No Hope for Gomez!

by Graham Parke

  “Oh.”

  Silence.

  I was getting more and more confused. “Why ask me what you’re wearing if you’re wearing the exact same thing I always see you in?”

  “This isn’t going as well as I’d planned,” Dr. Hargrove mumbled.

  “It’s not?”

  Another deep sigh. “I don’t normally wear my lab coat at home, Gomez,” she said. “Not ever. It’s just this once, just tonight.”

  “But why? Why wear one at all?”

  “I thought it might be, you know… exciting.”

  “Really? And is it?”

  A pause. “I’m not so sure anymore. What do you think?”

  I suddenly had a flash of insight. The poor doctor had completely blind-sided me. I was so used to things not going my way, I had no hope of seeing this coming.

  “Anyway,” Dr. Hargrove said, “I guess I should be going…”

  “No, wait!” I’d turn this thing around if it was the last thing I’d do. Now that I understood what was going on, I could do better. “The coat is a real turn-on,” I said. “I mean, when you wear it at home as opposed to at work – very sexy!”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. It’s all, you know, neat and hygienic, but slutty at the same time.”

  “You think so?”

  “Oh, yes. I wish I could see you right now, standing around in that clean, sexy coat.”

  “It’s really tight,” Dr. Hargrove offered. “Especially around my breasts. And it completely hides my fat thighs.”

  “I know it does.” I said. “I know it does. It wraps around you very nicely. And sexily.”

  “And you wouldn’t believe my ass,” she said. “It also looks sexy in my clean lab coat. Very, very, sexy.”

  “I’m sure it does. Tell me more!”

  “Well, the sleeves almost totally cover my weird, bony wrists.”

  “Yeah!”

  “And the padding hides my uneven shoulders.”

  “You got it, baby!”

  “And when I pull up the collar, my neck doesn’t look so wrinkly at all!”

  “No, it doesn’t. Not at all. You’re one sexy doctor!”

  “Thank you, Gomez.” Dr. Hargrove sounded breathless. I was on a roll. I couldn’t believe my luck. “So, Dr. Hargrove,” I said, “I was wondering…”

  “What’s that, Gomez?”

  “Maybe you could help me with this…”

  “What is it, Gomez? What were you wondering?”

  “I was wondering… what are you wearing under your lab coat?”

  Ten points for me! Gomez the Master Seducer! On to the next level!

  A long pause, then, “I have to go.” Dr. Hargrove’s voice was suddenly flat and disinterested. “I hope you have a good night. Bye.”

  “Eh… yes,” I said, wondering what had just happened. “Thank you. I hope you have a good night too.”

 

  Blog entry: Women!

  Who knew how their minds worked? Not me, that much was clear.

  Blog entry: Couldn’t sleep. Far too angry and confused. Got up at 1 a.m., created a new eBay account, and put in a few bids on Hicks. That should get the ball rolling.

  27.

  Blog entry: Woke early but not refreshed. Made a light breakfast and contemplated staying home. Then it occurred to me that I’d have too much time alone with my thoughts, so I opted to open up and hope for some interesting customers to distract me.

  Was going to miss Hicks’ company but I didn’t mind not having to open at nine precisely. Took my time getting ready, found a pair of matching socks.

  Blog entry: Tiptoed down the stairs past Warren’s floor. Apparently today was a good day; he was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he was waiting by the elevators.

  Note to self: Find out what Warren does for a living.

  Blog entry: Quiet day at the store. Only one customer, who didn’t buy anything. Shouldn’t call him a customer actually – he was just another browser. Right away though, I felt something was off. He was dressed correctly – not too sandally, not too normal. He acted correctly – didn’t ask too many questions. And he left me alone, most of the time. But still something wasn’t quite right. I didn’t realize what that was until he rubbed his chin in response to one of my fictional answers. It was his Adam’s apple; it was unusually large and pointy. And as soon as I’d noticed it, I couldn’t take my eyes off it anymore. Every time he swallowed, every time he spoke, my eyes followed the monstrosity all the way down, and then back up again.

  I couldn’t stop myself. I almost sensed the thing scraping against the inside of his skin, stretching his throat to the brink of bursting. How did he not feel that? How did that not cause him excruciating pain?

  I was going to have nightmares for days.

  “You have a really nice store,” he said, after asking some questions about my side tables. “Do you run it by yourself?”

  “I do,” I said. “For the most part. I have a guy coming in to do some sweeping from time to time.”

  “I really like the range of your collection,” he continued, his Adam’s apple jumping from syllable to syllable. “I don’t often come across such diversity. It’s really amazing.”

  “It’s nothing,” I said, trying not to vomit. “This is just what happens to come in.”

  I was about to add a few more void statements when something clicked in my mind. I’d seen this guy before and I remembered where. Pieces of a puzzle I didn’t even know I owned started to fall into place. “So,” I said, “no large, fake moustache today?”

  The customer looked stricken. “What?” he said, touching his face. “Fake moustache? Of course not…”

  “And you’re no longer a fan of the suit-with-sandals combo I see?”

  He glanced down, as if to verify.

  “And I suppose the sombrero is no longer on your favorite items list?”

  His Adam’s apple scraped about nervously. “It’s in the shop,” he croaked. “For repairs.”

  “I see.”

  “Yes.”

  “So…”

  “So?”

  We stared at each other. For a long time we had no idea how this encounter should continue. We’d arrived at a stalemate. My main problem, I suppose, was the fact that he hadn’t done anything illegal. Or immoral. Or even disagreeable. He’d just acted weird, which pissed me off. It made me want to get to the bottom of his odd behavior.

  Minutes passed.

  Neither of us spoke.

  When it was clear he wasn’t going to offer any explanation, I asked him flat out, “Why don’t you just tell me what you really want?”

  He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Well,” he said, “that, eh… would be tax forms.” Then, with more authority, “Yes, I was wondering if I could browse through those boxes some more. I’m looking for a 1984 exemption of import duties statement. Hopefully one with a validity of, say, around 6 months?”

  “Are you sure that’s what you’re after?”

  “Yes, yes. I’ve recently become very interested in import duty exemptions. It’s a very hot and exciting topic right now. As you might well understand.” He tried to smile reassuringly. He didn’t manage.

  I thought about prodding him some more but realized my weariness already outweighed my curiosity. I pointed him to the back and told him to have his way with my administration.

  Blog entry: Started on my blogs but couldn’t help but wonder why I hadn’t noticed the Adam’s apple before. Surely the sombrero and the moustache couldn’t have distracted away from it? Perhaps it was a prosthetic Adam’s apple?

  Then I wondered, briefly, where one might obtain a prosthetic Adam’s apple, and what its primary use would be.

  Blog entry: Sombrero guy didn’t find any exemptions to his liking and left the store empty handed.

  Blog edit: Over the next couple of days he came back several times, nodding a curt hello and disappearing to the back. For the most part he did away with the curious dis
guises, but from time to time he appeared wearing either the fake moustache or the sombrero. I didn’t notice the Adam’s apple again.

  Blog entry: The rest of the day I kept myself busy reading this internet site about picking up girls. My vast resources of time weren’t doing me much good. I needed help focusing them correctly. I needed some expert guidance.

  One section of the site in particular caught my attention. It explained how girls actually liked guys who ignored them. That sounded counter-intuitive at first, but as I read on, it made perfect sense. When a guy played hard to get, a girl felt like she’d really earned something when he finally did notice her. The ignoring had set him apart from all the no-hopers who drooled over her all day. If he’d shown an interest from the beginning, the girl wouldn’t have allowed herself to believe he was interested in anything but her looks.

  I vowed to start playing hard to get with Dr. Hargrove.

  When I thought back over my life, though, I realized I had actually been playing hard to get almost continuously. I’d ignored women intensely (to the point of being a danger to them in traffic). I’d ignored them because I’d assumed I didn’t stand a chance. So why hadn’t all these women tried to jump me?

  Annoyed, I returned to the index page to search for a chapter on playing too hard to get. I must’ve been stone-cold sexy this whole time without even realizing. I must’ve overshot my mark by light years!

  There was no such chapter. Nothing on over-achievers in the ignoring game.

  Morons! They hadn’t even anticipated the likes of me!

  But it might not be a problem. I could still use the information to my advantage. All I had to do to become a total babe magnet was to tone down my ignoring-intensity.

  If I played slightly less hard to get, I’d be in!

  Blog entry: Went home at 2 p.m. Called Hicks. He told me he’d probably be in tomorrow. I said he’d better be, because now my routine was getting upset. I had no idea what to do with this kind of freedom. It wasn’t good for me.

  Told Hicks to concentrate on getting well, but I didn’t take him off eBay yet. I’d do that when he actually showed up for work.

  Blog entry: Milled around my apartment. Suddenly had this intense feeling of being watched. Checked through the blinds but saw no one. The courtyard was empty.

  Had I caught ‘Hargrove’s Disease’?

  Probably not. Someone had actually been watching her.

  Closed my blinds all the way, just in case.

  28.

  Blog entry: Another clinic day.

  I sat in the waiting room feeling apprehensive about seeing Dr. Hargrove. This would be our first meeting since I asked her about her underwear and I wasn’t sure how to behave. Wasn’t sure how she’d behave. I decided I’d have to take my cues from her. If she was angry, I’d be angry (‘why the hell do you keep calling me anyway?’) If she was defensive, I’d be defensive (‘how was I supposed to know you weren’t wearing any underwear?’) If she pretended nothing happened, I’d pretend nothing happened (‘so, I see you’re wearing you lab coat again…’ (no, perhaps something else...)).

  My predecessor came out looking preoccupied. He left the clinic without acknowledging me but I was too stressed to make a big deal about it. Went in and sat down, waited for Dr. Hargrove to greet me. She was standing at a filing cabinet with her back to me.

  Blog entry: Visit went well, all things considered. Dr. Hargrove seemed to be in good spirits and nothing about her demeanor indicated she was still mad. She didn’t make any advances either, though.

  Took my pills, told her about my pee turning deep yellow after my last visit, then answered her form questions. Felt it was time to act. I’d set us upon a path leading nowhere but I wasn’t about to let this almost-beautiful thing between us simply peter out. One final lunge for the gold ring!

  I mustered up all my courage, chose my most relaxed, most I-don’t-care-if-you-say-no tone of voice, and asked, “Dr. Hargrove, how about you and I get a cup of coffee after work?”

  Dr. Hargrove looked up from her form and donned a thoughtful expression. Probably selecting an easy put-down. Not only wasn’t she supposed to fraternize with test subjects, she actually hated me. She hated me with intensity. How could she not? I’d mistakenly shown myself to be the kind of guy (test subject) who stood out in her garden wondering about her underwear. Plus, I’d hardly made it clear whether I meant we should get a coffee after her work, or after mine. Girls don’t like guys who are vague all over the place.

  I’d really killed it now.

  Dr. Hargrove’s thoughtful expression made way for one of sympathy. “Sorry, Gomez,” she said, “I don’t really like coffee.” She shrugged, moved on to the next form question.

  Blog entry: I wasn’t fighting back tears. Of course I wasn’t. My eyes were burning, true, but I reacted differently to the pills every time.

  Blog entry: Who needed girls anyway? When you had a good job – like working in a hip antiques store – and great friends – like Hicks and Warren – who needed female companionship?

  Not me.

  No, Sir!

  Blog entry: Rest of the visit was uneventful. We wrapped things up, made a new appointment, and said our goodbyes. As I opened the door to go, Dr. Hargrove said, “Wait, Gomez. I was thinking…”

  “Yes?”

  “If you don’t mind, I mean, if it fits in with your coffee plans and everything, I’d like to get a Coke with you after work.”

  I was stunned.

  “I mean, after your work, of course, and mine, actually. After both our works. Sorry I didn’t make that clear.” She made an apologetic gesture. “How about it?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

  Dr. Hargrove shot me a seductive smile. “Are you sure? It’s on me.”

  “Well,” I said, subduing a glow that would’ve melted the entire building and parts of the next, “in that case, why not.”

  I Rule!

  I Rock!

  I Rock ’n Rule!

  Told her where to meet me and left before she could change her mind.

  Blog entry: Hurried home and spent a great deal of time trying to figure out what to wear and what to talk about on our first date. Ran my mind ragged, then decided on: (1.) What I was already wearing, and (2.) The weather.

  I was good to go!

  Blog entry: We met up at the deli across from the clinic and chose a booth. Dr. Hargrove smiled and asked if I also thought Coke was great.

  “It’s pretty cool,” I said. “For some things.”

  She giggled, nodded her agreement, then asked me what I’d meant.

  “Well,” I said, “it’s cool for some things, like drinking, but not for others like, say, cleaning carpets.” I shrugged. It’d made sense in my head, but not when I said it out loud. Dr. Hargrove giggled nonetheless, and asked me if maybe I liked good music.

  “Not only that,” I told her, “it’s the only music I like.”

  She took a sip of her Coke, glanced about nervously, then gave me another smile. “It’s so nice to get out,” she said. “I spend all my time cooped up at the clinic, sometimes I forget it’s possible to have a personal life.”

  “Come now,” I said, “pretty doctor like you? I’m sure you go on dates all the time.”

  Dr. Hargrove giggled and said I was funny. I had no idea why. I was about to mention the fair weather we’d been experiencing when her pager went off.

  “Shit,” she said, glancing at the number. “I have to go.” She shot me a devastated look. “It’s an emergency. Not a very big one, I think, but I have to be there anyway. Can you forgive me?”

  I could. I’d almost reached the end of my banter anyway. Any longer and I’d have lost my cool edge.

  Dr. Hargrove stood and dropped some notes on the table. I decided it was time to assess my level of importance in her life. “How about going out at night sometime?” I asked.

  “Sure,” she said. “Sounds like fun, let�
�s do that.”

  “How about going out on a Friday night?”

  “Okay.”

  “How about going out this Friday night?”

  This was the real test. It would tell me if she already had a list of pre-standing engagements and, if so, whether she was willing to break them for me. I tried not to hold my breath as I waited for her answer with kept breath.

  “I’m so sorry, Gomez,” she said. “I have this thing on Friday. Can we make it Saturday?”

  “What thing?”

  “Just a work thing. I don’t really want to go but I have to. You understand, right?”

  “I love work things,” I lied. “They’re always so… interesting. Tell you what, I’ll tag along as your plus one. How’s that?”

  “Well…” She looked at her watch, probably thinking of a way to get out of admitting she was lying. “I don’t know…”

  “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  “It’s just, Gomez, we shouldn’t even be seeing each other, what with you being a test subject and everything. I’d like to go out with you, but to a work thing? That would be pushing it, don’t you think?”

  “Sure,” I said. “No problem. I understand. I’ll see you on Saturday then. Maybe.”

  29.

  Blog entry: Return of the Hicks!

  He was finally well. Or what passed for well in Hicks-world.

  We opened the store together and had a quick chat. I’d really missed the guy, so much so, I’d completely forgotten how annoying and boring he was.

  After a few seconds of conversation I sent him to the back to do some sweeping. The back was getting dusty, though, so it worked out for the best.

  Blog entry: No customers. Bored out of my mind. Decided to call the clinic.

  I told the receptionist I was from ‘The Caterer’ and asked her to confirm a change of venue for the thing on Friday night.