The Awesome Girl's Guide to Dating Extraordinary Men (34 page)

“Tammy, calm down,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, even though the first line was starting to kick in and I definitely didn’t feel steady. “Just tell me what happened.”

If you can, try to meet someone during the summer. It’s a downright lovely time to fall in like …

—
The Awesome Girl’s Guide to Dating Extraordinary Men
by Davie Farrell

THURSDAY

I
ran after Mike, although my dress was still unzipped at the back and I didn’t have on any shoes. “Wait,” I said. “You can’t bother Tammy with this. She’s
dying
.”

“I realize that,” he said. “And I’ve been trying to figure out how to solve us without going over to her place, but I can’t, so I’m going to have to confront her. You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.”

“First of all, there is no ‘us.’ Second of all, I’m not volunteering to come with you, I’m trying to stop you from further traumatizing a very sick woman. Third of all, this right here is why I kind of hate actors. You are being so unnecessarily overdramatic.”

Mike came to an abrupt stop. “Wait,” he said. “Can you say that ‘first of all’ one again?”

Standing in the concrete driveway, I had to cycle back in my memory before restating my first point. “There is no us,” I said.

He smiled and stepped closer. “Say that again.”

“There is no us,” I repeated, taking a step back because I didn’t like the gleam in his eyes.

“Yes!” he said, pumping his fist. “I’ve seen all these movies where the main character says ‘There is no us,’ and do you know what they all have in common?”

“Cliché?” I guessed, honestly baffled by this new line of conversation.

“The characters always end up together at the end.
Always
. Because there was in fact an ‘us,’ the manifestation of which was one of the characters denying it.”

He turned and started walking again.

“You know we’re not in a movie, right?” I asked his back.

“Like I said, you don’t have to come with, but I’m going do this thing. Mike Barker gets what he wants.”

He acted like I had a choice, but I did have to come—for damage control, at the very least. Also, how was I supposed to enjoy two New Year’s parties with Sharita, knowing that Mike was telling Tammy everything?

“Fine,” I said. “Can I at least have time to zip up my dress and get some shoes and my phone?”

Mike was at his car now. “I can zip up your dress for you, but I’m done with waiting. I’m leaving right now, with or without you.”

Scared that he’d really leave without me, I jogged and jumped into the car before he put it in drive.

“How about the part about me not liking you?” I asked, pulling on my seat belt.

“I’m a pretty likeable guy, Thursday. I think it might be that you think you don’t like me because you haven’t gotten to know me yet. We definitely had sex too soon.”

“You can’t have casual sex too soon,” I said. “That’s why it’s called ‘casual sex,’ because it doesn’t mean anything. It’s something you do and then you get on with your life. How are you not getting this part?”

“That’s a fascinating perspective. We should talk more about it on our first date.”

“I can’t date you because you’re my friend’s ex-boyfriend. Also, because I don’t want to. I just got out of a relationship and I’ve decided to take a long break from dating. So you see, we really don’t have to go to Tammy with this.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to get rid of one of your excuses, and if you still don’t want to date me after that, then you don’t have to. I can’t force you to give me a chance, but I can clear away the obstacles so that you can see what a good idea it would be to have me in your life.”

“Let me guess, Davie Farrell told you to say that. Word for word.”

He shrugged, “If it makes you feel more powerful and in control to make fun of the fact that I consult with Davie about relationships and my mental well-being, go ahead. I know it’s going to be hard for you to be with someone who has already done the work when you yourself haven’t.”

“Wait, are you seriously putting me down for not having had a ton of therapy that I can’t afford?”

“No, I’m putting you down for not doing the work that you need to do and for choosing hate over forgiveness and for backing away from me because I challenge you. That’s why I’m putting you down.”

For the first time in my life I got how Sharita must feel whenever we got into fights. There was something icky and cold about being on the receiving end of an argument that was way more intelligent than your own. It made me feel both angry and desperate at the same time.

How was I supposed to answer him? Saying, “You don’t challenge me,” would not only be a lie, but would also prove his point. And going with my impulse to just up and smack him would be dangerous because he was driving.

“I only watched the first ten minutes of your
E! True Hollywood Story
, but … you’re not dumb, are you?” I said, phrasing it as more of an accusation than a question.

“No,” he said. “If you had watched the part beyond my high school stint as a drug dealer, you would have seen that I went to Amherst. Right up the road from Smith.”

I looked at him sideways. “Oh, please don’t tell me you were one of those Amherst guys. You were the absolute worst—so cocky, like you were God’s gift to women, just because you had a seven-girls-to-one-guy ratio going on.”

He chuckled. “Well, you Smithies were always talking down to us, like we were idiots because we were guys.”

“
Guys who went to Amherst,
” I corrected, as if that proved my whole argument.

He laughed, sounding way happier than he should have while driving in a car with an unwilling love interest as his passenger, about to confront an ex-girlfriend who was dying of cancer.

“The other day I was watching this old movie on TCM, and I was thinking, that’s what’s missing from rom-coms these days. There’s not enough banter anymore. And you know, I think it’s reflective of society. Men and women, we don’t appreciate wordplay as much as we used to. This is good. I love that we can do this.”

I wanted to point out that we weren’t in a relationship, but he had already shut down that line of argument with his “There is no us” thesis, so I just folded my arms and looked out the window, giving him silence as opposed to banter until we got to Santa Monica.

Sadly, there was a bunch of available street parking outside of Tammy’s building, so my dream of Mike giving up this mission due to parking frustration quickly evaporated.

I set to hoping that Tammy didn’t answer her buzzer. She had become a recluse since getting her terminal diagnosis, and according to Sharita, these days if her nurse wasn’t around to answer the buzzer, then it didn’t get answered.

But as (bad) luck would have it, some guy dressed in a tux was coming out of Tammy’s building as we were approaching the front door. And if he had any questions about the fact that I wasn’t wearing shoes, they were eclipsed by Mike’s star presence.

“Loved you in
Adults at Play
,” he said, holding the door open for Mike and me. “I really thought that you should have gotten the Oscar for that one.”

“Thanks, man,” Mike said with a smile and a wave. He took my hand as we walked through the door, and kept on holding it in the elevator.

I allowed this small intimacy, but only because I needed something to hold onto to get through the worst elevator ride ever. I was going to lose Tammy tonight. It was inevitable, and though I could try to cushion Tammy
against the hurt of my betrayal, there wouldn’t be much I could do to salvage the friendship. I knew that, and I could only hope that my friendships with Risa and Sharita wouldn’t also be damaged in the process.

I once again found myself missing Caleb, who had been so nice and non-confrontational. Really, WASPy guys were the best. I hoped Abigail appreciated that about him.

The elevator dinged and the next thing I knew, Mike was knocking on Tammy’s door. Then knocking on Tammy’s door some more when she didn’t answer the first set of pounds.

“Tammy,” he called. “It’s Mike Barker. And I’m not going away until you open this door.”

We waited, me very much hoping that Tammy would leave him standing out there as long as it took for him to give up and go away.

But no, the door opened a few seconds later, and I was more than a little aghast when I saw Tammy. Sharita’s description hadn’t done her new appearance justice. Her eyes had sunken in, and she was hunched over in a leopard-print Snuggie, her short hair a frizzy and tangled mess. I could just about smell the cancer coming off of her.

To his credit, Mike did hesitate before saying, “Tammy, we have to talk.”

Tammy’s eyes went from Mike to me and back to Mike. “I’m sorry. I hate to be rude, but I’m not up for visitors,” she said, her soft accent as gentle as a cotillion tea. “The only reason I opened the door was to ask you politely not to make a scene. Again, I’m sorry I can’t invite you in, but I’m feeling poorly, and I should return to bed now.”

With her eyes cast down in demure embarrassment for not being the perfect hostess, she then tried to close the door in our faces. But Mike caught it. In her weak, Snuggie-hampered state, she was no match for him and eventually had no choice but to step back when he forced his way in, pulling me (who felt a few steps down from a rat with bubonic plague) in with him.

“I’m sorry, Tammy,” I said, trying to take control of the situation. “I tried to keep him from coming here, but he wouldn’t listen to me. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have slept with him, and I’m so ashamed.”

Tammy blinked. “You slept with him?” she said. “You promised me you wouldn’t have any further contact with him, and then you slept with him? Thursday, I know you’ve always taken a liberal attitude toward relations, which I’ve tried to respect—to each her own. But in this case, I have to say that I’m hurt, and that I expected better of you as a supposed feminist. I thought we were friends.”

I grew up not believing in Hell, because my mother had told me it was a concept made up by the powers that be to keep their sheep in line. But in that moment, I reconsidered my belief because it felt like I was burning alive in a Hell made up of guilt. “Tammy, I’m sorry,” I whispered again.

She regarded me with her large, solemn anime eyes and said, “I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry that our friendship had to end this way. Now, please go.” She pinned me with a look akin to a child begging in the streets. “Please just leave.”

I wanted to grant her wish, I wanted more than anything to leave Tammy in peace. But Mike stepped in front of me. “Don’t guilt trip her like that,” he said. “Look, Tammy, you’re sick. I can see that. And I wanted to avoid this, but you stopped returning my phone calls, and you refused to be reasonable when I asked you for permission to date Thursday the first few times.”

“Wait,” I said, “You already told her?” And just when I thought my opinion of him or myself for sexing him three times couldn’t get any lower, it plummeted off a cliff.

“Yes,” Tammy said, clamping her lips together. “Mike’s been calling ever since Thanksgiving, begging me for the go-ahead so that he could date you.”

Something dropped in my stomach. “Oh, Tammy, I’m so sorry he bothered you.”

Tammy covered her mouth with her two hands and shook her head once, twice, as if trying to ward off a coming tide of tears. “I just want to be left alone,” she said. “I just want to die with some dignity.”

Okay, I had thought beforehand that this scene would be bad, but this was even worse than anything I could have possibly imagined. “Let’s go,” I said, tugging on Mike’s hand.

But to my surprise, Mike refused to budge. “Tammy,” he said. “You’re killing her with guilt. She’s upset because she doesn’t want to hurt you. And I’d let it go, but I’m in love with her, so you’ve got to tell her it’s okay.”

“In love with me?” I said. “No, no, no, you can’t be.” Then, to Tammy: “He’s just being overdramatic again. He barely knows me.”

“Tell her, Tammy,” he said.

“No,” Tammy said, her eyes soft with tears. “I just you want you to go.”

“Tell her!” he yelled.

“Oh my God,” I said, yanking my hand away from Mike’s. “You can’t make somebody stop being upset that you’ve screwed her over. You can’t make someone be okay with us seeing each other just because you want her to be. I’m never going to be okay with my father’s homewrecker second wife, and Tammy’s never going to be okay with this.”

Mike turned to me, his eyes ablaze. “This is nothing like your father and his mistress.”

“It’s exactly like that,” I said. “And I’m on Team Tammy.”

Mike rubbed his forehead like he had that headache again and said, “Tammy, this is getting really frustrating. Either you tell her or I will.”

Tammy sniffled. “I don’t want to be the kind of person that sues for breach of contract, but please know, I’ll do what I have to do to make sure that you honor your promise.”

“Sue?” I said. Then, upon further review of their exchange, I asked, “Tell me what, exactly?”

“Tammy?” he said.

“Mike, don’t,” she said, her tears gone, replaced by a wild, fearful look that put me in mind of a cornered animal.