Breaking Up Is Hard To Do [part II]
Continued from part I
"So does Zee edit lesbian porn too?" asks Andrew, when Zee has gone to the ladies room.
"No, she sells drugs," I tell him.
"Coke? Heroin?"
"Viagra."
Zee knows a little about Jack. She knows about my Cinderella birthday present last summer. She knows he's tall and handsome — she's seen the picture of us taken at Sara's wedding. I felt bad, showing it to her now, when she's having relationship problems. It felt like I was rubbing it in. Not that my relationship, such as it is, is so perfect, but it sure is a swell photo, don't you think?
Zee has returned from the ladies room.
"So?" she asks again,"What do you think I should do?"
"Have another drink."
Zee also knows about what happened in September. She'd seen the fabulous pink dress, and had been admiring it, and all the smashing accessories I'd collected for it, all from eBay: the pink satin silver trimmed clutch, the pink rhinestone barrette, the pink rhinestone cocktail ring that exactly matched the buttons on the coat, and the shoes; oh, the shoes! When I told her that I hadn't yet been able to find earrings, she said, "Wait a minute," ran to her place, and was back in ten minutes with them. The absolutely perfect pair of pink rhinestone earrings.
Andrew sets another gin and tonic down in front of Zee, and another pint of Moosehead in front of me. He is grinning.
"Viagra, eh?"
"Forget it," I say to him. "She's heard all the jokes." Then, to Zee, "I don't understand men."
"You're looking to the wrong person for clarification on that," she says.
"I mean about the Viagra. Correct me if I'm wrong — you're the expert — but isn't Viagra a medication for men who have a problem? So why do they all want it? You'd think they'd be embarassed."
"Oh, they're not embarassed. They flash it around like a badge of honour; like teenagers carrying a condom for the first time. The worst are my customers, the doctors and the pharmacists. I doubt the samples I give them ever make it to the patients."
When I went to San Francisco for my birthday last August, Zee made me promise to take lots of pictures. She wanted to see the guy that I hadn't been able to shut up about. So I promised I would, but I broke that promise. It was the most fantastic, romantic, fairy tale weekend of my life, and I didn't want to share it with anyone other than Jack. So I didn't take any pictures.
"Darryl was always bugging me to try it," says Zee.
"The Viagra?"
"Yeah. But I wouldn't let him. His problem isn't physical, it's emotional. He needs a therapist, not a pharmacist."
When Jack didn't come for Carly and Simon's wedding, I avoided Zee for a week, but eventually I had to give the earrings back; I had to tell her what had happened. But after New York, I went to her place straight from the airport to tell her that this time, he had come.
The Star is still lying beside me, on the bar. I ask Andrew for the scissors and snip some headlines. I lay them out on the bar for him to choose from.
In the auto section there's a big red headline, part of a car dealer's ad. I can't resist: IT KEEPS GETTING HARDER. Andrew tapes it to the front of his shirt.
"Any lawyers here?" I ask Andrew. From a headline reading something about rumours dim advocates' hopes, I snip DIM ADVOCATE.
I cut a word from another car dealer ad: HUMMER. Jason, the architect, who has been sitting on my other side, watching, says, "How'd you know that one?"
"I teach twenty year olds," I answer.
"I'm the best thing that's ever happened to him, and he knows it," Zee told me on Sunday night, after she had confronted Darryl about his weekend. "His brother, his sister-in-law, his father, they've all told me, Darryl's a different person. What have you done to him? You two are perfect for each other. I would do anything for him. I would take a bullet for him. Well, maybe not today, I wouldn't. Today I want to put one in him.
Zee was saying, "I should have my head examined for putting up with him, shouldn't I? I mean, if he doesn't realize how great we are together, how much I love him... why don't I just give up? You must think I'm crazy."
"You know I don't."
Zee doesn't know that "Crazy" is my other theme song.
Zee lets out an exasperated sigh. "Men. Argh. Why are they like that?"
"Have you ever seen that poster?"
"Which one?"
"This one:"
"Don't give up on him," I tell her, finally.
To be concluded tomorrow.
"So does Zee edit lesbian porn too?" asks Andrew, when Zee has gone to the ladies room.
"No, she sells drugs," I tell him.
"Coke? Heroin?"
"Viagra."
Zee knows a little about Jack. She knows about my Cinderella birthday present last summer. She knows he's tall and handsome — she's seen the picture of us taken at Sara's wedding. I felt bad, showing it to her now, when she's having relationship problems. It felt like I was rubbing it in. Not that my relationship, such as it is, is so perfect, but it sure is a swell photo, don't you think?
Zee has returned from the ladies room.
"So?" she asks again,"What do you think I should do?"
"Have another drink."
Zee also knows about what happened in September. She'd seen the fabulous pink dress, and had been admiring it, and all the smashing accessories I'd collected for it, all from eBay: the pink satin silver trimmed clutch, the pink rhinestone barrette, the pink rhinestone cocktail ring that exactly matched the buttons on the coat, and the shoes; oh, the shoes! When I told her that I hadn't yet been able to find earrings, she said, "Wait a minute," ran to her place, and was back in ten minutes with them. The absolutely perfect pair of pink rhinestone earrings.
Andrew sets another gin and tonic down in front of Zee, and another pint of Moosehead in front of me. He is grinning.
"Viagra, eh?"
"Forget it," I say to him. "She's heard all the jokes." Then, to Zee, "I don't understand men."
"You're looking to the wrong person for clarification on that," she says.
"I mean about the Viagra. Correct me if I'm wrong — you're the expert — but isn't Viagra a medication for men who have a problem? So why do they all want it? You'd think they'd be embarassed."
"Oh, they're not embarassed. They flash it around like a badge of honour; like teenagers carrying a condom for the first time. The worst are my customers, the doctors and the pharmacists. I doubt the samples I give them ever make it to the patients."
When I went to San Francisco for my birthday last August, Zee made me promise to take lots of pictures. She wanted to see the guy that I hadn't been able to shut up about. So I promised I would, but I broke that promise. It was the most fantastic, romantic, fairy tale weekend of my life, and I didn't want to share it with anyone other than Jack. So I didn't take any pictures.
"Darryl was always bugging me to try it," says Zee.
"The Viagra?"
"Yeah. But I wouldn't let him. His problem isn't physical, it's emotional. He needs a therapist, not a pharmacist."
When Jack didn't come for Carly and Simon's wedding, I avoided Zee for a week, but eventually I had to give the earrings back; I had to tell her what had happened. But after New York, I went to her place straight from the airport to tell her that this time, he had come.
The Star is still lying beside me, on the bar. I ask Andrew for the scissors and snip some headlines. I lay them out on the bar for him to choose from.
In the auto section there's a big red headline, part of a car dealer's ad. I can't resist: IT KEEPS GETTING HARDER. Andrew tapes it to the front of his shirt.
"Any lawyers here?" I ask Andrew. From a headline reading something about rumours dim advocates' hopes, I snip DIM ADVOCATE.
I cut a word from another car dealer ad: HUMMER. Jason, the architect, who has been sitting on my other side, watching, says, "How'd you know that one?"
"I teach twenty year olds," I answer.
"I'm the best thing that's ever happened to him, and he knows it," Zee told me on Sunday night, after she had confronted Darryl about his weekend. "His brother, his sister-in-law, his father, they've all told me, Darryl's a different person. What have you done to him? You two are perfect for each other. I would do anything for him. I would take a bullet for him. Well, maybe not today, I wouldn't. Today I want to put one in him.
Zee was saying, "I should have my head examined for putting up with him, shouldn't I? I mean, if he doesn't realize how great we are together, how much I love him... why don't I just give up? You must think I'm crazy."
"You know I don't."
Zee doesn't know that "Crazy" is my other theme song.
Zee lets out an exasperated sigh. "Men. Argh. Why are they like that?"
"Have you ever seen that poster?"
"Which one?"
"This one:"
"Don't give up on him," I tell her, finally.
To be concluded tomorrow.
Labels: girl friends, hanging in bars
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