The Apple of My Eye

You've Got to Hide Your Love Away

I honestly did not know what to expect from my conversation with Star the night after our little argument about what was acceptable for her to be doing during the holidays and what was not. The pessimist in me naturally thought she'd simply apologize and say she had thought it through and could not do what I had asked her to do, as much as she hated the idea that she would be losing me if she indeed decided to spend that Christmas and New Year's in the company of her lowlife ex-boyfriend and his mother. It did cross my mind that I had not exactly been a bastion of uprightness in the past few weeks as far as the activities I still occasionally carried out with my former partner were concerned, but, hey, I was in the process of discontinuing that altogether—and I was almost there.

It was both a joy and a relief to find out that David and his mom would not, after all, be flying down south with Star. She had talked to them—well, to him, actually, seeing as she didn't have the nerve to talk to the old woman herself, and I don't blame her. But my little Star—yes, I've appropriated the term, so sue me, David—apparently had had the balls to stand up to him and announce in no uncertain terms that they were not going to be taking that trip together, or any other trip for that matter. That's right. She told him the whole thing was a blatant lie, and she had had enough of lying. And he didn't exactly take it like a man, apparently, but like a little boy whose emotional stability is tantamount to that of a pregnant woman: plenty of shouting alternated with plenty of crying and begging and pleading with her to return to him, with the occasional smashing of inexpensive, easily replaceable objects in between. He was hurt, he made that very clear to her, and he hated my guts, he made that even clearer. I had taken her heart and, apparently, had brainwashed her, too, he said. He was so fucking sorry to see her "go to waste" like this, he added, but he'd be damned if he'd ever take her back again. He screamed the most awful things at her, spit and snot flying everywhere as he bawled furiously. Then he packed up some of his stuff and left, but not without slamming the door for added dramatic effect. If he had a car, I bet he would have screeched those tires, too.

I exulted privately. And I was truly surprised. I now understood the full extension of Star's determination, and I must say I was so proud. Proud of her for having the guts I didn't think I would have in similar circumstances, and proud of myself, too, naturally. I mean, come on, right? Theirs was the love story of the century, against all odds, meant-for-each-other, and all that shit. And here I was, standing tall—though I'm not that tall—filled with delight, holding in my arms the girl I once thought I'd never get my arms around, hearing her tell me how she had rebounded her former lover's attempts to reclaim her heart all over again. That heart was history, buddy. That heart was now mine. Finders keepers, losers weepers, motherfucker.

Star was proud of herself, too, but she was also greatly distressed. And her apprehension was more than justified: what if David's mother decided to go ahead and kick her out of the apartment now? She hadn't been looking for a place or a roommate like her life depended on it, she admitted, and now, with two weeks left to go till Christmas, it was almost impossible to get anything done, and she knew it. They couldn't just throw her out on the street, I reasoned, as that would be against the law. I didn't know if it really was against the law, but it sure sounded like it was. And it sounded as comforting as anything I could think of to say, really, so there it was. If there was a God, then David would not be returning any time soon, that is, he would definitely not be spending any more nights with her in the apartment, and, come January, I could help her find a nice place to live, even if it had to be a little farther from the neighborhood she held in such high regard. That was all I could say, really, and it would have to do for now. Star knew my efforts to placate her anxiety were heartfelt. Then she looked me square in the eye and decided she was just going to have to be the first of the two of us to proclaim, "I love you, Stanley."