I nodded, not really understanding but loving the fact that she knew terms like “freelance” and “contracted.” It sounded so business-like. Also, it sounded like she was open to working with me.
Lissie shrugged. “I get a lot of money from my parents each month, so, technically, I don’t even need to work.” She smiled, reaching for the crumbs of our onion rings.
They hadn’t said no, but neither had they said yes.
“So...” I said, hoping that they would finish my sentence.
“I can’t speak for Zoe girl over here,” Lissie said, “But I’m in! The only stipulation my parents have for giving me money is that I have a job. What’s better than working with you?”
I wanted to squeal with excitement.
“I’m not going to quit my other jobs,” Zoe said. “But, I don’t see why I can’t work with you as well.”
This time I did squeal. I was so excited. I clapped my hands together like a two-year-old.
I ordered another round of fruity alcoholic drinks so we had a reason stay. We spent the rest of our time talking about who was going to do what, who got what percentage of the company, and all of those boring (but so damn exciting!) details.
“Are you drunk?”
“Yesh,” I slurred.
“Jesus, Lenny, it’s only one in the afternoon.”
“I’m celebrating.”
“What are you celebrating?”
“The fact that it’s one in the afternoon!”
Vic shook his head, annoyed.
“Don’t worry, Emily Post,” I said, leaning against the wall for support. “I’m perfectly capable of throwing up into the toilet.”
That was a bit of a low blow. He had taken complete care of me the last time I had gotten wasted, yet here I was acting ungrateful. To be honest, though, our relationship was so up in the air it was in another stratosphere.
We never resolved the wife thing, or the temporary living arrangements thing, or the I-work-for-a-company thing. We knew eventually this relationship was going to end. Vic was going to leave and I was going to stay. So, we just floated along in this ephemeral love acting like everything was okay when we both knew it wasn’t. It seriously sucked.
That’s not why I got drunk. I got drunk because for the first time in years I felt happy. Yes, finally Lennox Moore was happy. I’d started a business and my two (and only) fri
ends were going to be my partners. I wanted to relish in that. Have you ever been drunk because you were happy? I haven’t. Before today, I’ve only gotten drunk because I was sad. Being happy-drunk is fucking awesome. It’s like being a dog with your head out the window. It was superlative. It was sublime. Until I got home and saw Vic, that is.
I went to a pro baseball game once and I caught the ball. I thought it was awesome until everyone said I ruined the game. Apparently I caused the other team to win.
Fuck sports.
Where was I?
Oh yeah. Vic.
How do you enjoy something when you know it has an expiration date? We’ll watch TV together and I’m not sure if it’s the last time. It’s exhausting treating everything as if it was the last time. The last kiss. The last fuck. The last shared salad. At first it was romantic. Now, it’s just tiring.
“Lenny?” Vic asked, bringing me out of my reflection.
“I took a cab!” I said, although he didn’t ask.
“Do you even have a car?”
“No.” I giggled.