I’m too much.From deep within comes a notion I’ve suspected for as long as I can remember. It clogs my throat and thickens the blood in my veins.
Without fail, my inner control freak rears her anxious head and ruins everything, but if my dates couldn’t deal with that side of me…
Well, I can’t figure out how to be any other way, and I don’t understand why that’s not okay.
Through the compulsive churning that definitely doesn’t do me any favors in the dating department, I flash Arlene a grin and say, “See what I mean?”
Titters and cackles ring the room. For all my quirks and flaws, I can ease most situations with a touch of humor. Not only does it relax those around me, it allows me to focus on something besides my faults and failures for a while.
Ice cubes rattle as Bubbie Bette passes her drink from one hand to the other and slings an arm around Arlene. “Our new friend is recently divorced and having a hard time adjusting. So, we’ve come together tonight to—”
“Show her the perks of being unattached,” Grandma Helen says.
“Give her a pep talk about dating again,” says Bubbie Ruth.
“Assure her that her soulmate could still be out there,” Gertie chimes in, her features all dreamy as she snuggles closer to Vonetta.
“It’s about finding balance and joy within,” Vonetta adds in her rich bravado, self-assuredness rolling off her in waves. Someday, I seriously need the woman who built a skincare empire to teach me the ways of the self-assured. “Once you’re vibrating at a higher frequency, you’ll attract similar.”
Arlene doesn’t argue, something I instinctively know she wants to do because we’re wearing the same dubious, pursed-lip expression.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Wanda waves a hand through the air and hiccups. “While I’m all about peace and love and letting the universe take the wheel, what Arlene really needs is a good lay—her ex-husband was a selfish lover.”
Groans and gasps follow, a cacophony of frustration experienced by females everywhere.
“!Què horror!”Rita tsks.“What is it you call it, Wanda? Two-pump chump?”
Wanda nods, an enthusiastic bobblehead doll with a wonky screw, and Arlene’s pale skin blotches red. She throws a hand over her face, causing her words to come out muffled. “I never should’ve told you that.”
“Tell me?It took a month and two margaritas to pry out that much.” Wanda sips and swipes her tongue across pearly pink lip gloss that never seems to fade or smudge. “And once we find eligible candidates to scratch that itch”—she waggles her eyebrows—“you’ll be thanking me.”
My grandmother shifts closer and stage whispers, “Big surprise, Arlene still needs a little convincing.”
I pivot and lean against the counter on Arlene’s other side, beneath a framed needlepoint that saysi don’t cook but i like to stir the potin blue and pink thread. How very on-the-nose and, since I’ve been there before—hell,I’m there now—I hook my elbow through hers in solidarity. “Me too, girl. Let’s get there together.”
The sloppy smiles that spread across their faces have canary-eating edges, and my spidey senses start tingling.
“We’resohappy to hear that,” Wanda cheers, bouncing on the balls of her bare feet, the boobs she bought after kicking breast cancer’s ass challenging the spaghetti straps of her top. “Because we planned a similar pep talk for you.”
My gut dive-bombs. “Oh no,” I say, desperate to stop the interference train before it fully leaves the station.
“But after running into you earlier today”—Wanda charges on with a scary amount of determination—“we thought we might not have to.” She leans in, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.
It takes longer than it should to click, and while I wouldn’t normally celebrate them jumping to the wrong conclusion, I’m secretly grateful for anything that’ll delay a discussion about the community.
“Oh, come now.” Vonetta arches an eyebrow and pins me with the glare that made board executives cry for their mommies. “What’s up with you and that yummy doctor?”
I gasp in her direction. Of the lot of them, I thought she’d be the one on my side.
Not that there are sides.
“We’re pointing fingers, are we?” This is it. The unavoidable moment I have to not only announce there’s an elephant in the room, but that she also has HPV. “Because all that happened is Dr. Vasquez—”
“Oooh,did you hear the way she said his name?” Bette bumps shoulders with Rita and grins at Grandma Helen, visions of a wedding and unborn grandchildren dancing through their heads.
As if the bubbies don’t already have enough. Between all three widows—who share the giant house at the end of the cul-de-sac—they have four dogs, two cats, a hamster who’s frequently replaced but never renamed, andtwenty-threegrandchildren.
“Told you there was a spark,” Vonetta whispers to me—no, to Gertie, as evidently I don’t get a say in how I feel about the doctor with the delicious dimples.
