Been There, Married That by Gigi Levangie Grazer

Author:Gigi Levangie Grazer [Grazer, Gigi Levangie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Women, Family Life, Marriage & Divorce
ISBN: 9781250166814
Google: bx9fxAEACAAJ
Amazon: 1250166810
Goodreads: 45046763
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2020-02-11T00:00:00+00:00

12: Membership Revoked

Fin and I had our feet up on the coffee table that had never supported a cup of coffee in the living room no one had lived in. Over a box of Dunkin’ Donuts, Fin decided she was moving in for a “bit.”

“What is this ‘bit’?” I asked as I licked powdered sugar off my lips.

“A bit,” she said. “A while, a spell, until my sister can function on her own,” she said as she pushed doughnut holes aside in the box. “You need help. Protection. Where the fuck’s the apple fritter? What did you do with the fritter?”

“I frittered it away,” I said before I burped.

We stayed up playing “Fin-der” (as she christened Tinder) until she caught smartphone thumb. She topped out at 150 matches.

“The last time I dated, you used a phone to call people,” I said. “Now, you order up dick just like pizza.”

“It’s dick-convenient,” Fin said. “Better than Uber. Although, Uber delivers dick, too, depending on the driver.”

I’d boiled water for tea because tea made me feel calm and righteous. Wine required less work but also made me feel sad. And didn’t Beyoncé sip herb tea, if I’m understanding her husband’s lyrics? Anyway, chamomile with mānuka honey, if you’re wondering. Meanwhile, I wondered if I would be able to afford mānuka honey after the divorce.

“I’m so not ready for this new dating world,” I said. “If only Trevor were a little more—”

“Not Trevor? Un-Trevor? Anything but Trevor?”

“Fin, how do you get guys to swipe right?” I asked, grabbing her phone. “It says on your profile that you’re on parole.”

Fin shot me her say what, now? face, which she employed when I’d inadvertently, or maybe advertently, said something stupid. She popped her cigarette box on the side of her hand and flipped a stick into her mouth.

“Do you not understand the male of the species, bruh?” she asked, the cigarette bouncing on her lower lip. “Dudes love a bad bitch.”

I braced against her stack of silver rings as she play-punched me.

“And . . . that’s going to leave a bruise,” I said, looking at my shoulder.

“I’m signing you up,” she said, grabbing my phone.

“Don’t do it,” I said.

“I’m doing it,” she said.

“You can’t. You don’t have my Facebook password.”

She looked at me and laughed. “Sis, I know all your passwords.”

“You do not.”

“Morley89, Password7, Fin73,” she recited. “Peppers.”

“Shit,” I said, interrupted.

“First dog, sister, birth year, favorite number,” she said. “Now who’s the smart Murphy sister?” Fin grabbed my arm to give me an Indian rub, which is probably racist as well as painful.

“I’m still smarter,” I said, pushing her off and wrapping my arm around her neck. “I’ve never gone to prison.”

“You just never tried,” she said. She slapped my knee, wriggled out from under my grasp, and jumped up off the sofa.

“C’mon,” she said, pulling my arm from its socket. “Let’s go have some fun!”

I woke up groggy and late with doughnut crumbs sprinkled on my chest to find Fin and Trevor on either side

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