Page 68 of Man Hands
“You know…” Ash looks thoughtful. “He should have told you this story before. It’s not just about the sex tape for him. You’re helping to paper over this train wreck, and you didn’t evenknowit.”
“It’s fine,” I insist. “Tom’s a great guy. I’m happy to love him. Forpretend,” I addquickly.
Ash’s eyebrows do that crazy thing where they angle toward you in a sinister way. “Pretend,huh?”
“Totally,”Ilie.
* * *
That night,I rub my fondue-filled belly as I toss and turn in bed. I have more than mixed emotions. I have churning emotions. A vortex of emotions, swimming with a school of hungry piranha. Whatever. You know whatImean.
I have to teach my first classes tomorrow afternoon, and my metaphors are clearly out of control, and I can’t seem to care. I’m focused exclusivelyonTom.
I’m mad at Tom for not telling me about Chandra, but I also empathize with him. How awful to redo a house for the love of your life (ouch) and then have her not love you back?Publicly. Ugh, the humiliation. On TV. Live. She was about as warm as a metal pole outside inFebruary.
It killed me to see the hope onhisface.
That’s the part that makes me feel so ill—all that love emanating from him. He was like a little boy looking up at her expectantly, like she could make his wishes come true. She could be his safe place, when it was so clear that’s what heneeded.
When he proposed to me, he didn’t get down on his knee. He looked at me and smiled. Itfeltso real. It felt more real than his real proposal on TV, where he asked Chandra to be part of his tool belt. I mean, what was that?Thatfelt scripted. And odd. And now I’m confused all overagain.
Piranha emotions. That’s a thing. That’s me right now. I’m confused and I have a belly full of wine and melted cheese and I want to get rid of all of these jumbled thoughts. I have a job, though, so that’s something. That’s something I shouldfocuson.
I will focus on that. Tomorrow.Probably.
Which is why it makes no sense that I reach my hand out to grab my phone and send a quick texttoTom.
ME: Sooo…I got that job. Great,right?
ME: And good luck with the shoottomorrow.
(Pause)
ME: I made fondue but I’m sure Canada does itbetter.
ME: Canada does everythingbetter.
(Longer pause, and then I think,fuck itand type thenexttext.)
ME: Imissyou.
ME:Forreal.
Then I turnoff my phone and fall into a deep, deepsleep.
37Once More WithFeeling
Tom
“Once more,”the director says. “Really sell it to me. And…action!” The little whippersnapper snaps the clapperagain.
I hate this guy for making me say the same shit four times already. But the only way out is through, so I do it anyway. “It won’t be easy,” I say, looking right at camera four. “How special do you think we can make this place in forty-eight hours? Special enough for six couples who areBetrothed?”
“And…cut! Let’s have one more take, where you angle those abs toward theviewer.”
I always wondered what it would feel like to really lose my mind, and now I know. It feels exactlylikethis.
There’s a certain kind of energy on a film set—people scurrying around with lights and equipment. The chaos of combining filming with actual construction. I should be loving every minute of this. Iusedto love every minute of this, and then something changed, and I can’t quite figure out when thathappened.
