Content warning: very strong language

November 2018
Leominster, MA, USA

I swear to the living Christ! If I didn't get shit done, no one would do it.

My in-laws always bitch and moan that I swear too much, I'm too direct, and I should shut up about personal crap. But ya wanna know the facts? So. Many. Problems. Could be solved simply by opening your fuckin' mouth and admitting the goddamn truth. How difficult is it, really?

Yeah, sure. I'm the one at the wrong end of the stick.

Right?--Wrong.

Conservatives are notorious for having major-league oak trees stuck up their asses for no good reason. Right when Team Sylvian gets back on track after eight years of horsing around, what the hell does Vee do?

She shoots Cupid dead in the ass!

Because she's too scared to fall in love again.

I love her to death, but seriously? Vee needs to get a fuckin' grip! Ditch that religious baggage you don't need anymore and get laid. 

Like, right away!

Once Vee rings me on Skype and tells me what the hell she did with Ian? It's hotter than hell here! No lie, I'm starting to melt like a fuckin' candle.

Judging by her flushed cheeks, her breathlessness, and her glazed eyes, I think Vee liked it a crap-ton more than she wants to admit.

"No wonder why Ian waited so long for you," I exclaim. "I don't even swing that way and I'm considering it."

Vee gives me the look of death. "C'mon, Aria. I'm being serious."

"So am I!"

"What do I do now?" She cradles her forehead in her palm. "I had to hang up. Otherwise, I was gonna have phone sex with him right there and then."

"And that's bad because...?"

"Because we haven't seen each other in eight years," she says, incredulous. "No hug, no kiss, no heart-to-heart. Just raw phone sex."

"Still not seeing the need for DEFCON-2, sorry."

"Ugh! Of course you wouldn't."

"Hey, now!" My face falls. "The fuck does that mean?"

"I can't go near him until I'm divorced." She looks half-determined, half-crestfallen. "I can't trust myself around him. He gets me so worked up."

A little squee slips past my lips, earning me a stern glare from Vee.

"Sorry, I can't help it." It's like my heart's a boiling kettle that's gonna erupt with happiness. "God, I've wanted there to be fireworks for so long."

"You're not listening."

"Yeah, no...you're right. I'm not." After clearing my throat, I plaster the most serious look I can conjure, which is not convincing because I'm freaking ecstatic. "Right, this is me. Trying to be super serious like--"

Don't say Mister Meep-Morp!

"--like...Ian Caruso."

Whew, made it.

"That's better," Sylvia says in this condescending tone she uses when she's straddling her high horse.

Man! She should do us all a favor and straddle Ian instead!

Ya know, I'd pay to see that. Not in an I'm-watching-her-boink kinda way. More like a thank-fuck-it's-finally-happening way.

"You know what I mean?" she says.

"Yeah, abso-freaking-lutely."

"You weren't listening, were you?"

"Nope, I was dreaming of Team Sylvian, to be honest."

"Ugh!" She pushes herself away from the desk on her wheely office chair. "You are the worst friend ever, ya know that?"

"Look, I keep hearing wha-wha-wha I can't possibly fuck the man I've loved my whole adult life because of some lame paperwork, and I can't deal."

She glares at me again.

"I mean, c'mon!" Frustrated, I throw my hands up in the air. "If you're gonna get all high 'n' mighty with all that religious shit, how 'bout some real talk?"

"What do you mean?" she asks warily.

"According to the Catechism, if I remember correctly after four years of Catholic high school..." I cross my arms. "You were living in sin for five fucking years--heh-heh, literally!--because you didn't get married in the Church, am I right?"

And you seemed perfectly happy to be living in sin back then!

So W-T-F?

Her shoulders slump. "Yeah, that's true."

"Separating from Marcus was, in effect, better for your soul. Not worse."

In more ways than one!

"I'm well aware," says Vee with a resigned sigh.

"At this point in time, you are technically--according to Church doctrine--in the same position you were before you left for Germany."

"What do you mean?"

"Unmarried and single."

Vee's eyes widen, but she doesn't make a sound.

"Your divorce papers are, therefore, only logistical paperwork." I shrug. "Subject to God being a grumpy admin assistant with a vendetta to crack down on phone sex, I'm not seeing the problem."

For a moment, Vee stares at me agape. Until her jaw snaps shut.

"Go to freaking Confession or whatever Catholics do to purge their guilt." I wave a dismissive hand. "And get back on the damn horse."

In order to ride Mister Meep-Morp into blissful oblivion!

"I can't decide if what you've said is offensive or brilliant," she mutters.

"Meh, knowing me, probably both."

And that, folks, is why they pay me the big bucks!

Or, if we're being real here, the solidly middle-class bucks.

"But that still doesn't change the fact that it's morally wrong to date someone when you're not divorced yet," Vee insists.

"Says who?" I scoff. "Doesn't that shit only matter to lawyers in a divorce settlement? Word to the wise, neither of you guys have Jack Shit in cash or assets, so what difference does it make? What's he gonna contest? Adding a half-share of your student debt to his bill? He ain't got a leg to stand on."

"It's about ethics and morality," she says, "not just pragmatism."

"I'd say date Ian until you're officially divorced and you know you can stand it when he leaves his dirty socks on the floor. Then marry the love of your life properly in the Church so that you're no longer living in sin. Job done!"

"But in the meantime, I should stay away from extracurricular activities."

"You do you." I shake my head. "Personally, I see a woman desperate to get back with the love of her life when he's longing to be with her. And I see your ex as an asshole who moved on before you even left."

She falls silent.

"So, to be frank..." I stare directly into the camera. "Fuck ethics!"

"Great motto in life."

"It is, ya know?" I grin, ignoring her sarcasm. "Who cares what society thinks? Fuck society. The real question is: Can you look at your ass in the mirror without slapping it?"

Wow, that came out dirtier than I intended. Heh-heh!

She gives me a deadpan response. "Generally speaking, yes."

"There ya go." I shrug. "Y'all good."

"You are literally the personification of the devil on my shoulder."

Pretending to polish my nails, I say, "I try my best."

"You're evil."

"I prefer to identify as chaotic neutral."

"But, out of all of us, you're the only one in a functioning relationship," she muses, almost to herself.

"Usually. Most of the time." I pause for dramatic effect. "Ya know, when I've had more than two hours of sleep and don't wanna kick his ass, yeah."

She exhales a heavy sigh. "What if I can't look at my face in the mirror without slapping it?"

"Do you love Ian Caruso?" I ask in a firm tone. "Yes or no?"

"Yes," she breathes. "I've never stopped loving him."

Great! Glad you're admitting what the rest of us have known for ages!

"Does Ian Caruso love you?" I ask. "Yes or no?"

"I think so?"

"Girl, I'm about to--!"

"Yes!" she says with more conviction. "Yes, I'm pretty sure he does."

Yeah, I'm pretty sure waiting eight fucking years constitutes some form of loyalty and commitment toward you. Well done. Ya got there in the end.

"So, if you mutually love each other, and if you're officially separated, just ticking off the days until your divorce, and the Church thinks ya single...?"

Motioning with my hand, I urge her to finish the sentence.

"--I should just go ahead and date him?" she asks tentatively.

"Ding-ding-ding!" I exclaim. We have a winner, folks. We have a winner.

"Okay, fine." She takes a deep breath. "Let me think about it."

Yay! It's a start...

"Thanks for kinda listening to me," she says sardonically.

"Hey, what are friends for?"

"Bye, sis."

When Vee said she'd think about it, I thought she meant a few hours. A day. Maybe three days if she was really keen to ruminate.

But it's been two fuckin' weeks since that shit went down, and that stubborn little dumbass hasn't budged an inch.

Which means Vee was yankin' my chain. Goddamn it!

Now I have a conference call scheduled with Mister Meep-Morp to discuss a viable plan of action for conquering Ms. Hard-To-Get.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

Like I said: Mother. Flipping. Marriage Counselor.

___

Word count: 1,396
Total word count: 24,037/40,000