SEVENTEEN
Honestly, if Mellie went on one more disastrous date, she was going to give up dating forever.
“Come on, it can’t be that bad.” Claire laughed.
Mellie made a face at her friend, knowing for once Claire was enjoying someone else swimming in the deep end of the dating pool and getting pulled under over and over again.
“It’s been horrendous. Let’s see. I’ll tell you about the last three.” Mellie wished she’d had a flask to take to dinner—no, she’d have said what was on her mind, and that wouldn’t have ended well. She slipped on her floral sneakers for the walk home.
“First.” Mellie held up a finger. “There was the guy who talked about his mother and his twelve cats for the entire date, including showing me their pictures on his phone. His home screen was him on the sofa with all the cats. When I got home, I had more cat hair on me than I think a cat has on its body.”
Claire leaned against the counter and giggled. She was starting the evening shift while Mellie was ending her workday. They tried to wait for each other, take a few minutes to talk, since they didn’t get to see each other as much as they’d like.
Claire worked two jobs and approached dating like many people approached a job search. She figured the more men she said yes to, the more likely she was to find the one she really liked. It was her who finally convinced Mellie to try online dating and those silly speed-dating get-togethers and meetups. Though right now, Mellie wasn’t sure if she should thank her friend or kill her. Claire had her red hair up in a messy bun. She was so pretty and yet even she had a terrible time dating.
Amy swore she had good luck at a speed-dating event. She was now happily dating a guy as dorky as she was, and they were a perfect fit. So speed dating did work for some. That was all Mellie wanted: someone who was right for her and who would her love as much as he loved himself. Was it too much to ask?
“You know my idea of a pet is a goldfish.” Claire shuddered. “My allergies would have kicked into overdrive with all that cat hair. Tell me about the next guy.”
Mellie rubbed her nose. “Right. Contestant number two. Met him at a speed-dating event, where he talked about his ex and how awful she was the entire time. Not only was he not over her, but he thinks all women are gold diggers out to cheat on him. Next.”
They both laughed as Mellie folded up her smock and stowed it under the counter. Claire signed in to the register and looked around the currently empty gift shop. “I know Amy found her guy there, but I hated speed dating. So much pressure.”
“No kidding. So the third guy was from one of those online dating sites. I’m on so many of them; I forget which one. Anyway, he wanted to go to that fancy new restaurant in the old bank vault?”
“Gatsby’s?”
“That’s the place. It’s super expensive, so I suggested something low-key like a walk in the park and food truck dinner, but he insisted.”
“Why do I have the feeling this doesn’t end well?” Claire reapplied her lip gloss and smiled at two women idly perusing the umbrellas.
“He was a piece of work. Ordered several fancy drinks, and the whole shebang: appetizer, expensive entrée, extra sides, and dessert.” Mellie gathered up her things, glancing around to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.
“The guy was good-looking, said he worked in banking, and then he went to the bathroom and had the waiter tell me he’d left. Said he ‘wasn’t feeling a connection’ and that was that. I was stuck with a four-hundred-dollar bill.”
“No way! What a cretin.” Claire took a drink from the iced tea she always had with her.
“My credit card is still smoking after that date.” Mellie hugged Claire. “We’ll find the right men. Hopefully we won’t go broke doing it, though.”
“Hang in there and enjoy the weekend,” Claire called out as Mellie exited the gift shop.
The next morning was Saturday. Mellie woke up happy—her family was off her back, she had a great fake boyfriend, and for the first time, she was ready to get up and get on with her life and face the world.
Skipping the shower, Mellie threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, pulled her hair up in a bun on top of her head, and broke out the bleach. Several hours later, not only had she cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, but she’d cleaned out the closets as well.
The trash went down the chutes and the bags for donation went into the bins. A resident on another floor had set them up as part of a community service project for her kid, and they’d been such a hit that the apartment building had decided to keep them. The building rotated various charities every few months to give six or seven a shot. The residents voted on the charities for the next year every September. The bins were picked up once a week.
Feeling pleased with herself, Mellie sat outside on the balcony, relaxing in the antique wrought iron chaise, eating an Italian cold cut sub and drinking a glass of wine for lunch.
The smell of the water made her inhale. Next to fresh-cut grass, it was one of her favorite scents. And thanks to her grandmother’s generosity, she could afford the water view. When Mellie was in high school, her grandmother passed away and left a substantial amount of money. Half went to her mom, and the rest was split between Mellie and her brothers.
Neither Cal nor Heath needed the money—both said they were going to invest it, while Mellie had other plans. A large chunk went into savings and retirement, and the rest? A room of her own. The money helped her afford the small apartment with the spectacular water view, and allowed her to work part-time at the museum gift shop while she pursued her dream.
An official college graduate, Mellie knew she needed to gather her courage and go to the gallery, or she’d have to find a full-time job. Her parents had paid for school, and the guilt over deceiving them for the past three years on what she was actually studying came and went. In her heart, Mellie believed her grandmother would’ve been proud that she’d done what she wanted to do and followed her heart.
Sending up thanks to her grandmother once again for leaving her plenty of money, she spent a few hours watching the boats, people coming and going, and letting the water soothe her soul.
Later that afternoon, Mellie tackled cleaning out the dresser drawers, dusting the blinds, even cleaning the windows. Her mom had been after her to hire a cleaning lady, but not only was Mellie funny about the maintenance people coming in, she certainly didn’t want a cleaning lady stumbling into her locked room. Logically she knew she could tell the person to bypass the room, but Mellie was worried one day she’d forget to lock it and the woman would laugh at the silly houses. Just like the projects her aunt made during her “time away,” as the family referred to Aunt Jilly’s recovery from a mental breakdown.
Growing up, Mellie had thought everyone loved Jilly’s paintings, not noticing her aunt never sold one. Until one summer day when she overheard her mom and some of her friends talking about how God-awful Aunt Jilly’s paintings were, how juvenile, but they were told by the doctor to be supportive so she didn’t end up in the loony bin again. Ever since then, Mellie never trusted what people said when they paid her compliments. It was too easy for them to lie and later laugh behind her back.
The last thing she could bear was people saying her houses were great but really thinking they were stupid. The work was a part of her, a piece of her soul, and she wasn’t ready to lay it bare it to the cruel, harsh world yet. Soon, she’d be ready.
Tired and sweaty, she wiped a hand across her forehead and redid the bun, securing the brown curls that had sprung free back into some semblance of order. After getting rid of the rest of the trash and donations, she took a long, hot shower then relaxed on the sofa, listening to Nina Simone and watching the candles flicker. For the first time in a month, as Mellie fell asleep, a pint of ice cream in her hand, not once had she checked Greg’s social media pages. A small victory. She’d take it.