…or, Good Humor Man
“Marlot?” I said as I made a beeline for her. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you were spending the night at Bobby’s.”
“Yeah,” Marlot said. “I also said that he was having some people over because his folks were out of town.”
That was when I looked at the guy next to her. Bobby. He was tall, like six foot five or six, with orange hair and freckles and a toothy grin. “Pumpkinesque” was the word that came to mind. Even with Marlot sitting on a tall stool, he still towered over her in a way that made me uncomfortable about her safety.
“Unbelievable,” I said. “You are freaking unbelievable.”
“And yet you believed me,” she said. “Whose fault is that?”
The people who’d been hanging out around them peeled away, wandering towards the coolers of drinks or just towards less awkward conversations. I didn’t much care.
“Now, Jamie, I know I seem like an awful liar, but if you go through everything I said step by step, I think you’ll find that everything I said to you was nothing but the literal truth,” she said.
“What about when you said you hadn’t made up your mind?” I asked. “Was that literally true?”
“No, that was an awful lie,” Marlot said. “Honestly, I don’t know why you ever listen to me. It only leads to heartbreak, confusion, and pain. If you had any sense at all, you would run from me, run as fast as you can. Or just walk briskly. Stroll, even. I am not that swift.”
The guy next to her—Bobby, I assumed—cackled at this.
“Man, you are a trip,” he said, draping a big arm over Marlot. “I love the way you do that. It’s hilarious.”
I liked the way she did it, too. Sometimes. But there was no reason to stop and point it out. Pointing the joke out was only one step away from explaining it.
“Honey, could you go get me a chair or something?” Marlot said to Bobby. “I feel like I’m going to topple over here.”
“Sure, babe,” Bobby said.
“And make me a gin and tonic with three ice cubes,” she said. “But make sure the corners of the ice cubes aren’t broken, or they’ll melt unevenly.”
“Uh, sure.” He waved to someone, or maybe everyone who’d just arrived, and then disappeared into the house.
“So, what do you think?” she asked me.
“About you or him?” I asked.
“Any time you want to talk about your feelings for me, I’m game,” Marlot said. “But, him.”
“Do you honestly need someone to sit there and tell you how funny you are? Honestly, Mar, we could probably have found someone to whip up a laugh track if that’s what you wanted.”
“I like knowing that my wit and humor are appreciated.”
“Do you not know that with me?” I asked. “I figured you did. I thought it went without saying since I hang out with you all the time. I never knew I was supposed to mail in consumer feedback forms or something after every conversation.”
“Don’t be mad,” she said.
“I’m not mad,” I said. “I’m confused.”
“You sound hurt.”
“Well, I am a little bit hurt,” I said. “I’m hurt that my friendship isn’t enough validation for you, and so you need someone who’s stupid enough to not realize you’re getting rid of him with your ridiculous ice cube specifications to pat you on the back and tell you that you’re very funny. You know I think you’re funny. Why isn’t that enough?”
“No, stupid will be when he stares at them for five minutes and then realizes they have the round kind,” she said. “Yes, it was obvious I was getting rid of him to talk to you. What’s he supposed to do? Come back early? Not if he still wants to do what he said he wants to do.”
“What exactly is that?”
“Snuggle under the covers and watch The Briarhawks,” she said. “If you ever ask me about my sex life because you really want to know, I’ll tell you. And I suppose you think I’m funny, but I don’t hear it very often.”
“I can tell you more often,” I said.
“Are you going to tell me that I’m pretty?” she said. “That I’m sexy? That you want me?”
“Marlot, you’re not the sexiest woman in the world but you shouldn’t feel like you have to—”
“Stop. Stop right there,” she said. “Who says I’m not the sexiest woman in the world? Some guys like bigger women.”
“Yeah, well, you can find guys who are into anything if you look hard enough,” I said.
“It’s not a ridiculous fetish, Jamie, it’s a personal preference,” she said, “and I’m trying really hard to give you the benefit of the doubt because I know you got a double dose of the cultural crap with your elven side.”
“You’re twisting my words,” I said. “I’m not saying—look, you’ve got a great personality and that’s what matters.”
“Yeah, Bobby thinks I have a great personality, too,” Marlot said. “He considers it a bonus.”
“You know what you’re doing? You’re trying to distract me from the fact that you tricked me,” I said. “Why didn’t you just tell me that this was Bobby’s house, since you knew I was coming?”
“I didn’t know you were coming, doofus,” she said. “Since you sat there vacillating and waffling and other funny-sounding verbs about it. I couldn’t tell you that it was Bobby’s house without telling you that I was definitely going to be here, and I really wanted to see if you’d come on your own. You did, and I’m glad. I hope you have fun, and I’d like to know what you think of my boyfriend.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I honestly don’t have an opinion yet.”
“Well, maybe you should spend some time with him.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Probably. But you should have given me a little warning. I don’t think it’s a good idea to just jam us together and see what happens.”
“I think some of your fans would disagree,” Marlot said. “Speaking of which, did I see you on Lonnie’s arm a minute ago?”
“She was on my arm,” I said.
“And now she’s being carried towards the swimming pool on several arms,” Marlot said, pointing. There was a long and irregular shaped swimming pool in the yard, just on the other side of the low deck. Four guys were carrying a laughing and shrieking Iolana towards the water.
“She doesn’t even have a bathing suit,” I said. I didn’t want to know what the water would do to the paper-thin batik sundress she was wearing. Well, I did. I didn’t want everybody else to know it.
“So? She doesn’t have a bra, either, but I don’t see that holding her back any,” Marlot said.
