Page 7 of Perfect Mess

“How do you know his name is Simon?” Ralph made the mistake of asking.

“Because that’s what I named him.”

“You can’t name a cow,” said Ralph. As a divorce lawyer, arguing with everyone about everything was ingrained in Ralph’s DNA.

“I just did.”

“He’s not your cow.”

“He’s not yours either.”

I said to Janet, “You know Simon is going to be somebody’s hamburger someday, right?” In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best thing to say. You know that scene in The Exorcist where the little girl spins her head around and spews green vomit? That’s how Janet looked.

Then she burst into tears.

Ralph and I exchanged a look. He made a “what the hell was that” gesture. I shook my head and shrugged.

I had to do something. People were staring. “Janet?” Gingerly, carefully, I executed a conciliatory pat on the back. “I’m sorry I said that thing about the cow. I mean … Simon.”

“I love him,” Janet wailed, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“You love Simon?”

“No Mary, I love Stan. I don’t give a shit about the stupid fucking cow. I love Stan. He was my one true love.”

It was the same thing every time. Janet always fell head over heels for the wrong guy. “Stan was a jerk,” I countered.

There was a faraway look in Janet’s eyes. “He was great in bed.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “With other people.”

The tears started back again. “Now I’m going to be miserable and alone forever.”

“You won’t be miserable and alone forever. Miserable maybe. But you won’t be alone. You’ll never be alone.” I put an arm around Janet’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Because you’ve got me.”

“Best friends forever?”

“Forever,” I agreed. Eventually, the faucet of tears slowed to a trickle.

While Janet and I held each other in a warm embrace, and by warm, I mean hot and stifling, I took a moment to consider my options. Maybe I was pushing her too hard. Maybe my hook-up plan was wrong and insensitive. Maybe I should just give her time to heal at her own pace.

“I’m sorry about all this, Janet. I just wanted to help.” All Janet’s crying had made the top of my shirt damp. And I was pretty sure she got snot on my sleeve. “Tell you what,” I said. “Let’s all go back to my place. I’ll make a whole sheet pan of nachos. With jalapeños. And extra sour cream.”

“Sour cream gives me gas,” Ralph interrupted.

“Nachos with jalapeños, and absolutely no trace of sour cream.”

“Maybe watch a romantic comedy?” Janet said, releasing me from her hug.

I flinched. Romantic comedy movies. Ugh. “Sure. Anything for my best friend.”

“Thank you, Mary. Thank you, Ralph.” Janet paused a moment. Then she said, “But I don’t want to go home. Not yet.” She looked at her watch. “We came all this way, and it’s still early.” She knocked back the rest of her cider. “If a single man with no criminal convictions walks by, no matter who it is, I’ll at least give him a chance.”

“You will?”

She took the red solo cup out of Ralph’s hand. “Maybe you’re right, Mary. Maybe with the right distraction, I’ll forget all about Stan. And how he cheated on me, maxed out my credit card, and never filled my car up with gas. And ruined my favorite white blouse when he threw it in the washer with his stupid, ugly red Manchester United socks.”

She threw back the rest of Ralph’s drink, then drank mine. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky this time. I’ll just put my fate in the hands of the universe. Let the universe decide.”

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