by Kay Manis
I spoke into the phone again. “The ocean is a gentle spirit that soothes me.” This sentence was longer, but I wrote it down in my journal as best as I could, surprised to find I knew some of the words. I underlined the words I didn’t know and added the others to my blue spiral. Maybe I’d ask Hindley to help me with those.
“Hindley,” I said out loud. I realized I wanted to write her name in my journal.
She was in my thoughts right now and I wanted to capture her and record her name forever.
“Tactile,” I said, smiling as I thought about her smooth skin, her gorgeous body wrapped around mine.
I pulled her business card out from my wallet and sat it on the glass tabletop.
“H-I-N-D-L-E-Y,” I spelled out. “H-A-G-E-N.” I memorized every letter before writing her name into my journal.
* * *
Hindley Hagen
* * *
I wrote once.
* * *
Hindley Hagen
* * *
I wrote again.
* * *
Hindley Hagen is my air.
* * *
I stared at the words on the page and smiled.
It was surreal to be writing down my own thoughts on paper. Partially because I didn’t even realize I could write, but mainly because I hadn’t ever appreciated how many thoughts and ideas ran through my head every day.
As I reclined in the lounger, enjoying my tall glass of lemonade, I thought back to Hindley’s words.
You are one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.
The words ‘Rory Gregor’ and ‘smart’ had never been in the same universe before, let alone the same sentence. Yet Hindley not only put them together, she believed them to be true.
I spoke into Google Translator again. “You are smart.” The sentence appeared on my screen and I copied each word in my journal.
* * *
You are smart.
* * *
I recognized all three words and added them into my spiral.
* * *
You are smart. You are smart.
* * *
I stared at the words, absorbing them, letting them sink in, trying to believe them the way Hindley did.
I chuckled at the audacity of my inner-self thinking I was smart. It was a complete sentence though, whether I believed it or not.
Throwing caution to the wind, I wrote another sentence.
* * *
Rory Gregor is smart.
Rory Gregor is smart.
Hindley Hagen is smart.
Rory Gregor and Hindley Hagen
Hindley Hagen and Rory Gregor
* * *
Combining our two names seemed about as farfetched and impossible as putting mine with the word smart. But looking at our names joined together, I was struck by an odd sense of calmness and peace. They felt right. Our names fit, like two lost pieces of a puzzle.
My cell phone buzzed and I glanced at the screen. Hindley’s photo made me smile. It was the one she’d taken of the two of us at her sister’s wedding, her face so animated and mine so…infatuated.
I closed the journal. “What’s up, Drunk Girl?”
“Oh my God, Rory, you’re not going to believe this. I’m so excited.” She sounded breathless, like after sex.
“What?” I asked, adjusting myself.
“They want to do a commercial…with you.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Totally!” she shouted.
“Why?”
“They feel confident that you’ll make it to the X Games, and when you do, they want to run several commercials during the telecast.”
“For real?”
“For real. Can you believe this? Oh my God, I’m so excited,” she squealed. “Are you?”
“Well, yeah. I’ve never done a commercial before, even when I was on top.”
“I know. They love your comeback story and feel like now that you’re clean, you’re the perfect spokesperson for their clean water.”
“When?”
“I told them I have to check with you, but the sooner the better, I think. I checked your schedule and unless it’s changed, you have this coming weekend free.”
“Yeah, I think so. Hold on, let me look at my calendar.” I walked inside to the calendar hanging on the side of my fridge. I stared at the flags stuck on each date that symbolized the countries I would be in on any given day. Luckily, I had most of the world flags memorized, including all fifty states. That’s the only way I kept track of my travels.
In two weeks, I was scheduled to be in France, then in Canada the week after that. If they were serious about the commercial then Hindley was right, the sooner the better.
“I have you in France in two weeks and Canada following that,” Hindley said.
Man, did she already have my schedule memorized?
“As long as you place in the top five in both those competitions and get one or two photos in a magazine, that should give you the International exposure you need for an X Games invitation, don’t you think?”
“How do you know all the requirements for an X Games invite?”
“Rory, I’m your agent. I’ve studied the industry inside and out. Trust me, at this point, I know more than you and Jack combined.”
I laughed, realizing she was right. Hindley was so fuckin’ smart, she’d learned the extreme sports world inside and out just to represent me well. Judging by today’s meeting, it had paid off.
“So, this thing is legit?” I asked. “You think they’re a good company to work with?” Despite Dipshit, I wanted to add.
“They have the highest growing demographics in the market. Kids and adults alike are flocking to this new type of water infused with vitamins, minerals, and electrolytes,” she explained.
“Wow.”
“Yeah. And now, with all the gluten free, allergy free, whatever free bullshit diets, no one wants to take on all the extra calories and preservatives of the other sports drinks. I think this water is perfect for you, and your image.”
“What about the company?”
“It’s a good, solid company as well. They haven’t broken through on some key markets, but I think with you as a spokesperson, they could really do that.”
“Seriously?” I was stunned to realize someone wanted me as a national spokesperson. “You think I could help them sell water?”
“Rory, that’s why they want you. You’re magical. Kids want to be you and parents love your fresh, clean, come back from the trenches story. You’re an amazing athlete and the perfect role model for their brand.”
Hindley thought I was “amazing.” She thought I was “perfect.” I had to remember those two words because I wanted to add them to my journal.
“Hello?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m here, sorry.”
“Why don’t you believe me?”
“Same reason you don’t believe me when I tell you how beautiful you are.”
“Peas, huh?”
I laughed. “Yeah, peas.”
“Open your journal,” she said with authority.
What the hell was she up to?
“Do you have it with you?” she asked.
She was becoming so bossy, and I loved the confidence she had now. I walked back to the deck and sat down in front of my journal.
“I’ve got it,” I said.
“Do you have something to write with?”
I picked up the pen I’d been using earlier. “Yes, Miss Bossy Pants. Why?”
“Go to a blank page.”
I opened the journal to a new sheet. “Okay.”
“Write S-O-N-O-R-A.”
I wrote the letters as she dictated them. “Okay.”
“Do you know how to write the word water?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, surprised that I wasn’t more self-conscious.
“Okay, write W-A-T-E-R.”
I wrote the word as she instructed.
“Beside tha
t word, draw a symbol for water, something that will always make you remember that word.”
That image came quickly—it was the ocean. I drew squiggly lines next to the word, knowing I would have it memorized in no time.
“Wait, I think I actually do know that word, now that I see it written out,” I said, surprised at the excitement in my voice.
“Oh, Rory, that’s awesome!”
Her praise had me smiling.
“Don’t forget to put it in your blue spiral,” she said. “Can you read the first word?” she asked.
I stared at the word longer this time.
Sonora.
“See if you can sound it out. If you can’t, don’t worry, it may become a sight word. I want you to get into the habit of practicing though.”
I trailed my finger across the word. “Sah-oh-nah-oh-rah-ah.”
“Awesome! That’s right. It’s Sonora. Sonora Water Company. That’s who hired you to be their spokesperson. I figured it would probably be a good idea for us to work on those words first, don’t you think?”
She laughed and I joined in her jubilation.
“Yeah, that’s probably true,” I said.
I’d never known how to spell or write the names of any of my past sponsors, and I’d really never given two flips about it either. I was filled with pride, knowing that not only was I going to represent them, but now I would also be able to read their fuckin’ bottle at the store.
“I need you to do one more thing,” she said quietly.
“Okay.”
“Do you know how to write your name?”
“Yes, Hindley, I know how to write my name,” I said, with more offense than I’d intended.
“Don’t get pissy,” she said. “I have to know where we stand.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s all right, I forgive you because you’re so cute and adorable. And because you’re about to become a big, famous commercial star.” She laughed and slowly I felt my self-doubt and loathing dissipating.
I straightened my back and took on a more studious tone. “So, what is it you want me to do, Miss Hagen?”
“That’s better. Now. Turn to a new page in your journal and write out your name.”
I did as she told me. “Wait, I thought this was my journal to be filled with my thoughts.”
“That’s what I want this sentence to become, eventually. A new belief, in yourself.”
“Oh.”
“Do you know the word is?”
“Yes.”
“Write it next to your name.”
“Okay.”
“Do you know how to spell the word smart?”
I froze. It was one thing for me to write it earlier on my own when no one else knew. I wasn’t sure if I could when Hindley asked me.
“Rory? Do you know how to write the word smart?”
“No,” I answered, even though I’d already written it out several times.
She recited, “S-M-A-R-T.”
“Okay.”
“What’s a graphic that makes you think of smart?”
“Your beautiful face.” I half expected her to shrug off my statement with a laugh, but instead, all I heard was silence.
“Then draw my face, if you can.”
Could I? I had her fuckin’ face memorized. I was no Michelangelo so I knew my picture would never do her justice, but it would remind me of what the word meant.
“Now,” she said, “put a period at the end and read the sentence back to me.”
I didn’t want to. I felt awkward, especially because I didn’t believe the statement.
“Rory,” she said.
“Rory Gregor is smart,” I mumbled.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that. Would you please read the sentence again, only this time louder?”
Oh, God, she was making me so…what? Strong. Brave. Free.
“Rory Gregor is smart,” I said with a bit more confidence. It wasn’t a statement I’d ever shout from the rooftops though.
“Much better.” I heard the smile in her voice.
How insane was it that I’d written the same sentence myself, not five minutes before she’d called? And now, she had me put it together into her own sentence. But even crazier than that was the fact she believed the statement to be true. And she was teaching me the same lesson.
“I want you to write that sentence down twenty times before you go to bed tonight,” she said.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“All right, on one condition.” I tucked the pen into the journal then closed it and set it aside.
“What?”
“Do you have something to write with?”
“Yes,” she answered. “What are you up to, Rory Gregor?” I could picture her face scrunched with uncertainty.
“I want you to write out the following words, please.”
She cleared her throat. “All right. I’m ready.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
I smiled, thinking of the sentence I wanted her to write and repeat. “Do you know how to write your name?”
“Yes.” She laughed.
God, I loved that sound. I was growing addicted to all of Hindley’s joyous moments.
“Write down your name,” I said.
“Okay. Now what?”
“Do you know how to write the word is?”
“Yes.” She chuckled. “What are you up to?”
“Just write it,” I said.
“Should I write it next to my name?”
“Yes, please.”
“What next, Mr. Gregor?”
I swallowed down a moan when my dick twitched at her sultry voice.
My next word would be hard for her. She didn’t believe it anymore than I believed I was smart, but she needed to say it to herself as much as I did.
Our new mantras.
“Write the word, beautiful,” I said. An awkward silence filled the air, which didn’t surprise me. “B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L.” I spelled out the word.
Still she remained quiet.
“Hindley, did you hear me?”
“Um hmm,” she mumbled.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure I believe it.”
“Do you believe I’m smart?” I asked.
“Well, of course I do, I wouldn’t have had you write it if—”
She’d obviously caught on to my tactic.
“You’re right. I am smart,” I said, surprised by my own statement. “And you’re beautiful. Now, I want you to write out that sentence twenty times before you go to bed tonight. Understand?”
“Yes, sir. Understood.” I knew she was scared like me, but there was a tone of playfulness in her voice.
“Good girl.”
She laughed again and I felt as if we’d overcome some major obstacle in our relationship, our insecurities dying a little more with each sentence, each word, each letter.
“Listen, I’ve gotta run,” she said. “I’m at the airport waiting to board my plane.”
“How did you get to the airport?” There was a long pause and her silence answered my question. Dipshit. But she was in a good mood and I didn’t want to ruin it for her. “So where do they want to do this, the commercial, I mean?”
“They said they’re flexible, they’ll work around your schedule. I suggested Austin. We’ve got a great film industry there so I know we can secure a good staff for taping the commercial. And it’s not far for either you or the company to travel. And…”
I could hear the excitement in her voice.
I rolled the pen back and forth between my fingers, smiling. “But, where on earth would I stay? It’s such a busy city. Surely I wouldn’t be able to find a room.”
“I can think of one place where I would love for you to stay.”
Her sultry, southern voice reverberated through the line and my entire body stiffened with need.
“I think Austin sounds like heaven,” I said.
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“I think spending the weekend with you sounds like heaven,” she whispered.
“I think spending the weekend in you sounds like heaven,” I groaned.
“Holy shit, Rory.”
Her expletive caught me off guard. “What? What happened?”
“I seriously think I have to go to the restroom and change my panties before my flight. They’re soaking wet.”
“Hindley Hagen, what am I going to do with you?”
“Oh, I can think of several things I’d like for you to do with me, Mr. Gregor.”
I bellowed with laughter. It was still beyond me how any asshat could have ever told her she was bad in bed. Not only was she fan-fucking-tastic in bed, she was pretty fuckin’ awesome over the phone too.
“I think I have to go to the bathroom too.” I chuckled. “For a cold shower.”
“I’ll talk to Sonora about the details then call you when I get back home. Maybe you could sneak in a day before the shoot?”
“Oh, I’ll sneak in all right, Miss Hagen.”
“Bye, Rory. I miss you already.”
“Bye, Drunk Girl.” There was a pause and I realized she wasn’t going to hang up until I gave her the reassurance she needed. “I miss you too, Hindley.”
“Bye,” she whispered just before the line went dead.
I smiled to myself, knowing it was true. I missed her more than she could possibly know, but surprisingly enough, the thought didn’t scare me.
I retrieved my journal and opened it, then began to write.
* * *
Rory Gregor is smart.
Rory Gregor is smart.
* * *
I continued my new mantra as I captured every sensory detail around me. Tactile learning. That’s what Hindley called it.
I seized every minute detail I could—the sight of each wave as it crashed into the shore; the salty taste of the wind; the cold, hard pen in my hand; the seagulls that squawked in the distance. I was in sensory overload, but I understood how it would help me learn.
This moment in time was beautiful, like Hindley.
