Under the Bali Moon

“Let’s get you back into bed,” Malak said, pulling up a reluctant Zena.

Zena groaned something that sounded as if it might be a cry or helpless whimper as she allowed her friend to move her body.

“How did you get in here?” she asked Malak.

“I’m your assistant. I have a key.”

Zena nodded and slid into her normal place in the bed. Malak hopped in beside her. She reached for her purse.

“I didn’t know what you had, so I made this a BYOB party.” She pulled out a bottle of Hennessy. “No sense in just one of us being drunk.” She giggled and slid the bottle onto the nightstand so she could go to the kitchen to get one glass.

When she returned, Zena had already opened the bottle and was taking sips through tears.

“Oh, shit!” Malak climbed onto the bed and grabbed the bottle. “You’re turning down epic breakdown lane right now! I’ll go with you, but you have to let me catch up.” Malak poured her glass, took a quick shot and poured more Hennessy before putting the bottle back into her bag and zipping it shut. She took a sip and lay back on the pillow adjacent to Zena.

The friends rested in silence for a while, letting the moment catch up to Zena’s racing emotions and Malak’s alcohol level.

“I was fine,” Zena whispered. “Doing just fine. I was over him. I’d moved on.”

“Chile, wasn’t nothing fine about you. Yes, you were doing something that looked like moving on. But wasn’t nothing fine.”

“I’m a successful attorney. I make a good salary. I vacation in Tahiti. I have perfect credit. I own a horse,” Zena listed, struggling so hard to sound sober.

“And you don’t have a man. Not-a-one!” Malak countered. “When was the last time you had a man? I sure can’t remember.”

Zena tried to recall this information herself; it was hard, but after some seconds she resurrected a name: “Corey! That was my last boyfriend.”

“The dude with the perm? The one everybody said was gay?”

“He didn’t have a perm! He was half-Panamanian. And he wasn’t gay.”

“You can keep claiming that, but he was gay as hell. Evidenced by the fact that he didn’t ever want to get into bed with you,” Malak said laughing.

“He was a Christian man who was saving it for marriage.” Zena felt herself smile a little.

“No, he was saving his down-low lifestyle for marriage. As soon as you two crossed that threshold and he got those papers, you wouldn’t have seen an ounce of affection for the rest of your life! Next!”

“Well...” Zena tried to recall another ex, and this required so much thought she was frowning and furrowing her brow as if she was considering some complex mathematical equation. “What about Obinna?”

“That fine African doctor?” Malak recalled. “He was a good catch. What ever happened to him?”

“He wanted me to move to Nigeria with him.”

“Hell no! They get you there and it’s Not Without My Daughter starring Zena Nefertiti Shaw as Sally Field. Next!”

Zena started frowning and furrowing again, trying to find another name, but the struggle was too difficult.

“You know what—just let it go,” Malak said, “because you’ve already proven my point—ever since your breakup with Adan all you do is date these men who aren’t available to you, or you aren’t available to them. It’s like you’re waiting on someone or something to happen. Like you’re waiting on this perfect man to show up, but we both know he doesn’t exist so maybe you’re waiting on a specific perfect man to show up.”

“I’m not waiting on anyone. Especially not Adan.”

“Then why aren’t you married? Why haven’t you found anyone yet, Z?” Malak asked.

“I could ask you the same thing. Why aren’t you married? Why haven’t you found anyone?” Zena countered.

“Because I’ve been married and it didn’t work out. Marriage is a gamble. My ex was way too controlling. But we aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about you, Zena, and your lack of an ability to find a mate.”

“You say it like there’s something wrong with me,” Zena complained.