Just North of Whoville by Turiskylie, Joyce (mobi ebook reader TXT) 📕

If nothing else, the car door had opened on a half-day off work so I jumped in. Well, I jumped into a pile of wet towels and dirty laundry, but it had been a while since I’d actually seen the bottom of the laundry basket, so I figured I’d take advantage of the free time.

As I carried my laundry down the stairs, I saw Nate walking up them.

“Dorrie?”

“Hey! Nate,” I said as I peered over my overflowing bag of towels and unmentionables. “Are you looking for Alex? Because he’s at work…”

“Actually, I just wanted to leave these for you,” he said as he handed me a large envelope. “I had to stop by anyway, and was going to leave it in front of the door.”

“Your plays?” I said, trying to maneuver my laundry bag.

“Yeah. Just a couple of one acts. I didn’t want to scare you off with a full-length,” he laughed. “If you don’t have time, you don’t have to read them…”

“No, I’d love to read them. Thank you. I read the adaptation you did for the show.”

“Oh, well, that’s just… I wish I could do something more exciting with that, but… This is more what I really do.”

It felt like a moment. Call me crazy, but it felt like we were having a little moment. It wasn’t exactly an open car door, but somehow we’d cracked a window. Halfway down the landing, an apartment door downstairs opened and a young couple kissed in the doorway. So now we had an uncomfortable moment. Made even more uncomfortable by Nate saying:

“Alex?”

The woman shut the door and Alex stood there with lipstick all over his face. As I stood there holding a dirty sock, I had to process a lot of information pretty quickly. With The Building Manager right next to me, I realized that I was supposed to be the cheated-on girlfriend. I tried to think back to my college improv class.

“Alex!” I said with what I felt was the appropriate amount of disbelief, hurt, and rage.

“Um…” he stood there. Someone had to break the silence.

“How could you do this to me?” I cried out and nodded my head in the direction of Nate, hoping and praying he would pick up the cue.

“It’s not what you think,” he pulled out that old chestnut.

“Oh, really. Then what is it?”

“Um….do you really want to talk about this now?” he said as he nodded towards Nate.

“No. I suppose not,” I said like a character in a Noel Coward play. And then I turned my head down and away. A gesture so old it had whiskers; but I’m a director, not an actress.

The three of us just stood there. I clearly recognized that I was the meat in a cheating sandwich. I had to take an attitude. What attitude was I supposed to take? I decided to stick with Noel Coward and announced, “I think it best if you don’t come home tonight.”

Unfortunately, my Noel Coward comedy was playing off his National Lampoon.

“Soooo…I shouldn’t come ‘home’ tonight? Or ‘home’ tonight?”

Oh no. He was going to blow it.

“Just as I said. I think it best you don’t come home tonight,” I said, and tried to find common ground with a Monty Python nod towards the fifth floor. God, just pick up your cue. Pick up your cue!

“All right,” he finally replied with a lowered head in the Shame Number Two pose. “I’ll get a hotel tonight.”

Then, with his tail between his legs, he crawled down the stairs.

“Dorrie,” Nate said as he put his hand on my shoulder, “I’m really sorry. Do you want to get coffee or something?”

I finally get a cute, nice guy to ask me out for coffee and it’s to talk about my imaginary cheating boyfriend.

“That’s okay,” I answered. As much as I would have loved to share a coffee, it didn’t seem right to keep dragging on the farce. “I’ll be fine.”

And I would be---as soon as I had it out with Alex.

I think now is a good time to say that I never particularly cared for Alex. I thought Celia could do better. I always found him a bit smarmy, tasteless, and I’m gonna go ahead and say it---cheap.

Which is why I was not in the least surprised that when I called for a meeting, he suggested the White Castle.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I whispered as we stood in line looking at the menu on the wall. Why I was whispering the word “fuck” in a White Castle I had no idea. People were yelling it all around me.

“Please don’t tell Celia,” he begged from behind his dark sunglasses.

“What is going on? You’re engaged!”

“I know. There’s nothing going on. It’s…do you want some onion rings or something?”

“No. I don’t want onion rings,” I said in my lowest, slowest register and added my withering, disapproving look I’ve been told I do so well.

“Look---Tanya and I have known each other for a few years now. I mean, I used to live upstairs.”

“So…what? She’s an ex?”

“No. Sort of. Maybe.”

“She’s your booty call.”

“She’s a nice girl.”

“But you’re having sex with her.”

“Well…yeah. On and off, though.”

“Goddamnit, Alex.”

“It’s a White Castle. You don’t have to whisper your swear words.”

But I continued to whisper. Because I’m a nice person.

“You have messed up on so many levels I don’t even know where to start.”

“But you’re going to.”

“Damn right I am. First of all, you’re cheating on my friend, which I think makes you a royal piece of shit. Secondly, you’ve fucked me over. Right in front of the building manager. He thinks we’re breaking up now. Where am I going to go?”

“I guess you’ll just have