Page 121 of Lovebug
“Sure, yeah. Sorry about that. I’ll talk less next time.”
“Mabel,” he says, his tone firm. “You talk as much as you want. I’m here for all of it. All ofyou. I just kind of got the impression that you were trying to... I don’t know... resist the moment?”
Ding, ding, ding! He’s absolutely right. And that’s super annoying. I’m quickly learning that this guy’s perceptivity is equal parts awesome and infuriating.
I look at him, and he seems to be patiently waiting for an answer, so I decide to give it a try. “I think I felt like maybe I was enjoying it too much.”
“How could you be enjoying yourself too much?”he scoffs.
I just shrug at that.
“Is pleasure scary to you?” he asks.
“What? No!” I laugh a little too loudly. “Pleasure is… awesome.” I lift my arms high and point both my index fingers down at my own head. “Modern woman over here. I’m all about da pleasure.”
“You sure?” He chuckles. “Because ‘da pleasure’ was happening, and then you all but pulled away to have a platonic fireside chat with me.”
I sigh. “I guess… I’m not really used to… You were just lavishing so much attention on me and…”
“And that’s exactly as it should be,” Wally fills in the tail end of my thought, though differently than I would have ended it. “Mabel, you know that, right? You’re a strong, incredible woman. You deserve the world.” His demeanor shifts, and he says, “I swear to God, if I ever see that Ernie guy again—”
“Bert,” I correct.
“Whatever. If I ever see that guy again, I guarantee you he’s gonna hear some words from me.”
Just then, my phone blares its “Walking on Sunshine” ringtone. Gah, I really have to change that.
Ordinarily, I would ignore it, but I’m suddenly feeling bold. After all, I had relations with an incredible man tonight—outdoors, I might add! I was literally wined and dined. And Wally is right. I deserved it. I amMabel Frickin McGonigle. I am strong, and I am incredible. I am a twenty-four-year-old licensed entomologist who sailed through multiple degrees with ease. I’m great with children. I’m an excellent friend. Yes, I still live with my overbearing parents, and I don’t stand up for myself nearly as often as I should, but all that can be fixed. I can do whatever I set my mind to. I can certainly clear up a little situation involving an overdue student loan payment. Here I go.
“Are you okay?” Wally asks hesitantly. “Your face looks funny.”
“Yourface looks funny!” I lash out before I can stop myself. “Gosh, I’m sorry. No, it doesn’t. Your face looks gorgeous. As usual. What I meant to say was ‘Shh. I’m fine. I’m always fine. Just gearing up for this call.’” With that, I lift my chin like Val Kilmer inTop Gun, say, “Watch and learn, Wallace,” pick up the call, and immediately let my verbal freak-flag fly.
“Hello.Hi. Good evening. Let’s cut right to the chase, Sir or Madame or whatever your name may be. I surrender! You caught me. Caught me red-handed! But I refuse to be chased like a dog and cower in the corner each time you call. I will get you your money when I’m good and ready—”
“Mabel,” Wally whispers, “are you talking to a drug dealer?”
I silently wave him off and continue my tirade, a whole lot nicer this time, as it’s not the poor person on the phone’s fault they have such an unfortunate job. “Listen, I’m good for it. Iam a wildly capable woman who is just starting to realize the extent of her powers, and I will absolutely produce the Benjamins for you ASAP. In the meantime, if you could stop calling me over and over again and giving me heart palpitations each time you do, that would be most desirable and appreciated. Bye-bye now.”
“Mabel?” A small voice comes through the phone right before I press the End Call button. I recognize it yet can’t place it right away.
“Who is this?” I ask as I pull the phone back up to my ear.
“It’s, um… It’s Chloe. Hi, Mabel! Sorry, am I interrupting something?”
“No! Well, actually yes, you are, big time.” My gaze shoots to a practically naked Wally. “But that’s okay. What’s going on? What can I do for you?Chloe, is it you that’s been calling me this whole time? What is this number?” I rattle off a whole list of questions at her, probably because I’m naked. Apparently, I’m a bit high energy when I’m naked.
“It’s my house phone,” she says, “and yeah, I’ve called a few times. I’m sorry. But you said we could call you if we ever needed you, right?” Her voice sounds like it’s on the verge of breaking.
“Of course, yeah,” I say in what I hope is a soothing manner, then preemptively reach for my clothes. Something tells me I’m leaving this tent sooner than later.
“Could you come over?” she asks.
“To your house? Why? Are you okay?”
“Sort of? I don’t know.” She stumbles over her words. “I just… I don’t think I can talk about this over the phone. Please?” She’s practically begging now.
“Of course. Yes, yes, yes. Text me your address, and I’ll be right there.”
