by Lisa Smartt
“Everyone, this is Carlie Ann Davidson. She’s starting after Christmas.”
Some people waved or smiled. A few people were on the phone and motioned a welcome hand gesture. But within five seconds, they were all back to work. Time was money. Yeah, and money was…well, I wasn’t sure yet. Thankfully, my hotel was within walking distance of the magazine offices. I had never spent much time in a big city and was confused by the subway schedules and the never-ending noise. I felt self-conscious trying to hail a taxi so I didn’t bother. I wasn’t even sure if I had the money to be riding around in taxis. After the meeting at Today’s Woman, I walked into a little bakery and dropped $10 on one blueberry muffin and a macchiato. Unbelievable. I didn’t understand the way the bakery line worked or where to find a napkin. A wave of insecurity poured over me. Unstable hormones convinced me that everyone in the bakery was staring at the tall fat girl. That they all knew I was a small-town southern girl and that I didn’t belong here. I wore “newcomer” like a sign around my neck. I felt like Hester Prinn in “The Scarlet Letter.” I know. The Hester Prinn comparison is a bit of an overkill. Note to self: Blueberry muffins and sugary coffee don’t stabilize crazy hormones very well. The most painful part of the bakery experience was knowing that I could get a roast beef sandwich and a bag of Sun Chips for $4.99 at Sammy’s Sandwich Emporium in Sharon, Tennessee. Sometimes Sammy even threw in a free sweet tea. I think he was trying to lure us into buying a dog bed or a winter coat.
November 26 11:00 pm
Can’t sleep. Composing a letter to Doug on the computer:
Dear Doug,
I’m sorry I hung up on you. I was hurt. But that’s no excuse. I never stopped to think about what all the changes in my life meant for you. I kept thinking it would be the same, only way better because I wouldn’t be stocking shelves anymore. I realize now that the girl you were interested in did stock shelves. Maybe that was part of her appeal.
And you’re right, Doug. You haven’t moved. You’re in Sharon. You’re Loan Officer of the Year for the State of Tennessee. You’re movin’ into your mom’s house in January. You’re stable and that’s a good thing. An honorable thing. It’s not like you joined the circus and asked me to understand. But I have joined the circus, Doug. At least, it feels like that. Today’s Woman offered me the job today. They’re moving my things in early January.
I’m moving from Commerce, Georgia, to New York City. I don’t know if it was the right decision or not. But it’s already made. I have to believe God opened the door and I just walked through it. I dread breaking the news to Clara. She’s been such a good roommate. She could easily afford to stay there by herself. But she probably won’t. My new desk has a window view. But it’s all just dark gray city below. Nothing like the view from the apple tree. I understand why you can’t do this. Maybe I even respect you for it. But that doesn’t keep me from crying several times a day. I wish things could have been different. Maybe I hold out hope that someday they will be. I’m still the girl you met at Cracker Barrel in Chattanooga. Don’t forget that, Doug. Congratulations on being Loan Officer of the Year. You deserve it.
Carlie
I did what everyone knows you should never do. I pushed “send.” I didn’t re-read it. I didn’t alter it. I didn’t wait till the next day. I sent it. I said good-bye to the only man I’d ever loved and then I fell asleep in New York City.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Life Without Carlie
DOUG
November 26
The funeral was the standard Sharon funeral. The same people who were at Mom’s funeral came out to grieve Sid Miller. I went through the grieving motions as best I could. Sandra asked me to speak and I told about the time her dad taught me to fly fish. I explained that he was the best Little League coach I ever had because he showed me how to choke up on the bat more and because he never yelled at me when I got distracted in left field. I even got a little emotional when I talked about sharing a cabin with him at youth camp. How he always prayed for us by name and believed we’d do great things. Sandra said it was the best part of the funeral. I knew she was biased.
I skipped out on the church lunch explaining that I had a headache. Sandra cried a little and told me she’d miss me. I slept all afternoon on top of my brown bedspread. I didn’t even take my shoes off. Depression was setting in. Sid Miller prayed that I would do great things. But I hadn’t.
I got an e-mail from Carlie. Basically, she said good-bye. She traded me in for her dream just like Sandra did five years ago. I was such a nice starter boyfriend but when life offered excitement or challenge or opportunity, a loan officer from Sharon couldn’t compete. I understood that. But it still hurt. Did I write back? No. There was nothing left to say.
December 23
I decided to go to Dave and Shannon’s for Christmas. Aunt Clarice was coming in from California. It would be good to get away and take my mind off, well, off of everything. I hardly remembered the last month. Working and sleeping. Sleeping and eating. Driving down Dave and Shannon’s street made me sad though. Kids and dogs and family. I didn’t have any of it. That’s why I was on my way to spend Christmas with my cousin. I was Dave and Shannon’s “Christmas Project 2010” and everyone knew it.
Dave had strung lights on their mailbox and around the front deck. It was endearing in a far less-than-perfect way.
“Doug! Hey man, come on in from the cold! Shannon just made cider.”
“Thanks, Dave. And thanks for inviting me to stay with you for Christmas. Really. I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, I didn’t want you to come but Shannon pretty much insisted.”
“I had a feeling.”
“Doug, I know things have gone, well, not so great lately. Just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. I figure it’s nothin’ some late night card playin’ couldn’t cure.”
“Look, if gettin’ beat at every game known to man is considered great therapy, well then, yeah, you’re at the right place, brother!”
Shannon greeted me with a big hug. “Are you boys already trash talkin’?”
I could smell the cider and the tree looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. It wasn’t that it was perfect. No. It just looked like home.
“Shannon, the house looks beautiful. You’re an amazing woman. I really think you could have done better than Dave. Why didn’t you listen to all of us when we tried to stop you?”
“Aren’t you funny? How are you, Doug? And don’t say, ‘fine’ cause I won’t believe you.”
“I’ve been better. It’s been a month now. It doesn’t get easier. I keep thinkin’ it’ll get easier.”
“I’m sure. I’ve talked to Carlie several times. She’s in the same boat.”
“I didn’t know you guys still talked?”
“She’s my friend. I felt a bond with her from that very first night. That doesn’t change because you decided you didn’t want to date her anymore.”
“Oh, is that what she said? That I broke it off with her?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, Doug, you did. You said you didn’t want to go to New York to see her. What was she supposed to do?”
“So you think I should have gone to New York and stood in line behind all the people who wanted to spend time with her? I mean, that’s how you define a great relationship?”
“A great relationship is being with someone you love, Doug. It’s not about location or standing in line. The minute she got opportunities in New York, you were done with her. And no, I don’t think that makes sense. I wanna think Dave would have run after me. I wanna think he wouldn’t have let me slip through his fingers so easily…just because it got difficult.”
“Moving to New York is what doesn’t make sense. She never even considered me, never thought about future plans, or what it would take to have a relationship with me. Did she think I would just quit my job and follow her up there? That I would be her wing man for this new exciting life? She knows me better than that, Shannon.”<
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“Doug, she’s thirty-two years old. She graduated from college. She can’t just sit in an apartment in Georgia waiting for you. She had to make a plan. She had to start making a living. This opportunity came up and well, anyone would have taken it. They made her a decent offer. And it was the only offer on the table, Doug.”
Shannon was right and I hated that. I never made an offer to Carlie. I didn’t tell her that I wanted to rent a moving truck and move her things into Mom and Dad’s old house. How I’d already thought about using my rainy day fund for a honeymoon in Ireland. I didn’t tell her that I bought one of those coffee machines that makes the coffee she likes. I never told her I planned to turn my old bedroom into a writing space for her, that I’d already thought about painting the walls that odd color of green she likes, that I could build a computer desk by the window so she’d have a view of the apple tree and the back property. I never told Carlie how desperately I wanted to wake up next to her every morning, how I’d dreamed of her being the first…and the last. Sadly, Shannon was right. New York City was the only offer on the table. And Carlie so quickly said, ‘Yes.’”
“Shannon, you may be right. Let’s change the subject, shall we?”
“We shall.”
Spending the next few days with Dave and Shannon was equal parts wonderful and terrible. Watching them hold hands while playing cards or sharing a kiss after breakfast gave me hope that someday this could be my life. But watching them also made me grieve what was lost. I didn’t try to drown my sorrow in Jack Daniels this time. Dave helped me find a better path. Late night Texas Hold ‘Em and five-hour games of Risk. Dave and Shannon prayed with me every morning over coffee. They were like a breath of fresh air. Why couldn’t I convince them to move to Sharon?
December 27
It was as good a Christmas as I could have expected. Aunt Clarice’s last-minute decision to stay in California to tend to her ailing poodle was a gift of sorts. I was scheduled to go back to work on the twenty-eighth and I knew I had to leave. Plus, my lease was up on January 15 and I needed to have all my stuff moved to the farm before then. As I was pouring my last cup of coffee, I heard a loud knock on the door. Dave greeted someone and then closed the door promptly. “Shannon, come look! Flowers!”
He opened a large card that came with the flowers. “They’re from Carlie.”
I walked from the kitchen and leaned against the door facing. I didn’t wanna act too interested. But who was I kidding? Dave and Shannon both knew the truth.
Shannon glowed as she admired the huge bouquet of white lilies and red roses. “Read the card, Dave.”
“Dave and Shannon, I’m sorry these are late. I hope you had a Merry Christmas! Thank you for being so kind, for taking me into your home and into your lives. I hope we will always stay in touch. Make note of my new address below and come see me anytime. Please bring your blueberry muffins. There’s a bakery near my new apartment but they charge $6.75 per muffin. Of course, that goes against my rural sensibilities. Shannon, I owe you a lot for your counseling services. Maybe someday I will be able to pay up. I thank God that He brought you both into my life. Happy New Year, Carlie”
Dave was uncomfortable and never made eye contact with me. He cleared his throat a few times. “Well, they really are beautiful! And yeah, she’s right. You do make killer blueberry muffins, Shannon.”
Shannon touched a white lily and said, “How thoughtful!”
I walked back into the kitchen and drank my coffee black, never saying a word to Dave and Shannon about the flowers. I smiled about Carlie’s comments about the bakery muffins. Yeah. That wasn’t her style. She would make them in her own kitchen or eat a Pop-Tart. I started to ask Dave for her address. But my pride held me back. Shannon placed the flowers on the kitchen table and never spoke of Carlie again. I drove to Sharon and couldn’t stop thinking of her.
December 27 5:00 pm
Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Bart had invited the whole family to their house for an after-Christmas get-together. I got into town in time to take a long nap before going by Jim’s Grocery to buy a coconut cake. No one expected me to make homemade coleslaw or creamy potato casserole. They knew I’d just go buy a cake or a pie. When I arrived, cars were already parked in the small yard. Somehow that felt comforting.
Michelle was on the front porch smoking a Marlboro like it was her last. “Doug, guess what Uncle Bart made me do. Go ahead, guess.”
“I have no idea.”
“He made me move my van because he said I was obstructing the view of the John boat from the street. Can you believe that?” She laughed quietly and I could tell she wasn’t really mad.
“Well, hey Michelle, there’s probably an after-Christmas run on rusted-out John boats…and you shouldn’t let your Dodge Caravan stand in the way of Uncle Bart’s surprise anniversary cruise for Aunt Charlotte.” We both laughed out loud. We knew Uncle Bart wouldn’t even take Aunt Charlotte out to eat in Jackson. He said the same thing every time someone suggested it, “If I wanted to see all my money go up in smoke, I’d a jest thrown it in the fire.”
“How are you doin’, Doug? You makin’ it okay?”
“I’m good. Dave and Shannon send their love. It was nice stayin’ with them a few days. Good to get away, y’know?”
“Yeah. Look, I’m not one to get in anyone’s business. Shoot, I can’t even take care of my own business, Doug. Molly’s pregnant again and we still have two from the last litter. Buster’s hours are bein’ cut back at the plant. Jimmy’s decided he’s gonna win some kind of rubber band shootin’ competition and we all have red marks on our arms. But for the record, I mean, in case you were wonderin’…I liked her, Doug. Carlie. She was different. I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to tell you that.”
“Thanks, Michelle. Yeah, she was different all right. Let me know if you want me to try to find homes for the puppies. You never know when the general public might take a renewed interest in buying old rusty John boats and Labradoodles.”
Michelle smiled as she threw the cigarette butt into a small metal can on the porch railing. “We can always hope, Doug. We can always hope.”
The dinner was nothing like a Norman Rockwell painting, unless Norman Rockwell painted an old man feeding a raccoon from the table. Little Jimmy shot Aunt Charlotte in the behind with a rubber band while she was getting cornbread out of the oven. While doubling over with laughter, she chased him down the hallway armed with a dirty yellow fly swatter and a massive slur of verbal threats. That was the entertainment for the evening. Buster and Michelle sprung for a spiral ham which was delicious. Chester and Ida brought hash brown casserole. Aunt Charlotte made cornbread muffins and opened several jars of Mom’s green beans. Brother Dan brought a raisin pie and a Jell-o salad. I never understood why they called it a Jell-o salad. I don’t think adding fruit cocktail to strawberry Jell-o makes it a salad. Aunt Clarice called from California and spoke to everyone individually, even telling Brother Dan he needed to wear a clerical collar the next time he spoke at a funeral. Yeah, Mom would have had plenty to talk about on the way home from this event. But I didn’t feel an ounce of criticism. I was glad they all loved me.
December 27 9:00 pm
I dreaded making the call all day. What was I supposed to say? How could I help her understand my unusual situation? I felt like a sixteen-year-old boy asking Marsha Groeden to the prom, knowing full well she’d probably get drunk in the parking lot and leave me looking like an idiot.
“Hello.”
“Sandra?”
“Hey Doug! Good to hear from ya!”
“Yeah. Well, I hadn’t even congratulated you on the new job yet. Brother Dan said you’re really excited about it. I’m happy for ya. You’ll make a great teacher. When do you start?”
“My first day with the students is January 3. Yeah, I’m real excited.”
“Sandra, I need a favor and I was wonderin’ if you could help me out a little.”
“Are you kidding? Of course, I’d love
to help you with anything.”
“I got this award thing…it’s kind of…”
“Yeah! I read about it in the Messenger. Congratulations, Loan Officer of the Year! I would have sent a gift but I wasn’t sure what one sends to a prominent local banker. Cigars? Wine?”
“Food. Food’s always good.”
She laughed with enthusiasm. “I’ll have to remember that.”
“Okay. Well, there’s this big awards ceremony in Nashville on the thirtieth. Some of the folks from this branch will be goin’ and lots of people from around the state will be there. It’s at the Opryland Hotel and well, I was wonderin’…I mean, they gave me two free tickets to the dinner. And the food is supposed to be pretty good. They announce the awards after dinner. Probably be the most boring evening of your life, but at least it would get you out of Sharon. You interested? I mean, strictly as a friend, y’know?”
“Absolutely! I’m always up for boring awards ceremonies, Doug!”
“Okay then. I’ll pick you up at 3:30 on Saturday. Will that work?”
“I’ll be ready. I take it this is a formal deal?”
“Not formal like a tux or evening gown thing. I’m wearing a dark gray suit. I don’t know what a woman would wear. Probably just any kind of dress.”
“I’ll figure something out, how ‘bout that?”
“Yeah, don’t go to any trouble though. It’s no big deal.”
“Of course it’s a big deal, Doug. It’s a really big deal. You should be really proud of yourself.”
“I’m just supposed to go and I’m going.”
“Well, I’m lookin’ forward to a night out on the town…even if it does mean listening to bankers introduce each other.”
“Thanks, Sandra. I’ll see you Saturday and thanks for doin’ this especially so last minute.”
“No problem. See you Saturday.”
“Bye.”
I called a friend and asked her to go with me to an awards banquet. But that one phone call complicated my life far more than I could have ever imagined.
