A Toast to Starry Nights (20 page)

“I don't give a shit what he calls me.
But to do that at a party without deliberate provocation is fucked up. What did
I say to him to set him off? Jesus, I learned my lesson from that misery of a
mistletoe-decked party. I've been behaving, dammit. Can I go chug a beer? No. I
have to behave. See the things I do for you, Kaylis? You say behave, so I
behave and yet Trouble finds me. My deodorant must be magnetic or something.
Want to sniff my pits and tell me if I'm attracting assholes?”

“What exactly did you say to his
girlfriend at the Christmas party?” Inquiring minds want to know.

Jet rolled her eyes and leaned back
against the cement counter top. With a sigh and her arms crossed over her
chest, she spoke, “I told her she needed to take the stick out of her ass and
live a little because Heaven isn't in the clouds when one dies, its here on
Earth as we live. We make our own Heaven. She disagreed with me and we ended up
talking Biblical scholars and evidently Bible Thumpers hate it when Atheists
know more about ancient writings from early saints than they do. Why is it that
people assume the Church advocated for celibacy from the get-go? Don't they
know it was Saint Augustine that said celibacy makes for a stronger faith in
God?”

She sighed. “And people wonder why I
hold organized faith as hokum. The sheeple who supposedly know more than me
don't even know why their saints got canonized in the first place. And her, in
particular... incredibly ignorant. She told me I was going to burn on the
Devil's pitchfork, that I was a tool of Satan for informing her of the
knowledge springing forth from her religion. Can you imagine? Resorting to
petty name calling when one loses a debate? Shit, it was like tolerance
training for political hopefuls. She was such a tight ass that if he stuck a
lump of coal up her ass during foreplay, by the time she managed to fake an
orgasm, she'd pop out a diamond.”

Oh.

I guess that stick up her ass was
actually a diamond probe.

Jet continued on, “He never entered the
conversation. Not once. In no way, shape or form. I don't know what his problem
is with me. I only dropped knowledge on her... don't know why it hurt him.” Jet
looked truly baffled as to why Wiley would try to rip her head off and shit
down the stump of her neck.

I debated for a nanosecond before
telling Jet what I knew of the situation after the Infamous Yuletide
Festivities. “Like two weeks after the Christmas party, she cheated on him.
Ended up moving in with the fling. Wiley was going to propose to her on
Valentines. He already had the ring and everything. He's still upset at that.”
To put it mildly.

“Well, then I did them both a favor. She
got spared from a misogynistic asshole and he got away from a hypocrite who was
both ignorant and intolerant. Could you imagine the freakazoid they would breed
in their eagerness to fulfill tradition?” She faked a shudder. “I have done
society a favor. I saved the world from a hypocritedemic.”

In a way, I felt bad for Wiley. Cheaters
suck-- I could understand his angst on that level alone. And I didn't think Jet
making light of the situation helped. Although Wiley's ex didn't make a great
impression on us all, who are we to dictate whom Wiley would be happy with?
Then again, I consider myself a romantic at heart which I consider my own personal
bias. “That may be, but that doesn't nullify his anger. He loved her. And if
you told her to extract the stick from her ass, and then he asks you if the
stick has been removed from his ass.... one could easily grasp the conversation
they had, don't you think?”

Jet shrugged her shoulders and tilted
her head to the side. “Maybe. But I'm not the reason she cheated on him. That's
on her. It was her choice. He cannot blame me for that... I never said she
should cheat. Just live a little. How much you wanna bet if that's the bug up
his ass, he's been wanting to grudge-fuck me ever since? I can see it
happening. Scuzzy bastard.”

“Well, obviously something got lost in
translation. Chill out for a while in here, I'll see what Dmitri has next on
the agenda. Get on my laptop and watch scampering ferrets on YouTube or
something. Let's see if we can get this little wrinkle smoothed out before the
finale.” I hate drama. It wasn't welcome on this day or invited to this party.

Although I am proud to say that at least
Jet didn't poke her finger into Wiley's chest. She doesn't need an “assaulting
an officer” on her record, if she doesn't have one on there already.

With her, you really can't tell.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath
before venturing out to the backyard. The wall of heat from late summer sun hit
my body as soon as I slid the sliding glass door open enough to pass through.
Made my way back to Dmitri and Wiley to discuss this lovely turn of event.
Although Dmitri smiled, it didn't reach his eyes. Wiley looked a tad calmer
than before, and when he saw my expression, frowned and looked away.

Good.

As I neared, Wiley spoke low to me. “I
didn't mean to go off like that.”

“I figured as much, because I've never
heard you talk like that. I'm astounded, Mr. Boldton. For shame. Such things
out of your mouth are truly shocking.” With a sarcastic sigh, I continued.
“Most horrible of all is that my best friend is truly bewildered as to why
you'd verbally attack her, impugn her honor in addition to making a scene at an
engagement party. Best Man isn't a suggestion, Wiley. Jet has been trying hard
to behave today because she learned her lesson already at Christmas.”

“I don't know what about her rubs me the
wrong way, and I am sorry.” Wiley did sound genuinely contrite. I softened my
demeanor towards him.

“You know, there's speculation as to why
you blew your gasket... and its not me you should apologize to... you didn't
insinuate I was a diseased whore.” I shook my head like a disappointed mom.
“You don't have to like her, Wiley. But please don't pick fights. Or call
names. Like, not until the marriage license is signed and filed. After that, we
can sell tickets for the showdown between you and Jet. I'll do some tee-shirts
to commemorate such a battle.”

Wiley lifted his hand to show me that
the pint of beer was now replaced with a bottle of water. “I know I should, but
I don't want to apologize to her.”

“Why?” I couldn't resist asking.

Dmitri butted in. “This is that picking
up of the shovel thing I told you about, Wiley. Kay won't quit until she's
satisfied.”

“I don't want to apologize to someone I
consider catty and bitchy.”

“Cats learn to defend themselves from a
young age and dogs are loyal.”

Wiley shook his head in apparent
disbelief of my statement. “Of course you'll defend her, she's your friend.”

“I defended you against her when I was
inside a bit ago. And for the record, when I first met Jet, I thought she was a
stuck up uber-cunt from Hell.”

Dammit, why did I not think to have my
camera ready for his reaction to my choice words? Bug eyes and a dropped jaw.
Dmitri laughed.

“Miss Woods, I dare say you take my
breath away with your colorful language!” Gotta admit, Wiley does a better
impression of an offended Southern Belle than myself. “Why did you consider her
a bitch when you met her?”

“Same reason you do. She's abrasive,
loud-mouthed and flippant about sacred topics. A know-it-all who will tell you
straight up why you are wrong... I dreaded having to work with her on a project
because I saw how she spoke to others.” The Then Jet was a Grade A Bitch of the
Highest Order. High Priestess of Bitchatude. The Now Jet is a much more cuddly
and sweet incarnation of attitude. “But I got over myself and found a
wavelength that I could surf with her.”

The cosmos brought the SheWench and I
together-- well, a lunar eclipse that I didn't want to miss and made my
frustration evident when it happened to fall on a school night – night class
did have downfalls, after all. To compliment the celestial awesomeness, a
meteor shower. I eyeballed the clock in the warehouse of a classroom only to
mumble under my breath, which Jet snarked a reply that resulted with us both
laughing at the idiocy of screenprinting on a hot night when the ink sets up
too fast and clogs the screen. We both got kicked out that night for the
classroom-disrupting gigglefit we couldn't quell. Didn't matter, we still got
to see the celestial show.

Thus our friendship formed.

“I don't think there exists a wavelength
that she and I could meet on. Ever. That gal is a taco short of a combo plate.”

So be it. Stubborn male. “All I'm asking
for is no name calling or fighting at nuptial related social gatherings. Is
that too much to ask? She'll behave if you behave. And she's not that bad...
Jet and Dmitri get along just fine.”

Wiley closed his golden eyes and sighed
deeply. “I suppose I can apologize for saying crude things about her.”

“In front of people at a party.” I think
he forgot that part.

Dmitri added, “In front of people at his
best friend's engagement party.”

“Fuck you, Dmitri. I already said I was
going to apologize to her.”

“Temper, temper, Yotie.”

“In your ear with the fucking, Dmitri.
In your ear. And stop smiling.”

“Yotie?” Never heard Wiley referred to
that before.

Dmitri grinned even more. “Yeah, Yotie.
Like in Wile E. Coyote... always losing ground and getting himself in trouble
before he knows it. Feet too fast for his brain. Or mouth, as the case may be.”

I smiled wide, glad to have gotten
things somewhat worked out before Jet had any idea I pledged her good behavior
to someone she'd gut with a dessert spoon.

Ah, to life's wee adventures which keeps
one on their toes!

Chapter Fourteen-

A week passed already?

I sat in my Jeep, musing that it really
had been seven days since I found myself parked in front of the shrink's office
and mildly irked that my mother's coercing worked-- probably better than she
intended. With a hand on the keys resting in the ignition, I pondered what this
session with Neilsinhaur would hold.

Each step out of the parking lot and
toward his office brought forth memories from last night’s homework.

More of the thump-thumping and
heartbreaking sobs that only got louder the closer I came to the bottom. Ended
up attempting sleep on the couch because I couldn't relax enough to not wake up
Dmitri for the umpteenth time with my relentless tossing and turning.

I wasn't sure I wanted to go through
that door one step below in the depths of my mind. What was it? Violence?
Tragedy? Misery, undoubtedly. Could I go all my days without witnessing what
could be a contrived imagining? Oh yes. Could I go all my days knowing I
chickened out on something that was only in my mind? Oh hell no.

I wasn't sure I wanted to go through the
plate glass door into Neilsinhaur's office with the intention of exploring a
past life. The fact that Willow liked the mindfucks also put me on red alert.
My mother is the poster child for bad ideas. Was this one of them? Did I really
want to find out?

As I paused before the door emblazoned
with the good doctor's name, I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart. I
think it was not knowing what to expect that had me on edge with the
combination of a week's worth of shit for sleep. That does tend to make one
cranky, after all.

After clearing my lungs, I went forth.
The blonde receptionist dressed today in a sapphire blue sari-style skirt and
short blouse. A diaphanous silk scarf wrapped around her waist to go over her
shoulder to her head, like a silken hood. Indian style clothing is elegant, I
must admit. Embroidery and skillful weaving brought forth a pouring of
admiration from the artist in me. Can't lie, the color and cut appealed very
much. I filed it away in my mind as inspiration for colorful nuptial fun.

When I caught the receptionist's eye,
she pressed her palms together at chest level with a slight bow to her head.
“Namaste
.”

Okie dokie. Be well to you too.

“I have a four o'clock appointment with
Dr. Neilsinhaur.” I scheduled it later being that I wouldn't have to see Willow
as she left her weekly appointment. The thought of a Star Trek infused pep talk
held even less allure than usual today.

“Ah, Kaylis! Good to see you again.”
Neilsinhaur’s voice came from behind.

I turned around to face him. Today, a
periwinkle button up and black slacks. Black polished loafers. “Likewise.” What
else could I say? Gee, glad I can pay you to make me cry like a baby again?

“Are you ready?” His cocoa brown eyes
looked straight through me.

I nodded.

Yippy skippy. Let the headgames begin.
Ole!

Neilsinhaur led me to a different room
than the one we used last week. This must be the Forest Room Willow spoke of in
awe.

Three dark ecru walls wrapped around the
room, with the last wall possessing a painted mural of a heavily wooded
mountainside. Boulders emerged here and there, lichen-covered and half-hidden.
Facing the painted wall, a wing-backed recliner in muted earth tones. Behind
that and off towards the left side, a matching chair and side table. Spartan in
decor yet welcoming in a polite, quiet, lemme-skullfuck-you-oh-so-gently kind of
way.