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Doug and Carlie (Doug & Carlie Series Book 1)

Page 2

by Lisa Smartt

October 7

  When I was looking for my name tag this afternoon, I saw the business card Mr. Rockford had given me propped up next to that horrible bottle of perfume Mr. Porter gave me for Christmas last year. I hadn’t had the heart to throw it out. The perfume that is. I started to throw the business card in the pink trash can by my bed. But then I thought about all the times Mr. Rockford had held Mrs. Rockford’s purse and the time he came up to me after the high school band concert and said, “Carlie Ann, I’ve never heard a clarinet solo that moved me so much.” That’s exactly what he said. I memorized his words. I thought about the time he and Mrs. Rockford brought a tuna casserole to my grandma after her hip surgery. Wadding up that business card and throwing it in the trash seemed like wadding up the Rockfords and throwing them in the trash. They deserved better than that. My feelings also explained why I still had a bottle of stinky perfume on my dresser like it was a prized trophy or something. So I sat down and wrote a quick e-mail to Mr. Rockford’s great nephew even though he was solid. No, I hadn’t eaten a whole pie. I was fully lucid. I didn’t over think it either. My granny used to say, “Some things you do with your heart, not your head.” This was one of those things.

  Dear Doug,

  I guess the Rockfords told you that they suggested I contact you. They are some of my favorite people in all the world so I decided to follow through. My name is Carlie Ann. I love reading and eating spinach dip. I read Shakespeare in college but it never made me cry and I sometimes think he’s ridiculously wordy. I did cry when I read the letters my grandpa sent my grandma from Korea. I’ll be a college graduate in less than 3 months but I have no real job prospects. I tell people I work out. But I don’t think unpacking large boxes of Hawaiian Punch really counts as a workout in the traditional sense of the word. I work as a cashier and stocker in a boring little wonderful rural store where I know everyone that walks in. I weigh 37 lbs. more than the chart says I should. But I’m done with the chart. At 32, I’ve decided I’m stunning. I would only date a man who agrees. I pay my rent on time and show up 10 minutes early for everything. I go to church every Sunday but I sometimes skip Wednesday nights. I like old people and I tolerate little kids. Every 6 weeks, I dye my hair the color it was when I was 16. I think it’s called Ash Blonde. I’ve attached a recent picture. If you’ve dated more than 5 women in your life, I’m not interested. Reply if you want to correspond.

  Carlie Ann Davidson

  When I pushed send it felt scary. Like the time I joined a late-night infomercial dating site three years ago. I should have known the fee was too low. And the fact that their commercials only ran after 1:00 am should have clued me in. For future reference, if I ever join another online dating site it will be one that runs commercials during football games or 20/20 or shows like “The Office.” I heard from some real losers. They were like Jim Flanders on emotional steroids. I could tell some of them were liars. I don’t know how I knew. I just knew and I’m glad I did. Maybe that’s the difference between being twenty-one and being almost thirty. The ability to know that a twenty-seven-year-old man who has a Master’s degree and “doesn’t care what a woman looks like” is either gay or a liar. I don’t want a man who doesn’t care what a woman looks like. I want a man who thinks I’m beautiful. A man who can’t live without me. A man who wants me in every single way. And I don’t care what Dr. Crusoe says either. I found myself…and the woman I found wants to wake up next to a man…a good man. If the good man is good lookin’ that would be a plus. But that won’t be the case with the Rockfords’ great nephew ’cause he’s solid.

  Doug’s response came the very next morning. It didn’t make my heart flutter or anything. It felt like a nice letter from my grandma. That’s not sayin’ much. My grandma didn’t write things that were very interesting. Mostly boring things like: The cucumbers are comin’ in real big now. Pappa fixed the leak in the church basement and everyone is so proud that we can have potluck dinners again. Joe Bob Crawford plans to run for mayor even though he had that bad stroke last year. Things like that. Maybe Doug’s response wasn’t exactly like that, but it was kind of plain.

  October 8

  Hi Carlie.

  Yes, Aunt Beth called and told me you might send an

  e-mail. I’m 28 and I don’t read that much. I work as a loan officer at First National Bank in Sharon, Tennessee. I’m mostly in charge of farm and rural loans. I meet a lot of farmers and I assess property value sometimes and stuff like that. I don’t wear a tie even though I’m a bank loan officer because my boss said, “Farmers don’t like it when someone shows up in a white shirt and a tie.” He’s smart like that and he’s right. I think a lot of people, not just farmers, don’t like it when someone shows up in a white shirt and a tie. Maybe it’s because funeral directors wear dress clothes. Or maybe it’s because some men think that putting on a tie makes them better than someone else. I’m not sure. I usually wear khaki pants and a plaid long-sleeved dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up a little. I’m not sure why I told you that. It’s not important. I graduated from college when I was 22 because I was one of those kids who did what my parents asked me to do. They never went to college and they told me I should. I did. I majored in marketing. I’m not good at it though. I mean, the folks who came up with that gecko for the Geico commercials, they are brilliant marketers. I’m not very creative and I’m not really interested in marketing anything. I like doing property assessments and loans. And I like not wearing a tie. Write back if you want.

  Doug Jameson

  October 9 7:32 pm

  Doug, you didn’t send a picture. I’ve decided there are a lot of potential reasons for that. Either you have some incredible disfigurement and you want me to first get to know you for you or you are just kind of laid back and didn’t think it was important to attach a picture on the first reply. At first, I thought asking for a picture would make you think I’m shallow. But I’m trying to be painfully honest here. I just want to see the person I’m writing to. I don’t know if an incredible disfigurement would keep me from writing you back or not. It might. But let’s throw caution to the wind and find out, yes?

  Oct. 9 8:16 pm

  Carlie, the picture is attached. I got the one from the church directory 2 years ago which means it’s not that good. This picture looks like I’m running for political office (which I’m not). I will send a more natural-looking picture some other time unless you think I’m disfigured-looking and you choose not to write back. If so, I will know to never send the church directory picture to a woman again.

  Oct. 9 9:03 pm

  Doug, you’re not disfigured at all. You look almost exactly like my 7th grade science teacher, Mr. Harrelson. His hair was curly and brown but not as long as yours. I had a big crush on him but his homework was ridiculous and I’m not good at science. The only thing I’m good at is writing. Writing and telling people where the pork n beans are located. For some reason, a lot of people in our area eat pork n beans. I find that disturbing. Not the beans part but the pork part. You’re right. The picture is not natural-looking at all. I think a loan officer who doesn’t wear a tie would never make a fist like that and put it under his chin.

  October 9 9:41 pm

  I like pork n beans because I spent my summers staying every day at my grandma’s house and she always served hot dogs and pork n beans for lunch. But you’re right. The pork is probably a marginal use of the word. But if they were called tongue and entrails of various animals and beans, how many people would buy them? Yeah. That observation can be chalked up to my 4-year degree in marketing. Calling them pork n beans was a brilliant idea. I wish I had thought of it.

  October 9 9:56 pm

  Do you live alone? I live with my roommate, Clara. She is an unusual girl I knew in high school. She teaches kindergarten and sometimes she forgets to turn off the kindergarten voice and I laugh inside but never out loud because it would hurt her feelings. She has a lot of money saved because our rent is really cheap and she’s a salaried profession
al not a pork n beans stocker. I think she’s saving and investing money for a rainy day. I’m not saving money at all. Pray it stays sunny.

  October 9 10:43 pm

  I live alone. I lived with my grandma for a few years after college but she died 2 years ago. I knew I needed to go out on my own anyway. I want to think I would have done it even if Grandma hadn’t died. But I probably wouldn’t have. I liked having another person in the house plus she needed my help. I’ve lived in a nice one-bedroom apartment for the last 2 years. It’s in the middle of town with very little furniture and nothing but mustard and a jar of homemade pickles in the refrigerator. I’d like to buy a farm. But I’m a lot like Clara. I always feel like there’s a rain cloud overhead and I want to be prepared. No, I haven’t dated more than 5 women. I’ve only dated 2 seriously, 3 if you count the girl I went to prom with in the 11th grade. I thought I was in love once. But she said that I wasn’t in love. I guess I didn’t meet her standards for the way a man acts when he’s in love. I’m not like Clara in the fact that I can’t speak Kindergarten. I’m just like her because I’m a saver. I won’t be checking computer messages ‘till mornin’. Good night, Carlie. I hope I hear from you again real soon.

  October 10 2: 27 pm

  Doug,

  Clara doesn’t speak Kindergarten all the time. I don’t want you to think ill of her. She’s nice and super responsible. She’d be real pretty if she thought she was. Someone hurt her sometime. I don’t think she has ever been on a real date. And the longer she doesn’t go on a real date the harder it will be for her to go on one. It’s not like I’m an expert or anything. I was in love my freshman year of college. He acted like he loved me too though he never said it out loud. He joined the military the beginning of my sophomore year and never wrote back. I quit college 6 months later and got the job at Dollar General.

  I was completely depressed for a year and drank myself into a stupor on many occasions. I worried my parents senseless. Can you imagine their shame at having to tell everyone that their brilliant daughter was drinking excessively and working at the Dollar General? Well, they really didn’t tell anyone. They wouldn’t have told anyone. I’ve dated a few guys at my church. Two years ago, I dated Dan for almost 4 months but it was like going out with my cousin, only worse because my cousin never tried to kiss me while breathing garlic down my neck. Dan needed a breath mint 24 hours a day. There are actually not enough breath mints created in the world in the course of a year to meet Dan’s desperate need. Does this mean I’m shallow? If so, guilty as charged. And yes, it was hard to say that I once drank myself into a stupor for a whole year. I was young. I regret that year but I can’t get it back. Truth is, I hardly remember it. Carlie

  October 10 3:41 pm

  Carlie,

  Saying that someone needs a breath mint doesn’t mean you’re shallow. I don’t think his breath was the problem. You would have forgiven that offense and supplied him with Altoids. You just didn’t like him. There’s nothing you could have done about that. Misty Carlson liked me my senior year of college. But her hair was a total wreck. She had dyed it a lot of different colors and fried it with some kind of curly perm. I wouldn’t have cared about her hair if I had liked her.

  I drank a lot my last 2 years of college. I think I was trying to prove to my family that I could. They disapproved and it was a way of saying to my parents, “I’m getting this marketing degree. I’m keeping my hair cut short. I’m not cussing in front of women. But I’m not totally compliant. I’ll drink as much as I want whenever I want.” The truth is I don’t like the taste of alcohol and I got tired of the constant hangovers. So one day I stopped drinking. I realized I was only doing it to make my parents crazy. That wasn’t a valid reason. I think that’s the day I became a grownup. (Yes, I still drink champagne at weddings and red wine when I visit my uncle).

  October 10 4:18 pm

  Tell me about the girl you once loved. What went wrong?

  October 10 6:39 pm

  Sandra was a girl I’d known my whole life. Her parents and my parents were great friends. It was one of those awakening moments just like in the movies. When I went away to college she was a freshman in high school. I hardly even noticed her. She was literally a redheaded freckle-faced kid. When I graduated college and came back to work at the bank, she was leaving for Dartmouth. She got this big academic scholarship opportunity. Everyone was talking about her and what an accomplished girl she was. Her picture was in the paper holding up a Dartmouth sweat shirt. She had become this beautiful confident young woman. I remember looking at the picture in the paper and realizing she wasn’t a kid anymore. I went by her house one night and told her parents I would take her to Steak n Shake in Jackson to celebrate her bright academic future. I didn’t care anything about her academic future. I think everyone knew that. But they all loved me.

  They’d known me my whole life so her dad let her go even though she was too young to be in a serious relationship. I knew that. But it didn’t keep me from promising things I shouldn’t have. I said things like, “I’ll wait for you.” “I want you to write to me from New Hampshire.” I had never had that feeling in my life. Not like that. I bragged about my good job at the bank not realizing how little that would mean to an intelligent 18-year-old. Can you imagine what she told her roommate at Dartmouth? “My boyfriend lives with his grandma and works at a bank in my hometown of Sharon, Tennessee.” Yeah. Nothing could have been more boring. I did write to her and call her. We saw each other on college breaks. But she was right. I didn’t love her the way a man should love a woman. I think I wanted to pursue her as a prized possession, to tame her, to bring her back home to Sharon. I was in a competition of sorts. But I was losing. I didn’t even know who I was competing against. Eventually, I realized I was competing against her future. Thankfully, her future won. She’s working on her Ph.D at a school in California now. They say she’s a brilliant research scientist engaged to a dentist in San Diego. Or that’s what my mom says. She says it almost every time we sit down to Sunday dinner.

  October 10 6:58 pm

  Gosh. It sounds like you let a good one get away. Regrets?

  October 10 7:40 pm

  No. I hate the thought of living in California. I also hate the thought of living in a woman’s shadow. And I’m not worried about what that says about me. I stopped trying to win people’s approval, remember?

  October 10 7:48 pm

  Yeah. I get that. It’s cold living in someone’s shadow. Remember that hokey line from the Bette Midler song? “It must have been cold there in my shadow.”

  October 10 7:59 pm

  Yeah. “Wind Beneath my Wings.” The melody is pretty but the words are disturbing. Do we use people to push us upward? Should we celebrate that? I hope not. What about the military man, Carlie? Where is he?”

  October 10 8:47 pm

  His mother used to always come in the store and tell me about his big accomplishments, “He graduated from this training school and he’s now part of so-and-so elite fighting force.” or “He flew out of Tel Aviv on a big mission last Saturday night.” I mean, there I was trying to find a price check on her Cool Ranch Doritos and she was telling me about his intelligence missions. It was embarrassing. It made me wonder if she thought, “Whew, I’m glad he dumped this hometown loser girl.” One day I just told her I’d prefer not to hear about it anymore seeing as how he kind of broke my heart. She doesn’t even come into the store on weekends anymore. I think I hurt her feelings. It’s been a long time now and the pain has faded for me. Truthfully, she could come in today and say, “Jim’s going to meet the President Tuesday morning and he’s engaged to a super model” and it would hardly faze me. Maybe that was my becoming-a-grownup moment. I am 32, remember?

  After another week of continual e-mail messages, it all came crashing down. I like to think of it as “Relationship D-Day.”

  October 18 5:31 pm

  Carlie, do you want to meet me? I checked my GPS and it’s almost 8 hours from my
place to yours. But we could meet in Chattanooga. My GPS says that it’s about 3 hours from Commerce.

  October 18 5:40 pm

  We’d have to plan ahead because I work most weekends. I’d have to ask off. Plus, if we put it off a few more weeks, I would fast for 2 weeks straight and then by the time we meet I’ll only be 27 lbs. over the ideal chart weight. This has promise.

  October 18 5:46 pm

  Don’t bother with the fast. You could die from that. What about a week from Saturday?

  October 18 5:51 pm

  I can swing that. Does that mean the e-mail chatting is over until the big meeting?

  October 18 6:00 pm

  No. But I type pretty slow. You don’t even want to know how long it took me to write the story about Sandra. Plus, I’m not a writer so I went over it a lot trying to make sure I didn’t make errors. Do you want to talk on the phone?

  October 18 6:04 pm

  I’m a writer. I don’t talk out loud unless you want to know if we carry Liquid Plum’R and in that case I manage to say quietly, “Aisle 9.”

  October 18 6:09 pm

  Okay. I guess I’ll keep spending time over-analyzing every paragraph I write. What else do I have to do? This is Sharon, TN. Even the 3-legged dogs are asleep by 8:00.

  October 18 6:11 pm

  I’m having compassion on you. You can call me at 706 555 0922.

  That’s when everything changed. I knew he could call me now. I knew he would call me. I was terrified to the point of wanting to eat three frozen burritos, but I knew I’d be meeting him in less than two weeks. Nix the obsessive burrito eating.

  About the time I was breaking out in a cold sweat the computer made the ever-familiar “ding.”

  October 18 6:15 pm

  Good. I can’t call tonight, Carlie. I told my mom I would come for supper. I’ll call tomorrow night around 7:00. Would that work?

  October 18 6:18 pm

  I’m working until 9:00 tomorrow night. Is 9:15 too late for a bank officer who doesn’t wear a tie to talk on the phone?

 

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