Page 59 of Melt With You

‘Don’t sleep in your van tonight. Stay at Bette’s. She said you could.’

‘Why?’

‘Just do it. Don’t put the instruments in the van until tomorrow. I have this feeling …’

He cocked his head at her, and his eyes narrowed, but before he could question what she was saying, she continued.

‘It’s all going to be okay,’ she said. ‘Go to your gig. Play your heart out. Move on. You won’t even remember me for a minute.’

‘That’s not true,’ he said, staring at her, and now she saw the understanding she’d thought she’d seen before. The realization of who she truly was. He pulled her into his arms one last time, and when he hugged her she thought she heard him say, ‘Goodbye, Dori,’ but she pulled away quick and headed out before she could be sure.

Bette was next. And Bette wasn’t going to be easy either. Was Dori the only person on earth to have always loathed that scene in The Wizard of Oz? The goodbye scene right before Dorothy leaves Oz for good. That heartrending: ‘And, Scarecrow, I think I’ll miss you most of all.’ Just the thought of saying goodbye to Bette made Dori’s chest tighten. She had learnt so much from her former boss in those few short weeks. Bette grabbed life in a way that Dori never had. She seemed to want to swallow everything whole, devour the world around her. Dori was going to do that now, she swore to herself. She wasn’t going to be a wallflower any longer.

She met Bette at the arcade across from The Majestic, thinking that in a location like this, it was less likely that she’d break down. Still, she wanted to tell Bette how much the woman meant to her. But Bette had something of her own to talk about.

‘Don’t you ever want to try again?’ Bette asked.

‘You mean restart the game?’ Dori asked, intentionally misunderstanding.

They were playing Centipede, and Dori was kicking ass. If Rowan managed to make this thing work, if they really did manage to get home again, she was going to buy one of these old arcade games for her living room.

‘Do something over. Have a second shot.’

Dori shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, but wondering if Bette knew somehow. ‘Sure. Doesn’t everyone?’

Bette hung her head. ‘Look, Emma, I’ve just royally fucked it all up. If I could, I’d go back and do it over. I really would. I thought Gael was interested in playing the field. That’s what we always said. That’s how we always acted. That’s why I … I …’

Dori stopped playing and looked at her. She sensed what Bette was going to say, and she tried to soften the blow for her. ‘Will’s married, isn’t he? Isn’t that why he doesn’t come around that much?’

Bette shook her head. ‘Will’s not married, Emma. He’s not anything. He’s fictitious.’

Dori found herself trying not to look as shocked as she felt. She hadn’t known that. But the fact explained a lot. Explained why Will never appeared. Ever. Why Bette never seemed to know whether she could count on him accompanying her to a show or a concert. But even more of a surprise to Dori was the way Bette was looking at her. She’d always pegged Bette as a party girl, someone with no plans or desires to settle down. Now, Bette looked demolished, so sad, and she seemed to expect Dori to be able to offer her advice. Dori wished she could. What would Violet say in a similar situation? Vi always seemed to know exactly the right thing to say.

‘He’s told me to make a choice between him and Will. And he wants to talk to Will for himself to make sure it’s over.’

‘Tell him what you told me.’

‘You don’t know men. He’s going to think I’m crazy.’

‘Seriously. Just tell him. You never know, Bette. He might understand. He might have something he wants to tell you, too.’

Bette looked at her the same way Van had. This was Dori’s chance. She could remain quiet forever, or she could do her best to make a difference. Gripping onto Bette’s hand, she stared into her boss’ eyes and told her the plan – the idea that had been formulating in her mind for weeks. If it didn’t work, then nothing would be lost, right? Nothing could be worse than what had already happened. Or than what would happen if she didn’t intervene.

Once she’d said goodbye to everyone, she told Rowan she was ready.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘Go get your phone.’

Her phone.

She hadn’t thought about the thing in nearly a month, not after discovering that the device didn’t work in the 80s. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to envision where she might have put the cherry-red X-phone, but came up with a blank. She reached into her purse, and rustled around, knowing somehow that the gesture was useless. Rowan watched her dump her bag onto the kitchen counter.

‘Man, you have a lot of stuff in there.’

Dori shrugged, consumed by the search.

The detritus in her purse wasn’t anything unusual to her – a Stila compact, NARS blush, mascara, condoms, X-Pod.

‘Why do you have so many lipsticks?’ Rowan asked, bemused. He ran his hands over the fifteen tubes, all exactly the same shade.

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