The Miracle Girl

by T. B. Markinson

  “I know, and I recognize that this is hard for him. But he has to let me do my job.” I turned to face Claire. “If I don’t, it won’t just be Darrell out of a job.”

  I saw the fear in Claire’s expression and sat down next to her.

  Claire rested her head on my shoulder. “Please. No one at the paper knows about Darrell being Ian’s father.”

  “I would never say a thing.”

  “Not even to Darrell.”

  I put my pinky finger out. It was our thing: the pinky swear. It was the most sacred of vows we made to each other back in the day. She hooked her pinky with mine. I felt comforted and filled with dread. My mind was reeling with ways to make this work. First thing in the morning, I was contacting a headhunter. Not for me, but for Darrell.

  * * *

  I spent the night at Claire’s. Closing my eyes, I remembered our evening together after talking on the deck. We took Ian for ice cream, and I was floored by how much he looked like Darrell. But Ian didn’t have his father’s chip on his shoulder. He was a sweet boy who loved his mom.

  I wondered if Claire was upset when she woke to find me gone. Around four, the trash truck rattled through the neighborhood making one hell of a racket. Claire didn’t stir, probably used to the noise. I slipped out, not wanting to startle Ian in the morning. The last thing I needed was for Ian to ask his father why I was staying the night at his mom’s house.

  I sat in my office, mentally preparing for the meeting with Darrell. My therapist trained me to imagine my happy place when tense. I sat at my desk, with my eyes closed, imagining I was sitting on the beach, listening to the waves.

  A rustling outside my office door drew my attention, and Darrell swaggered in at 7:01. He sat down without being asked.

  “Morning.” His tone was gruff.

  “Good morning, Darrell. How was your son’s recital?”

  “Fine.” He clearly didn’t want to talk about his son.

  I wasn’t comfortable with the subject, either. I was still in shock about the bomb Claire had dropped last night and had no clue how to handle the fallout.

  “Before you start, I spoke with Bill last night.”

  I perked up in my chair. “Oh.” I had spoken with Bill as well before heading to Claire’s.

  “Yeah, so I’m not thrilled with the idea, but count me in.” His eyes bounced all over the room, but never landed on me. The expression on his face was not the expression of a man who supported any ideas that weren’t his own. It was a look of defiant defeat.

  “Good to hear.”

  Darrell cleared his throat, and the sound made me gag. Claire slept with this man?

  “Anything else, boss?” He looked me in the eyes.

  I wanted to put the man in his place, again. “Nope. Not unless there’s something you want to say.”

  “Can’t think of anything.”

  We stared at each other. Finally, Darrell stood. “Well, I have work to do.”

  I nodded, dismissing him.

  As soon as the door was closed, I let out a long breath and whispered, “What an ass.”

  Only Claire could get me into this dilemma. I rubbed my head, frustrated. Every job had a challenge. Managing Darrell might be my biggest yet.

  At forty-four, I realized I had never been with a woman who had a child. Usually that was a deal breaker. Now the idea appealed to me. I was getting soft.

  Now I was dealing with a woman who had a child with an asshole father that I had to see every day and who I had to rein in to convince corporate that we didn’t need to fire him. It would probably be easier to get a Buddhist to intentionally step on an ant, and I imagined that would be nearly impossible.

  My desk phone rang.

  “JJ Cavendish.”

  “Hello, JJ Cavendish. No coffee this morning.” Claire’s flirty voice made the last fifteen minutes worth it.

  “Tell me what kind you want and I’ll bring it to you.”

  “Yes!” I imagined her high-fiving herself. Claire rattled off her order, and I left the office immediately, not embarrassed at all by my lovesick puppy attitude. It felt good to be this giddy. I felt alive.

  I returned with Claire’s coffee, a skinny macchiato, and several large containers of coffee for the morning staff along with dozens of donuts. I bumped into Tim, the creepy salesman, in the parking lot and enlisted his help to carry it all in. I had called Avery a few minutes earlier, and she was already heading to my car.

  “Is this for us?” asked Tim, when he saw the loot in the back seat.

  “Yep.”

  “Do we get this every day?”

  I laughed. “Nope, but I was feeling nice this morning.”

  Tim flashed an overly friendly smile that bordered on seductive. “I like you already.” He brushed against my shoulder.

  I dashed for the door, seeking refuge among others, and left Kung Fu Avery to fend for herself. Something told me she wouldn’t have any issues putting Tim, or any other man, in his place. I imagined her karate chopping Tim without wrinkling her suit. Besides, even though we never discussed it, I was certain she played on my team. When we still lived in New York, occasionally I would bump into her at a gay event. She never went out of her way to let everyone know she was a lesbian, but she never went out of her way to hide it either. I liked that about her. Avery was confident, hard-to-pin-down, and mentally tough. She would make a great executive one day.

  Claire couldn’t help chuckling when she saw all the employees flocking to the coffee and donuts. “They’re like kids in a candy store.”

  Brenda said, “I better grab one before they’re gone. You want your fave, Claire? Chocolate with sprinkles?”

  Claire nodded.

  I beamed. This trick worked wherever I went. One minute they feared you. The next, after giving them a donut, they loved you.

  Brenda handed Claire her donut before retreating to her office.

  “You ready for our meeting?” I motioned for Claire to follow me upstairs.

  We bumped into Darrell on the stairs.

  “Good morning, Darrell,” said Claire in a singsong voice.

  Darrell bit into a bear claw and grunted.

  I left my office door open for Avery and the rest of the team to join us after they grabbed coffee and donuts. While we were still alone I whispered, “He’s so charming.”

  Claire shook her head threateningly.

  “Now. Twitter. Tell me what you know, what you need to know, and how I can help.” I flipped on my boss façade, and we launched into a strategy meeting. The others in the group straggled in with their booty, eager to impress probably in hopes I’d keep bringing in free food and drinks. That motivated them more than the fear that the paper would close.

  Chapter Seven

  One Saturday night, Claire and I were soaking in a hot tub in her backyard. Claire held a glass of red wine in her hand and inspected it like it was an offensive weed in a prize-winning garden.

  “Does it bother you?” she asked.

  “What?” It was a cold March night, and I had just popped up from immersing myself completely in the hot water to take the chill out of my bones. I wiped droplets out of my eyes.

  “That I’m having a glass of wine. That every evening we’re together, which has been often when Ian is with his dad …” Claire raised her eyebrows seductively. “I still have a glass of wine and … you don’t.”

  “No. I was never much of a wine drinker‌—‌too vinegary for me. I only drank it in school if it was the only option.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know that.” Claire splashed water at me.

  “I know. It’s not something I like to talk about, though.” I observed the moon and all the stars. In New York, I’d hardly seen the sky, let alone stars.

  “Hey, that’s not fair. I told you my big secret.”

  “What? That you eat a bag of M&Ms at your desk before most of your staff reports for the day,” I te
ased.

  “Don’t start with me. You are the only person besides my parents who I’ve told that Darrell is Ian’s father.”

  “What name is on the birth certificate?”

  “I didn’t list Darrell.” Claire let out an exasperated growl. “And you’re doing that thing you always do.”

  “What’s that?”

  Claire floated over and wrapped her arms around me, maybe in hopes to squeeze the stubbornness out. “Deflect. You’re a pro at not answering personal questions, but you know how to fish for the information you want. Please, tell me.”

  “You know how everyone calls me the Miracle Girl?” She nodded. “Have you heard the reason why they call me that at work?”

  “I’ve heard a few theories. One: your meteoric rise. Two: your awesome adventures and how you escape animal attacks, like a bear ravaging your tent.” She winked. “Three: you are a superhero.” Claire’s smile warmed my heart.

  “I’ve heard those as well and a few others. All are wrong. Only one person knows the true reason for the name, and she’s the one who gave me the nickname.”

  “Who?”

  “Cora Matthews.”

  Claire whistled. “The CEO.”

  “Yeah, Cora became my mentor early on in my career, long before she became the top dog.”

  My body stiffened, and Claire let her arms fall away from me, knowing I needed space to tell the story.

  “Cora knew I had a problem.” I turned to face Claire. “It wasn’t just booze. I spent most of my days chasing the dragon.”

  Claire tilted her head, confused. “Chasing the dragon … are you referring to pot?”

  I stifled a laugh. “No. I’m not referring to Puff the Magic Dragon. I was into blow, snow, candy cane, white girl, wacky dust … There are many words for it, but you’re probably more familiar with the name cocaine.”

  Claire let out a gasp and put her hand to her chest. Even in school, Claire never did any hard drugs and only smoked weed a couple of times, both times with me, the bad influence.

  “I won’t lie; I was hooked. Cora guessed I had a problem, and she tried getting me to go straight. I kept telling her I was fine. I could handle it. And for the most part I was handling it. I never missed a day of work. I was excelling at work‌—‌advancing even. I had everything under control.” I skimmed my hand along the water.

  I took a deep breath, preparing for the big confession.

  “Then everything was out of control. I don’t even know how or why. One day, I was managing it all. The next, I was screwing up at work, when I bothered to go. Most of the time I said I was working in the field‌—‌that meant I was too amped up to come in. Or too sick.

  “When Cora hadn’t heard from me in a couple of days, she came to my apartment and found me.”

  “What do you mean found you?” Claire’s voice was concerned.

  “I was a complete mess and damn lucky I hadn’t overdosed.”

  “Oh, JJ.”

  I nodded, unable to speak yet.

  “What happened?”

  “Cora gave me an ultimatum: go to rehab or lose my job. If I chose option A, she’d keep my addiction quiet. Save my career in addition to my life. If I went with option B, she’d fire me publically and state the reason, which would have ruined me.”

  Claire sucked in some air indignantly.

  “I can’t blame her. She trusted me, and her reputation was on the line. Not just mine.”

  “What’d you choose?”

  “I went to rehab, of course.” I shrugged.

  Claire’s face clearly showed relief, even in the faint light of the moon.

  “And then I started using as soon as I got out.”

  Claire shook her head, looking like she was unable to say how she felt without showing her disappointment. I had seen that look on many faces, but seeing it on hers was the worst.

  “Cora figured it out. She didn’t give me an ultimatum this time, though. I tried rehab again, after getting arrested for drunk driving, to no avail. Cora was patient. She knew sooner or later I would hit rock bottom, and it didn’t take long. I called her one morning.” My voice broke, and I looked up to the moon with glistening eyes, wishing I was there instead of in the hot tub baring my soul.

  Claire patiently waited, not wanting to push.

  “I woke up one morning … and I was in rough shape.” I didn’t want to say what happened, but I had to say it. Needed to say it. And saying it to Claire‌—‌well, she should know. “It was a Sunday. Not that I knew that when I was on the phone. I went out Friday night, and that was the last thing I remembered. When I woke up that Sunday, I was bruised and bloodied. And that’s not all. I don’t know if I was a willing participant since I have no memory, but I was sore … you know down there.” I motioned to my crotch.

  Claire bit her quivering lower lip, doing her best to stay calm.

  “Cora took me to the hospital once she found me. I didn’t even know where I was when I called her. Some random motel and no one was in sight. The motel room was filthy‌—‌well, you can probably fill in the blanks. I’m sure you’ve seen enough episodes of Law and Order: SVU to envision such a fleabag room.” I tried to laugh it off, but couldn’t. Too many images flooded my brain. I blinked excessively before continuing.

  “They did a rape kit—” My voice stumbled over the word rape. “But … there wasn’t enough evidence, and I didn’t have any recollection‌—‌I was more concerned about keeping everything quiet. Cora miraculously kept my name out of the press, and the cops didn’t follow up much since Cora told them I didn’t want them to because it wasn’t clear what really happened that night. They knew from the tests that I was fucking out of my mind. Completely blotto on coke and booze.”

  Claire reached out to touch me and then pulled her hand back, unsure. “I’m sorry—”

  “It’s okay.” I rubbed my face. “When I was released from the hospital I got on a plane and entered rehab for the third time. Cora flew with me and checked me in. To this day she has never told a soul. But when I came back, she said offhandedly in a meeting that her miracle girl was back. People liked the nickname, even though they didn’t know what it really meant. Only Cora and I knew. A mystique developed around the moniker, and every time I hear it, I cringe. Waking up in that motel‌—‌it was the worst day of my life. Cora rues the day she first used that nickname, but what can she do. She’s a media woman and such name recognition from my nickname helps in the biz. Even I use it to my advantage.” I shrugged, and the action made me feel vulnerable.

  “When did all this happen?”

  “Ten years ago. I’ve been clean ten years.”

  “No relapses … not after …?” Claire’s unfinished sentence hung in the air.

  “One minor blip.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Coke?” Claire nodded. “I miss the anticipation of it.”

  She nodded again, even though I knew she had no idea what that meant. No one did unless they tried it. Even sitting here with her, I wanted that jolt.

  “Do you ever feel like … you know, just trying it?”

  “Yeah. All the time. Like this morning. I saw an Ann Taylor button bag—”

  “A button bag?” Claire butted in, laughing, and then looked away guilty.

  “My dealer sometimes sold me coke that he placed in button bags. Every time I see one of those bags I get this craving.”

  “But you don’t … risk it,” she whispered.

  I shook my head. “I don’t even take cough medicine.” I patted my back, indicating my tattoo. “I got this tattoo after five years of kicking the habit. Cora was there for one of the sessions. It helps remind me of what I’ve overcome and how close I was to losing everything.”

  “And the ‘remember’ tattoo?”

  “To remind me that I’m not the Miracle Girl. Not the way people think.”

  We were silent for a while, unti
l Claire broke it. “Were you and Cora an item?”

  I knew my face showed my surprise. No one had ever guessed about that. “Uh, we did have a relationship‌—‌but no one can know about that.” I sat up straight. “She’s married now. Has a kid.”

  Claire put her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul about any of it.”

  “How did you guess? About Cora, I mean?”

  She raised her left shoulder like she was scratching her ear. “From what I’ve heard, she isn’t the most patient person in the world, but she was with you‌—‌for you to get your act together. There had to be a reason besides business.”

  “You read people well. Maybe I should promote you to be my number two.” I wasn’t joking.

  “Aw, how romantic. Every girl dreams of being called her lover’s number two.”

  I laughed. “You see! The business person in me missed that. You could really help me with the personal aspects. I’m good with spreadsheets, reports, and all that jazz.”

  Claire rested her head against the tub. “I’m perfectly happy in my role, and I’m not sure I want to be that woman. The one who sleeps with the boss and then gets a promotion. And if people find out about Darrell and then you‌—‌my reputation will be shot. Not even the small paper in Fort Collins that’s been trying to recruit me will want me. Besides, you have a great assistant. Trust Avery more.”

  “What paper is recruiting you?” My voice was alarmed.

  “Fort Collins Gazette. I’ve turned them down twice now. I want Ian to be close to his father.”

  I sighed my relief about the paper. The seconds ticked by with neither of us speaking and made me uncomfortable. Claire was the first woman I had told everything to about my stints in rehab, and I worried it would change things between us.

  “Can you do me a favor? Try not to treat me with kid gloves. If you want a glass of wine, have it. And I know the other news might affect things. It was a long time ago. I’m not saying it doesn’t affect me; it does. I just don’t want to ruin … what we have. Especially now that I have you back in my life.”