Kayla: You were this close to being passable, but that misogyny shit knocked you down five pegs.
Betts: How the hell is that misogyny? Do you all live in crazy town?
Zay-Rod: B, think back a couple minutes. Strategy, dude.
Betts: Oh, right. [Puts his head in his hands] I’m a useless man.…
Kayla: Insincere.
Pam: I know, right?
Betts: I can’t do or say anything right.
Kayla: [Back to massaging his shoulders] Now we’re getting somewhere.
Betts: I will stop talking now.
Max: Good choice.
The girls and I debrief at the Chandler Mall food court.
“Zay is smokin’,” Pam says, as she picks at her usual Panda Express junk.
“He goes by Zay-Rod,” I say.
“Whatever. He’s hot.”
Kayla is off her diet and is eating a chocolate chip cookie from Panera for dinner. “How come you get the hot one and I get the one I’m not interested in?”
Pam shrugs. “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. And anyway you have Shaun.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” Kayla says, pouting. “He was absolutely, one hundred percent leading me on, which, if you think about it, is ironic because two years ago I would have totally ignored him in the hallway.”
“Which speaks highly of your character,” I add.
“Well, yes. But really we’re talking about the social order here. And speaking of which, I feel like there are gonna be two couples and I’m gonna be stuck with Ron Betts, who is … basic.”
“Basic dude bro,” Pam says, slurping her soda.
“Agreed,” I say. “Is Max?”
Kayla shakes her head. “That boy is quality. You need to keep riding that.”
“I’m not —”
She smiles in a way that tells me she’s somewhat kidding.
“So let me run something by you,” I say.
Neither girl stops chewing in any way that connotes, I’m listening. I go on anyway.
“I’m working on this poem. I’ve been thinking about the connections between people. That Max and I have gone to the same school for all these years and we didn’t even know each other until some crazy coincidence that he happened to walk by the food truck when my mom was melting down.”
Kayla suppressed a smirk. “Did we know that?”
“I think so?”
“Lydia Edwards in Super Fragile House Widows of Chandler.”
A bubble forms in my throat, and I swallow it. “So anyway, a big coincidence leads us to meet, and now, I don’t know if he’s like my forever boyfriend, but he’s important in my life. And maybe you and Zay-Rod? I dunno.”
“I’m not even tryin’ to —” Pam says, but a look in her eyes tells me she’s thought a lot about it since the other night when the six of us got together.
“So connections. How does it all work? Is there a God that does this, or is it all just coincidence? And like the movie Sliding Doors. Did you see that? Gwyneth Paltrow gets on a subway, and in an alternate universe she doesn’t, and her life is drastically altered either way.”
I have so much more to say, and I know this is a stretch. I knew it when I started talking. But that’s probably why I did. Because I feel like with Pam and Kayla, I’m forced to play this character. The GBF. Gay Best Friend. Campy and snarky and all on the surface. And I know that I’m not just that. And neither are they. I’ve known both Pam and Kayla for a long time, and while the moments have been few and far between, they’ve happened. I like them. I want more of them.
“It’s summer,” Kayla finally says.
“Yes …” I respond.
“I don’t do ideas in the summer.”
Pam says, “I’m with K. Save that shit for fall.”
I’m used to trash talk, but for some reason this hits me hard in the chest. Like a sucker punch. I clench my teeth and avert my eyes so I don’t say something I can’t take back later. They don’t seem to notice my reaction. Kayla kind of looks at me for a second and I wonder if she’s going to apologize. But then she doesn’t. At all.
“Let’s do another makeover,” Kayla says. “You’re not as white as usual. Probably because of the food truck and you being outside so much. Plus we need to find you food truck chic.”
Pam says, “Yes. That.”
I stand then, because I’m so not in the mood.
“Pass,” I say.
Kayla laughs. “Pass? You can’t pass.”
“Queer card,” I mumble, but I’m over it.
She says, “Overruled. White girl card.”
And for once in my life, I say no to Kayla.
“Overruled. Human,” I say, barely choking the words out. “Taking an Uber home. Bye.”
I ignore texts from Kayla and Pam as I wait for the Uber. While I wait, I get a crazy idea. I tell the driver to take me to Whole Foods instead of home. I know it’s expensive, but enough is enough. The Go-Gurt episode really bothered me. I need to help Mom eat healthier.
So even though we’re at a money deficit with the truck I buy loads of fruit and vegetables, and stuff like unsweetened almond milk, and boneless, skinless chicken breasts and things I can use to make a marinade, because I’ve been watching Max for the past few weeks and we have a grill and I’m going to use it from now on. I don’t buy anything frozen. I don’t buy her cereal or snacks. Just real food, and when I wait for my Uber home, with my two bags of groceries that cost $115 (I know, right?), I feel good about myself.
There are texts from Pam and Kayla.
Pam: K, so … we talked about it, and you get a pass on being RUDE because we were bein kinda shitty. Sorry. U okay? We’re worried about you. Your different.
Kayla: I’m sorry too, sweetie
Me: Thanks. I love you. Sorry for walking out. I’m changing and I kinda like it, ok?
Pam: That’s cool
Kayla: Yup
Me: Thx
Kayla: And your really not having sex and hiding it from us?
Me: I would not do that. Srsly
Pam: Cool. We’ll stop messing with u about it
Me: No you wont <smiley face>
Kayla: (After sending a meme of an actress dramatically blowing a kiss) Prolly not luvu
Me: (After sending a meme of an actor catching a kiss) Luvu
Pam: (After sending a meme of a big woman kissing a camera lens, leaving a lipstick mark) Luvu
I smile in the back of the Uber. I’m growing up. I’m asserting myself with Kayla and Pam. I’m gonna start taking better care of my mom. It’s all good.
When I get home and start unpacking groceries, Mom is on the couch, watching House Hunters with a Diet Pepsi and a Twinkie. Meal of champions. Dorcas is on her lap. So much for her being a person who does things.
“Ooh, Whole Foods,” she says. “Food truck stuff? How fancy.”
“Nope,” I say, opening the refrigerator and putting everything away. “This is for us. Like the Greek yogurt you wanted. I thought I’d go the next step. More vegetables and fruit, less prepared meals and crap.”
She laughs.
“Why are you laughing?”
“That’s really sweet, but. You don’t get to decide what I eat. I don’t like vegetables. You know that.”
I shut the refrigerator. “You said you were going to do better. I’m just trying to keep you accountable, like you asked —”
“Vegetables are awful,” she says. “They grow in dirt, Jordan.”
I crack up. “We should sell that slogan to the vegetable lobby.”
“Seriously,” she says. “I’m not doing green stuff. There’s only so much change I can take, okay?”
She takes a bite of her Twinkie, and a twinge of something goes through my chest. “That crap will kill you,” I say.
She exaggeratedly lies back and rolls her eyes back into her head like she’s becoming a corpse. “Well hurry up Twinkie,” she says.
“Mom,” I say. “That’s so not funny.”
“Oh my God!” she shouts, and I am stunned frozen. “I get it! You’re perfect. I’m a total fuckup. I am so far below acceptable and there’s about zero chance that will ever change. I get it, okay?”
The energy in the room shifts, lightning fast. Dorcas barks and scurries out the dog door, like she feels it. I stare at my mom with my mouth open. Words do not come out. I don’t even have a coherent thought of how to respond to that.