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I glare at her.
“Oh. Never mind. You mean the other kind.” She slinks down behind the seat again in shame.
“I don’t know what to do,” I say. “My heart is bleeding. He joined the Army. He almost lost his leg. He came home and his mom died. Oh—! And I knew his mom!”
Melanie squints. “How did you know his mom?”
“She was my English Lit teacher in high school. She made me read Gatsby and now I’m fucking her son.”
“Aww, that’s cute,” Trix says behind me.
Melanie nods. “It is kinda poetic.”
I hold my face in my hands. “He’s so pretty and smart and sexy and his story is so sad and depressing buthe’s so pretty and I don’t know what to do.”
“See, now,” Melanie’s face screws up, “I’d like to help you, Nor, but I don’t understand the problem…”
“Yeah.” Trix talks with her mouth full of popcorn. “It sounds like you and your patriotic vagina already got this one.”
Melanie snaps her fingers. “Nora Payne and the Chick Lit Clit Cadet.”
“Good one!” Trix flicks a thumbs-up.
“Thank you.”
I fall into the armchair beside Melanie’s desk. “The problem is that I’m really starting to feel things for this guy.”
“Oh, no,” Melanie says, completely deadpan. “You’re falling for an attractive guy who seems to really like you. How dare you.”
“I just mean…” I sit forward. “I want to help him but I don’t know how to do that without it seeming like I pity him.”
“Pfft!” Trix snorts. “Fuck that. If we were men, do you think we’d all be sitting around wondering whether or not your mistress thinks her new diamond necklace makes her feel pitied?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Do you think our mighty man-penises give a flying fuck about her and her dainty masculinity?”
I look at Melanie. “How much wine did you let her have?”
She tilts her head. “Girl has a point, though.”
“Nora…”Trix scolds me. “This man should bow down to your womanly altar. He should thank his lucky stars you allow him to be in your heavenly presence at all. He should accept your generosity with style and grace and...” She takes a breath. “I should lie down.”
She disappears behind the couch again.
Melanie clears her throat. “What Beatrix here is trying to say is that Sugar Mama got the goods, and if Daddy wants those goods, then Daddy better put up.” She glances at the couch. “Right?”
Trix’s thumb shoots up again. “That’ll do.”
I sigh. “I got the goods, huh?”
Melanie nods. “Ya really do. And I get it, I do. I used to wonder the same thing about Robbie, remember?”
I think back. “Yeah.”
“In the end, it was a non-issue because any hang-ups he may have had over me being the breadwinner were vastly outweighed by how proud he was of me for my successes.” She shakes her head. “If Clive’s insecurity about his failures means more to him than being proud of you and sharing your successes then I don’t think this relationship can go much further.”
“You’re right,” I say, nodding. “You’re totally right. If spoiling him makes both of us feel good, then I shouldn’t feel bad about that.”
