Chapter 1 #2
She and her husband Joel are opposites, but they compliment each other well. All four of my siblings are married to their perfect match, and only one of those siblings is older than me. It’s a bit irritating at times.
“He is not my person,” I tell Roe. “Trust me. Not only did he talk over me, he burped. A lot. The stinky kind. I can’t ever imagine kissing those lips.”
She laughs. “Kissing is the life blood of any strong relationship. Well, don’t give up. There is someone out there for you.”
“I’m glad you’re sure, because I’m not.” Unless it’s Caleb. I would much rather go on dates with him than any other man I’ve met this year.
I purposely have not mentioned Caleb to Roe, because I know exactly how she’ll respond: with too much enthusiasm and encouragement. When Caleb asks me out, she’ll be the first I tell. Until then, only my coworker Clementine, my sister Naomi, and my roommate Mallory know about my infatuation.
“Who else have you been chatting with?” Roe asks. “Any possibilities?”
We swipe through the apps for ten minutes until Little Joel gets bored.
“I better go,” Roe says as she lifts him into her arms. “He needs lunch and a nap.”
At the door, she leans Little Joel closer. “Can you give Auntie Stella a kiss?”
Little Joel gives the best, slobberiest kisses imaginable, but I make sure to not wipe my cheek until after he’s left.
I send another text to Mallory. We’ve hardly seen each other this summer, so texting is how we update each other on our lives.
STELLA: You will not believe the guy Roe and I found on the dating app! So many pictures with dead fish. Are you going out tonight or will you be home?
Silence.
I open the budget spreadsheet and get to finagling numbers on next year’s expenses. It’s miserable, and I throw a pen in frustration. It hits the wall and leaves a small line of ink behind. I’ve now left my mark.
I wrap my long hair into a bun to get it off my neck, grab another pen from my desk, and skewer it.
It’s not just work that’s left me feeling unfulfilled. It’s everything. I turn thirty-five in a few weeks, and this is not the life I want to be living. I expected to have a husband, a home, and children. Stability and love.
Instead, I have a best friend who doesn’t respond to my texts anymore, a temporary job I loathe, and four dating apps on my phone that are not helping me meet a man who I want to grow old with, let alone kiss.
I think of the male lead in Hockey My Heart, Mickey, aka my current book boyfriend. He could choose anyone to love; the whole city adores him. But he picks the quiet, dependable, invisible nanny because he sees her. Why can’t a handsome, stable, non-smelly man see me?
Clementine knocks on my door and saves me from my spreadsheets and spiraling thoughts. For the next fifteen minutes, we analyze every word Caleb and I exchanged.
“He’s going to ask you out soon,” she says. “He was obviously flirting with you today.”
Clementine’s been married for twenty-two years and prefers murder mysteries over romance books. I’m not sure I can take her perspective seriously.
“I wish he would,” I say. “But he's had months to ask. Why hasn’t he?”
It’s a puzzle to us both, and we end this conversation like we do all the others: confused.
When it’s finally time for me to head home, it’s a relief to leave the building and defrost my frozen limbs. It’s like an oven outside in August, and for about five minutes it feels glorious. Then I remove my cardigan, grateful for my sleeveless blouse, and turn my car’s AC up a notch.
The apartment I live in with Mallory is an older complex across the street from a strip mall and a dozen restaurants. There are only ten apartments, five on top, five on bottom. The owner, Jag, has become a good friend of ours and lives on the first floor.
He sees me passing his window from the parking lot and sticks his head out of his door, catching me with my foot on the bottom step.
“Stella, I still need the contract to extend your lease.”
“Oh.” I’m surprised. “Sorry. Mallory said she would bring them down days ago.”
“I need it this weekend.”
“Sure. I’ll talk to her tonight.”
“Make sure you do.”
When I get inside my apartment, the only light comes from the TV.
All the sun screens and blinds are closed to keep our apartment as cool as possible, but it also means it’s dim and takes a minute for my eyes to adjust. I see the silhouette of Mallory’s head over the top of the couch.
My smile is instantaneous. I haven’t seen her much this summer.
She seems to always be out when I get home from work.
She pauses the movie.
“Hey, Stella.”
“Hey,” I say. “What did you get up to today?”
As a math teacher at a private high school, she has the summer off. The school year starts a few weeks later than the public one, and she’s free for another week before her teacher meetings start.
For years, every summer Mallory and I took a two week trip abroad. It didn’t happen this year because Mallory wanted to stay home for some unknown-to-me reason. We were supposed to visit Greece until she cancelled. The Parthenon. The caves in Meteora. Santorini and Athens. I was devastated.
It wasn’t just our trip abroad. Past summers we filled our weekends with camping and hiking. I only went on one camping trip this year, and it was with a friend from work. It wasn’t the same.
“Today was lazy and divine.” Mallory stretches her arms above her head. “Krystal and I spent the afternoon watching rom coms.”
Only then do I notice Krystal, slumped on the couch so only the top few inches of her head show. My heart sinks.
Krystal started working at the same school as Mallory last September, and they’ve become good friends.
Though Krystal is over whenever Mallory is home, we have not become friends.
She’s the type of person who says mean things under the guise of joking, and I’m usually the butt of her jokes.
I find her abrasive, mean, and loud. What I dislike most about her is how over the past year since she and Mallory have become friends, Mallory has taken on some of those same traits.
The closer the two of them become, the further apart Mallory and I grow.
“Hi, Krystal,” I say in my friendliest voice. I at least try to be kind. She does not extend me the same courtesy.
I flip on the kitchen light and my heart sinks further from the mess.
Plates with omelet residue. Bowls with ramen noodles left on the bottom.
Pots and pan left on the stove. They made chocolate chip cookies and didn’t clean a single dish.
They really have been watching movies all day and had no time to do anything else. Not even respond to my texts.
“We just started The Notebook,” Mallory says. “Want to watch it with us?”
“I love this movie.” Krystal gives a happy sigh. “It’s so romantic, right?”
No, it isn’t. I hate the movie with a passion.
It’s about two immature, manipulative teens who date then break up, only to find each other years later.
She cheats on her fiancé, a man who is supportive, steady, and mature, to be with the manipulative man she fell in love with in her youth.
All because her fiancé is “boring.” As someone who has been called boring many times in my life (most recently and repeatedly by Krystal), I find it offensive that my worth is determined by how entertaining I am to others.
I want to escape into my room with my book boyfriend Mickey and save myself from the torture. It’s been a long, exhausting week. But, I also want to spend time with Mallory. Unfortunately, that means hanging out with Krystal, but that isn’t surprising. They’re rarely apart these days.
“Sure,” I say. “Let me grab some dinner.”
“We ordered pizza!” Mallory says, but instantly sobers. “Oh, but we got the meat lover’s. Sorry. I didn’t think to order a vegetarian.”
Krystal gives me what is supposed to be a sympathetic look, but comes across as patronizing. “Sad. You miss out on so much. I couldn’t do it. I love bacon. Burgers. Steak. What a sad life you live; not being able to enjoy food.”
I don’t understand why some people feel the need to mock me over my choice to not eat animals and treat me as if I’m missing out.
It happens more often than I expect, and each time it frustrates me.
I have never shamed anyone because of their food choices, so why is it okay for them to do that to me?
After a calming breath, I say, “I love my food. It’s a personal choice. No one, least of all me, expects you to do the same. I’ll make myself a sandwich."
The pizza arrives in a few minutes, and once we’re all in front of the TV, me on the love seat and the other two on the couch, Mallory starts the movie again.
For someone who loves this movie, Krystal whispers to Mallory through most of it. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I don’t miss how often they both glance in my direction. It makes me think they’re talking about me.
I don’t deserve this kind of treatment, but don’t know what to do about it.
Mallory and I have grown a little distant this year, partly because of how emotionally and socially exhausting I find my temporary library manager position; I rarely feel up to going out on weekends anymore.
But also because Mallory is gone a lot, and when she is home, Krystal’s with her. I’ve become the odd man out.
I want to leave, but I stick it out, braiding and re-braiding my hair. It’s a calming ritual that distracts me from the characters on the screen and the whispering happening on the couch. When the credits finally roll, Mallory mutes the television.
“Stella,” she says slowly, then cuts a glance to Krystal. She bites her bottom lip and her eyes scrunch up as she hesitates to speak.
“What?” My stomach tightens. I shouldn’t read so much into how the two of them are acting tonight, but whenever Krystal is involved, I proactively stress.
“There’s something I need to talk to you about.” Except she doesn’t continue.