Page 42 of Lovebug
“To address your initial point, though, Cyndi, I’m with you! It’s a puzzling part of nature, to be sure,” I say. “I mean, if I knew the choice was between no sex or to have sex followed by my beheading, obviously I’d choose the no sex.”
Silence.
I look around the table, and all three of them are staring at me with blank looks on their faces.
“Riiiight?” I ask slowly.
Then like they’ve been choreographed, all three of their heads shake slowly side to side.
“No, Mabel. You choose the beheading,” Calliope says with complete seriousness.
“Oh, come on, that’s ridiculous!” I laugh.
I fully expect Lou or Cyndi to tell Calliope she’s being a nut as well, but they don’t. They just sit there, staring at me with wide eyes as thoughI’mthe one off track here.
“Cyndi, even you?” Surely, my best childhood friend will back me up on this one.
“Mabes,” Cyndi says, ”if it were a choice between riding Stuart like the stallion he is just one more time or never getting to experience that thigh-quaking thrill ride again? I would…” She pauses and reconsiders a moment. “Well, okay, I’m not sure I would acceptdeathby beheading, but I would definitely be up for a permanent maiming of some sort as a tradesies for that treat.”
“But we’re just talking aboutsexhere! What’s so great about it?”
A collective gasp echoes around the table.
“No! I mean, it’s great,” I backtrack. “Obviously, it’s… awesome! Bert’s awesome. I just—”
They all seem to be waiting for me to explain myself.
I reeeeeally dislike explaining myself.
“Rest assured, friends. Because my relationship is... off the hook.” I try out a phrase that really doesn’t suit me. “Wait. Is it off the hook or off the chain?”
“Neither,” Calliope challenges. “Because I’m 99.9 percent certain you’re lying.”
“This is Mabel McGonigle we’re talking about here,” Cyndi says. “Mabel McGonigle doesn’t lie.”
“Fair. She doesn’t lieoutright, but she does make the best of things to the point that you can no longer tell how she actually feels about the thing.”
It’s strange when people discuss you in the third person as if you’re not sitting right there in front of them.
“Alright,” I say, feeling a little bit bold and a whole lotta bit tipsy. “That’s it. I’m ready to share.”
“You are?” Cyndi is doubtful.
“Yes! You said before that I don’t share with you. That I hide myself. Well, that’s awful. I don’t want to be that way! You are my friends, and I want to share myself with you. From now on, I’m an open book.”
“Great! Bring it, baby!” Calliope rubs her palms together, and they all lean in a bit closer.
“Okay.” I start. “Great. So. Let’s talk about Bert. He’s, uh… he’s… hardworking, and he’s, uh… you know, he’s a dreamer is what he is. He’s always cooking up a new scheme for making money and—”
“A scheme?” Louise asks.
“No. My bad. No, ‘scheme’ was the wrong word. A plan. He’s alwaysplanningfor our future.”
“Bert got Mabel involved in a pyramid scheme,” Cyndi whispers to Louise.
“Nope! Nope, that is incorrect, Cynthia.”
“Don’t call me Cynthia,” she scoffs. “Who are you, my mom?”
