Psychos: A White Girl Problems Book (8 page)

I
spent most of the following morning and afternoon crying about being alone/not having any real friends. Luckily, rehab taught me that the only cure for disillusionment/doubt/ depression is making a consciously positive and productive decision. Jackson called it Moving Energy Toward Happiness (METH). So I devised a plan to walk around the hotel looking like I was about to go for a hike until I ran into someone I knew. I needed to connect with someone in the world who wasn’t in my inner circle. Someone who would ask me a bunch of vague questions to which I could respond with vague answers. Someone who would believe me when I told them that I was doing really well and that I was so happy and that things were really, really good.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the window’s reflection as I
walked toward the closet. I looked awful, but the kind of awful that actually makes you look amazing. Like when an actress is supposed to look strung out and disgusting in a movie but she just ends up looking strung out and chic. My eyes were massive and glassy from all of the cry-therapy I’d been doing, my hair was perfectly disheveled, and my skin was kabuki white. I had to be seen in this state. So, I quickly found some Pierre Hardy sneakers that said “Yes, I’m going for a hike, and yes, these are made out of snakeskin” and headed out the door.

I took the elevator to the lobby and walked out to the winding pathways that led to the garden and upper bungalows. I circled around them, and walked down to the pool, hung out there for a few minutes, and started back up the path toward the lobby. I almost tripped over my shoelaces, which would have been really embarrassing because I don’t fall. Ever. As I bent down to re-tie my shoe, I heard a familiar voice.

“No way.”

I slowly lifted my head to see Robert standing above me.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I said. I finished tying my shoe, got up, and started walking briskly toward the hotel lobby, pushing past him. I wanted to be seen, but not by fucking Robert.

“Wait, Babe—”

“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I won’t. I can’t. I won’t. Stop. Stop. Stop. Won’t. Can’t. Never. Never. Never. I am peace!”

He followed me through the winding garden pathways and finally grabbed my arm, spinning me around to face him.

“Get off me!” I shouted. “What are you doing here? Trying to ruin my life again? Because I’m trying to be healthy. I’m hiking.”

“Can I just say one thing—”

“Can I just say one thing?!”

I might’ve been yelling. A maid carrying a stack of towels to one of the villas looked scared. I lowered my voice. “I’ve come to terms with the fact that we are never ever ever getting back together. I’m over us and us is over me. You’re engaged, Robert. Those are the facts. When you keep popping back into my life, it fucks everything up. So just move on! Go back to New York.”

Then he grabbed my face and kissed me. I let myself make out with him for 0.5 seconds before pulling away.

“No. Nope. No. I refuse to be the Glenn Close to your Michael Douglas. Good-bye forever.” I turned and started walking away.

“Babe, I broke it off with Michelle. I’ve been staying in LA because things in New York are totally fucked. It’s a mess, but I just couldn’t do it.”

“So, what you’re saying is . . . you’re not engaged?”

“No.”

“So, you are engaged? Jesus, Robert. Fuck you and fuck this.”

“No! I meant
no
as in I’m not engaged.”

“Oh . . . well, good. I feel like it would be really hard to spend the rest of your life with someone named Michelle, anyway. Just saying.”

He laughed. “Babe, I can’t stop thinking about you. I was
trying to figure out how to get in touch, but I didn’t know how—”

I didn’t let Robert finish. I walked right up to him and kissed him hard on the mouth. When I pulled away, I looked into his eyes and I could see how much pain he was in. Our lives were miserable without each other, so there was only one thing we could do: fuck each other to death.

Smash-cut to Robert and me in his cottage tearing into each other. I pulled off his heather-gray suit jacket and ripped open his starched white Dior Homme button-down (this season), hungrily kissing his chest and neck. Then, without breaking eye contact, I pulled his pants down and gave him the most intense blow job I’d ever given anyone in my life. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be with someone whom I actually cared about. I wanted to please Robert and I also wanted him to know how much I loved him. His face was twisted in ecstasy. Suddenly he backed away; his gaze was smoldering, animalistic. I swear he growled as he threw me on the bed and began removing my clothes while kissing every inch of my body and teasing me with his hands. We knew each other’s bodies so well that we were able to skip all of the bullshit guesswork that usually goes into these kinds of passionate encounters. He was so diligent about leaving no inch of me untouched. Even though I was writhing in anticipation of what was to follow, Robert was setting the pace and I was loving every second. This was definitely burning more calories than “hiking” around the Chateau.

The moment he finally pushed himself inside me, my eyes filled with tears of pure bliss. I was happy. I was peace. I was Babe Walker: the love of Robert’s life.

For the next three hours we did nothing but laugh, drink huge, huge, huge glass bottles of Acqua Panna, and whisper “I’ve missed you” into each other’s faces. So many nights in rehab were spent fantasizing about getting back together with Robert. How he would smell. How he would kiss. How it would feel to run my fingers over his chest. How his huge fucking hands made my arms feel tiny. But this, right now at Chateau, this exceeded all of my expectations, because it was real.

Afterward, as I nestled into Robert’s chest, I saw our entire future flash before my eyes: the wedding, the house, the kid(s), eternity. We were in Hawaii, I was wearing a simple Calvin Klein wedding gown, Robert was wearing a puka-shell necklace, my hair was crimped, we were both barefoot, my French bulldog, Martin, was the ring bearer, and my miniature Italian greyhounds, Milan and Paris, were my maids of honor. There were hot-pink roses everywhere, my dad was crying, Mabinty was beaming with happiness and clearly stoned. Robert recited John Mayer’s “Your Body Is a Wonderland” as part of his vows. I sang Seal’s “Kissed by a Rose” as part of mine. Everyone was crying. It was beautiful.

Wait a second,
I thought.
John Mayer? Roses? I hate singing. Who is this person? What is this wedding fantasy?
And then it hit me: I was crossing over to the dark side.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Robert, kissing the top of my head.

“You know . . . just, like, thinking about us.”

“I know. I am too. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Daddy.”

“Ha-ha, what?”

“Nothing. Hey?” I said, looking up into his trusting gaze.

“Hey,” he said, smiling.

“Hey,” I said, smiling back.

“Hey,” he said back to me again.

Do something to show Robert how un-psycho you can be.

“Want me to toss your salad?”

Robert laughed, blissfully unaware that he was in the midst of a living demon.

“Babe, no. I want you. Come here,” he said softly, trying to pull me toward him for a kiss.

“Nooooo, I don’t think so, mister.” I grinned, coyly walking my fingers down his happy trail. “I want to go down south.”

Let me just clarify that I’m a total power bottom when it comes to anal play, and if the tables were turned and it was Robert wanting to toss my salad I totally would have let him, because it’s the best thing ever. But I had zero interest in seeing Robert’s asshole. Being the giver and not the receiver was clearly Babette’s fantasy, not mine.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Shhhh.” I placed a finger over Robert’s lips. “I would never joke about something as intimate as this. Now just lay back and try not to clench.”

He grabbed my shoulders.

“Babe. No thank you.”

“Ugh, FINE! Forget it. Forget everything!” I shouted, getting up from the bed and pulling on my underwear. I turned around to face him. “Are you even attracted to me?”

“What are you talking about?” Robert looked exasperated.
“Of course I’m attracted to you. We just made love for two hours.”

“Then why won’t you let me give you this gift?!” I demanded. “This is what future husbands and wives do for each other. Don’t you want to marry me someday?”

As soon as I said that, I saw all the color leave Robert’s face. This had spiraled completely out of control. All I was trying to do was tell him how much I loved him, but no matter how badly I wanted the right words to come out of my mouth, it was impossible to formulate a sentence that wasn’t drenched in crazed desperation.

“I bet you let Michelle toss your salad,” I muttered under my breath.

“What was that?”

“I said, I bet you let Michelle get all up in that ass of yours.”

“Jesus! Babe, this isn’t funny.”

“Oh, I’m not joking. Maybe we should just call Michelle and she can come over here and give you a rim job because you’re clearly still in love with her.”

“I am not in love with Michelle.”

“Well, then are you in love with me? Because I’m in love with you.”

“Babe. I’ve always been in love with you.”

We stared at each other in silence. This would have been the perfect moment to both start laughing and forget about this weird slip-up/fight. But Babette had something else in mind. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join Robert and Babe in holy matrimony—”

“What are you doing?”

“We’re in love, so I’m marrying us. I’m an ordained minister.”

“You are not.”

“I am too. I got my ordination online when I was eighteen so I could officiate Roman’s wedding someday. I married a dog couple at rehab. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me continue without rudely interrupting me.”

The light had disappeared from behind Robert’s eyes, and he now looked as if he was physically in pain. He got up and started getting dressed.

“Babe,” he said, “I know you’ve transitioned into Babette or whatever, but I hope you can hear what I’m saying to you right now. I’ve got to get out of here because I can’t stand seeing you like this. My presence will only make it worse.”

He started hastily packing his suitcase.

“I’ll talk to you soon. Call your shrink. I’ll check in with you tomorrow. I love you, but I can’t stand seeing you this way. It’s too dangerous for both of us. Bye for now, Babe.” He kissed me quickly on the forehead, then was gone.

Side note: From this point on, I will refer to Babette in the third person, as none of the following actions are a true representation of who I am as a human being or who anyone should be.

Babette traipsed barefoot around Chateau in a robe for hours, asking staff and guests if they had seen “her husband.” When she eventually gave up and returned to Robert’s room, she called room service and proceeded to order what can only be referred to as Babette’s Feast.

She ordered twelve liters of Diet Sprite, a bucket of ice, one bottle of Gran Maracame Tequila Platino, six liters of fresh-squeezed lime juice, the charcuterie board, a few of the heirloom tomato salads, and six side orders of mac and cheese, but requested that they be served in wineglasses.

And that was just breakfast. A few hours later, she rang room service again and ordered three of the bacon-wrapped bourbon apples, a half order of deviled eggs, and seven orders
of the basil-soaked radishes, but instead of radishes she asked that they just do basil-soaked basil. She topped it off with two orders of roast chicken and a bin of deep-fried spinach. All of which she inhaled like a starving kidnapee. She was in such an animalistic fit that she barely cut the chicken, she just stabbed them with large steak knives and ate them like Popsicles. Sick, greasy, poultry Popsicles.

Then it was time for a text break.

Babette 4:30PM
Hey Rob.

Babette 4:31PM
Real dick move leaving me alone in a hotel room.

Babette 4:32PM
What if someone tries to rape me? What if I’ve ALREADY been raped? Think about that for a sec.

Babette 4:33PM
Are you thinking about it?

Babette 4:36PM
Whatever.

Babette 4:40PM
It doesn’t even matter.

Babette 4:42PM
I’m fine.

Babette 4:45PM
Heartbroken but fine.

Babette 4:58PM
Devastated but fine.

Babette 5:02PM
Do you even care?

Babette 5:24PM
What if I had been raped just now but I wasn’t telling u?

Babette 5:30PM
jk was def not raped LOL

Babette 5:36PM
I have a perfect vagina so I’ll be able to get another bf asap

Babette 5:37PM
Go back to fugly Michelle

Babette 5:37PM
I’ll bet u call her meesh

Babette 5:38PM
gross