Never Kiss A Stranger

“Henry, I think we should get going.” I separate him and the girl. They both react like five-year-old’s who were just told Santa isn’t real.

I lean close to Henry’s ear. “Remember there’s a certain someone you want to win back.” Why am I doing this?

Pure torture.

“Right,” he says, like it’s an afterthought. “Yes, I should do that. Will you call Kiki for me?” He reaches in his pocket and thrusts his phone in my face. “Call her. Put in a good word for me.” He’s all but forgotten the woman at his side.

“You should call her. Once you sleep and sober up. Let’s get you home.”

“No.” He presses some buttons on the phone and then hands it over to me.

And it’s ringing. And she’s answering.

“Hello,” I say, “is this Kiki?”

“Yes. Ellis is that you?”

I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah, it’s me.” And it’s at this exact moment the whiskey shots I had earlier decide to take effect. I’m now delayed drunk. “How are you?” I slur out a bit. “Have I been this drunk the whole time?” I muse, not at all meaning to say it aloud. “Shit, fuck, sorry.”

“Is everything ok? Ellis are you drunk?”

“It’s Henry.” I swat my hand at him, trying my best to get his attention away from fondling Melissa. “He called me and we had some drinks.”

“Ah.”

The background noise of the club fades away as I try to hone in on Kiki’s soft breathing. “Are you ok?” I ask her.

“I’m fine,” she says with a bit too much chipper in her voice.

I step away from the pool table, scouting out a quiet spot so I can talk to her. My feet lead me outside, where I lean against the wall, letting the cool breeze off the nearby ocean filter over me. “Doesn’t sound like you are.”

“I’m just confused, ok?”

“Hey, I get it.” There’s so many things I want to say to her right now. “I get it.”

“Do you?” She lets out a huff of air. “Have you called off many weddings in the past?”

I laugh a bit. “Maybe.”

“Really?”

“No. When I commit, it’ll be forever. No backing out.”

“You think I’m awful, don’t you?” she questions.

“Not at all.”

“Is Henry really drunk?”

I scan the club through the large window. He’s stopped making out with Melissa and the three of them are laughing. “Yeah, he’s pretty wasted. Don’t worry, though. I’m taking care of him.”

“You? You sound drunk too.”

“I may be a little drunk.”

She laughs, and the sound jabs me in the chest.

“Go out with me,” I blurt out.

“What? Ellis…”

Before she can shoot me down, I cut in, “I just need to discuss something with you. Over dinner. Or coffee.”

“Ok. What about?”

“A wedding for my dog.”

“Really?” She pauses, “Um, sure, ok. Text me the details?”

“You got it.”

We disconnect, and apparently that saying about being truthful when you’re drunk is a lie.

I don’t even have a dog.

TWELVE

Kiki

Never eat ice cream out of the carton...

The doorbell rings, and I let both Lola and Poppi inside. We quickly convene in the kitchen where the post-breakup command center resides.

“I’ve got Rocky Road and Chocolate Caramel Fudge.” Poppi sets the frosty containers of ice cream on the granite countertop.

“And I’ve brought How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days and Love, Actually. Which do you want to watch first?” Lola asks, sliding onto a stool.

“Guys, thank you for rushing over. But I’m fine, really.”

Poppi eyes me, carefully. “I brought Kleenex too.”

I laugh a little. “I’m fine, really.” It’s a little unsettling just how fine I actually am. Even when I sat and conjured up memories earlier, trying to cry, I couldn’t. My tear ducts are broken.

When Poppi broke up with the lawyer she was dating a few months back, she was not fine. We watched three back-to-back chick flicks and ate two pints of ice cream...each.

But this isn’t like that. And I really am fine. Not like when women say they’re fine and they really have fifty million different things going on inside their head.

“So, what exactly happened?” Lola rests her chin in her hand and looks at my ringless finger. “No rock. It’s all so real. You sure you’re ok?”

“It is real. And yes, I’m fine.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with trellis guy does it?” Leave it to Poppi to ask the one question I was hoping to avoid.

“No, of course not.” I turn away and place the ice cream in the freezer. While I’m here, I busy myself rearranging some frozen vegetables, so I don’t have to face their inquisition.

“Oh my god,” Lola exclaims, “it is about Ellis the trellis guy.”

I exit the freezer and face her. “Can you not call him that?”

Poppi laughs. “Ha. See, we’re right. You like him.” Her tone is all sorts of accusatory.

“I do not,” I lie. “Henry just wasn’t the one for me.” And that statement is all truth.