Single Player: Humor, Love, Breast Cancer and a Gaming Girl...

by Nicole, Jamie

  Chris’s plan is a simple one. We start by walking along the outside aisles so I won’t feel trapped before moving to the taller, more enclosed, interior aisles. We’ve only been here for about twenty minutes and we’re both surprised and excited by my quick adjustment to store life so Chris decides to turn things up a notch and says it’s time we “go all in”.

  At this point, knowing my full back story he declares in his very doctorial, opiniony, way that the best place for us to go is… cue Freddy Krueger song (three, four better lock your door)… door finishing’s! If you guessed that I do not like his plan than you are the winner (of nothing). My breathing begins to accelerate as soon as he mentions it.

  Moments later as we approach the dreadful row marked with the number eight high above (seven, eight better stay up late… OH MY GOD!), the skin on my chest begins to heat and sends the sensation charging up my neck, causing all sorts of splotchy patches to pop up in a clear outburst of my true inner feelings, which could only be described as… HORROR! As we turn onto the aisle I catch my reflection in a door kick-plate that’s hanging at eye level and I scream when it appears Freddy Krueger himself is staring back at me.

  “HOLY HELL!” I shout at my reflection.

  Chris spins around, shouts back an “AGH!” in response and then looks at me as concern steals across his eyes before he’s had the chance to conceal it. Clearly the hives that are marring all of my exposed skin are as wicked in their size and stature as I think they are. The rate at which my body has turned on me is pretty impressive. All it took was the walk from aisle one to aisle eight and suddenly I’m a freak of nature (five, six get your crucifix)!

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you and scare you like that. Those hives just weren’t there a second ago and now they are. Just… wow!” That’s helping so much, really. Best… doctor… ever!

  “What, you’ve never seen a case of leprosy before?” Not a funny joke… got it. “Never mind the hives. ‘Hives happen’ is what my pops used to say back in the day.” Pops? Back in the day? What the hell? Has this trip turned me into an eighty-year-old? Now he’s looking at me like maybe we should rethink aisle eight.

  “Do you want to do some more loops and see if those,” he says flipping his hand around in the direction of my face, “will go away? Or would you rather stay here? Lady’s choice.” What a nice guy. I need to meet his girl and tell her to hold on tight to this one or to watch out, I may give her a run for her money (I’m funny. I insinuated that I could run. Not unless Freddy himself is chasing after me).

  “I want to get better. Hives or not, I choose to stay. Come on man, let’s go look at some hardware (giggle).”

  I did it, people! I shopped, I browsed, I touched hard finishing’s (sorry, I had to) and - get ready for this piece of crazy news - I SAW BURT! He was leery at first (clever man) - I’m sure all my exposed, hivey, leprosy had something to do with it - but soon enough he came around and was a great help just like before. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

  He introduces me to some amazing new wall patch kits (if you’re not into that sort of thing, sorry, but I am.) then for no good reason at all I grab some new pavers, a medium-sized Japanese fern tree and a bench to put under it. I decide that when I get home today I’m going to make my front yard a nice, cozy, outdoor sitting space to watch Master frolic around in. My spur of the moment decision is seconded by both Burt and Chris, leaving me no room to over think my freshly tested instincts.

  We’re finishing loading up all our outdoor supplies onto the massive, heavy-duty rolling cart and are heading back inside to pick up some new vanity lights when I see The mom. I quickly realize that she doesn’t see me because right before my eyes she takes a large flask out from what appears to be a new leather bag and takes a long pull from it that would easily drown a medium-sized linebacker. The other thing I take note of is the giant, bearded man standing next to her who’s patiently waiting his turn for a nip of whatever’s in that flask, and I’m guessing it’s not juice.

  Watching in shock I’m frozen in place staring as the two of them finish their midday toast before turning and heading down the aisle marked ceiling fans. Chris is talking to Burt about the best way to install my new pavers, completely unaware of the drama that’s just played out before my eyes. I pull out my phone and dial Liddy’s cell.

  “Ello, Govena!” she chirps in her best British orphan accent.

  “Liddy,” I shout-whisper. “Listen, I’m at the Depot (apparently I’m a spy because suddenly I feel the need to talk in code) and I just saw my mother and she’s walking around with some seriously sketchy dude!”

  “Wait. What? How? I just dropped her at AA like twenty minutes ago. It must’ve just been someone who looked like her. The woman you saw must just be a look alike.” Wool, I’d like you to meet Liddy’s eyes.

  “Um, Liddy? It was definitely Charlotte and I hate to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure she’s drinking. At The Depot, not the AA.” I can’t stop with the abbreviated spy talk!

  “WHAT?!” Never thought she had that tone in her. Good on ya. She isn’t done either. “CONNOR! Get in the car. We’re going to The Depot. See you in ten CeeCee. Tail her and I’ll call you when we get there.” She’s gone and I’m already pushing my giant cart in the perp’s direction trying to get the coordinates of their current location.

  I look behind me and see Chris giving Burt a nice firm handshake in thanks for his help this afternoon. His eyes meet mine and he can instantly tell something’s up. The wheels on my rig are squeaking like mad and I realize that if I want to remain unnoticed by the “convicts” I need to slow down and get control of the cart as well as my emotions. I refuse to let this woman ruin my day. She’s done more than enough day-ruining in her lifetime.

  “CeeCee! Wait up!” Chris is gaining on me fast and I’m not stopping. There’s a shit storm that’s about to kick up and I’m on a mission. Currently I have no specific plan in place other than to continue following the you know who and sketchy as directed by Liddy, the newly-appointed leader of this little operation.

  “SHHHHH!” I whisper loudly at him, my spit flying past either side of the finger I have pressed firmly against my lips. “She’ll see us.”

  “Who?” He says, frantically looking around for whoever’s causing my current freak out.

  “My mom! I just saw her. Here! She was drinking AND it’s the middle of the day AND she’s supposed to be sober AND right now she’s supposed to be at The AA.” Understanding shows across his face. His eyes dart around some more and I can see when he spots my doppelganger at the end of the aisle, who again is swigging from the shiny flask. Keepin’ it classy, mom. Keepin’ it classy.

  “What are you trying to accomplish by spying on her? Just go confront her. I’m here, I’ll go with you. There’s no reason we can’t all act like civilized adults here.” Dr. Chris is back and for the first time I’d like him to drop his doctor’s façade and be a pissed off friend instead.

  “We are not confronting that lying, convicted, drunken, mother-faker! I am far too angry to deal with her and besides, I’ve called my brother and he’s on his way here now. The plan is to watch her like Liddy said to do and wait.”

  “I’d like to go on record right now as saying that I don’t think this is going to end well and I think your plan is terrible. That’s it, just wanted to put that out there before the shit starts hitting the fan.” He’s got his hands crossed in front of his chest like a stubborn toddler, and without warning his obstinance flares something up in me that I’m unable to explain.

  “Fine! You want me to deal with it! FINE!” My shouting does not go unnoticed. This store proves to be a bit of an acoustical nightmare when yelling, because the sound echoes all up and down the many long and high aisles before bouncing right back to your own ears.

  My mom turns to see what the ruckus is all about and when she does, our aqua eyes lock. Mine in determination, hers in fear. This is how our first meeting should have
gone, with me telling her exactly how I’ve felt about her leaving us all those years ago, but I guess today’s been picked as the time to make things right. It’s time for a reckoning.

  “How dare you.” My finger is up and closing in on her, but I know better than to actually touch her. I’m aware of her legal rights and my very real fear of being locked up in a jail cell. “Connor and Liddy have been bending over backwards to make you comfortable, to give you a home, help you get back on your feet and this is how you repay them?” I point to the flask sticking out of her purse and she knows she’s busted.

  “Please don’t tell them. Please… I promise, it won’t happen again.” Big guy next to her takes the flask from out of her purse and boldly brings it to his lips in a show of open defiance. He and I hold eye contact until he’s done drinking and then he places it back in her bag for me to see. Asshat!

  “I’m afraid It’s too late for that because I’ve already called them and they’re on their way here! I guess you’ll have to explain the “it won’t happen again” plan to them and see how they feel about it. I’m sure they’d be delighted to meet your friend here, too. He seems awesome. Matter of fact, maybe you can go stay with him until your next stint in prison.” Chris has his hand on my back, supporting me while I say the things I’ve needed to say to my mother so that I can finally release the toxic anger I’ve had bottled up inside me for so long.

  She has the nerve to stare down at her feet in distress while the big lush with her huffs off like the mutt he is, sputtering something about how he doesn’t have time to deal with other people’s family shit right now. My phone beeps and I look down and see that it’s Connor.

  we’re here.

  what aisle are you on?

  I type back

  Five… and then we wait.

  “Mom?” Connor is out of breath as he runs up the aisle like a crazed, confused lunatic (that’s a first for Mr. Methodical).

  “I don’t understand? You’re drinking?” It’s sad how shocked he is. He shouldn’t have trusted her, but he’s so good he refused to see her for the person she really is, a mother who left her family for booze and showed back up hoping in time we’d all forget about her “little” indiscretion after trying to pass the buck on to our dad. Not likely.

  “You don’t understand how it is for me. I can’t live with what I’ve done to you guys. To that other family! I’ll never be able to fix this or make anything right.”

  She’s crying now and I’m disgusted. I don’t know exactly when it happened but over the last couple of weeks my distrust in her has grown. Maybe it was because she didn’t fight harder for me or my instincts aren’t as bad as I once thought. But I see her clearly now and I know what she’s doing and it’s done. Not on my watch.

  I step in front of Connor to finish what I started. “You may as well go find Brutus, because you are no longer welcome. You can call or text with an address when you get one and we’ll make sure you get your things, but I’ll be damned if I sit by and watch you continue to leach off Liddy and Connor, using their kindness against them! Not for one more day.” Chris is quietly rubbing my back and the other two are staring at me like I’ve grown a third head. I get it, I’m shocking myself with the cahoona’s I’m displaying but hey, I’m my father’s daughter, not this leech’s.

  She turns and as she is about to walk away she finally decides to show us her true colors. That a girl.

  “I don’t want any of that shit. You can keep all of it, none of it’s my style anyway,” she says looking pointedly at Connor and Liddy before turning back to me.

  “And you, little girl. You think you’re so much better than me but you’re not. I drink my problems away but you, you just try to hide from yours. We’re no different, you and I. Have fun looking in the mirror, daughter.”

  Without another word she turns and walks away. Never once does she look back with any pain or regret, she simply walks out of our lives once more to go and find her man and her flask, recycling her life story yet again. I can’t help but be thankful, because in a very short amount of time she’s managed to teach me exactly who I don’t want to be and that would be anything like her. From this point forth I will NO longer be hiding from my life but instead I vow to live it. For the first order of business, I need to find my best friend and bring him back home where he belongs.

  seventeen

  Since that day at The Depot I’ve turned a corner in my life. Right now I’m rounding yet another one and see my destination as the engraved brass-plated name cover of one, Dr. Chris Small comes into view. Funny, I never knew his last name was Small. Silly thing not to ask, but I suppose you could say my mind has been preoccupied as of late, but not anymore. Not since the jailbird left town. At last I feel free, and I’m hoping this visit will come as a giant surprise to my fav doc. The moment he sets those beautiful eyes on my smiling face he’s going to know that all his relentless pushing, abuse, and aggravation have indeed paid off because I’m OUT BABY (just the regular kind of out, not the out of the closet kind)!

  Tap, tap my tiny knuckles say to the door. “Come in,” says the friendly voice I’ve grown to adore on the other side.

  “Hello good sir. I come baring gifts for the man who saved my life.” Our eyes meet and a small smile spreads instantly across his face.

  “You’re here.” He comes around his grand mahogany desk and takes my hand as he leads me over to sit on the couch by the windows. “I can’t believe you’ve done this… Talk,” he says still holding my hands (not very doctory, but what do I know.).

  “I wanted to surprise you and, seeing that I so grandly have, mission number one is accomplished.” I say making a giant check mark in the air with my free hand. The rest of what I’ve come to say is something I’ve been thinking about ever since our picnic dinner at my place the first week we met.

  “Mission two is this; I’d like to have the genetic testing done that you previously recommended. I’d like both the BRCA one and two tests, and I’d like to set it up today if you can help me. I’m ready, no matter the outcome.” His face lights up with a mega-watt smile, setting me aglow with its luminescence.

  “Just so happens you’ve come to the right place. But, you should know the results take about a month or so to get back and in that time you can be sure to deal with some pretty serious stress. Do you really think you’re ready for that?” Hell no!

  “Yep (nope), I’m just hoping this Dr. friend I know can schedule me in for a bunch of appointments to work out how I’m going to process those results one way or the other. I have a feeling he can, and I happen to know that I can.” Then I wink at him, which lands me a wink in return. He really is incredibly dreamy.

  He’s on the phone scheduling my test for later this afternoon when I hear him tell the mystery person on the other end of the line to come down to meet the patient. He explains that she’s the other woman he spends all his free time with these days. A minute goes by and then another round of tapping starts at the door.

  “Why, you’re a very popular guy, Dr. Small.” He smiles his dreamy smile at me before shouting, “Come in,” to his newest visitor.

  The door opens and in glides the most stunning Amazonian woman I’ve ever seen. She’s so graceful she looks to be flowing (seriously, she flows) across the room towards us. Both of our eyes are turned in her direction, as she holds us captive with her rare beauty. A baby would stop what it was doing to check her out. Hubba-Hubba.

  “Hello, darling. Is this the friend you’ve been dying for me to meet?” She’s British. Why are little bells going off in my head right now? It’s like I know her, but I know I don’t. You don’t forget this woman. She extends her lovely hand out to shake mine, and as I take it in my own unremarkable one she does that beautiful, European, double kiss thing to me and I practically swoon. Again, I’m straight, but this woman is just… Let’s just say, I’m glad Ashton isn’t here. I’m still mad at him, but also I have come to terms with the fact that I can’t live without
him, so there’s that.

  “I’m Cecilia. Well CeeCee actually. Cecilia’s my formal name, no one ever uses it.” I’m stammering like a school boy asking out a girl for the very first time. ‘YOU’RE STRAIGHT,’ I shout loudly to myself.

  “I love it. You’ll be Cecilia to me. Of course, only if that’s alright by you?” She’s too pretty. I nod my approval of her formal name choice, unable to speak.

  “I’m Angela (OMG, it’s a name of an angel!). I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you from our Christian here. If I were a lesser woman, I’d have been terribly jealous of all the time he spends with you. Good thing I’m not though because you’re quite beautiful.” Wait. Chris plus Small is Chris Small. But she said Christian all Britishy and it sounds so familiar. OH MY GOOD GRACIOUS! SWEET BABY JESUS, HE’S MRNOTSOSMALL@ALL! I stand up, wildly throwing my hands around the room, gesturing at all the doctory things on the walls while trying to make sense of all the new data I’ve just become privy too. Then I see it… an… XBOX!

  He watches me working things out and then he witnesses the moment I finally put all the pieces together. Honestly, you’d have to be a monkey not to recognize the shocked facial expression exploding all over the many planes of my face! I’m all mouth agape, eyes’ swollen like melons, hands thrown up to my forehead in horror!

  “YOU! I know who you are.” I say while backing away from him and pointing my well-practiced pointing finger. “And! AND! I have a very bad feeling that you know exactly who I am.” His British lover now looks confused as well. Welcome to the party, Hot Stuff!

  “Wait. I thought the two of you were already friends? Am I confused, Christian? This is the CeeCee you told me you wanted me to meet? The one I’m doing the test for in an hour?” At least she looks as lost as me and - wait - she’s a geneticist and that good looking? There’s not a woman alive who has a chance in bloody hell against, against… That!