Page 127 of Perfect Mess

I repeated the words in my head over and over, commanding my brain to focus. No distractions. But I was too weak. I handed my entire stack of flyers to a confused woman pushing a stroller, then marched toward the back of the park. I didn’t even stop to sample the pretzel dips.

As I made my way around the vegan food truck, I saw Michelle and Joan set up in the same spot as before. But the space next to them was empty. I looked everywhere, spinning like a top. I saw the woman with the unicorn and rainbow paintings. The driftwood and chicken wire guy was there. So was the woman with the sea shell wind chimes. But there was no sign of Gary.

“Mary!” Joan waved me over, her arms covered with bands of woven hemp.

Michelle’s mouth was stuffed with funnel cake as I stepped under their tent. Swallowing, she said, “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for Gary.”

“Bout time you came around.” Joan turned to Michelle. “You owe me twenty bucks.” Turning back to me, Joan said, “I knew you’d come to your senses eventually.”

My voice squeaked out of my throat. “He told you what happened?” A wave of shame washed over me.

“He did,” Joan confirmed. “That was pretty dumb.”

“Really dumb,” said Michelle, nodding.

“I know.” Kissing Jack wasn’t just pretty dumb, or really dumb, it was stupendously idiotic. And then, adding insult to injury, what I said about Gary was even worse.

Michelle must have recognized the torment I was feeling because she put down her funnel cake, walked over, and gave me a big hug. “It’s okay hun. We all do dumb things sometimes. Especially to the people we love.” Michelle turned toward Joan with a meaningful look.

“What?” Joan held up her hands. “How was I supposed to know you were allergic to marshmallows?”

“Because we’ve been together for twenty-three years.”

“You never once talked about marshmallows.”

“Because I’m allergic to them.”

Joan set her fists on her hips. “What about that time we went camping at that nudist colony? The guy in the Winnebago made s’mores.”

While Michelle and Joan continued to debate the topic of Michelle’s gelatin allergy, I was rewinding my brain to the point in the conversation right after Michelle hugged me, when she said, “We all do dumb things sometimes. Especially to the people we love.”

“Wait a second,” I said, interrupting a contentious story about an unfortunate Thanksgiving jello mold incident. “Why did you say that part about doing dumb things to the people we love?”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Michelle raised an eyebrow. “She tried to poison me with a marshmallow. How dumb is that?” Then she whirled on Joan. “Unless you did it on purpose. You know that life insurance policy we had expired twelve years ago?”

“No, not the dumb part,” I interrupted once again, before the debate continued to spiral. “I’m talking about the love part. Who said anything about love?”

At that point, both Michelle and Joan rolled their eyes. If synchronized eye rolling had been an Olympic sport, they would have won gold. Joan said, “Oh Mary, please. It was obvious the day you were here.”

“Plus, he talks about you constantly,” said Michelle. “It’s always Mary did this to me, and Mary did that to me.”

“Gary talks about me?”

Joan snorted. “All the time.”

Michelle added, “He still does. Even after everything.”

Gary still talks about me?I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Did you really out him at a book signing?” Joan asked.

“That was an accident,” I answered. “He won’t return my calls.”

“That’s because Gary’s stubborn,” Michelle said.

“See? They’re perfect together.” Joan elbowed Michelle in the ribs.

---