I ripped open the potato chips bag and popped a chip into my mouth. “That’s great. I’m so happy for you,” Destiny said. “I’m bringing you back macadamia nuts and a shell necklace.” She giggled, and I heard a man’s voice in the background.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your fun,” I said.
She giggled, again. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she said, sounding a little more sober. It was my moment to tell her about Steve, Tight Tammy, my car, and my bank accounts. It was my moment to get a wave of sympathy from my best friend.
But she was giggling and happy. She was on vacation and having shex. And she would be back in a little over a week, and then it would be all day and all night sympathy and talking about my asshat husband. So, I decided to let her have a last, happy week on her vacation.
Besides, she wouldn’t like that I was trying to win him back. She would quote Gloria Steinem, buy me a diaphragm, a box of condoms, and force me back to the women’s club. Blech. That would be worse than egg whites and running.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just a little sore.”
“Me, too,” she said and giggled again.
When I got off the phone, I was thrust back into the quiet of my house. I had muted the television, and now the only sound was my chip-crunching and the soft tick-tick of the kitchen clock. “I’m not going to cry,” I said, trying to break through the quiet. The silence of the empty house seemed to close in, suffocating me. I began to gasp for air. “I’m not going to freak out,” I said. “I’m definitely not going to freak out.”
I forced thoughts of relaxing and happy things into my brain. Sandy beaches, turquoise water, Mozart, and puppies… I crammed them all into my cerebral cortex or whatever part of the brain held images. The image of puppies calmed me the most. I had always wanted a dog, but Steve said they were disease carriers.
I wondered what kind of disease dogs carried. I didn’t want anything major, like malaria or typhus, but I might have put up with a small disease like pink eye to have a dog to fill up the quiet, empty house. Putting the chip bag down on the corner of the counter, a few chips spilled out onto the divorce papers. I dusted the chips off and caught the wordsrelinquish the propertyandno spousal supporton the divorce papers. “Don’t freak out,” I said to myself, turning them over, so I couldn’t see the words.
But it was too late. I was halfway to freaked out, and there was no turning back. I turned on the TV and blasted the volume, but it didn’t help.
“I need help,” I told myself. “And I probably shouldn’t talk to myself.”
Joe rang my doorbell twenty minutes later. “I’m delivering your happiness,” he said with a smile when I opened the door. I stepped aside, and he walked in and headed to the kitchen with a large paper bag. “Sorry it took so long. I had a big delivery to a frat party. How are you?”
Was that a trick question? I had called him every night for the past three nights, ordering all kinds of junk food. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduce how I was. Tonight, I had ordered donut holes and a pound of broccoli, even though I was sure Joe was catching on to my decoy vegetable orders.
“Just fine. Just fine,” I said, forcing a smile. I wasn’t happy, but I was happy to see him. He filled the quiet of my house, and I didn’t feel as lonely anymore with him there.
Joe took the broccoli out of the bag and put it in the refrigerator. Then, he put the donut holes in the cabinet and stuffed the paper bag with the others under the sink. He knew my house better than I did.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” I asked, surprising myself. It was a blatant attempt at preventing him from leaving. My panic level was rising, knowing that he was about to walk out the door and leave me alone, again. Joe was surprised by my offer, too. He stared at me with his eyes open wide and his smile drooping a little. “I have donut holes, too. They go great with coffee,” I added, sweetening the pot. If he didn’t want the donuts, I was afraid I would block his exit with my body and disgrace myself big time.
The seconds ticked away. Well, maybe one second ticked away. But it seemed like forever. I guess time slows down when a person thinks they’re going to be rejected. I held my breath. I thought about telling him I was joking, that I didn’t really want to have coffee with him because I had a very hectic social calendar and didn’t have time to waste. I opened my mouth, but Joe beat me to it.
“Coffee sounds spectacular,” he said, his smile back in full form. “Donut holes, too. I have to admit that your holes gave me a hankering for my own.”
He took a seat on a barstool and laid his forearms on the counter. I two-stepped to the coffeemaker and brewed a pot of decaf hazelnut. “Cream?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t refuse it.” I took the cream out of the fridge and poured some into a crystal cream dispenser. “This is very nice of you to invite me for coffee. Nice to take time out of your evening for me.”
I bit my lip, in order not to divulge that he was only interrupting the next infomercial. I poured two cups and handed him one. I remained standing on the other side of the counter and took a sip. “The donut holes,” I exclaimed, remembering them. I took them out of the cabinet and laid them out on one of my small wedding plates, remembering every ounce of Emily Post I could… although Emily Post was pretty quiet about donut holes. Joe took one and dunked it in his coffee. It looked good, and I did the same.
“I’m sorry to take you away from your deliveries,” I said, after my second donut hole. Joe ate a donut in one bite and gulped his coffee. He ate with a lot of gusto, like there was nothing he would rather be doing.
“Actually, I’m not on call today. Someone else is on delivery duty.”
“But…” I started, looking at the donut holes.
Joe’s face turned a light shade of red. “I heard your call come in, and since I’ve been your regular Delivery Happiness man, I thought I would do the delivery, anyway. Is that weird?” he asked after thinking about it for a moment.
Was that weird? A few days ago, I would have said that was just good service, but now standing a foot away from him, our eyes locked, and some kind of communication passing between us, I wasn’t sure. Lately, either men were shitting all over me, or they were bending over backwards to help me out. Who was I to say what was weird and what was normal? I seemed to have fallen into a parallel universe where nothing made sense, and everything was weird.
“No, not weird at all,” I said.
Joe nodded and smiled. “Good. I live about ten miles away, up in the mountains, and it’s a nice bike ride to your house. I enjoy it. How’s your bike treating you?”
“I haven’t had a chance to use it yet. To tell you the truth, I’m sort of afraid to ride it out on the street.”
