The Art of Being Emily - Katie MacAlister Page 0,172
him so much!”
“Yeah, I know,” I said. OHMIGOD! I’d forgotten about Devon! For the whole day, I hadn’t once thought of him! Well, except about wondering if he’d like his ears pierced. Still, that’s not really thinking about him. It’s not missing him.
Holly gave me a sympathetic look. “Poor Emily. I know you must miss Devon something terrible, too.”
“Yeah,” I said again, starting to feel really bad because the truth was, I hadn’t missed Devon at all. I turned away from her and went to look at a barge that was going down the Seine.
“Em? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Devon will be here in a week.”
I did a shoulder shrug thing that I’d seen Pascal do (the French are really good shruggers). I’m a bad girlfriend. BAD!
“It’s harder for you because I know I’m not going to see Ruaraidh except on breaks, but you’re used to being with Devon whenever you want. Poor, poor Emily.”
“Um,” I said, feeling horrible and rotten inside. I bet you Devon thought of me today, at least once. I bet he missed me.
Sniffle.
“Em? You look funny. What’s wrong? Are you feeling bad about Devon?”
I couldn’t stand it any longer. “It’s not like I don’t want to not miss him,” I said, whirling around to face her. “It’s not like that at all. It’s just that I haven’t had the time to miss him today. First I had Madame on my case because of Jack, then there was the test, and the class, and octopus hands Olivier, and Pascal, and then we had lunch and the bus tour around Paris, and then we were dumped off here, so when was I supposed to find time to miss him, huh? HUH?”
“Oh,” Holly said. Just oh. She looked at me weird, though.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I said, shaking my finger at her. “You’re thinking I’m a bad girlfriend. You’re thinking that a good girlfriend would miss her boyfriend when they were separated, right? You’re thinking I don’t love Devon enough! You’re thinking that’s why he doesn’t want to do it with me, because there’s something wrong with me, and what’s wrong is that I don’t love him enough to be missing him every bloody second of the day like you miss Ruaraidh! That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? ISN’T IT?”
“No,” Holly said slowly, her eyes big like she was shocked. “I wasn’t thinking that at all.”
That’s what she said, but I knew the truth—Devon doesn’t want me any more because I’m a) ugly when I’m naked, and b) not as in love with him as I should be.
I’m a horrible girlfriend. I should turn in my GF card right here and now.
Sniffle, sniffle, sniffle.
I was too bummed to enjoy the dinner we had at the Le Jules Verne restaurant on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower, even though it was a really elegant restaurant, and everyone there thought Jack was too cute (I put him in his Nehru jacket for the evening out).
I’m going to bed. I’m too depressed to tell you any more, not that there is much more to tell.
Cheese in a basket, girl! You’re the only person I know who could go to Paris and work herself up into a hissy fit over nothing! You’re not a bad girlfriend. You’re not ugly naked! Devon does too want to do it with you! Will you stop with the pity party already?
Geesh, you’re supposed to be my friend and support me in my time of Great Need, not lecture me like Holly did last night. Oh, all right, I feel better. I was pretty depressed when I went to bed, but this morning I decided that I was just PMSy or something. I do miss Devon, it’s just that what with being in a foreign country and learning how to say things like voulez-vous cesser de me cracher dessus pendant que vous parlez (“will you stop spitting on me while you are speaking”—and yes, that’s your phrase for the day), I just didn’t have brain RAM to miss Devon, too. I think maybe I need to defrag my brain. Or upgrade to a bigger brain hard drive, heh heh heh.
say the cow? You’re kidding me, right?
Nope. They really do say it. So I’m going to, too, only not