“Couldn’t you choose someone better? He creeps me out,” she said. “We could both love Bradley Cooper together.” She hated anything that had vast popularity. Bradley Cooper was a joke; she didn’t actually love Bradley Cooper. She was annoyed with humor—that included comedies and Saturday Night Live. What kind of monster hated Saturday Night Live? There was a long list, in fact, of things she hated: Beyoncé, and pizza, baseball, and Alicia Silverstone in Clueless, Bananagrams—which was our favorite game. We held our ground, teaming up against her to argue the merits of baseball, making fun of her for not having a sense of humor. She was unfazed and I wondered what it was like to not care about what people thought of you.
Darius loved the dude, and I loved Darius for loving the dude. I wasn’t an unsupportive cunt like Jolene. He would see that soon. l
“Leave him alone,” I’d say to her. “Let him love what he loves.” And the corners of her mouth would turn up in a little smile like she had a secret.
It bothered me that she rode him about stuff. She had no idea how lucky she was to be with someone like him. She had no idea how lucky she was, in general. If I had her life I’d do things differently, that’s for sure. Starting with Darius. I’d treat him like a man, show more interest in what he loved and who he was. I pictured her sucking his dick, pausing to say, “Has it always looked like this? I’m not sure I like it. Let’s both love something else together.” Selfish bitch.
People like Jolene should be in relationships only with themselves. What message was she relaying to Mercy about her father? That his meatloaf wasn’t good enough? That his idols were creepy? It was wrong, all of it. They were wrong together. And besides her disdain for everything he loved, Jolene was always bent over her phone texting. He’d have to say things two or three times before she’d look up, a baffled expression on her face. I would bet there was someone else, that’s why she was so disillusioned with Darius. You didn’t let go of one man without having another lined up to take his place.
I texted him every day just to check on him—because someone should. He was as broken and lonely as I was. We’d trade jokes and memes, urging each other through the hard days. I was always eagerly waiting for his next text, his words meant just for me. I filled in where Jolene slacked off, telling him what an awesome dad and husband he was, asking about his day. I was willing to do that. Pretty soon we had a camaraderie. He would text first, then I would text back and we’d go like that all day. I wondered if he told her how often we texted, or if this was just between the two of us. An almost lover secret. Did he think about me when he was with her? I didn’t feel guilty because I knew in my gut she was texting someone too. For Darius’s birthday I bought three tickets to see Jeff Bridges in concert at a steep six hundred dollars. I mentioned it casually to Jolene one afternoon to feel her out.
“An actual concert where Jeff Bridges sings?” she asked, incredulous. “That’s a thing?”
“Well yeah, dummy. What else happens at a concert?”
She took out her stainless steel spray and began polishing the dishwasher.
“Shit, well it sounds like the worst night ever, but okay.” She laughed. “Did you buy the tickets already?”
“Not yet,” I lied. “I didn’t want to buy tickets to something you wouldn’t go to.”
“Lots of things I’ll do for love.” She rubbed the dishwasher with extra vigor. I rolled my eyes when she wasn’t looking.
“That’s really nice of you, Fig. He’s going to be so excited.”
Yeah, he was. Jeff Bridges gave him an emotional hard on; I was hoping my thoughtful present would give him a real one. Fig, he’d say—you’re so good to me. I bet you’d feel good, too. I immediately felt guilty for that thought. Jolene was a decent person and my friend. She’d never done anything but encourage me. It was me. I was the bad person. I fantasized about having what she had, but I would stop. It wasn’t her fault that she was so fucked up, things just happened to people.
Darius was excited when I presented him with his tickets. Not in the eternal jumping for joy way, but his eyes sort of twinkled and his voice went an octave higher when he thanked me. I preened under his attention.
“We can go out for dinner too,” I said. “Anywhere you like.”
“The Dude,” he said, in a gravelly voice. I was so pleased with his reaction, so pleased with myself. It had cost a lot of money, but could you put a price on love?
This was my future, this man. I loved him. He was everything I’d wanted when I was young and stupid, but instead I’d settled for George … dull, monotone, silent … George. He’d been waiting for me, only he didn’t know it yet. The two of us carved out of the same block of wood. But, he was coming around. I could see it in his eyes. He used to glow whenever Jolene walked into the room, now he looked skeptical … bored. I’d be bored with her too. She was exhausting in her stands against things. But, he’d never be bored with me—I’d make sure of that. We belonged together. It was only a matter of time.