“Well.” Mom seemed skeptical. She knows about the oxytocin thing. “I don’t know. You’re not staying in now because of that silly news article, then, are you?”
“You mean the one accusing me of dating my best friend’s ex-boyfriend when my own boyfriend and I have barely been broken up a week?” I asked lightly. “Gee, no, why on earth would I let that bother me?”
“Mia.” Mom’s lips started getting thin, a sure sign she was unhappy with me. “You can’t let the fact that Michael is moving on with his life keep you from moving on with yours. Of course it’s important to mourn the loss, but—”
“WHAT LOSS? MAYBE MICHAEL HASN’T GOTTEN MY APOLOGY E-MAIL YET. FOR ALL WE KNOW, HE COULD BE OPENING HIS E-MAIL RIGHT NOW AND SEEING THAT I APOLOGIZED AND BE GETTING READY TO CALL TO TAKE ME BACK. ANY SECOND NOW.”
“Stop yelling,” Mom said. “Are you really feeling all right? You look a little peaked. Have you eaten anything today?”
“Um.” I wasn’t sure how to break it to her that I’d polished off all the lunch meat and the Canadian bacon she’d been saving for breakfast. There wasn’t a piece of meat left in the loft. Or any ice cream, either. And I’d also finished all the Girl Scout cookies. “Yes.”
“Well, if you’re sure you’re feeling all right and you’re going to stay here anyway,” Mom said, “Frank and I might head on over to the Angelika to see that new grunge rockumentary. Would you mind watching Rocky while we’re gone?”
“Sure,” I said. In lieu of smelling Michael’s neck, I figured I could use a few hours of Rocky’s favorite game, which involves pointing at various pieces in his Tonka collection and shouting “Tuck!” which means truck in Rocky-speak. It might relax me.
So now I’m here babysitting my brother.
If only the photographers from the New York Post could see me now. The glamorous life of America’s favorite princess: sitting on the living room floor with her baby brother, playing “Tuck” in her flannel Hello Kitty pajamas…
…while her heart slowly and irrevocably breaks.
Sunday, September 12, 10 a.m., the loft
Inbox: 0
Calls: 0
But I have an instant message!!!
Oh, it’s just from Tina. But I guess that’s better than nothing.
ILUVROMANCE: Hey, Mia!!!! Did he call?????
FTLOUIE: Not yet. But I’m sure I’ll hear soon. He’s probably still getting settled and all of that. He’ll call or write as soon as he gets a chance.
God, I sound so brave and strong, when inwardly, I’m quivering like a—I don’t even know what. Tiny quivering thing. WHY HASN’T HE CALLED????
ILUVROMANCE: Of course he will. Unless he saw that photo, I mean.
Okay, time to change the subject.
FTLOUIE: So how was the party????
ILUVROMANCE: The party was okay, I guess. Nothing too exciting happened. Kenny Showalter came over with a bunch of guys from his muay thai fighting class, and they all started doing shirtless handstand push-ups, and I guess Lilly was impressed by what she saw since she totally hooked up with one of them. And then Perin ate too many maraschino cherries and threw up in the bathroom sink and a lot of the cherries were still whole so Ling Su had to cut them up with scissors to get them to go down the drain. That’s about it. Like I said, you didn’t miss much.
FTLOUIE: Wait a minute. Lilly HOOKED UP with a GUY FROM KENNY SHOWALTER’S MUAY THAI FIGHTING CLASS?
ILUVROMANCE: Oh. Yeah. Well, I mean, Boris said he saw Lilly making out with some dude in the kitchen. But she threw a lobster pot holder at his head before he could get a good look at who it was. You know Boris is afraid of lobsters—
FTLOUIE: But it was definitely one of the muay thai fighters????
ILUVROMANCE: Yeah. Well, the guy wasn’t wearing a shirt, so it had to be.
FTLOUIE: But that’s just…that’s so wrong! I mean, she hasn’t even had a chance to recover from her heartbreak over J.P.! This is obviously just a rebound relationship! What does Lilly think she’s doing? Someone’s got to talk to her. Did you try talking to her????
ILUVROMANCE: Well…sort of. But she just laughed in my face and told me not to be such a—
FTLOUIE: Such a what? Such a WHAT?
ILUVROMANCE: Nothing. Mia, I have to go, my mom’s calling me. TTYL!
But the thing was, she didn’t have to say it. I know what Lilly told her.
Not to be such a Mia.
But there’s a REASON I worry so much about her. Sometimes Lilly makes really bad choices. And then she gets hurt.
And true, sometimes she makes good choices—like dating J.P.—and gets hurt anyway.
But making out with some random muay thai fighter in her kitchen just one day after breaking up with her boyfriend of six months?
I don’t see how that can be a good choice.
Someone’s got to talk to her, before she does something she regrets.
If Dr. Moscovitz didn’t completely hate me right now—for dumping her son, and then ALLEGEDLY dating her daughter’s boyfriend—I’d call her.
But given the current state of our relationship, that is probably not the wisest course of action.
Sunday, September 12, 11 a.m., the loft
Inbox: 0
But then my cell rang!
But it wasn’t Michael. It was just J.P.
J.P.: “Hey! How are you?”
It was kind of hard to hide my crushing disappointment.
Me: “Fine. You?”