Boy Meets Girl

Journal of Kate Mackenzie

Oh my God! This is HORRIBLE!!!! I was right! I was right! About his lips, I mean! They are VERY strong!

This is AWFUL. His lips are so strong, I am practically melting into the couch. Oh, WHY did I kiss him? WHY WHY WHY???? I do NOT need to be falling in love right now—particularly not with a lawyer!

It’s all my fault, though. We were just enjoying our braised pears in chocolate sauce when suddenly something, I don’t know what, came over me. I think it was when he was talking about his nieces and how he was teaching them to speak Japanese (for instance, thatbacca means “stupid”) and one of them asked how Japanese people could understand each other when they were all speaking this foreign language, and then one said to the other, “Because they were BORN speaking it, ya bacca!”

And something inside of me just snapped, and I HAD to jump on him and start kissing him, I just had to, Praying Mantis be damned!

And oh my God, he looked so surprised. But kind of happy, too.

And I was right. I was SO right. He has really, really strong lips, and he kisses like he means it, and we must have been kissing for like half an hour, because all the ice cream melted. But that’s not all that melted, because I swear to God I think I am now one with my control-top panty hose, which I had to wear because the dress I borrowed from Dolly is so tight my stomach was pooching out in front, and now I think got so hot from all the kissing that my skin has become grafted to the Lycra, and thank God Mitch excused himself when he did, or there might possibly have been a small thermal nuclear reaction in the vicinity of my crotch, and now if I can just peel these stupid things off without him coming back while I’m doing it, maybe he won’t ever know I was wearing control-top hose in the first place.

Where did he go, anyway? Oh my God, what if he left because he knows it’s wrong to be getting involved like this with an unemployed homeless person? Even though he does keep insisting that he’s going to get me my job back. Only I don’t know how, it’s not like I’m in a union like Mrs. Lopez and can sue the company for not giving me written warning or anything.

But excuse me, he makes a living—or used to, anyway, defending society’s rejects. Who is HE to look down on a person just because she happens to be unemployed—thanks entirely to HIM, by the way?

Wait—what if that’s not why he excused himself at all? What if he excused himself because of the Praying Mantis? What if I jumped on him before he got a chance to explain that he and the Praying Mantis are engaged?

Well, screw her. I don’t condone boyfriend-stealing, but goddammit, you can’t make braised pears for a girl and expect her to—

NO! God! What is WRONG with me? I do NOT want to be in a relationship right now.

WAIT! What if he went to go get a condom? Is that what guys do? I mean Dale never did because we were each other’s first and onlies—well, until tonight, maybe—and who knows what is going on with him and that Vivica girl—

And besides, I’m on the Pill.

But this is different, this is two adults in the big city, not high-school kids fooling around in the back of the boy’s mom’s Chevette. Should I have said something, like, “Don’t worry, I have protection,” since I do, in my purse?

But maybe the girl isn’t supposed to say that. Maybe that’s, like, slutty. Maybe I should have just reached casually down and brought out the pack—

MAYBE I SHOULD JUST LEAVE!!!!!!!!!! Because, seriously, where is this going to go? I moved to New York to HELP people, how can I possibly have a relationship with someone who—

But public defenders help people, don’t they?

Except he’s not a public defender anymore, he’s—oh, God—