Page 57 of The Good Guy on My Porch

“Sort of.”

“Well, that’s what it is. Once upon a time, little girls everywhere were indoctrinated with the idea that their role models should be pretty princesses who sat around looking pretty and waiting to be rescued by dashing men who had magical lips and could save them from death with a kiss. The little girls wore sparkly dresses and watched movies about these princesses and dreamed of their own princes coming to rescue them. Except, they grew up and they discovered there were no princes and men didn’t have magical lips. In fact, most men had no interest in rescuing them or in fairy tales. The men didn’t even care what the girls wanted, but the men loved the idea of the girls sitting around looking pretty and not complaining if the men wanted to play prince to several women at the same time. The little girls who’d grown up decided they never wanted their daughters to be given such flimsy role models. Based on what their daughters would face in the real world, their role models should be warriors, tough women who bowed to no one, so they took all the silly princess dresses and flung them into the sky and there they stay, to remind all the people that cartoon princesses and fairy tales belong among the stars and not on earth.”

The story reminded me of that prick who had hurt her with his open relationship. “Definitely a better constellation than the upside-down baseball cap. But I bet you’ve never heard about that constellation.” I pointed to the left. I didn’t even have a group of stars in mind, just a story. “The good guy.”

“Figures,” she said. “The one good guy in the universe is made of stars.”

I ignored her. “Once, many millennia ago, before people were even really people, but were still more gorilla than Homo sapiens, men used their strength and power to claim their women. The weak men stood little chance against their over-muscled Neanderthal brethren, but the ladies were getting tired of being dragged around by their hair. One day, a woman turned down a Neanderthal and decided to give a different kind of guy a chance. She’d played with him when they were children and had always liked him. He wasn’t a fan of the brutal way the other Neanderthals fought for the women and had consigned himself to a life of celibacy. He had a vision of a different kind of relationship, one where the man and woman respected each other as equals. A relationship based on love and not brute force. The woman spent some time with him and they fell in love.”

“I think that’s my favorite constellation.”

“I haven’t told you how he ended up as a star picture.”

“Oh,” she said, glumly. “This isn’t going to have a happy ending, is it?”

I’d imagined a funny, gory ending to my story, because that’s how constellation stories worked, but I hated the sadness in her voice. “The other Neanderthals insisted the good guy had to fight to keep the woman, but, though he was big and strong, he was a peaceful dude and had no wish to fight. He and the woman ran off to a beautiful, warm land far, far away and they built themselves the happiest of all lives. They had children and grew old together. And, when the man died, the woman threw his ashes to the sky and they stuck there, outlining his form in stars to remind all men of the value of being a good guy.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. I don’t think it worked, but it’s sweet.”

“I’m sure Jerome’s a good guy,” I said. “You wouldn’t date someone who wasn’t.” I hated bringing the guy into our moment, but I needed to know he was good to her.

“Sure. But life is never as simple as a constellation story, is it? A good guy deserves a woman who can give him everything, who isn’t a burden to him, who doesn’t have any baggage.”

“Everyone’s got baggage,” I said. “I’ve got a big family who shows up uninvited whenever they feel like it. If you can’t handle someone else’s baggage, you shouldn’t be in a relationship.”

“Some baggage is more than anyone should burden another person with.” She yawned.

“You’re exhausted. We should go.”

“Just tell me one more story.”

So, I told her about the cockroach reunion, because we all know that cockroaches never die, they float up into the universe and become stars. I was laughing at my own story when I realized Dilly wasn’t laughing. She was asleep on my shoulder, her breathing deep and even. My hilarious story had put her to sleep.

I planned wake her up, but, for the moment, I just wanted to lay there and have a few more moments to enjoy the feel of her in my arms. Just a few more moments turned into a few more and, soon, my eyes drifted shut. I’d rest. Just for a minute.

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