Dodging Questions, Yours and Mine

By K. Maag

Chapter 1: Never turn "brokenhearted" into "intoxicated".

It was 11:55 AM in Hopkins, Minnesota, and Robert Bertram Stine had just been left by his girlfriend. Bo was obviously devastated by this new development in his personal life, and when he started to think of something besides her, he only thought of himself. He sat on the twin-sized bed that was swaddled in a rumpled white sheet, and twiddled his smooth thumbs as a single lacrimal pest slid down his lightly freckled cheek. When he realized that he was crying, he quickly wiped his face, since nobody else was there to do it for him. He just didn't get it.

If he had truly understood what had gone wrong, he might have known if the demise was his fault, or her fault, or a mutual failing. They had fallen apart, and he didn't know how to begin. The opportunity for a new beginning was right in front of his nose, but nobody actually takes that opportunity as soon as it is there. He wanted to feel the same way he did a while ago, maybe two months previous to this exact moment. At that point, he was happy. However, at this point, he wondered if Roberta knew that she had left him sullen and alone when she chose to depart.

Bo and Roberta hadn't made the worst couple that the world had ever seen, although it was very easy for any run-of-the-mill cynic to point out that the relationship was doomed based on the fact that their names were Robert and Roberta. If this argument had been presented to either of them before the end of their relationship, it wouldn't have held any water for them, since Robert had gone by Bo in every informal situation since he was four years old and he had tied all of the neckties in his father's chest of drawers into bows. As a couple, they looked completely unsuited for each other in a pleasant sort of way. Bo was born and raised in the Midwest, and with his boyish good looks and tall frame, it was very easy to say that he was a charming young man, at the very least. A 23-year-old actor who specialized in musical theater, he had played several large roles, the most recent of them being Roger in RENT. Based on his bulging witch gray eyes and playful smile, one might have assumed that he was a player, but at heart, he was always devoted to one person at a time, and he gave that one person everything. Roberta Tomasi, from any outside perspective, seemed like an antipode to Bo's sunny appearance. A transplant to the area from Boston, she had moved to Minneapolis to attend the University of Minnesota, which got her away from the people on the Eastern seaboard who had placed importance on all of the wrong things. Without her pointy shoes, she was barely five feet tall, and her good looks did not rely on youth so much as a frank sexuality that was on the fence between vampy and magnetic. At the same young age as Bo, she was already a completely independent investment banker due to her quick completion of her MBA certification (and her skill at interviewing). Despite the fact that her successes were actually about equivalent to Bo's when one considered everything, Roberta placed a lot of importance on financial success, and soon enough, she would definitely be the winner in that area. In addition, despite the fact that this brunette bombshell looked like a femme fatale, nobody would have suspected her. Her nature was monogamous, until now. Now Roberta was merely single.

The minty green walls of the apartment's single bedroom completely opposed Bo's morning breath. He continued to sit on the bed, wearing nothing except a blue t-shirt and white briefs. His fuzzy legs hung over the side as he thought. Roberta Ellen Tomasi, I'd love to watch you sleep again. Didn't I make her happy? If I didn't, I guess I don't deserve her, but I just don't understand! If she loved me, why did she dump me? I lit up around her... but I guess I'm just not good enough for a smart, independent woman like her... It was noon, and he was supposed to meet his best friend Newt in half an hour. He felt it necessary to crush his head against the navy blue and white striped pillow at his disposal once more before getting dressed and departing for lunch.

Bo walked down the street with his hands in his pockets, since it was a short walk to the address his friend had written down. When Bo arrived at the restaurant in a white and blue polo shirt, Wal-Mart jeans, and strappy brown sandals, Newton Woolfson was already sitting down and grinning. Newt had a chauvinistic personality, and his German features, dark hair, and cold blue eyes only intensified this for Bo. This didn't change his status as Bo's former roommate at Augsburg College, but he was about the last person Bo wanted to handle right now. Newt motioned him over, and he sat down. Newt said with a grin, "How are you?" Then he noticed Bo's grim expression, and said, "You look sad."

Bo sighed dramatically. "Roberta broke up with me and left."
Newt groaned a little and began to roll his eyes, and then stopped. "It was doomed anyway, based on the fact that your names were Robert and Roberta."

"You might be right, but I never would have thought that before she broke up with me!"

"You need to visit a strip joint."

"Maybe I do, but I won't want any of them. I just want to hold her one more time."

Newt waved his hands. "The waiter has been standing here for ages now!" He turned to the waiter and said, "We both need big, manly hamburgers." Bo just nodded and let Newt decide what he wanted. He knew he didn't want a hamburger, but there wasn't anything he wanted more.

When they were finished with their food, Newt took Bo for a ride in his hot little silver convertible. Newt drove and whistled "Don't Trust Me" by 3OH!3. Bo sighed and asked, "Must you hum that terrible song?"

"I like it, and this is my car. Shut up."

"Fine."

They drove to inner St. Paul, which took about half an hour, and they stopped at a bar. It was only about 2 PM. After four hours of this, Newt had gotten Bo thoroughly wasted. Newt giggled and rubbed his hands, thinking, It is going to be hilarious watching him audition for Hello Dolly in an hour! He twirled on his bar stool. Meanwhile, Bo thought, Drippy drippy drip goes my next beer. I don't care about my audition, no sirreeeeeeeeee. Watch Roberta tell me I'm not a financially safe choice now, bitches! Glug glug.

Since Newt was responsible for getting Bo back to Minneapolis in time for the audition, he had no time to waste. He dragged Bo out of the bar, put him in his backseat with a barf bag in tow, and drove him to the theater. Bo got out of vehicle after puking his visceral organs into the bag, thanked Newt for the ride, the food, and the beer, and staggered into the building. Newt laughed and sped off.

Author's Note: If you found the content in this story offensive in any way, I feel obligated to inform you that it will not get any better, because Bo's situation has to become more amusing. Thank you for your time, and it would make me very happy if just one person would review this story. :)