10: The Two Sides of My Brain Need to Have a Meeting
“Ughhh, I am so not a fuckin’ red carpet kinda girl,” Zooey complained as her BFF, Lacey, pulled her into yet another designer Beverly Hills store. They were searching for a dress that Zooey could comfortably rock to the Golden Globe Awards, but so far, they had come up empty.
“Why do you say that?” Lacey scolded her, still somewhat envious that her friend would even get to go. “What makes you any different that anyone else on that carpet?”
“I don’t want to be there.” She walked into Saks, already noticing it full of women with tons more money and clout than she could ever amass, and immediately wanted to walk right back out. “Let’s just order a dress online.”
“No, crazy ho. We came to find you a dress, we’re gonna find you a dress.”
“Lacey, you don’t understand. I don’t do diamonds and dresses and crap like that. I usually have pencils stuck in my hair, not curls.”
“I understand that completely,” she gently pushed her further into the store, “but it’s one night. Play dress-up and it’s over before you know it.”
“I hate pretending,” she frowned impishly. “You’re an actor, go in my place and play my part.”
“I’m not an actor,” she smiled meekly. “I’m aspiring.” If anything, Lacey should have been a model with her thin 5’10” frame and flawless chocolate skin covering Janet Jackson-like cheekbones. But alas, she “ and every other restaurant hostess in Hollywood “ was a wannabe actor, taking menial odd jobs in order to pay the rent until the ‘big break.’ And in her spare time, she aided Zooey in pretty much everything. “And trust me,” she went on, “if I thought I had even the slightest chance at being you, I would try.”
“Oh god, shut up.”
“I’m serious!”
“I know you are, that’s why I want you to shut up,” she teased, accompanying Lacey towards the formal wear. She already knew, without looking too hard, that their entire selection was way too boring to suit her tastes. Dresses that would look fairly fantastic on most women just screamed drab to Zooey. “Lace, this is not gonna cut it.”
“What you mean, boo?”
“I mean… everything sucks,” she explained curtly. “Do they sell anything unique in this city, or is it all this ‘original and vintage’ bullshit where five of us will inevitably end up at the show in the same fucking dress?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s with the ‘tude, dude?”
“I don’t have a ‘tude.”
“So why are you snapping at me?”
“Because!” Zooey sighed in frustration, knowing that her disdain actually had very little to do with the dress search. She was just annoyed in general. At everything. “Because,” she reoffered, softer this time. Lacey only looked at her.
“What the hell is wrong, Zo?”
“You really wanna know?”
She nodded as if the answer was obvious.
“Do you really wanna know?” she asked, louder this time.
“Zooey.”
“Do you really wanna fuckin’ know?!” she shouted this time, laughing as she got the words out, mostly to hide the twinge of pain she felt when she thought about it.
“Yes!” Lacey giggled in response.
As onlookers passed them by, Zooey stared her friend down before confessing, “I kissed Justin.”
Lacey’s small brown eyes got big and bug-like and before she knew it, she was yelling, “But he’s married!”
Zooey quickly grabbed her dear friend and covered her mouth with her hand so that she couldn’t yell anything else incriminating. “Why do people keep telling me that as if it’s new information?” she wondered out loud, dragging Lacey back outside. “Can we discuss this quietly?”
Lacey nodded while trying to breathe past Zooey’s hand.
Zooey let her companion free and then immediately avoided her accusing stare. “Don’t look at me like that,” she demanded.
“I’m not looking at you like anything.”
“You’re looking at me like I should know better.”
“Well… you should.”
“I do. But I’m here now, and I’m not sure where to go next.”
“What the hell do you mean, what kind of options do you have?”
“I don’t know,” she realized somberly as they came to a halt to wait for passing traffic so they could cross from Wilshire over to Rodeo. “I mean, I guess there’s nothing to do but either get my emotions in check or stop hanging out with him.”
“Or both,” Lacey offered unhelpfully.
“No.”
“No?”
“What would be the point in both?”
“Put yourself out of your misery. The more time you spend with someone like that, the more likely you are to be out of control.”
“Someone like that?” Zooey felt offended by something that hadn’t even been said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well you know.”
“I don’t.”
“Justin is… unique. He’s rare.”
“You make him sound like an endangered species.”
“He is,” Lacey nodded. “A real live gentleman? Successful? In Hollywood? They’re a dying breed, Zo.”
“I don’t think that combination of characteristics was ever found in a breed to begin with.”
“Right. As I said, he’s a rarity. And I think that the more you spend time with him, letting him… infiltrate your life, the more likely you are to fall in love with--.”
“I’m not gonna fall in love with him,” she assured her friend “ though, mainly, it was for herself.
“First of all, there’s no way you can guarantee that. Secondly, I was going to say you were susceptible to falling in love with the idea of him.”
“How do you fall in love with an idea?” she asked rhetorically as they crossed another street towards one of many Rodeo restaurants, The Farm. “That sounds weird.”
“People do it all the time. They create an image of the person they’re with, no matter how accurate or inaccurate it may be, and then they engage in it.”
“But is that really falling in love?”
“Who’s to say it isn’t,” Lacey shrugged, pulling her sunglasses to the top of her head as they took to a table in the patio seating area. “I just know it’s dangerous.”
“Stop exaggerating,” Zooey sighed, mimicking Lacey’s actions. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Yet.”
Zooey could only look at her. “You just really want me to feel like shit about this, huh?”
“I want you to think about the ramifications if you go any further. Like, why would you want to involve yourself in something that has absolutely no potential for success? What will you get out of this if you don’t walk away now?”
“A friend?” she asked innocently.
“You have friends. Zo. You make friends every other day.”
“But you’ve never met someone that just… gets you?”
“Everyone gets you.”
“No.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“No one does,” she answered as honestly as she knew how. “Except him.”
“This is what I mean! You’re creating some ludicrous notion that doesn’t really have to exist, Zooey, and you’re turning it into, ‘He gets me like I’ve never been gotten before.’ It’s in your head.”
“It’s not in my head, I swear to god,” she felt herself beginning to tear up. “You can tell me a lot of things, and logically speaking, I’ll understand them one way or another, but you cannot tell me that whatever I’m feeling for Justin is made up or disingenuous. I feel better when he’s around. It’s not in my head.”
“Zooey…” Lacey didn’t know what to say to convince her friend otherwise. She wanted to help her, but she didn’t want to push her towards Justin by being obstinate about it either.
“What do I do?”
“You walk away.”
“What if I can’t?”
“You’re gonna have to. Either let it hurt now, or let it get too far and hurt a hell of a lot more down the road.”
“Lacey, I don’t want to pursue anything with him, I just want him in my life.”
“And that’s dangerous.”
“Why?”
“Because you kissed him, which means that you obviously are not in control of your emotions.”
“That wasn’t my fault.”
“Yeah, and the dog ate your homework,” she rolled her eyes. “You have to stop. Everything you’re doing, just stop.”
____________________
The Golden Globes had come, and as planned Zooey went with Emile as her escort. She finally settled on an electric blue knee-length Zac Posen dress that would’ve set her apart from the crowd had her sister not been sitting beside her, wearing a long neon yellow Herve Leger gown. And it certainly didn’t help in her quest to do as Lacey said and avoid Justin for the night. Her table was situated just a few feet from his, and with Emile acting as a blinking sign, it wasn’t very long into the show before he approached.
“Something keeps putting us in the same room together,” he greeted her evenly during a commercial break, when most of the table’s occupants were off schmoozing. “What is that about?”
She was nervous to see him, given what had occurred just a week before, and she was surprised he made a move to speak. For once, she didn’t know what to say. “Maybe we’ve been put in the same room for years. We just notice each other now,” she hypothesized.
“Maybe so,” he nodded. He motioned for Emile, offering her a quick hug and cheek kiss. “How are you, Emile?”
“I’m very good,” she returned cheekily.
“Congratulations, by the way. Zooey told me you were expecting.”
“Thank you,” she beamed, clearly very much in love with her life. “Congratulations to you, I don’t think I’ve seen you since you got married.”
“Thank you, thank you,” he grinned shyly. “You think you’ll be walking down the aisle soon?”
“I would say so,” she sighed happily. “Certainly before the end of the year.”
“Send ‘Ye my regards,” he offered before looking back to Zooey. “You feel like going to get a drink?”
After tuning out their exchange, Zooey looked up, a bit startled by his request. “Really?”
“Walk with me.”
Daintily, she rose from her seat and escorted him to the lobby of the famed Beverly Hilton, where dozens of guests were gathered to gossip and collect cocktails.
“You look great,” Justin commented, realizing how nice she looked when she glammed it up. “Blue is a good color on you.”
She gave him a tight-lipped grin.
“What’s wrong?” he wondered, seeing the tenseness in her expression.
“Nothing,” she lied.
“Zooey.” He moved in closer to her so that he wouldn’t be overheard by anyone nearby. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking we shouldn’t be here. Or at least, I shouldn’t be.”
“The good thing about an award show?” he whispered. “Everyone here is famous, they’re all too egotistical to give a shit about what I’m doing.”
“Yeah,” she forced out a smile. “But who’s to say they’re not looking at me.”
“They should be, you look fantastic.”
“Don’t flatter me.”
“Why not?”
“I blush easily.”
“That’s not even a little bit true.”
“It’s true when it’s you.”
“Sorry.”
“Can I go?” she requested, growing weary of his hot breath on the side of her cheek.
He pulled back to look at her, wondering why she was so irate. “Are you supposed to be mad at me?”
“Not at all.”
“Then what?”
“I’m uncomfortable.”
“You’re uncomfortable with me now?” He was visibly offended by the prospect. “What gives?”
“It’s not you. It’s them.”
“Ignore them.”
“Well it is you, actually. You and us and what happened. It’s… unnerving to stand here with you, acting like it didn’t.”
“So… what? You need some space? Are we done now? What happens?”
“Let’s talk about it,” she suggested hopefully. “I don’t want any awkwardness between us but I need to... talk it out.”
“What is there to say?”
“Why did you kiss me?” The way she said it was almost harsh and accusatory, as if she didn’t like it.
Nervously, he pulled her away from the crowds and towards a secluded corner where they could speak more candidly. “You’re mad that I kissed you,” he guessed.
“I’m not mad,” she shook her head, harried. “I just need to know why you did it. Were you feeling sorry for me? Or were you feeling… me?”
“I don’t know, I was feeling you. I think.”
“You think.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Why did you kiss me back?” he had been wondering for over a week now.
“You know why.”
“Say it anyway.”
“Because I like you. And you like me. And that knowledge controls a huge part of me.”
He nodded but stayed silent.
“Say something,” she demanded.
“What am I supposed to say?”
“If I knew, I’d say it myself.”
“I don’t know what’s happening here, Zooey, but I don’t think we should be angry at each other.”
“I’m not angry at you.”
“Then what is this?”
“Confusion?”
“I get that. And I get that you’re trying to make this easy by being rigid, but it’s not gonna help. I know that when I’m with you, I feel a certain something that I haven’t in a long time. And I don’t want it to go away.”
“What way is that?”
“I don’t know. I just feel… yellow,” he intimated softly.
“Yellow as in happy? Or yellow as in scared?”
“I dunno,” he repeated, shaking his head. “I think both.”
“That’s… sweet.”
“It’s true.”
“This sucks,” she pouted.
“Do you trust me?”
“No, Aladdin, I don’t, actually.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because everything you say and do propels me further into this quandary. And in turn, it means I don’t trust myself, which is a dangerous, dangerous game.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Sadly, I’m not.”
“Well…”
“Would you say I know a little something about you?”
He looked suspiciously around the crowded room before answering. “Yeah…”
“Well if I know you, I know you’re not someone who enjoys being out of control...”
“I don’t,” he admitted, “but I think you are.”
“I don’t know if that’s true.”
“You don’t live by rules, Zooey. Everyone knows that.”
“Well maybe I should.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t.”
“What do you want from me?” she demanded, feeling naked and so uncomfortably vulnerable as she stood there.
“I want you to stop acting like we have to let a moment of weakness define us. We made a mistake, but that’s all it has to be if you’d just let it go.”
“So just forget it happened?”
“Yes!”
“It’s simple for you, huh?”
“Simple enough,” he deigned.
Zooey was trying to do the right thing. She was trying to address it and assess it. She was trying to make sense of what was happening and not ignore how wrong it all was. She wanted to do as Lacey said and accept that her and Justin could never be… anything. But if he was going to insist otherwise, how could she? “Fine,” she finally relented, glancing around the room as it began to thin out. “But we really should go back to our seats, people are gonna start thinking thoughts.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” he smiled warmly at her. He finally looked up from her well-decorated face to see that his date “ his mother “ was waiting for him near the bar, while Emile stood by the door, presumably waiting for her sister. “I’ll call you,” he whispered to his companion before allowing her to escape.
Comforted, this time, by his breath on her neck, she smiled to herself. “Maybe I’ll find you at an after party tonight.”
“Catch me if you can,” he finished, finally strolling over to where his mother sat. “Hey, mommy.”
“Who was that?” she didn’t waste any time wondering, referring to Zooey.
“Just a friend,” he replied casually, picking up the drink one of the bartenders had prepared for her, handing it over. “Here you go.”
“Thank you,” she smiled tensely, taking a long sip of the pink concoction. “How do you know her?”
“Through a friend,” he frowned at her line of questioning. “Why, you know her?”
“No. You just seemed to talk to her for a long time.”
“We haven’t seen each other in a while.”
“She’s a good friend?”
“We’re not especially close, but more than acquaintances, I suppose.”
“Hmm.”
They reentered the ballroom, seeing Christina Aguilera and Cher on stage, so they stayed at the back of the room until their presentation ended. “What are you getting at?” he whispered to his mother apprehensively.
“You smile with all your friends like that?”
“What?”
“You seemed particularly… enchanted by her.”
“I did?”
“Yes.”
“Well maybe it’s all the champagne. It’s nothing serious, I assure you.”
“Hmm.”
“Mom.”
“I’m not saying anything!” she hissed.
“I know, that’s why it’s annoying.”
“Well… I’m not gonna say anything.”
“Okay, but we both you’re gonna be silent for all of ten minutes and then blurt it out at the most inconvenient moment, so you might as well just say it now.”
“I have nothing to say,” she maintained, taking another long sip of her drink. “Just be careful.”
“Be careful of what?”
“Be careful of whatever feeling it was that made you smile at her like that.”
He knew what she was talking about, because the feeling tended to surface whenever Zooey was around. Ambiguously happy, maybe? He didn’t know what it was or where it came from, but it was there, slapping his happy ass in the face. “All right, well thank you for your input, mom.”
“You’re not listening to me,” she noted, not appreciating his flippant response. “I’m serious, Justin.”
“I’m serious, too!”
“You’re not. You think it’s all fun and games, but that ring on your finger represents a serious commitment. And I think you’re playing with fire.”
“I think you should mind your business,” he retorted, annoyed. He watched in irritation as she stormed away from their conversation while he turned back to the bar to get his own drink.
Meanwhile, Emile and Zooey had convened in the ladies’ room for a makeup refresh, but also for a little gab session. Emile had also noticed her sister’s conversation with Justin and found it intriguing, to say the least.
“What were you and Justin talking about?” she demanded to know after making sure that the bathroom was empty.
Zooey, who had never ever been able to hide anything from her sister, just glanced at her in the mirror and then looked down to the sink in front of them. “Nothing.”
“You fucking liar!”
“Nothing important.”
“What’d he say, he’s leaving his wife for you?”
“What?”
“Come on, Zo, I’m not stupid. I see the way you look at him.”
“What way is that?”
“Like he let you in on some fantastic secret.”
That was an accurate depiction of how she felt about him, too. And that fantastic secret was… him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
They both turned as the bathroom door swung open and in walked Justin’s mother. Neither of them had ever met the woman, so it didn’t really register that Justin was, in fact, her son, and so they continued their conversation.
“You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about, bitch, don’t try to play me like I don’t know your ass.”
“We’re just friends.”
“For now, maybe.”
“Forever,” she supplied sadly. “He’s married, remember?”
“I saw the way he looked back at you, boo. He is not thinking about that woman.”
“Well… I am. So none of this matters.” She finished applying a fresh coat of lip gloss and then watched her big sister fluff her hair a bit. “How are you feeling, Em?”
“I’m feeling like my sister is a big pussy.”
“What?!”
“You want him, Zooey, and I’m actually surprised that you’re letting something as insignificant as a wife deter you.”
“Just a couple of months ago, you were scolding me for going bowling with him because he was engaged.”
“Girl please,” she waved off, just as their other bathroom companion joined them at the sinks. “Two months later, he’s still hanging on your every word. You’re my sister, not that other woman. Get yours.”
“He’s not mine to get.” She looked over to the third party, who seemed to be ignoring them, and smiled. “Hi,” she offered cordially.
“That is such a pretty color on you,” Lynn sweetly replied, ever the Southern charmer.
“Thank you,” Zooey grinned in her direction, recalling Justin saying something similar just a little while before.
“I picked it out for her,” Emile inserted proudly, even though the dress she picked was hot pink. Zooey was the one who opted for the blue.
“You have good taste,” Lynn replied with a grin, drying her hands. “You ladies have a good evening.”
“You too,” Zooey returned, watching nervously as the woman disappeared. She then shot her eyes back to Emile, who was completely oblivious. “I think that was Justin’s mom,” she whispered.
“Nuh uh.”
“I’ve seen her on TV before, she kinda resembles the image I have in my head. And she definitely sounds like the woman I’m remembering.”
“Well we didn’t refer to him by name. Maybe she doesn’t know who we were talking about.”
“Yeah, and maybe I’m the queen of Abu Dhabi,” Zooey snapped. “Fuck, Em.”
“Calm down. She wouldn’t have complimented you if she knew.”
“Maybe she’s just a nice Southern lady who compliments everything. But in the back of her mind, she thinks I’m a homewrecking slut,” she realized. “Shit!”
“Even so, you were nice and respectful about the situation. If anything, she thinks I’m the insensitive cunt.”
“That’s true.”
“So let’s just go back out and enjoy the rest of this boring ass show.”
As Emile switched out of the restroom, Zooey shakily pulled her phone from her shimmery golden clutch and typed out a text message to Justin. You make me feel yellow too... but right now, the scared version.
She took a deep breath and stared at herself in the mirror a bit longer, watching her remorse pour over her entire face. She hated the way she felt, so deeply infatuated with this amazing man, who happened to be someone’s husband. And even more, she hated how avoidable this all was, if she’d just had fifty-five cents that day. Or if she’d taken the many opportunities she’d been given to just not talk to him. But it was like she couldn’t help herself “ no matter how much he gave her, she always wanted more. And now, she stood there, at the Golden Globes, of all places, waiting for something to guide her out of her guilt. It finally came in the form of a text message response from Justin.
Move forward zooey. This never happened. It will shock you how much it never happened. (Five bucks if you know where that’s from.)
She immediately chuckled, because she instantly recognized it as one of Mad Men’s many pearls of wisdom. And as much as she found it adorable that Justin was using this moment to quote Don Draper, his words actually didn’t help her at all. She was miserable and no one seemed to get that. Everyone had a different answer to her problem, but none of them satisfyingly told her how to deal with the part where all of this was hurting like hell. And no matter where she went from there, it would only hurt worse. Where was the advice for what to do with that?
Author's Chapter Notes:
Mmmk, so I know I suck, like, really badly. I'm so sorry, you guys. I've just been so freaking busy. New position at work = more responsibility = extra tired ALL the time. But I appreciate you guys more than you know, and I'll absolutely try not to take so long with the next update. Thank you for sticking around! -Ash
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