The Boy Next Door (15 page)

To: Mel Fuller

From: Nadine Wilcock

Subject: Now you’re just

making me sick.

Seriously, was I like this when I first started seeing Tony? Because if I was, I don’t understand why none of you shot me. Because this is nauseating. It really is. You’ve got to stop.

Nad

To: Mel Fuller

From: Aaron Spender

Subject: Max Friedlander

Yes, I know. I heard everyone talking about it by the water cooler. Apparently, Fresche was quite the place to be the other night.

Don’t worry—I’m not upset that I wasn’t invited. I quite understand why you mightn’t have wanted me there.

And you needn’t worry that I am writing to you now with the intention of trying to win you back. I realize—at last—that you have found someone else.

I am just writing to say how glad I am for you. Your happiness is all I have ever wished for.

And if you love him, well, then that’s all I need to hear. Because for you to love someone, Melissa, I know he would have to be a truly worthy, truly noble individual. A man who shows you the kind of respect you deserve. A man who won’t ever let you down.

I just want you to know, Melissa, that I would have done just about anything in the world to have been that man for you. I really mean that. If it hadn’t been for Barbara….

But now is not the time or place for what-would-have-beens.

Just know that I am thinking of you, and am pleased to see you looking so radiant with happiness. You deserve it, more than anyone else I have ever known.

Aaron

To: Aaron Spender

From: Mel Fuller

Subject: Max Friedlander

Thanks, Aaron. That was a very sweet message, and it meant a lot to me.

Mel

I want her back.
I don’t want to know what you did with her
. I just want her back. Okay?

Mel

To: Mel Fuller

From: Dolly Vargas

Subject: Your new beau

It is so like you, darling, to show off your shiny new bauble on the one night I couldn’t make it to the unveiling. It isn’t fair. When is he going to come by and take you to lunch or something, so I can say hello? It’s been so long, I can hardly remember what he looks like. Maybe I should just pop over to the Whitney for a little refresher.

XXXOOO

Dolly

To: Nadine Wilcock

From: Mel Fuller

Subject: Nude photo

OH, MY GOD!!!

I forgot all about that self-portrait of Max Friedlander that is supposedly hanging in the Whitney!

The one of him nude!!!

WHAT DO I DO??? I mean, I can’t go LOOK at it, can I? That is so sleazy!

Mel

To: Mel Fuller

From: Nadine Wilcock

Subject: Oh, please

Of course you can go look at it. Which is sleazier, you looking at it, or him taking it and letting them hang it up for everyone in the world to see?

But whatever. Get your purse and follow me. We’ll forgo spinning for a bit of culture, courtesy of the Whitney Museum of American Art.

Nad

To: Stacy Trent

From: John Trent

Subject: I need your

recipe for crab-stuffed flounder. I have decided that since every time I try to take her out, it is a complete disaster, I will simply cook a meal for her instead, in the privacy of my own home.

Or Max Friedlander’s aunt’s home, as the case may be.

Who knows, maybe I’ll even work up the nerve to tell her the truth about me.

Probably not, though.

Also, how do you make those little bread thingies with the tomatoes on top?

John

To: John Trent

From: Stacy Trent

Subject: My bread thingies

I can only assume you mean bruschetta. You toast baguette rounds, then rub the toasted slices with garlic. Then you cut up a bunch of tomatoes and you…

Oh, for God’s sake, John, just call Zabar’s and order it, like a normal person. Then you pretend you made it yourself. You think I can cook? Ha! My roast chicken? Kenny Rogers. My crab-stuffed flounder? Jefferson Market. My hand-cut fries? Frozen from a bag!

Now you know. Don’t tell Jason. It will spoil the magic.

Stacy

To: Dolly Vargas

From: Mel Fuller

Subject: Max Friedlander

Dear Dolly,

Laugh all you want. I don’t happen to think it’s amusing.

I cannot say I think his parents were particularly responsible, either, giving a five-year-old a camera and then letting him play with it in the bathtub. He could have been electrocuted, or something.

Besides, that photo doesn’t even look anything like him.

Mel

To: Mel Fuller

From: Dolly Vargas

Subject: Oh, pooh

You know how much I love to tease you. You’re like the little mentally retarded sister I never had.

Just kidding, darling, just kidding.

Besides, instead of railing against me, you should feel sorry for me. I’m hopelessly in love with your Aaron, and he’ll hardly give me the time of day. He just sits in his little cubicle and looks at the screen saver he’s had made from a photo of the two of you. It’s so pathetic, it almost makes me want to cry.

Except that ever since I had my lids done, I’ve been physically incapable of tears.

By the way, what’s with that skirt you have on? It makes you look poochy.

XXXOOO

Dolly

To: George Sanchez

From: Mel Fuller

Subject: My health

Dear George,

I am writing this from home to let you know I will not be in today
due to the fact that I have woken up with a sore throat, fever, and runny nose.

I left the pages on your desk last night, and there’s plenty for Ronnie to use for tomorrow. Tell her it’s all in the green file folder on my desk.

If you have any questions, you know where to find me.

Mel

P.S.: PLEASE tell Amy Jenkins down in Human Resources that the reason I haven’t logged on today is because I’m out sick! She counted my last sick day as a tardy and it went in my permanent personnel file!

P.P.S.: Can you make sure my Xena Warrior Princess action figure is back on my computer monitor? Somebody took it, but he’s supposed to put it back. Just let me know whether or not he has.

Thanks,

Mel

To: Don and Beverly Fuller

From: Mel Fuller

Subject: My last will and testament

Hi. I’m writing to let you know that I have a terrible cold and that I’m probably going to die. If I do, I want you to know that I’m leaving you and Daddy all the money in my 401K. Please use it to make sure Kenny and Richie go to college. I know they probably won’t want to go to college, seeing as how they both plan on playing
for the NBA when they grow up, but just in case professional sports doesn’t pan out, they should be able to get at least a semester or two out of my $24,324.57.

Please give all my clothes to Crystal Hope, Jer’s new wife. She looks like she could use them.

I don’t know what you should do with my Madame Alexander doll collection. Maybe Robbie and Kelly will have a girl next, and you can give them to her.

My only other worldly possessions are my books. Would you please see that in the event of my demise they all go to my next-door neighbor’s nephew, John? Actually, his real name is Max. You would like him, Mom. All the people from my office met him, and they like him. He is very funny and sweet.

And no, Mom, we are not sleeping together.

Don’t ask me why not, though. I mean, don’t let Daddy read this, but I’m starting to wonder if there’s something the matter with me. Besides the fact that I have this cold, I mean. Because John and I only made out this one time, and since then nothing, nada, zippo.

Maybe I’m a really bad kisser. That’s probably it. That’s probably why every guy I’ve gone out with from Jer on has ended up dumping me. I’m a lousy kisser. I’m short, I have an impossibly small bladder, I have red hair, and I’m a bad kisser.

Let’s just face facts: When I was born, Mom, did the doctor ever mention the words
genetic mutation
? Did he ever mention…oh, I don’t know. The term
biological sport
?

Because that’s what I think I am. Oh, I know: Robbie turned out all right. I guess he doesn’t lack the kissing chromosome I evidently do. Either that or Kelly’s just a bad kisser, too, and couldn’t tell the difference.

I don’t suppose—AHHH! Someone’s at the door!

It’s John! And I look horrible! Mom, I gotta go….

Mel

To: Mel Fuller

From: Don and Beverly Fuller

Subject: Your silly last e-mail

Melissa Ann Marie Fuller!

What on earth was that last e-mail from you all about? You have a little cold, dear. You aren’t dying. Your dolls are staying exactly where they are, in their display case in your bedroom, along with your 4-H medals and Duane County High School diploma.

And what’s this about a boy not thinking you’re a good kisser? Well, if that’s what he thinks, then you tell him he can just go jump in a lake. I’m sure you are a very good kisser.

Don’t you worry, Melissa, there are lots of fish in the sea. You just throw that one back. Your ship will come in. You are much prettier than all those girls I see on the television, especially that one who had sex with that president. You can do better than this boy who thinks you are a bad kisser, and that other one, who had sex with Barbara Bellerieve. You know, I hear she has capped teeth!

So you just tell that boy to bug off, and then you snuggle up in bed and watch
The View
and drink plenty of fluids and especially chicken noodle soup. You’ll be better in no time.

And even though I shouldn’t tell you this—I wanted it to be a surprise—I am sending you a little something that should cheer you right up. All right, it’s a batch of snickerdoodles, your favorite cookies.

So you turn that frown upside down, young lady!

Love,

Mommy

To: Nadine Wilcock

From: Mel Fuller

Subject: Thank you

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

John told me that he called and that you told him I was home sick. So you know what he did next? Really, I don’t want to make you nauseated, but I’m dying to tell someone, so I’ve selected you as my victim:

He went to the Second Avenue Deli and got me chicken soup!

Really! A whole big thing of it! And then he stopped by with the soup, orange juice, a video, and ice cream (plain vanilla, but then I don’t think he knows any better. You’re right, you do have to train them sometimes).

And even though I must have looked totally awful (I had on my cow print pajamas and fuzzy bunny slippers, and you should have seen my hair, hoo boy), when I asked him if he wanted to stay and watch the movie with me (
Rear Window
—I know what you’re thinking, Nadine, but I am sure he has absolutely no idea that I have been spying on him. Besides, I have always politely averted my gaze when it came to watching him undress. Well, except that once, but that was just to settle that all-important boxers-or-briefs question), he said yes!

So I turned the television around on its little cart so we could watch it from the couch, but he said I should be in bed (which it was pretty clear I’d abandoned in order to answer the door—I hadn’t bothered making it or anything, and you should see the ocean of wadded-up Kleenex all around it) and then he made me get back in it, and turned the television around again so it faced the bed.

Then he went into the kitchen—which made me pretty embarrassed…you should have seen all the dishes in my sink—and when he came back out again he had the soup and this big glass of juice on that tray I bought that one time at Pier 1, remember? Only
I’d only used it to hold my laptop over the bathtub, like the lady on those commercials, that time I got the wicked sunburn at Jones Beach, and George was so mean and made me work from home.

Nadine, it was so nice! He lay down on the other side of the bed (not under the covers, though, on top of them) and we watched the movie and I ate my soup and when I was through he broke out the ice cream, and we ate it right out of the container with spoons, and then when the scary part happened, we forgot all about it and it melted, some all over my sheets, which are sticky now, but who cares?

Then when the movie was over I turned it to the Weather Channel, and there was live coverage from Hurricane Jan, which has been decimating the coast of Trinidad! So we watched that for a while, and then I don’t know what happened, I must have had too much Sudafed, but the next thing I knew, he was saying good night and that he’d see me tomorrow, and when I woke up again he was gone, and it was night, and he had done all the dishes.

Not just the dishes from the soup and juice and stuff. ALL the dishes that had been in my sink were washed and sitting in the drying rack.

For a minute I totally thought I was hallucinating, but this morning they were still there. Nadine, he
did my dishes
while I was unconscious, and probably snoring, due to my massive nasal congestion.

Isn’t that the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard? I mean EVER?? I’ve never had a man do my dishes before.

Well, that’s all. I just wanted to brag. I still feel like total crud, though, so I don’t know when I’ll be back at work.

Is Xena where she’s supposed to be? What do you think he did with her? God, I am so glad we broke up. What a WEIRDO!

Mel