“Okay, but back to the whole ‘you just dumped Everett, who I’m pretty sure was the love of your life as recently as this morning’ situation,” Eleanor said. “Wow, these Cinnamon Twists are delightful.”
“Sometimes simplicity is delicious,” Teddy said.
Eleanor shook her head. “Let’s not change the subject. Are you sure you’re fine with this? Because you’re acting very . . . upbeat.”
Teddy shook her head. “I’m not thinking about it because I don’t want to have a complete mental and emotional breakdown. I want to let this Cheesy Gordita Crunch cure my ills.”
“Seriously, you bought so much Taco Bell,” Eleanor said. “This is, like, the entire menu.”
“Soft tacos will fill the void,” Teddy said with her mouth full.
“Honey, we love you,” Kirsten said, leaning forward. “And that’s why we don’t want you to wake up tomorrow full of regret and questionable beef. Are you sure this is what you want?”
Teddy sighed and slumped over. “It’s not what I want. It’s not what I want at all. But it’s what I’ve got. Everett’s leaving, and I can’t go with him. I have to make my own life, one that has nothing to do with some guy’s big dreams. I can’t be a sidekick again, not after all the work I’ve been doing.”
Eleanor slid over to put an arm around her. “Okay, sweetie. That sounds good. But know that anytime you want to talk or cry or have a pajama-movie night, we’re here.”
“And so is the ice cream freezer,” Kirsten reminded her. “It’s always stocked and waiting.”
Teddy looked at the half-eaten Taco Bell feast on the coffee table, and suddenly, it didn’t look so appealing anymore. Tears sprang to her eyes. “I think my Richard-fueled anger is starting to wear off,” she said softly.
“So what you’re gonna do is go get in your jammies,” Eleanor said in her teacher voice, taking charge. “And we’re going to watch an Alfred Hitchcock movie that will make you think, ‘Well, at least I’m not mixed up in THAT situation,’ while you drink a cup of Sleepytime tea. And then we’re going to tuck you in and you’re going to go to sleep.”
“I may fall asleep during the movie,” Teddy said.
“Perfectly acceptable,” Kirsten said. “Happens to the best of us. Most movies are too damn long, in my opinion.”
“Hear, hear,” Eleanor said.
Teddy sat up straight and blinked her tears away. “Wait. I just had an idea. Instead of a movie . . . are you guys up for a little light vandalism?”
57
“The cashier at Walgreens totally knew what we were up to,” Eleanor said.
“What? Probably lots of people buy several packs of toilet paper and nothing else,” Teddy said. “Maybe we’re having massive intestinal distress. That’s normal.”
“Yeah, maybe we’re three sexy, diarrhea-prone ladies ready to take on the night,” Kirsten said, and Eleanor wrinkled her nose.
“Well, this is it,” Teddy said, parking across the street from the town house. “Are you guys sure you want in on this? I won’t be offended if you want to bail.”
“Teddy,” Eleanor said from the backseat, “what kind of friends would we be if we made you toilet-paper your ex-boyfriend’s house by yourself?”
“We’re with you in your time of need,” Kirsten said, then ripped open one of the packages of toilet paper. “Let’s do this.”
Teddy had never toilet-papered someone before, so she was surprised to discover that it was actually, well, kind of fun. Unfortunately, Richard had only one small tree in his front yard, but the three of them used as much toilet paper as they could covering each of its branches.
“Am I wrong, or is this beautiful? I mean, it’s art,” Kirsten said, standing back and admiring their handiwork with her hands on her hips.
“I think you might be right,” Eleanor said. “Frankly, Richard is lucky we toilet-papered him. We improved the look of the place.”
Teddy sniffled.
“Oh, no, Teddy,” Eleanor said, “are you okay?”
“It just hit me,” Teddy said. “I broke up with Everett. And he’s leaving.”
“Okay,” Eleanor said. “Back in the car. Wow, we did not use much of that toilet paper.”
“It’s possible we overbought,” Kirsten said, picking up the unopened packages. “I’ve never seen anyone cry while toilet-papering.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” Teddy used some of her roll to wipe her nose.
After they got in the car, she took one last look at Richard’s place. The dangling toilet paper blew around in the wind, ghostlike. Kirsten was right—it was kind of beautiful. And it had taken Teddy’s mind off Everett for a few moments.
But as they drove back to their place, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing.
58
Everett spent the next few days in a fog. He felt like all voices were coming to him through a long tunnel, bouncing off the walls and echoing before they hit his ears. Astrid and Jeremy asked him if he was okay, and he nodded and smiled every time. There was no way he could explain to them what had happened or, more than that, how he felt.
“So when are you bringing your Internet girlfriend over?” Natalie asked during their weekly brunch date. She’d made pancakes, Everett’s favorite, but they had no flavor as he shoveled them in his mouth.
“We broke up,” Everett said, taking another bite.
Natalie put down her fork. “What? You broke up with her?”
Everett looked back at her, his eyes wide. “In what world would I break up with her, Nat? She’s perfect. She dumped me.”
“She dumped you?”
“Okay,” Everett said, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can you please stop repeating every traumatic thing I tell you? That would be great.”
“I’m shocked, that’s all,” Natalie said, still eating. Everett was glad at least someone still had an appetite. “I thought you guys were, like, made in the stars. Made for each other? Written in the stars? Both of those. I thought it was email fate or whatever.”
“Yeah, well.” Everett shrugged. “Apparently not.”
“Dude, no wonder you came in here looking like a linebacker who lost a game. Does that analogy make sense? I mean, you looked like a big guy who was sad.”