“Guess I’ll have to invest in a moat.”
Voldemort laughs again. Her girlfriend, Mandy, grabs her hand and glares at me. “Come on. We don’t have anything to say to her.”
My ex gives me a wink before they turn back to the bar. I have to admit that she still has some kind of sex appeal. She isn’t as gorgeous as she was when we got together. The years of drinking and smoking have taken a toll on her skin, giving her a drawn look. The ever-present anger shows in the deep grooves around her eyes and the tight set of her mouth. Still, her eyes are still a pretty shade of blue and her hair which is almost as brown as mine, has only just started to go gray. She’s as tall as Sam, but thinner. She used to work out a lot when we first got together, but lately, she has been doing nothing but drinking, so she’s getting soft and saggy.
Esmé takes my hand and tugs me along. I notice my ex noticing and fight to keep the smile off my face. She’s going to be wondering about this tonight. I give her a big grin and squeeze Esmé’s hand. Sam laughs and we all head toward the door. When we reach it, I turn around once more. “Hey, how’s that twelve step thing going?”
Mandy looks sharply at the ex, and for just a moment, Voldemort’s composure and her smug smile slip. Catching herself, she shrugs and smiles again.
“I’m taking it one day at a time.”
“One drink at a time,” Sam responds.
In the parking lot, we say goodbye to Susannah and Olivia and pile into Sam’s truck. Esmé props herself up on my knee. Her bony butt digs into my thighs and I’m forcibly reminded of Fran. Esmé isn’t quite that skinny, but the comparison is there. I stare out the window, ignoring the fact that she is on my lap. Sam, determining that Esmé lives relatively close to the grill, decides to drop her off first. I’m partly grateful. I’m sure she wants to talk to me about the run in with Voldemort. I never did get to tell her about the letter on my counter. On the one hand, I’d like to talk to Sam alone. On the other hand, I’d kind of like to be by myself for a while.
When we reach Esmé’s house, she gives me a quick hug before sliding off my lap. She thanks Sam and starts up the sidewalk to her house. We watch her until she’s inside the door. Backing down the driveway, Sam is silent for once. Staring out the window, I try to clear my mind, not wanting to think about Voldemort or Mandy or even Esmé. As Sam turns onto my dirt road and starts the long trek up the hill to my house, I’m once again struck with the urge to cry. Blinking furiously, I stare out the window the whole way home.
Chapter Five
The third official meeting of The Love Sucks Club has come to order. We’re hunkered down in a back booth at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant on Fifth Street. The Pit is a dirty, ugly place and the service sucks, but the pizza is awesome. Since most of our friends tend to like to sit in places where you can be assured of not sticking to the seat, we are practically guaranteed privacy. Being the founder and the co-president, I rap the table with my gavel and call for order. Since there are only three members, this is, perhaps, not strictly necessary, but I like to do things by the book. Sam calls attendance.
“Dana?”
“Here.”
“Roxanne?”
“Here.”
“Myself? Here.” She makes a check mark in a spiral notebook and looks up at me. “All present and accounted for.”
“Excellent, excellent. Do you want to read the minutes from the last meeting?” I nod at Roxanne.
“Sure.” Roxanne is a sixty something woman who lives in my neighborhood. We met years ago when she was a co-worker of my ex. For a brief time, I had speculated that they were having an affair, but I eventually came to the conclusion that Roxanne was too classy and smart to get involved with an idiot like my ex. Once my ex got fired from that office and went out to work as a bartender in a string of bars, we didn’t see much of Roxanne. After the breakup, she called me and asked if I wanted to start walking with her. We still meet three times a week in the wee hours of the morning and walk several miles. The first time we walked, I’m pretty sure I didn’t say more than three words. After a couple of weeks, we were talking about everything from our exes to lesbian invisibility to the issue of Trans people in women-only spaces. Despite the twenty year age difference, Roxanne is vital and strong and fit and she keeps me laughing, even when I feel like shit. She’s kept an amazingly positive attitude despite her recent discovery that her long time ex was using her for years. When Sam and I came up with the idea of starting The Love Sucks Club, I instantly thought of Roxanne. Despite her zest for life, she has more reason than anyone to be bitter about love.