Tim calls from Las Vegas to check in on our editor positions. Clearly, he is having a great time and is not the least bit remorseful about the suffering of our Lord. My mother would be appalled.
“Claire, I got your e-mails. I slipped out of the casino to call you. So how is it going with the editor position?”
I tell Tim more about my phone interviews and I go on to explain my new strategy, which I will put into action on Monday. He says he has accepted the meeting invitation, and he and Frank look forward to my updates when he gets back.
“That sounds like a proactive approach, Claire. Good work. Also, between you and me, the company desperately needs the sales from the new line.”
“Yes, of course. I know the sales are important.”
“No, I mean if they don’t do well in the next quarter we will be facing massive layoffs.”
Are things that bad? I go to all the meetings and see all the numbers. Have I been so pre-occupied with my personal life that I’ve been ignoring a much bigger problem? I see flashes of me living at my parent’s house, far from my friends, in a houseful of WW2 history books and Fox News 24/7.
“I didn’t realize our situation was so dire. I’ll increase my efforts on this project. Also, I have a manuscript from a potential new author.” Boy, I hope Brandon’s book is still good past page one hundred.
“Really? Any good?”
“Yes, so far. I’m going to pass it on to Pam once I’m done and I’ve made some notes.”
“That’s terrific. Heaven knows, acquisitions isn’t coming up with a damn thing. I am not crazy about this new line either, but we have to stay in step with the times. Modern women don’t get excited over cookbooks anymore, and excitement sells. If we don’t do something to salvage our bottom line, we’ll be selling comic books. Also have the vending machine people refilled the gum?”
I want to tell him that he is the main consumer of the gum, so there’s no inventory problem. Instead I reply, “I’ll check with Cecilia.”
We say our goodbyes and I start pacing around the office. They will let me go in the first round. I’m late all the time, distracted, and training and recruiting are the last things a company needs in a downturn. Rebecca has the essential HR functions covered. Why couldn’t I be the one who is good at settling employee conflicts like a playground monitor or a boxing referee?
I need to be careful about sharing my opinions with other staff. Even my best friend in the office thinks I’m a prude from the dark ages and I am sabotaging the new work, but that’s not true. Is it?
I sit down and rub my temples. My neck hurts again. I wish I could massage my own back. The only productive thing I can do now is read Brandon’s manuscript. I need to get through it this weekend so I can intelligently report on it by Monday.
Four o’clock rolls around and there is no one in the office. I look out at the parking lot and there are about five cars left, so it’s safe to leave for the weekend. I start to shut down my computer when I notice a message from Brandon.
To: Claire McDonald Ratzenberger
From: Brandon Harmon
Re: Book Manuscript
Hi, Claire. Hope you’re enjoying the story! Is Dixie all better from her traumatic experience? I haven’t seen you around lately—I hope you have a Happy Easter! You should stop by some time if you’re around this weekend.
Take care,
Brandon
What the hell does that mean? Stop by? As in walk to his door and ring the bell? Does he want more snack baskets? I decide not to respond, as my texting/e-mailing skills leave something to be desired. I have made an idiot out of myself enough with men lately.
At home on Good Friday evening, I am bored and lonesome. I had pasta for dinner (no meat Mom!). I was going to do my movie marathon tonight, but finishing Brandon’s book was more pressing than watching movies I have seen a hundred times. It is quite well written. The story line resonates emotionally. I would never adopt—it’s too scary. I need to talk to him about this plot. I wonder why he wrote it.
I pace around the house and pick up Dixie. She is so soft and warm. It’s soothing having a little companion. I kiss her tiny head, lay her back down on her blanket and peer out the window.
It’s dark and still. Joe and Sarah have company—there are a bunch of cars lining the street in front of their house. Jane is probably working on Easter baskets. Brandon is probably out, but I do see lights on in his upstairs window. I wonder if that’s his bedroom. Maybe his mother made him stay home on Good Friday, too. It is still early. I could go over there, but what would I say?
Saturday is spent cleaning the house (it’s about time!), shopping for Easter gifts (baskets for Jane’s kids, chocolate bunnies for Jackie, a pretty spring floral arrangement for my mother, and wine for my father), and napping (it’s raining so no lawn mowers). I’m looking forward to spending a quiet evening at Jane and Mike’s house. I have not responded to Brandon’s e-mail. I am pretending I left the office before I saw it. I should have done the same with Justin’s voice mail the other night.
At seven o’clock I walk across the yard with a bottle of wine and Easter baskets for the kids, Shannon, six, and Joey, eight. Jane is making her famous lasagna and I can already taste it. I knock on the door and see at least two dogs trying to greet me, and three cats milling around, but no people. After a minute Shannon comes to the door.
“Hi, Sweetie, how are you?” Seeing her cute round face and blond curly hair always makes me smile.
“Good.” Shannon says this in a sing-song way and shyly gives me a hug. I kneel down to her level to see her toy.
“Which Barbie is that?”
“She’s Barbie Fashionista. Isn’t she pretty?” Shannon pets the doll’s hair and thrusts her forward for my inspection.
“She is gorgeous, just like you.” I reach out to tickle her and she runs away. “Mommy, Claire’s here!”
Barbie actually looks like a hooker in her hot pink mini dress and stiletto glitter boots, but Shannon’s future wardrobe choices are for Jane to deal with. I guess slutty Barbies are more realistic than bride Barbies, and my all-time favorite disappointment machine—Cinderella Barbie!
“I’m in the kitchen!” Jane is frantically running around setting the table and checking on the lasagna.
“Hey, it smells great in here.” I give Jane a hug and set the wine on the counter. I spy a delicious looking chocolate cake. I am tempted to ask to have dessert first, but that won’t fly in a house with kids, and I don’t even want to think about Dr. Mason’s warnings.
“Hi, can you put this bread on the table?” Jane’s face is flushed.
“Claire bear, how’s it goin’?” Mike swoops in for a hug and kisses my cheek. “You haven’t been here in ages.” He spots the wine on the counter and starts opening it.
“Life has been hectic.” I open up the cabinet with the wine glasses and take a few out.
“I know, Babe, Jane has told me a few things.” He winks and looks at Jane. She glares back with a look that says, “Not in front of the kids.” What has she told him?
I give Jane a look that says, “Really, do you have to tell him everything?” But I get it. When I was married and someone asked me not to tell anyone something, I still told Ron. They would have to specifically tell me not to tell him.
“Kids, why don’t you go upstairs and play. Dinner will be a little while.” They run off and the adults sit down in the family room. Mike hands both of us a glass of wine.
“So Claire, the new neighbor is cute, right?” Mike is like a gossipy old woman.
“Yes, he’s cute. Lots of people are cute. Lots of dogs are cute, like little Sammy here.” I pick up their Pekingese and sit him on my lap. “But Sammy isn’t for me and neither is Brandon!”
Jane shoots Mike a nervous look and her eyes dart around the room.
I soften my stance. “I’m sorry, Mike. Honestly, I’m just sexually frustrated. I don’t mean to take it out on you.” I sit back in my chair and star
t petting Sammy.
“Jane’s not. We’ve been having sex constantly. Right, Honey?” He looks at her with a devilish grin.
I give Jane a quizzical look.
“We’re going to my parent’s house in Rochester next week to visit, and we can’t have sex there.” She blinks hard and tightens her lips. “So we’re storing it up.”
“I wish I would have known about storing it up. I might still have some in my attic. I hate to ask this, but why can’t you have sex in your parents’ house? You are over twenty-one and married.”
“For one it’s too small—” Jane begins.
“Too damn cold. You can’t take your clothes off.” Mike looks dead serious, but I know him better.
“How do you shower?”
“Painfully. Everyone is sick all the time because the whole town is freezing cold all year round. When we lived there we were sick at least four out of seven days every week.” Mike exaggerates a bit.
“Even in April? Never mind, the weather in upstate New York is torture. Ron’s sister lived in Syracuse, and one time she called me here on Mother’s Day. It was snowing there and we were at the pool.” The memory gives me a mock shiver.
“So Claire, you seriously can’t find a man to have sex with?”
“Mike!!” Jane looks like she wants to kill him.
“I’m sure I could, but I’m debating whether I should try to get into a relationship or just find a guy and get it over with.” I stare into my wine glass as if it may contain the answer.
“But why?” Jane is confused in the way long term married women always are when the topic of sex comes up.
“To remove the mystique.”
“Yeah, there’s a lot of mystique, Jane.” Mike is going to get punched in a minute.
She gives him another warning look. “What do you mean?”
“I have only been with Ron. Remember I met him in high—”
“Only one guy, Jane.” Mike suffers from attention deficit disorder. Or at least annoying husband disorder.
“Are you a parrot?” She folds her arms and glares at him.
“Don’t you already have one of those?” I thought I saw a bird when I walked in. They would have chickens and goats if it wasn’t for the zoning laws in the county.
“Yes, but apparently, we have two. Isn’t there something you could be doing? Paperwork? Letting the dogs out? Flossing your teeth?” She waves her hand in multiple directions.
“You had sex with other men before Mike (he nods his head in agreement and does not appear to be going anywhere until this conversation ends), and Rebecca must have had a hundred men by now, and I am sure my sister is even in the double digits—”
“Yep, you’re all sluts, Jane.” The pillow hits Mike right in the face. I knew she wasn’t kidding when she asked him to find an activity other than teasing the poor single girl.
“Seriously, why do you want a man?” Jane moves towards him with her hands in strangling position and Mike throws his up in surrender. They are both smirking and he gets up and starts rounding up the dogs.
“Everybody, Mommy is cranky. Let’s go outside.” Several furry creatures run to the door (their dogs obey voice commands and can go out off-leash) and follow Mike out the front door, which he leaves wide open. I don’t say anything, but I was taught to close doors at all times or you will let in “every bug in the neighborhood.”
“Let me help you finish setting the table. So what’s new with the kids? Shannon told me she got a gecko?” I saw her outside the other day and she came running over to tell me about her new pet. I had to hide my look of disgust. The one on the TV insurance commercials is cute, but I would not want any actual crawly things in my house. That gives me the willies more than the old man with the hat.
“Yeah, she loves that thing. It’s adorable. I let it crawl on me while I watch TV.”
Jane should have been a zookeeper.
The table is set. Jane yells “Guys, what does everybody want to drink?”
I’m counting the place settings and getting confused. I am not good at math, but I do know there are five people in this house. So unless one of the dogs has been invited to dinner there is a mystery guest. They’re probably trying to set me up with someone again. I hope it isn’t the newly divorced guy Mike works with at the hospital—the psychiatrist. If it is I am going to kill Jane. I was looking forward to a man-free weekend and a peaceful dinner. I want to stuff myself with lasagna and chocolate cake without feeling like I’m on another Internet date.
“Hey, is anyone here?”
No. She didn’t. Holy crap. She did.
Jane is flustered and comes running to the door. “Yes, we’re here. Did you see Mike in the yard? How are you? Claire’s here. Surprise!” Jane smiles weakly and looks apologetic.
I shoot her an exasperated look. “Hi, Brandon. Let me take those flowers.” I need to do something useful, and he has brought a beautiful Easter floral arrangement.
“Those are so nice. Thank you.” Jane gives him a big hug.
He follows me into the kitchen and we hug awkwardly. It’s not even a hug. It’s more like a weird exchange of arms touching without any destination or purpose. I quickly retreat and busy myself with the salad.
Mike comes back inside with the dog pack, and they disperse back to their various beds and hiding places. I’m grateful for Mike’s presence now, and I hope his nonsense creates a lot of diversion.
“Brandon, my man. Glad you could come. Let me get you some wine.” Mike shakes Brandon’s hand and slaps him on the back.
Jane and I go back to busying ourselves in the kitchen while Mike escorts Brandon to the dining room and calls the kids down. “Let’s go, guys, your mother’s got the grub on the table.”
In the kitchen I am speechless. I am not going to yell at Jane. She means well and Brandon may be lonely. I could be a little nicer. At least there’s chocolate cake.
“What does everyone want to drink? No one ever answers me! Joey, come down here! Shannon, tell your brother to stop playing his game, dinner is ready.” Jane is irritated and I don’t want to add to it, so I take my wine and head to the table.
“Claire, I have something for you.” Shannon is so cute, I immediately smile. She draws pictures for me and makes me silly little things out of toys in her room. One time she gave me a tiny stuffed mouse riding in a matchbox car.
“What do you have, Sweetie?” I bend down and Shannon opens her hand, and before I can even scream in protest a creepy crawly creature has jumped onto my leg, and is making its way up my body. I am horrified, and Shannon and Joey are on the floor screeching in fits of giggles.
“Ahhhhhhhh, get this thing off me. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Running around the house in circles is not going to help because this creature can hold on tight, and I know staying still and removing it would be the better choice. However, I have lost all sense of reason and he’s a quick mover.
By now, Mike, Jane and Brandon have obviously come in search of me to find out what’s wrong. The two laughing hooligans are enough to help Jane figure it out. “Shannon, did you put Simon on Claire? Claire, stop running, stay still and I’ll get him off!”
Now he has moved up my stomach onto my chest. Holy shit! It’s in my shirt! “Ahhh!!!” Simon needs to go, and I don’t care if I have to throw him against the wall. He is heading for my bra, and I run away from everyone towards the formal living room and rip off my shirt. I’m doing this on the fly, and I smack right into Brandon, who is running the circular downstairs floor plan like a NASCAR driver in the opposite direction. He grabs me by the arms, pushes me back, and grabs the little freak before he’s in my cleavage.
The gecko wriggles out of his hand and hits the floor. It scurries away and now everyone is chasing it down before it ends up in the jaws of a curious dog or cat. I’m left in the living room alone with Brandon, and my face is burning with mortification and perspiration.
He bursts into hysterical fits of laughter. “I’m sorry, but
that was hilarious. Now that it’s over.”
I just glare at him while standing there in my pink lace push up bra (at least I didn’t wear my ratty white one). I look at him and his sweet, handsome face (unfortunately he shaved for dinner), I hear the family in the background reuniting their renegade pet with its mischievous owner, and all I can do is silently weep.
“Claire, I’m sorry. Don’t cry. I don’t particularly like creepy things, either. My cousin had a snake when we were kids—”
“Brandon?”
“Yeah?” He looks worried about what’s going to come next.
“Can you find my shirt?” I look down at my feet and fold my arms across my chest.
He glances around the floor, but it isn’t in here. Before he walks out into the hall to see if he can find it, he lifts my chin and looks into my eyes. I’m afraid he’s going to kiss me, yet I wish he would kiss me (even at night, in Jane’s living room, in the front of the house, with the blinds open and the lights on, in my bra). He slowly wipes the tears from each of my eyes, and pulls me into a real hug. “Claire, it’s okay. We need to go eat the lasagna before it gets cold.”
He takes my hand and leads me out of the room in search of my shirt. As we round the corner Jane is coming towards me with it in hand. “Claire, I am so sorry. I can’t believe she did that. I sent her to her room, but now she’s crying. And the food is getting cold.”
I take the shirt and pull it over my head, and run my hands over my messy hair. Brandon is standing there as if he isn’t sure what to do next. I motion up the stairs and say, “I don’t want that poor little thing to cry. I’ll go up and talk to her. We’ll be down in a minute.”
“Thanks.” She gives me a pouty look and says “Brandon, let’s eat.”
“Coming, Mom.” He flashes her a smile and as she turns away he leans down and whispers in my ear, “Nice bra by the way. Is that Victoria’s Secret? If so, her secret’s out.” He laughs again as I punch him in the arm.
There Are No Men Page 12
