Page 77 of Tap Left
I offer her a gummy worm, and she exchanges it for a different color from the bag. We chat while she catches her breath and I scroll through my VUDU wish list.
“I’ve got some movies picked out.” I wiggle the phone at her. “Your turn to pick.”
Mellie browses through the selection and settles on Bridesmaids. Thirty minutes later, we’re on the sofa laughing our asses off and sick from too much food. Tears leak out of my eyes when I watch the plane scene for the hundredth time. “This is what I needed.”
“Me too,” Mellie sighs. “Work has been absolutely nuts.”
I nod and pop a couple milk duds into my mouth, trying to chew around them while she fills me in on her crazy colleagues.
“How’s project Lola coming along?” she asks. “Still doing well?”
“Really well.” It feels like a lie, but I don’t know why. Things are going good. And if I can just keep myself from thinking about Daire, then I’ll be doing just fine.
“Any more news from he who I should probably not mention?”
I stare at the TV. The last thing I want to talk about is Daire, but maybe if I purge the words from my body, I can purge him from my mind too. “He came to the shop.”
Mellie wrinkles her nose when she watches me dunk a salt and vinegar chip into some vanilla ice cream.
“I don’t know how you aren’t sick right now.”
“It’s a gift.” I shrug. “I have maximum junk food processing efficiency.”
“What did Daire say?”
I pretend to be absorbed by the scene on television, so I don’t have to make eye contact when I speak. “He said he loves me. He said he hasn’t had a drink in a year, and he wishes he’d never fucked up. He wants to be with me. Yada, yadda, yadda.”
She doesn’t answer right away, and I can’t handle it. I turn to Mellie. She’s studying me too carefully for my liking, and I know my emotions are probably written all over my face.
“Do you believe him?”
“How can I? All he’s ever done is play games.”
She nods in agreement. “True. But he hasn’t ever really lied about drinking. That’s a first.”
I bite my lip to keep any confessions from spilling out. My armor is at its weakest right now, and I’m already on the verge of admitting that I do believe him. Not because of his words, but his actions. He hasn’t been shaking. He hasn’t been calling me at all hours of the night. It’s the easiest and simplest explanation, but that isn’t the way my mind works. I want to overcomplicate the situation. I want to protect myself from Daire in any way that I can.
My phone chimes and I pick it up, grateful for the interruption.
ThatGuy:
So a guy walks into a bar…
LolaB:
I feel a cheesy joke coming on.
ThatGuy:
You’d be right.
LolaB:
What’s the punchline?
ThatGuy:
Damn. I always screw these up. What I meant to say was a guy (Tom Hanks, specifically) walks into a coffee shop.
