It was all about him for weeks.
A syrupy litany of 'Angel' and 'My dear', ad nauseam. A hand on the other's thigh while I was running. And kisses all the time. In front of the bookshop. In parking lots of restaurants. At red lights. Right under my nose. Without taking my feelings into consideration.
Once, I was parked in a country path, and they were kissing and panting. A shirt has been unbuttoned, a belt unbuckled. I hate to think what would have happened if a hiker hadn't passed by.
What does he have that I don't? He's useless. He's far less classy and stylish than I am. And he has awful taste in music.
I did my best to pretend not to care. Acting like a sour deserted spouse would only make things worse.
But this morning, it was the final straw.
I had to stop because they wanted to buy wine. It was pouring. Anthony, my Anthony, let me idle and got out, saying to him, "I'll be right back. Stay dry, love." Love!
While he was in the wine shop, the other had the audacity to rummage through the tapes in my glove compartment. I couldn't help myself. I viciously closed it on his hand. He let out a little cry of pain and surprise. He sucked one of his fingers – which was already turning purple, much to my satisfaction -, seemingly listening to something. Then he said softly, "I never thought a car could have feelings."
We talked. Well, he did.
"He loves you. I won't change that. Nobody could anyway."
I gave a threatening roar.
"And I promise you I won't hurt him. We both want him happy, don't we?"
Of course that's what I want. And deep down, I know Anthony couldn't be happy without him. But…
"I understand that you feel neglected. I'll make sure you spend more time together. Just the two of you. Okay?"
Anthony came back and I brought them to the bookshop. Clouds gave way to some sun.
The other exclaimed, "I almost forgot! I told a bookseller from Canterbury that I'd pick up some books today. But I really have to finish my accounts. Would you mind going for me?"
Anthony looked at the now blue sky. Two hours round trip - three for the killjoys who observe speed limits. He smiled (ah, his smile!) and he said, stroking my wheel, "No problem. You know how much I love being on the road with this beauty."
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he doesn't have to choose between us, after all. He has enough love in his heart for me and the angel. We could be happy, the three of us.