting me have this thinking moment on my own, mercifully.
Maybe Meredith’s right. Maybe Nate just needs to know what’s in my mind. And in my heart? Fuck, maybe. I haven’t had these feelings in so long, since Drew gutted me and left me to get back on my feet and move on, alone. On the outside I looked fine, but inside, I was hollow.
I didn’t mind, though. I mean, not much. The empty shell was held together with nothing more than strong will and a lot of root beer. But I don’t want that to be my life, walking around with an invulnerable air and living alone.
So maybe . . . maybe if I just tell him the truth.
I don’t want any hot chocolate now. I’m full of purpose, dammit.
The waiter comes over to me. I look up, ready to tell him no thank you, that I’m good, when his eyes light up.
“Oh thank God! It’s you,” he says, clapping a hand over his heart.
“Uh. Is this about last night?” I say sheepishly. Man, I really was a busy little rabbit, wasn’t I? “If so, I’m sorry for anything I did or said or fondled.”
The waiter waves his hand, dismissing it. “Don’t even worry. It’s Vegas. I’ve seen worse. But I’m so glad you’re back. We were all super freaked out. Here, hold on.” With that mysterious comment, he runs back to the counter and talks with the girl.