Do-Overs

by Christine Jarmola

  “You’re right,” Stina confirmed. “He can get up in front of hundreds of people and be magnificent, but one on one he really isn’t very confident. He must really have the hots for you if he dredged up the nerve to ask you for coffee.”

  Where was the gay thing? I had avoided this guy for over a month because it wasn’t possible and now all they say is he’s shy?

  “What time are you meeting him?” Stina asked.

  A look at my cell for the time and I knew I’d better book it or be late. “Gotta go.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll wait up,” laughed Stina.

  “Waiting for all the juicy details,” added Rachel. “Just one thing Lottie. Don’t say anything just yet to Olivia.”

  “Yeah, she has a few issues, as Rachel would say, with Al,” said Stina.

  Here it comes. The bad news. I looked to Rachel for affirmation.

  “Yup, he’s the only guy who ever blew her off.” They both exchanged a knowing smile and I left on that note. Off to find out if maybe there could be a potential where none had been before.

  Rounding the corner from the dorm I suddenly remembered I had forgotten my special eraser. I sure didn’t want to go to such an important rendezvous without it. Hurrying back to the room, I was stopped by the conversation I heard through the door.

  “Should we have told her?” It was Stina’s voice.

  “I just couldn’t. She seemed so happy,” replied Rachel. “Let’s see how things go. Maybe she won’t even like him.”

  “Sure, one cup of coffee and she might figure it out for herself,” replied Stina, not bubbling for once.

  I slowly withdrew my hand from the doorknob. So they did think he was gay after all. Half of me was angry that they hadn’t been honest with me. The other half was grateful that at least I would have a chance to find out for myself. But as good or as bad as the evening would go, it wouldn’t be done over. I wasn’t about to go back in that room right then and know that they knew that I knew what they had been talking about.

  So there I sat impatiently waiting in the library reading room. Trying to look nonchalant. Okay, he was five minutes late. That was fine. I hope I didn’t look too eager. I checked my cell phone for important texts. There were none. I fiddled with it looking like I had important texts anyway.

  Ten minutes late. How long did I wait? People kept passing by. I knew that they didn’t know that I was waiting for a “date” that didn’t seem to be coming. So why did they keep looking at me like I was pathetic? I had read all my emails, even the spam folder. Still no “date.” Fifteen minutes. I should have scraped together whatever self-esteem I had left and slunk out of the stood-up date level of The Inferno. But then again maybe his meeting had run long and if I left he’d think I didn’t like him and ruin everything. There was a war going on in my head and it was taking no prisoners. Then she came in—all long legs and flowing black hair. I tried to look very busy.

  “So I told Al,” she said loudly to her friend obviously forgetting she was in a library. However, I wasn’t going to file a complaint as she had my undivided attention the minute she said Al. “I couldn’t go with him and Butch tonight. I guess they went on without me.”

  Butch? Tonight?

  “Oh, hi. I didn’t see you over there in the corner,” said Ms. Long Legs. “Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”

  I couldn’t respond.

  “Oh, cat got your tongue. Well, I’m Taylor and this is my BFF Taylor. Isn’t that funny.”

  “We’re both named Taylor,” said Taylor number two, with shorter legs and definitely a nicer aura. “Isn’t that ironic that we are best friends with the same name. We met the first day of school and it was like well, so easy to remember her name, cause, well it was my name.” Taylor two laughed. Number one didn’t. I had the feeling she had heard the story before. “In fact at last count I found fourteen people named Taylor here on campus. Girl Taylors and boy Taylors. And that’s not counting the ones with Taylor as a last name.”

  Thing One cut her off, “So, now you know our names, and probably more than you wanted to know about our history. What is yours? And please don’t say Taylor.”

  “Lottie, uh my name is Lottie,” I finally stammered out. “Nice to meet you.” My mother would be proud that all those manners she drilled into me as a child weren’t wasted.

  Thing Two was ready for a pleasant chat. Thing One simply gave a smug smile and started to walk on.

  “Well Lottie, I guess we’re going. Hope to see you around. Don’t forget, my name is Taylor. Easy to remember,” Thing Two added as she hurried to catch up with the alpha queen canine.

  I guess eighteen minutes is how long I should have waited. I was replaced by a guy named Butch. It was time to quit waiting. Not just for the evening, but for good. The whole “romance” with Al Dansby was just a figment of my imagination and was not ever going to happen no matter how many different time space realities I could create.

  I was back to my dorm by nine and luckily the entire suite was empty. I grabbed my trusty eraser. It was time to undo this sad evening. “Do your stuff, my little friend.” I instantly found myself standing outside my door, holding the doorknob, eavesdropping on a conversation between Rachel and Stina.

  “Should we have told her?” It was Stina’s voice.

  “I just couldn’t. She seemed so happy,” replied Rachel. “Let’s see how things go. Maybe she won’t even like him.”

  “Sure, one cup of coffee and she might figure it out for herself,” replied Stina, not bubbling for once.

  My trusty friend had failed me. I couldn’t go back far enough and undo the fact that I had told them about my not-to-be-date. Now I had an hour to kill. The library was definitely off the list. I went out the back door of the dorm thinking I’d go for a walk. It was too cold and windy. I went back in the dorm. Couldn’t do laundry, as I would have had to go back into my room to get it first. Maybe one of the study rooms would be vacant—someplace to sit and be alone and feel sorry for myself. I was in the mood to throw myself the biggest pity party ever. It would make Mardi Gras look like a one-year-old’s birthday party.

  The basement study room was full of the K’s cramming for a test. Gratefully they didn’t see me looking in the door. I went up to the first floor. Busy also. No studying going on, just some couple making out. I guess when someone told them to get a room, they didn’t clarify that it shouldn’t be a study room. Seeing another happy couple was just great for my self-esteem bucket that already had a big hole in it and was leaking everywhere. Off to the second floor. Busy also. Since when did so many people in college start studying so much? Third floor. Finally a dark and deserted room.

  I entered the room. No need to turn on the lights. Depression prefers the dark. It was the perfect place to let go and have a good cry. Wow, I must have been really upset. I was crying in stereo. No, someone else was crying too.

  I asked the dumbest question on earth, “Are you okay?” Obviously if someone is crying they are not okay.

  “I’ll be fine in a minute,” answered Olivia’s voice from the corner. “Just don’t turn on the lights right now.”

  We both sat and sniffled for a moment. I could smell the distinct aroma of alcohol in the tiny room. We all knew that Olivia was a social drinker. She wasn’t unlike so many other college students I had met over the years. But tipsy on a Tuesday night at nine sitting alone in a study room, that is starting to sound more like a problem than a party. Finally I broke the ice. “Which of us is going to tell our tale of woe first?”

  “You first,” Olivia whispered.

  “It’s silly really. Here’s the condensed version. I met a guy this evening that I’ve been trying to get to notice me for months. He suggested we meet later and go get coffee. Then he didn’t show up, and the over-sensitive, pathetic loser that I am overreacted. So he changed his mind. Should have been no big deal. It was just coffee.

  “Wow, saying it out loud really does show how pathetic I am. It was ju
st coffee with a stranger,” I concluded.

  Olivia’s response wasn’t what I expected. “Yes, but he still hurt your feelings.” Olivia paused for a moment and then continued. “Our feelings aren’t always logical. Rachel’s been helping me for the last two years come to grips with that. You’re a romantic, Lottie. I could see that in you the first week we met. You love your literature with dashing men and happy endings. You’ve lived your life in a family of happy endings. And I’m sure some day you’ll get your happily-ever-after. You’re kind and caring and you deserve it.”

  “Don’t we all deserve a happily-ever-after?”

  We sat in the silence a while longer until Olivia spoke. “A fairytale. That’s it. We all grow-up thinking life is a fairytale. That is until someone ruins it for us. If you haven’t noticed, I drink too much.” She gave a sad snort of a laugh. “Rachel’s been telling me that for a year now. But it helps. Not her telling me that. That doesn’t do anything but make me feel worse about myself. The drinking helps, some.”

  “How?”

  “Dulls the pain. If I drink enough it goes completely away. But just for a while. Then it comes back. Sometimes worse, cause I do stupid things when I’m drunk. I tend to hook up with any guy who comes along. Only the gay ones turn me down.” She paused and then whispered, “Or the really nice ones.”

  The quietness returned. My gut reaction was to tell her everything would be fine. But for once in my life I kept my mouth shut. How did I know that everything would work out? I didn’t even know what was wrong. I had a friend in high school whose sister died. He said the hardest thing was living on without her. The second hardest thing was putting up with all the concerned looks and unsolicited platitudes of how it was God’s will and it was all for some divine purpose. He taught me that sometimes the most comforting words are the ones not spoken.

  “It always comes back.” Olivia was talking again. I’m not sure if she was actually talking to me or herself. “Maybe in a nightmare. Or just a sound. Smells also. There are just some smells that bring it back instantly.”

  “You’ve lost me there.”

  “You’re so lucky,” Olivia said with a little hiccup. I was beginning to realize she’d had more to drink than I had first thought.

  “Everyone just sees the Beautiful Olivia Corazon. The Beautiful Olivia Corazon adored by every guy on the planet. They don’t know that she’s never had a guy that loved her. They only see the beauty on the outside. They don’t realize that inside is just a broken little girl.”

  This conversation was going way deeper than I had expected. How could Olivia have anything tragic? She was perfect and every guy on campus would agree. Something bad was wrong. I thought seriously of going to find Rachel, but I didn’t want to leave Olivia alone.

  “I was happy until I was seven. I don’t remember my dad. He left when I was so little. I don’t remember him at all. He left. Just left.” Again the silence entered the dark room. “My mom and I had each other. We were happy. Then he came along. My mom thought he was her knight in shinning armor. That lasted less than a year.”

  Olivia gave a gut-wrenching sob. “Lasted until she came back unexpected from Christmas shopping and caught him molesting her eight year old daughter. Wasn’t the first time either. I was so scared. And he’d threatened me if I told. He didn’t just threaten me. He threatened that he’d hurt my mom. And he told me she wouldn’t believe me anyway. I was just a little girl. I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared.”

  I was stunned, sickened, saddened. Nothing in my middle class, SUV, piano lessons world had prepared me for this. Sure I’d read stories about abused children. But they were other people. Not my friends. Not Olivia.

  “My mom called my uncles and once they showed up, I never saw that perv again. I heard he was killed in a hit and run later that week. I know it was just a freak coincidence, but I still always wondered if my uncles had something to do with it. I never asked. They never told. All I knew was he could never come back.” We sat in silence for a few more minutes when a tiny little girl’s voice asked in whisper, “So why didn’t I ever feel safe again?”

  I knew I needed to say something. To give some sort of support. Instead I did what I always do in a crisis situation. The wrong thing. I just stared at her like she was a freak show attraction.

  “Why did I just tell you that? The only person besides my family I’ve ever told was Rachel. Crap, I always say too much when I’m drinking. Now you’ll be giving me those tragically sympathetic looks all the time. The walking on eggshells—oh so sorry for Olivia looks.”

  It wasn’t what I was thinking. I was thinking how badly I wished I could fix things, go back to when she was eight and protect that sweet little innocent girl. But, she was already regretting baring her soul to me. Now every time she saw me she would know that I knew. Olivia had had enough hurt already in her life. At least I could fix that one thing.

  “Olivia, your story is safe with me,” I said as I waved the eraser.

  The basement study room was filled with the K’s. But, I had a much more important mission. I pulled out my cell phone and hit Rachel’s number. Fortunately, she picked up.

  “Olivia is in the third floor study room and she looks upset. Maybe you had better go talk to her.”

  “Thanks Lottie. I’ll go right now. I’m just down the hall. This time of the year is always hard on her,” Rachel said and hung up.

  -18-

  Perspective

  “You never did tell me how your date went.”

  It was after midnight in our dorm room. I thought Stina was asleep until I heard her voice in the darkness. “With all the drama with Olivia, I forgot to ask how your date went. Sometimes I just lose my patience with Olivia and all her theatrics.”

  “Don’t be too hard on her,” I advised.

  “Oh, come on Lottie. You’re just too nice. I love Olivia, but she does bring a lot of her problems on herself. She goes out and gets drunk and then wonders why bad things happen. She needs to grow up.”

  I couldn’t be too hard on Stina. Until my earlier chat with Olivia in the dark study room I would have agreed in an instant. Olivia on the surface was what all of us wish we could be. Beautiful beyond comparison with the ability to attract any guy she wanted. But the surface is only that, the surface. In the layers below she was still that terrified eight-year-old little girl who had no control over the horrifying events in her life. Had that loss of control made Olivia into the totally-in-control-of-all-guys person she had become?

  How did I get that across to Stina without betraying a confidence that actually never happened for anyone but me?

  “I think things go deeper. My mom always taught me to love people as much like Jesus as possible. It isn’t optional. And the pricklier they are usually means the more hurting they are inside. The prickles stick both out and in. I used to get so frustrated with her when she said that. But the more I live, the more I know that everyone needs someone to give them unconditional love.”

  “Lottie, you’re right. But can I just vent about it a little bit longer? I’ll be nicer tomorrow,” said Stina with a tiny bit of bubble coming back. “And by the way. Love that word prick-les.” Stina was laughing again and I joined in. Guess that was a word from my childhood that didn’t quite work anymore.

  It was quiet again. Stina had distracted herself about Olivia and forgotten again about my not date. Good.

  “So how was your date?” came a perky voice in the darkness.

  “It didn’t happen.”

  “Oh, sorry. What happened? Did you change your mind? Did Olivia’s drama mess this up for you? I’m going to be mad all over again. This was so important to you. Does she ever think about how her problems screw-up everyone else’s lives?”

  “Simmer down missy. It wasn’t Olivia’s fault. I didn’t see her until after the not date. He just didn’t show up.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Yeah.”


  “Maybe he got hung up at his meeting?”

  “I waited eighteen minutes. I would have waited longer, but that Taylor with the black hair and long legs came in talking about how he had invited her to go with him and a friend and she had turned him down.”

  “Maybe you were the friend?”

  “No. Butch.”

  “Oh.” In the dark room a light was dawning in Stina’s head. I knew it was coming now. “Well, it’s good that you learned he was undependable before you got involved. He just wasn’t the guy for you.”

  “No, you’re right. Al Dansby was just a passing fantasy—not the guy for me.” So why did not-the-guy from our not-date give me so much real hurt.

  -19-

  VIP Turkey Missing

  Thanksgiving. A time of traditions. There were certain foods we only ever ate on that day, some sort of orange Jello with maraschino cherries, green bean casserole and sweet potatoes with pecans. Usually the pecan topping got eaten off and the sweet potatoes left behind. The irony about the menu was that everyone complimented the dishes, yet we never served them any other day except on Thanksgiving Day.

  Then there was family. My brother Jason and three teammates were home only for the day before returning back to Norman and practice. Jennifer and Jessica, a.k.a the twins, had been thrilled for ten minutes when I got home late Tuesday evening, but I hadn’t seen them for more than fifteen minutes at a time as their social schedules were packed. Their past two hours had been consumed with finding inventive ways to attract the attention of our brother’s friends. The rest of the usual suspects began arriving by 10:30 in the morning.

  Uncle Harold was there. He’s the one never to stand too close to, as he spits when he talks. On the other side of the living room was his ex-wife, Aunt Maude. They were divorced over fifteen years before, but in our family once you’re family you’re always family. So at every family function they both would come and pretend the other wasn’t there. And we all pretended that everything was fine. Hey, it’s awkward but it worked.