I bought the Hot Mess a little souvenir from Seattle. Nothing fancy, just one of those vinyl blind box toys from Urban Outfitters.

“Can I see you today?” I asked, using my shoulder to press my phone against my ear while I silently ordered a bagel at this small coffee shop near the office.

“How was your trip?” She sounded distant on the phone, as if I had interrupted something.

“It was all right,” I answered. “Are you free later today? I brought you back something.”

“Come by after you finish work. I should be home by then.”

We hung up after, but I kept my ear pressed to the phone. I felt like I had missed something, some nuance in her voice that I was supposed to catch. I finished my bagel and walked back to the office thinking I should call her, but not doing it.

“Hi there, stranger,” I said when I picked her up. I thought I was being cute, but she only gave me a forced half-smile.

“How was your trip?” she asked.

“Good, just what I needed,” I sighed. “Hey, can you grab that package on the backseat? I got you something.”

“You got me a goody?!” she said, her face lighting up.

“Of course I did. It’s nothing fancy, though.”

She reached behind to grab the Urban Outfitters bag and dropped it on her lap. She took out the box and giggled at the chubby smoking rabbit printed on the side.  “I love it,” she said. “Thank you. Look which one I got.”

I turned to see her holding a plaid patterned smoking rabbit, fitting perfectly in her tiny hands.  “So you missed me while I was gone, huh?”

“No, who told you that!” she laughed.

“A little drunk birdie told me,” I answered, before she punched my arm.

“Well, maybe I missed you. Just a little.” She twisted the top of the Urban Outfitters package as if wringing out a wet t-shirt. “There’s something I have to tell you. It’s  important.”

“Sure, what’s up?” I asked. “Let me just pull into the parking lot ahead and you can have my full attention.” I turned into an almost empty parking lot connected to the beach. There were only a few cars there, mostly surfers sitting on the beds of their trucks talking about the waves.

Even after I parked the car, she didn’t say anything. I turned the car off, while Mandalay’s “It’s Enough Now” reached its climatic end.  “What are we?” she finally asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, what are we? Are we dating? What?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, never really thought about the logistics of all of this. I just know that I like spending time with you, that’s all.”

I reached across the seat to hold her hand, but she pulled away and folded both hands in her lap. “I don’t think you should do that,” she whispered.

“Oh–I’m sorry.”

“That night I called you,” she began to say. “I was out with a bunch of my friends. We went to this bar in town and I drank…a lot. I really missed you.”

“I remember you called.”

“So yeah, anyway, my ex was there that night.” At this point, she wasn’t even looking at me, just staring down at my gift on her lap. “She came right up to me and talked to me. Like seriously, what the fuck? She was making a really big scene saying she was so sorry she ever hit me. It was fucking embarrassing.”

I can’t remember if this is the point in the conversation where I feel like her story is going to make me want to vomit. “So what happened? Did your friends say anything?”

“No! They were dead fucking silent. Anyway, it was getting really out of hand so I told her let’s talk outside–”

I interrupted her, “Is that when you called me?”

She looked embarrassed, and then, defeated. “Yes.” Now the image I had of her drunk-dialing me has been re-formed with her ex standing beside her. I imagined her cooing in her ear as the Hot Mess tries to talk to me. I tried to not react, but I could feel my jaw tightening.

“So what happened?” It felt like pulling teeth from her, grabbing information I didn’t want but somehow felt I needed.

“Well, I don’t know. She and I talked for a while. And after she kind of sobered up, she was okay. I don’t know. I don’t know.” She shook her head and kind of smiled to herself.

“What? Just tell me already.”

“I slept with her last night.” I knew those words were coming, but they felt heavier when she actually said them. They filled the car with such tension that I had to roll down my window. I thought about her and her faceless ex having drunk, possibly regrettable sex somewhere and I felt sick.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s not like we were official or anything,” she said under her breath. “I don’t know.”

“I didn’t even say anything about that. I’m just wandering how you can call me and tell me you miss me and then go sleep with your ex right after.” My hands started to feel tight and hot. I didn’t feel like yelling at her, after all, she was right, we weren’t officially together.  We never made any agreement to be exclusive and honestly I never felt emotionally exclusive with her. But something about this guts me and leaves me feeling broken. Maybe it’s because the thrill of being with her has now been shattered by the reality that she’s not over her ex.

“Say something,” she whispered. “You haven’t said anything for the last 10 minutes.”

“I’m sorry. I really just don’t know what to say.” Eventually there really was nothing left to say other than sorry and the Hot Mess’ adamant assertion that we were never official followed by remorse for her actions. I drove her home and barely looked at her when she got out of the car.

“Can you call me when you get home? So I know you got home okay,” she says, peeking her head back in the car after she got out.

“Yeah, sure thing.” I drove home without remembering how I got there. I didn’t call the Hot Mess when I got inside my apartment and she never called me.

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2 Comments » Posted: December 3rd 2009
Filed under: The Bad
Tagged In: the end, the hot mess, this is why you're called the hot mess, time for something new