Life, Sideways

by Greene, Michaela

  Zoe shoved the pack back into her purse and took another swig of her coffee instead. “So, have I told you about Dr. Lewis yet?”

  I looked over at her. What could I need to know in advance of my appointment? “No, I don’t think so, why?”

  She started up the car but spared a glance for me before backing out of my driveway. “He’s super-hot.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

  She put her foot on the brake, stopping the car with a jerk. Never had I known a person whose driving skills so completely hinged on her emotions. “No, Vicky. You don’t understand. He’s hot with a big capital H.”

  “You think everyone’s hot.”

  A plaintive meow came from the back seat. His timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

  “Shut up back there, you.” Zoë scolded before addressing me. “Fine, doubt me. You’ll see. And the kicker?”

  “What’s that? Is he wealthy? Jewish? Dying to meet me?”

  Zoë smirked. “Well I can’t speak to the dying to meet you part since I had no opportunity to pre-warn him, but he’s available, Jewish and very successful. That clinic he owns has to be a goldmine. If I wasn’t married, I’d do him in a second, and quite frankly if he propositioned me to have an affair, I’d have to think long and hard…”

  “Okay, you really do need to get laid.”

  “Christ, you don’t have to tell me that. But Vicky, I’m serious: this guy’s a catch.”

  “So why’s he still single? Anyone over thirty and still single has to have something wrong with them. God, just look at me.”

  Zoë pulled up to a red light, allowing her to grab her coffee and look at me to explain. “There’s nothing wrong with him. He just focused on starting up the clinic and didn’t have time to date. But I think now that he’s got other vets there working with him, it’s not a twenty-four-seven kind of thing.”

  I did my best Yiddish impression. “Oy, my mother will plotz.” Even though Zoë and I had never had the same taste in guys and I certainly wasn’t looking to hook up, I still couldn’t help but get a little nervous at the prospect of meeting an eligible, successful man.

  Not that I’m looking, I told myself as I flipped down the visor to check my hair in the mirror, but a girl had to look presentable. You just never know.

  After we arrived at the clinic and the receptionist took the stool sample and all of my pertinent information to put into her computer, she led us into an empty examining room, telling us Dr. Lewis would be in shortly. I felt a flutter in my belly and wished Zoë hadn’t said anything. Worse than her hype was the smug look on her face, which, although I chose to ignore it, was still unnerving.

  I bent over and peeked into one of the holes in the carrier, but it was too dark to see anything. “Should I take him out?” I asked my friend, desperate for something to do other than stand stupidly in the center of the room and wait for this supposed hot vet to come in and find me there just standing, looking stupid.

  The door behind me opened. A cheery, “Good morning” reverberated in the room and the eligible, successful vet got a perfect view of my bent-over ass. Nice first impression.

  “Morning Dr. Lewis,” Zoë sang.

  I straightened up and turned, realizing immediately that Zoë deserved an apology. Hell, Zoë deserved a medal. This guy was all she promised and more. The first thing I noticed was the wide toothy smile that almost made my knees weak. It was like my seventh grade crush on Mr. Seville, history teacher extraordinaire, all over again.

  I managed a weak “Morning,” of my own.

  The good doctor looked down at his clipboard and frowned. “Zoë? I wasn’t expecting you today.”

  Zoë’s head dipped as she spoke, her voice an octave too high. “Oh, um this is my friend Vicky. She just adopted this cat from the SPCA yesterday.”

  I stared at my friend. My friend, the normally cool, confident real estate agent whom I’d never, ever seen rattled by a guy.

  Dr. Lewis put down the clipboard and stuck his hand out at me. “Eli Lewis, very nice to meet you…um…” he glanced down at the clipboard, but I beat him to the punch.

  “Vicky Blumenfeld. Nice to meet you as well.” I looked into his eyes, fighting the urge to look away. I was blushing, hot blood rushing into the capillaries of my face. I felt like a foolish schoolgirl, but his smile was absolutely mesmerizing.

  It was he who finally broke the gaze, turning to the cardboard box on the table. A solitary paw was sticking out of one of the holes, grasping at air. “So you adopted from the SPCA, that’s great. I’m just going to have a look at you,” he said to the box as he gingerly opened it up.

  There was some scuffling, but the doctor was able to pull the scared cat from the box.

  I felt it necessary to deliver a warning. “Careful, he scratches.”

  Dr. Lewis smiled and winked at me, “Occupational hazard.”

  I almost melted.

  It occurred to me in that second that I had suddenly turned into one of the groupies who used to harass my husband at his dental practice. I had become what used to be my arch nemesis: the cougar. I fit the bill to a tee: over thirty, (nearly) divorced, on the prowl for a man. Reowr.

  Oh God, would I start to bring Ex in for unnecessary treatments just to get a glimpse of the good doctor? Maybe I would turn into one of those ladies who hoarded cats, just so I always had a valid excuse to come see him.

  “Vicky? Hello?” Zoë’s voice brought me back.

  Shit! I cleared my throat. “Sorry, Dr. Lewis, what were you saying?”

  “Please, call me Eli. And I was saying you look like you’ve got a very healthy young cat here. What did you say you named him?”

  Feeling very foolish again, I suddenly wished I had named the cat Garfield or Fluffy, or something equally innocuous. “I named him Ex because that’s what you get when you get a divorce. Ha ha, right?”

  One side of Eli’s mouth turned up into a smirk. “I like that, although I’m sorry to hear about the divorce.”

  I shrugged, not sure what to say.

  Thankfully, I had my friend Zoë there to speak for me. “Oh, she’s over all that now. She just moved into her new house and everything.”

  I turned and gave my friend the look. It was clear she wanted me to date this guy so she could live vicariously through me and find out if really he was as good as she had him stacked up to be in her mind. I, however, was not ready to date. I had too much shit on my plate to think about complicating my life further by adding a relationship into the mix. I had only just moved into the house; it was important to at least have food in the pantry and books unpacked and on the shelves before I started even thinking about men.

  “Wow, that’s good to hear,” Eli said, killing me with his smile.

  I smiled back but was eager to get the subject off me and my recent extrication from my marriage. “So you think Ex will settle in okay?”

  Just then, the technician opened the door and poked her head in. “Stool sample looks good.”

  “Thanks,” Dr. Lewis said and grabbed the clipboard to scribble something on the file. Then he turned to me again. “He’ll be fine. Cats get pretty stressed about change, but they are resilient. You’ll see him come around.”

  I exhaled. “That’s a relief, although after I went to bed last night, he did come up and snuggle in with me.”

  “And it’s not like Vicky gets a lot of men in her bed.” Zoë quipped.

  Oh my God.

  Eli chuckled nervously, but as I stood there mortified, I rewarded my belligerent friend with a kick in the shin. My face was as hot as if I’d just downed three oversized glasses of merlot. “Okay, so now that Zoë has totally humiliated me, is there anything else I need to know, Dr. Lewis?”

  “It’s Eli and I think you’re probably okay, although you’re going to want to make an appointment for a neuter.” He glanced at the chart. “Yup, just a neuter, shots are all up to date.”

  Thank God the appointment was coming to a close.
I couldn’t get Zoë out of there fast enough. God help me if she opened her mouth again, she’d probably offer him a blow job on my behalf. “I’ll make an appointment before we leave. Thank you very much…Eli.”

  “My pleasure.” He turned to Zoë. “Always nice to see you, Zoë. Isn’t Captain due in for his yearly checkup soon?”

  Zoë exhaled as though he had just asked her to prom. “I’ll check before we leave.”

  And then he was gone.

  “What is wrong with you?” I hissed as I picked the cardboard carrier up from the floor to put Ex back in.

  “What?” Zoë really didn’t seem to have a clue why I was pissed. “What did I do? I was trying to hook you up with him. He was obviously into you.”

  “Whatever. He was just being nice; the way Dave was always nice to all of his patients. It’s called repeat business.”

  Zoë, back to her normal, non-hormonally charged self, shook her head. “Nah, I think he was into you.”

  “Whatever,” I said again as I packed up the cat, determined not to go there.

  * * *

  After dropping the cat off at home and a quick wardrobe change, it was off to work a short shift at the real estate office. Although fairly uneventful, it was nice to keep busy and be out of the house, thinking about other people’s lives and problems (deals falling through, unsatisfactory home inspections) rather than my own.

  I was really looking forward to a time when I would be able to say I had no drama going on. I was aspiring to a boring life.

  After my shift, I didn’t go home, which was exactly what I wanted to do, at least to check on Ex, but instead forced myself to go to the grocery store to get some food; take-out had lost all its charm. Inasmuch as I was a mediocre cook at best, I could still throw together some wholesome nourishment. Christ, it wasn’t like I had a full-time job to keep me from cooking for myself. Maybe I should take my own advice and sublimate my lack of sex into cooking.

  Satisfied with my new plan, off I headed to my local grocery store.

  I took my time shopping, reading labels, using the notepad in my purse to plan meals and list necessary ingredients. It was quite an undertaking since I didn’t even have a shaker of salt in the house. It was like I was moving out for the first time, although at least then, Mom had sent me off with a care package of food and a starter kit of Tupperware, a pot, frying pan and some dishes and cutlery.

  So I didn’t skip any aisles on my shopping extravaganza and was even starting to feel really good. But then it all came crashing down. And when I say it all came crashing down, I don’t mean I rammed my cart into a huge stack of soup cans, toppling the whole display over. What I mean is that I was standing there, looking at cans of legumes when I heard a female giggle and then a familiar laugh. A man’s laugh. Dave’s laugh.

  I looked up and around me, but the aisle was empty. I cocked my head to listen and ascertained that the voices were coming from pasta, one aisle over. Swallowing past my sudden nausea, I put down the can of black beans I was holding; I needed to concentrate on my next move.

  What was my next move? Go over there and be all nonchalant and cool, “Oh, hi Dave, how’s it going? And who’s this?” or should I do what my legs wanted to do: bolt. I looked down at the full cart. I had spent a long time accumulating this stuff; but more importantly, I needed this stuff. This was not good. But I needed to know one thing: was he with this person or had they run into each other serendipitously?

  Okay, Vicky be casual, I told myself as I took a deep breath and pushed my laden cart around the corner.

  And there they were. Thankfully each had their own cart and she even had a baby car seat wedged in the front of hers, over which Dave was hovering and making googly eyes. Oh yes, Dave was in his element. He was probably more interested in playing with the baby than he was talking to its mother. Satisfied, I turned my awkward cart around and headed back to the legumes. I had every intention of going to check out quickly so as to avoid running into Dave, but I was going to need those black beans for my Mexican dip.

  But then I heard something as I reached for the beans. I heard more of the giggling, which was no major cause for alarm, but then I heard something extremely disturbing from Dave:

  “So I’ll see you on Saturday night. But you really don’t have to get a sitter, I’m happy with the three of us going out for dinner.”

  Wow, Dave, laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you? Okay, so Dave was going on a date with this, what? Yummy mummy or MILF or whatever you call single moms on the prowl and he was probably scaring the shit out of her by suggesting they take the baby on their date.

  All of this was so wrong. It was so wrong that I was forced to hear it with my own ears. If I had heard it on the street or say, from my sister who had heard it from someone who worked at a dental office supplier, then okay. At least then I could remain in my warm pool of denial and treat it as a lie created just to hurt me. But there was no denying this. This was more reality than I could handle. I threw the beans into the cart and hightailed it towards the check-outs. My inner voice screamed at the poor, oblivious cashier to scan my stuff as quickly as possible.

  There was something infinitely wrong with the idea of Dave dating. Dave wasn’t supposed to date. I wasn’t ready to date; Dave was never supposed to be ready to date, not until I was in a serious relationship and had forgotten his favorite color (green), food (steak, medium rare) and animal (penguins).

  Jealousy bubbled up from my gut, making it hard for me to breathe. As I bagged my own groceries to expedite the checking-out process, I began to have some serious doubts about what I had done to end our marriage.

  Had I acted immaturely? Was I just being selfish? I had gone over it in my head hundreds, if not thousands of times, but never before had it felt so urgent, like I was on the edge of a huge chasm and once I jumped, there was no turning back. If Dave was dating, he was looking to move on. He was looking to have a life beyond me and I would inevitably fade into his past. I would become the ex-wife and since we didn’t even share custody of a child, there was no need for us to ever see each other.

  I could see it; after a few months, I’d hear about him from my parents who still saw his parents socially. Then a few months later, I’d see him again in the grocery store, but even if he was alone, I’d dodge him, preferring the cloak-and-dagger avoidance to having to face him. The awkwardness would grow to the point where I’d have to seek out a new dentist for my checkups.

  It was not going to be pretty. The life I had dreamed of and had actually gotten was now reduced to the awkward grocery store sighting or the civil but uncomfortable nod at synagogue during the high holy days.

  As I transferred all the bags into my cart and looked up to thank the cashier, I caught a glimpse of Dave approaching the checkout line to the right of me. I ripped the receipt from the cashier’s hand, shoving it into one of the bags as I stepped into a jog, pushing the full shopping cart ahead of me.

  I can’t live like this, I told myself as I ran from the store.

  Chapter 28

  The doorbell rang right on time at six.

  As I reluctantly opened the door, I was greeted by three smiling faces: Zoë and her two kids.

  “Hey there,” I said in my cheeriest Cool Aunt voice (or so I hoped).

  “Hi,” Will and Andy droned together. It was hard to believe sometimes they weren’t twins, although having been through both of Zoë’s pregnancies, I knew firsthand they weren’t. But they were so close, as close as two brothers could be. Once Zoë had even confided that she was jealous of their bond; they seemed to need her less because they had each other.

  Zoë beamed as she put a hand on the backs of each of her children, gently pushing them towards the living room. She looked great; her hair up in a bun with curled wisps artfully framing her face, and she was even wearing her night-out dress, diamond earrings, and stiletto boots.

  “You look great,” I said, giving her an approving once over. I turned and hollered into the l
iving room where the boys had planted themselves on the sofas, each with their respective game devices. “There’s some chips on the coffee table, guys, help yourselves.” Neither of the boys lifted their heads, but Will reached for the bowl of Doritos.

  “Thanks,” Zoë said, smoothing the front of her dress with her palms. “It will be so nice, you know. Thank you so much for this.” She smiled. “Okay, so I’ll be back next week.”

  The look on my face must have been a good payoff for her joke. “Like hell you will.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Just kidding, just kidding. But you know what?” her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Just thinking about tonight has really steamed things up. Alf’s been giving me the eyes for two days now. When I get back to the car, I’m going to tell him I’m not wearing any underwear. That’ll make dinner at the fancy restaurant pretty interesting.”

  I crossed my arms across my chest. “You slut.”

  Zoë smirked, “I know, I love it. We may not make it to the restaurant.”

  “Just make sure you’re back by one. I’m a newbie at this babysitting thing and I don’t know how much I’ll be able to handle.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Zoë promised. “I’ve threatened them that if they terrorize you, they will lose access to anything that runs on electricity or batteries.”

  I glanced over at the technozombies, marveling at how quiet they were thanks to their electronic devices. As much as I always despised that this generation of kids was turning into social zombies thanks to too much technology, I could certainly sympathize with the parents who were able to keep them entertained and quiet. “Wow, that’s huge.”

  “Yeah, so don’t worry, they should be okay for you. But if one of them does set fire to himself, his brother or you, you’ve got my cell number.”

  I nodded.

  Zoë turned towards the door. “Oh, and by the way?” she said over her shoulder.

  “Yup?” I asked, waiting for some more babysitting advice.

  “I saw Dr. Lewis today and gave him your number.” She almost tripped as she turned and bolted out of my front door and down the porch stairs toward her waiting chariot.