The Revenge Artist - Philip Siegel Page 0,25
little black dress that I loved on her but she thought was too “leave the money on the nightstand.”
She’s already tried on seven different outfits, running the gamut from successful businesswoman to sexy librarian. Truth be told, I love seeing Diane so frazzled. I’m keeping all of my fingers and toes crossed for this date. Whatever happens, she’s getting back out there, telling the world, “Yeah, I was once left at the altar, so freaking what?”
She tries on a button-down shirt that bunches in all the wrong places, takes one half-glance in the mirror, and struts right back into her closet. “Forget about the stupid bear, B,” she calls from the depths of her walk-in.
“That’s easy for you to say. It wasn’t waiting for you on your car.” I readjust myself on her bed. I lie on my stomach with my legs bent up like I used to do watching her prepare for dates in high school.
“So somebody figured out you shop at a drugstore. Call the police.”
“Isn’t it strange that this person got into my locker? Some may say secret admirer. I say deranged psychopath.”
Diane sashays out in a one-shoulder white dress that flounces around her knees with matching white pumps. “First of all, you haven’t been sent any harmful messages, so this person is probably just into you for some crazy reason. Second of all, you’re happy with Fred. So, who cares what this person is doing? He, or maybe she, will get the hint soon enough. Third of all, stop being pissed off that he, or maybe she, pulled a fast one on you. News flash, Becca Williamson, you aren’t always the smartest person in the room. And fourth of all, and most important—” here’s where she checks herself out in the mirror “—does this dress say ‘I’m going to the Hamptons,’ ‘I’m going to heaven,’ or ‘I’m going to a toga party’?”
“You’re right.” I nod begrudgingly.
“I know I am. That’s why I said it.”
Why can’t this secret admirer just blare a boom box outside my window, so that I’d know who he, or maybe she, is? Getting someone to like you isn’t about playing games unless there’s an ending in sight.
“And to answer your question, can you tell your fraternity brothers that we’re out of beer? Thanks.”
And back into the closet Diane marches.
I readjust myself on her bed, using discarded options as a pillow to lean on. She’s right. I do have Fred. I don’t need to care about this secret admirer. “Diane, I have a question?”
“Another one? Is this about you or about me?”
“Me.”
“I’m half-listening.”
“Do you think my relationship with Fred is ruining my one with Val?” The question seems a little dumb once I say it, but it concerns me. How can one relationship hurt another when both have a positive effect on me? I would think they’d join forces to give me superpowers or something.
“Do you think it is?”
“Please, don’t go all child psychiatrist on me.”
“Dammit!” I hear shoe boxes tumble to the floor.
“You okay in there?” I ask.
“Dandy.” She comes out in a strapless dress that stops just below her lady business. “Thoughts?”
I base my responses on how she thinks she looks. Any disagreement could lead to a barrage of questions about her body that I don’t have the patience to answer. “You look hot.”
“Too hot?” she asks, already knowing the answer.
“For a first date? Probably.”
“Right. I don’t want him thinking he’s getting the milk for free. But you and Val…” She retreats deep into her closet. I think about my poor clothes pressed together in what some shady architect had the nerve to pass off as a closet. “It’s not your problem,” she calls out from the beyond.
“What do you mean?”
“I used to be Val, remember? I was pissed at my friends for being in secure relationships, but that was on me. They were doing nothing wrong.
“You and Fred aren’t toxic dumping PDA or forgetting that your friends exist. You’ve made it through the wilderness, so to speak, and have blossomed into a nice, normal couple. If Val has an issue with it, then that’s her problem.”
If only I could let it be. But it’s my problem, too. First, Val’s busy with her study group and mysterious texter; now, I’m not telling her about the I Love You. I feel us drifting apart, and the only solution is to give up Fred or Val. I wish life came with a C) None of the above.
“I don’t want to lose our friendship,