Page 65 of Poetry By Dead Men
I'm sorry for earlier. I'll make it up to you, I swear.
—"Excuses," a free verse poem by Harrison Rouchester
A week later, Molly’s laying on Bobby’s bed with me, having flown out to spend a few days back on Big Blue. She’s painting my nails, just like we used to do as teenagers, except this time the color isn't electric blue or neon green.
"I have a confession to make," Molly says, never taking her eyes off the soft pink polish she's coating on my thumbnail.
"Okay… I’m nervous," I say, because if Molly has been holding something in for the last two days that she’s been with me, then it’s something big.
"You know the work emergency that called Harrison away last weekend?”
“You mean the universefinallydoing something kind and merciful for me?” I ask. Of course I know, because it had been a miracle. I'd been dreading meeting up with Harrison after the show, unsure what to say or how to act like the events of the previous twelve hours hadn't happened, but Harrison never came. He'd texted me about halfwaythrough Bobby's set, saying he’d been called back to the office for some sort of work emergency.
And I’ve all but avoided thinking about our fight ever since. I’m living in denial. I’m fully aware of it, but I’m tired of trying to be someone else all the time. Especially with Harrison.
Being back on the bus allows me to just beBethagain, and I’m holding on to that feeling for as long as I can, even if it means burying my head in the sand.
"Hi, Beth." Molly finally looks up from my nails and gives me a wide grin. "I'm the universe."
"What? Molly, you didn't!" I scramble into a sitting position, careful to not get polish on the black, buttery-soft comforter.
Molly puts her hand to her ear as if it’s a phone and raises the pitch of her voice, putting a slight Boston accent into it.
"Yes, hello? This is Lucy Wilcox’s personal assistant. Yes, the movie star, who else? She needs a meeting with you tonight. Yes, I’m aware, but it’s an emergency. No, I’m afraid it can’t be discussed over the phone. She’ll need you to meet her at the Manhattan Detention Complex. Yes, I understand it will be late. Just get on the first flight out." She pretends to hang up the phone.
A bubble of laughter tries to work its way up my throat, but my anxiety pops it. “Oh my God. You’re insane! What were you thinking?”
Molly shrugs. “I wasthinkingthat you called me crying because Harrison was insulting you and being even more of a dick than usual."
"He’s not usually a dick," I argue, but my words don't sound convincing.
"If he’s not an outright dick, he’s dick-adjacent. And he’s certainly no Bobby."
"What do you mean he’s no Bobby?" I ask. "You’ve been around him for two days and now you’re team Bobby again? You know what happened between us."
"Yeah…about that." Molly has the decency to look sheepish. “Last night after we fell asleep, or actually, afteryoufell asleep, I may have gone back out for one more drink."
I throw a pillow at her. "You are such a sneak! I said you didn’t have to come to bed just because I was tired."
"I know, but I wanted to speak to Bobby alone. And I knew you wouldn’t let me." She pulls my hand back out and puts one more coat of Tickle Me Pink on my pinky, which I apparently smudged on Bobby's pillow, and screws the cap back on. "I never got to really rip into him over what he did to you." She grins. "This seemed like the perfect opportunity."
"Oh, Molly," I rub between my eyebrows to soothe away the tension, careful not to smear my nails again. "You didn’t."
"Of course I did. Actually, I’m a bit offended that you’d invite me here and think I’d spend three days with the guy and never scold him for breaking your heart," she says, lowering her eyebrows.
I swing my legs over the bed, needing to move. I have too much nervous energy to sit still. "That was years ago. We’ve moved past it."
"Well, I’ll tell you one thing," Molly grabs a different color, Stiletto Red, and hands it to me, patting the bed in front of her. "He certainly hasn’t. And I’m not so sure you have either."
I oblige her, sitting down and unscrewing the cap to start on her nails. "That's ridiculous. Absolutely absurd."
"Mhm… Did you know Bobby hasn't had a relationship last more than a month since you? He rarely even dates anymore."
I fight the temptation to paint red all over her cuticles. "Of course I don't. You think we've spent our time talking about his dating history?"
Molly ignores me. "The girls he dates are great. Nice girls, beautiful, smart, and talented. But they're notyou."
I narrow my eyes at her.
