Chapter Fifteen
Mallory is shaking when she shows up at Julie’s place on the Upper West Side. She can’t even make herself useful by helping Julie put sheets on the fold-out couch. Plus, she’s keeping her friend awake way past her weeknight bedtime, but that’s what former college roommates are for, right?
When she climbs gratefully under the blanket, Julie perches on the edge of the bed. “Maybe taking a break isn’t the worst idea in the world.”
“How can you say that? I love him. In what universe is breaking up a good idea when you’re in love?” She reaches for another tissue. At this rate, she’s going to clean Julie out of them.
“I don’t know. You still haven’t told me why you broke up.”
She doesn’t know where to begin. She doesn’t really know where the breakup itself began.
“I don’t know. I guess … because I told him I’m having second thoughts about a law career.
He was so judgmental and unsupportive and basically attacked my character and said I was giving up just because it wasn’t coming easily enough for me.
” She’s not going to mention the other stuff.
The Bette stuff. Julie would never understand.
“You know I love Alec. But he can be such a dick,” Julie says. Mallory feels bad now. She’s keeping her up late at night, and she’s not telling her the full truth.
She shakes her head. “It’s not all his fault. Last night we had an argument and I walked out. I couldn’t reach you or Allison so I called … a new friend.”
“Oh? Who?”
“A dancer from the burlesque club.”
Julie looks confused. And distressed.
“Mallory, what’s going on with you?”
She shrugs. It’s a good question.
“There’s more. We sort of … hooked up.”
Silence. And then Julie says, “Mal, I think you need to see a therapist.”
Mallory shakes her head. “No, I don’t. At least, not about that.”
“Is it possible this is all just some stress response to failing the bar? Like, it’s giving you an identity crisis. Because really, have you ever failed anything in your life?”
She knows the question is rhetorical, but it makes her think. What does failure—or success, for that matter—really look like? She feels disoriented, like a pilot who can’t tell the sea from the sky.
“Does Alec know?” Julie asks.
Mallory nods. “Yeah. He didn’t take it well.”
“How did you think Alec was going to react to that news? His girlfriend of four years suddenly cheats on him with a woman and he’s supposed to what … understand?”
“He’s the one pushing me to hook up with a woman! He’s the one who wants a three-way, who brought me to the burlesque show … who made me leave work early to sit through his interview with Bette like some sort of fluffer …”
Julie takes a breath and holds up her hands.
“Okay, all I’m saying is this whole dynamic is unhealthy. If you want your relationship with Alec to work you both have to step away from all this drama.”
Mallory’s shoulders sag. She’s suddenly exhausted.
“I really thought that once I moved to the city it would be the start of our lives together. No more school, no more long distance—nothing to stand in our way.”
“Maybe time apart is a good thing. You just got to New York. You’re still figuring out your life. How can you know how Alec should fit into it if you don’t even know what you want yet? If it’s meant to be, you guys will work it out. Trust me, a little distance always brings clarity.”
Mallory thinks about it for a minute.
“Maybe.”
“Either way, you need to get away from this strip club scene. It’s a distraction.”
“It’s not a strip club.”
Julie looks at her like: Sure, keep telling yourself that. But Julie doesn’t understand. The Blue Angel isn’t causing the problem.
It’s revealing it.
Long after Julie shuffles off to bed, Mallory is awake staring at the living room ceiling. Outside, an ambulance siren wails nearby. She rolls over and tries closing her eyes for the dozenth time, almost ready to give up on sleep.
This whole thing is her fault. And not because she hooked up with Bette.
The problem is bigger than that. All her life, she’s made decisions to please other people.
First, her parents by getting her law degree.
And then Alec by moving in with him. She hadn’t even been sure she wanted to live together right away, but it made no sense financially for them to pay rent on two separate apartments.
So what does she want? The truth is, she has no idea. So how can she be happy in a relationship if she can’t even answer that question for herself ?
Her phone vibrates with a message. Alec! She feels around beside her on the bedsheets until she locates her phone.
We’re at Luna Lounge—come out for a drink. Bring your man if you want. Xo B
It’s not the text she was expecting and not from the person she wants to hear from.
Thanks but not tonight.
Bette, not one to take no for an answer, writes back, You two didn’t kiss and make up yet?
Mallory feels herself get teary, and she knows she should just turn off her phone. But she instead keeps the conversation going with, I think we broke up tonight.
Bette responds immediately: Svoboda! Don’t sit there wallowing. Get your ass in a cab.
Mallory can’t imagine getting dressed and going out. But she also can’t imagine spending another minute alone with her thoughts.
She sits up in bed and turns on the light.
The bar on Ludlow Street is the diviest of dives. But Bette’s in the mood to play pool.
“Men are hypocrites,” Bette says, leaning over the pool table to line up her shot. “They can dish it out, but they can’t take it.”
She takes a break to throw back another shot of vodka. Mallory doesn’t understand how she can consume so much alcohol without ever getting sloppy drunk. Or how she seems to effortlessly belong no matter what room they’re in.
“Well, you were right,” Mallory says. She doesn’t know how to play, so she’s sitting on a barstool to watch. “You told me I shouldn’t tell Alec the truth. But I wanted to be honest. I couldn’t imagine having a secret between us.”
“No good deed goes unpunished,” Bette says, knocking the black ball into the triangle of other balls, sending them flying obediently into the pockets.
“That’s what my mother always said. Look, just let things settle down.
He’ll come around. In the meantime, keep busy.
” She checks her phone. “Oh, we gotta go.”
Go where? It’s late. Mallory is ready to call it a night.
“I’m going back to Julie,” she said. “I have work in the morning.”
“You can’t leave yet. Come to my fitting.”
“What fitting?”
“My costume fitting at the Blue Angel. Agnes is a genius. She’s doing something with crinoline you wouldn’t believe. She’s making me an Alice in Wonderland dress. I’m performing to that Zebra song ‘Through the Looking Glass.’”
Mallory’s intrigued. She’s a big fan of the pop star Zebra.
The song Bette mentioned, “Through the Looking Glass,” is a massive hit.
Six months ago, Zebra wasn’t on the map.
Now she’s everywhere, a six-foot-tall, racially and gender-ambiguous superstar with eggplant-colored hair and costumes that make Lady Gaga look prim.
“I’m sure it will be amazing.”
She decides to go, to see where the night takes her. Anything to avoid thinking about Alec.
She’s ready for her own adventure down the rabbit hole.