Page 27 of Sour Brew Face

“Dave told me; did you hear me? DAVE told ME, your best friend, your sister from another mister, your ride or die bitch on the side…no, that’s not right. Point is, I had to find out from Dave what Langston did, and I don’t know if you are familiar with the male species, but they don’t find details, of any kind, important and leave a lot of holes in their ‘retelling’ of events. And I’m hurt that you didn’t call me right away, I would have brought ice cream and bitched with you on the couch while watchingGame of Thrones.”

“There’s a lot to unpack in that ramble you just spewed from your mouth.” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, then pulling the blankets tighter around my body. “I’m not sure why, but the pressing question is whyGame of Thrones?”

She tsks like I’m a child asking an annoyingly obvious question. “It has all the key ingredients for a good break up binge. Naked and rugged men. Sex. Gratuitous violence. And most importantly, sweet, sweet, revenge.”

I ponder her words for a moment and decide in that moment that she is in fact my ride or die and she’s also a genius.

“Continue.” I urge her as I plop down on the couch and resume staring at the blank television screen as I have done for the past three days after work.

“I know you are new to this whole friend thing, but really, I should have been your first call. Text. Message by carrier pigeon.” I nod, because she’s right and because she doesn’t seem to care what my response is at the moment. “It is a time-honored tradition for those of the female species to gather in comfortable clothing that should never see the light of day, eat copious amounts of junk food and mask our true feelings about the male gender by ripping apart everything they have done wrong since the beginning of time. Which is just short of everything, B-T-dubs.”

“Oh.” I had no idea such a ritual existed. Don’t I feel foolish.

She’s silent for a bit, and I get a crick in my neck watching her move from room to room in my house, stocking the freezer, pouring wine, filling bowls with popcorn and chips, stripping her beautiful and clearly designer coat to reveal an old t-shirt with more holes than Swiss cheese, cut off sweat shorts, and the most noticeable nipples I’ve ever…noticed. When I gasp at her reveal, she levels me with a withering glare.

“I’m not wearing a bra, this is about comfort, not torture devices devised by men to keep us ‘contained’.”

“Actually, there is some debate as to who the first person was to patent the bra, however, it is undisputedly a woman who initially came up with the idea.”

“This is not the time and place for facts, Mo. This is about feelings. Let yourself feel.”

“Ok. I feel that you were inaccurate in your statement regarding the brassiere.”

Amelia stares at me a moment, then plops down on the couch next to me and forcefully pulls my blanket cocoon over to cover her. I allow myself a small smile when she starts gagging and hurtles off the couch and across the room.

“What the hell, Mo? Did something die in there trying to rescue you? Am I your next victim?”

“I’m gassy. When I’m upset, I get the tummy troubles. This a shame free cocoon. If you can’t handle a little stink, then you know where the door is.”

“This is going to be harder than I thought.” She muses to herself, then sits down in my recliner, a safe distance away from my stench. “Ok, first I’d like to get a baseline for how you are feeling.”

“Gassy. We’ve already been through this.” I dodge the obvious question on her mind.

“My singed nose hairs will attest to that.” She deadpans, staring at me expectantly.

Dropping my head back against the couch, I sink further into the warmth of my blankets and decide to just get it out there.

“Betrayed. Hurt. Angry. Sad. Understanding. Horny. Resigned.”

“I hate to tell you, but until you plug up that poo canoe, horny is likely to be a permanent state.”

“Judgement. Free. Zone.” She waves me off.

“Tell me why the other feelings, walk me through your thought process.”

“He betrayed me using something so personal against me. I’m hurt because he didn’t even give me a chance to explain. Angry because he’s once again been duped by his mother. Sad because I can’t help him if he won’t let me in. Understanding because she is all he’s known, and I can’t compete with that. And resigned…because…I’m not enough for anyone to stay…as its always been. And I knew that when I opened my heart, and legs, for him, but I hoped that this time would be different.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She visibly braces herself for the inevitable smell and jumps on the couch with me, pulling me close to her and rocking me back and forth. “Those people who came and went in your life, were not enough for YOU. Not the other way around. They weren’t worthy of everything you are, but I know for a fact that the people you surround yourself with now, the guys and me, we recognize who you are, and we are better, infinitely better, for having you in our life.”

I let my tears fall, needing to get it out so it doesn’t fester. Voicing my feelings eases my tummy, which I’m sure Amelia will be happy about, but my heart is still broken.

“And it was different, it IS different with Langston.”

“No, he left, it’s the same shit different day.”

“You are wrong, but you aren’t ready to hear why yet. He loves you, Mo, but he’s conflicted and emotionally stunted and ill-prepared for how to deal with the truth. Give him time, he’ll see he was wrong, and he’ll fight like hell to make it right.”

“But how can he? How can I just accept his apology, if there even is one, and go back to how things were? He…God, Amelia, he used my abandonment as a weapon and hit bulls-eye.”

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