35: May Day

The soft May rain fell around Daria but didn't disturb her candle, as thankfully their cozy little apartment had a covered balcony. She wrapped herself more snugly in her afghan on the faded lawn chair where she sat, legs crossed and notebook in her lap. She reached for her coffee and pondered the latest installment of her faux advice column for The Poison Parfait.

Last time, she'd taken on the role of a corrupt financier telling a child how to rig an egg hunt and get some friendly feds to seize the Easter Bunny's assets. Now, our guidance-seeking reader was advised by "The Eighth-Grade Pen Pal You Stopped Writing When You Got a Boyfriend." Daria absent-mindedly nibbled the end of her pen for a moment, then abruptly leaned forward to dispense wisdom on behalf of a long-abandoned writing buddy: "I don't know whether you should get a fucking timeshare in Cabo, Janet. Where have you even been for the last 30 years?"

Daria leaned back and fixed her eyes on a freshly green tree outlined against the early evening sky. She had been avoiding thoughts of the latest email to arrive in their website's inbox, and she would have to find a way to tell Jane about it in—she pulled her phone from the folds of her afghan and checked the time—twenty minutes. The good thing about picking up advertisers, like the comic book store that had found them a month ago, was that they had more funding to get the word out about their site. The kind-of bad news was that they'd just gotten an email inviting them to appear on a local morning show. The office manager/marketing specialist/co-host Edie (it was a small show) had written that she and Gerald would love to have the creators of The Poison Parfait on Hello Sunshine.

Daria knew that appearing on a morning show was about as appealing as a root canal sans novocaine for them both. However, she also knew that Jane absolutely loathed her job at Make My Clay. If they could pick up some advertisers and sell more merchandise, maybe Jane would be able to quit.

So, how to drop this news on her lovely wife when she got home from work? Daria was still considering this when she heard the key turn in the lock through the screen door. Shit! Jane was early.

Daria blew out the candle and emerged from the afghan, realizing as she stood that one of her legs had fallen asleep. She gave it a moment and, once the offending leg stopped feeling like a snowy television screen, she made her way into the kitchen where Jane was tossing her keys onto the counter and looking nonplussed. She looked up to see Daria approaching and gave her a brief smile. Jane walked around the counter and extended her arms in an exhausted, please-hold-me sort of way. Daria walked into them, kissed Jane, and then wrapped her in a hug. She murmured into Jane's black bob, "So how shitty was your day? On a scale of 'trapped in Lil' Buckaroo's Party Barn' to 'ran over someone's dog.' "

Jane sighed and gave Daria a squeeze. "This kid today . . ."

"Mm-hmm?"

"She climbed. My back."

Daria stepped back with a quizzical look on her face, to which Jane responded, "Yup. It was exactly how you're picturing it."

Daria shook her head. "Jesus. Can I get you some tea?

"Yeah, okay—thanks babe. Any kind works. I'm just gonna change quick."

As Daria went through Jane's approximately 75 tea tins, she considered which non-caffeinated concoction was best for this discussion. She took a mauve container from the cabinet and read "Calm Down." Absolutely not. The one behind it was called "Cranberry Catastrophe." Okay, where did Jane find these? Daria decided to play it safe and grabbed a tin simply labeled "Decaf Mint."

The tea was steeping when Jane emerged in oversized flannel pants and a fairly beat-up Mystik Spiral t-shirt. Daria slowly slid the cup of tea across the countertop toward Jane, who raised a brow and said, "Uh-oh."

"So. You know that morning show we viciously mocked in your gynecologist's waiting room?"

Jane's expression went blank for a moment, then she smacked the counter in recognition and replied, "Right! The set had so many fake tropical plants, we thought it looked like a retirement home in the Cretaceous Period."

"Right, that one. Well, one of the hosts is named Edie, and she sent us an email." This was met with a look of confusion. "She and Gerald want us to come on Hello Sunshine and talk about The Poison Parfait."

Jane's eyes widened as she released a quiet, "Aah." For a moment she didn't move, and then she took a slow sip of her tea. She suddenly furrowed her brow and asked, "Is that the show where they had a sloth as a guest and it got diarrhea about halfway through?"

"Uh-huh. All over the handler. And it happened so quickly—you know, considering."

Jane flashed a wry half-smile and set down her cup of tea. She looked at Daria and said, "Okay. What do you think?"

"Hmm," Daria said as she narrowed her eyes. "That was a nifty trick. All right. While I hate everything about this, I think we should do it."

Jane sighed and simply said, "I know."

After a few moments of contemplative silence, Daria walked to the fridge and opened it. "Are you hungry, babe? We've got that leftover Indian food and . . . okay, that's about it."

"Yeah, that sounds good. We can drown our worries in curry."

"Or slap them to death with naan, I suppose," added Daria as she handed a takeout box to her wife. She took several more boxes from the fridge and passed them to Jane, who set them on the counter and retrieved paper plates from the always well-stocked supply.

As they were assembling their dinners, Jane remarked thoughtfully, "I guess it's kind of amazing that our site is going to be on TV."

"It really is. Maybe this will boost our ad and merch sales enough that someone"—she playfully hip-bumped Jane—"will finally feel like she can quit the job she once compared to 'dance class on a sub full of chimps.' "

Jane paused and looked at her. "You really think our site could get that big?"

Daria replied, "Yeah, I think it could."

Jane resumed spreading red curry over her rice and said, "You are getting so laid."

Daria smirked and stole a quick kiss. Then she carried her plate to the microwave, set the cook time, and leaned back against the counter as she turned to face Jane. "You know I'm behind you if you need to get out of Make My Clay today, tomorrow, or next week . . . right?"

Jane nodded. "I know, babe. I am one lucky woman. But," she said, sliding her arms around Daria and leaning in closer, "I don't want to do that to you."

"We would be okay," Daria replied quietly, and kissed her. Jane rested her head on her wife's shoulder and they stood that way, holding each other, until their food was ready and it was time to head to their usual spots on the couch.

As they settled into turmeric-scented bliss to the sounds of Sick, Sad World, Jane suddenly circled back to their impending morning show appearance. "I keep thinking it's one of those prank shows where two guys called Skidmark and The Biscuit meet us at the door with cameras. And The Biscuit yells, 'Yo, we called your MOM and told her about that THING you did in the seventh GRADE!"

Daria snickered and posited another theory. "Or maybe it's one of those game shows where it's more about suffering as spectacle, and less about knowing the atomic weight of strontium. The kind of thing where you have to go down a roller slide seal-style with no bra."

Jane winced and protectively cradled her boobs. "God, I hope not."

A bit later, they had finished their curry and were sitting back down on the couch when Daria said, "Damn, I left my notebook on the balcony."

As she slid back the glass door, she was immediately greeted by the patter of rain—which had picked up speed—and the green scents of spring. She stepped out and stood in the night air, closing her eyes and trying to draw every sound and smell inward. After a few moments, she heard Jane step onto the balcony and gently slide the door closed behind them. She moved next to Daria and murmured, "Maybe we'll get there, and the whole show will just be Edie and Gerald reading aloud excerpts from our tween-age diaries while we try to hide under things."

Daria smiled in the darkness, kissed Jane's cheek, and rested her head on her shoulder. They joined hands and enjoyed the rain in silence.