(Danica told me to do this instead of my alternate plan involving all of the cigarettes and alcohol in my house)
I needed to call someone the moment I got into my house. I walked in. The living room light was on, Wotan curled up on the couch, sleeping, with his chin up. I ignore the poetry and go to my room. Take off my clothing. Turn off the lights. Turn on the fan and shiver under all of my blankets.
I really wanted to hang out with her. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I had so much fun when I was with her. And I'm not just romanticizing the past. I remember what I didn't like just as much. But we've grown. I told her this, one time, tonight, at the second bar, before I sang "Funny Honey." We've grown up so much. I was a kid when I met you guys.
"You were fifteen."
"I was fourteen. And please." I tell her about the time we were at a fair and the man could show A the special book of riding equipment he made, but not either of us because we were under 18. S was mad at the time, but I couldn't understand why she wanted to see pictures of saddled-up horses. Years later I realized we stumbled across a certain niche, one of many I was inadvertantly exposed to.
"You really didn't know what he was talking about?"
"No!" I want to tell her about the box of sex toys I stumbled across only a year later, but I can't decide whether I should tell her anything at all. I go sing instead. People clap. The astonishingly handsome gay men wink at me.
"I mean, he was fucking weird. He was really into you."
"What are you talking about?" Was?
"He just has really low self esteem. I mean, he would always try and get with girls, and he was like really into you, but also just wanted to make me jealous, but also liked you."
"I was a kid."
"We've been over this, you weren't." I still think I was.
The conversation carries on, just me and her, although I'm only half there. Something piques my interest. I look at Danica, who is facing the opposite direction. I had one beer and a few sips of a screwdriver hours earlier. I'm not drunk. But now's my chance.
"Because I've been hanging out with him a bit this summer."
My turn to nod.
She turns towards her drink. Sips, shoulder to me. Here goes:
"And I slept with him."
She turns around, and for a second I panic. Then she howls.
"Really? Oh my god, how was it? When was this? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"I mean, I don't.... like two months ago? I wasn't sure what you'd say."
"Whatever, it was like six years ago." Good girl. I'm so glad I got this off my chest. I tell her I really just wanted to see if he still had piercings, I had bite marks-
"Well, yea, when someone's about to give me a hickey I tell them no."
"Oh, me too, but these were teeth marks." Her mouth forms an "O," then a wide smile.
"He was always into you."
"Can I tell him?" She points to her friend across the table who hasn't heard anything. She tells him. He looks surprised.
"Does he know him?"
"Oh, he's good friend with his girlfriend."
Of course. The purse, the one time we met. The one who S swears is a lesbian, who her friend says she'll be a lesbian to "anyone who could kill her," which explains everything too. S talks about how pretty she is. Crazy, but pretty. Of course.
S's friend. I ask him, when were they dating.
"Oh, they took a break. You probably slept with him in that break."
I ask when the break was. He thinks:
It was definately two months ago.
"Well, maybe it went til then." He leaves to go smoke, I presume.
S asks if I'm ok. I say I'm not.
"Well, he's just like that. He's always had that self-esteem issue and I sometimes think he hasn't matured since he was 19." When apparently he was into me, when I was 14 and had frizzy hair and a dying dad and no boobs.
"I just feel awful."
"Well, it's his fault."
He comes back awhile later. S and I are still talking. I ask him about the dates again.
"Oh, don't worry about it. I just got off the phone with her-" fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck "-and she knew about you. And it's totally fine."
Everything has fallen into place, and everyone is absolutely fine except for me. I go up to the microphone when my name is called, pulling my best Sally Bowles together. I get whistles, applause, and compliments from the entire bar, but my voice was wavering the entire time.