Why Girls Are Weird

by Pamela Ribon

  “It’s just, I…Kurt, we’re not together,” I said.

  “I know. I know we’re not together. I don’t need you to remind me. I told you to stop if you didn’t feel right about this.” He stood up. “We should stop.”

  “No,” I said, standing up and grabbing his hand. “I mean Ian and I aren’t together. I haven’t been telling you the truth.”

  “You mean you guys are on a break or something?” he asked.

  I took a breath, ready to explain everything, ready to lose everything just to have all of the confusion over, when he said, “I don’t want to know. I’m this guy you’re allowed to be with because you’re mad at him or you need attention or whatever the excuse is. You’re not with him right now and that makes this okay for you. I get it. Don’t justify it to me. I want you here. Please don’t say his name anymore. I want you. I don’t care about anything else. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. If you want me, tonight I want you.”

  He pulled me toward him again and moved his hand to my breast. He kissed my collarbone as he whispered into the skin of my neck, “And Chinese food makes me gassy.”

  We climbed into his bed. He was on top of me. Our bodies weren’t used to each other.

  “You’re on my hair,” I said.

  “Sorry,” he panted. He moved to the right. “Ow!” he yelped. “That’s my arm.”

  “Sorry,” I whispered, and moved my elbow.

  We both wiggled to fit our bodies into each other. He was tall, and when his hips moved against mine his head was well over me. I pulled myself up to kiss his neck, but I couldn’t reach his face anymore.

  “Hey,” I said quietly.

  He snapped his head down to kiss me and his chin hit the bridge of my nose. My eyes watered from the sting and he rolled off me, asking if I was okay.

  “I’m okay,” I said as I held my face in my hands. “Am I bleeding?” I held my head back for him to inspect.

  “No blood,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “You know, this is why dogs do it like they do. They get just as excited but do less physical damage to each other.”

  We started out slower and got better at it. By the time the night rolled around we were very, very good at it. We screamed over the sirens as ambulances passed. We talked and kissed and made love over and over. I had orgasms that made me blind. The arches of my feet were aching from having my toes clenched for so long. I kept craving more and more. I couldn’t believe myself. All of those quick fantasies I’d been having over strangers were surfacing and he’d answer my cravings instantly with complete satisfaction. He hit every aching spot inside of me. I couldn’t get enough of him.

  I don’t know when we fell asleep. I opened my eyes as the morning light crept into the room. He opened his eyes soon after. We stared at each other for a few seconds. We never said a word before we started kissing again, making love in the dim light, our bodies still aching from the night before. Quiet and hungry. Hushed and bittersweet. There were bruises and muscle cramps. My hips groaned at the weight of him, but I welcomed the pain. I wanted to feel him on me for weeks. I wanted him to leave a permanent mark.

  We were quiet in the morning, knowing that our time was running out. There wasn’t anything we could say to change the fact that I was about to fly very far away and he was going to stay here and what had happened between us was quickly coming to an end. My stomach felt hollow from the unexplored, the missing, the potential of us that might never be realized.

  As I walked into the living room I noticed for the first time a shelf full of Simpsons figurines. “Oh!” I involuntarily said.

  Kurt looked caught. “I didn’t know if you saw those before.”

  “No, I didn’t. Are they Heather’s?”

  “No, they’re mine.” He smiled.

  “Can you tell me that they are Heather’s so I can pretend you don’t have a shelf full of Homer dolls?” Collections creep me out a bit, frozen people on display like that, but that these were from The Simpsons was an extra warning sign. It was possible that Kurt was one of those people who compared every funny thing that ever happened to a Simpsons episode. He’d speak like Comic Book Guy when a restaurant got his order wrong. He’d quote Ralph Wiggum lines when he was confused. Simpsons fans are their own kind of breed. It’s like Star Trek except they think it’s cool. They don’t see the similarities.

  I figured I owed him a few lies and secrets.

  My insides were curling in regret as I reached the door of my rental. As the ambulances charged past us, screaming in urgency, Kurt held my head to his chest to guard my ears from the sirens. When the noise died down he kissed me and whispered, “Get out of my life.”

  “Everything is going to be okay,” I said. “Things aren’t exactly what you think they are. If you’d let me tell you.”

  “Don’t, Anna. Don’t say anything that’s going to hurt. Just stop talking and leave. Give me a few days, okay?”

  “But this is important,” I said.

  I wondered when I’d hear from him again. The romantic in me almost wanted to never see him again, have him be a one-time thing that got me over my self-esteem issues and helped me regain some confidence. A fling with a boy who showed me there were guys out there who could make me very happy. Just a boy in a city far away who was fated to spend one incredible night with me.

  “It can wait.” He kissed me one more time. “I don’t want this to turn sappy, so I’m going to go. Wait. First: I’ve never had as much fun with a woman in my life. And I have zits on my ass.”

  I tried again to speak, but stopped when I saw the tears in his eyes as he said, “Go.”

  I drove quickly, hating every mile that grew between us, smoking every cigarette I hadn’t thought to smoke while we were together. I made it to the airport with an unmistakable feeling overwhelming my body. It wasn’t until I boarded the plane that I could name that desire, that craving, that instinct he made me feel all over.

  I was thirsty.

  000059.

  Subject: My Pillow Smells Like You.

  A.-

  Thank you.

  You.

  Sweet, wonderful you.

  You’ve ruined my life. Forever.

  I cannot thank you enough.

  Now please go away so I can put my heart back together.

  I’m not a homewrecker. I never wanted to be. I refuse to be.

  Whatever you were going to say, I simply must say this first

  so there’s no more damage to our fragile bodies.

  I hate this, but it must be done.

  Go live your life with that man in Texas. I’ll live mine over here.

  Everything is complicated. I know. I hate how fucked up it all is.

  Good-bye, darling.

  Maybe someday we’ll meet again.

  God, I hope so.

  -K.

  -----

  Subject: Amusing

  Hello, Anna K.

  I’ve spent the entire day reading your webpage. I’ve read every single entry. I think you’re so talented. I’ve laughed my ass off when I was supposed to, and I was sad when I was supposed to be and…I’m gushing here. But I really enjoyed it and wish that you were published all over the place so I could brag to everyone that you’re my favorite author. Are you published? Because these essays should be published. Tell me where and I’ll go buy them. Write a book! Something! I need more!

  -Gretchen C.

  -----

  000060.

  When I got back to work on Tuesday, Smith didn’t meet me for our lunch break smoke. I walked down to the track bleachers, figuring she was already there. It wasn’t until after my smoke, when I turned to leave, that I heard a voice from above my head.

  “I’m fucking pissed at you, Miss.”

  She was sitting on the framework of the bleachers, her head crammed between two slats, her feet dangling near my head.

  “I wanted to kick you just now, but I’m too much of a pussy. Don’t tell
anyone.”

  The blood drained from my face and my fingers went numb when I realized I had missed Smith’s rally yesterday. I couldn’t believe I had done that.

  “Oh, shit, Smith. I’m so sorry.”

  She twisted herself over the bars of the bleachers and jumped down in front of me. Her eyes were red. “I don’t give a shit about the rally, okay? It sucks to find out that you’re not important. You’re so caught up in all your boy shit that you don’t look at anything. It’s fucking stupid.” She jammed her hands in her pockets and looked me straight in the eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again. My brain kept going over the past week, wondering how I had let this happen.

  “This was important to me,” she said. “It’s not like I think I’m your best friend or anything, but I deserve a bit of respect. Every day I have to hear you go on and on about Ian or Kurt or Dale or any of these boys keeping your head so busy. You don’t ask about my life unless I point the conversation to where you have no choice. I’m sick of it, Miss. If we’re not friends, then we’re not friends, and you can be my adviser and I’ll leave you alone. I don’t want to be the person you wait to stop talking so you can talk again.”

  “We are friends,” I said. “I like you so much, Smith. I’m really sorry.”

  “I like you, too. And I forgive you because I know you’ve been sad and you obviously got laid and that makes you happy and shit. But damn, Miss. I’m pissed you skipped out on the rally.”

  “You’re forgiving me? You’re a better person than I am.”

  “I know.” She wasn’t smiling.

  “So, how was it?” I asked.

  “It got shut down. I didn’t have an adviser.”

  She lit another cigarette as I apologized again. “Nobody showed?”

  “No, lots of people showed. So many that they made us break up the group before I could start talking because I didn’t have an adviser. It wasn’t sponsored.”

  “Can we do it again?” I asked. “Can you set one up for next week?”

  “No, Miss! It’s time for finals. And then we have winter break. I couldn’t have another rally until February, at least.”

  My brain was working quickly. I wanted to make it up to her. “Okay, then we’ll start working hardcore after winter break. We’ll get everyone in Action Grrlz ready for another rally and I’ll do everything this time.”

  She looked at me and popped her gum. “For real?”

  “For real,” I said. “It’ll be huge. We’ll just make it sound like the most important event of the year. Then, when everyone’s there, you stand up and you unleash Action Grrlz. You tell them what you’re about and you become the leader of the school’s most notorious group.”

  “Notorious. I like that word.”

  “It’ll be huge. Please let me make this up to you. I’m sorry I let you down.”

  “I’m gonna have to write another speech.” She smiled.

  000061.

  Subject: It’s Tess.

  Ian,

  I wasn’t going to write you back because I thought your last letter was inappropriate, but I thought you should know that when I was in Pittsburgh with Anna she told me she was going to see one of her old friends, but instead she saw some guy. I saw him pick her up. She didn’t come back to the hotel that night. She doesn’t know I know all of this. She probably thinks I’m some stupid kid and that I’m not worth her time. I’m not as dumb as she thinks I am. I’m sorry if this information hurts you, but I feel you have a right to know. I think Anna’s lying to lots of people, and I don’t really want to be her friend anymore. I bet she won’t even miss me.

  Let me know if you want to get together to talk about it. Also, tell me if there’s anything you need me to do. I’ll be here.

  Tess

  -----

  Dale’s eyes widened as he read the printout. “Wow, she’s pissed.”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “She was too young for you anyway, Anna. And I was jealous you went on a vacation with her instead of me.”

  We were Christmas shopping at Toy Joy, a tiny toy store on the university campus. I was digging through a basket of plastic fish, looking for an orange one to stuff in Meredith’s stocking. We’ve always called her “Fish Face” because she gives the worst kisses. She puckers up all huge and it’s wet and she loves to do it and we are incredibly grossed out by it. Meredith will make the perfect old lady someday.

  “We shouldn’t have sent that e-mail to her.”

  “Write a nasty entry about her, hinting you know she told Ian. That’ll scare the crap out of her and hopefully she’ll be gone for good. That’s what I’d do. I can’t believe she was hitting on him in her letter. I mean, call her if he wants to talk?”

  “Yeah, I noticed that, too.”

  “What a skank. I can’t wait until you’re a famous writer and we don’t have to deal with these losers anymore.”

  “Dale, if you keep talking about it like that it’s only going to hurt more when they reject me.”

  I shouldn’t have told Dale that I had sent some of my journal entries to a few magazines. I wanted to see what would happen. Probably nothing. Dale thinks The New Yorker will pick one up for the Fiction section. I can’t imagine, but it’s still a pretty good fantasy. Who knows? I never thought the webpage would be as popular as it was, and it wasn’t as if I was a complete nobody. I had just spoken at a conference. I was a confirmed writer.

  “You’re grumpy. Internet boy?”

  “Still not talking to me.”

  “By ‘talking,’ you mean on the Internet, right?”

  I looked up at him. “Yes. What are you getting at?”

  “I wanted to remind you that you don’t actually talk to any of these people.”

  “Well, I did a lot more than talk to that boy two weeks ago.”

  “You know there’s no difference between this guy and Tess, right? They both want to wreck your relationships and have you all to themselves. It’s just that one is a better lay.”

  “Well, as far as I know. Tess might be great in bed.”

  “She’d jump at the chance.”

  “How did this become my life?” I wailed at the ceiling.

  “What did you send him for Christmas?” he asked.

  “What makes you think I sent him something?”

  “Because you’re not in Pittsburgh right now standing outside his apartment holding a boom box in the air blasting Peter Gabriel.”

  “I sent him some paintbrushes, okay?” I didn’t know anything about paintbrushes, but I hoped they were the right ones. The art store salesman said they were the most expensive. I hoped that also meant they were the best.

  “And?”

  “And a CD.”

  Kurt wasn’t returning my e-mail. I got his number from Directory Assistance, but when I called his house, I got his machine.

  “What CD?” Dale asked.

  “A mix.”

  The nagging feeling that Heather might not have been out of the picture wouldn’t leave me. Maybe that was why he asked for space so easily without finding out what I was trying to tell him. He must have known that if I came clean, he’d have to as well.

  “What’s the first track on the mix?”

  “Our song,” I answered.

  “Which is?”

  “Air Supply. ‘All Out of Love.’”

  “Why?”

  “It was on in the bar the day we met. Pathetic.”

  “I love it.”

  “Oh, I know.”

  It wasn’t like I was about to move to Pittsburgh, and I wasn’t about to ask him to move to Austin, so what did I want from him? The long-distance thing was too hard. It’s painful and expensive and feeds on paranoia, insecurity, and loneliness. Half the time I’d be wondering if our relationship was working because we were perfect for each other or if it only worked because it was convenient.

  “Does he know that’s your song?” Dale asked.

  “No.”

&nbs
p; “I love it even more.” He held up a punching nun puppet. “Buy me this,” he said.

  “No. You’ll bring it to the dinner table and I’ll never hear the end of it from my mother.”

  “I’m excited she’s coming for Christmas. It’s nice when everyone comes to you.”

  “I’m just excited you’re making Christmas dinner. There’s no pressure on my end anymore.”

  Dale put on a pair of X-ray glasses and said, “I’d like to remind you that I’m not cooking the dinner at all. Jason’s the cook. I’m the eater.” He grabbed a Santa Claus puppet down from a shelf. “You know, by sending him things you’re violating his request for space.”

  “I know.”

  “So what else did you send him, Stalker?”

  “A picture of myself.”

  “So he can paint a new picture of you?” Dale asked.

  “Kinda.”

  “Wow.”

  “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “And I suppose you’re going to write him some kind of sappy entry that’s just a big ol’ message about how you might have fallen in love with him, right?”

  “Want to write it for me?”

  “Not if you paid me.” Dale held the Santa puppet out in front of him. “Dear Mister Santa. I need a new ass this year. The one I’ve got’s getting kinda fat.”

  000062.

  It’s Who You Know

  (There’s Always More)

  22 DECEMBER

  You meet someone…

  And even though you just met, you feel this history, a sense of belonging, and a sense of togetherness that you don’t usually have with people. Maybe you can talk to her for hours, forgetting the time. Maybe you talk despite the time. The two of you laugh and order another drink and end up late for everything. The time you spend together is worth any amount of inconvenience later.