Takeout

Tano says I should order my own fucking takeout if I can't make up my mind until he's done dialing. Tano says every time I go in the kitchen, I get salt on the floor.

I tell him I'm premenstrual.

"Well, you don't have to get the salt on the floor," he says.

"No," I say, "I'm sad. Everything I do annoys you. There is a direct relationship between how much you love someone and how much they annoy you."

"I told you," he says, "I don't love you."

"Look," I say, "it even annoys you when I tell you I annoy you."

When I get out of the shower, Tano comes to watch, because he knows I'm going to be dripping everywhere and he hates that I get everything wet. Have I mentioned that the first time Madlyn took a shower at Tano's, she dried herself completely before she came out?

The last time I kissed the married man, the time in his car, was 15 minutes before he told me he had to stop fucking me because of his kids ("and besides, I don't give a shit about you"), which was five minutes before he smashed the car ahead of him and I left him, right there, and walked home.

As I drip my way out the bathroom door, Tano steps aside with two magazines in his hand. I tell him he needs to put the magazines down and act like he loves me, but he says he needs to browse. He needs to browse a little every day because it's ancillary information that drives him.

Eclairs | Another | Passover | Home