their bills.”
“He definitely looks broke.”
“Definitely.”
“At least I got her shoes pretty good,” I said. We both started giggling uncontrollably.
“That you did.” We laughed a little more and then things quieted.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said.
“Shoot.”
“When was the last time you had a real boyfriend, like, not just a hot guy to bang?”
Artemis laughed but there was no lightness to it. “I’m a little much for one guy to handle.” She paused. “Sometimes I think no one would want to handle me for very long.” Her face looked so sad.
“Of course they would. You have serious man trap!”
“Man trap? What kind of Roxy-ism is that?”
“It means guys like you. Like, a lot.”
“But I don’t trap them. The thing is, when it comes to me and guys…” She paused. I waited for what she was going to reveal, not daring to breathe. But then her face changed, as if she’d made a decision not to wallow, and she sat up. “I’m catch and release, baby,” she joked as she leaned over and tugged the bedspread up under my chin. “Well, I’m gonna head out.” She stood up and walked to the doorway.
“No way. We’re lucky we didn’t get pulled over on the way home—you had like six drinks. You can stay in Everett’s old room,” I said. “There are fresh sheets.”
“I can drive.”
“Don’t be an idiot. I’m in no shape to go bail you out of jail.”
“Okay,” she said.
“I keep spare new toothbrushes in the cabinet.”
“Of course you do.”
“Artemis?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks for the necklace.”
“Sure thing. You deserve it.”
I can’t explain it, but when I heard the water running in the bathroom, it made me happy. There’s truly something to having another human soul in the house.
Feeling both humiliated and well friended,
Roxy
P.S. As my spiral notebook fills with letters to you, letters I know I will never give you, I have to consider this as a bizarre new anti-phase to our friendship. And though you have “abandoned” me for a household of sexually venturesome OMers, it’s refreshing to know I am capable of finding friendship and support elsewhere.
July 31, 2012
Dear Everett,
I feel so much better today—though considerably weakened, I am no longer sick. The vomiting that laid waste to my dignity was definitely food poisoning and not a virus. This morning I texted Annie and during her lunch break she came by to visit. As soon as I opened the door she said, “Oh man, you look terrible.” In contrast, she looked fabulous, with big gold hoops and her hair in braids. She bustled in with her bag full of vegan broth, natural ginger ale, and gluten-free crackers. A moment later I was alternately sipping broth and telling her the whole story of what happened at Emo’s.
“Dirty Steve is just wrong!” Annie said. “Do you want me to tell Topher Doyle he poisoned you with expired sushi?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think that’s necessarily the best use of your proximity to power. Also, Artemis told me she thinks I should never rat out Dirty Steve, that I can just totally get revenge on him myself.”
“The girl just sounds off,” Annie said. “I mean, the things you’ve told me about her make her sound like some kind of sex-addicted mental patient. I’m not sure she should be a go-to person for life advice.”
“Well, I think she’s right about not involving Topher Doyle. It’s like going to a Daddy-type authority figure for help with something I can figure out myself. If we want to tear down the patriarchy, we have to start by resisting the urge to ask Daddy figures to step in and solve our problems.”
“Now you’re feeling better!” Annie said. “Oh, and I have some good news for you. I looked into Duckie & Lambie Moisturizer, and it’s totally aboveboard on animal treatment. They’re sourcing everything from some small family farm. And they’re only in Austin stores, so it’s a real mom-and-pop operation.”
“Great,” I said lamely. But somehow it did not make me feel better. “Do you think you could convince Topher Doyle to stop stocking their products in Whole Foods stores anyway?”
“What happened to not turning to patriarchal figures to solve your problems?”
“Did you find out whose farm it is? Is it Cold Connie Caldwell’s family farm?” I asked. “And how much is that company making? Could you find that out too?”
“Look, I’m sorry your ex was a dickhead. Really sorry. And I’m sad he stole your artwork and is using it to a hideous end. But I love you