Page 32 of Fun Together
I turn to Rett. “Exactly. What if there are other things I can help with?”
“Nooo,” Faye says, covering her face. “You’ve helped enough.”
“Maybe Rett will tell me.”
“Well first,” Rett says, ignoring Faye’s objection. “I told her we needed to go out so she could meet someone and then go home with them and?—”
“Rett, I swear to God,” Faye interrupts her. “Don’t finish that sentence.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a lipstick, her phone, and crumpled piece of paper. “You might as well see the whole thing, I guess.”
I unfold the paper and see “Faye’s Hierarchy of Fun” written at the top with a scribble of a pyramid below it.
Faye’s Hierarchy of Fun
Hobby – find one
Social – have apartysmall get-together
Sex – have some
Career – new job
Environmental – apartment feels like home
“So the pretend kissing was supposed to lead to . . . pretend sex?” I can’t help but tease her, it’s a disease.
She covers her face again. “I’m sobering up way too fast for where this conversation is going.”
“Pretend?!” Rett screeches.
Faye gives me a shy smile, like we were both in on a big secret. “We weren’t really flirting,” she explains. “Or . . . kissing.”
The flirting was very real on my end, and the pretend kissing was almost better than the real thing, as far as I’m concerned.
Rett sighs dramatically. “Well, you two should take up acting.”
Faye gives me a quick look before doing the most obviously fake yawn I’ve ever seen. “Time to go to sleep, I think.”
“Do you guys need help getting to your apartment?”
“No, I think we’re good. Thank you again for giving us a ride.”
“No problem. I’ll see you on Monday.”
They both get out and hook their arms together as they make their way up the sidewalk.
“Nice to meet you, Loretta!” I shout out the window.
Rett gives me her middle finger in answer.
This makes Faye laugh in a way that goes straight to my bones—and other areas—saying,That right thereandHow can I make you do that again?
11
Faye
I pullinto my grandpa’s driveway and attempt to dodge a giant hole where the gravel needs to be filled in. I mentally add that to the list of things I need to do this week as I head inside. He’s lived in this brick ranch house forever, and nothing has changed at all. I don’t think the two white plastic lawn chairs sitting in the front yard have moved in twenty years.
I guess I consider this my childhood home, but I think I’ve always just thought of it as a place I lived for a short time. If thirteen years could be considered a short time.
