Kiss Me, Stupid

by Gia Riley

  “Listen to me, Chandler.”

  Listening to Hollis is what got me into this situation in the first place. I wanted to tell Wirth the truth, but he said the truth would only hurt Wirth more. And, now, look at what we’ve done. We’ve hurt him so much worse than the truth ever could.

  “You were passed out, Chandler. I was asleep when Wirth barged in my room and started drilling me. I played dumb for as long as I could. But you had already told him, so I’m not the one to blame here.”

  Lifting my head, I take a long look at Hollis. Guilt wouldn’t make his eyes water that much. Only pity could make a grown man cry.

  I think he might be telling the truth—that I did this to myself.

  “I really told him?”

  “Yes,” he whispers. “You told him.”

  Before Hollis has a chance to say anything else, I’m dialing Wirth’s number. The call goes straight to voice mail, so I try two more times, all with the same result.

  “Where is he, Hollis?”

  “There’s a diner two blocks away that he likes. Or maybe he just went right to work. Why don’t you just wait and talk to him when he comes home? By then, you’ll both have had a chance to calm down. Rest.”

  There’s no way I can stay home today. Or rest. If I don’t get in the shower now, I’ll be late for rehearsal. “I’ll see him at work then. He’s been taking his lunch the same time as me. I’ll try to sneak out a few minutes early to catch him.”

  Hollis grabs my arm when I try to get out of bed. Shaking his head, he says, “You’re not going to class, Chandler. You’re still too sick and dehydrated.”

  “I don’t care,” I tell him.

  “Well, I do. If you end up in the hospital, you won’t be able to dance at all.”

  I know he means well, but this choice isn’t his. We’ve made a mess of things, and now, I need to fix it.

  “Hollis, you told me Wirth wouldn’t be able to handle the truth. That’s why we kept it a secret in the first place.”

  “I know. What’s your point?”

  “Well, now, this is more than I can handle. It’s hurting me. So, the first chance I have today, I have to find him. And then I have to make him listen to me.”

  I’ll spend the morning learning whatever new routine is thrown at me. As soon as we break for lunch, I’ll explain myself to Wirth. We’ll sit down at the bagel shop across the street and have a civil conversation. And then, once it’s all worked out, we’ll finish out the day and come home—together.

  I realize my plan might be a long shot, but believing I can make this better is the only thing that’ll get me through the day.

  “Chandler,” Hollis pleads one last time as I make a run for the shower, “I’ll talk to your choreographer. She likes me.”

  Everyone likes Hollis. He’s the nice guy who’s easy to fall in love with. Look at me; I knew him a few seconds and kissed him. Like a fool.

  “You’ve done enough,” I tell him. “I’m the only one who can make this better.”

  Wirth

  Calling out of work wasn’t the smartest thing I could have done. I made up some bullshit excuse that I had to settle a few things in Nashville. My boss was cool with it, mostly because he thought I’d rushed back to work all along.

  “Handle your business,” he said.

  “Take your time,” he warned. “You’ve made a big life move. Make sure you can live with your decision.”

  I heard him loud and clear, even agreed with him. But I had been so eager to forget about my music and the stress that went along with it that I jumped back into my old job as fast as I could.

  Why wouldn’t I have?

  The theater’s the only thing I had left that made me happy. And yet, I’m not there. Instead of working, I’m hiding out at my aunt’s house like a chump. I have to though. Because I know, the second Hollis sees me, he’ll want to plead his case some more. He’ll beg for forgiveness, and because he’s my best friend, I’ll feel forced to accept the apology. And I’m not ready to forgive anyone yet.

  Only my sister can find me now, and I’m praying she’s not planning on any layovers in the city. Because, if she knew I’d walked out on Chandler while she was sick, she’d kick my ass regardless of the circumstances. Circumstances that just happen to piss me the hell off.

  “If you break my remote, you’re buying me a new one.”

  “Sorry,” I grumble as I pick up the remote I just threw on the table.

  Aunt Judy doesn’t have to ask what’s up. She’s familiar with the mope I’m so famous for—the darkened room and empty beer bottles on the coffee table.

  “What are you running from this time?” she questions with a sad expression.

  I was never this much of a mess before Nashville. Since then, I can’t seem to get anything right. Life goes to shit before I have a chance to enjoy it.

  “Nothing,” I tell her. “Just needed to get away.”

  She sits on the arm of the couch. I’m about to get a dose of reality whether I want it or not.

  “You just got home, Wirth. If you’re already looking for space, you need to reevaluate things.”

  “Things are good. My job’s fine,” I tell her in the most convincing tone I can manage.

  “Then, why aren’t you there? It’s way too early for you to be done for the day.”

  My aunt has worked as a teacher her entire adult life. Her day ends when mine’s usually just getting interesting.

  “I had a few things to do,” I say, unable to look her in the eye. I’ve never lied to her.

  She doesn’t stop pressing though. Just like my mom used to do, she’ll sit here and fire off questions until she gets the answers she’s looking for.

  I’d save myself a lot of time if I told her the truth on my own. After all, this is her house. But admitting that another girlfriend did me wrong is more than my ego can handle right now.

  “How much stuff did you bring with you?”

  “Just a few things.”

  She’s trying to figure out how long this’ll last. I have no idea when I’ll feel like going back to the apartment, if I can go at all.

  How am I supposed to live with those two, knowing what they did behind my back?

  “Are you hungry?”

  “No.”

  She sighs and then says, “I don’t see any bags lying around, so you obviously left in a hurry. You’re not hungry. You’re day-drinking. What’s her name?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Aunt Judy.”

  “Okay, so things aren’t going well. But you still care about her.”

  I don’t know how she does it. I can dodge her questions, giving her the most basic responses, and she still figures me out. Another reason I’ll never understand women.

  “I never said I cared,” I remind her.

  “You didn’t have to. You wouldn’t be camped out in my living room, looking like your dog had died if you weren’t hurt. And you only get hurt when feelings are involved.”

  There it is again. The curse that plagues me—caring too much.

  Turning off the TV, I sit up and gather the empty bottles on the table. I didn’t realize I had blown through an entire six-pack until now.

  “Good thing I don’t have a dog then.”

  She rolls her eyes, and that makes me smile. I’m not sure why. I’m being a pain in the ass, and she doesn’t deserve it. So, I decide to tell her the truth.

  “Fine, you wanna know what happened? I was into my roommate. It was a stupid thing to do, but it happened.”

  Smiling, she says, “I always thought you and Hollis would make a cute couple.”

  Now, I’m the one rolling my eyes, which only makes her laugh harder. “Chandler. Her name is Chandler.”

  “See, I make jokes; you dish the details. It’s a win-win.”

  “This doesn’t feel like a victory, Aunt Judy.”

  The smile slips off her face. “Nothing’s ever as bad as it seems, Wirth. But I’m guessing that, since you missed work, som
ething pretty big must have happened.”

  What didn’t happen?

  I decide to give her the short version. Straight and to the point. “Hollis kissed Chandler. And neither of them told me.”

  “Ah,” she says. “So, you didn’t go to work today because they’ll be there.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “You can’t get fired over a girl, Wirth. You enjoy what you do. You’re good at it.”

  I enjoyed what I did in Nashville, too.

  “I’m going to the theater tomorrow. I just needed a day to get my head on straight.”

  Like I’m still five, Aunt Judy stands up and ruffles my hair. “We’re having chicken pot pie for dinner. I hope that’s okay.”

  And that’s why I love her. She doesn’t dwell. Doesn’t beat a dead horse. After she gets the story—or at least enough information to satisfy her curiosity—she leaves me alone.

  “That sounds great,” I tell her.

  But, like a fool, I automatically think about Chandler, wondering if she’ll be able to hold anything down today. I’m almost positive she dragged her ass to the theater this morning because she refuses to miss any time. She’ll be lucky if she doesn’t pass out.

  I type out a text for Hollis, telling him to make sure Chandler eats something. But then I remember that he’ll do that anyway—because he cares about her, too.

  This is so messed up.

  Chandler

  I tried to hide the fact that I wasn’t feeling well, but Ms. Sue noticed as soon as I walked into the studio. I was worried she might ask me to leave, so I didn’t get anyone else sick, but she cut me a break and let me stay in the back of the studio.

  “Pick up the counts the best you can,” she said before turning on the music.

  My head thumped with each beat, and my body begged for a bed at the end of each verse. But I kept moving, hoping that I’d retain enough of what we’d learned to get by.

  But then the director marched in, going a mile a minute about where he needed us—something about the staging and blocking being a mess. Of all the days for him to have a coronary, he chose today. The day I could barely hold my head up, let alone dance to the caliber he expects.

  I gave myself a quick pep talk, but once we got onstage, I wasn’t sure I’d last more than a couple of minutes under the hot lights.

  I didn’t stop though. I couldn’t. Everyone that mattered to the production was in the audience, including the producers who had shelled out a lot of cash to get this musical to Broadway. It was no easy feat, and I had to prove that I deserved to have my name inside the Playbill on opening night.

  As excited as I was for that moment, I was just as terrified. Isla was front and center, shining like the star that she was, and though I was just a girl in the ensemble, I wanted to look like her. She was regal. Complete perfection. And they ate up every emotion she portrayed with her body.

  I’d never been so jealous before. She was extremely talented and had everything going for her, and I hated her for it. But I knew I mostly just hated her connection to Wirth. She had been his shoulder to cry on after his mom died, and I prayed Wirth didn’t give her that role again.

  I was on the verge of self-inflicted tears when I fell out of a turn, almost knocking over another dancer as I struggled to regain my footing. Ms. Sue shook her head with disappointment. I was making her look bad.

  All I needed was one more run-through to show Ms. Sue that I could do that turn with my eyes closed, but I didn’t get it. Instead of redemption, we got dismissed for the day.

  And, now, as I leave the studio, I’ve never felt like more of a failure. New York wasn’t supposed to feel this low. Coming to the city was supposed to be the best experience of my life. Everyone else is high off the energy of performing, and here I am, locking eyes with Hollis, the first face I see when I step into the hallway, feeling like I’m getting it all wrong.

  His stare is still full of want while mine is overflowing with regret. Because of that kiss, we crossed a line, and now, I’m not sure how to get back on my own side without hurting his feelings even more.

  “How do you feel?” he asks sweetly as I slip my coat on and wrap my scarf around my neck.

  I’m still sweaty enough that it sticks to my skin.

  “Like hell,” I tell him. “Those lights were killing me today.”

  “You did good.”

  “No, I didn’t. I was a mess, Hollis.”

  He was there. He was probably the one shining the lights on us. But he still shakes his head and says, “Nah. You were the best one up there. But I don’t know how you dance so many hours in a day. I’m tired from just watching. I think we should get a cab.”

  He definitely saw me fall apart at the end of the number.

  “I can walk,” I tell him. “The fresh air will do me good.”

  Before we step outside, he catches me as I glance over my shoulder.

  “Wirth didn’t come to work today, Chandler.”

  I searched every inch of the theater at lunch, hoping Wirth wouldn’t sneak out before I had a chance to talk to him. But that explains why I didn’t have any luck in finding him.

  “Because of me?” I question with a lump in my throat.

  Hollis shrugs. “The boss says he had to handle some Nashville stuff. I’m not sure if that means he went there or if he just needed to make some calls.”

  I’d like to believe that’s the truth. But it seems weird that he’d come back to New York just to leave again. Wirth needs the paycheck just as much as we do. And I’m shocked the production company would give him time off when we’re this close to opening the show.

  “Do you think he’ll be gone long?”

  “There’s no way to tell,” he says, staring off into the distance.

  We’re both feeling pretty low when Isla rounds the corner, giving us a perky little wave.

  “Where’s Wirth?” she asks. “I went to meet him at our spot, and he didn’t show.”

  The fact that they have a spot is maddening. It’s even more frustrating that I don’t know where it is.

  Hollis glances at me, and there’s no hiding the disappointment I’m feeling. This wasn’t how this day was supposed to go, and Isla’s only making it worse.

  Thankfully, Hollis jumps in. “Wirth’s taking care of some stuff today. He’ll be back tomorrow, Isla.”

  It’s a lie. Neither of us has a clue when Wirth will be back. I’d like to think he’s already home, waiting for us to get there, but I know that’s a stretch.

  Isla’s cheerful mood disappears, like she senses something’s up, and that makes me dislike her a little more. Especially when she pulls her phone out and calls him right in front of me.

  “Good night,” I whisper to Isla.

  I can’t stand here, waiting to see if Wirth picks up or not. It’ll just make it hurt worse when he ignores my call again.

  “If looks could kill,” Hollis jokes as he pushes the front door open.

  “Sorry,” I tell him. “I guess I’m not her biggest fan right now.”

  “Neither am I. She always has an agenda.”

  I didn’t think anyone was immune to Isla’s charm. Even Wirth seemed drawn in, but I guess, when you have a history with someone, you don’t notice the plotting and scheming for attention.

  Hollis stays deep in thought the entire walk home, saying very little. It’s unusual for him, and it only worries me more.

  He unlocks the door in silence and then scans the living room, searching for any signs that Wirth’s been here. He’s just as confused about what’s going on as I am. And that’s how I know it’s bad. If Hollis can’t figure out his best friend, then I never will.

  It’s obvious the apartment’s empty, yet I still peek in Wirth’s room before I climb into my own bed.

  A shower can wait.

  Right now, the only thing I want to do is lie here and wait for Wirth to come home. But, as the minutes tick off the clock and I’ve rehearsed what I’ll say to him a million
times, I realize he’s not coming.

  Tomorrow, I tell myself. Wirth will come home tomorrow.

  Wirth

  I’ve officially blown off three days of work, which is two days longer than I expected to be out. But my excuse has allowed for it. If I really had gone to Nashville, it would have taken at least two flights and a lot of airport time.

  Luckily, my aunt didn’t find out about the lie I’d told. She’d have been disappointed, and that’s the last thing I need—for her to kick me out. Because, since our initial talk, Aunt Judy has stayed off my back, letting me work out my problems on my own time.

  Not that I’ve tried.

  I guess that’s my thing. Ignore it, and it’ll somehow get better.

  There’s no ignoring the perfume that wafts into the house though. The second the front door opens, the smell gets pushed across the room and into my face.

  Perfume usually doesn’t bother me, but she wears the same thing Mom used to wear, and that’s how I know Maisie’s here—the only other person I’m avoiding right now.

  My sister drops her bags by the stairs, and then her heels knock against the hardwood—the first clue she’s on a layover.

  “Too busy to respond to my texts, I see.”

  And so it begins.

  “I’ve had a lot going on, Maisie.”

  “I can see that,” she says as she stares at the coffee table that’s littered with beer bottles again.

  That’s pretty much how it’s looked since I got here. It’s not my fault there’s a liquor store on the block.

  “How long are you in town, Maisie?”

  “Three days. Then, I’m off to London.”

  I used to think her job was boring. But the thought of going someplace different, multiple times a day, is pretty damn appealing right now. I’d even take airline food and hotels over this stiff sectional I’ve been lying on.

  “Move over,” Maisie says as she bats my feet out of the way.

  I don’t have to turn my head to know she’s staring at me.

  “Go ahead,” I tell her. “I know it’s killing you.”