“Are you trying to say something about Mitch?”
“Well…” I hesitate, thinking about the whatever-you-want-babe, yes-man lump that is her fiancé, Mitch. He’s uninterested in politics, books, movies, travel, or anything not related to football, beer, or video games. Hell no, he’s not worth the effort, and I’ve thought so from the beginning. Nami loves Mitch because she can dress him up like a Ken doll, he looks good in couple photographs, and he’s safe. But is he worthy of her? No. He’s not.
But I can’t say all this. Can I?
But then I don’t have to. Nami fills in the blanks for me.
“You hesitated too long!” she cries, accusing. “You don’t like Mitch!”
“I…” I glance at Nami. I could lie. Smooth all this over, but haven’t I been telling all the people who are #GoingSolo to beless accommodating and stand up for themselves? Plus, I’m tired of lying. I’m tired of lying to them, and to Jack, and to everybody. The least I can do right now is be honest.
“No,” I admit at last. “I don’t particularly like Mitch.”
Nami looks like I slapped her.
Even the seamstress pauses in her fussing over my zipper and steps back, a worried look on her wrinkled face.
Nami glares at me. “What’s wrong with Mitch? Nameonething that’s wrong with him.”
“He… doesn’t work that hard.” I don’t know how to say this withoutsayingit. I’m trying to be diplomatic about the fact that he has less ambition than your typical eggplant.
“That’s not true! He has a job.”
“Working for his uncle at a plumbing supply company,” I try to gently point out.
“Dad was a plumber, there’s no shame in that.”
“It’s not the job I have issue with. It’s that his uncle gave him the job because every other job he ever held, he got fired from. For not showing up on time, or not showing up at all.”
“They didn’t appreciate Mitch’s potential,” Nami says. Wow. She’s really not seeing the truth.
“He failed out of two colleges.”
“He’s a creative type. He wants to launch a channel on Twitch, making millions with his gameplay!”
I roll my eyes. Mitch has been bragging about how he’ll be making millions one day when he’s never lifted a finger to start a channel.
“Yeah, but has he ever even made a single video?”
“He’s working on it!” Nami says, defensive.
“He’ll never do it because it involves work. And he hates to work.” This comes out blunter than I intend, but I’m already angry and the words are out before I can stop them.
“I love him.” Nami’s eyes blaze fire, promising retribution, but I’m in too deep now. “And he’s asked me to take charge of the wedding, because he knows I’ll do it right.”
“No, he’s asked you to be in charge because he’s lazy and planning a wedding takes work. Plus, I don’t think he really cares about the wedding.” I’ve seen the bored, indifferent look on his face as Nami dragged him to one site after another for potential wedding receptions. “This is all your idea. Not his. He doesn’t really care where he gets married. Or how. He likes that you make all the decisions for him but, Nami, that’s not a real partner.”
“He is a real partner. He’s sweet. He’s supportive.”
“He just never disagrees with you. There’s a difference. If he were really supportive, he’d help you with the planning. With anything, really.”
“That’s not true. You’re only saying that because you’re jealous.” Nami jabs a manicured nail into my chest. It hurts.
“I’m not jealous about Mitch.” Far from it.
“You’re just jealous because all you could ever get was Marley. And even then, it’s only because—”
“Don’t say it.” I glare at her, daring her to bring up the pregnancy. If she does, I swear to God, her shins won’t be the only thing I’ll kick. She hesitates. She seems to know she’s going too far. So does the seamstress, because she hisses something in Polish, shrugs her shoulders, and backs slowly out of the room. “Look, Nami, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I could have lied. But I wanted to be honest with you.”
