OH MY GOD, HE’S GOT TIVO!!!!!! I just found the remote, wedged in between the sofa cushions. TiVo. I’ve never had a boyfriend who had TiVo. I’ve never had a boyfriend who owned his own TV. I mean, I bought the one Dale and I—
Wait. I need to get a grip. Yes, Mitch seems like he might—in spite of the whole getting me fired thing—be a great guy. And yes, he has a great apartment.
But, even though he used to be a public defender, right now he’s making five hundred dollars an hour defending corporate giants from the likes of little Mrs. Lopez, who has never hurt anyone (who didn’t deserve it, anyway).
And he’s so cavalier about the whole thing, he got me fired. FIRED!!!!
Besides which, I have a lot of problems right now. I can’t be jumping into a romantic relationship with someone I’ve only just met. I need to find a job, and an apartment, and a sense of purpose to my life. Professor Wingblade said that you can never truly love anyone until you learn to love yourself, and the truth is, I am finding it very hard to love myself since I got fired. Not that I define myself through my work. It’s just that . . . without my work, who AM I? What is my purpose here on earth? I want to make a difference and help people, but no one will seem to LET ME. So if I can’t do what I was put on this earth to do, WHY AM I EVEN HERE????
And seriously, supposing something DOES develop between Mitch and me. How am I going to introduce him to people? “Oh, this is my boyfriend, funny story: He’s the one who got me fired?”
Um, that will not exactly endear him to my social set, if you know what I mean.
But, oh my God, he has such really nice lips! Mitch, does, I mean. What’s a public defender doing with lips like that? It’s not FAIR!!! I was looking at Mitch’s mouth all through dinner, when he was telling me about the year he took off to travel around the world. And his lips really are very beautifully shaped. They look like they’d be really . . . strong. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s weak lips. But no need to worry about Mitch’s. I have a feeling those lips of his could make a girl forget all about being destitute and homeless . . . and quite a few other things, as well—
Damn. The Praying Mantis. I forgot about the Praying Mantis! Are they dating? Are they just friends? What is up between the two of them? Why didn’t I remember to ask over dinner? God, if he’s seeing her, I will just have to KILL MYSELF. How can I compete with an Ingres-like praying mantis in designer duds, especially when I can barely afford control-top pantyhose?
What the hell. I don’t want to have a relationship with a lawyer. Do I?
Oh my God, I just peeked into the kitchen, and he madebraised pears in chocolate sauce for dessert. Braised pears in chocolate sauce with VANILLA HA¨AGEN-DAZS for dessert—
HOW IS ANY WOMAN SUPPOSED TO RESIST THIS MAN?
Journal of Kate Mackenzie
Oh my God! This is HORRIBLE!!!! I was right! I was right! About his lips, I mean! They are VERY strong!
This is AWFUL. His lips are so strong, I am practically melting into the couch. Oh, WHY did I kiss him? WHY WHY WHY???? I do NOT need to be falling in love right now—particularly not with a lawyer!
It’s all my fault, though. We were just enjoying our braised pears in chocolate sauce when suddenly something, I don’t know what, came over me. I think it was when he was talking about his nieces and how he was teaching them to speak Japanese (for instance, thatbacca means “stupid”) and one of them asked how Japanese people could understand each other when they were all speaking this foreign language, and then one said to the other, “Because they were BORN speaking it, ya bacca!”
And something inside of me just snapped, and I HAD to jump on him and start kissing him, I just had to, Praying Mantis be damned!
And oh my God, he looked so surprised. But kind of happy, too.
And I was right. I was SO right. He has really, really strong lips, and he kisses like he means it, and we must have been kissing for like half an hour, because all the ice cream melted. But that’s not all that melted, because I swear to God I think I am now one with my control-top panty hose, which I had to wear because the dress I borrowed from Dolly is so tight my stomach was pooching out in front, and now I think got so hot from all the kissing that my skin has become grafted to the Lycra, and thank God Mitch excused himself when he did, or there might possibly have been a small thermal nuclear reaction in the vicinity of my crotch, and now if I can just peel these stupid things off without him coming back while I’m doing it, maybe he won’t ever know I was wearing control-top hose in the first place.
Where did he go, anyway? Oh my God, what if he left because he knows it’s wrong to be getting involved like this with an unemployed homeless person? Even though he does keep insisting that he’s going to get me my job back. Only I don’t know how, it’s not like I’m in a union like Mrs. Lopez and can sue the company for not giving me written warning or anything.
But excuse me, he makes a living—or used to, anyway, defending society’s rejects. Who is HE to look down on a person just because she happens to be unemployed—thanks entirely to HIM, by the way?
Wait—what if that’s not why he excused himself at all? What if he excused himself because of the Praying Mantis? What if I jumped on him before he got a chance to explain that he and the Praying Mantis are engaged?
Well, screw her. I don’t condone boyfriend-stealing, but goddammit, you can’t make braised pears for a girl and expect her to—
NO! God! What is WRONG with me? I do NOT want to be in a relationship right now.
WAIT! What if he went to go get a condom? Is that what guys do? I mean Dale never did because we were each other’s first and onlies—well, until tonight, maybe—and who knows what is going on with him and that Vivica girl—
And besides, I’m on the Pill.
But this is different, this is two adults in the big city, not high-school kids fooling around in the back of the boy’s mom’s Chevette. Should I have said something, like, “Don’t worry, I have protection,” since I do, in my purse?
But maybe the girl isn’t supposed to say that. Maybe that’s, like, slutty. Maybe I should have just reached casually down and brought out the pack—
MAYBE I SHOULD JUST LEAVE!!!!!!!!!! Because, seriously, where is this going to go? I moved to New York to HELP people, how can I possibly have a relationship with someone who—
But public defenders help people, don’t they?
Except he’s not a public defender anymore, he’s—oh, God—
What is the sound of one hand clapping? What is the weight of a single grain of sand? Equal to my interest in the message you are about to leave. Speak at the tone.
(Tone)
Mitchell. This is your mother. Mitchell, if you’re there, pick up. Mitchell, this is serious. Your little sister is missing. Janice has run away. I came home from the American Doll Society meeting and she was gone. I have no idea where she is and I’m worried sick, because . . . well, we had a little tiff earlier. Is she with you, Mitchell? I can’t think where else she’d go. If you hear from her, Mitchell, let me know. I know we aren’t exactly speaking right now, you and I, but . . . well, I would think you could let your own mother know that her child is all right. I mean, it would be common courtesy to do so. Whatever your personal feelings about me might be. So . . . call me. Please.
(Click)
To: Stacy Trent <IH8BARNEY@freemail.com>
Fr: Mitchell Hertzog <mitchell.hertzog@hwd.com>
Re: We need to talk
Get whichever one of your children who is on the phone and not picking up the Call Waiting OFF the phone and call me.