Convenience and Compatibility (27 page)

The kitchen starts smelling really good and I
walk in to see Mom talking with my sister in a hushed voice.

“Hi.”

“Hi Mallory. Happy birthday.” She gives me a
big hug, holding on a little longer than usual.

“Thanks Christina. Where are the kids? And
Jacob?”

“They’re getting out of the car.”

“What’s for dinner Mom? Something smells
great.”

“Thanks honey. I made beef stroganoff and
salad. Are you ready to eat?”

I nod. I’m actually hungry for the first time
today.

“Sit down and I’ll call Dad.”

I sit and let Christina and Mom wait on me;
refiling my drink, dishing up my food, clearing my plate. We don’t
always get along, but I can tell they are trying and I find it
endearing.

Christina and Mom clean up then surprise me
with a cake. It’s all pink with white stripes and roses – Mom’s
hobby. I can tell she put a lot of work into making the cake and
I’m touched. Christina puts twenty-five candles on the cake and
they all sing and I’m expected to blow out the candles. I hesitate
– what should I wish for? Do I really want to wish to have Dean
back? I watch the candles dripping their wax on the cake and
remember when I was little and Mom told me it was bad luck to not
make a wish on your birthday cake. I deliberate another moment
before I know what to wish for. I wish I was happy being alone, and
blow out the candles.

After everyone has left I help Mom clean up
while Dad naps in front of the TV.

“Thanks for dinner Mom, and the cake. I loved
it.”

“You’re welcome honey.”

“Could I stay here tonight, in the guest
room?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks Mom, I’m going to take a shower.”

I walk away, thankful that Mom hasn’t asked
any questions today. She must see that I need the space. I start
out taking a shower, but after I am clean I decide to take a bath.
I turn off the lights and open the blinds, letting the moonlight
fill the room. The tub is much smaller than Dean’s and my thoughts
drift to his bathroom, and him. I wonder what he is doing now, if
he cares that he broke my heart on my birthday. I’m too tired to
cry as I lie in the hot water of the bath - I’m exhausted and want
to go to bed. I don’t want to think of Dean anymore.

I crawl into the guestroom bed, the one that
Dean and I shared just a few days ago, and fall asleep with my
towel still around me.

I wake up late in
the morning and am
confused as to where I am and why. It all comes flooding back to me
and I cry into my pillow for however long, I don’t know. I stop
when I’m too tired to cry anymore. I have a splitting headache and
need some water. I sit up and lay back down again – today will be
rough until I get myself rehydrated.

I put on my clothes from yesterday and go to
the kitchen. Mom and Dad seem nowhere in the house – it’s so quiet.
They must be at church; I’m glad they’re not here to see my puffy
eyes and red face. I down a glass of water followed by some orange
juice, toast, and some pain relievers.

I sit on the couch and turn my phone on –
there are two messages. My heart skips a beat. Maybe Dean has
called. I listen to the first message: Greg calling from last
night, to make sure I am okay. Shit, I forgot to call him last
night. The other is from Tara this morning, wanting me to call her
back.

I ring Tara.

“Hi Mallory, how are you doing?”

“Better, except for my massive hangover.”

“You didn’t stop drinking after the
restaurant, did you?”

“No, not really.”

“What happened with Greg?”

“Nothing. He took me to my parent’s house.
That’s all.”

“Hmmm.” Tara pauses and I have a feeling she
is not telling me everything.

“What Tara?”

“Just be careful with him, I know you are
vulnerable right now, but so is he.”

I roll my eyes. Who’s side is she on? “I
know.”

There is silence, unnatural for Tara’s usual
chatty personality. I wait for her to talk; somehow I’m guessing
there is more.

“Um, there’s another thing….”

Uh, oh. My stomach churns and I’m
nervous.

“Dean dropped off your suitcase last
night.”

“Oh really? Did you see him?”

“No. The chicken bastard just hit the buzzer
and left it at the door. Asshole.”

“Wow. Well I’ll be home later after my mom
and dad get home from church and can drive me back. I have to work
tomorrow.”

“Yea, me too… okay. See you soon. “

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

Dean must have really wanted to be rid of me
to pack my stuff up and get it out of his house so soon. Part of me
wants my belongings back, and another doesn’t want to be reminded
of seeing them in his house. I hope he tossed the nightie he bought
me – I don’t want to see it again.

It just seems so unreal that we are broken
up; it all happened so fast. When I think about it, we were only
really dating for about two weeks. Easy come, easy go – or
something like that. I don’t think that I could be sadder if we had
been dating a year.

I open up his contact information on my phone
and consider calling him. It would be so easy to press the call
button and hear his voice again. I stare at his name and number.
It’s funny how it feels different now. I erase the contact before I
do something I will regret. Clearly he wants to be rid of me. I
wipe the texts and phone history from my phone as well. It’s almost
like he doesn’t exist and the last two weeks didn’t happen.

The purging makes me feel a bit better – see
that wasn’t so bad. I’m anxious to get home so I can do the same to
the suitcase that’s waiting for me.

Mom makes me lunch when they get home from
church and then she drives me home. I’m thankful that she doesn’t
ask me any questions, just gives me a hug when she drops me at
home. I walk in the door and am relieved that Adam is not there. I
don’t need two of them worrying about me – I’m tired of the pity on
everyone’s faces.

The suitcase is waiting for me in the middle
of my bedroom. It sits there, my last connection to Dean, and I’m
anxious to get this over with. I take a deep breath and sit on the
floor, pulling it to me and opening the clamshell. It’s weird to
think that he touched everything in here. I pick up my scrub top
and it smells slightly of him. The tears start again and I’m mad at
myself – that he has this control over me.

I pick up the clothes and throw them in the
hamper, stopping short when I see the grey nightie. Instead of the
hamper I bunch it up into a ball and grab my house keys as I walk
out the door. I walk through the building and out the back door,
march to the dumpster in the parking lot, and throw the nightie in
it’s dirty opening. The smell of garbage makes me want to gag and I
smile a little, thinking that this is a perfect metaphor for the
situation I am in. At least I can laugh about it, right? Not
really.

I walk back into my room and zip the suitcase
closed, putting it away in the back of my closet. I can’t believe I
was engaged to such an asshole. I lay on the bed and cry, I promise
myself, one last time.

It doesn’t take long before I feel cried out
– I have been crying almost every moment the past two days. I get
up and take a shower, telling myself that he is gone. It’s over –
move on. I get out of the shower resolved to get over him.

Tara and I eat some leftover stroganoff that
my mom graciously put in a Tupperware. Tonight it feels like it
used to – before boyfriends and fiancés. I can do this, I can get
over him. Tara and I make plans for the week – work three days,
then dinner and drinks downtown Wednesday night. Her overly
optimistic resolution that I will be over him within the week fills
me with hope. Can it really be that easy?

I go to bed with a bit of optimism, and I’m
surprised that I’m not a wreck. I lie in my bed and consciously
think of something other than Dean before sleep finally takes
me.

My day at work goes
by fast and I’m
proud of myself for not breaking down to cry at all. I make it a
point not to go into the cafeteria and I make Tara walk down the
creepy back stairwell to exit the building when our shift is over.
I’m not about to step through the main entrance of the hospital
anytime soon. A girl’s got to know her limits.

“Is it okay if Adam comes over tonight?”

“Or course, you don’t need to ask me.”

“I know, it’s just that… I don’t want you to
be alone.”

“Oh.” I glance over at Tara as I’m driving us
home. No longer taking the shortcut through the arboretum, we are
in gridlock on I 5.

“Maybe I’ll keep myself company with my
friend Vodka.” I smirk, but it doesn’t look like Tara likes my
joke.

“No Mallory. You have to work tomorrow.”

“I’m just kidding. I’ll be okay.”

I glance at Tara again and I know she doesn’t
believe me - I don’t blame her. I can’t say I really believe myself
as well. We get home and Adam is waiting at the door with Thai
takeout. Bless his mother-fucking heart. We go upstairs and I enjoy
the four star Phad Thai that makes my eyes water and clears my
sinuses. It’s delicious and I’m so glad that he came over
tonight.

I watch some reality show on TV about living
in wild Alaska. I stay up too late, knowing that I will pay for it
tomorrow. It’s either this, or potentially lying in bed thinking of
Dean.

The next two days follow the same ritual:
breakfast, work, home, dinner, TV. On Wednesday Tara and I take the
bus in, knowing we will probably be in no shape to drive after our
evening out. After work I drag her once again down the creepy
corridor and we take the short walk to downtown Seattle. We’re
lucky this night isn’t raining too hard and our hair is only
lightly misted with water by the time we get to Fifth Avenue and
the restaurant.

We order burgers and red wine, reclining and
enjoying the feeling of being off work until the next week. I sigh
and sip my merlot, my thoughts betraying me and turning to Dean.
Must be because I am horny. When you’ve had so much sex for a set
amount of time, it’s pretty cruel to stop cold-turkey. It doesn’t
help that I know Greg would fuck me in a heartbeat if I asked him.
I giggle at the thought that I don’t have to ask him, just call
him, look at him, lick my lips, say his name, whatever. He’s more
than willing.

Is it really so bad to have a fuck-buddy? I
want to ask Tara what she thinks, but I know she won’t approve. If
I called Greg, we would have to keep it a secret. Besides, it’s not
worth the hassle and my vibrator is easier.

“You seem to be doing okay Mallory.”

“I am. You were right - each day gets easier.
I just don’t think about it. Or try not to at least.” I shrug. It
may not be the healthiest of ways to deal with a problem, but it’s
better than drinking all day. “This is fun. Thank you.”

Tara looks at me, confused. “For what?”

“For being such a great friend. I know we had
some differences in opinion about Dean, but I appreciate you not
saying ‘I told you so.’ Also, thank you for tonight. I know you
want to be with Adam, but this means a lot to me.”

“Oh, I love you. You’re my best friend and
I’m so sorry you’re going through this.”

“Me too, but it will pass.”

We clink our wine glasses together and I take
a sip of my second glass of wine. “I’ll be right back, I need to go
to the bathroom.”

It’s been a while, but I’ve been to this
restaurant before, usually not this inebriated and am a little
turned around. I finally make my way to the front and find the
ladies restroom. I silently pray that I’ll be able to find my way
back without embarrassing myself too bad and wandering in circles.
I head back to my seat in what I think is the most straightforward
way, and notice a blond up on the right. My first thought is that
she looks like Amanda, but then I tell myself how can that be when
I can only see the side of her head. And what are the odds?

As I get closer and see the woman give a
child in a high chair a bite of food. It’s like, nine o’clock and
someone brings their child to eat at a restaurant? I walk past the
table and glance at the man sitting in the booth opposite the
woman. There’s something familiar about him but I look away, not
registering why. I can feel his eyes following me and I turn the
corner and stop, glancing back. Dean is staring at me, his mouth
agape. I look to the woman opposite him and it is indeed Amanda. My
eyes dart to the child – that must be Erica. I look again to Dean
momentarily before I turn the corner and walk down the aisle to my
seat.

I sit down and take a big swig of wine, my
eyes wide and my mind going a hundred miles a minute. I know I’ve
had a lot to drink, but I think what I saw was not in my
imagination. What are the chances that they would be here…
tonight?

“Mallory, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve
seen a ghost.”

I look up to Tara. “I have.” Unwillingly my
body betrays me and I start sobbing, trying to control it as best I
can. Patrons near us start staring and I leave my seat, avoiding
the Dean mess, and practically run to the exit. I get outside and
take deep breaths and try to calm myself as I feel the adrenaline
course through me. I start retching and run to a nearby garbage
can, throwing up what little dinner I ate and my wine.

When the dry heaving starts I feel a hand
rubbing my back, pulling my hair from my face and the vomit that is
covering it. I vaguely hear Tara telling me that it’s okay – always
the nurse. I dry heave a couple more times. Tara grabs a napkin
from her purse and cleans me up, but I have vomit down my shirt.
I’m shaking as she sits me down on the steps.

“Hold on Mallory. Let me get us a ride
home.”

I take deep breaths and close my eyes, trying
not to think about Dean – or vomit. The smell is sickening and I do
my best to take myself to a happy place so I won’t throw up
again.