Juliette and the Monday ManDates

by Becky Doughty

  As the youngest member, it was Gia's job to begin the pledge. "Welcome Empress Juliette, Empress Renata, and Empress Phoebe." She pressed her hands together in a prayer-like manner and nodded her head to each sister accordingly.

  "Welcome, Empress Georgia." The other three spoke just as somberly, nodding back at her.

  They clasped hands, then, forming a circle, and began the G-FOURce pledge, a time-honored tradition that had somehow survived adolescence into adulthood.

  Let the words of our mouths

  Be necessary, kind, and true.

  Let the secrets we share

  Be kept safe amongst us few.

  Let the decisions that we make

  Be brave, noble, and wise

  Oogie-boogie-doggy-loogie

  Wiggly-jiggly-fries!

  G-FOURce unite!

  They didn't collapse into giggles the way they used to, but none of them was quite grown up enough to give it up. The pledge was like an unbroken cord weaving through their lives, binding them together.

  Renata took a deep breath. "Juliette, this is an intervention."

  "I knew it! No. This G-FOURce is over." Juliette stood up and tried to take Renata's plate from her.

  "Stop it!" Renata refused to relinquish her half-eaten lemon cake, and a brief tug-of-war ensued.

  Phoebe started whooping, her fist in the air, "Cat fight! Cat fight!"

  Gia's eyes darted from one sister to another, a mixture of delight and horror on her face.

  Then Juliette let go and stepped back. Cake and crumbs went flying up into the air, and Renata shrieked as it all came back down, showering her with sticky lemon dessert. Phoebe cheered, and Gia ducked behind a cushion she held up in front of her.

  "You ... you brat!" Renata sputtered, frantically brushing crumbs from her clothes, fingering them out of her hair. "What is wrong with you?"

  "What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you? With all of you?" Juliette retorted, gathering things onto the coffee tray. "Go home, Empresses. G-FOURce is not united today."

  "Jules, come on." Phoebe pleaded, quickly stifling her laughter.

  "And you, Gia? Are you actually here by your own free will?" Juliette turned a scathing look on the youngest Gustafson sister. Gia stayed behind her cushion.

  "Jules, not cool. She's here for the same reason we all are; because we care about you. Sit down, Big Sister. You too, Ren." Phoebe fixed her gaze on a scowling Renata.

  "I don't want to sit down if I'm going to be attacked again."

  "Oh, please. I didn't attack you," Juliette scoffed. "I a-caked you." She laughed, silently at first, then her whole body began to shake until she had to put down the tray lest she drop it. She clutched her stomach as she stared helplessly at Renata, and the more indignant her sister became, the harder she laughed. In a huff, Renata began to gather her things.

  "No wait," Juliette gasped, grabbing at her sister's arm. "I'm sorry, Rennie. Seriously. I don't know why that's so funny." She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, wiping her eyes. "A-caked. It isn't funny at all, really. I don't even know why I'm laughing."

  Renata stood, indecision making her appear vulnerable, and Gia spoke up. "Please, Ren, don't go."

  Finally, she turned around, and picking up the bigger chunks of cake off her seat, she brushed the rest into the palm of her hand. "If we don't vacuum this up, it'll be ground into the carpet."

  Still going into intermittent silent paroxysms, Juliette opened the coat closet in the tiny foyer, and pulled out the lightweight machine she used almost every night before bed. She ran it over the carpet all around the chair, then using the hose, she vacuumed the crumbs off the cushions. When she was finished, she held it up to Renata, a question in her laughing eyes.

  "No!" Renata stepped back, swatting at the offending nozzle. But she was trying not to smile.

  When everyone was settled again, Renata began once more. "Jules." The nickname sounded awkward coming from her. "We think it's time for you to wash your hands of Mike. So we've come up with a plan."

  Juliette rolled her eyes.

  "You're not going to like it."

  Juliette sighed heavily.

  "In fact, you're going to try to get out of it, but you should know that we've thought of everything."

  Juliette moaned and pulled her knees up to her chest.

  "You look like a pill-bug," Gia observed.

  "Maybe an armadillo," Phoebe quipped, and they both laughed.

  "Girls." Renata reined them in again. "Okay. We have a list of eligible men—"

  "What?" Juliette interrupted, her voice rising to a near shriek. "Just kill me now!"

  "Juliette, listen to me. We are not going to stand by and let you wither away over Mike. Just because he was too blind to see how wonderful you are, doesn't mean every other man is, too." Juliette glared at Renata, but she continued, her chin thrust forward. "So we've made up a list of eligible men, and you're going to out with each one of them until you get out of this slump."

  "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. What is this? High school? No, junior high!" Juliette held a cushion to her face in an attempt to block them out.

  "We aren't expecting you to fall in love with any of them. We just want you to go out and enjoy yourself. Have fun."

  Juliette didn't speak. She sat with her pillow over her face for so long that Gia finally whispered, "Did she fall asleep?"

  "Juliette, sweetie?"

  "Is suffocation that easy?" Phoebe poked Juliette's thigh with her toe.

  "I'm alive, unfortunately, and awake. I'm just hoping that if I stay behind this pillow long enough, you three will disappear, and all this will turn out to have been a nightmare." Juliette lowered the cushion a few inches. "Shoot. You're still here." She wished she was somewhere else; anywhere but here.

  No, she wished her sisters were anywhere but here. This was her spot.

  What made them think she'd even consider this ludicrous plan? She didn't feel like dating, and she really didn't feel like forgetting about Mike. At least, she didn't want to forget about being angry with him. She wasn't quite ready to stop feeling sorry for herself, either.

  "This is an intervention, Juliette, not a choice," Renata continued. "We'll give you a few days to get used to the idea, but unless you can come up with a really, really good reason not to participate, the first guy will be here a week from Monday to pick you up."

  "That's ten whole days, Jules. You can be ready!" Gia was full of encouragement, her copper curls bobbing around her face as she nodded.

  Renata held up a paper on which were several names and phone numbers. "Here's the list. We were going to call it The Monday Man-Dates, but we decided that was too cheesy."

  "Too cheesy? Ha! I think it's perfect. This is cheese at its finest! And stinkiest," Juliette snorted, grabbing for the paper in Renata's hand. "Let me see that."

  Renata jerked it out of her reach. "Oh, no, you don't. This is for our eyes only. We only tell them that we're setting them up with you on a blind date. We only tell you their first names. But you have the benefit of knowing that every guy on the list is a personal friend to one of us. Or to John. They're all close to your age; give or take a few years." Then she added as an afterthought, "I'm coming to pick you up next Saturday to take you clothes shopping."

  "I have plenty of clothes."

  "How would anyone know that? You wear the same thing every day. Black pants, faded top." Renata pointed at Juliette's pale green shirt.

  "I do not," she declared, slightly affronted.

  "Hey. Be nice."

  "I am being nice, Phoebe. She needs to hear the truth, and at least I love her enough to give it to her."

  "I'm sitting right here, you know." Juliette had to break it up before any more cake got thrown. "And I like my wardrobe. If I'm stuck going out on a few dates to get you three off my back, fine. But I'm going as me. In my own clothes. My own style." She liked her neutral colors. She thought they made her look soft, ladylike, and stea
dy. She wasn't artistic like Phoebe, or funky like Gia. And she wasn't anything like Renata in her tailored shirts and cropped linen pants. She was just Juliette. Black and white, no surprises, no drama. Steady. Neutral.

  DURING THE COURSE OF the following week, she tried on several different outfits from her closet, until she secretly admitted her sisters were right. Her wardrobe wasn't neutral, it was boring. By Sunday night, she'd finally settled on her favorite pair of black pants, with a long, lightweight sweater. Trying it on, she eyed herself in the mirror. The buttery beige knit didn't add any pizzazz to her appearance, but she wasn't shooting for pizzazz.

  Then Mike showed up on her doorstep.

  He brought tiger lilies.

  Red tiger lilies. Her favorite flowers in the whole world.

  He remembered.

  But she couldn't afford to forget so easily.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “MIKE." SHE GREETED him flatly, not wanting him to suspect just how flustered his appearance made her.

  "Julie." He smiled, his straight white teeth irritating her, while his satin voice soothed her. "It's good to see you again." He paused meaningfully, his lids lowering. "Really good."

  "Why are you here?" Be strong, Jules.

  He hesitated briefly, but it was enough to let on that he'd been expecting a slightly warmer reception. He held out the bouquet. "These are for you. Your favorites." When she tentatively reached for them, he didn't let go. Instead, he covered her hands with his own so they held the flowers between them.

  She flinched at his touch and tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip, pulling her toward him. "Don't I get a thank you kiss?" As he bent forward, she turned her face away in an attempt to evade his mouth. His lips brushed her cheek instead.

  She jerked back at the rasp of his jaw against her skin. "Stop it, Mike." She hoped her voice sounded stronger than she felt.

  He stood so close, that even over the heady fragrance of the lilies, she could smell the familiar Mike smell she had loved for so long. Against her will, she felt herself softening the tiniest bit, just around the edges. He must have felt it, too. He cocked his head.

  "I knew you'd be home tonight, missing me as much as I was missing you." She wrenched out of his grasp and took a step backwards, flowers now clutched tightly to her, trying to restore the boundaries between them. He looked her up and down and smiled indulgently. "No wild weekend plans for you, are there, my sensible Julie? Let me in."

  He knew she'd be home tonight? His Julie? His? And how many times had she told him not to call her Julie? There were so many things wrong with what he'd just said. She felt her stomach knot, and her voice quivered. "You can't come in."

  "Come on, Julie Baby." He tugged on a strand of her hair that had fallen forward over her shoulder. "I've forgiven you. Can't you do the same for me?"

  She scowled at him over the top of the lilies. "You've forgiven me for what, exactly?" Suddenly the deep scarlet petals looked sinister to her; beautiful, but speckled with deceit.

  "For walking out on me." He stroked her cheek, but she flinched, and he dropped his hand. "You hurt me, Julie. It's taken me a long time to recover from your little temper tantrum."

  A Valentine's Day he'd been too busy to celebrate with her.

  Had he come to her with flowers and kisses a few months ago, she might have been swayed. She might have apologized for causing him so much pain. She inwardly cringed knowing she might even have been grateful for his offer to forgive her. But now he was too late. Her heart, though bruised by his nearness, was no longer willing to make excuses for him.

  A million thoughts raced through her head in that moment; all the times she'd put aside her own plans to accommodate his, all the times he'd canceled last minute and left her alone. All the times he didn't tell her she was important, worth it, loved. She wanted to rage at him, to pour over his head all the poison he'd used to douse the fire that had once burned in her heart for him.

  But she didn't.

  "Excuse me, Mike. I'm kind of busy right now." She started to close her door, but he thrust his arm out to block it.

  "You're busy? What plans do you have, Julie? In your pajamas?" He pushed on the door, but she wedged her foot against it from the other side. He lowered his voice. "Stop pouting. It's not cute. Let me in."

  "I'm not pouting, Mike." Her voice no longer trembled. "I really am busy. Go home."

  "You're lying, and we both know it. Now let me in." He pushed a little harder, and Juliette saw something shift in his eyes. He was angry. Very angry. A chill went up her spine.

  "Go home, Mike." She said it more forcefully.

  "I'm not going anywhere, baby-doll." His voice became menacing. "Do you have any idea how much I had to pay for red tiger lilies in September?"

  "You need to leave right now!" She shoved the crimson flowers in his face, making him stumble backward. From the edge of her vision, she noticed her neighbor watching them from her own front porch. Mrs. Cork's little dog ran out to the lawn, barked a few times, then sauntered across into Juliette's yard, where it turned around three times and squatted. She slammed the door on Mike, his scarlet flowers, her scowling neighbor, and the defecating dog.

  For once, she was thankful for Mrs. Cork's nosiness. She knew Mike wouldn't try anything now that he had an audience. She ripped off the beige top, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it away. Even he thought her wardrobe was boring.

  "Tiger lilies are still in season, you creep. I hope that florist took you to the cleaners!"

  JULIETTE STARED AT the mirror, trying to see herself the way any man other than Mike would. She thought of all the things he used to love about her, from her long, black hair, her gray eyes, and slender neck, to her slightly turned out feet.

  "I look like a duck," she muttered. The woman who gazed back at her stood just under 5'6" and weighed just over her ideal weight. Mike always liked the extra pounds; maybe she should lose them to spite him. No, losing weight might make it look like she was pining away for him. Besides, she really didn't think it would be right to abandon Mr. Chen Yu or Mona, and she knew they'd be the first to go if she was going to drop a few pounds.

  She'd gone on a whirlwind shopping spree over her lunch break, and the long, empire-waist dress she wore looked good on her, she admitted to herself. The raspberry tones brought color to her pale cheeks, and the drape of the fabric made her feel feminine. She peered down at her toes sticking out below the ruffled hem, and smiled at the iridescent turquoise she'd painted them earlier this evening. Be bold, she told herself. Be daring. Do something stupid. Like actually going out with the first guy on The Monday Man-Date list.

  "I'm a chubby, pink, bold, and stupid duck," she declared. She flapped her way into the kitchen where she stubbed a turquoise toe on a chair as she passed her table.

  "Ouch! This is not a good sign." She sank into the offending chair and massaged her throbbing appendage. She wondered again what had gotten into her. This was not like her at all. She liked things organized, sensible, planned out. She didn't do well with change. She was not quick on her feet, and she inevitably made a fool of herself when put on the spot. She certainly wasn't bold. Or daring. And she didn't do stupid, if she could help it.

  Okay. Maybe waiting nearly ten years for Mike Wilson to make up his mind about her might fall under the "stupid" category, but she'd been fooled by him. She'd believed the years were gifts of time; time for them to plan and prepare, to sort everything out so they could step into their future with all the details taken care of in advance. She glanced through the arched opening to the living room where she could see a row of 3-ring binders, color-coded and labeled, lined up on the bottom shelf of her bookcase. She rolled her eyes. My well-planned life.

  One binder held all their wedding and honeymoon plans, another, their home plans. There was a binder filled with travel plans for future vacations, and the newest one was labeled Wilsonettes. In it, she collected pictures of babies from magazines, catalogs, and online, as if she ha
d choices when it came to how their offspring would turn out. She squirmed at the thought of Mike paging through it, but knew there was no way he'd ever seen it. Even though they'd only split up six months ago, his unexpected appearance last night was the first time he'd been to her place in over a year.

  She always went to him.

  She stood and shoved the chair back into place under her rectangular dining table. "He called, I went running." She clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides, her skin prickling with humiliation. "What is wrong with me? I'm such an idiot. I'm a chubby, pink, bold, stupid, idiot duck!" She charged into the living room, grabbed her purse off the floor, and dug down to the bottom where she knew there was a small clutch of make-up. Years ago, she used to wear lipstick, but Mike told her once that he didn't like kissing her when she wore it. She never knew whether it was because he didn't like the way it felt, or if he was afraid he'd end up with it on his lips instead. She just stopped wearing it. For him.

  "It took me a long time to get used to going naked-lipped, and you still didn't kiss me often enough," she railed. "Or long enough. Or sweetly enough." Her voice trailed off.

  "Enough! Put on your lips, Jules, and let's see what tonight has in store." She pulled the cap off the Burnished Plum, a slightly shimmery, somewhat dated color that she loved. It made her eyes look smoky, and it made her feel dressed up. It was amazing what a little lipstick and toenail polish could do for a girl.

  There was a knock at the door, and Juliette froze. Her doorbell didn't work and she'd hung a pretty lantern in front of it to keep people from using it, but tonight, the rap of knuckles on wood sounded rather ominous. She stared at her face in the mirror over the entry table, her eyes large and overly-bright, her skin translucent in the glow of the chandelier overhead. You can do this, Jules, you can. Bold and stupid, bold and stupid.

  "No, bold and daring!" She pressed her lips together gently and smoothed her hair away from her flushed cheeks.