"Shit. I'm having a stroke. Feel my pulse. Does it feel weird to you?" I asked, thrusting my arm out to her.
Liz smacked my hand away. "For f**k's sake, Claire, get a grip."
"Carter. His name is Carter. And he has no idea who I am," I whined.
Fuck, I hate whiney girls. I'm turning into an insecure, whiny girl. I'm going to have to kick my own ass. Liz bent down in front of the oven and took a peek at the lasagna cooking inside. She stood back up and crossed her arms in front of her chest, leaning her hip against the front of the oven.
"You think you have it bad? That f**ktard Drew thinks he slept with me. I can see it in his eyes. He's trying to remember if he knows what I look like naked. Like I would ever let my lady bits near someone who wears an "I pooped today" shirt. He doesn't even remember hitting on me that night or how close he was to having c**k and balls permanently drawn on his face. I wonder if he remembers the hex I put on his dumb stick? He really believed I was a witch that night. What an idiot."
"Really Liz? You're comparing the fact that a guy doesn't remember telling you he'd make out with you because you had nice tits to my sperm-donor'ing one-night-stand sitting twenty feet away and not know who the f**k I am? Really? Is that what you're doing right now because I just want to make sure I understand this correctly and didn't accidentally hit a bong full of bad crack on the way over that I don't know about," I ranted.
Liz rolled her eyes at me. "Jesus, Cranky VonHyperAss, simmer down."
I put my hands on my hips and gave her my best "I'm gonna f**k you up look".
"Okay, so this isn't the most ideal situation for meeting back up with your baby daddy, I'll give you that. But it's done. He's here and there's nothing we can do about it now. After all these years of wondering, you finally know who he is so you can tell him about Gavin. So pull up your big-girl thongs and get your ass out there."
We stared at each other blankly for a moment.
"I know what you were going for with that but it didn't work so well," I told her.
"Yeah, I realized that as soon as I said it. Next time I'll just stick with big-girl panties."
I started pacing back and forth across the kitchen.
"What are the f**king odds, Liz? First, he shows up in the bar out of the clear blue and now he's here. In your house. And he's talking to me like I'm some new chick he just met that he wants to get to know."
"Well, technically, you are some new chick he just met," she said with a shrug, like it was no big deal. "I know we wondered last night if he just didn't recognize you because he was drunker than Mel Gibson when he called his wife a pig in heat, but I think it's safe to say, he really doesn't remember who you are. It’s time to face facts, Claire. Your vagina just isn’t that memorable."
“Fuck you,” I mumbled.
“Not tonight dear, I’ve got a headache.”
It wasn't her fault she could be so nonchalant about this whole thing. I never really told her just how much I actually thought about him over the years. She had no idea how much that man sitting out in her living room had occupied my thoughts and dreams. In all the scenarios I made up in my head about someday finding him, they always began the same way. He remembered me and everything about that night immediately and apologized for never trying to find me. We would kiss in the rain, jump hand-in-hand together into a pool and ride horses together along the beach.
Or maybe I've seen one too many tampon commercials.
Seeing him again, knowing that he had no clue about the night we spent together, sucked big time. Especially since I was raising a reminder of that night and had to think about it every time I looked at my son.
"How am I supposed to even begin telling him about Gavin when he has no idea who I am? He is never going to believe me. He’s going to think I’m some nut job who’s looking for child support,” I stopped my pacing and moved to stand next to Liz by the oven.
"Not necessarily. Jim didn’t realize who Drew was until just before you got here when I dragged him into the kitchen, but he knew immediately who Carter was. Said he talked all about you this afternoon when they were at the bar. He knew right away when the poor guy mentioned something about you smelling like chocolate."
I stopped my manic pacing and stared at her. My heart started beating furiously again.
"What?!"
"I guess he told Jim about a girl, and I quote," she paused and brought her hands up to make air quotes. "That he met at a frat party and how he's thought about her for five years. Jim didn't get a chance to elaborate on what all was said because you chose that moment to walk into the house telling everyone about your neglected vagina and two-pump-chump Max."
"Fucking hell," I whispered.
"That's why Jim invited them over. I didn't have a chance to tell him that we saw Carter last night at the bar so he had no idea until our kitchen pow-wow.”
He DID remember me! Well, not me-me, but the 'me' from that night. The 'me' he met at the party. The ‘me’ whose virginity he took.
I need to stop saying 'me'.
"A little advanced notice would have been nice. You know there's this nifty little gadget called a cell phone right?" I complained.
"Oh, shut the f**k up. I was just as surprised as you were. They got here right before you did and Jim had all of thirty seconds to blurt out what was going on while we hung up their coats," she argued as she pulled plates down out of the cupboard.