A Toast to Starry Nights (7 page)

She resumed her painting, using a
gentler touch with less dye. “He wanted to help make your childhood ambition
come true. I can understand you getting pissy over him making me a copy without
your consent--I'd be a raging bitch too– but you need to get over yourself.
Want to marry him? Better get used to him pushing you to do what's best for ya,
whether you like it or not. Time to channel that ability to overlook irritating
shit for this issue you're having with him. Your bitchiness on occasion can be
construed as being a harpy. Just sayin'. You screech again, he's liable to
break out the Drill Sargent on you... and you know it.”

Yes, I was familiar with Mr. Gonna Push
You Drill Sargent. Bossy, always-right-cuz-he's-alpha-male, do-things-his-way
Dmitri was a real treat to deal with when it emerged. It doesn't happen often
since he finally learned to relax, but when it does, there's no mistaking it.

“I know he's not perfect. If he was
perfect, then Lorryn wouldn't have made a difference back in the day.. Being
too nice to females has always been Dmitri's downfall. If he was perfect, he
would have gotten out from beneath her thumb long ago. Instead, he let her walk
all over him. She kept him away from his friends and cheated on him, and he
just accepted it. He's stubborn, goes behind my back to do things he knows I'd
disapprove of, and worst of all, leaves the toilet seat up half the time-- by
the way, that half the time is always at night. And his sense of loyalty has
been known to be astoundingly skewed. Again, reference Lorryn.”

“Like you're one to talk.” She deepened
her voice and became a bobble-head. “Hello, my name is Moobs and I'm an abusive
assjacket fucktard hell bent on destroying a person's will to live...” Her
natural voice made its return. “You put up with that fucker and his shit for
three years. Talk about a skewed sense of loyalty.”

I didn't want to think of He Who Sucks.
If I could banish the thought if him lurking around the borders of my mental
kingdom, I would. It upset me to know that the moment Dmitri proposed got
ruined by two things: Vomit Volcano and equating the experience with Mike's
presence. No, make that three things. The high anxiety towards my own wedding is
an uncool factor, too.

Jet's voice trailed off, then picked up
again on a different tangent. “What the fuck did Dmitri see in her? Did she
have some massive tatas or something equally impressive? You were her friend...
gimme the dirt on her. I heard she moved back up here. Let's discuss strategy
for handling that psycho.”

She and I had rehashed Moobs more than
once. Her point was well taken and so I responded only to her query about
Lorryn. “Actually no.... there was a rhyme that went around when she transferred
up here in high school that made it a point to comment upon her lack of
chesticles.”
Roses are red, violets are black... why is your chest as flat
as your back?
”Honestly, I don't know. Maybe it was just cuz she was into
him. I didn't witness it firsthand. She was living in Sacramento with her
biological mom when she and Dmitri dated. She appealed to him on some level, I
guess. She in Chico?”

“No, Forest Ranch.”

“How do you know?”

“Soccer moms gossip, you know, during
story time. So was she hot? Or an intellectual hottie like you? Because he
totally digs the brains. Yummy, but not a zombie's definition of yummy brains.”

“She wasn't fugly but she wasn't
gorgeous. She was an average American girl. Lorryn was a cheerleader too, so
she couldn't be considered too horse-faced. Why you drilling me on her?”

“Cuz you brought her up. And although I
know bits and pieces, I don't know the whole sordid saga of that particular
cluster-fuck you were involved in. I know she dated Dimi, broke up with him,
and then somehow got you and Dmitri together back in the day, just to break you
guys up. I know way more about you and Dimi finally getting together than I do
about all you kids back in the day.”

“She tried her hand at hooking us up for
the Winter Festival dance when they broke up for the umpteenth time. I ended up
going with a vertically challenged guy friend who was right at boob level when
I wore heels. Luckily for us both he only slow-danced with me once.”

“Why didn't you go with Dimi? Thought
you had the permahots for him.” She mirrored technique as she colored in roses
at her end of the scarf.

“Because I didn't know him at the time.
And then there was Lorryn. She didn't mind him taking me to a dance but any
other activity was frowned upon. She was territorial, and even though they
weren't dating anymore she kept him on a short leash. When Dmitri and I started
hanging out that summer, she got really pissed. And when she found out I was
dating him... oh I'm just surprised that my craptastic little Geo Tracker didn't
mysteriously burst into flame one day.”

“Awww, that's so sweet. I think I might
go into a diabetic coma.”

“Don't keel over from the sugary
goodness yet. It was short-lived bliss at best. Dmitri driving up from
Sacramento about four times a week for two months straight to see just me,
didn't sit well with her. They were still all buddy-buddy and she took
advantage of him.” I rinsed the brush and dipped it in the blue dye. A stroke
along the top edge of the rose, and red turned to purple.

“What exactly did she do that made him
break up with you?”

“Lorryn, Dmitri, and I were hanging out
at her place. I left when it got dark. He got her parent's permission to stay
the night on the living room couch. According to him, she said she wanted to
talk to him in her room after everyone went to bed. He went in, lights were
off. She took his hand and put it in a place it'd never been allowed before. He
took advantage of what she offered him since she totally denied him when they
were dating... he broke up with me the next day. They dated again, broke up
shortly thereafter and drifted in separate directions.”

“He felt her up and then dumped you?”

“Yeah he felt her up and got a blow job
in return. It's that wicked old school sense of honor he has. He 'cheated' on
me, he didn't feel right dating me anymore. She tainted him.”

“Oh gawd, that's such high school
bullshit 101. I think I just lost a little bit of respect for him. Did he tell
you he got kissed beneath the belt when he dumped you?”

“Oh hell no! I didn't find that out until
after he tracked me down years after the fact to apologize to me for breaking
up in the first place. Apparently he and Lorryn didn't last very long after he
and I split.” The rest of the story I would save for another day. Jet and I
both focused on painting the background a majestic purple.

“I cannot believe I've known you
thirteen years and only now do I get the full details. Wow. Just wow. So he
apologized, you guys rehooked up and it's happily ever after for you two. Well,
a happier-ever after once you change your tampon and chill about Dmitri. If
you're gonna get angry at someone, be mad at me. It was all my idea. I admit my
guilt.”

“I thank you for owning up to your part
in the shenanigan.”

“Now go apologize to Dmitri for biting
his head off and being a harpy.”

I sighed. Being constantly likened to a
mythological creature did not help. “Did he actually call me a harpy?”

“No. But I know that you didn't take the
news gently when he broke it to you. I heard your harpy-screech all the way
from my place last night when he told you. The only reason I know for certain
that you shat a brick wall is because Dimi called to let me know you're on the
warpath and to hide if I wanted to keep my scalp.” She added splotches of blue
to the purple, making them swirl. With precision movements using needle-nosed
tweezers, Jet placed pieces of rock salt in a crescent moon shape on the
largest splotch.

“Am I really that bad?” I sprinkled sea
salt with a careless hand. The effect salt has on the dye always fascinated me.
It pulls in the dye to where the crystal lays and adds a visual texture to the
area.

“Do you even have to ask? Of course you
are that bad. Remember, he didn't even want to sleep next to you last night?
You puked on him, and he still slept next to you that night... so let's do the
math, shall we? Hrm.....” She closed her eyes and put both hands up to her head
with fingertips touching the temples. “My abacus says, yes, you are that bad.”
Green eyes opened. “But if you want to make amends for being a raging
canis
femina
, then I have some suggestions.”

I was all ears.

Chapter Seven-

In my attempt not to be the harpy Jet
accused me of being, I sought what I hoped would be an appreciated gesture of
repentance for Dmitri. There wasn't much time to prepare... Dmitri would be
home from work at about six-fifteen... and here it was almost quarter to five.

My pillar candle stash got raided.
Halloween, Christmas, Valentine's Day, Smelly-Good and Oh-Pretty! Designs were
all made into romantic gesture fodder. Tealights, too. I aligned the candles to
form a pathway which illuminated the way from the front door to the bedroom
door... and to the stage of my apology for flying off the handle the way I did.
It wasn't appropriate. I felt especially bad upon reflection. As Jet pointed
out in the wonderful way she understates things, I embarrassed not only myself
but him as well during the proposal... then to take it to the next level when
he sought to further my writing ambitions... I yelled like a Jerry Springer
guest. It wasn't cool. Not at all. I felt foolish that Jet had to point out my
waspish mood. She, Queen of the Tart Words, scolded me for sharpening my tongue
on his hide. That was a statement of some magnitude.

Jet requisitioned herself as my
accomplice in accomplishing what I hoped was a romantic moment that made up for
my weak stomach and short fuse. There were no guarantees. After all, last night
was the first time Dmitri slept apart from me ever since we moved in together.
I slept little in our bed that seemed vast without his comforting bulk.

A part of me wanted to go and sit on the
couch and explain myself. The other part stewed that both he and Jet conspired
behind my back and not only took a novel, but raided that particular story and
get me to the church before the end of the decade. However, her wanting to help
with both the novel, and me mending my fences with Dmitri meant a lot. Her
abrasive nature was totally nullified by the secret sweetheart she happened to
be. I could count on Jet to pull off her part of my romantic shenanigan with
her usual flair.

At a quarter after five, she was going
to call Dmitri on his cell. He'd still be out at his shop, or driving to it
from a job site, so he could prepare for tomorrow's agenda. His business as a
building contractor kept him busy on most days. Yet he kept a strict schedule
of starting early to finish early and by five-thirty, he'd be ready to leave
the shop. Here would be Jet's moment to shine. She outlined her plan, and with
the glee in which she spoke made me seriously wonder about her sanity and what
exactly it is she does in her spare time. That woman is diabolical.

A five-gallon bucket would serve as her
cauldron of ice water, three pounds-worth of bacon drippings, masses of fur
from Master Humperdink P. MacFuzzlekins' fuzz brush (Jet's huge Maine Coon Cat
& Manx mix that lays across her lap so she can read aloud to him. A
walking, shedding, meowing nubby-butted-mini-Chewbacca that purrs insanely to
Poe and Palahniuk) the content of her cigar ashtray and mold specimens from the
back of her fridge. That witch's brew would prove to be a bad influence on her
kitchen sink. Dmitri, the sweet guy that he was, would gladly stop by to take a
look and see what could be done. While he was occupied with that god-forsaken
horrific nightmare, I'd have time enough to complete my preparations.

Dinner was a foolproof dish that could
roast for hours in an oven and still be perfect. It was cooking already. I
rigged up a canopy above the bed using a huge wooden embroidery hoop, several
yards of red and purple silks, some length of delicate chain, a picture hanging
kit and a hook screwed into the ceiling. A string of clear tube lights outlined
the bottom of our king size bed. The platform bed of aspen was topped with a
silk quilt I painted. The gold and red Chinese dragon writhed upon a purple
background complimented my exotic endeavor. Plants from the living room,
kitchen, and bathroom were gathered about the bedroom, giving it an enticing
oasis feel. Nag Champa incense burned in a brass censor upon the dresser.

When I heard the front door open and his
heavy footsteps, my heart pounded with excitement. Then a pause that seemed a
year long. Then a hurried thumping my way. Then another pause. I hurried and
took my position upon the center of the tented bed. A glance to the alarm clock
told me it was two minutes to seven. What was he doing? Second thoughts? Did he
want me to come to him? Or did I piss him off that much? What the hell was he
doing?

I could still hear him walking around.
Excitement and anxiety rode high. What was keeping him? He should be here,
kissing me stupid by now. His footsteps drifted away for a moment and then
started again towards the bedroom. I took the opportunity to make sure I looked
perfect. My hair fell down my back in waves. Cosmetics were kept understated,
but emphasis was definitely on my eyes. They were smoky and sultry in a manner
I was unused to, but thanks to YouTube, I mastered the technique within
minutes.