Up & Out - Ariella Papa [68]
“I know, but Ron wants me to get back together with Tommy.”
“Just let me know. It’s Thursday night.”
“Okay.”
I have to admit, I’m not one of Ron’s biggest fans. I think he used to be a frat brother, the kind that usually wears a white baseball hat—a “white hatter,” and while there isn’t anything explicitly wrong with that, I worry that he has jerk tendencies he’s waiting to reveal. Kathy seems to be happy that she is settled down. I guess I expected Kathy to go for a long-haired, artistic type, the kind she always seemed to go for when we first moved to the city. Ron can be a little obnoxious to wait staff and I think that is a sure sign of a closet asshole.
Another thing about Ron is that he likes to talk during movies. He is also one of those people who announces what they think is going to happen, like they want everyone else in the living room or movie theater to be amazed at their deductive skills. I’ve watched enough videos at their place to know it’s a chronic thing. I don’t understand how Kathy can spend the rest of her life with a man who doesn’t take the moviegoing experience seriously. Luckily, I’ve only gone to the movies with him once.
In spite of what I think are shortcomings, Tommy and Ron always got along. They found common ground talking about sports and Batman. While I don’t think they would have chosen each other as friends if not for Kathy and me, they didn’t mind spending time together on double dates.
It’s important that friends’ boyfriends get along. I could tell that Kathy was secretly relieved when Lauryn and Jordan broke up because Ron and Jordan didn’t get along. Conversely, she was bummed when Tommy and I broke up because now she and Ron would have to invest their time getting to know someone else. I’m sure Seamus and Ron never would have liked each other. They both would have been trying to talk louder than the other. I can imagine them fighting over something like what ingredients were in the stew. So maybe in some ways it is for the best that it didn’t work out.
Tommy brings up the mail when he gets home. My mail has only just started to get forwarded and somehow that means that I have double bills. I’ve just missed the payment on my credit card. I stare at the bill from May, which includes all of my Nobu splurges, including the time I treated Seamus. He was so not worth it.
I am also going to pay for my stylish new glasses. I am never ever going to be out of debt. Now, more than ever, would be a good time to start job hunting. I know I should be placing those phone calls, but I just can’t motivate. This is not like me. I am (was!) a hardworking person, but I just feel exhausted. I just want some space, some something.
I write a check for the minimum payment on my credit card, knowing that I will see a late fee on my next statement. I feel completely helpless when it comes to paying my bills. If I could just put them in a drawer and forget them, I would. It almost seems like there’s nothing I can do to get out of debt. It seems insurmountable. It’s as if I’ve accepted debt and just continue to live the way I enjoy. But now I wonder if there will come a time when I will not even be able to afford the minimum payment. I suppose when the severance runs out.
Maybe I should get a sugar daddy….
“I thought you were unemployed,” Tommy says when I tell him about dinner. “It’s time to give up your vices.”
“Um, severance,” I say defiantly and a little bit snottily, but then realize I’m going to have to change my tactics if I want him to go with me. “I need to eat, you know.”
“Last time I checked there was plenty of food in the fridge.”
“It’s Restaurant Week. Dinner will be like thirty bucks.”
“Make it sixty at least with the wine Ron is going to insist on ordering. She’s your friend, why don’t you just go?”
“C’mon, you like Ron.”
“Rebecca,” he smiles. “I’m not your boyfriend anymore. I’m not required to like your friends’ boyfriends. I’m not required to spend time doing things I don’t want to do. I’m liberated.”
He thrusts his arms in the air and continues to shout “liberated