As the wheels of the plane touched down in Roanoke, Samantha said to Charity for the tenth time, “Don’t be mad at Jason. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I will be mad and you should be mad too. He left you.”
“No, he left all of us. He was supposed to meet us all for breakfast. I thought we agreed to give the man some grace on his anniversary.”
“You know good and well he really only wanted to see you. But he got scared, like a frightened rabbit, and he turned tail and ran. And just because it’s his anniversary doesn’t excuse him. I’m sorry for what happened to Jason, I really am,” said Charity. “But that doesn’t give him an excuse to hurt my girl. He never should have agreed to this weekend if he was going to do that.”
“That’s not fair,” said Sam.
“It is fair,” argued Charity. “You told him about Derek, right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then. He should know how it would make you feel if he left you. He has no excuse. He is a giant, stinky, female reproductive organ, and he is uninvited to my wedding.”
“You haven’t sent out invitations,” offered Jessica.
“That doesn’t matter. I was going to invite him. Now I’m not.”
“Listen,” pleaded Samantha. “He didn’t make me feel anything. I was upset when he didn’t show for breakfast, sure, but only for a minute. I’m fine now. I knew before the weekend started Jason and I had no chance. Nothing has changed. I didn’t go to Las Vegas to find a man, and I’m perfectly happy I didn’t.”
Jessica coughed from her seat behind Samantha, and the noise sounded an awful lot like the word “bullshit” muffled by her hand. Samantha turned and glared at her as the plane taxied slowly to the terminal.
“Whatever. Defend him if you want,” said Charity. “But if he was any sort of man, he wouldn’t have run off just because of a few lousy internet comments.”
“This is too rich,” said Sam. “When we left I was the one calling him a phony, and you guys were defending him. Now it’s the other way around.”
“I just call ’em like I see ’em,” said Charity. “Internet Jason is a lot better than the real thing.”
“I thought real-life Jason was pretty great,” said Samantha.
Charity made a gagging sound. “You’re just lucky it didn’t get any further than it did. If he runs off at the first little internet comment, he probably has no balls whatsoever to speak of. They’re probably the size of raisins. I would hate for you to have been disappointed if things got hot and heavy.”
“Or green ball peas,” said Jessica, sticking her hand between Charity’s and Samantha’s seats and holding her thumb and forefinger about a centimeter apart.
“Or marbles,” said Charity. “And not the big shooter ones either. The little tiny ones like in the hippo game.”
“First of all,” said Samantha loudly, “Jason probably has a perfectly normal set of testicles, and second, you know good and well the internet comments aren’t the real reason he left.” Several surrounding passengers giggled.
“So, why did he leave then, Sam? Tell me, why did the regular-sized-testicle-having Jason tuck his tail between his legs? Huh? Huh? Go ahead, tell me.”
Sam knew she was trapped. “Because he was…”
“He was what, Sam? Go on, say it. Say it.”
“He was scared because he thought we might be getting too close, and he was probably scared he was betraying Bethany.”
“That’s right,” gloated Charity, knowing she’d won. “And the key word in that sentence is scared. So, I don’t want to hear any more about the scared, little pussy Jason O’Neal, with his cute little RV and his sad purple flowers and his tiny marble-sized testicles. I’m done with him. If you want to watch his videos, fine. Knock yourself out. I don’t give a crap. Just don’t mention them to me.”
“What about me?” asked Jessica poking her head up between the seats. “Can I watch the videos?”
“I don’t know why you would,” said Charity.
“I’ll watch them with you, Sam,” said Jessica, nodding to Samantha.
“Well, then same goes for you, princess,” said Charity to Jessica. “I don’t want to hear about them.”
As they drove home from the airport, nothing was said about Jason O’Neal. When they reached Charity’s apartment, it was almost 10:00 p.m. Samantha pulled her suitcase out of Charity’s trunk, and the blonde came around the car beside her friend.
“Look,” Charity said, “I’m sorry I was so ugly about Jason earlier. I know it must be hard for him. But I just don’t want to see you hurt again.”
“I get it,” said Sam. “And I appreciate you looking out for me. You’ve always looked out for me, even in high school. But I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself.”
“I know,” said Charity. “I’m just afraid this might be the kind of thing that will send you running back to Derek.”
“That’s the thing,” said Samantha. “Spending this weekend with Jason has made me realize what a loser Derek actually was. Regardless of what happens in the future, there is no way on God’s green earth that I would ever get back with Derek. He could buy me flowers every day. He could beg me on his hands and knees. He could give me the Taj Mahal. I wouldn’t even listen to him. I’m done. We are through. I know that with complete certainty now.”
“Well, then I guess Jason did his job after all.”
“He did,” said Sam.
“But I still think he has marble testicles.”
Samantha just shook her head and tossed her suitcase into the back of her own dilapidated hatchback, which had spent the weekend parked at Charity’s place. “But how was the weekend otherwise?” she asked Charity. “After all, this was supposed to be your bachelorette party weekend.”
“I have to admit,” said the blonde as Jessica retrieved her own suitcase from the car, “it was pretty damn fun.”
“And?” asked Samantha slowly.
“And it wouldn’t have been as fun without Jason,” she admitted.
“Exactly,” replied Sam, beaming.
The girls shared hugs and Samantha thanked Jessica profusely for organizing the trip, even if it was under false pretenses. Sam and Jessica got into their own vehicles and headed for home. Soon, Samantha brought her puttering hatchback into her apartment complex parking lot and parked in her empty spot. The spot next to her was reserved for the tenants directly beneath her, and she saw a new blue truck parked there. Samantha remembered the moving truck she’d seen just before she left for her trip. Apparently, the noisy couple below her had finally been kicked out, and there was already a new tenant. Samantha dragged her suitcase to the top of the stairs. When she reached the landing, Skip was in his usual spot smoking. Knowing Skips’ routine like she did, Sam knew it was probably his final cigarette of the evening before he turned in. He wore flip flops, cut-off denim shorts, a tie-dye tank top, and wire-frame reading glasses. Soaking wet, the man couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.
Mrs. Kush Kush wound herself around his ankles. Much like her owner, she wasn’t in the best shape. Skip had no idea how old she actually was, but he knew Kurt Cobain was still alive when he’d rescued her from a dumpster. One eye was completely white, and the other was so cloudy Samantha had doubts about how much the cat could actually see out of it. Its fur was patchy, and one brown fang protruded from its lower jaw, poking out of its mouth at all times. It had no other teeth to speak of.
“Hey, Skip. Hey, Mrs. Kush Kush.”
“Hey, Samsonite. You been outta town?” Skip’s voice sounded as if the air had to pass through a wall of pea gravel before it could escape the voice box.
“Just back from a girls’ weekend in Vegas,” she replied.
“Righteous,” he said.
“Looks like we’ve got new neighbors,” said Sam pointing down to the ground. “Have you met them yet?”
“Yeah, it’s just one dude. I met him. He came up here yesterday. Me and Kush Kush were chillin.’ Seemed like a nice guy. It’s weird, now you mention it. He asked about you.”
“What?” Samantha’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Said he was a friend of yours. His name is…” Skip squinted and looked up at the porchlight above his own apartment door. “I can’t remember … started with a D. David maybe.”
“Derek,” said Samantha. “His name is Derek, and he is not a nice guy.”