Undiscovered Gyrl: The novel that inspired the movie ASK ME ANYTHING (Vintage Contemporaries) (19 page)

“Not even with Margaret when you first met?”

“Are you kidding? At very best it was three times a week. These days it’s three times a month if I’m lucky.”

“Poor boy.”

“Tell me about it.”

I am afraid to keep describing what today was like. I don’t want to make it seem like less than it was.

All day we held hands nonstop even when we were eating. I would give anything to spend a whole night with him. Maybe he can pretend to go away on a business trip and we can get a motel room in the city. I bet we would hold hands all night, even while we were sleeping.

The first email I opened today was from an Arabic fundamentalist who said if I lived in his country I would be killed for “crimes against chastity.” I wrote back and said that as benighted as his country is, I didn’t really believe they would kill a girl my age just for falling in love. And he wrote back that a few years ago they hung a 16-year-old girl for way less than what I did with Paul. I wrote back and said “Well, then thank god I live in America and please don’t ever write to me again.” I feel like calling the FBI and asking them to track this guy down and open up a can of Guantanomo on his ass. Hahaha! Suddenly I’m all right wing!

Must run. Can’t be late for work. Can you believe I actually get paid to spend time with the man I love?

Paul had meetings all day. Cole was a fucking nightmare. It was not his fault. He’s been drooling and sucking on his hand and these are the sure signs of teething. I gave him some herbal drops and that helped a little. Finally Paul got home but we had barely any time together before Margaret got back early. Good thing she called first and warned us. I guess this means she doesn’t suspect anything or she would never have called. If she was not so self-involved with her career she would definitely sense something weird was
going on because lately I turn into such a chatterbox the second she walks in. Paul is pretty much calm, except every now and then the tips of his ears turn dark red. (Paul is a physically beautiful man. His only tiny flaw is that he needs to shave between his eyebrows. If we were a real couple I would tell him.)

Margaret was worried about how tired Cole looked. I explained that he has begun teething so he only took one nap and it was only for 40 minutes. She looked at me like it was my fault. Hey, lady, if you don’t like the job I’m doing then quit your stupid career and start acting like a mother! Actually, no, I take that back. I hope her job lasts forever.

I am in an extra foul mood right now. When I got home there were all these cruel emails waiting for me. I deleted most of them based on the subject line. And then I saw one from Joel Seidler and I thought “Hey, good old Joel. I miss him. Maybe this will cheer me up!”

This is what he wrote:

I don’t know whether I should call him and apologize or just let him go. If I let him go he will tell everybody what a self-centered bitch I am. If I apologize but don’t really mean it, he will end up hating me even more. So I should only call him if I am sure that I really want to be his friend.

The funny thing is even though he says he is the only straight guy in the world who doesn’t want to bone me, I don’t believe him. I think he totally wants to have sex with
me. I know that sounds conceited but, come on, can’t you sense it from his letter? No guy gets that upset by the behavior of a female friend unless deep down he wants to bone her. I need to think this over. Even though he is an intelligent and honest friend and a great listener, do I really want someone in my life who is so needy?

Today is Leap Year, which only comes around once every seven years. Paul informed me that it is also an old holiday known as Sadie Hawkins Day. This is the day when women are allowed to propose to men. So when Paul was going down on me this afternoon I whispered “Will you marry me?” He laughed so hard he almost choked.

I heart making Paul laugh.

This evening my mom and Mark were planning their wedding on the dining room table with all of their assembled materials spread out before them. Even though I am dreading the event they looked so happy doing it I decided to join in. I sat down and started looking at the sample invitations and the brochures for ballrooms and the photos of wedding
cakes. It was okay for a while. Mark was being the least cynical I have ever seen him and my mom was like a little giggling girl. When Mark got up and went to the kitchen and came back with a cold beer for me, I was blown away. It had been a while. It tastes so much better when you don’t have to steal it!

The whole time we were looking over the materials, the big discussion was the date for the wedding. What was the perfect day? We narrowed it down and voted on three choices. June 21 won 3-0. I thought “Hey, that was easy. Maybe we’ll become sort of a family now.” But then out of nowhere, Mark says something about how the only awkward part of the transition will be where I will sleep in the eight weeks between the wedding and when I leave for college.

I was like “Excuse me?” and that’s when they told me that they had decided to sell our house, so that right after the ceremony my mom can move straight into Mark’s condo. I was in shock. I have been to his condo. It has three bedrooms, and one of them is a home office and the other is a den with an exercise bike. And even if it had ten bedrooms, so what? I love our house!

I completely freaked out. Where was I going to stay when I come home from college? Where was I going to store all my stuff? What if I want to defer again? Where will I live? I was so disgusted I didn’t even speak. I just got up, went to
the kitchen, stole two of Mark’s beers and escaped to my room. I slammed the door as loudly as possible.

Right now my mom is outside begging me to talk to her. “Sweetheart! Please open up. We need to discuss this! Please!”

I can’t decide what cruel thing to scream back. Either “I have a better idea. Go discuss my upcoming suicide with your ugly boyfriend!” or “We don’t need anything. You need to haul your big fat ass to bed!”

Oh, well, just lost my chance. She stomped away. She said she can’t wait until I start college and get the hell out of her life for a while. Feeling’s mutual, bitch!

Today would have been my father’s 55th birthday. If I was a better person I would spend the day with Affie. She called me this week three times but I never called her back. I’m sure it was to invite me over for a memorial dinner. She must be very lonely. But I just can’t bear to eat her freaky food and listen to her talk about my dad like he was a combination of George Clooney and Jesus Christ.

I would love to call Paul and tell him about my mom selling our house. I think he will understand my feelings of profound rejection. I will have no real home. No center.
When I come home for Christmas break I will be sleeping on the floor of a home office. I know Paul will give me great advice. I wish I could call him now but of course I can’t.

FYI: I also can’t call Dan (dumped me) or Rory (hates me again) or Glenn A. Warburg (possible rapist) or Jade (resident evil) or fat Merci (a bore to the core) or Joel (thinks I am resident evil) or Dr. Sherman (thinks I’m seeing a new shrink). No wonder I can’t stop crying.

I got a nice email from Mglove007 who says the reason why I cannot stop crying is not because my mom is selling the house. It’s because today is my father’s birthday and I am having a delayed reaction to his tragic death. She is probably right. Thanks for writing, gyrlfriend. You are a peach.

Filyboyz6 sent me an article about a 90-year-old scientist who says global warming is going to get worse and worse much more quickly than anyone thinks. Within 20 years there will be abnormal weather all the time and within 30 Europe will be the Sahara desert. And there’s nothing we can do about it! So basically we might as well relax and have fun. Reading this makes me want to have sex with Paul 24/7. Who cares about right and wrong when
we’re all going to fry? I bet this is not the reaction the scientist wanted!

Sorry I haven’t written all week but I have been too happy. It’s been absolutely glorious. This is Paul’s word. Can you tell? When he paid me tonight he whispered “Wasn’t this week glorious?” I whispered back like Katherine Hepburn “Yes, dahling, perfectly glorious!” and he cracked up. I make him laugh all the time. I don’t think I have ever been this funny. I’ve been discovered!

I did not even care that Hillary Clinton won some states on mini Super Tuesday. Paul was really angry about it because it means we’re going to have to tolerate her dirty campaign for weeks and weeks to come but I could care less. If I can be naked with Paul every day I don’t care if Hitler is president.

Did I really just write that? Hahaha!

Tons of snow. I am a bored harlot. Even though I am typing right now, deep inside I am sitting on the telephone waiting for it to hatch. Paul said if he could manage to grab a few
minutes alone he would call me this weekend. In eight minutes the clock springs ahead one hour. One hour closer to Monday morning when I will be in his arms again.

All cozy this morning with the world covered in white, I started thinking about what it means to be a good person. Am I a bad person for having sex with a married man or is it just my action that is bad? If I died today and there was really such a thing as Elysium, would I go there or would I end up in Greek hell? I think the answer is pretty obvious. Better pack the ole sunscreen, Katie!

So far there has only been one negative moment with Paul. It’s probably nothing but I want to mention it just in case. Wednesday we were lying naked on a beach towel spread over one of the guest room beds and I said “Let’s move to a farm and make babies.” He laughed and said “But I already have a baby. Wait, come to think of it, I have two!” He started tickling me like I was a little girl. I laughed but I thought it was a pretty disrespectful way to treat me. That’s it. The only negative moment. Not bad considering with Rory there was a negative moment every five minutes.

Today I told Paul about my mom selling our house. I’m not sure why it took me so long. Maybe because I don’t want to bore him with my juvenile problems. Anyway he was so sympathetic about it that I told him about Mr. Silaggi too. The whole time I talked he just kept shaking his head and saying “You poor thing. You poor thing.” I also told him that Dr. Sherman wanted me to write a letter to Mr. Silaggi even if I never send it. Paul said that sounded like an excellent idea, that he was proud of me for doing it and that he would like to read it when I’m finished. Does this mean I actually have to write it now? Shit.

Margaret’s job finishes in ten days. She will then go back to being a full-time mom. It will be almost impossible for Paul and me to be alone unless we meet at a motel. Or if he’s brave enough to risk it, at my house when my mom’s at work. Even though I am an atheist I pray Margaret gets another job soon. If god actually does exist I doubt he will answer an immoral prayer like that. Which means I might have to kill her! LOL!

All day my throat hurt and my nose was runny but I pretended I was fine because I knew if Paul knew I had a cold,
he would make me go home to protect Cole. Somehow I made it through the day but now I am really ill. Fever and aches. Just took a ton of vitamin C. I must wake up feeling better. I can’t miss work!

I was just joking about murdering Margaret. I can’t believe how touchy and stupid some of you guys are. Lighten up, yo.

Woke up with a 102.7 fever. Head full of boogers. Coughing up chunks of lung. My mom had to call Paul and tell him I wouldn’t be coming in today. How weird was that? I think I would die of nervousness if those two ever met. They are only four years apart.

The governor of New York resigned today on TV because he had sex with a whore. I kept watching his wife’s face. She reminds me in many ways of Margaret. Very classy and strong. What would Margaret do if she found out about me and Paul? Would she stand by her man, all sad faced and loyal with bowed head, or would she divorce his cheating ass so I could have him all to myself? Only one way to find out. Make sure she catches us. Which won’t be easy. Margaret is so type A she never comes home unexpectedly. She always calls first. Paul says she is “the Anti-Surprise.” (Get it? Like the Anti-Christ. Ha!) He says this is the main reason their
sex life has never been good. She is not spontaneous like I am. I always say yes.