“You know, I have… issues. My parents… my childhood.” Her eyes go glassy. Mal had a rough childhood. Despite being very wealthy, her parents neglected her much of her life, leaving her to be raised by various different nannies, and then when she was old enough, shipped off to boarding school. Her parents, she said, never once said “I love you”—not even in the birthday cards that the butler would sign. For a long time, I felt bad for her. Hell, I wanted to fix her. But you can’t fix someone else. I learned that the hard way. She sniffs, wiping a perfect, single tear off one thick eyelash. “You were the only one who ever really got me.”
“Mal.” I sigh, softer this time. “We can’t do this.”
“You sure felt differently last week.”
Here we go. Last week. When I bumped into Mal at a bar and, after one too many whiskeys on the rocks, made the mistake of going home with her. I just opened the door and let her back into my life. I’d been lonely, and she’d talked about her mother forgetting her birthday, and I felt bad for her. And, also, did I mention too much whiskey?
“That was a mistake.”
Mal whips out her phone and begins typing.
“What are you…”
Then my back pocket dings, announcing an incoming message.
“You didn’t block me,” Mal says, triumphant, as I pull out my phone and see she’s texted me a heart. “So must not have beenthatmuch of a mistake.”
“Mal…”
“Jack-a-boo,” she says, and touches my nose with the tip of her red nail. “You’ll always be my valentine.”
“That’s what’s beginning to worry me.”
“You sure you don’t want to come to lunch with me? I have reservations at Omakase.” A Michelin-starred gem where a single sushi roll can cost fifty dollars. “I’ll buy.”
“No.” I shake my head firmly. “I’m not going to lunch with you.”
She shrugs. “Your loss.” She picks up one of the cooling mini lemon tortes off the baking sheet in front of me and lifts it to her lips. She licks the edge. Makes me think about a snake with a forked tongue.
“You’re going to have to pay for that,” I tell her.
“Oh, I hope so.” She pops the torte in her mouth and swallows it, seemingly without chewing. Just like a snake gulping down a mouse. “Think about it, and get back to me.”
“I don’t need to—” She shushes me with a bloodred claw on my lips.
“Shhhh,” she purrs. She scratches the top of my lip as she removes her finger. “Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
“I won’t,” I call after her as she slinks away, moving a little like a scorpion in wedge heels.
Five
SORA
Going solo isn’t just about saying no to dates. It’s really all about saying yes to yourself.
—SOLO FEBRUARY CHALLENGE
My chance meeting with Jack reminds me why I should be glad I’ve pledged to go solo for the month. Sure, meeting Jack felt almost like fate, somehow. But then Mal showed up. Leggy, blond, and gorgeous. They probably have piles of inside jokes, and spend all their time snort-laughing over takeout and wine, while clad in matching couples’ pajama onesies. Either way, one day they’ll have beautiful babies who will star in diaper commercials.
I mean, it all tracks. And now I know that Jack is into tall Scandinavian models, ergo the opposite of me. Not that—let’s be honest—Jack’s even remotely in my league anyway. I still can’t get over Jack’s transformation. I mean, wow. Like, really… wow. So many muscles. That chiseled chin. Those broad, beefyshoulders. And he bakes! I pop another one of the man’s amazing tortes in my mouth and sigh. Does Mal even appreciate what she has? These are delicious.
Feeling nostalgic, I head to the study in my condo and dig through the piles of boxes. I find one in the corner marked “School Stuff.” This is it. I tug off the lid and find my old cap from college, my diploma in a cardboard sleeve, and beneath that, a stack of old yearbooks. I grab the one marked “fifth grade” and open it up. I find Jack’s picture first.
Aw, what a cute kid. Big brown eyes. Chubby cheeks. He was sweet, I remember. He would always let me borrow his pencil when mine broke. And he was sometimes hilarious. Like the time he did the actual worm on the playground on a dare. And, yeah, he was a little overweight, maybe. His eyes are the same, and his nose. Not to mention his bright smile. I feel bad for believing that he stole my candy, when probably that bully Boyan Debnar did.
I check out my picture and cringe. Why am I wearing a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt on picture daywitha My Little Pony choker necklace? Why am I smiling so hard it hurts? I’m hopeless.
I flip to the back of my yearbook where there are tons of squiggly signatures. Jack signed it. He wrote, “Have a fun summer. BEE cool.” And he drew an actual bumblebee wearing sunglasses, except the drawing is kind of skewed and hilarious. The bee looks half smashed, and one of the sunglass lenses is way bigger than the other. I take a picture of this with the intent of somehow sending it to Jack just to relentlessly tease him about it, except that I can’t. Because he has a girlfriend.
