by Lisa Smartt
October 18 6:27 pm
I’ll drink Mountain Dew and try to stay awake. I’ll call tomorrow night at 9:30. That will give Clara a few minutes to tell you all about her happy chart feelings before I steal you away.
October 18 6:30 pm
LOL. I can’t believe I just typed that. I hate the over-use of LOL. I’m not 19.
October 18 6:33 pm
LOL. You’re right. You’re 32. You told me, remember? I have to go now. I’ll call tomorrow night.
CHAPTER THREE: Uh-Oh, This Relationship Is Getting Too Close To Real Life
CARLIE
October 18 10:00 pm
I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I didn’t want to talk on the phone. I liked the security of typed words. I didn’t want to meet either. I liked just looking at the nerdy picture of him with the fist under his chin. He was handsome. Green eyes. Brown curly hair. I could tell he didn’t want to pose for the picture but he did it because they told him to do it. Just like the marketing degree. If we never met, I could pretend he was suave and sophisticated. I didn’t want to take the chance that he wasn’t. I didn’t want to wear my tan pants either. They were the dressiest pants I owned but they were too snug around the rear. Why couldn’t we just keep talking on the computer? Sleep was motivated by two Tylenol PM and an 8:00 class in the morning.
October 19 6:15 am
Computer “ding.”
Carlie, Last night’s dinner was a setup orchestrated by my mom. This 22-year-old girl who works in her office at the electric company dropped by unexpectedly for dinner at the exact time I pulled in the driveway. I was totally caught off guard. At dinner, Mom just went on and on. “Doug’s a college graduate. Doug was always such a good boy. Doug has a great job at the bank. Doug doesn’t wear a tie because he doesn’t want people to think he’s better than them.” Embarrassing.
October 19 6:19 am
What about the girl? What was she like?
October 19 6:24 am
She was just a girl, I guess.
October 19 6:28 am
She must have been really good-looking. You said, “She was just a girl” and that’s code for “She was a looker.” If she hadn’t been a looker, you would have said, “She wasn’t that impressive.”
October 19 6:35 am
You really are 32. You’ve learned the man code. I’m impressed.
October 19 6:39 am
You’re in the presence of a master.
October 19 6:41 am
LOL
October 19 6:44 am
You just did that to bug me. I need to get ready for class. Talk to you tonight.
October 19 6:47 am
OK. Talk to you tonight.
I sat on the edge of the bed, put my face in a pink paisley decorative pillow and cried my eyes out. No man on earth would have understood my tears. It may have been the PMS but I think it was the sheer sadness. I wanted desperately to look like the twenty-two-year-old girl from the electric company in Tennessee. And I didn’t even care what she looked like. I had never even met Doug. Why was I so messed up? Is this why I drank a year of my life away and why I still eat excessive sugar? I’m crazy. God, please help me trust you. I believe. Help my unbelief.
I pulled into my apartment parking lot at 9:10. Twenty minutes to plan my strategy. What would my opening line be? Would I try to talk soft and mouse-like or would I try to sound articulate and intelligent? What if Doug had a duck-like voice? I knew an old man who worked at the convenience store out on Highway 7 who literally quacked. It was ridiculous. If Doug quacked it would be all over. Altoids don’t fix quacking. No, he couldn’t be a quacker. He couldn’t work at the bank if he quacked or squeaked. He must sound good or he couldn’t work out professional loans for people. I cooked up a double dose of hot chocolate, made small talk with Clara as she cut little pumpkins out of orange construction paper, and watched the clock.
October 19 9:31 pm
Phone rings. I’ll let it ring three times. Don’t want to seem over-eager, y’know?
“Dollar General. How can I help you?” Egads!! I’m the world’s biggest idiot. “Oh, I mean, hey, this is Carlie. I’m sorry. That’s ridiculous. Occupational hazard, y’know?”
“Hey, no problem, Carlie. This is Doug, I mean, obviously, right?”
“Well, not necessarily, Doug. Several old men were giving me the ‘once over’ tonight at the store and my number is in the book.”
“Ha ha. Yeah. Those old men could give me a run for my money. What they lack in looks they make up for in kindness and in their knowledge of women. I don’t know much about women.”
“I doubt that.”
“No. It’s true. I never had a sister. I haven’t dated that much. My mom drives me crazy. When people say things like, ‘You know how women are’…I always wanna say, ‘No. I really don’t. Tell me.’”
“But you were assertive with Sandra. You told her you wanted her. You pursued her.”
“Yeah, I thought she was beautiful and smart and I don’t know. It’s like she was unattainable. I was twenty-two and I decided I would attain her. But that’s not the way relationships work. I know that now. People aren’t possessions. They can’t be bought and traded.”
“Someone’s been watchin’ Dr. Phil.”
“Ha Ha. I should be watchin’ but I’m workin’. Somebody’s gotta be out makin’ those farm loans, Carlie.”
“Yeah. I can’t tell ya how many times I’ve gone to bed at night and said, ‘Lord, thank you that somewhere in Tennessee someone is making a farm loan.’ I sleep better at night knowing that’s taken care of.’”
“You should. I mean, if you eat, you should.”
“But I’m not eating anymore, remember? We’re meeting in a few weeks and I’m on a fast.”
“You can’t be serious. You haven’t done those wacky things, have you?”
“Are you kidding? I could write a book about those wacky things. Doug, didn’t you read my first e-mail? I’m not normal. I have issues. Food is just one of my issues. Don’t you have any issues?”
“Oh no you don’t. You’re not putting me in one of those Oprah moments where I’m supposed to start crying and telling you all my deep dark secrets like a teenage girl. Not tonight anyway. I’m not an open person, Carlie. I’m a guy.”
“Thanks for establishing that. I forget what guys are like. I work with women and I live with a kindergarten teacher, remember?”
“Forgiven.”
“So tell me more about the girl who came to dinner. And why on earth would your mom do that without telling you?”
“Mom called the university to make sure I had enough credit hours to graduate. Mom called my doctor last year to ask what kind of antibiotic I was on when I had the flu. She had read about some kind of antibiotic that affects fertility. She literally said, ‘Dr. Smith, I need this information. I wanna have grandkids someday.’ She asked me if I thought ‘Stephen’ was a good name for her first grandchild. She’s not big on boundaries, Carlie. I put up boundaries and she crosses those boundaries. That’s why I could never ever live with her. I haven’t lived with her since I was eighteen and went away to college. It just wouldn’t work.”
“Yeah, but she must have thought this girl was a good match for you. She wouldn’t have tried to set you up unless she believed it was a good match.”
“I’m not questioning her motives. I’m questioning her methods.”
“So was the girl a good match for you?”
“She smacked her gum and wore too much make-up. When I asked her what her interests were she said, ‘shopping.’ She laughed and said, ‘Yeah. That’s my final answer.’ She wouldn’t eat dessert because she said she doesn’t eat sugar. What kind of woman never eats sugar?”
“You’re right. The gum and shopping was one thing. But the sugar makes her suspect. There’s something I want to ask but I don’t know how to ask in a way that doesn’t make me look bad.”
“Are you kidding? You told me you might not wri
te back if I was disfigured. You said you were a drunk for a whole year. You confessed that you’re broke. Now you’re acting scared to ask me something? I doubt it. Ask away.”
“Right. But those things were just confessions about my life, things in the past. I’m talkin’ about the here and now. Okay. How tall are you, Doug?”
“Wait. You’re saying you went through that whole ordeal just to ask me how tall I am?”
“Yes. It’s kind of a big deal.”
“Really. Why is it such a big deal? Do you have some kind of ‘height standard’? I mean, when people walk into Dollar General do you look over at that massive height ruler on the door to see how tall they are and think ‘Yeah, I’d go out with him….or no, he’s too short?’ Carlie, that’s a height ruler for criminals…not for deciding whether you should date a guy. That height chart is so that when someone runs out of the store with a case of pork n beans under his arm you can say to the officer, ‘He was about 5’10 according to the big ruler on the door. And of course he was skinny….cause you know a fat guy could have never gotten away with a whole case of pork n beans.’”
“Go ahead and laugh. You’re not answering. You must be under 5’8.”
“No. I’m not under 5’8. I’m just wondering why you care so much.”
“Look Doug, there’s something I didn’t tell you. I’m not one of those cute little short pudgy women. I’m freakishly tall. There. I said it.”
“How tall is freakishly tall?”
“Why does it matter, Doug? You said it yourself. We shouldn’t use that as a standard, right?”
“Okay. This is why I don’t understand women. Right here. This right here is why I haven’t been very successful at dating. Women are masters at turning my own words against me. I’m not good at keeping up. So I’ll cut to the chase. I’m 5’11. Does that meet your height standard?”
“Not really…’cause that means you’re really 5’9. Men lie about height, Doug. I mean, even really good men lie about height. It’s like women with weight. Most men who would never lie about anything…I mean, men who would never cheat on their taxes or their wives or lie about their education or keep the extra change mistakenly given to them by a cashier…even those men add at least two inches to their height. I bet you’re 5’9. Maybe 5’9 ½ ‘cause you seem to be a straight shooter.”
“Look, I’m not 5’9. But what if I were 5’9? It’s no big deal. Some very nice men are 5’9. Being 5’9 doesn’t make someone an ax murderer, right?”
“The problem is I’m taller than 5’9. I’m 5’11.”
“So….you’re really 6’1? Carlie, you could have just told me you’re 6’1. It’s no big deal.”
“Ha Ha. A loan officer who sidelines as a comedian. I’m not 6’1. I’m 5’11. The doctor’s office measured me two years ago and I know I haven’t grown. I’m 5’11. But still, 5’11 is freakishly tall for a woman, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever spent a moment of my life trying to decide what is freakishly tall for a woman. I’ll have to think about it and get back with you.”
“Okay. Tell me this. How tall are the people in your family? I mean, stop and think about it for a minute.”
“My dad was probably 5’11 as we were about eye to eye. My mom is 5’4. My grandma was about 5’4 probably. My grandpa wasn’t as tall as me, probably 5’9. I don’t have brothers or sisters. Is that good enough?”
“See, this is what I’m talkin’ about, Doug. Your family is normal. I’m 5’11. My dad is 6’6. My brothers are 6’4 and 6’7. My mom is 5’10. We look like a pasty white tribe of giants everywhere we go. People actually stare. Trust me. Men don’t always like tall women. Remember that thing you said about not wanting to be in a woman’s shadow. That could be taken literally here.”
“Models are tall women, Carlie.”
“Right. But here’s the crucial difference. They don’t have big behinds. Not every man could be attracted to a tall woman with a big behind.”
“Okay. I don’t know for certain…but I have a feeling that if my grandma were here and she were giving me advice about this phone call …which I would most certainly take…she would say, ‘Doug, I think it’s nice that you’re going to call this young lady on the phone. Whatever you do, Doug, do not get into a conversation about the size of her behind.’ Yes. I am almost one hundred percent positive that Grandma would advise me to take this phone conversation in a different direction.”
“Yeah. Your grandma is right. It’s getting late anyway. Thanks for calling, Doug. Do you still want to meet in Chattanooga? I mean, you know now that I’m a little neurotic and that may not be what you’re looking for.”
“I don’t know what I’m looking for, Carlie. But how will meeting a friend in Chattanooga be a bad thing?”
“Yeah. You’re right. Well, guess it’s time to call it a night. G’night, Doug.”
“Good night, Carlie.”
After hanging up the phone, I grabbed the same damp paisley pillow from the morning and had the second big cry of the day. Top three crying reasons: My genetics had made me freakishly tall. My pie eating had given me a big behind. Doug said he was meeting a friend in Chattanooga.
He had made me cry twice in one day. And I couldn’t wait to talk to him again.
October 20 5:00 pm
Not one computer message from Doug today. That’s okay. I think I scared him away. I am pretty scary looking today. Unmotivated. No make-up. Hair in a pony tail. The redheaded guy in sociology made a stupid comment in class today about man’s innate need to sexually conquer as many women as he can. His blue eyes don’t look as good now and the jeans do nothin’ for him. What an idiot! What woman would run up to him after class and say, “Yes, let me be the next one conquered! I’m moved by your sense of nobility and romance.” I should have been in college in the 1950’s. Guys are wimps now. Romance is all but dead.
October 20 10:00 pm
Computer “ding”
Carlie, I’m just now gettin’ to my computer. The bank did a big foreclosure today and it was really messy and because I’m from here, I know everybody. It’s bad to foreclose on a friend. But we have a job to do. Kind of like when a small town policeman has to arrest his cousin because he has marijuana in his trunk. Conflicted. I didn’t call ‘cause you may be in bed and I don’t want to be one of those needy people who disturbs people when they’re sleeping. I’m tired and I probably won’t check the computer till mornin’. I hope you had a good day. How did you do on your political science test?
October 20 10:23 pm
Doug, I’m sorry about the foreclosure. My aunt and uncle lost their farm a few years ago. Yeah. Real sad and messy. And yeah, they hated the bank guys. Plus, the bank guys wore white shirts and ties when they came to take possession. Not a good move. But you’re right. It’s not your fault. You have to follow the law. Clara is still up. You can call if you want. I mean, I’ll be up for a while but I know you’re tired so don’t feel obligated and I understand if you don’t feel like calling. I don’t want to sound needy either. Besides, you said you weren’t going to check the computer till mornin’. I probably made a C on the political science test. I definitely could have studied more. The story of my life. I’m sorry about your day, Carlie
Phone rings.
“Hey!”
“Carlie, thanks for letting me call so late.”
“No problem, Doug. I’m sorry about your day. That sounds really hard.”
“Yeah, the day was a total loss. This family, I mean, I’ve known them my whole life. I was a teenager when they got married. I was at the wedding with my parents. My uncle even did the ceremony. Their kids were standing out front today and they would look at me and just…I don’t know…like they were sayin’ to themselves, ‘We’ll never grow up to be a bad man like that bad man.’”
“You did what you had to do, Doug. You have a job. You did your job. You should take a Tylenol and sleep well. When a judge sentences someone to thirty years in prison
, he can feel sad. That’s normal. But he still had to do what he did. They didn’t pay. You had to take it back. The fact that you felt lousy about it just means you’re a real person.”
“Thanks. My personhood was definitely in question today. I’m tired and I haven’t eaten anything all day and I’m still not hungry.”
“Okay now, Doug. This is where you and I differ. If I had had a day from Hades, I’d be hittin’ the ice cream carton right about now. But it wouldn’t solve the problem. Drink a big glass of water, eat a peanut butter sandwich, take two aspirin, and call me in the mornin’. You do have peanut butter, don’t you?”
“Yes, I have peanut butter. You’re a pretty decent on-call doctor…and with late night hours. That’s a plus. Good night, Carlie.”
“G’night, Doug.”
He needed me. He was tired and sad so he called me. I like that.
October 21 6:45 am
“Hello.”
“You told me to call.”
“Doug, it’s a figure of speech, ‘take two aspirin and call me in the morning.’ It was a joke. I haven’t even had coffee yet. But believe it or not, I’m glad to hear your voice.”
“Thanks. I just called to say that I’m not one of those needy guys who’s always feeling unsure of himself. I know who I am, Carlie. I’m a man and I’m capable of doing difficult things. It’s just that yesterday, well, it was different. I mean, it was just hard to watch another man’s dreams go up in smoke. It got to me. That’s all.”
“Hey, I totally get that. And I wasn’t feeling like you were being overly needy. Doug, let me clarify something. Overly needy men knock on a woman’s door at 1:00 am and start crying in a drunken stupor. Overly needy men ask to borrow money when they know it’s a woman’s payday. I’ve been there. I know. Feeling sad about someone in your hometown losing their family farm is not being overly needy. It’s being the Christian man you are. Now…go to work and do a good job and try not to think about yesterday. Did you sleep well?”
“I did. I ate a peanut butter sandwich, drank a big glass of water, and took two aspirin.”
“Wow. I don’t know who gave you that advice, but whoever they are….they’re brilliant.”
