[From Album #1 – Dean Martin Sings (Dean Martin)]
I closed the door and walked outside. The last thing I heard as I closed the door was her faint sobbing.
Sometimes you don’t do anything wrong but still find a way to make it worse, that’s what makes people exceptional and insufferable.
We had gone to a party of an old friend of mine that night. It was an alright event, nothing too lavish or wild. We had fun, we danced and drank and made out and danced some more.
She was impressive in a crowd, individually too, but she could really work a party. She didn’t give much of a damn after a few drinks and focused on having too good of a time that she just got contagious. And it went the way parties go, people got a little looser, the music got a little better, the night got a little brighter.
Everything went on like that while we were there, we clung to each other and I didn’t mind, if anything we minded everything else around us.
We got a ride home and sat outside for a bit. I thanked her for going with me, those people at the party weren’t her friends and she didn’t really care about them. She went for me and that meant something.
Once we were in the room we started getting ready for bed, I really just took off my boots.
“I don’t like that Jenny girl,” she said, abruptly and as though preparing herself to say more.
“I’m sorry, babe,” I don’t know why I apologized but it just felt like the thing to do, “did she tell you something?”
“No, I don’t like the way she was looking at you,” it sounded like something out of a movie, and not a good one.
I gave out a small laugh, “What do you mean? She wasn’t looking at me.”
“I saw her look at you, Ted,” she said it in a scolding way, but playful like. I was still feeling a bit of the booze and thought she was putting me on, giving me a hard time for nothing.
“You know,” I said, having not thought at all about what I was about to say, “Sal once said her and I would make a good couple.” I laughed, it was all still a joke to me, “I told him he was stupid, I’d never go for her.” I laughed some more and suggested we go to bed.
See, I shouldn’t have said any of that, I figured the last part was somewhat redeeming, but it wasn’t. All she heard was someone thought me and this other person would make a good couple, and if someone thinks that, then other people can think that, and if other people can think that, then everybody can think that. Her jealous paranoia, which I hadn’t been properly introduced to til then was making its entry.
“It’s not funny. I saw her look at you, she likes you,” the hysterical side was starting to creep up to, “I can tell, ok? I have pretty good intuition when it comes to people.” She sounded obnoxious, but mostly wounded. “And why would you say shit like that? Fuck your friends and fuck her.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m just saying, you have nothing to worry about. I never saw her like that, and I never will,” I said as I kept trying to stay afloat.
“You know what I think? I think she’s exactly the kind of girl you’d like to be with. Small and cute and wears dresses, some little hipster bitch.” I wasn’t so much afloat at that point, I was just drowning.
“Marla, stop. Ok, I’m sorry, I said that. But I’m just trying to tell you, that’s not the kind of person I want, I already have the kind of person I want to be with, ok? If you weren’t my type I wouldn’t be with you. I’m certainly not expecting you to change into something else. I’m with you because I want to be with you, not anybody else.” I said it as though learning to swim, not sure if I was getting the hang of it, not sure if any of it got through.
She kept screaming, threw some stuff on the floor and ripped up some other stuff. I didn’t know what to do with her, I tried hugging her but she just shoved me away. Nothing I would say would calm her down. She insisted I was lying, I wasn’t. I was too scared to lie to her, not because of how she was acting, but because I could lose her for it. Despite her episode, I just wanted to hold her and love her.
She calmed down and stood by the dresser, she started crying. I tried talking to her again, told her I loved her and that she was it for me and that nobody else mattered. She wasn’t having it told me to just leave her alone. So I walked outside. I’m pretty good at making things worse. I blamed myself and closed the door behind me while I heard her cry.
I had a cigarette outside and thought about the usual different ways that could’ve gone, the ways it should’ve gone, and hoped it had never gone at all.
I noticed the light in the room went off and I went back inside. I didn’t say anything, I figured I’d said enough. She was laying on the bed, ready to sleep, facing the wall. I crawled into bed and faced away from her.
A minute or two passed and I heard her shuffle behind me. She put her arm around my gut and squeezed me the way she knew I liked.
“I’m sorry, ok?” She said, almost playful, but there was still a lot of hurt and some shame in it.
“It’s ok, babe.” I held her hand that was around me, “I’m sorry, too.”
“I know you’re mine only.”
I shuffled and turned to face her, we kissed and went to sleep.