“Are,” I correct her. “We’re still together. We’re just on a break for a couple of weeks.”
That’s what I keep saying. To myself. To my friends. To anyone who will listen.
I don’t even know what it means, though. What’s a break, really? How is not talking to each other and agreeing to go out with other people any different from regular old breaking up?
Toni still hasn’t called me to take it all back. I was so positive that would happen first thing. I guess I don’t know Toni as well as I thought I did.
Maybe I should’ve just let Toni go through with it that night instead of making things worse. I acted like a little kid throwing a tantrum because I wasn’t getting what I wanted.
Thinking about what might’ve happened if I hadn’t fought back makes me nauseated. I stop walking and grab on to the scaffolding to steady myself.
“Right, I know.” Samantha stops with me, not noticing that I’m about to fall over. “It’s got to be hard when you’ve been with someone for so long and then all of a sudden—”
“Hey, now!” I laugh. I let go of the scaffolding and take a step. Then another. Then we’re walking again.
I can do this. I’m not going to throw up at nine in the morning when I’m not even hungover.
“No analyzing!” I say. “This is only about hair, okay?”
“Okay, okay. It’s just that you’ve been acting strange ever since Thanksgiving. Sorry, but I couldn’t help noticing.”
I forgive her, since it’s fine as long as she doesn’t talk about it. We make it the rest of the way to class without further gastrointestinal distress.
After class I go to Ricky’s and pick up some Jet Black Hair Goo. That night Samantha applies said goo to my hair in our bathroom sink. It comes out looking gooier than I had in mind, but I look totally different than I did before, and that was the whole idea.
“You look like Morticia Addams,” Carroll says the next night when he shows up at my room. Samantha took off a long time ago. She said she was meeting up with a guy and might not be back until late.
“I know, right?” I say to Carroll. “Don’t you love it?”
“Not in the slightest, but I love you, dollface.”
Carroll kisses me on the nose with a loud smack. I can tell from his breath that he’s already well on his way to being drunk.
“Did you bring some to share?” I ask.
“Naturally!” He holds up a brown paper bag. “We have to drink out of the bottle unless you have cups.”
I don’t have cups, but that’s fine with me. Carroll’s bag holds a half-empty bottle of cheap white wine, a parting gift from last night’s sketchy hookup.
“What do you do with these guys?” I ask him once we’re nearly done with the bottle. I check my phone. It says it’s at full power but I plug it in again just in case. “Are you being safe, at least?”
“That’s the least of my concerns,” Carroll says. “And for your information, Miss Nosy, we don’t go all the way. Alas, I still have yet to lose the big V.”
“Waiting for Mr. Right?”
“Just Mr. Not Repulsive.”
We finish the bottle—Carroll makes me down the last few chugs on my own, since he had a head start—and leave for the club.
They don’t card us this time, I guess because it’s a weeknight, so we head for the bar as soon as we get inside. The music isn’t as good as I remember, and the place isn’t as crowded as it was last time, but after a couple of shots, I don’t care. I put my phone’s vibrator on High so I’ll know if it rings even if I can’t hear it.
We’re dancing to a remix of some terrible boy band song when Carroll grabs my shoulder and shouts in my ear. “LOOK NINETY DEGREES CLOCKWISE!”
“What?” I’m very, very drunk. Just staying upright requires a lot of effort. I remember what ninety degrees means, but I’m stumped by the clockwise part.
Carroll turns me around. There’s a Latina girl in a black dress looking at us.
“GO DANCE WITH HER!” Carroll shouts.
I shake my head. The movement almost makes me fall over. “I don’t want to dance with her.”
“YOU’RE ON A BREAK! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO HOOK UP WITH OTHER PEOPLE! THAT GIRL’S HOT!”
“THEN YOU GO DANCE WITH HER!”
So he does.
He leaves me alone on the dance floor and goes up to this girl, who’s with a group of friends, and says something in her ear. The girl laughs. Then Carroll puts his arm around her waist and they’re grinding.
I can’t believe it. I push toward them and yell “HEY! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” in Carroll’s ear.
Carroll reaches out and pulls me in until the three of us are smashed up against each other. The girl smiles at me. I want to cry.
“THIS IS MY FRIEND!” Carroll yells to the girl. “SHE AND HER BAT-CRAZY TRANNY GIRLFRIEND ARE ON A BREAK AND SHE’S ALL DEPRESSED ABOUT IT! I NEED YOU TO HELP ME CHEER HER UP!”
“I’M NOT DEPRESSED!” I shout.
“THAT SUCKS!” the girl shouts to me. “YOUR GIRLFRIEND, SHE’S CRAZY!”
“NO, SHE’S NOT! SHE’S GREAT!” Damn, I broke the pronoun rule. “I mean—”