by Suzie Carr
Just then, the waiter barged in. “Can I start you off with a drink from our bar?”
I wanted to snap at the happy-faced waiter and tell him to go away.
“I’d like a scotch, straight up please, a double if you can?” Colin asked.
The waiter stared at me with his perfect white-teethed smile. “And you ma’am?”
“Just a water, please.”
I watched the penguin-suited man trail off to the bar.
Another five minutes of silence drifted by.
I seriously couldn’t take anymore.
“Colin,” I said, reaching for his hand. “Can we start this evening over?”
He hesitated, then finally, “Can I explain something to you?” he asked.
“Of course.” I sat up taller.
He took back his hands and folded them in front of him. He looked like he was about to make a business deal with me. “There are going to be times when I’m stressed to the max at work and I’m not going to want to let you see me like that. I’ll be the first to admit, I get ugly. I snap. It has nothing to do with me not wanting to be around you.”
I swallowed the last bit of pride I owned in that moment.
“Yesterday I found out about that case I had you research for me today, the Peterman one. I spent the day locked in my office, poking through files trying to figure it out before bothering you with it.”
Now I felt like a jerk. “You could have told me that was going on.”
“Turns out there was nothing you could do about it anyway. I made a mistake. I found a math error on the reports you printed for me.”
“A math error?”
“It was my fault. But, I’m going to take care of it.”
I reached out for his hand. “Tell my dad. He’ll know what to do.”
“The last thing I want is trouble with your dad. I’ll work it out. I promise.” He stroked the side of my face. “I don’t want to fight with you, either.”
I nodded. “Good. Then, let’s start over.”
His face softened, “I love you, even though you can be a pain in the ass.”
“You’re an even bigger one,” I joked back. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I loved him at that moment.
“Maybe this weekend, we can go back to McGinnis’s. We haven’t been there in so long.”
McGinnis’s was where I planned on taking Haley. I pictured sipping Apple Martinis with her at one of their cozy tables. To this, my natural smile returned.
I glanced around for the waiter to see where my big, tall glass of water was.
****
I couldn’t fall asleep that night. I laid in my bed staring at the lava lamp Colin had brought me when I had my appendix removed. He thought the lava rolling around in the pointy cylinder would help me relax. It didn’t work back then and it certainly wasn’t working now, either.
I counted my blinks.
The clock ticked.
I touched my arm in the same spot Haley had placed her fingers at the café. Her slender fingers were laced with the smoothness of silk. What would it be like to have those petal soft fingers touch the rest of me?
I struggled to breathe after that thought. I rolled on my side and stared at the blaring red numbers on my alarm clock. When one-thirty turned to one-thirty-one, I rose. Screw quality sleep. It just wasn’t going to happen.
I headed to the twenty-four hour gym.
I could run for hours. With my homemade mix of cardio CD favorites playing on my portable player, I turned the treadmill up to level six and ran. I concentrated on matching my running pattern to the beat of the music, blocking thoughts of Haley as they snuck through. The more I nurtured these erotic thoughts, the less likely I was to ever build a fulfilling life with Colin.
After an hour of running, I ventured over to a bench and lifted free weights. With each exhale, I imagined squashing Haley’s bouncy hair, bright eyes, slender neckline, and vivacious personality from my mind.
I had to banish all thoughts of her.
August twenty-fourth of that year my identity would change to Mrs. Colin Briggs. I should’ve been flying high with wedding bliss, fantasizing about my descent down the aisle, about our first dance as husband and wife, our honeymoon, and the years of marriage we’d happily live together, not about Haley’s next email to me.
God, I couldn’t wait to see her. What would I wear? How should I style my hair? What shade nail polish should I choose?
I should cancel. I should concentrate more on my real life, not get side-tracked by this fantastical one.
I wanted to be side-tracked by her, though.
Ever since we started talking, I vibrated at an energy level different than ever before. The air was lighter, the days brighter, the nights not as lonely with the company of my secret fantasies.
I owed it to myself to go to dinner and enjoy my new friend.
****
The next morning, I dragged.
Hill Financial had monthly “cattle-call” meetings where my dad and his executive cronies rounded the gang together for motivational priming. “I think it’s important to make sure everyone knows their opinions matter,” my dad would tell me when I moaned about having to attend. Complaining never worked. He always countered my resisting by asking, “How’s it going to look if the boss’s daughter doesn’t show? The one person everyone expects to see?”
With little sleep, I struggled to stay alert during my dad’s speech.
“This month I’d like to see every team’s captain attend the budget meeting scheduled for the third Monday.”
I blocked him out. How could all those people get excited at listening to such boring news? I wished I had brought a notebook so I could at least doodle. The longer I sat there, the stiller and more stagnant the air became. When I breathed in, the overpowering combination of perfumes and colognes, not to mention the serious coffee breath on the man sitting next to me, stung my nose.
Within an hour, my throat burned and the room spun. My eye still hurt from my mascara fiasco that morning when I stabbed it with the applicator tip. All my hard work with my eye shadow and eyeliner went to waste as it dripped down my cheek. I had considered peeling my heels off my feet and climbing back into bed at that point, but my dad’s voice echoed in my mind, you really need to attend.
Colin sat up front in between my dad and Leo, the Vice President of Sales and Marketing. He watched my dad, his boss, with a keen interest as he spoke about the company’s plan to acquire a new client that would raise the funds necessary to give every employee the bonus he or she deserved at the end of that year. As the room broke out in applause, nausea crawled up my throat.
I jumped from my seat and ran out of the room.
I sprinted down the hall towards the bathroom. By the time I pushed open the bathroom door, my stomach convulsed. Meeting or not, I left for the day.
When I arrived home, I tossed my sweater and dress pants in a heap on the floor and climbed into my nice warm bed.
I never took a sick day. That day I needed one.
A few hours later, my phone rang. I shot up. The room spun like a violent amusement ride.
I moaned when I answered.
“Are you okay?” Colin asked.
“A little dizzy,” I managed to mumble.
“I saw you run out of the room. I wasn’t sure where you went, but I figured you went to the fiche room. I know how much you love these meetings.”
“I’m not feeling well.”
“Well, I figured that out when you hadn’t showed up for our three o’clock meeting we had you scheduled to attend.”
I squinted at the bright numbers on my bedside alarm clock. “It’s four-fifteen?”
“My parents are coming over in about two hours.”
My head pulsed. “What are you talking about, Colin?”
“Tonight my parents are coming to my apartment for your famous lasagna.”
“When did this all materialize?”
“We made these plans
last week with them.”
I’d never forget volunteering to cook lasagna for his parents. The dread from something that unbearable would’ve prevented me from ever forgetting such a commitment.
“I’m in no shape to drive, let alone cook a full-course meal. And there’s no way I can entertain them.” Just to talk hurt my head.
“You don’t have to entertain them. They’re my parents.”
He had no idea what being in the same room as his parents did to me. I would rather sit in a classroom with twenty-five children scratching their nails up and down the chalkboard than sit for ten minutes with his judgmental parents. Besides his mom’s revolting funeral home, flowery smell would only make me more nauseous.
I squeezed my eyes shut trying to shade the bright, setting sun peeking through my lacy curtains. “I can’t. I’m not feeling well.”
“Please, sweetheart. Don’t make me do this alone.”
“Tell your parents I said hello. Take them out to a nice restaurant and enjoy some quality alone time with them. And if you’d like to stop by later to see if your fiancé is feeling okay, you’re more than welcomed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to lay my head flat down before I get sick.”
And with that, I hung up the phone and ran to the bathroom just in time.
By morning, the nausea subsided. Still, I refused to go to work. And because Colin hadn’t bothered to call me back the night before, I refused to call him. Even when he spoke through my crackling answering machine that morning, leaving his second message, I still didn’t answer. I wanted to make him feel as bad as possible for abandoning me when I needed him. If it had been him sick, I would have dropped my plans and catered to him the entire night. That wasn’t his style.
When I called Goldie that morning I asked her, “Why does he not get that if he were just a little more sympathetic, I wouldn’t turn into such a monster?”
“He’s a guy with an analytical mind. He’s not going to be that sensitive guy you want him to be. You tell him you have a stomachache, he tells you to take some antacid and deal with it. That’s how he shows you he cares.”
I balanced my phone between my ear and my satin nightgown, trying my best to keep it from slipping as I stirred sugar into my cinnamon apple tea. “He didn’t call me last night to check on me.”
“You’re sinking into self-pity mode. The guy is going crazy planning your wedding. Something you really should be taking an interest in doing. Did you know he’s planning this big surprise for you at the wedding? He actually called me, which of course surprised the heck out of me, because when was the last time I spoke with him?”
I took a sip of the tea and burned the tip of my tongue. “He called you?”
“He needed some information. And if you think I’m about to tell you what information it is, you’re even crazier than I suspected.”
“Come on, humor me and tell me what he wanted.”
“He wants you to be happy. Just give him a chance. He’s a guy. He’s learning.”
“Since when are you on his side?”
“Since my best friend decided to marry him.”
I had been harsh with him the night before. He did try calling me twice that morning. Goldie was right; he’s a guy. Guys fixed things, they didn’t swoon over them. He may have thought he’d just aggravate me and make me worse off maybe, which certainly would have been the case.
“He did try calling me twice this morning.”
“He did call?”
“Yes, he did call,” I said, mimicking her high-pitch.
“I’m glad we’re not in a relationship together.”
“Gee, thanks. I’m sure you wouldn’t be too peachy to be in one with either with all that negative criticism you like to dish out.”
“At least I’m always honest. Which, if I can be frank with one last comment, you need to stop expecting more than he’ll ever give you and just be satisfied.”
I did have it good with him for the most part. “I suppose.”
“Trust me, it’ll get easier if you just learn to appreciate what you have with him.”
Goldie always justified my actions and set me straight, which was what prompted me to ask her, “Do you think it’s cheating if I go to dinner with a gay woman?”
“Who do you know that’s gay?”
“A lady who rear-ended me on Main Street the day I met with the wedding singer.”
“Does she know you’re straight?”
“The topic didn’t exactly come up for me to announce it to her.”
“But the opportunity for her to tell you she’s gay did?”
“She said it in passing.”
“Unless you’ve suddenly become turned on by women, I can’t see how it would be cheating.”
I imagined what Goldie would say to me if I informed her I did find Haley attractive. Don’t be foolish. A person doesn’t wake up one day and decide she’s gay. Can you really imagine sleeping with a woman?
“Are you turned on by them?” she asked.
“Of course not.” Thanks to my quick lie, the perfect opportunity to tell her flew away from me like a loose paper in the wind.
“Just make sure she knows you’re not. Maybe you should dress like a bum, not wash your hair, and not wear makeup that night. You don’t want to give her the wrong impression, now do you?”
Wrong impression? Why was it so wrong? “Goldie knows best, doesn’t she?”
“I’m psychic. Of course I do.”
Now was not the right time to challenge my all-knowing best friend. “Sure you do.”
“You don’t think so, but I do. I know you better than you think.”
Chapter 5
My dad stepped into the fiche room at eight-thirty sharp on my first day back to work after being sick. “Are you busy?”
Another visit meant only one thing—he would harass me again about the office upstairs. “Not yet. I haven’t even had a chance to turn on my computer.”
He walked past me, hands behind his back, towards the window, leaving a trail of refreshing, woodsy fragrance behind. “Good, because there’s something I need to discuss with you.”
I braced myself against the counter for one of his talks. “What’s on your mind?”
He sharpened his gaze on me as he peeled off his eyeglasses. “I’m considering retirement sooner than originally planned.”
“That’s great.” I inspected his concerned look. “Or isn’t it?”
“It’s a big decision.”
“Well sure it is. But now you’ll be able to travel to all those places you and Mom talked about visiting. You’ll actually be able to have time to trek through South America.”
“That was always your mother’s dream. She spoke Spanish, I can’t. She always drove me crazy trying to get me to learn. She taped those silly flash cards to every piece of furniture, every appliance, every condiment in our cabinet. Sadly, I still don’t know the words to salt, toaster, or soap.”
“How sad,” I said. “How do you get by in life?”
“Without your mom, I have no idea sometimes. We always talked about the day we would be able to leave the business behind and act like a couple of empty-nesters traveling the country in a Winnebago.”
“It’s about time you take a break from it. I don’t know about the whole Winnebago thing though. I can’t picture it. I do however see you finding these quaint bed and breakfasts in nice small towns and talking the ears off all the other guests.”
“I’m getting tired, Emma. I know it’s time I start thinking about enjoying a bit of life before it’s too late, but I’m concerned.” He gazed out the window.
“About what?”
“That I’ll get old and be bored to tears once I make the decision to slow down. I counted on your mom to be there with me to enjoy this time in our life. I just don’t know what it’s going to be like. How much fun will it be to travel alone?”
“Dad, it’s been twelve years. You’re a handsome man. There are lots of pre
tty women that I’m sure would vie for a sliver of your attention. Don’t you think it’s about time you shower them with some of your good charm?”
“I don’t have the energy or desire to even think about courting another person. I couldn’t be so lucky to find perfection the second time around. Besides, I’m content with my solitude.”
“I have the perfect image of Mom engrained in my mind too, but Dad, no one’s perfect.”
“I am.” He struggled to keep a straight face.
“Sure you are.” I shook my head. “Tell me how it was, Dad. When you first married Mom, what did you plan for your life together?” I rested my elbows on the counter and snuggled my cheek in my hands.
“Having children was the biggest plan. I wanted three, she wanted five.”
“And you wound up with just me?”
“Because we took one look at you and couldn’t imagine sharing our love with anyone else.”
I had a feeling the cancer in her ovaries was what stopped their plan short, but I beamed at his melodramatic interpretation.
“How did you know you loved her?”
“For me it was the littlest things. Like the way she would jump at the sight of a spider and turn to me for safety. When she didn’t think I saw, she would pick those damn ugly insects up with her bare hands and not flinch. She loved to make me feel like she needed me. I just loved being with her and ached when I wasn’t. Still do. This is why I am afraid of retiring. I'm afraid of having too much time on my hands.”
“Then, why are you? You’re only in your sixties. You still have a couple of good years left in you.” I winked at him.
“The board of directors has asked me to consider it. They think it’s time for a change with some fresh leadership.”
“Can they do that?”
“They’d never kick me out, but I feel it might be in the best interest of the company, too. I see that fiancé of yours shining and I know if given the control, he’d be brilliant. And I want to give him the chance to show his ability to the board. He would be my choice for successor.”
Would he still be his choice if he had known about the twenty-five thousand dollar mistake? Could Colin manage the company as successfully as my dad? Although intelligent, I doubted he was as capable as Roger Hill. This was my dad’s love. Creating a successful company where people could earn an income from his efforts and support families of their own was what inspired him to rise out of bed every morning. Helping others to achieve had always been my dad’s driving force. Colin dashed out the door everyday for more selfish reasons – climbing the ladder. He loved to outsmart and outshine. Looking the best was his driving force. He was too independently focused to lead.
