Finding Karma

by Stacy M Wray

  If I’m honest, I’m not really bothered, just more inquisitive. Which should be a bother in and of itself.

  Jada and I hit the dance floor one more time before calling it a night, our feet unable to keep up with us. Jada talks a mile a minute on the cab ride home while I remain lost in my head, wondering if the man with the blond truly was Lee. My gut says it was.

  The next day I receive a phone call from Lee. My stomach swooshes when his name dances across my screen. Not just because of last night and what I think I saw, but because we haven’t spoken since the night of our big fight regarding Braden. Unresolved issues have been hanging between us like an incomplete crossword puzzle, and I guess it’s time to face the music.

  “Hello?”

  “Karma. How are you?”

  His voice sounds normal, his frustration long gone since that night. “I’m good, Lee.” And then I find that I don’t know what to say to him, the image of last night at the club continually pops into my head, unwanted.

  He chuckles. “That’s all I’m going to get after the last time we spoke?” Ahhh, there it is. His frustration may be gone but the incident is still fresh in his mind. I don’t blame him though, the whole night was highly annoying.

  “I’m sorry about all that,” I tell him, meaning every word, my voice dropping in timbre.

  A slight pause hangs between us before he says, “As I recall, I owe you a dinner, and you owe me an explanation.” His words hold no accusation but are spoken rather deliberately, and I know we need to get this resolved whether I want to or not.

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” I make a point to keep my tone light as if to set the precedent that my explanation is no big deal. A misunderstanding. Hopefully we can move past the subject quickly at dinner and move along to more pressing matters – a very pretty blond.

  “How about I pick you up at eight? I have an important meeting at 6:30, and it might run long.”

  “That sounds fine. I’ll be ready.”

  Just as the call comes to an end, he says, “And, Karma? Wear something sexy.” His voice delivered those last three words in a gravelly whisper, causing my stomach to clench as the line drops.

  Um…okay.

  That’s the last thing I expected at the end of that phone call.

  The rest of the day proves difficult to concentrate, my mind zig-zagging from one thought to the next.

  My outfit.

  The blond.

  My past with Braden.

  Lee.

  My feet find themselves padding into Jada’s room, knowing I would find something that meets the definition of sexy in her closet. I slide the hangers across the metal rod to my right. No. No. Not enough material. Too slutty. No. Too fitted. Too short. Perfect!

  I pull out a regal crepe amethyst dress revealing a decadent neckline, holding it up to me in the mirror on the door. Not owning anything in this shade, I wonder why because it’s stunning. I quickly check the size on the tag and bite my lower lip. What the hell – it’s worth a try.

  Whipping my shirt over my head and tossing it on the bed, I slide my joggers down my legs and shove them aside with the side of my foot. The zipper pull on the dress is tiny, and I slowly tug it down the back and slide it from the hanger. Gingerly stepping into it, I pull the heavy material up, slipping my arms into the small capped sleeves, then zip up the back the best I can. I feel like royalty in this color. And the neckline – slightly sweetheart and sits off the tops of my shoulders, showing off my decollete. This is classy sexy.

  I squeal with delight when I realize it fits. Then I text Jada to see if it’s okay that I borrow it this evening. I get a response right away: Absolutely.

  Retrieving my clothes, I run back to my room, not wanting to remove the dress yet, and scour my closet for a pair of shoes that might just do this beauty justice. I go with a classic black pair with a do-able heel. Then I remember I have a black fabric choker that was made for this neckline.

  Lee’s not going to know what hit him.

  * * *

  We’ve just been seated at a corner table at Laredo Park, a swanky Mediterranean place in the NoHo Arts District. The ride over was filled with mixed signals. I was sure my dress hit the mark if the strained material in his pants on the drive over was any indication. That, and the fact he couldn’t keep his eyes off my chest. But it also seemed as if Lee was waging his own little war inside his head, the lack of conversation a sure sign. Lee was never one to let an uncomfortable silence linger between us. Even in the short time I’d known him, it’s an observation I’d made early on.

  Once our wine has been placed on the table, Lee doesn’t hesitate to tilt the bottle over our glasses, the rich yellow liquid, once poured, casting a copper glow. I immediately bring mine to my lips, needing the Chardonnay as an aid for what’s to come – whatever it is.

  Lee does the same, never taking his eyes off mine. What is he thinking?

  I look around the restaurant, avoiding his continual stare. “This is a really nice place. Have you been here before?”

  Setting his glass on the dark wood of the table, he sits back in his chair and studies me for a minute. “Yes, Karma, I’ve been here several times.”

  I nod once, his mood starting to make me fidgety. So, finally, I just say, “Look, Lee, if you’ve got something to say, just say it.”

  He sighs heavily, no amusement in his eyes whatsoever. I reach for my wine again, drinking more sips in a row than is probably deemed appropriate for casual dining. I can’t stand the way his eyes probe into me.

  The waitress approaches our table, and Lee holds up his hand, signaling that we aren’t ready for her, and she retreats, leaving us to the uncomfortable aura that hovers over our table space. “Who is he?” His voice is low, demanding.

  Buying myself a few more uneasy seconds, I respond, “Who is who?” I release a breath, indicating how tired of this I am already.

  His eyebrow raises and that’s all I’m going to get. Jesus. “His name is Braden and he’s my boss.”

  His captivating glare makes me feel like a pitiful mouse that’s being toyed with by the captor cat. It’s unbelievably unnerving. And he knows exactly what he’s doing.

  These long, deliberate pauses make me wonder if we’ll even get to the main point by the time this restaurant closes for the night.

  Finally, he says, “Are you fucking him?”

  Unable to help myself, a gasp slips out, hardly believing he asked me that, my hand flying to my chest in an attempt to calm from the words he’s just flung across the table. “Excuse me?”

  Practically rolling his eyes, he says, “Don’t play coy with me, Karma. You heard me.” He rests his right elbow on the edge of the table, extending his hand to his mouth while his index finger presses on his lips.

  Is he trained in the act of intimidation? If he took some kind of class, I’m sure he received high marks.

  Exhausted by his tactics already, I exaggerate the rolling of my own eyes and flippantly answer, “Sorry to disappoint you, but no.”

  No reaction. Calm. Cool. Not even a blink. Oh, wait, his finger just slid to his chin. But I don’t know what that means. I didn’t take the course.

  Now he leans forward, placing both forearms on the table, one of them pressing on his rolled up utensil-filled napkin. He shoves it away in annoyance with his elbow. “I’ve been around the block or two, Karma. And over the years – and I’ve got many on you – I’ve picked up on how men receive each other when there’s a beautiful woman involved. That man has most definitely fucked you.”

  Heat courses through me as my level of discomfort just soared, knowing the pink tinge on my cheeks, ears and neck reveal nothing but admittance. It’s just not the correct admittance. I believe the key word here should be in the past tense, which is exactly what I am right now – fucked.

  I thought I could bullshit through this whole conversation, especially while in this dress. I thought I’d have him eating out of my hands after I convinced him he ha
d nothing to worry about. I guess I underestimated my dinner companion. Immensely.

  Realizing he’s not going to stop until I come clean, I resign to the fact that his teacher would be proud – he broke me. “I’m not currently sleeping with Braden. That happened about five years ago.”

  And…yes! I finally get a reaction. His eyes go wide and his posture stiffens. I can’t help but feel victorious for a moment. But it’s short-lived as I remember the words I just spewed, and my stomach decides to take this moment to announce its anger of having food withheld until this god-awful conversation is finished. That must be in the training manual, too.

  “And you didn’t think to share this vital piece of information with me? Because it’s pretty fucking important, don’t you think, Karma?”

  Feeling like I’m a specimen that’s been slathered on a slab of glass under a microscope, I do the one thing that feels most natural – turn the tables.

  “Who’s the blond?” My foot taps the beat of an unknown tune beneath the table – something extremely allegro – as I realize I could be making a grave mistake. I’m grasping at straws, not certain it was even him. But my gut tells me the odds are better than I expected, and the slightest movement in his eyes proves that I just might be right.

  “I’m sure I don’t know who you’re referring to,” he says, his words as dry as our wine.

  I try another route. “What did you do last night, Lee? Read in your library? Watch CNN until bedtime?”

  His annoyance is palpable, and I can tell he’s in foreign territory, not knowing how to deal with me all of a sudden.

  Already tiring of my line of questioning, he throws my words back at me. “If you’ve got something to say, Karma, just say it.”

  See? It’s no fun to be the mouse.

  “My roommate and I went to a nightclub last night on Magnolia. You know the place?” I ask, tilting my head, a hard smile spread across my face.

  His eyes turn cold and his lips flatten – not the reaction I was going for.

  “So what? I was with a colleague of mine, rewinding after a long day. I’m not fucking her.”

  My sailboat has just teetered over in defeat, my sails now devoid of any wind.

  “Well, I’m not fucking him, either.” I guess my bringing up the blonde was premature. We’ve never had a discussion determining what we are or aren’t. Exclusive? Casual? It’s too soon. Assumptions probably aren’t going to work here. So why does he get to press me about Braden and something that happened before I even met him?

  “But he’s been inside you. I’ve not had the pleasure of being inside the blond,” he says, his words heavy with smug.

  And they linger in the air because I don’t have any to shoo them away with, clearly shocked.

  What the hell am I supposed to say to that?

  The waitress timidly approaches our table and Lee only has to glare at her, leaving her to turn on her heel, clearly annoyed by now.

  Since he’s too busy lecturing me to notice my empty wine glass, I reach across the table, my hand wrapping around the neck of the translucent green bottle. As I pour, I make sure it’s well past the acceptable half-way mark of the glass.

  I don’t bother to fill his.

  Unamused with my silence, he says, “You’re not to see him again.”

  I almost spew my wine across the table, half choking as his words hit me in the middle of my swallow.

  This only annoys him further.

  Gathering myself, I place my wine on the edge of the table. “That’s going to be a little tricky, Lee. As I stated before…he’s my boss at the moment.”

  “I don’t care. Surely there are other jobs out there for you to take on.”

  Is this guy for real? If I didn’t find this so comical, I would definitely let him know what I think of his demand. Instead, I pretend like I don’t have a care in the world. Red flags wave in abundance, this guy’s true colors finally showing through – it’s way too early for anyone to be issuing ultimatums.

  “Not any as lucrative as this one. Besides, it’s almost finished.” I sit back in my chair and drain my wine glass, banging the base on the smooth surface of the table. Then I paste on my most wicked smile.

  I think we’re at an impasse.

  What a fucking waste of a perfectly sexy dress.

  chapter sixteen

  May 2008

  We survived the whole closing of soccer season, and my SAT scores came back – twenty points higher than what I needed to get into UCLA. Braden’s a great teacher. I sent in my application and the next month I received my letter of acceptance. Everything’s falling into place.

  So why am I feeling so anxious?

  After an unusually cold winter, Braden and I venture out on this sunny, crisp day, having just flipped the calendar to May. The temps are in the fifties, and the sun blankets the wilderness as we hike around a small lake.

  I’ve been overwhelmed with how fast this year flew by, still anxious about attending UCLA in the fall. I’ve not voiced my edginess to anyone, thinking I’m being silly, that I’d feel like this preparing to go away to any college. The fear of the unknown is a powerful emotion. Surely I’m not the only senior fighting the gnawing apprehension of leaving the safety and comfort of home.

  “Let’s take a break on that rock over there.” Braden tilts his head towards a flat boulder that’s been wedged between two pine trees. I follow him to the huge rock and Braden sits with his legs in a V shape, patting the spot between them. Sitting down, I lean back as he wraps his arms around me. I could sit like this forever.

  “I can’t believe we’re about to graduate,” he says into my ear.

  I tip my head up and look at him. “I know – I can’t wait.” I turn my head back to watch the clouds float by, relishing the warmth of the sun on my face. Even though I’m anxious about college, I’m ready to be finished with high school, ready to begin the next chapter of my life, standing on my own two feet.

  Sitting in comfortable silence, I feel myself seep into Braden, one cell at a time, until we’ve become one person. I wish I could freeze this moment – no one making demands on him –

  “Karma, I’ve got to go to L.A. two weeks after graduation for soccer training.” I feel like all the air has just been released from my lungs, making it impossible for me to take a breath, let alone form a sentence.

  Jerking my head around to face him, I notice a hint of guilt in his expression while he waits for my reaction. “For how long?”

  His head dips, unable to look me in the eye. “For the whole summer.”

  It feels like an elephant sat on my chest, the weight of his words deflating my prior contentment. I turn my whole body, sitting back on the balls of my feet, fisting my hands at my sides. “Did you just find out or something? Is that why you brought me out here?” I’m trying to keep my emotions in check, having no idea the explanation for his unwillingness to meet my piercing stare. “Braden?”

  Finally, he slowly lifts his eyes to meet mine. “No. I’ve known for a while. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I mean…I didn’t want to ruin these last few weeks before graduation.”

  “Define a while,” I say, as my body tenses up at the thought of him sitting on this information.

  “Karma – ”

  “Just tell me, Braden.”

  He runs both hands through his hair in frustration, taking a deep, pained breath. “Since before spring break.”

  Ahh…spring break. Since it was our senior year, I wanted to go somewhere, just Braden and me. Instead, his parents decided a trip to L.A. to solidify his upcoming year with the soccer team would be a more practical way to spend his week, trumping my plans. Spring break has been a sore subject for me, especially since I ended up doing nothing. Stella would have been my backup plan, but she was already in Germany, participating in the student foreign exchange program, causing her and Jason to break up before she left. She didn’t want to try and carry on a long distance relationship.

  “Jes
us, Braden, that was weeks ago,” I say, through clenched teeth.

  His posture crumples and he quietly answers, “I know – I’m sorry. Like I said, I didn’t want you to be upset this whole time before graduation.” He leans forward, reaching for me, but I’m on my feet before he can touch me, anger coursing through my veins.

  On top of him making this selfish decision on my behalf, it’s just now sinking in I’m going to be alone all summer. I envisioned us being together every waking moment, not being separated the whole time. How dare he withhold this horrid news? I’ve shaped all of my decisions regarding college based on what he wants, what’s best for him, and he has the nerve not to tell me as soon as he found out?

  A shiver runs through me as the sun dips, forcing me to rub my hands along my upper arms for warmth.

  Somehow I don’t think Mother Earth is to blame for my icy mood.

  * * *

  One more week of school – finals have commenced and I don’t understand why they continue to make us still attend. Every class is like a free period and I’m busting to get out of this place.

  I’m in third period, thinking Jeremy is skipping, until he slips into the classroom right before the bell rings. Our teacher starts a movie and says she doesn’t care if we talk amongst ourselves if we keep it down.

  I look at Jeremy. “I thought you were going to leave me hanging.” I kick his leg from the side of my chair.

  “And miss our enlightening conversations? Never.” He smirks back at me.

  He texts someone on his phone and then shoves it in his back pocket.

  “So…what’s the summer plan, Hippie Girl? Globetrotting with Golden Boy?” He laughs at himself. I swear he could have a conversation with himself and enjoy every second.

  Rolling my eyes, and before I realize what I’m divulging, I say, “Braden leaves two weeks after graduation for training.” And I know I just opened a whole therapy session, courtesy of Jeremy Weaver.

  I wait.