Needless to say, Austin was having a really hard time getting into a good position in such a cramped space. I reached up to unzip his pants as he lifted his shirt over his head. He banged his elbow on the roof.
“Ouch! That’s my throwing arm,” he cried as he rubbed it.
“Why are you taking your shirt off?” I asked as I attempted to shimmy out of my skinny jeans. How the hell did he get these off before without me noticing?
Austin stared at me blankly. “Well, I thought we were having sex?”
“You don’t need your shirt off to have sex,” I informed him matter-of-factly.
He paused, mid struggle. “You don’t?”
Oh my God, was he for real? As good looking as he was, Austin sometimes stunned me with his stupidity.
“Of course not. You only need to take your pants off.” And even that wasn’t always necessary, I thought, recalling the time Simon and I actually accomplished Number One on his list…
We were getting ready for our trip to Italy and Simon announced that I could not go to such a fancy place in my old underwear. He marched me to Violet’s Blush, began ripping items out of the drawers and piling them into my arms. The sales girl, who was on high alert, came dashing over to us.
“Can I help you?” She tucked her poorly dyed blonde hair behind her ear and shot us a snotty glare.
Simon turned to her and with a flick of his wrist, Gay Simon came out to play. “No thank you,” he lisped. He looked down at her with disdain. “I am a professional. I am her professional shopper. You can just run along over that way and help that poor dear.” He motioned toward the extremely overweight woman perusing the rack of bikinis. The sales girl gasped in shock and hurried over to save the bikini material from being stretched past its limit.
“You are so bad, Simon. Now she thinks you’re gay,” I giggled.
“Exactly,” Simon replied as he took my arm and led me toward the dressing room.
“Simon! What are you doing? You can’t go in there!”
“You’ll see,” he replied with a wink. "Remember number one on my list?"
“Simon! No! We can’t,” I hissed. "The sales girl..."
“She thinks I’m your gay personal shopper,” Simon reminded me with a devilish grin on his face. He swung open the dressing room door and stepped aside so that I could enter.
“My God, Simon, if we get caught, I swear...”
“Relax, love. It’s going to be fine,” Simon assured me as he shut the dressing room door with his foot.
And it was fine. It was more than fine. It was more than fine at least three times...
“Elizabeth!” Damn it. Austin again.
“What?” I asked, feeling his breath against my neck. I really need to start paying attention here.
“Are you even listening to me, Elizabeth?” Austin asked as he sat up, hitting his head on the roof.
I rubbed my hands on his chest. “Of course I am. Listening, feeling, touching...”
I tried to focus solely on Austin as we bumped around unsuccessfully in the back of his car for a few minutes. My zipper got stuck on his underwear and when we finally freed that, I smashed my foot into the door handle trying to get my jeans off.
“Listen,” Austin interjected. “This isn’t working. I don’t think I can do this.”
“Oh, no, no,” I stammered, attempting to pull him back. “You cannot just get me all hot and bothered and then just leave me hanging, Si…er, Austin.”
Austin pulled his hoodie back on. “Another night. I’m tired and you’re off in la la land somewhere. And this damn car is too small. I need a bigger car.” The effect of the alcohol was obviously starting to wear off.
I sat up and struggled to pull my pants back on. Stupid skinny jeans. They’re definitely not “slightly pudgy jeans”. “But what about the hotel? And the whipped cream?”
Austin shook his head. “I’m just not feeling it now.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”
“I was looking forward to it,” I said, hoping my voice was full of conviction. Actually, between the thoughts of Simon and trying to do it in the back of the clown car, it had not been the ideal situation.
Austin smiled sadly. “I’ll make it up to you. I’m sorry. This is just too weird and I’m having a hard time...” He glanced down at his crotch. “Kind of having a hard time...down there.”
Great. Now not only can’t get my jeans back on, I can’t get him up. I snuck a peek at my love handles. I’m getting fat. I knew it. No more wine or margaritas with Nora. Then I reconsidered. Well, a glass of red wine is supposed to be good for you. I should have that. I’ll just cut out the margaritas. And maybe the Mexican food. And maybe I’ll even jog a little tomorrow. Nah, scratch that. I don’t want to jog. I’m not that fat yet.
I sulked as I tugged at my jeans some more. “Okay then. I guess there’s no need for me here. I’ll go home.” I zipped up my stubborn pants and stuck my bottom lip out in a pout. I could at least pretend to mope. I didn’t know how effective it would be though, because I have really small lips and the pouty look doesn’t really work on me.
Austin leaned against the backseat. “Aww, Lizzie! Don’t take it personally. It has nothing to do with you, babe.”
I turned my head so fast that I nearly got whiplash. “What did you call me?” I asked in an accusatory tone.
Austin looked perplexed. “Babe?” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I thought I’ve called you babe before. If you don’t like it, I’ll never call you that again.”
I shook my head. “No. Babe is fine. I mean before that.”
Austin scratched his head. “Lizzie?”
I clapped my hands together. “Yes! Lizzie!” I glared at him. “Don’t ever call me Lizzie.”
“Uh, ok,” Austin replied with a frown. “What’s wrong with Lizzie, though? It sounds cute. Maybe I want to call you my little Dizzy Lizzie.” He grinned at me with teasing in his eyes.
Ok, this is the perfect segue into the topic of your ex-husband. You don’t have to tell Austin that he’s staying at the apartment just yet. Ease into it. Go ahead, open your mouth and tell him about Simon. Tell him Simon used to call you Lizzie. And then he’ll say, ‘who’s Simon?’ And then it’ll be so easy to take it from there.
“Um, it’s just someone...” I twisted the hem of my tunic, “…someone that I detest used to call me Lizzie.”
You coward. Tell him who!
“Sorry. I will make a mental note. Never call the woman I love, Lizzie.”
Oh my...did he just say he loved me? For a moment, I thought my heart would explode. I nestled into the crook of his arm. “It’s okay. You are definitely forgiven.”
I closed my eyes as I thought to myself, And you, Elizabeth, are definitely in trouble.
Five
I could hear Nora yelling through the dressing room door. “Okay. Let me get this straight. Austin came over last night and you guys had sex on the couch while Simon was hiding in your bedroom.”
“And then in the closet,” I cut in as I pulled my shirt over my head.
“You had sex in the closet?”
“No, no! Simon was in the closet.”
Nora snorted. “I have suspected that for many years.”
“Oh, Nora, could you stop your relentless distaste for Simon for one second?” I may have hated my ex-husband, but Nora hated him that much more.
She ignored my question and continued to rant. “So Simon was in the apartment while you were having sex, you left the apartment to go to a hotel, with the intention of having more sex there, and ended up doing it in the car?”
“We didn’t finish in the car,” I explained. “Austin had an issue.” I stepped into the green sequined dress and attempted to pull it over my wide hips.
“That’s no big deal. Happens to guys all the time,” Nora pointed out. “Well at least, that’s what I tell them when they lament about it on my therapy couch.” She gave a sinister little laugh.
“It’s probably me. Dam
n, this is tight, Nor." I struggled with the flimsy fabric, trying not to rip it. Maybe I was supposed to pull it over my head? Wasn’t that the way to put on a strapless dress? I had no idea. The last formal dress I bought was for my wedding to Simon. Nope! Do not think about him! He messed up your date last night, don’t let him in your head today.
“Suck in your gut,” Nora called through the door.
“I am sucking it in,” I replied as I got the dress up to my armpits. “Okay, I got it up.”
“You got it up, but Austin didn’t,” Nora cackled evilly.
“That’s really in poor taste, Nora.”
“Oh please,” Nora scoffed. “You want to talk about poor taste? Not telling your boyfriend that you have an ex-husband stashed in you apartment is in really poor taste.” She paused before asking, “Are you coming out or what?”
I chewed on my bottom lip as I opened the dressing room door. “It just never seems like the right moment to tell him, I guess.”
Nora brightened when I stepped out from behind the door. “Ooo, I like the dress.” Then, she frowned. “I don’t like the excuses though. You can’t get through the rest of your life without telling Austin about Simon. It’s not fair to either of you.”
I turned around and inhaled sharply so Nora could zip me up. She struggled with the zipper for a second, and then succeeded in collapsing all the air from my lungs with a single zip.
“Who knows? After last night, Austin may be ready to dump me. I obviously can’t turn him on anymore,” I gasped, turning around to face my friend. “You don’t think it makes me look fat?”
Nora rolled her big brown eyes. “For the bazillionth time, you are not fat, Elizabeth. You look good. Strike that. You look hot, sexy, and glamorous. Austin is lucky to have you. He’s not going to dump you because he couldn’t get it up. Plus, what guy is going to ask you to come to his sister’s wedding with him if he isn’t even serious about her?”
“It’s not his sister. It’s his cousin. Austin is an only child,” I reminded her. “He did tell me that he loved me last night,” I said, a smile creeping onto my face.
Nora clapped her hands together excitedly. “He did? That’s excellent! Did you tell him you loved him?”
I grimaced slightly. “Well, no…”
Nora smacked her forehead. “Seriously? Are you really that dense? Do you need me to watch on a video monitor and whisper what you’re supposed to say in an earpiece like Cyrano de Bergerac?”
“I highly doubt that Cyrano de Bergerac had a video monitor.”
Nora ignored me as she unzipped my dress and I let out a long exhale. “Why didn’t you tell him you love him?” She gasped sharply. “Oh God. It’s not because of Simon, is it?”
“For God’s sakes, no! This has nothing to do with Simon.” I headed back into the dressing room to try on dress number two.
“I hope you’re not letting him get into your head! That’s dangerous!” Nora called after me.
Does she have ESP? I wriggled to get the dress over my hips again. I definitely should have tried to take it off over my head. It was too late—I was now stuck in the dress. I tugged at the material fruitlessly as Nora continued her usual anti-Simon litany. “He has screwed up enough in your life. Don’t let him screw this up between you and Austin!”
“It has nothing to do with Simon!” I huffed, finally able to step out of the sequined nightmare.
“Okay, then why couldn’t you tell your very hot and loving boyfriend that you loved him last night when he said it first? I told you never to say it first because you don’t want to seem needy, but he obviously wants you because he said it first.” I could almost hear her smirking.
Thrilled to be free from the confines of the circulation stopping dress, I examined my naked body in the mirror. I don’t care what Nora says. My hips are definitely broader than they used to be. I turned around to study my backside. And my ass is unquestionably spreading. And not in a good way. I was on the cusp of my thirtieth birthday and I had a fat ass, no job, and an ex-husband living in my apartment. Yeah, I was quite the catch. Okay, maybe I had a few more years till thirty, but still. Who in their right mind would want me? If Austin was smart, he would run for his life.
I reached for the sapphire blue dress on the hanger. This was my choice to try on, the first dress was Nora’s choice. The loose material sailed over my body with ease as I replied, “Well, he didn’t exactly say I love you.”
Nora sighed loudly on the other side of the door. “Okay then. What did he say exactly?”
“Um, I can’t remember the exact words. But it was along the lines of you’re the woman I love,” I answered as I zipped the dress up all by myself.
“Isn’t that the same thing?” Nora asked when I stepped out of the dressing room again.
“Well, I thought it was, but I was afraid to say it in case it wasn’t. I’ve been out of this game for a while. I don’t know the proper thing to say.” I twirled around making the dress’s flowing bottom swirl upward—I really liked it much better than the first dress. "”What do you think?”
“I like the other one,” Nora told me with a look of disdain. “This one is too loose and frumpy. And you’ve been divorced for almost two years, so you have nobody to blame but yourself for your lack of experience. I told you that you really needed to get back out there right away.”
“I couldn’t breathe in the other one,” I interrupted Nora’s rant with protest.
“Breathing is overrated. Beauty is pain, my dear,” Nora explained, shooing me away. “Get the other one.”
“You’re not the one who has to wear it all day,” I whined, stepping back into the dressing room.
“You’re not ninety either,” Nora snapped back.
“Oh please! I hardly look ninety.”
"”I think my grandmother has the same dress hanging in her closet,” Nora called through the door.
“Your grandmother is dead!” I shouted back as I squirmed out of the dress.
“Exactly my point!” Nora replied triumphantly.
Grumbling, I changed back into my clothes. As always, Nora would get her way. I don’t know why I ever bothered to argue with her. She always had the last word, and I always ended up doing what she instructed me to do in the long run. Except going to the gym. That I was proudly refusing to do.
When I was fully dressed in my street clothes, I opened the door and Nora was standing there with her hands on her perfectly trim and shapely hips. I’ve never met anyone as perfectly proportioned as Nora. I would say it was effortless except I knew how much time she spent at the gym.
“Come on, Elizabeth. You’re young and beautiful and you have a good-looking, athletic guy by your side. Show him you want him. Wear the dress. You won’t regret it.”
I sighed as I gathered up the discarded dresses. “I’m going to regret it when I have to be rushed to the emergency room to have it surgically removed from my body,” I grumbled as I handed Nora the “old lady” dress.
She beamed at me. “Now that’s the spirit!” She tossed the dress onto the returns rack. “You know, you can always join me at the—”
“Say gym and I’ll get the other dress,” I threatened as we strolled over to the cashier.
She held her hands up. “I’m not saying anything! You’re the one who is constantly complaining about yourself.”
“And you must agree, otherwise you wouldn’t keep bringing it up,” I remarked as I dropped the hateful garment on the counter.
Nora crossed her arms over her chest. “I give up. I’m done talking about it.”
I turned my attention to the cashier who was sliding the dress onto a hanger. “What’s the return policy?”
She eyed me suspiciously like I was going to take the dress out, run a Tough Mudder with it, spill some cocktails on it, and roll around on the beach. “Well it’s two weeks, but the dress can’t be worn and it has to have the tags on it.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “I’ll know by tonight if
my boyfriend is going to dump me or not.”
“For the love of God,” Nora moaned. “I can’t listen to this self-depreciating bull crap anymore. I'll be waiting outside.”
I waved her away. “Suit yourself.”
The cashier typed in the code and smiled at me with a fake pleasant smile. “That’ll be two-hundred and fifty dollars.”
Fantastic. The other dress was at least fifty dollars cheaper. I dug in my purse until I unearthed a handful of credit cards wrapped in receipts. Placing my Visa on the counter, I instructed the cashier to take a hundred from that card. Then I unwrapped the receipts, searching for my Discover card. When I found it, I pushed it toward her with the instructions, “put one twenty-five on there”. Finally, I handed her the last card saying, “put the remaining balance on this”. I smiled at her for a second before remembering that I had some change from lunch. I searched in my pocket for the cash. “Ah! Use this, too!” I said, shoving thirteen dollars and fifty-two cents toward her.
The cashier held the three credit cards in her hand and stared at the crumpled up bills and change on the counter. “Ah, okay...” I think she was fighting the urge to roll her eyes as she began to swipe each of the credit cards individually. She got to the third card and held it up. “Oh this is a Macy’s card. You’re in Darcy’s,” she remarked with unmistakable distain.
I rummaged through my bag. “I’ve got that, too!” I held up my card. The cashier managed a tight smile as she took it.
I headed out to the mall entrance with my dress on a hanger, covered with plastic. Nora was leaning against a railing by the fountain, texting feverishly on her cell phone.
“Who are you texting, now?” I asked curiously.
She grinned mischievously and answered, “Raul, the janitor at my office.”
I sighed. “Are you for real? The janitor now?” I leaned toward her phone and she held it close to her chest. “Let me see that. How does he even know how to text? You told me that he doesn’t even speak English!”
[2013] Note to Self- Change the Locks Page 6