Love from Amanda to Zoey

by Ian Mark

  “I got it!” He had undone the top two buttons of his light purple button-down and it was half untucked. I pointed out the issue, and he rectified it by pulling out the other half.

  “What did you get?” I asked after thirty seconds of silence while I waited for him to continue. I sipped the drink I had taken from him. It was a deep blue. It tasted like lime and vodka. Mainly like vodka. “What is this?”

  “It’s called an adios, motherfucker.” How classy, I thought to myself. “We should have a party. I’m gonna throw you guys a party.” I knew he would decide in a few days, if he even remembered this conversation, that it was best to throw said party at my apartment.

  “What for?” I took another sip, then decided I didn’t feel like saying goodbye to any Oedipus wannabes quite yet, and placed the drink on the fake wooden table.

  “It can be a celebration of your birthday, Zoey graduating and getting a job, and a chance for us all to meet her.” I considered it. My birthday was the next weekend. I was turning twenty-five. I shuddered at the idea that I had been on this planet for a quarter of a century.

  “It’s a good thing I’m not a musician.” Kevin frowned at me, confused. “I’d only have a few years left.” He didn’t get it. Zoey would have.

  “Is that a yes?” I thought about all my friends meeting Zoey. It was time, I decided. I grabbed the glass and raised it.

  “Let’s do it.” Kevin cheered. Randy came and sat down. “Where’s Murph?” He nodded to the corner, where Murph was intertwined with a purple-haired girl who, I noted with some foreboding, had spikes on her belt and boots. “Excellent selection,” I commented. We all laughed. We drank the night away. They all got laid. I checked my phone when I got home. Nothing.

  * * *

  “My friends are throwing us a party.” Zoey rolled over in bed to face me. We were at my place. I had only been to her apartment twice. She preferred coming here. I didn’t mind.

  “Oh yeah, for what?” She didn’t open her eyes. I had almost sexed her to sleep. I was proud.

  “To celebrate you graduating and my birthday, but it’s mainly just an excuse to come over and drink at my apartment. Plus, they don’t believe you are real.” She opened her eyes.

  “So many questions. Were you planning on telling me your birthday was coming up? When is it?” She hit my chest playfully.

  “It’s Saturday. I didn’t really know how to bring it up. I was hoping you’d see on Facebook.” She started playing with my chest hair.

  “I love how well we communicate. Now, about them not believing I’m real? Do you have a habit of getting Te’o’d?” I laughed.

  “No, Lenny, I don’t.” She rested her head on my chest, I put a hand on her head and stroked her hair.

  “Lastly, why will they throw a party at your apartment if it’s for you?” She walked her fingers down towards my waist.

  “It’s what Kevin always does. He claims it’ll be at his place, then he calls the day before to say the landlord won’t let him or some other such nonsense.” Her fingers completed their journey. I kissed the top of her head. We didn’t talk again about anything but positions and angles for an hour.

  “Do you feel old?” she asked me later that day. She was washing her hands in the sink. “No, not really. After all, I’m nowhere near as old as you.” She had turned twenty-five the week before I met her. She laughed. “Well, my elderly wisdom tells me you will start to feel old about a day or two after you turn twenty-five. Right about when you realize you are closer to thirty than twenty.” I was quiet. She was right. I was an adult now. I shuddered and turned on the television. Spongebob was on. I sat down to watch. Zoey grabbed an apple and sat on the recliner. We watched mindlessly, laughing at the jokes for kids more than the ones for adults.

  * * *

  I only saw Zoey one more time before my birthday. She showed up at 1:00 in the morning on Tuesday, to celebrate her getting a job with some defense company. We fucked to commemorate her newfound love of warfare and murder. Kevin called on Thursday to say he was so so sorry, but could we possibly have the party on Saturday at my place? I said sure and hung up.

  The day of, I woke up and went out to buy beer. Kevin had given me a couple hundred in cash he had collected from Murph, Randy, and Louie. I suspected my mother had chipped in as well, because she called to inform me she had a lovely conversation with Kevin, and to remind me of the dangers of binge drinking.

  “Oh, and happy birthday,” she said right before she hung up. Randy texted me to say he had a very special birthday present for me. I wondered if it was acid or peyote. I knew it wouldn’t be cocaine. I realized with a start that I hadn’t thought about Brian in a few days. It was the first time since his death that I hadn’t thought of him at least once in a day. I wished he would have been able to be there, to meet Zoey. I was becoming more and more sure that I had moved into stage two. I imagined proposing to Zoey. I went out to get a slice of pizza for lunch.

  As I walked, I examined my fellow inhabitants of the city. I had made it here, I realized. I had a good job and a great girlfriend. My friends were throwing me a party. I could make it anywhere, I postulated, but I didn’t want to make it anywhere else. I breathed in that unique smell of urine, body odor, and halal food that you can only find in a big city. I considered the usefulness of the oxford comma.

  I passed the street vendors. Fake gucci, faker watches, and fakest smiles. The middle aged Muslim men jostled with one another for position as I walked past. I shook my head at each of them. I decided to walk to Chinatown for some dumplings. When I reached Canal St, I paused and surveyed the crowd. So many people, each of them the star of their own stories. They were all weird, all complex, all insane individuals with wants and desires and hopes and dreams and secrets and shame. I entered the restaurant. It was a hole-in-the-wall. There were no tables, just a line to order and a line to pick up your food. I waited patiently. The woman in front of me couldn’t decide. She had short bushy black hair and was wearing an army jacket. She scratched her head.

  “What you want?” A short young Chinese man stood on the other side of the counter. I wondered about his life. Get up, spend all day serving tourists and businessmen, clean up and go home to get ready to do it all again the next day. His impatience was understandable. I made sure to have my order ready. I rehearsed saying it as the woman in front of me stuttered. I placed my order calmly and the man nodded at me. I wondered if he was married, if he was dating, or if he was all alone. While I waited for my food I looked at each of the other patrons, and at all of the staff. How many of them were married? How many of them hadn’t found anyone? Worse, how many of them had married the wrong person? An old Chinese lady handed me my food in a plastic bag. I grabbed a spork from the cup on the counter. I asked for extra soy sauce. She threw me two packets. They bounced off my stomach and fell into the bag.

  I ate as I walked, careful not to spill any on my beige cardigan. My sense of style had returned, my desire to dress nicely for Zoey had cost me quite a bit of my promotion bonus money as I reacquired a nice wardrobe. The old one had taken me five years to build up, and I assembled a new one in two months. The hoodies lay forgotten in my closet.

  I passed a jewelry store as I finished my food. I walked over to an overflowing trash can and wedged the container in as best I could. I looked back. Couldn’t hurt to look, I told myself as I entered through the glass double doors.

  “Is there anything I can help you with today sir?” A tall attendant with graying hair and a salt and pepper mustache had approached me. I looked at him and thought for a second. I could get something for Zoey. Or I could get something else for her.

  “Sir?”

  “Yes, I’d like to look at… engagement rings.”

  “Congratulations, sir. Right this way.” He swept his arm towards a glass display at the back of the store. I started walking.

  “Don’t congratulate me yet. Anyone can ask. And I’m not sure I’m going to.”

  “Cold f
eet sir?” He was calm. I imagined he had had this very conversation many times before. I scanned his wrinkled fingers for a ring, but didn’t find one.

  “I suppose. How do you know?” He considered the question.

  “I wouldn’t ask me. I’m divorced, so apparently I didn’t know.” He walked behind the glass case. “See anything you like?”

  I examined the diamonds. They all looked the same to me. I examined the price tags. The differences were vast. I pointed to a cheaper, but not the cheapest, ring towards the bottom of the display.

  “I love her. But what if I wake up in a year and don’t? Or if she doesn’t love me?” He reached carefully between the more expensive and larger diamonds and picked out the ring I had selected. He handed it to me. I held it, unsure of what I was supposed to do with it. Surely he didn’t expect me to try it on?

  “If I could be frank with you, sir.” He lowered his voice and looked around for his boss. “It’s probably not worth the trouble. Most marriages these days end in divorce, and that can get ugly.”

  “Wow, what a wonderful sentiment.”

  “Hey, I’m just trying to save you a little money.” I thought of Zoey as she kissed me, Zoey as we snuggled and watched a movie in the dark, Zoey as she pondered what to order from a place we’d been to three times already. I was angered by his doubt.

  “I’ll take it.” I pulled out my card. “I’ll buy it. Does it come with a case?” He seemed taken aback, flustered. Or perhaps he had been playing me. Either way, I had made my decision.

  “Yes, yes of course.” He took the ring and my card from me and found a black case. He walked over to the register. I followed him, beginning to doubt myself. Was I really buying a ring to spite some man I’d never see again in my life? But he already had my card. I didn’t want to be rude. I considered the success of my mother’s efforts to socially condition me. I was so afraid of offending a stranger that I would spend a thousand dollars on a ring and propose to a girl I had only met three months ago. She’d be proud, I decided, mostly of herself but maybe a little of me too.

  My adversary rang me up. He swiped my card and handed it back to me.

  “Would you like a bag?” I wondered if I was buying an engagement ring or a loaf of bread and a quart of milk.

  “No, I’ll carry it.” I pocketed the ring. My khakis pressed it tight against my thigh. I was hyper aware of it. I exited the store and walked home. The sun beat down on me and I could feel my leg sweating where the ring was stuck. I took it out and held it. I wanted strangers on the street to see it, to know what I was going to do. I didn’t know when I was going to ask her, if I was going to ask her. I thought about where in my apartment I could keep it. Maybe I’d ask Kevin to hold on to it for me. I imagined being married to Zoey as I walked up the stairs of my apartment.

  The party “started” at 8:00. People started arriving around 9:00. Zoey had come over earlier to help me set up. This consisted of us putting out beers, chips and salsa, then fucking on the couch while The Departed played on the television in the background.

  “Are you a cawp?” I yelled while we got dressed. She put on tight dark blue jeans and a frilly revealing green top that matched her eyes. I put on khakis and a red and yellow rugby shirt.

  “I’m not a fucking cawp.” She went into the kitchen and got out a bottle of wine. I’d started keeping wine in the apartment because she didn’t like beer. I grabbed a beer from the cooler we had set out. It was cold. The mountains weren’t blue though. We sat and watched the rest of the movie. Just as Marky-Mark made everything right and headed off into the sunset, Kevin and Murph showed up. I introduced them to Zoey. She whispered loudly to me.

  “Are we sure they’re not fucking cawps?” Kevin frowned. He was from Cleveland.

  “Are you a cawp?” I stepped up to Murph, a fellow Bostonian. He jutted his chest out me.

  “I’m not a cawp.” We bumped chests. I retreated to Zoey, who was laughing. Kevin was confused, he looked at each of us.

  “It’s cool,” I said to Zoey. “He says he’s not a cawp.”

  “Well then I guess we should entrust him with all the tapes we made of us doing illegal things.” She leaned against me. I put my arm around her.

  “Sounds like a plan. You guys wanna drink? You paid for ‘em.” They nodded and I went off to grab beers for them. We made small talk when I came back. Zoey seemed a little nervous. More and more people arrived. Louie arrived, the girl with purple hair in tow. The two of them were the most bizarre couple. I imagined their kids having a mix of red and purple hair. Louie brought her over and introduced the group to her. I couldn’t stop looking at her lips, which were painted black. She glared at me. Zoey excused herself to go to the bathroom.

  “Don’t talk about me too much,” she called over her shoulder. We all laughed.

  As soon as she was out of earshot, the reviews began. They were mostly positive.

  “She’s cool, man.” Murph.

  “I like her. I can see why you like her so much. She is gorgeous.” Kevin said.

  “She seems to like you a lot too.” Louie said. I felt my back pocket where the ring was. I told myself not to make the same mistake I had with Amanda, to wait for a romantic moment alone.

  “I don’t like her.” Louie’s girl had spoken up. I paid attention to her voice for the first time. It was high-pitched, and had a sort of whine to it that reminded me of a hive of bees buzzing around.

  “I’m sorry, who are you again?” I was irritated. “Do you even know my name?”

  “Yes, you’re Zach. It’s your birthday.” She was defiant, her black lips pouted as she eyeballed me.

  “Sweetie, let’s go get something to drink.” Louie led her off.

  “What a bitch.” Zoey returned.

  “Do they like me?” she asked. Kevin and Murph laughed.

  “Not too much, they think you smell.” I giggled.

  “Very funny. What are you, about half a beer in?” She grabbed my can and took a sip. I heard the door burst open. It ricocheted off the wall and bounced back. A hand stopped it. Randy burst in. He was sweaty and out of breath. He ran over to me.

  “Happy birthday buddy! Ah, and this must be the woman we’ve heard so much about. She does have fantastic tits, you weren’t lying.” He said all this very fast while shaking my hand up and down.

  “Shut up,” I said. “I didn’t say that,” I added to Zoey.

  “Why? Are my tits not fantastic?” She pushed her chest up and looked down.

  “Yes, they are, it’s just-”

  “Anyways.” Randy spoke loudly. A few people looked over. He lowered his voice. “About that present I have for you.” I sighed. The big reveal.

  “Yes, what is it?” He put his arm around me and pulled me to him. He started to speak, then stopped. He looked around. I noticed he had pit stains on his checkered Henley. He reached into his chest pocket and removed a few tabs.

  “I have managed to procure for myself, you, and, if she so desires, your lady friend a few tabs of LSD. The good stuff too. Like what Ginsberg would have used.” Acid it was. I was glad it wasn’t peyote. I never knew anyone even still used peyote until Brian and Randy had showed up at my door a few years ago with it. That was a weird night. Every few months they’d get some more. I didn’t like it. Acid, on the other hand, was normally enjoyable. I’d only done it twice, once during freshman year with this sophomore girl I had slept with a few times, and once with Amanda and Brian a few weeks before he died. Well, not with Amanda. She had babysat, sipping on a glass of chardonnay while we deteriorated into two raving and ranting lunatics.

  I looked at Zoey. We hadn’t done anything harder than weed and alcohol together. She knew a little about my past with cocaine, mainly what I had told her about Brian. The ‘shrooms, acid, and peyote were another story. I wondered how she would react. She grinned mischievously.

  “First time for everything I guess.” She took a tab from Randy and popped it in her mouth before I could say anythin
g. I reached out a hand to grab her, but I was too slow. She looked at me. “You better have one too, I don’t want to trip alone.”

  Randy looked at her cleavage. “You can trip with me.” He raked his fingers through his greasy hair. “I’m Randy.”

  “Oh, give me one of those.” I grabbed a tab from Randy and popped it in my mouth. The familiar bitter taste filled my mouth, stronger than I remembered it. Randy ate the last tab. I let it melt on my tongue. Zoey clutched my arm. She jumped up and down excitedly.

  The party was decent at first. Everyone wanted to meet Zoey. It started to get weird after an hour or so. I felt the LSD start to take effect. I looked at Zoey, she seemed to be feeling it too. She sat on the couch staring at the ceiling. She rubbed her fingers on the pleather slowly. I went and sat next to her. She snuggled up next to me.

  “Do you see that?” I looked up. The plaster ceiling had scratches on it, sure, but I didn’t see anything remarkable. I rubbed my thumb and pointer finger together.

  “No, what do you see?” She looked at me. She seemed to think I was lying.

  “It looks like… candy bars are going to start falling from the ceiling.” I giggled. She looked hurt.

  “You’re tripping Zoey. All these people came to meet you and we’re going to sit on this couch tripping.” She giggled.

  “Oh no,” she sat up and suddenly looked serious. “What if they don’t like me?”

  “Shhh, they love you. They’re afraid I’m going to do something to mess it up. I’m afraid of that too.” I put my arm around her and stroked her bare skin with my thumb. She shivered.

  “Do you do that? I don’t want you to do that.” She looked like a small child when she turned to face me. I kissed her. She tasted like wildflowers on a calm spring day.

  “I don’t want to do that either.” She kissed me back and tried to straddle me. I pushed her off. “Don’t do that here, everyone is watching.”