“Tell me about it!”
“I figured you’d understand. Anyway, I was an absolute jackass to her the next day.” I told her about Monday evening. “I more or less told her to fuck off and die. Not in so many words, but that was the gist of it.”
“Sounds like it. And you’re right, you are a judgmental asshole.”
“Told you. But what do I do? I mean… I really like this girl. That’s why I
tried to push her away. Same thing you were doing with Daphne earlier.”
“Do you want to fix things with Christy? Or do you want the other girl, Gina?”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem. Gina is… awesome. She’s fun, she’s smart, she’s pretty, she’s everything. But Christy is… I dunno. It’s hard to explain. She’s exciting. She’s pretty too, and smart in a different way. But she’s also talented and creative. She puts me to shame.”
“I remember that. Everyone in the art department talked about her.”
I nodded. “She’s also… I dunno. I can’t figure it out. Something about her just gets me worked up. One minute I want to jump her bones, the next I’m so angry I turn into mega-jerk.”
“Sounds like you do have problems,” she laughed. “Makes mine seem insignificant.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” I said. “Your problems are plenty big.”
“Thanks for reminding me— Oh, shit! I gotta go. Call me tomorrow.
Before nine o’clock. Okay? Bye!”
The line clicked.
I stared at the phone and wondered if the past hour had really happened.
Chapter 17
Wren cornered me after she came home from the pool on Thursday. She bounced up the stairs and stuck her head into Christy’s studio. Then, as if on a whim, she poked her nose into mine.
I looked up from my painting. “Seriously? You can’t think of anything more clever than that?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You can hear the water running downstairs. Christy’s in the shower. So if you’re up here, you’re looking for me.”
The pipes hammered as the water shut off. I gritted my teeth and imagined what I’d like to do to shoddy contractors.
“Well, now that you mention it…,” Wren said, completely transparent.
“Who were you talking to last night?”
I cleaned my brush and dipped it in the fresh water. Then I loaded it with brown paint and started applying it to the heavy paper. The tree trunks and branches had to dry before I could add the foliage. And I had to shade and color the building itself before I did that. I also had to put the finishing touches on an interior watercolor, so it was going to be a long night.
I’d missed Wren’s question completely. “I’m sorry… what?”
“Who were you talking to last night?”
“A friend,” I said absently. “In California.”
“Aha! I knew it.”
I looked up and automatically moved my brush to the dirty paper towels.
(You learn things like that when you accidentally drip paint on an almost-finished watercolor because you aren’t paying attention. But I digress.)
“What’re you talking about?” I said.
“You were talking to Gina!”
“No.”
“Don’t try to hide it.”
“Wren, I wasn’t talking to Gina. Besides, why do you care if I was?”
“You know why. Christy’s really upset.”
“How is that my fault? Never mind. I know how.”
“Exactly. You were a real jerk to her.”
“Yeah, I know. I’d try to explain it to her, but I think it’d only make things worse.”
“Then maybe you can explain to me.”
I sighed and dropped my brush into the dirty water. I wasn’t going to get any more work done until I satisfied Wren, and not in the way I wanted. Still, I took my time cleaning the brush and putting away the watercolors. Then I wiped my hands on a rag and hung it from a hook on the side of my desk. I still needed a real drafting table, but it would have to go on the list with all the other things I wanted to do around the house.
Downstairs, Christy turned on the water.
“Ugh! Like finding those damn loose pipes and strapping them down!”
“Huh?”
“That knocking sound,” I explained. “Every time someone turns the water on or off.”
“I hardly even notice anymore.”
“Well I do. And I’ll bet Trip does too. Stuff like that bothers us.”
“What’s this have to do with you being a jerk to Christy?”
“Nothing,” I said. “It’s just one more thing on the list of things I can’t fix until I have some time… which I’m not going to get if I keep talking to you about my love life.” I flung myself into the easy chair and sulked.
“If you’d just give in to the inevitable,” Wren said with exaggerated sweetness, “then you’d have plenty of time.”
“Yeah, well…,” I said. “On that count, your nefarious plan is starting to work.” I waved at the door. “Might as well close that. I have a feeling this is going to get serious.”
She locked it for good measure. Then she sank into the other chair and crossed her legs. “It isn’t nefarious. My plan.”
“It is to me.” My lips twisted into a grimace. “Okay, maybe it isn’t,” I admitted. “But it really galls me to let you win.”
“You haven’t ‘let’ me do anything,” she muttered.
“And you know why? Because I don’t like you meddling with my life.
It’s my life, Wren. Not some recipe or pet project. It’s real people with real feelings.”
She deftly skewered my outrage. “Like Christy?”
“Yeah.” I fell back in the chair. “Like Christy.”
“Whose feelings you hurt?”
“Whose feelings I hurt,” I agreed.
“Why do you get so upset at her?” Wren asked in a much softer voice.
“You know church makes her happy.”
“The part that bugs me is where she feels guilty when she hasn’t done anything. Worse, it makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong. It’s like she’s saying, ‘You did this to me! It’s your fault!’”
“That isn’t what she means.”
“I know. But that’s how I feel.”
She nodded. “She really likes you, you know.”
“Yeah. I do. And I really like her.”
“I know.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Maybe not to everyone, but it is to me.”
“Does she know?”
“Uh-huh. That’s why it hurts her when you…”
“Behave like a complete and total jerk?”
“More or less.”
“How d’you think it makes me feel? I have to live with myself.”
“Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”
“Honestly? Till now it was because I didn’t want to admit it, even to myself.” I snorted a laugh. “You know that phone call last night? From the
‘friend’ in California?”
“What about it?”
“It really was a friend. Not Gina.”
“Then who?”
“You remember Sara and Daphne?”
“The strippers? Of course.”
I glared at her contempt. “Seriously? You too? You’re a swinger, for Christ’s sake! What moral high horse are you on?”
“Sorry! I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then how did you mean it? Think about it, Wren! Life’s hard enough as a woman sometimes. If she takes off her clothes for money, she’s a stripper or a whore. If a guy does it, he’s a fucking Chippendale! How’s that fair? A woman sleeps with more than one guy and she’s a slut. A guy does it and he’s a stud! Come on! I shouldn’t have to tell you this! You should know better!”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I took a deep breath. “No, I’m sorry. You aren’t the problem. It’s society.