A Broken Cup

Chapter 2

That was Sunday. Carmel had taken his leave (and his things and some of mine) on Friday night after dinner, which I’d fixed, and after telling me how many boffos he’d had on the side during the two years we were together.

I had loved him and thought he’d loved me. I can’t say we even had any fights, and maybe that should have warned me. I don’t know. I’d never been in love before, well, not since tenth grade when I crushed so hard on the gym teacher. I had thought that was love, and when he’d married Miss Ingles, the art teacher, I was devastated.

Which reminded me! Now that I knew Carmel had been unfaithful, to say the least, I needed to make an appointment to get tested, right away. Goddamn it. I thought I was over all that kid stuff, but nope. And now I had to get airplane tickets for tomorrow? I might have inserted a few soft words about my feelings. No, I doubt they were soft.

Oh, geez, I can’t be busy hating Carmel right now and have my brother’s face pop up in its place. I can’t hate Dad anymore if he’s dead. s**t, I can’t even make up with him, like I’ve been ready to for the past ten years. Asshole.

And I need a haircut. Have one scheduled for Thursday; have to cancel it. And the kids I offered to teach surfing? Gotta bail on them. More phone calls. And where is my cell phone? Oh, s**t, no, tell me that little prick did not take my…

Searching the house did no good. The cell phone, as well as all my flash drives and old CDs and the orange marmalade I’d gotten in the gift exchange last Christmas, were gone. Gone with the wind, the bad evil wind that called itself Carmel. You know, like a bad fart from a sick elephant. The fact that I’d just been on the phone shortly before I thought this did not occur to me, but it turned out to be important.

Oh, but he was a pretty young thing, all sparkling eyes and muscles and hung…ahem. The manners of a prince, as they say, taking ways and boy he took everything, didn’t he? Was it me? Was I just too old, no fun, getting fat? I used to think I was ugly…maybe I am. Maybe he was lying to my face all this time about that, too.

Fuck. This isn’t getting anything done. I need to pack! I need to get a cat sitter! First, I need to…oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Not my LGBT book collection. All those books from JMS and Lear and even the old Oscar Wilde ones? Oh, no. Where’s my cat? Over there? Okay, then I will start angrily throwing things into the kitchen. Clunk! Thunk! All very satisfying!

Calm yourself. You’re okay. It’s going to be okay. It’ll all be over in a week. I hope. s**t. He was way too young to die. I’m crying. No, I’m not crying; he’s not worth crying over. s**t. Who am I crying over, that prick, or the other prick? Yeah, my father was an asshole, too.

For some reason, I wandered outside. The sun was getting ready to set, and it’s usually a beautiful, restful scene, even just from my porch. Next door, I saw someone on their porch, a young woman with bright red hair (L’Oreal Cardinal Red, I thought bitchily). She saw me, smiled, and then looked away when I wiped my eyes and nose on my shirt sleeve. Then she came over. She stopped on the first of my three steps.

“I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t intrude, but you seem upset. Can I do anything? What’s wrong?”

I was partly angry—not at her—and partly heartbroken. I couldn’t manage a smile. This woman was beautiful in a tough way, if that made sense, like she might be butch but so strong in herself that she didn’t have to put on swagger or plaid flannel shirts to be herself. And if she was straight, then once again, she was just herself. I don’t know any other way to put it.

“Sit down,” I offered. “Would you like some wine with my whine? I’ll be right back.”

Moments later, glasses of wine in our hands, we sat side by side on my old wooden porch swing. My cat, Poseidon, was on her lap, purring happily. Usually, he hated everybody.

“I’m Merry,” my guest said. “I just moved in next door, well, in the bottom half of the house anyway. I’m a travelling nurse, so I’ll be here for a while. I love it already, though.”

“My name’s Russ, and you’ve caught me at a bad time.”

“I’m a very good listener. Try me.”

What I was trying to do was not stare at her cleavage. She was very pretty, with that bright curly hair, big brown eyes, and laugh lines. I thought she was probably around thirty or thirty-five. She was in great shape.

“Do you work out? Snorkel? Bike?” I blurted without thinking, raising my eyes to her face, almost sorry I didn’t enjoy the view of the top half of her great, soft boobs.

“I do Zumba and Yoga and hike. I want to learn to scuba dive, too. I love the water.”

I couldn’t even look her in the face right then. “I have three things to tell you. I’m leaving for a funeral, though I’ll be back, I hope. My lover just left me, and I’m gay.” There. Now, she’d probably run away.

“Oh, good! The gay part, I mean. I’d love to meet some more LGBT folk while I’m here. My boyfriend and I just broke up, too, but it was mutual. I’m sorry yours was so painful. Some people are just assholes. I wouldn’t mind meeting trans or lesbians or whatever. I’m sort of bi, obviously!” She laughed at herself. “Is there any particular place people hang out? And do you need a cat sitter? I love animals.”

Then I did meet her eyes, and her smile told me we were going to be friends. Not lovers, not on my part, thanks very much, but probably very good friends.

“I think my ex took my phone.”

“You’ll borrow mine then. I bet you have a ton of phone calls to make. And while you do, I’ll go home and put together some supper. Come over in an hour?” She dug into her pocket and handed me her phone.

Damn. Why couldn’t she be a guy?

“Your phone looks just like mine. I really appreciate this.”

I went back in the house to where I had an old-fashioned paper spreadsheet of my important phone numbers, got busy, and spent almost that whole hour making calls. When I went over to her place, she had cooked steaks and sweet potatoes and let me whine and grumble and sniffle. Plus, she offered to take me to the airport tomorrow and to take care of my cat. I couldn’t have been more blessed (other than the whole she’s a girl thing.)

Merry and gay. It was kind of cute.