“Sort of? Either he did or didn’t.”
“Does it really fucking matter?” I ask because I don’t think it does matter. We are so different. I meant what I said to him, we’d end up hating each other.
“Well,” she puts her glasses back in place, “I guess not.”
“Right.” We sit in silence for awhile with some indie rock music filtering through the car. “I mean could you imagine us together, it’d be ridiculous.”
“It would. Think about it, you’d have to get a ton of workout outfits and pretend you like to work out.”
“Why do we do that?”
“What? Buy cute outfits?”
“Change who we are for men,” I answer.
“Because we all want someone to love us, and we feel like if maybe we adapt to what they like, they will like us enough to see if they could love us?”
“It’s disgusting.”
“You’re one to talk Miss beige and beiger.”
She’s referring to my house in Atlanta and she’s right. I’m guilty of trying to mold myself into whatever I feel like a man wants me to be. They don’t ask us to do this. Why the fuck do we as women do this shit to ourselves?
“I’ll never do that again.”
“It’s like we’re programmed to be the ones to adapt. Bullshit,” she agrees, but doesn’t agree she won’t do it again.
“I hate that about myself,” I admit.
“I don’t mind a little bit of self exploration. Like, you like hockey? I’ve never been to a game, I’ll check it out. But, this shit like you like blondes? I will dye my hair tomorrow. Just no.”
“Bitches man,” I say.
“Bitches man.”
“Text him back. I tasted like chocolate peanut butter ice cream,” I say motioning at the phone.
“So are y’all going to, like, do long distance?”
“Nope, I’m going to be by myself and figure out what I’m doing before I even look at another man. My vagina is taking a break from the game.”
“Not a vagina time out?”
“A total time out. No penis allowed zone for at least five months.”
“No,” she gasps, mocking me.
“Fuck you fish taco, I will do it.”
I’m standing in the most amazing little villa nestled in the foothills of the mountains in Northern California. When I say I had to pick my jaw up off the floor when I saw it, I’m only exaggerating a little. This place is insane. The bellman clears his throat as we use our key to get in, a real key. We step to the side and he makes his way in. He’s talking, but I don’t listen because I’m just looking around like, I sure as hell don’t belong here. Laura is carrying her new handbag. She won three thousand dollars last night and bought it. The one she wanted.
“You can drop these bags in here,” Laura tells the bellman when she shows him into one of the rooms that she takes for her own.
“How much is this shit?” I think this, but then I say it out loud too.
Laura gives the bellman what looks like a twenty dollar bill, and he tells her thank you. Then he leaves.
“How much?” I repeat.
She looks up and to the right. “I don’t know, I’ll have to check.” Then she just stands there, looking out the two open back doors that have a view to make anyone jealous. The mountains grow behind the cottage into rolling hills with green foliage as far as the eye can see and it kisses the azure blue of the sky like long lost lovers.
“Check,” I suggest.
She walks to the couch where she drops her bag and starts digging through it.
“Lo, it’s fine, but I can tell we’re gonna need to make this a pretty short stay,” I say, walking to the balcony. I don’t know how much it is, but our stay will be more than my monthly mortgage payment back in Atlanta. “Holy shit, come look at this.”
Getting up, she stops beside me and brushes my shoulder with hers. “Well, I don’t want to see you taking a bath or a shower out here.”
There is seriously a soaking tub right there in the middle of the balcony, right next to an outdoor shower. “Okay, when my vagina gets back in the game, I’m coming here.”
“For real, that’s super sexy,” Laura agrees.
The balcony overlooks the mountain and is totally secluded. “Wow.” This is all I can come up with. I’m sure I’ll find out what I paid for this place, but I’m betting it’s worth it.
“Damn, I’m going to get spoiled, and then I’ll have to start paying for my own shit. What will I do?” Laura jokes.
“Fuck you,” I deadpan.
“I’ve set up a few tours for us to go on in the next couple of days.”
“What sort of tours?”
“Some wineries, houses. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to stay in one place for a while.”
“Yeah, I agree.” I walk into my room and shut the door. I’m feeling overwhelmed. We’re finally here, the end of this bizarre journey that has been a vacation from real life. Now what? I have no fucking idea. I guess I need to do some major soul searching.
So I haven’t been doing any soul searching because I’m currently too intoxicated to speak. Not only are my teeth numb, my lips are numb. My lips are tinged purple and the car Laura hired is dropping us off at the front of the hotel.
“Laura, seriously, my friend is renting two cottages on his olive farm up in Calistoga. It’s not far from here. You guys should look at it.” Brian, our driver, is talking, but I’m just trying not to vomit.
“Fuck yeah we’ll look at it, right Meg?”
“Stop calling me Meg, you know I hate that shit.” I climb out of the car. I’m pretty sure there’s no reason for me to climb out of the car except that I can’t really see what I’m doing.
“Thanks again Brian,” Laura says into the car, and she grabs my arm as we make our way to our maison.
“Why is my entire face numb and you’re still upright?” I can drink more than her, that’s just a fact.
“I was spitting some of the wine out. You’re supposed to do that dumbass.”
“Could you have told me that during the wine tours, not after I’ve consumed a keg?”
“I wanted you to get wasted so you would quit being such a dick. We’re going to find a place and you’re going to be fine. You’re like a bajillionaire.”
“I’m a millionaire, there’s no such thing as a bajillion dollars,” I slur. Then I hiccup. Oh fuck. That’s my sign. Do you guys have a sign to let you know you will be praying to the porcelain god? No? I do. I can have a numb face, but shit gets real when I start hiccupping. Laura and I exchange a look and we hustle up to the room. She knows as well as I do this is not good.
We barely make it into the room and I’m running with my hand over my mouth, trying not to vomit until I get to the bathroom. Laura’s bathroom is the closest and I vomit everywhere. I’m talking wall, toilet, floor. Everywhere.
“Aw, fucking gross,” Laura calls from the hall.
I don’t know about y’all, but I don’t want anyone in my shit while I’m throwing up. I slam the door on her.
I sink to my knees and throw up again, it looks like blood. Weird delusions scroll through my mind for a few minutes then I roll back to my ass and lean my head against the wall. I really need to get my shit together. That’s my last thought before I pass out.
I wake up a few hours later. There is a washcloth on my head and two towels under my head. My shoes have been removed, and Laura’s put a blanket on me too. See, my person. I stand up slowly and wipe my mouth with the washcloth.
No more drinking, ever. I need a break. I don’t know about you, but I hate to throw up. I crawl into the bed and under the sheets. I close my eyes and dream of ice cream, flashing lights, and water fountains.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Sometimes You Just Need
Your Sister
My sister flies in on our fourth day in this insanely gorgeous hotel. She barges in and looks around. “You’re fucking kidding me. This is c
razy.”
I jump up from the couch and run to where she’s standing in her couture outfit and six inch wedges. Laura stands behind us, having let Cari in.
“You did it,” I say into her ear, and I hug the shit out of her.
She leans back and looks at me. “You look like shit and did what?”
“You protected Jackson and you lost the last bit of baby weight.”
A smile spreads across her features. “I did,” she exclaims as she jumps up and down.
“I just realized how much I missed you,” I say.
“I’ve missed you for weeks while you two were off gallivanting across the United States.” She puts her handbag down on the table. “So, was it fun? You were successful in going off the grid after New Orleans.”
“We’re smart,” Laura responds.
“I’m parched and starving and need a shower.” Cari looks out on the balcony. “I’m not using that.”
“Please don’t,” I say. “You can use my shower. We can share my room while you’re here.”
“How long are you guys staying?” Cari asks as she moves toward the bathroom.
“Well, we were only going to stay for six days, but we haven’t found a place we like that isn’t too expensive,” Laura answers.
“You’re staying?” Cari stops walking and turns to face us. “And what do you mean isn’t too expensive?”
“The places here are crazy expensive,” I answer. “Like five grand a week rentals.”
Her mouth makes an O shape.
“We’re looking at more and Brian gave me an idea about renting a cottage on an olive farm that’s close to here.”
“A farm?” She glares at Laura. “And who is Brian?”
“You’ll get to see it with us, you’re staying for five days? Right?”
“Yes, it’s like my first vacation by myself since I’ve had Jackson.”
“Oh shit, I’m so glad I don’t have kids,” Laura comments. “I think I should just have us stay here until Cari flies back.”
“That’s fine with me,” Cari answers for me. Then she walks to the couch. “This is a fold out? I’ll sleep here.”
“So Cari, how was your flight?” I’m distracting her before she goes on some sort of tirade about kids and PTA.
“It was fine. It’s a long flight, I read a good book. It was a love story between a girl who escaped her life and a boy who didn’t talk. It was truly amazing. I’m probably going to download everything that author has ever written.”
“I’ve read that one. I don’t even like those sorts of love stories and I devoured that book. It was so good.” Laura looks at her iPad searching for something. “I think they’re making it into a movie.”
“So at one point I had to go to the bathroom, but there was a line. There was a girl in the bathroom and a guy standing there waiting. Then I looked up and there was no line, so I stood there waiting for my turn. I stood there for like ten minutes and when the door opened the dude and the girl came tumbling out.”
“Mile high club!” Laura cheers, hands in the air.
“I mean...how do you use the bathroom after that?” Cari asks.
“You hover, which you do anyway,” I answer.
“I’m as adventurous as the next person, but I don’t even understand how two people fit in one of those bathrooms.” Laura sits on the couch and pulls her computer on her lap.
“I know when I was hovering my knees almost hit the door. I don’t think logistically I could do it.”
“Well, I think the dude could sit on the toilet and the woman could sit on his lap,” I offer.
“That’s fucking gross. I don’t want to have sex on a toilet,” Laura says.
“What about the girl could be propped on the little sink and the dude would wedge himself in sideways.”
“I don’t want to do either of those. I mean I would not have fun cramped in a nasty bathroom with Jack getting off because you know there wouldn’t be time or the comfort level to have an orgasm.”
“I don’t know Cari, I think some people totally get off on the semi-public aspect of the act.”
“Well, I need to be totally comfortable to be pleasured,” she says.
“I hear you. I’d rather he just finger fuck me under a blanket, at least I’d get off and wouldn’t be fucking on a toilet.”
“Um, seriously Megan, finger fuck?” Laura chastises.
“Then I could either give him a blow job or hand job. We’d both get off and not have gotten some disease from having sex in a toilet. I mean why can’t people wait a few hours and fuck somewhere comfortable.”
“I think you guys are missing the point, people who fuck in planes are fucking because they are in a plane, not to have the best sex ever. I don’t know, I’ve never done it, but I don’t like situations where I don’t get off myself and I agree with Cari, it’d be very difficult to somehow not realize I’m where people take a shit and my vagina is exposed.”
“Let’s get drinks,” Cari suggests. “I need drinks for all these conversations.”
“We have wine and I made reservations at the restaurant here for tonight since you traveled all day. You’ll love it.” I walk toward my room. “Come in here and get a shower. I’ll bring your bags in when they come.” I hug her. “Thanks for coming, sis.”
“Thanks for buying lottery tickets for once in your life.” She laughs and looks around the room. “This is crazy. I can’t wait to tell Jack.”
“I know, it’s like my life isn’t my life anymore.”
“It’s yours and it can be so much more. I remember when you went to law school you were so adamant you were going to help people. I looked forward to what you were going to do. I was surprised when you came back to Atlanta and became a defense attorney for corporations. It didn’t seem like you.”
I blink at her.
“I mean I’m not saying…”
“No, you’re actually right.” I look out the window at the view of the lush greenery of the mountain. “I went to law school to become something and turned into something entirely different. I needed to be able to pay for my law school loans. I needed a job that paid a lot, now I don’t. I can help people. I want to help people.”
She hugs me. “I can’t wait to see what you do.” Then she turns and walks into my bathroom, shutting the cherry wood door behind her.
Sometimes you need family to remind you who you were before life got in the way, before logistics of paying bills and boys breaking your heart changed your direction.
Chapter Forty-Nine
No Blue Waffle for Me
Unbeknownst to me, Laura researched and made us appointments to get our vaginas checked out because of all the exercise they’d been getting. I mean we talked about it in Phoenix. I just hate going. She made the appointment after she looked up blue waffle online because one of her friends sent her the link. I will save you the trouble. Do not ever search blue waffle. You’re welcome.
“Come on you whore,” Laura calls into my bedroom from the kitchen.
Cari’s eyebrows raise at the accusation or as I like to call it a term of endearment.
“Relax,” I yell back. I pull on a tank top and slide my feet into some sandals. “All right, we’ll be right back, then we’ll hit that wine tasting.”
“Sounds good. I’m going to go hang by the pool. Come find me when you’re back.”
“Okay,” I agree and then signal for Laura I’m ready to go.
We get our car and Laura sets the GPS system to tell us where we need to go. Okay, let me tell you something about my former self. I hate doctors. I mean all people hate doctors, but I used to get so fucking irritated when I had to wait for hours in a doctor’s office for an appointment. I mean, why have an appointment. My life as an attorney was based on time. Do not waste my fucking time. I’ve been trying to get over this premise that underscored many things in my life, but it’s hard. I really hate a waste of time.
I pull into a parking lot of a quaint little office. W
e get out and walk into what looks like an old house. A friendly person signs us in, and I pull out my phone to read through emails.
I see an email from Justin and I’m about to read it when I hear my name being called.
“For real,” I say out loud. This would never happen in Atlanta. I follow the nurse behind the door. She’s a smiley thing and she makes me get on a scale. I almost pass out. I guess I hadn’t been on the scale since I left home. Good Lord at the weight I packed on in three months. I will need to be redeeming that shit pronto. I shake my head in shame.
I do all the things you do. I pee and then get naked with that stupid paper gown that opens in the front. I’m sitting there, all naked, when the door opens and a gorgeous man walks in.
NO! I scream in my mind. First of all I don’t do men OB/GYN doctors, I just don’t. I mean you can justify in your mind they see a ton of vaginas a day, but you still feel completely vulnerable and I want a doctor that has all my parts. I mean what’s a man know about a vagina, other than how to please it. At least they should know about that.
“Ms. Walker?” he asks as he’s reading my file. “So we are going to do an exam, and then we’ll call you in a few days and let you know the results.”
I nod. Mute by humiliation.
“Okay, so just lean back and scoot to the very edge of the table.” I close my eyes and do what I’m told. I hear the rolling of the stool to the end of the table.
“So this is your first visit, did you just move here?” He’s making small talk.
There’s no small talk when a man is staring at your vagina. That should be some sort of rule, somewhere. I nod. “What brings you to this part of California?”
Is this guy fucking kidding me right now?
“Job?” he continues.
I really don’t have an answer for this, so I just nod.
“Your partner’s?”
I feel a pinch of pain. “Excuse me,” I cough.
“Well, your partner called and made you both appointments…”
My mouth falls open, and I laugh so loud and hard I’m pretty sure everyone in this entire office can hear me. He sits in between my knees, the cold metal of the speculum still inside me. I can’t even see him. After a few minutes, he pulls the device out. Then he squirts jelly on his fingers and sticks them in me and tries to feel them through my stomach. You ladies know what I’m talking about. He rolls back, pulls his gloves off, stands then walks to the side of where I’m lying. He opens the front of my gown and starts the breast exam. At least his hands are warm, but I guess one should be because it’s just been in my vagina.
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