Undiscovered Gyrl: The novel that inspired the movie ASK ME ANYTHING (Vintage Contemporaries)

by Allison Burnett

  I don’t know whether I should call him and apologize or just let him go. If I let him go he will tell everybody what a self-centered bitch I am. If I apologize but don’t really mean it, he will end up hating me even more. So I should only call him if I am sure that I really want to be his friend.

  The funny thing is even though he says he is the only straight guy in the world who doesn’t want to bone me, I don’t believe him. I think he totally wants to have sex with me. I know that sounds conceited but, come on, can’t you sense it from his letter? No guy gets that upset by the behavior of a female friend unless deep down he wants to bone her. I need to think this over. Even though he is an intelligent and honest friend and a great listener, do I really want someone in my life who is so needy?

  Friday, February 29, 2008

  Today is Leap Year, which only comes around once every seven years. Paul informed me that it is also an old holiday known as Sadie Hawkins Day. This is the day when women are allowed to propose to men. So when Paul was going down on me this afternoon I whispered “Will you marry me?” He laughed so hard he almost choked.

  I heart making Paul laugh.

  Saturday, March 1, 2008

  This evening my mom and Mark were planning their wedding on the dining room table with all of their assembled materials spread out before them. Even though I am dreading the event they looked so happy doing it I decided to join in. I sat down and started looking at the sample invitations and the brochures for ballrooms and the photos of wedding cakes. It was okay for a while. Mark was being the least cynical I have ever seen him and my mom was like a little giggling girl. When Mark got up and went to the kitchen and came back with a cold beer for me, I was blown away. It had been a while. It tastes so much better when you don’t have to steal it!

  The whole time we were looking over the materials, the big discussion was the date for the wedding. What was the perfect day? We narrowed it down and voted on three choices. June 21 won 3-0. I thought “Hey, that was easy. Maybe we’ll become sort of a family now.” But then out of nowhere, Mark says something about how the only awkward part of the transition will be where I will sleep in the eight weeks between the wedding and when I leave for college.

  I was like “Excuse me?” and that’s when they told me that they had decided to sell our house, so that right after the ceremony my mom can move straight into Mark’s condo. I was in shock. I have been to his condo. It has three bedrooms, and one of them is a home office and the other is a den with an exercise bike. And even if it had ten bedrooms, so what? I love our house!

  I completely freaked out. Where was I going to stay when I come home from college? Where was I going to store all my stuff? What if I want to defer again? Where will I live? I was so disgusted I didn’t even speak. I just got up, went to the kitchen, stole two of Mark’s beers and escaped to my room. I slammed the door as loudly as possible.

  Right now my mom is outside begging me to talk to her. “Sweetheart! Please open up. We need to discuss this! Please!”

  I can’t decide what cruel thing to scream back. Either “I have a better idea. Go discuss my upcoming suicide with your ugly boyfriend!” or “We don’t need anything. You need to haul your big fat ass to bed!”

  Oh, well, just lost my chance. She stomped away. She said she can’t wait until I start college and get the hell out of her life for a while. Feeling’s mutual, bitch!

  Sunday, March 2, 2008

  Today would have been my father’s 55th birthday. If I was a better person I would spend the day with Affie. She called me this week three times but I never called her back. I’m sure it was to invite me over for a memorial dinner. She must be very lonely. But I just can’t bear to eat her freaky food and listen to her talk about my dad like he was a combination of George Clooney and Jesus Christ.

  I would love to call Paul and tell him about my mom selling our house. I think he will understand my feelings of profound rejection. I will have no real home. No center. When I come home for Christmas break I will be sleeping on the floor of a home office. I know Paul will give me great advice. I wish I could call him now but of course I can’t.

  FYI: I also can’t call Dan (dumped me) or Rory (hates me again) or Glenn A. Warburg (possible rapist) or Jade (resident evil) or fat Merci (a bore to the core) or Joel (thinks I am resident evil) or Dr. Sherman (thinks I’m seeing a new shrink). No wonder I can’t stop crying.

  LATER: 8:23 p.m.

  I got a nice email from Mglove007 who says the reason why I cannot stop crying is not because my mom is selling the house. It’s because today is my father’s birthday and I am having a delayed reaction to his tragic death. She is probably right. Thanks for writing, gyrlfriend. You are a peach.

  Filyboyz6 sent me an article about a 90-year-old scientist who says global warming is going to get worse and worse much more quickly than anyone thinks. Within 20 years there will be abnormal weather all the time and within 30 Europe will be the Sahara desert. And there’s nothing we can do about it! So basically we might as well relax and have fun. Reading this makes me want to have sex with Paul 24/7. Who cares about right and wrong when we’re all going to fry? I bet this is not the reaction the scientist wanted!

  Friday, March 7, 2008

  Sorry I haven’t written all week but I have been too happy. It’s been absolutely glorious. This is Paul’s word. Can you tell? When he paid me tonight he whispered “Wasn’t this week glorious?” I whispered back like Katherine Hepburn “Yes, dahling, perfectly glorious!” and he cracked up. I make him laugh all the time. I don’t think I have ever been this funny. I’ve been discovered!

  I did not even care that Hillary Clinton won some states on mini Super Tuesday. Paul was really angry about it because it means we’re going to have to tolerate her dirty campaign for weeks and weeks to come but I could care less. If I can be naked with Paul every day I don’t care if Hitler is president.

  Did I really just write that? Hahaha!

  Saturday, March 8, 2008

  Tons of snow. I am a bored harlot. Even though I am typing right now, deep inside I am sitting on the telephone waiting for it to hatch. Paul said if he could manage to grab a few minutes alone he would call me this weekend. In eight minutes the clock springs ahead one hour. One hour closer to Monday morning when I will be in his arms again.

  Sunday, March 9, 2008

  All cozy this morning with the world covered in white, I started thinking about what it means to be a good person. Am I a bad person for having sex with a married man or is it just my action that is bad? If I died today and there was really such a thing as Elysium, would I go there or would I end up in Greek hell? I think the answer is pretty obvious. Better pack the ole sunscreen, Katie!

  So far there has only been one negative moment with Paul. It’s probably nothing but I want to mention it just in case. Wednesday we were lying naked on a beach towel spread over one of the guest room beds and I said “Let’s move to a farm and make babies.” He laughed and said “But I already have a baby. Wait, come to think of it, I have two!” He started tickling me like I was a little girl. I laughed but I thought it was a pretty disrespectful way to treat me. That’s it. The only negative moment. Not bad considering with Rory there was a negative moment every five minutes.

  Monday, March 10, 2008

  Today I told Paul about my mom selling our house. I’m not sure why it took me so long. Maybe because I don’t want to bore him with my juvenile problems. Anyway he was so sympathetic about it that I told him about Mr. Silaggi too. The whole time I talked he just kept shaking his head and saying “You poor thing. You poor thing.” I also told him that Dr. Sherman wanted me to write a letter to Mr. Silaggi even if I never send it. Paul said that sounded like an excellent idea, that he was proud of me for doing it and that he would like to read it when I’m finished. Does this mean I actually have to write it now? Shit.

  Margaret’s job finishes in ten days. She will then go back to being a full-time mom. It will be almost impossible for Pa
ul and me to be alone unless we meet at a motel. Or if he’s brave enough to risk it, at my house when my mom’s at work. Even though I am an atheist I pray Margaret gets another job soon. If god actually does exist I doubt he will answer an immoral prayer like that. Which means I might have to kill her! LOL!

  Tuesday, March 11, 2008

  All day my throat hurt and my nose was runny but I pretended I was fine because I knew if Paul knew I had a cold, he would make me go home to protect Cole. Somehow I made it through the day but now I am really ill. Fever and aches. Just took a ton of vitamin C. I must wake up feeling better. I can’t miss work!

  I was just joking about murdering Margaret. I can’t believe how touchy and stupid some of you guys are. Lighten up, yo.

  Wednesday, March 12, 2008

  Woke up with a 102.7 fever. Head full of boogers. Coughing up chunks of lung. My mom had to call Paul and tell him I wouldn’t be coming in today. How weird was that? I think I would die of nervousness if those two ever met. They are only four years apart.

  The governor of New York resigned today on TV because he had sex with a whore. I kept watching his wife’s face. She reminds me in many ways of Margaret. Very classy and strong. What would Margaret do if she found out about me and Paul? Would she stand by her man, all sad faced and loyal with bowed head, or would she divorce his cheating ass so I could have him all to myself? Only one way to find out. Make sure she catches us. Which won’t be easy. Margaret is so type A she never comes home unexpectedly. She always calls first. Paul says she is “the Anti-Surprise.” (Get it? Like the Anti-Christ. Ha!) He says this is the main reason their sex life has never been good. She is not spontaneous like I am. I always say yes.

  Wouldn’t it be amazing if the Spooners got divorced? Even though it would be hard on Cole psychologically, it’s not as hard as having your unhappy dad making love to your nanny every time you take a nap, is it? Cole is so young he would barely notice the divorce at this age, I think. He wouldn’t be like me who grabbed my dad’s leg and had to be dragged across the snowy yard before I let go. I wonder how they would divide up the custody.

  I am fantasizing way too much.

  My nose just dripped on my keyboard. Yuck.

  Thursday, March 13, 2008

  During the tiny bits of fever-sleep I had last night, I had the freakiest dreams involving boys I haven’t seen or thought of since third grade. The brain is quite a mysterious organ.

  Phone ringing. Somebody loves me. Stand by.

  It was Margaret saying “Get well soon.” Rather than hire a temp nanny during my illness, she decided to only work half days at her job. It’s almost finished anyway. I hope spending more time together doesn’t make the Spooners fall back in love. She put Paul on for a few seconds, but all he said was “Hurry back, kiddo! We miss you!” He’s an excellent actor.

  My mom is being super-nice to me, bringing me chicken soup, ice water and vitamins. She even rubbed my feet last night. It’s not just because I’m sick. It’s also because she feels guilty for selling our house and destroying my feeling of security.

  I would never tell her this but it’s fun to be babied by her. It brings back memories of the days before I started disappointing her every ten seconds.

  Friday, March 14, 2008

  I was so much sicker today my mom took me to the doctor. It turns out my flu (which is all over the country now except Florida, and has killed some kids) has turned into bronchitis. I’m on antibiotics now. I hope they work. I’m miserable and lonely.

  The stock market is really fucked. I hope Paul doesn’t lose too much money. Or he won’t he able to afford a good divorce lawyer. Hahaha! Coughcoughcough! Boohoohoo!

  Saturday, March 15, 2008

  I am finally feeling better and guess what? My hormones are raging. Isn’t that wonderful? Aren’t I a lucky gyrl? My body, I swear. How can something so beautiful be such a curse?

  A humongous crane fell in NYC and crushed a whole apartment building. Can you imagine? You’re lying in bed, thinking your life is pretty awesome then a crane comes through your ceiling and smooshes you like a bug? When you think of all the ways your life can end, it’s pretty much a miracle we even bother to brush our teeth. Come to think of it, I haven’t since yesterday morning!

  Sunday, March 16, 2008

  I feel so much better today. No aches, no chills, just a slight cough and some cramps. I wonder when I can go back to smoking full-time. Since I’ve been ill I’ve only had two or three a day and it’s driving me insane. It feels like ants are crawling in the back of my throat. I am going to call Paul right now and tell him I’m coming back to work tomorrow.

  Stand by.

  • • •

  Paul yelled the news to Margaret and she yelled back “Hallelujah!”

  Monday, March 17, 2008

  Two seconds after Cole fell asleep, Paul and I started kissing. We didn’t even make it to the guest room. We made love on the hallway floor. It was incredibly hot. When it was over I told him my period is coming any minute so we’d better do it as much as we can while we still have the chance.

  “Not a problem,” he said.

  I didn’t even know how much I missed Paul until I was in his arms again. His mouth, his smell, his touch. I think he’s falling in love with me too. He never stops smiling.

  Tonight my mom celebrated St. Patrick’s Day by serving her world-famous corned beef and cabbage (which I hate) and a six-pack of yummy Irish ale. We drank two ales each and pretty soon Mark started talking in an Irish accent. I couldn’t stop laughing. He thought it was because he was so darned funny but actually I was laughing at him. And the harder I laughed the more Irish he acted. Imagine a frog-faced man with no neck, a big belly and a green ski sweater bouncing around in his chair twirling his mustache and doing the worst Irish accent, while thinking he’s adorable. That’s why I almost had a heart attack. I cannot believe my mother would destroy our cozy life for a man this insipid.

  My mother has decided that the answer to the difficult question “What to do with Katie?” is that from the time the house is sold until I go to college (she hopes), I will sleep on a fancy inflatable mattress in Mark’s den. She has heard they’re really comfortable.

  I replied “Or you could just find me a refrigerator box.” That’s honestly how I feel. Homeless. She is such a typical middle-aged woman. They talk all feminist and independent but as soon as a man walks into their lives, they drop everything. Even their kids.

  Tuesday, March 18, 2008

  Paul and I watched Barack Obama’s speech about racism. It was amazing. Near the end I thought Paul had caught my cough, but I looked over and he was crying. I don’t think I have ever seen a grown man cry before except on TV and movies. Paul has a beautiful soul.

  Later I asked Paul why he cried and he said because it was the greatest speech ever delivered by an American politician, even greater than the great speeches of Martin Luther King, because it was in prose not poetry, and it is much harder to move people with prose. He said that in a perfect world Obama would be president until the end of time. Wow. Considering he works with money all day and used to be a Republican, that’s a pretty big deal for him to say about a Democrat. Wait, wait, this is a bitter truth, but I forget which number: Every human being is a paradox.

  Speaking of which, one weird moment today reminded me of when Paul called me his baby and tickled me. We were making love and he reached down, hooked me by the knee and turned me over. Right as my face touched the towel he said “Usually I don’t believe in tummy time. But in this case I’ll make an exception.” I know it was just a joke but isn’t it disrespectful to talk about your lover like she’s your baby? Or am I being oversensitive because of hormones?

  Dan and I were watching a film once called Women in Love based on the controversial feminist novel by D.H. Lawrence, and he said “Women love romance. Men love pornography.” What if this is true of me and Paul? What if I am having a romance and he’s having a porno? Wouldn’t that be tragic? I
would be so humiliated.

  Thursday, March 20, 2008

  I haven’t told anyone. I will tell you. My period still hasn’t come yet. What’s scaring the shit out of me is that I just called Merci Gregoris who had an abortion senior year and I asked what it felt like to be pregnant and she said “It feels like a period that never comes.” That’s exactly how I feel. I feel weird and crampy and my boobs are sore but it can’t be normal PMS because I am not crying for no reason. AAARRRGGHH!

  First day of spring.