by Lisa Smartt
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Big Girl In The Big Apple
CARLIE
December 26 8:30 pm
On a plane to New York City
That was the worst Christmas of my life. Some mothers would have spent the whole time being happy for their little girl. They would have said things like, “We can’t believe our little girl got a job with a national magazine! We’re so proud!” or “Everyone’s just so happy for you, Carlie. You graduated from college. You’re moving to the big city, following your dream!” But Mom was never one to waste time on happiness. “Do you think they’re wearing that style of jacket in New York, Carlie? I seriously doubt it.” “Whatever you do, don’t wear those hideous brown shoes when you’re in New York.” “Have a professional do your hair color, Carlie. Do you really think the people at Today’s Woman buy their Ash Blonde at Walgreen’s for $4.78?”
I don’t know, Mom. I don’t know where they buy their hair color. I don’t care. I was seated in 17B and almost laughed out loud because I was proudly wearing the hideous brown shoes. Rebel child that I am. I know it must have killed Mom not to get on the plane with me so she could remind me to wear eye shadow, and not to wear the outdated navy jacket, and that Doug probably broke up with me because I tend to be a carb eater. Shoot, she’d be running the whole city within two weeks.
The next two days would be spent doing radio interviews. Joan prepped me very little. “You’ve got presence, Carlie. Use it. Be real. Be funny. Talk about the book the way you’d talk to a friend. You can do it. Say the title at least three times. Relax and enjoy the ride.” I did like talking with people on the radio. And the radio personalities seemed to enjoy me and my southern accent. I was appropriately self-deprecating and the callers informed me that it was charming. The bottom line? I had nothing to lose. If the book flopped, it would be because Harper Collins chose a stupid book written by an unknown southern woman with a big behind who stocked shelves for a living. I couldn’t take responsibility for that. And I wouldn’t.
December 27 9:00 pm
I saw my new apartment today. It was the size of my parents’ walk-in closet and the floor was covered with green tile from a public school bathroom. For what I’m paying in rent, I could have bought a lovely home in a nice neighborhood in Commerce. But I don’t live in Commerce anymore. I live and work in New York City where ice cream is twice as expensive and I get lost on the subway and Mrs. Thomas thinks all single people live together before getting married. The worst part? The old blue couch my grandma gave me is never gonna fit in that efficiency apartment. But I’ll survive. I am woman, hear me roar…and all that worthless jazz.
Joan said the radio interviews went well and that book sales have been brisk. I don’t know what that means. I’m working on a funny story called, “Messies vs. Cleanies” for Today’s Woman. I already have five paragraphs written. Life is good. But it’s far from perfect.
December 28 7:00 am
On the wrong subway again. Thankfully, I wore the hideous brown shoes as they are by far my most comfortable shoes for running through New York City trying to find my office.
December 28 7:53 am
At home at my desk now. Another gray day in the Big Apple. E-mail from Joan said we move to television after the first of the year. I’m supposed to be ridiculously happy. But all I can think about is how enormous I’m gonna look on a television screen. If I wear black, I’ll look thinner. But black tends to wash me out. If I wear bright colors, my face will look better but my body will look like a big fat round carnation, all fluffy and ridiculous. This is a lose/lose proposition. Yeah. I should have thought about the word “lose” a few months ago and maybe I wouldn’t have eaten so many blueberry muffins and drunk so many sugary coffee drinks. I need to get online and see what Oprah’s wearing these days. She and I are about the same size. But my pasty white skin will make me look so much bigger than Oprah. Plus, she may be wearing an outfit that costs $2000. I only have $698.76 in my account right now and I need to go to the grocery store and re-fill my subway card. Mom told the Commerce Garden Club I’d be meeting a lot of famous people in New York City. But I missed people like Mr. Porter and the Rockfords. I even missed my brother borrowing my bread machine. I should just give him that bread machine. I don’t need the carbs. And I’d have to store it at the foot of my bed anyway.
December 31 11:00 pm
New Year’s Eve
A pint of Ben and Jerry’s. A promise that my things will be moved into my tiny apartment on January 2. Working on a new story about women who are sworn to singleness. Women who really want to be single. Funny interviews. Some great quotes. Realistic? Not on your life. Bed by 11:22. Happy Almost New Year.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Lookin’ For A Country Girl…And A Country Ham
DOUG
December 30
I bet Mrs. Miller is gonna be all happy that Sandra and I are going to Nashville. She’ll probably compliment my suit and say we make a lovely couple. I dread that whole process. Yeah, the porch light is already on and it’s just 3:27 in the afternoon.
“Doug, come in Dear.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Miller.”
“Don’t you look handsome? You sure do. Sandra has just been beside herself about what to wear. She shopped in Jackson, even went to Memphis yesterday. You won’t be disappointed, Doug. She’s a real beauty.”
“Yes ma’am, she is.”
About that time Sandra walked into the living room wearing a black dress with sparkly things all over it. Her hair was pulled back loosely. She was beautiful. Sexy even.
“Sandra, you look beautiful.”
“Thanks, Doug. You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Now stand by the fireplace so I can get your picture. You two make a lovely couple.”
See, I knew that’s exactly what she’d say.
“Mom, please, we’re not seventeen.”
“I know. But a mom can take pictures if she wants, can’t she?”
“That’s fine, Mrs. Miller.” Why was I always so easy-going about stuff like this? I didn’t want to have my picture taken. But I did. Path of least resistance, I guess. And where had that path taken me? Yeah. Nowhere.
The awards banquet was exactly like I thought it would be. Dressed-up people introducing people who introduced people who thanked people who introduced other people. When it was over, I whispered an apology to Sandra. She smiled and whispered back, “This is the most fun I’ve had in six months.”
The Opryland Hotel was beautiful with all the lights and Christmas decorations still up. But I wasn’t happy. And thousands of lights never bring a man happiness. After the banquet, Sandra asked if we could walk around a while and I agreed. It was the least I could do after putting her through such boring dribble. A few people approached us and congratulated me on the award. Susan Mathis, our branch manager, patted my arm and said with a smile, “I had a feeling you two would eventually get back together.”
Before I had a chance to say that we weren’t together, that I was planning to paint my old bedroom green, that my real love interest was a famous writer in New York City…Sandra had already smiled and said, “Thank you, Susan.”
I was silent as we approached the elevators to go to another level.
“What’s wrong, Doug?”
“This was a mistake. I’m sorry, Sandra. I should have never asked you to come. It wasn’t fair to you. I thought we could come as friends but that was stupid. You don’t need a friend. You have friends. And, well, I don’t need someone other than a friend right now.”
“You don’t? I thought everyone needed someone, Doug. I thought everyone needed someone special they could confide in. Someone to encourage them, look out for them, take care of them.”
“Yeah. But that’s the problem. I’ve already found that person, Sandra.”
“Then why isn’t she in an elevator with you at the Opryland Hotel?”
“Fair question. And I don’t really have the answer. To quote Facebook, ‘It’s complicated.�
�� She’s busy in New York City. But that’s not even the complete answer.”
“Marcie Jenkins told me you and Carlie were a thing of the past. But she got it wrong. You’re still hung up on her. And these expensive shoes are killing me. Let’s call it a night, Doug.”
“I really am sorry. I hope you know that…that I never intended to use this evening to hurt you.”
“Yeah. I get that. You needed someone to come with you. I was a convenient person to ask. Too bad you never had a sister, huh, Doug?”
We were in the parking lot within ten minutes. Awkward silence was an understatement. Less than ten words were spoken during the first hour of travel down Interstate 40. Sandra even nodded off a few times. We agreed to make a bathroom stop when we saw the big Shell sign. I checked my rearview mirror and moved toward the right lane.
“DOUG! STOP! He’s coming!” But it was too late. The noise was deafening. Glass everywhere. I couldn’t tell if we were on the road or in a ditch. My left arm was bleeding and my vision was blurry.
“Sandra? Sandra!”
“I’m here, Doug. My leg! What happened to my leg?!” Her head was bleeding profusely and she started screaming in pain.
God, what have I done? The truck was completely dented in near her right leg. I managed to open the door but I fell to the ground. Dizzy.
“Help! Someone help us!”
And that’s the last thing I remember. Lying on the grass watching the underside of the truck drip oil and seeing smoke come from the engine.
I woke up a few hours later in a hospital in Dickson.
“Mr. Jameson. Mr. Jameson, do you know where you are?”
It felt like a really bad hangover. The worst hangover of my life. “No. Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital here in Dickson. You were in a very serious car accident, Mr. Jameson. Do you remember the accident?”
“Uh, yeah, a little.”
“We wanted to check for internal injuries. You broke your left arm and you’re a little banged up. You had a slight concussion. We’ll have to watch you overnight. But you should be fine. You’re a lucky man, Mr. Jameson. And your wife will be fine too. Don’t worry. But she’ll have to go through some serious rehab.”
My mind was still foggy. “My wife? I’m not married.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. The woman who was with you…she’s on another floor. Her leg was injured pretty badly and she has some facial lacerations, but she’ll make it. And you’ll be doing so well that you’ll be able to help her in no time. Don’t worry. Really, she’ll be fine.”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d injured Sandra Miller in more ways than one. I’d tossed her aside because I wanted Carlie. Then I nearly killed her on I-40. Now I’d be left to help her recover. That was the least I could do, right?
They released me from the hospital early the next morning and I took the elevator to Sandra’s room. I wore my gray suit pants even though the knees were torn. The nurses found a t-shirt for me to wear. I didn’t plan what I was going to say to Sandra. It hurt to see Mrs. Miller and Brother Dan in the hallway outside her room. I’d really done it this time.
“Mrs. Miller, I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough.”
“I know, Dear.” Mrs. Miller looked ten years older than when I had come to pick up Sandra the day before. Her husband died less than a month ago and now I had put her daughter in the hospital. How much more could she take?
I reached out to hug her. “I don’t even remember the whole thing. They told me she’s gonna be okay, but they’re just now releasing me. I haven’t been able to come up here and see her. Can I see her? I mean, is she taking visitors?”
“Yes, but don’t stay long, Honey. The doctor wants her to get plenty of rest. Her surgery is this afternoon.”
I would have paid all the money I had to not have to walk into that hospital room. But I wasn’t a child and I couldn’t run from what I’d done. I thought about what my grandpa always said, “Own up to your mistakes. No matter how bad.”
Her eyes were closed and her face was badly cut and swollen.
“Sandra? Sandra?”
“Oh Doug, I was hoping you’d come.”
“Of course. Sandra, of course I’d come. I’d never leave you here. I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. I don’t even remember what happened. I know you saw something. They tell me it was a big truck. But it was my fault. I know it was my fault. And I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it, Doug. I’m gonna be fine.”
“What are they gonna do to you?”
“They have to put a rod in my leg and do some repairs on my knee. I’ll be in a wheelchair a while, a walker after that, but I’ll walk again. I’m sure of that.”
“I’ll help you, Sandra. Anything you need, I’ll be there. Just name it.” I reached out to hold her hand.
She managed a small grin. “I know. That’s why it hurts so badly.”
“Your leg?”
“No. That you don’t want me. Because you really are a stand-up guy…the kind of guy who’ll bring me dinner, who’ll bring me books from the library, re-arrange my pillows. You’ll probably drive my mom home and get me situated and bring us groceries on your way home from work. That’s the kinda guy I always wanted, Doug. The sad thing? I had him once. But I was determined to break free of a small town. And by the time I knew better, it was too late.”
“If I were such a great guy, you wouldn’t be in this hospital bed right now.”
“It was an accident. People have accidents all the time. No one thinks less of you. You don’t owe me anything. Don’t take care of me out of guilt.”
“What about your insurance coverage?”
“Yeah. Now there’s a story for the front page of the paper, Doug. A broke unemployed doctor of bio-ethics…who didn’t see the need to get insurance ‘cause I was gonna be gettin’ a job any day now. Yeah. Brilliant.”
“Sandra, tell me you have something, some kind of health insurance.”
“Bupkus. And that would be the second stupid thing I did…or didn’t do.”
“We’ll work it out with the hospital. I’ll do what I can. I know my truck insurance covers injuries to some extent. I’ll have to see what’s available. I have a small savings account and if needed…”
“Doug, you don’t need to spend your money. I should have known better than to be uninsured. I did know better.”
A friendly older nurse came in and said calmly, “I’m sorry, Sir, but you need to leave. Ms. Miller, they’ve moved your surgery time up to 11:00. We’ll be doing your prep now.”
“Thanks. Doug, pray for me before you leave, would you?”
The nurse smiled and said sweetly, “That’ll be just fine, Honey.” Mrs. Miller and Brother Dan walked in quietly. I carefully held Sandra’s bruised hand and said, “Lord, we pray for Sandra right now. She’s hurting and we hurt for her. We pray you would use the doctor’s hands to repair her leg and knee. Thank you for our safety. Thank you for Sandra’s forgiving attitude and sweet spirit. We pray you would walk with her through the difficulties of this process. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
Mrs. Miller sobbed quietly and hugged me like I had done her a favor. Didn’t she understand that I was the reason she was in this hospital room looking at her broken daughter? Forgiveness must run in the family.
CHAPTER NINETEEN: Starting Over…Again
CARLIE
January 1 10:30 am
Phone rings.
“Hello.”
“Carlie? This is Shannon.”
“Shannon! Great to hear from you. Happy New Year!”
“Happy New Year to you too.”
“Tell me you and Dave are down in Times Square and you want me to meet you there.”
“Hey, I wish. Did you celebrate with the masses down there last night?”
“I celebrated by eating ice cream alone and going to bed at eleven-something. Yeah, I’m a real party animal.”
“Dave and I wanted to thank you for
the flowers. They’re still beautiful. We were so surprised.”
“You’re welcome. Did you go anywhere for Christmas?”
“We stayed here. My mom was supposed to come but she had a last-minute veterinary emergency. Doug came for a few days.”
“Really. How’s Doug? I mean, I guess he’s the same, huh? ‘Cept now he has that award. I hope they gave him a country ham ‘cause he was laughin’ and jokin’ about how he really wanted a country ham instead of a plaque. And how that’s the least that they could do for Loan Officer of the Year.”
“Yeah. Carlie, I called to tell you something. I don’t know why. I just thought you should know. It’s Doug. He’s been in a serious car accident. Coming back from the awards ceremony in Nashville, he was hit by a big truck on Interstate 40. His truck is totaled.”
“Oh no! Is he alright? Is he hurt?”
“He broke his left arm. A few bruises, but he’s fine. It really is amazing. Sandra wasn’t quite so fortunate. She had surgery on her leg and knee yesterday. She’ll be laid up for a while.”
“Sandra was with him?”
“I’m sorry, Carlie. He just needed someone to go with him to the banquet. He says it was a horrible mistake. In fact, he and Sandra had just had a heart-to-heart talk before they got in the truck. He told her he shouldn’t have asked her to the banquet because she could never be more than a friend. There was absolutely nothing between them. Really.”
“I’m sorry about the wreck. As far as Doug and Sandra, it’s really none of my business. But I am sorry she’s hurt so badly. That won’t be an easy recovery. Thankfully, well, I guess Doug will be there to help her…help her get better.”
“I just thought you might like to contact him or something, Carlie.”
“I still love him, Shannon. I dream about him at night…and daydream about him every day. But, no. I can’t contact him. I can’t feel like I chased him and wore him down. He needs time to decide what he wants. Who he wants.”
“You’re probably right. I have a tendency to wanna jump in and fix things. I need to let it go. Carlie, anytime you need a break, please come see us in Chattanooga. I’ll make blueberry muffins on the spur of the moment. I promise.”
