by J. J. Murray
“She went to Australia in the middle of an important project?”
Yeah, it does sound suspicious. “Oh, Miss Ross has been working on the Peterson project, I assure you. I have all her notes with me.” In my handy tote bag in my own handwriting. “She gave me quite a bit of information from yesterday’s tour of the plant.”
“I didn’t see you at your desk when I came in. Where are you?”
At JFK eyeing taxis. They all look the same. Who decided taxis should be that shade of yellow? How can you tell which ones won’t rip you off? “Um, I took a half day, Mr. Dunn. I’m getting over a bad chest cold, but I’m all better now.” Yeah, my heart was cluttered, and now it’s clearing. “I’ll be in after lunch, and I’ll bring our ideas straight to you.”
“When will Corrine be back from Macon?” he asks.
Never. “Um, well, you see, she did some snorkeling out in Australia and got stung by a box jellyfish.”
“Nasty sons of bitches.”
I’ll have to send that box jellyfish a thank-you note. “Yes. And she needs to see her doctor Thursday, so she’s going to take the rest of this week off to recover at home. I will be in constant contact with her, so if you need anything, Mr. Dunn, you just give me a call.” And call me first! “Um, she’s turned her cell off. You understand. She doesn’t want to be disturbed. She wants to rest after her, um, harrowing ordeal.”
“And yet in her condition,” Mr. Dunn says, “Corrine flew from Australia to Macon to see Peterson anyway? That’s dedication. That’s determination. That’s the kind of leadership we need around here.”
Yeah, right. She was in Australia waiting on Tom to pleasure her happy space. “Yes sir. It sure is.”
“So what’s our timetable on this Peterson thing?”
Our? What’s he mean by that? “We have a sit-down in the presidential suite at the Millennium on Tuesday.” But I don’t know the time! Shoot. I have to call Mr. Peterson to find out.
“That’s quick. What time?”
“Um, the time hasn’t been confirmed yet. I’ll get right on that. I, um, I talked Mr. Peterson out of having the meeting over at Harrison Hersey and Boulder.”
“Those nasty sons of bitches. I knew they’d try that. How’d you convince Mr. Peterson to do that?”
Yeah. Um, that’s something Corrine, not me, would have done. “Corrine was, um, indisposed, you know, with the box jellyfish sting, so she instructed me to call him.” Well, I kind of told myself to call him, right? “I mentioned fairness and impartiality, and Mr. Peterson agreed wholeheartedly.”
“Good thinking, Shari. That’s the take-charge attitude you need to have to succeed around here.”
Yeah, and here I am taking charge and waving taxis away. “Yes sir.” Do I mention that we have to have the finished product ready to roll for the day before Thanksgiving? Mr. Dunn probably has high blood pressure as rotund as he is, so ... no. It will have to be a surprise to him. And to me. I don’t have anything finished.
“Are we ready for battle?” he asks.
No. “We’ll be ready, Mr. Dunn.”
“I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of HHB. You better be readier than ready.”
Is readier a word? “We’ll, um, we’ll knock ’em dead, Mr. Dunn.” If I live through this.
“I can’t wait to see those sons of bitches when we smoke ’em.”
He’ll ... see ... their faces? “So you’ll be, um, joining us at the Millennium, sir?” Please say no! This isn’t a huge account! I mean, it’s a nice account, don’t get me wrong, but it’s nothing to brag about in Advertising Age.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Mr. Dunn says. “See me as soon as you get in the office with those ideas.”
“Um, will do, Mr. Dunn.”
Click.
He is so rude. Well, hmm. Mr. Dunn will be there. That’s okay, isn’t it? He’ll see me in action and ... I don’t have anything to show! I have so much to do! Who do I call next?
A taxi beeps at me. I shake my head.
I call Tia and fill her in on more of the madness. “Can you think of anything I haven’t thought of?”
“No,” Tia says. “I think you have everything covered, but I am so afraid for you.”
That makes two of us. “It’s okay. I’m good. Oh, could you call Mr. Peterson as Shari and ask if the time for the meeting has been finalized? All I know is that we’re meeting on Tuesday at the Millennium.” I give her Mr. Peterson’s number.
“Am I your assistant now?” Tia asks.
She kind of is. “I owe you big-time, Tia.”
“It is okay,” she says. “Of all the people here, I would gladly be your assistant.”
Tia is such a good person. “Um, Corrine may call the office looking for me. Shoot her to my cell, too. Oh, and if Tom calls, do the same.”
“Tom Sexton?”
How much do I tell her? I have to tell someone about Tom! I want to tell the world about Tom! “Yeah, we’re, um ... we’ve become better acquainted.”
“Why is your voice so soft, Shari? How well acquainted are you with him?”
Pretty darn well. “We’re, um, we’re ... close.”
“How close?”
I can’t tell her that. “Let’s just say that I didn’t mean for this to happen, but I’m glad it did, Tia.”
I hear nothing for several seconds. “What are you saying, Shari?”
“I might have, um, kissed on him. A lot. And he kissed back. A lot.” And we cuddled and snuggled and even spooned a little on the couch. It’s not such an evil couch anymore.
“But he is your boss’s boyfriend,” she whispers.
“Not anymore.” I sigh. I don’t have time to explain all this to her. “He’s wonderful, Tia. Amazing, truly amazing.”
She says something in Spanish. “Your life, Miss Shari, is one big carnival.”
Yes, it is, and I’m caught in the middle of a three-ring circus right now. “I’m going to need all the help you can give me, Tia. I’m going to need your help big-time for the next week or so.”
“I will do what I can. And I will pray for you.”
I love good New York Catholics. “Light some candles, too. I’ll be in this afternoon.”
“I am lighting a candle right now. I keep one in my desk for occasions such as these.”
“Thanks.”
“I hope you know what you are doing.”
So do I. “Bye, Tia. See you soon.”
I look at yet another taxi driver waving to me. What? Get on! Maybe if I move away from the curb I won’t get harassed.
Now how can I totally shut out Corrine until I really need to talk to her? If she’s in the air, she won’t be able to answer me if I call now, so I call her cell and leave a “technical difficulties” message: “Corrine.” I count to three. “Shari.” I count to three. “Dropped.” I count to three. “Damaged.” I count to three. “Broken.” I count to three. “Your message.” I count to five. “Call me.” I count to two. “Office only.” I end the call. Now if Corrine gives up on my cell phone and calls the office, Tia will redirect the call to my cell.
Sometimes I am brilliant.
But brilliance isn’t always perfection.
I’m sure I’m forgetting something.
But so far, so good.
Who’s next?
Bryan?
Bryan.
I need a clean slate. Okay, it’s more like a scorched earth, but I have far too many complications right now to have Bryan show up on Friday—or any day for that matter now that Tom and I are ... bonding? We’ve really already bonded. We’re connecting. Yeah. I can’t have Bryan break that connection even for a second.
If I can just hold Bryan off until after Thanksgiving, if I can keep him away from me for a little while longer, I can ... I can end our relationship. What sense does that make? I can’t just put him on hold and then lower the boom later! I have to end it now.
I zip my North Face jacket to the top. It’s getting a littl
e chilly, and here I am about to do the coldest thing to someone who is, despite his small town mind, lack of vision, and inability to accept my choice of a home, my friend. And it’s the longest friendship I’ve ever had. Maybe that’s the angle I have to take. Shoot. “Let’s be friends” doesn’t mean “let’s be friends” anymore. It means, “We’re through, and I don’t want to see you again.” I just ... I just have to put him off for a few days. That’s all.
What time is it? A little after twelve. I hope he’s still working second shift at Advance Auto. He should be at his apartment. I dial the number.
“Hey, Share. What a nice surprise.”
“Hey. Um, this week has been insane, Bryan. Corrine has me busting my tail over this new account, and I’m afraid I won’t have any quality time for you until after Thanksgiving, so maybe it’s best you just hold off on your visit.” That should do it. Oh. He probably didn’t hear me the first time. “Um, hold off until after Thanksgiving, okay?”
“But I’ve already got my ticket, Share. I got it real cheap. It’s one of those nonrefundable kinds. I gotta drive down to Charlotte to catch the plane, but it’ll only cost me about a hundred bucks to fly nonstop to New York.”
Oh, Bryan! This was not the time to show some sense. The last time he flew out of Roanoke and had to pay seven hundred bucks to fly to LaGuardia. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.” I am so warped. I’m promising to pay for a ticket to bring Bryan back to Brooklyn after Thanksgiving so I can break it off with him forever. How heartless is that?
“Share, I had my heart set on coming up. I cleared my work schedule and everything. I miss you.”
Don’t return the sentiment, Shari. Don’t do it.
But I have to pacify him. I have to make him see things my way.
“I miss you, too, Bryan,” I say. “It’s just that this account is so important, you wouldn’t believe how important, how crucial it is.” How much the rest of my life depends on it.
“No. I guess I wouldn’t believe it. I’ve never understood any of what you do.”
Which is another reason to dump your shortsighted tail. Why can’t I just let him have it now? Because I know him. He’ll fly up here Friday and harass the crap out of me. He might even pull a Stanley Kowalski on me and yell, “Shari!” all night long outside the Brooklyner.
“Bryan, I am so stressed right now. I mean, I’m late for work. I am never late for work.” And no, fool, I do not want to get in your taxi. Fuzzy dice and a hula girl on the dash? Are you kidding? You are a driving cliché, man. Scram!
“You sure there isn’t something else?” he asks.
“There’s nothing else, Bryan.” Just everything else. And someone else. “I’m just swamped.”
“There is something, Share. I can hear it in your voice.”
I take a deep breath. “There’s nothing wrong, Bryan. Really.”
“Girl, I know you. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
What I used to love about this man I now despise. He could always read me so easily. He was a living, breathing shoulder to cry on. “You really want to know?”
“Well, yeah.”
What can I say that will guarantee that he stays there? Hmm. A snowstorm might do it. I look at the sky. It’s only mid-November. Little chance of that. “I’m, um, I’m thinking of coming home for Thanksgiving.” This should jolt him. I haven’t been home for Thanksgiving since moving here. “And it scares me, Bryan, you know?”
“You coming home for good?” he asks.
Another thing I don’t like about Bryan. He can leap to the wildest conclusions based on little or no information. Okay, I sometimes do it, too, but not all the time like Bryan does.
“I’m coming home for a visit, Bryan. You know, turkey, stuffing, seeing my family who still don’t speak to me for leaving home in the first place. It’s already stressing me out just thinking about it.”
“So, what, I was going to come up there and we were gonna travel back together?”
Yet another wrong conclusion. “Um, no. I mean, you can’t come up this week, right? Right?”
“I don’t know, Share. It sounds like you need me.”
Like a hole in the head! “Bryan, I’ll need you next week more when I come home.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Share. Either you need somebody or you don’t, and it doesn’t matter when.”
I never said I needed you, Bryan! Hmm. That taxi looks safe enough. It even looks somewhat clean. “Look, Bryan, I’m about to get into a taxi.”
“You never take a taxi, Share.”
“I know. That’s how crazy it’s been. Promise me you won’t waste your time and just show up on Friday. I will have no time for you, no time at all.”
“But I already paid for the ticket. I might as well use it, right? I’ll see you when I can.”
I get in the backseat. “William Street, Lower Manhattan.”
The driver nods and pulls away from the curb.
“Bryan, you really can’t come up Friday. I won’t be able to see you.” Hey—I can escape to Tom’s house in Great Neck. Yeah. And if Bryan flies up anyway—no. He’ll have no place to stay, and Brooklyn is no place for a country boy to wander around in. “I mean that, Bryan. I can’t see you at all. I have told you before that when we work a project, we have no time for anyone. I may not even come back to the apartment all weekend or even Monday or Tuesday.” I’m really stretching it here. “We are on a serious deadline here.”
After a long pause, Bryan says, “You serious about coming home for Thanksgiving?”
No. “Yes.”
“You’ve said that before.”
Oh man, as part of an unimportant conversation, not as something I actually meant! “I mean it this time.” I really ought to. I need to rebuild a few bridges in my life. Just not next week!
“Well, I don’t believe you. You sound like you’re falling apart, Share.”
I am, but... “I’m fine, Bryan. Really. I’ve never been better.” “You can’t fool me, Share. I’m coming up Friday anyway. You need me.”
I bang my head against the seat. “Bryan, please don’t come up. I’m begging you.”
“Now I know I have to come up. You’ve never begged for nothing as long as I’ve known you. I told you that place would get to you one day.”
He is such a caring, sensitive man, but ... “Okay, Bryan, you got me.” The gloves have to come off. “I have been holding back on you.”
Silence on his end.
“I’m, um, I hate to break this to you, but ...” I hate myself. “I met somebody.”
“Somebody ... else?”
That’s what the phrase means, man! “Yes.”
“Since we last talked?”
Yes and no. “I’ve known him for five years.” Oh, man. I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve just opened a can of worms for a man who likes to fish.
“You’ve been seeing him behind my back for five years?”
I can’t remember the last time Bryan yelled at me. “It’s not like that.” I look at the driver looking at me in the rearview mirror instead of at the road. “Watch where you’re going!”
The driver’s eyes return to the road.
“You talking to him now?” Bryan asks.
Twice he yells at me. “No, I was talking to the taxi driver.” He’s looking at me again? “May I help you?”
The driver throws up his right hand and scowls.
“This is not taxicab confessions, mister.” Okay, it is. “Sorry about that, Bryan.”
“I don’t understand, Share. You’ve known this guy for five years, and now all of a sudden ...”
“I’m sorry, Bryan, but I am who I am, and, as sad as this is for me to say, I ... I’m not interested in you anymore.” I am the worst person on Planet Earth right now. Sure enough, here come the tears.
“You sure seemed interested in me the last time I came up there.”
“And I was—then.” Sort of. I was just so lonely, and he was about to pop the
question, and I didn’t want to answer. “This all happened so fast, Bryan.” I wipe away a tear.
“But you just said it was five years in the making.”
I am confusing everyone—me, Bryan, and the stupid driver who keeps looking back here! How can I explain this without hurting Bryan’s feelings? “You remember the junior prom, when you first asked me out?”
“Yeah, but what does that have to do with this?”
Walk with me a bit, Bryan. You’ll see my point. “Remember how long it took you ask me to go?” Forever. Okay, the word forever as defined by a junior girl in high school, which is really only a few weeks.
“Cuz we were friends, Share. Since seventh grade.”
Since I had braces. “Right. I waited four years for you to ask me out.” Not really. We went out all the time, just not as boyfriend and girlfriend.
“I didn’t know you were waiting,” he says.
What an opening! “And I’ve been waiting... .” I really shouldn’t go here, but I have to. “I’ve been waiting twelve years for you to ask me to marry you.” Man, I am the worst person who ever lived.
“But I tried to ask you the last time I was up there!”
I’m so glad I tackled him. “Did you? I didn’t hear you say the words.”
“I couldn’t. You were all up on me.”
Yeah, he remembers. “You were with me after that for two days, Bryan. Did you ask me then? No. Did you have the ring with you?”
“No. I thought we’d go pick one out together. Remember when we used to go look at all the bling at Henebry’s?”
I did a lot of dreaming at that jewelry store, and Bryan was right there beside me. “Yes, I remember, but that was when we were kids, Bryan. We aren’t kids anymore, and I’m past all that now. Besides, you told me you would never move up here. That sealed it for me.”
He’s silent for a few moments. “You never should have left home, Share.”
“As I’ve told you many times before, I am home.”
“You weren’t crazy when you were here.”
True, but I was bored out of my freaking skull. “Bryan, please understand, you’ll always be one of my best friends. Always.”
“Right. One of your best friends. I don’t get you anymore, Share.”
