for a reason, then, or do I have to come down there and beat it out of you?” Electra demanded. Harsh, but necessary. Ava pretends. She denies. She can go wacky just like that. It’s hard to know when she’s on and when she’s off.
“I fucked up an audition,” Ava told her, pouting anew.
“Oh, is that all?” Electra asked, none too sorry.
“It was for a movie, Electra,” Ava informed her. “I would have been billed.”
“As what?”
“Party Girl Number Three,” Ava replied.
“Pooh,” Electra dismissed. “You’re Party Girl Number One, sugar.” She got up from the couch. “Now howsabout I turn off this depressing moaning and put in something we can sing to? That’ll make you feel better!”
“You don’t even care,” Ava grumbled.
“Sure I do!” Electra said, turning on my karaoke microphone. I think I have a serious problem because sometimes I’ll use it when nobody’s home.
“But you’re just trying to make me forget about it,” Ava complained.
Electra started dancing around the living room, singing “Back in Baby’s Arms.”
“I’m serious,” Ava told me.
Electra climbed up onto the coffee table, really belting it out. She always dresses like she’s going clubbing. In her shockingly low-cut red pants and seriously scandalous red spangled tank top, it was like watching Shakira but hearing Patsy Cline.
Ava’s good at depression, very good—but not even she could help herself. She laughed hysterically. In all honesty, it’s pretty easy to placate her.
I drained a bottle of Coors Light (who the hell bought that?) I’d found way in the back of the fridge. It had no label and that meant it was free to anyone who wanted it. Electra labels everything because if she doesn’t, she thinks we’ll eat her food. I would never eat her food. She eats the grossest shit I’ve ever seen. I don’t even know what half of it is. She has cheese that looks like Kraft Singles, but when you read the label you see that it’s really fake veggie cheese made from a bunch of supposedly healthy crap. I don’t think anything that color can truly be healthy no matter what it’s made from.
Electra collapsed on the couch and fanned herself with a Lucky magazine. “Any calls, Ava?”
“Just Jeremy. He said to call him, Doll.”
“I don’t know why. He called me at work after he talked to you,” I told her.
“Typical.”
“Yes, and how typical of him to come running as soon as Roman’s touched down on foreign soil,” Electra said, her voice decidedly snotty. I knew she was just jealous that she didn’t have anyone to come running just then. Except for brief moments of kindness or hilarity, Electra really only wears one face. Not much mystery there.
Ava jumped to her feet and slipped and slid over to me across the smooth floor in her socks. I let her fall into me and take my hand in her dainty way. She turned my finger this way and that, trying to catch the light with the diamond. “Are you going to keep seeing Jeremy, Doll?”
“I’m going to keep hanging out with him, yes.”
“He sleeps over, though.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like we’re screwing every time. I just…need that.”
“Need what?”
“Him. His company.”
“Then why are you marrying Roman?”
Ava pretends like she’s dumb but she’s really not. A space-case for sure, but if you watch Jeopardy! with her she busts out with every answer and you get embarrassed that you didn’t know half that shit when Ava of all people did. Ava thinks you have to pretend to be dumb to get what you want. Sometimes it works.
I pushed her off me. “You know why I’m marrying Roman. I love him.”
“But you love Jeremy, too…don’t you?”
“But I love you, too…and I’m not going to stop seeing you, am I?”
She frowned. “I guess it’s kind of the same thing.”
“Yeah, and you can’t just give up a bad habit just like that,” Electra contributed. “Like smoking. You know it’s unhealthy but you do it, anyway.”
“Are you going to quit?” Ava asked me.
“Eventually. When I get tired of waking up with a bad cigarette hangover.”
Electra cracked up. It’s nice to have her empathy sometimes. I welcome the change.
I know Roman would never have an affair. Never! But he’s over saving the citizens of Cameroon from a bleaker fate. I’m here. Huge difference. Excuses, excuses.
“Hey, while we’re on the subject of Stupid, what does he think of you being engaged, anyway?” Electra asked curiously.
“He said good luck, but he meant it sarcastically.”
Ava put her head on my shoulder, all dreamy. “It’s all so romantic, this separation. That you have to wait to be reunited and when you are, you’ll be getting married! It’s just so romantic!”
“Yeah…I know it.” It’s so romantic, I say all the time. Our relationship is just pure romance. A real fantasy. It’s such a fucking fantasy that in the two years that we’ve been together, I think I’ve only seen him on fifteen separate occasions.
I patted Ava’s head. “Why don’t we get you out of that old shirt and go to Barney’s Beanery? Maybe it would do you some good to get out of the house.”
“Okay,” Ava agreed. She got up. “You come too, Electra.”
“I will.” Electra watched her leave the room. She looked impressed. “That was pretty nice of you, Doll.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, well…I’m feeling magnanimous.”
We raised our eyebrows at each other. Then we laughed.
I called Jeremy before we left and told him to meet us. I was looking forward to seeing him. He’s not the world’s easiest person, but we connect. Maybe because I suppose I can be pretty difficult, too. Sometimes we don’t give each other even one inch. Electra says we are so close that we know each other’s every fault, and so we get defensive with each other. She doesn’t know everything, but she is right about him knowing my every fault. I tell him things I could never, ever tell Roman.
At the Beanery I hung out by the bar, sipping pale ale as Electra and Ava played pool. There was a big swarm of guys around their table. Ava practically has Come fuck me over written across her forehead and Electra can’t go anywhere without having men accost her. She loves that. It gives her more power as a feminist because she can say they’re only interested in her body. Well of
