“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” she agreed.
“Does everybody just do that?” I asked in disbelief.
She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well not everybody, but… Maybe you’re a little more, uh, reserved than a lot of people. Your cootch was probably excited to be set free!”
“They think I’m a skank,” I moaned, drawing the crocheted afghan over my forehead. Even though it was sweltering in the bungalow, I liked the familiar feel of the blanket on me.
“Oh, come on. It’s good,” she said, folding her legs under her on the flowered sofa next to me. “It’s a good thing. You did good! Guys don’t think like that anyway. I bet you made a helluvan impression.”
“You don’t think I went too far?”
Silence.
“Oh my goooodddddddd,” I groaned.
“Come on, I’m just kidding,” she said unconvincingly. “But, Bree-- Bree?”
“What,” I grumbled from inside my tent.
“This isn’t like… a sign?”
“A sign?”
“Well… you’re not going to shave your head or anything?”
I flipped the blanket down and stared at her. Her face was all twisted with concern. Just the right amount of concern, though: true and earnest.
“Why would I shave my head?”
She shrugged. “That’s how you crazy white girls do in the movies. I dunno. Every time you get a big life event, whack, no more hair!”
“I thought you would be proud of me.”
She raised her palms to the ceiling. “Oh I am proud of you, girl, you have no idea. I just wish I could have been there! I’da cut that bitch! And him! I cannot believe you just walked out without, like a good nut-punch or anything!”
My head fell back on the sofa, half wishing I could see whatever it was on the ceiling she was always talking to.
“Nope, no nut-punch,” I admitted.
“And you just let her get away too.”
“Well, I left him a note?”
“Oh a note?” she said, her eyebrows going up. “What did the note say? Where did you leave it?”
“Um, on his car. It said You Suck.”
She nodded sincerely. “Wow.”
“Shut up.”
“You suck,” she repeated, her voice gravely sarcastic. “You really said all that?”
“Yeah OK, well… You know what? He does suck. And so does she. I can’t help it if I couldn’t come up with anything better, you know, on the spot like that.”
Melita nodded seriously. I knew if it were her, there would have been some impressive fireworks. She would have made the nightly news. Or not - they probably wouldn’t have ever caught her, she’s so cagey.
“Yeah,” I said finally, letting defeat wash over me like a warm, suffocating bath, “well, I guess that’s that. Both of them. Just… They win.”
The words cartwheeled through my mind. They win. They sure did win. It all must have seemed so funny to them. I never even had a clue. How long had they been winning for? I cringed to think how casual they seemed about it as they were conspiring to rip my guts out. Whitney definitely seemed comfortable in my house.
“Noooo,” Melita said, her voice drawing out for a long time. “They don’t win. They are stuck with each other. You win. You got out, washed that man right outta your hair and outta your vazheen, and look at you. Taking the bull by the china shop--”
“I think you mean horns.”
“Well yeah, girl! That’s the spirit! Grab ahold of them horns!”
“Huuuurgggghhhhh,” I groaned, dragging the afghan over my face again. “No I just wanna hide, Mel. I don’t wanna grab anything.”
“No!” she barked, whipping the blanket off my face. “There will be no hiding, Bree, do you hear me? You already started this so good, girl, I mean damn. You’re going to finish what you started. You’re going to go to the thing and get the job you deserve…. Oooh!”
She clapped her hands under her chin, her cheeks plump and pink.
“Did I tell you I was proud of you?” she squealed.
I nodded, trying not to wriggle under her praise though it was just about the only good emotion in my body right then.
“Because I am so proud of you!” she practically yelled, eyes to the heavens.
“Well, I was kind of hoping you would be,” I admitted.
“You’re movin on up!”
“Yeah, yeah,” I chuckled. It was hard to resist her upbeat attitude when she was in full-on enthusiasm mode. I could feel it seeping through me like sunlight, although the dark boiling slime of anger and sadness still bubbled just below the light. It was going to be hard to ignore.