The Apple of My Eye

Just Like a Woman

Star and David are struggling to make ends meet. Whenever there's money trouble, his mother jumps to their rescue, which to him comes as some form of relief, whereas, to her, is a reminder of everything that's wrong with this design.

But she's already bitched and moaned and groaned enough this year. They had a good thing going in the first semester as far as her notions of the many paybacks of working together were concerned. Now look where all her bitching and moaning and groaning got them.

She's making friends with some of the girls who share the office with her, though, she tells David. Little by little, she's beginning to adapt. It was real hard in the beginning, having to leave behind both him and the office she felt so at home working in. Now she likes the new place, she says. She can even see how it could be a good thing for their relationship to spend some time apart during the day. Of course, there are moments when she has to dash into the ladies room so she can be alone for a minute or two and just cry her eyes out. That's how much she misses him, she confesses. It's not easy spending the whole day away from her man, the man she loves. It's a lot less easy to have to spend some of the nights, too, as his pursuit of an artistic career carries on undeterred.

David appreciates what Star is going through. And he feels flattered, too, he does. What man wouldn't? Beautiful girl like Star crying for him because he is away for a few hours? Because they work five or six blocks away from each other? That is sweet, he thinks to himself. Sweet as sweet gets. But the truth is, he is relieved. Things have become a lot easier to deal with without Star around all day with all her bitching and all her moaning and all her groaning.

He loves her, he repeats to her—and to himself, in thought, time and time again, as if to make sure he believes it's true. It's not that he's uncertain—could it be?—but the thought does cross his mind every once in a while that, if she ever changes her mind about their relationship, she can just pack up and go home, right? Whereas if he changes his mind, what is he going to do? Pack up her things and wish her well? He knows he can't do that. And he won't, that's not the point. Star is his girl and he has every intention to make this thing work. But he would just like to know that there's an option, you know? That if hedetermines it's not working for him, then he can do something about it, too.

"So what is the place like?" He asks her, faking interest in her "new" job.

"It's okay. It's much bigger than where you work, that's for sure," she teases him.

"Oh yeah? What about the people?"

"They're okay. They seem to have more money, sort of. But they're nice," she says, as if being nice were some sort of compensation for the sin that is having money.

"That's it? They're nice?" He probes.

"Yeah. They're nice. What do you want me to say? I don't know anyone but the girls in the office," Star explains.

"What about the dudes? Has anyone hit on you yet?" David asks, revealing where he's going with this.

"Of course not. I don't let anyone hit on me," she says indignantly.

"I didn't say you let them, silly. But you're a beautiful girl. You're hot. I'm sure someone must have hit on you already," he spells out.

"No. Not really."

"All right. If you say so."

"Plus, I don't really talk to any of them. And there are so few men working there. I've only really talked to one guy there, the branch coordinator, and even that didn't last two minutes."

"What did you two talk about?" David asks her with renewed interest.

"I told him he couldn't be sitting behind the reception counter with me. Can you believe I screwed up like that on my first day? I think he was really mad at me," she muses.

"What the fuck was he doing at the reception with you?"

"Nothing, David. He was just doing his work. Talking to clients or something, I don't know. But I was upset over the transfer and I sort of took it out on him, is all," Star explains like it doesn't mean anything.

"Right. And that's it?"

"Yeah. That's it," she declares like she doesn't want to talk about it anymore. A few seconds later, however, she changes her mind. "Apparently he's the office Lothario. They tell me he hits on every woman he meets."

"Is that right? Did he come on to you, then?" David is unstoppable.

"No, not at all. Quite the opposite, actually," Star clarifies.

"You came on to him?" David is clearly joking now.

"Of course not, you idiot," Star says, faking exasperation.

"Well, you'd better stay away from him, is all I know."

"Shut up, David. You have no right to tell me a thing like that," she snaps. "That is so unfair. If one of us should be telling the other to stay away from anyone, that should be me telling you. And you know it," she proclaims, obviously not faking it now.

"Well, I'm just saying," he concludes.

"The girls all say he's cute and he's real smart and all this and all that. But I don't think so. I really don't. I think he's an idiot. And even if I agreed with them, what difference would it make? You're all I think about all day, you son of a bitch!"

Despite her less than affectionate term of endearment, David is glad to hear that. He kisses her passionately, then immediately gets up and makes for the door.

"Where are you going? Are you deejaying tonight? Again?" She asks, disappointed.

"I told you I had a party tonight, Star. You said you didn't want to go, remember?"

"Fuck, David!"

"Come on, Star. You know all I do at these parties is play my records," he says, all self-justifying and shit.

Star can't do anything about it now. It's late and she's worn out. Plus, he's practically got his foot out the door already. Maybe they can talk about this at length some other time, when she's not so hotheaded. Maybe none of this will matter in December, when they fly all the way to her parents' for Christmas and New Year's, like they did last year. When they're there, it seems all their troubles disappear like bubbles in the air. None of the craziness of the big city, none of the money problems, none of the girls who hit on her multitalented boyfriend every night—and she is certain that they do, those whores.

For now, she will just let him go. He kisses her forehead impatiently and leaves. She's alone in the apartment, watching some stupid TV show that is bound to put her to sleep quick.

An hour later, Star is not even close to feeling sleepy, so she starts zapping angrily through the channels, changing them so fast she can barely even see what's on. She wishes things were different. Right now she really isn't feeling buoyed with faith. There's an emptiness taking over her senses, and all she wants to do is cry. But she's too tired to even cry. She's all out of tears tonight, completely hollowed out. She's tired of spending so much time all by herself, feeling duped and forlorn, wandering through bookstores and museums during the day and watching TV alone at night.

Oh, well, maybe she can watch the new episode of Sex and the City. That will make her forget her quandaries for a while, she thinks. She loves that show. It reminds her that every girl has a longing, a burning desire that something magic will happen, some kind of fairy tale, and someone will come along, sweep her off her feet, and take her away. It's okay to feel that way, she deliberates as flashes of light make the walls of the dark bedroom seem alive.

As the show unravels on the screen, she concludes there's nothing wrong with her after all.