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Counselor
Zelda sits in a restaurant in Los Gatos, the walls lined
with that Tuscan-looking plaster that may as well be constructed of dollar
signs. She nurses a glass of Chablis as she listens to a woman at the next
table speaking Mandarin. The woman’s sentences accelerate in the middle and end
on long, almost sung phrases. Zelda hopes that her makeup is doing its job.
Towering above her, all of a sudden, is Roxy Alameda, in a
navy blue knit dress. She smiles, and then stops.
“Zelda! What happened to your cheek?”
Zelda stands and gives Roxy a hug. They sit at the table.
Zelda gives an embarrassed smile.
“I was beating the snot out of my boyfriend, and…”
Roxy gasps. “Did he hit you?”
Zelda laughs, then touches her wound. “No. I was delivering
a left hook and I completely missed. My follow-through took my face directly
into his elbow.”
“Well what got you so angry that you were throwing punches?”
“We were having sex, and…”
Roxy waves her hands in front of her face. “W-w-wait a
minute. You were beating the shit out of Edward during sex? Why?”
“Because I fucking hate him.”
That’s the cue for the waitress to show up. Roxy smiles.
“I’ll have a Manhattan on the rocks.”
“Certainly.” Before parting, the waitress winks at Zelda.
“I’m probably on your side.”
“Thanks.”
Roxy watches her leave, then returns to Zelda. “Why do you
hate him?”
“Because I love him. Because he left me.”
“And… how long will this punishment continue?”
“As long as it takes.”
“That’s not how it works. Eventually you will have to
forgive him or leave him.”
“I’d rather stay and make him suffer. How does a man
disappear at the peak of a romance? A rare, beautiful romance.”
The waitress delivers Roxy’s drink. Roxy takes a sip and
sets it down.
“Ah, bourbon. I could take a bath in bourbon. I want a
pre-nup on this discussion.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. I want you to acknowledge that I know more about men
than you do.”
Zelda looks around the room. “It pains me to admit this,
but… Yes.”
“Okay then. Edward seems much more comfortable in his own
skin. And he has money now – correct?”
“Yes.”
She folds her fingers. “It’s difficult for a man to accept
love when he’s not feeling manly. I think he wanted to go off somewhere and get
his mojo back. He certainly seems more attractive to me. Do you have a problem with him finding success?”
“He won’t even tell me what he was doing those three years.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I was suffering
those three years. I want to know what I was suffering for.”
“Do you think he was selling drugs? Working as a hired
assassin? Get your head out of the moviehouse, honey. Maybe it involved lots of
ass-kissing, or degrading labor. Maybe he’s embarrassed.”
Zelda crosses her arms and stares at the table. “How do I
know he won’t disappear again?”
“He came back for you.”
“He came back for Jackson’s wedding.”
“Loyalty to a friend – yes, let’s condemn him for that, as
well. Do you want to be right, or do you want to be happy? I think you’re seeing
yourself as a prosecuting attorney, and believe me, you don’t want to be in
that position. And any man worth your time will not tolerate an eternal
cross-examination. Or a left hook.”
Zelda speaks to her Chablis. “Says the woman whose husband
was fucking around on her.”
Roxy leans forward, then stops, takes a breath, drinks her
Manhattan. “Yes. How do you think I know all this? I had a man go bad on me. I
conducted the cross-examination. For six months. Eventually, he confessed. I
realized I couldn’t forgive him, so I left him. That’s what I’m saying. This in-between crap is exactly what will
kill you. And tell me this, just a theory. I think you were indulging in a
lovely little Mother Teresa rescue mission, and I think Edward screwed up your
plans by growing a pair. Do you know how admirable it is for a man to go
through what he did and still want to do the work it takes to rebuild his
life?”
The waitress returns.
“Hi,” says Roxy, “I’ll have the mozzarella focaccia and baby
greens. Zelda?”
“Pot-stickers and chicken salad.”
The waitress picks up the menus. “I’ll have these in a few
minutes.”
“Thanks.”
They sit in silence. Roxy understands that Zelda is stewing
and is happy to let her do so. A minute later, Zelda mutters something.
“Pardon?” says Roxy.
“Now I hate you.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you. And because you’re right. Probably.”
“I’ll take it.” She indulges in a long sip of bourbon. “So
tell me, this hateful sex. Good?”
Zelda smiles.
“Yeah,” says Roxy. “I thought so.”
Photo by MJV
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