Page 8 of Come Back to Bed
“So far so good.”
I want to talk to her about her painting, but it doesn’t feel like this is the right moment, after I’ve basically just undressed her.
“Great. Well…”
“Hey, uh…”
“Yeah?” She shifts her body around so that she’s half-facing me, checking to make sure she isn’t showing any side-boob, then decides to face me full-on.
“I was just going to ask if there’s a good place that delivers around here.”
“Well yeah, there are tons of good places! Actually, your aunt has a great list up in the kitchen by her phone, we pretty much order from the same restaurants. She has a landline. You don’t have to answer it, it goes straight to voicemail. Oh, and I forgot to tell you the thermostat is set pretty low, so you should turn it up at night. It makes a little noise when it starts up, that’s normal.”
“Right. I am familiar with heating system noises. But thanks.”
“Okay then.” She furrows her brow at me, and I’m not sure why it feels so necessary to be such a dick to her, it just does. “Good night, Daisy!” she calls out, looking around for her.
Daisy barks a happy “yarf” greeting from inside the guest room. She rarely barks, so it’s weird that she’d respond to a new person like that.
“You know where to find me if you want to hang out with a nice human!” the new person yells out again.
“I’m nice to my dog,” I growl.
“Lucky her,” she snaps, as she spins back towards the door.
“Good night, Miss Farmer.”
“Good night, your esquireship.”
And then she’s gone.
I get Daisy’s feeding station all set up in the kitchen and then check out Dolly’s impressively detailed food delivery list. I use an app, of course, so I don’t have to actually speak to a human being on the phone, but I’m too hungry to do all the research necessary to make an informed decision. According to the list, the fastest delivery after 7:30 pm is from a bar & grill, so I find them on my app and order a burger and fries and guacamole and chips, because it has been that kind of week.
It’s been years since I’ve hung out or eaten on the Upper West Side. The last time my parents came to visit, we all met up with Dolly, who insisted on eating at a bistro just south of Columbia university. It was actually really good, but I would never make the trip out there if I didn’t have to. And I guess Vanessa and I went to a fundraiser at the Museum of Natural History a couple of years ago…
Vanessa.
Fuck.
My phone buzzes with a message and what do you know? It’s from Vanessa. Three little words.How are you?
Good question.
I’m kind of numb.
I’m in a weird place, emotionally, but I’d never admit that to another human being.
I’m not clear if this is really a break-up or just a break, and I’m afraid to even talk to attractive women who aren’t you yet, because I don’t need any of that Ross and Rachel “We were on a break!” drama.
I miss you, but I’m afraid I might just be missing some glorified fantasy of you.
I miss us, but I can’t remember the last time it felt like we were the Us that I loved.
I don’t want to hate you, but I’m not thrilled by the way you’ve handled this situation so far.
I’m wondering how it’s possible that you haven’t even asked about Daisy, even though you’ve always been kind of jealous of her and I used to think it was cute but now I’m afraid it’s because you might actually be a bit of a bitch.
If you really did break up with me because of another guy I wish you’d just fucking tell me. It would kill me, but at least I’d know.
But what I type is:Fine. You?
Hit send.
Maybe if I’d already changed out of my suit I would have been able to respond with a few more words, in the way that I know she’d appreciate, but fuck it. After four days of radio silence, a lot of guys wouldn’t respond at all. The animated dots tell me that she’s typing a fairly long response. I stare at the phone and wonder if, given her response, Daisy and I should go back to SoHo tonight. I guess I’ll wait until the food’s been delivered. Gotta take care of me first, right Oprah?
Then the animated dots disappear. No response comes. I look down at Daisy, who is sitting by her water bowl staring up at me, like: “Oh, buddy. Just let her go already. I’m the only girl you need. You’ll see.”
And not a minute later, I find out from Facebook that my relationship status has changed.
Apparently, I’m officially single again.
