“I’m sorry. I was only kidding. Really. I didn’t mean it like that. You don’t seem vulnerable. Maybe you should behave more like it, but you don’t,” he said.
“Wait…I should?”
“Hell, yeah. You invite a stranger…a man to your house? A suicidal stranger. I know you can’t stop thinking about that part. Look at me. I’m not all there up here, apparently,” he said, pointing to his head. “I could be anyone.”
“And so could I.”
“Yeah, but it’s different and you know it.”
“Okay, so…want to arm-wrestle?” she asked, squinting.
(The blue mood of the room flashes and catches the light. Prism-quick.)
They got on the floor, cross-legged, with the coffee table between them. She put her elbow on the wood.
“Drunk arm wrestling,” he said.
“You expected something else entirely when you woke up this morning.”
His eyes still burned from crying, his temples throbbed.
“I did,” he said. “And I’m left-handed, so you have the advantage here.”
“Yes, a southpaw. I noticed,” she said, grabbing his hand. “I should warn you that I can handle myself.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
He wrapped his hand around hers, the pales of their wrists kissed. Tallie counted to three. He put up a decent fight before letting her win, and she knew it. She didn’t say it, but he knew she knew. She stayed there on the floor and so did he. Quietly, they watched the Giants pitcher retire another batter and another before winning the game.
So it was official.
He’d wait.
When Tallie said she was getting sleepy, she showed him how to unlock the front door if he needed to get out for fresh air. Told him he was welcome to anything in the kitchen.
“I have lots of snacks,” she said, pointing to the pantry. “And I’ll toss your clothes in the dryer.”
“Thank you. And is it okay if I use your computer if I promise not to nose around?” he asked. Her slim laptop sat on the coffee table—a glowing silver island on that cherrywood ocean.
“Of course. Feel free,” she said. “Good night, Emmett.”
“Good night, Tallie.”
Emmett watched her walk down the hallway, go into the laundry room, then her bedroom, and close the door. He listened for the click of the lock. When he heard it, he opened her computer and broke his promise.
Tallie was logged in to her ex-husband’s Facebook account for stalking purposes, like she’d said. Joel had to know Tallie stayed logged in, snooped around. Probably wanted her to. Emmett clicked through Joel’s messages first. Found some from Tallie. Her profile pic was of her with Jim the cat held next to her face. She had her hair pulled on top of her head; her lips were a cranberry red. She looked pretty. Her full smile wasn’t a total surprise like some other people’s. It was natural, as if her face preferred it to frowning. He liked that she wasn’t one of those people whose profile pics didn’t look like them, the people who used all sorts of filters and camera-angle tricks to lie to the world. Tallie looked like Tallie.
Emmett had finished his glass of wine and was drunk enough to stop drinking. He was now in a happily tipsy state he would live in, if possible. He made himself more comfortable on the couch. Tallie had also given him a new pack of boxer shorts and a cozy, thick navy-blue cardigan sweater that Joel had never worn. Still had the tags on it. She’d taken a small pair of gold stork scissors from the kitchen drawer and cut them off. He loved it on his arms, so heavy and warm. He snuggled into it more, put his feet up on the coffee table, the laptop screen robot-glowing his face as he read Joel’s messages. The most recent one from Tallie was written over the summer.
last call. if there’s anything else still in the house you need, just let me know. there’s a box of books and some of your old albums. i’m donating this stuff to goodwill if i don’t hear from you. there’s nothing left to say i guess.
Joel had responded:
You can give it to Goodwill. I have everything I need. And I know this is weird, awful, etc. I’ve told you it was never my intent to hurt you and trust me, I know it sounds like a load of real bullshit. I’ve asked you to forgive me, knowing how huge, undeserved and probably impossible it is. You can message me anytime you want. Odette doesn’t mind and even if she did, I wouldn’t. I don’t mean that in a nasty way. She’s fine. We’re fine. I still care about you. It doesn’t matter if I’m in Montana or that we’re not married anymore.
He clicked back to Joel’s profile, enlarged his photo. It was of him, a woman tagged as Odette, and their new baby girl. Odette had her head on his shoulder. The baby was sleeping. Joel was looking straight into the camera, and Emmett had no opinion of his face. Joel could be anyone. He scrolled through Odette’s profile, finding photos of her pert face alone, with friends, with Joel. Photos of her pregnant and smiling, photos of her holding the baby. Odette seemed so different from Tallie. He imagined Joel would’ve had to split himself in two to ever love them both.
Emmett decided against googling Tallulah Clark to let the mystery of her play out by itself. Maybe he’d google her on his way to the bridge, find out he’d spent the night with a wacko who pretended to be normal but regularly posted to dark conspiracy theory message boards using her real name. And she wouldn’t find him online. Since he wasn’t on social media, there was nothing for her to discover if she attempted to look him up, which he was sure she’d done already. Would’ve been the smart, reasonable thing for a woman to do.
Emmett opened an incognito browser tab, created an entirely new email account. He tried to think of something Tallie would choose. Looked around the living room, minimized the browser, and checked out her desktop photo. It was of Jim and Pam sleeping on the couch he was sitting on. He maximized the browser window, chose the new email name.
Talliecat. He heard it chime in his head like the chorus of the Grateful Dead’s “China Cat Sunflower.” He’d need to add some numbers, too, just in case it was already taken. He glanced at the DVDs on the shelf beside him: all the James Bond movies in a neat row, in order. Talliecat007. Password: Thur$dayOctober2nine.
He went to Facebook again, found Tallie’s profile photo, and saved it to the desktop. Uploaded it so it would show up as her photo with her new email address. He got Joel’s email address from his profile, copied and pasted it into the recipient box.
From: [email protected]
Subject: i still care about you too
hey joel, this is my new personal email address. starting fresh. i’ve been thinking about your last message and obviously i still care about you too. and thanks for letting me know it’s okay to write…when or if i need to. it’s weird not being married to you anymore. you’re montana joel. a father. you have a baby and a ponytail!
Emmett laughed at this part. He couldn’t help it. He put his finger to his lips and shushed his drunken self, which made him laugh harder. He turned to look at Tallie’s locked bedroom door, wondered if she was asleep. He walked down the hallway quietly and listened. Heard nothing but his clothes in the dryer, tumbling hot. Getting back to the email, he wrote: so i’m open to talking.