“Look, lady, I am through with you people. You either give me DSL like tomorrow—no, tonight, or I swear to God…” She wondered what was good enough. “Or else…” She got so frazzled and hung up.
Ferizon was like the worst company in the world. She had bitched out no fewer than ten employees and still had no DSL.
She was left with dial-up.
That fucking sucked ass.
“Mommy?”
Erin was startled when Joy came into the bedroom, holding Mr. Tethers, a very old stuffed animal. As preternaturally mature as her 11-year-old daughter was, she hung on to that nearly decapitated grizzly bear.
“Baby, are you okay?”
“What’s wrong? Are you mad at Daddy again?” Joy crawled into bed with her.
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. No, it wasn’t Daddy. It was Ferizon. They… never mind. Honey, I am sorry.”
“Is this because you can’t get DSL?”
Erin was a bit taken aback. “Kind of. Why?”
“I don’t know. You kept screaming, ‘You suck, you suck.’ I thought it was either Daddy or Ferizon. I’m glad it’s not Daddy.”
“It’s not Daddy. Sorry about screaming. It’s just—God, those people suck total ass! There. I’m done for the evening. No more screaming from Mommy. Is everything okay? How was school?”
“It was good.”
Joy curled deeper into her, pinching the nightgown against Erin’s breast. She winced but held on. It would all be over soon.
“You’re getting good grades in everything? You’re spending more time on all those subjects you aren’t doing well in?”
“Yes, Mother.”
She sighed, drifting asleep. Then she lifted her head. “Why don’t you get satellite. Or an iPhone?”
“We have too many trees for satellite. What the hell is an iPhone?”
Joy laughed. “You’re embarrassing.”
Joy never cared that they did not have cable and only had dial-up. She never watched anything but rented horror movies.
Erin thought about her daughter’s barb. What did that mean? Was she out of touch? Fuck me for living in a rural place that can barely get a phone signal. “Don’t you need the Internet for this iPhone thing?”
“It’s called a cellular network. Jesus.”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, goddammit.” Erin cracked herself up with that one. “Why didn’t they just call it MyPhone?”
“Because they didn’t.”
“What does the I stand for? Idiot?”
“No one knows.” Joy looked up and playfully pushed her mother’s shoulder. “If you get one, I swear to God, I better get one too. Or there will be hell to pay.”
“We’ll see. Maybe we can share.”
Joy rolled her eyes and lay her head on Erin’s shoulder.
Erin was lost in thought. Since Gerry had been gone, she felt desperate for the outside world. A thought nagged at her. Was Gerry the one who kept her isolated?
She thought about it more. He had kept her isolated. She willingly went along.
Fuck me.
Joy snored lightly.
Her breath smelled so nice. Kind of like the way she remembered her first kiss, Johnny something-or-another. All first memories were of Johnny something-or-another. She remembered how sweet and pure that smell was.
“Get up, baby. Mommy’s got some work.”
Joy lifted herself up and made her way through the door but ran into the doorjamb. She corrected her internal GPS, then shuffled down the hallway and into the light, Mr. Tethers’ head dragging on the carpet.
Erin knew she had just been a horrible mother, but all the times she had been a good one made up for it.
Tonight, she decided, was just for her.
Erin logged on to the Internet via dial-up and felt her frustration mount as the connection took forever. She couldn’t take this dial-up shit anymore. She would investigate this iPhone thingy. Probably a stupid fad, but worth a shot.
She finally made it to the website, which randomly appeared in sections.
After everything loaded, she typed in her username and entered her password, and there, before her, was the world she had been dreading and yet secretly waiting for.
There was nothing.
No knight in shining armor appeared with a blinking message saying, “Love me, love me.” Just a big, ugly screen featuring nothing but self-help bullshit.
This sucks.
At least at a bar, someone had to look away. Online, no one even had to notice.
She picked up her cell and called Midge. Midge had turned her on to Perfect Partner Search. Midge was a member and received several emails a week.
Midge was married.
She was, as usual, drunk.
“What do you think? You have to post something first. Make the first move. Don’t be such a pussy!” Midge was chopping something up. Vegetables? That couldn’t be good.
“So I should email a guy first?”
“Duh!”
“Midge, are you drunk?” Erin asked, knowing full well.
“No, why do you ask?” she said, full on slurring.
“You sound a bit funny.”
“It’s been a hard day.” She sighed. “Baby, are you okay?”
Erin wondered.
She wondered about many things.
How her Atkins diet was making her mouth taste off and her gas smell as if she harbored dead people inside. And how she had been so neglectful of Joy, even though she loved her so much. And how much she missed not so much the physical presence, but the idea of Gerry in her life.
And how desperate she was to find someone, even if she had to use the Internet to find him.
“I still want love to be possible,” Erin sighed.
“Gawd. You’re delirious,” Midge said, followed by a thump and an ear-splitting scream. BAM. The phone crashed to the ground.
The screaming went on for a bit. Erin heard George, Midge’s husband, rush into the room. “Dear God, what have you done?” was what she thought she heard. Midge must have run out of the room because her screaming was distant.
Erin thought perhaps she should hang up and try to call again, but listening was fascinating.
George must have seen the phone lying on the floor because after a second or two, Erin heard a scrape as he picked it up. “Hello?” he asked.
“Hi, George, it’s Erin.”
“Erin, baby. How are you?”
“I’m good. The bigger question is, how is Midge?”
“I’m not sure. From what I can tell, she nearly cut her finger off. I really should call the paramedics. You sure you’re okay, honey? You sound a bit down.”
Erin, weary now of everything, said she was fine. “Take care of Midge. I’ll talk to you later. Kissy, kissy.”
“Kissy, kissy,” said George.
“The long and short of it is… Jennifer, will you marry me?”
She gave him a cold, hard look.
Gerry wobbled on a knee planted on the concrete patio of her favorite Mexican restaurant.
That cold, hard look seemed to go on forever.
Gerry awkwardly tried to get the ring properly onto her finger. The ring he had bought on impulse on the way home from the casino. The ring that set him back four thousand dollars. On credit. The ring he thought was a workable solution to all his problems.
It didn’t fit properly. He’d never seen a skinny woman with such sausage-like fingers. It was a turn-off.
It didn’t matter. She was about to reject his offer. He hoped to God that she would. That way, he could return the ring.
That cold, hard look turned into something that reeked of “Inspired by Happiness.”
“Oh, babeeeeee!” she squealed.
The mariachi band came onto the patio with a burst of high-pitched, dissonant music, marking the joyful occasion of a couple becoming engaged.
He felt like a pig on a hook being drained of blood.
After a sloppy kiss, Jennifer went to curious diners to show off her new wedding ring. There were oohs from the women.
A few of the male diners looked at him, stuck on that knee, and shook their heads. Were they thinking, You poor bastard, you have no idea what you got yourself into?
Or could they see through the farce of what he had just done?
Gerry felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Javier, the restaurant’s host with a pencil-thin mustache. Javier helped him to his feet.
Gerry’s knee ached like a motherfucker. And the soreness of his finger was driving him insane with curiosity about when the disease would spread to his bloodstream and poison him with its toxins.
Perhaps he had decided to propose because he loved Jennifer and thought she would make him a wonderful wife.
She had her own money and was independent, and even though she wanted everything to seem picture-perfect, she never looked too deeply at anything. Therefore, he could get away with pretty much anything.
As long as she never, ever found out.
Sitting back at his table and eating a tortilla chip, Gerry realized the awful truth. He still loved Erin.
Even though the Erin he loved was encased in about fifty pounds of fat.
She should have known that he needed her.
She had, in fact, not returned his calls. She was too busy pursuing her “State of Moving On” bullshit.
She was neglecting him.
Typical.
That’s why he had to propose to Jennifer.
To wake Erin up and make her realize she was about to lose him for good if she didn’t step up and make a winner out of herself.
There was his fiancée, on his lap, all aglow and already planning. “You know it’s going to be a June wedding, and this ring will have to be upgraded… but you did something I never thought you could do, baby. You made me realize how much you truly love me!”
All that because of four words and a four-thousand-dollar ring.
That he bought on sale.
With Erin’s Zales account.
What is wrong with women?
He thought about what his cat, Mitzy, would have to say about that. He knew what she would say. “Look in the mirror, bitch.”
Mitzy was a cunt like that.
