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

by Nicole, Jamie

  “Okay. Okay. Would you please sit down, CeeCee, and just give me a chance to explain all of this?” He gets up, takes my hand from my forehead and gently encourages me to follow him back over to the couch. “Do you remember that night not too long ago when you drank… a bit (his face says it was way past a bit but whatever) and then you proceeded to pass out on your couch?”

  “Oh God, no. Please don’t say anymore.” My head falls forward into my shaking hands and I feel the need to barf in memory of that night and because of this moment.

  “I don’t know how it happened, but somehow you video messaged me. I think maybe Master Chief did it on accident. Since we’ve been hanging out I’ve actually witnessed the Kinect pick up his heat signature in the room and sign you in.” I can’t look at him. I’m totally humiliated.

  “That night when you popped up on my screen, I couldn’t believe it when I saw that PrettyPanites was you. You can’t imagine how often I’d hoped to see you again someday and then like magic… You were just there, up on my flat screen staring back at me. I told you once that I thought it was just luck that I found you after all this time. But, I don’t think that anymore. I think some way, somehow in some kind of celestial, cheesy move, your dad finally brought us together. Bottom line, I don’t care how it happened I’m just glad that it did.”

  “I can’t believe you’re him.”

  He pulls me in, puts his heavy arms around me, and stands tightening the hug around me further. After a couple of minutes the Brit joins in and begins rubbing soothing circles on my slender back the way Chris/Christian (!!!) so often has recently and how Ashton used to. They should be a professional hugging duo. They’re that good.

  After several calming minutes I finally ask, “So how did you know where to find me? I mean, how did you know where I lived?”

  “I hate to say it, but that information was pretty easy to get my hands on. It may have been in your dad’s file and I may have looked it up. Then I may have gone over there only to find that the people who live there now are renting from one Cecilia St. May and they may have been nice enough to give me her address after being convinced that she and I were long lost friends from high school.” It’s cute the way his face wrinkles up with guilt during his lengthy confession.

  “I guess I need to have a talk with dear old Mr. and Mrs. Cox. Can’t have them giving out my address to all my ‘long lost friends ’now, can I?”

  He looks hurt until I finish, “But, I also suppose I owe them a big thank you, because without you and all your help, no way would I be so well adjusted today.” For some reason he thinks that’s funny and he replaces his frown with a goofy smile, while the Brit and I laugh at his silly, relieved expression.

  Seeing that everything appears to be settled, Angela’s ready to go and pulls me along after her.

  “Well, now that that’s all sorted out, how about I take the patient here up to my office and do the tests now since I have a couple minutes to spare. Then you’re free to go and the day will be all yours to do with as you please, Ms. Cecilia.” She’s so lovely.

  “I’d love to do it now (I don’t mean that!).” I may be blushing wildly.

  As we leave the room, Chris/Christian/Mrnotso asks, “So. Now that we’re good, do you want to play with me later today? (WHAT? His girlfriends right here!) Call of Duty’s just not the same without you by my side (okay… that makes way more sense). You really are the shit, ya know.” Yeah I am!

  “I’d love to play with you (UGH!),” I give him my best ‘I dare you look’ and continue, “I’m taking the bus home after she sticks me with her needles. Master needs a walk, then I think I may stroll over to the mall. Hopefully Victoria and all her Secret’s will be seeing all my mystery’s today,” I give Chris my famous double eyebrow lift and he barks out a laugh like a seal.

  “Okay, you two game geeks. How about we go and test those genes of yours, MsPanties. Oh, and Love? How about later we play a game or two of our own?” Her singular wink means way more than my double one did, good for you Chris. His hard finishing’s are for sure getting shined tonight… and TWICE!

  ***

  After my blood’s been drawn and sent off to the lab, I bid my new friend Miss Universe/smarty-pants geneticist goodbye before taking the elevator (I TOOK THE ELEVATOR!) down to the main lobby. I’m about to exit the building when a sign above the threshold catches my eye:

  SUPPORT GROUP MEETING: THIS THURSDAY NIGHT 7-9pm. FAMILY AND SURVIVORS ENCOURAGED.

  Underneath, in smaller print it reads: free donuts and coffee !

  What would a good support group be without those infamous sustaining accoutrements? The small font at the bottom does them no justice at all, they deserve top billing or at least second row, and in bold to be sure! I’d be willing to bet more people would show if those globs of sugar and caffeine were given their due credit. Finishing my internal tangent, I decide to at least add the time and date into my phone’s calendar and then maybe one Thursday evening I’ll decide if I’m in need of donuts and coffee.

  An hour later I arrive at the mall and, unfortunately for me it’s as big as I remember. Even though I know I can do this, I’m still stuck outside the doors reciting the lyrics to Blackbird, trying to calm my breathing by matching it to the heavy bass accompaniment of my heart.

  The panic hasn’t disappeared from my life entirely. It’s only now I’m capable of handling it thanks to all the recently-learned and routinely tested therapy techniques I’ve added to my arsenal of tricks. Standing our her alone in the heat, repeating the familiar lyrics over and over, I’m reminded that I haven’t heard from Ashton since the night of our relationship-destroying selfies.

  The images in my mind bring forth the truth of the perilous situation I find myself in with him. It’s possible that I’ve lost any chance I may have had with Ashton, because for the first time he’s not following our typical quarrelling M.O. Not once has he contacted me to see if we were all right, to see if I was all right. This is… Not… Good.

  If I‘m ever going to get the nerve up to go into this mall, I have to extinguish all my racing thoughts of Ashton and just make my move. A moment later I’m struck by a tidal wave of moxie, just what the doctor ordered. In reply to this sudden dash of courage I swing the door open and Hel..lo world! I’m at the mall! I strut my stuff (I really have no stuff to speak of) closer to the doors and as I approach the glass and steal beauties seem to throw themselves open in welcome (Turns out it’s just a really nice guy graciously holding them open for me as he leaves.). At once I’m struck by my most favorite mall smell, Sbarro pizza. The garlicky, cheesy, greasy goodness is calling to me, so I answer. I step up to the metal counter, point to the slice I believe I need in order to survive and am handed my bounty on a perfect red and green circular plate.

  Moments later, I’m sitting at a two-top, no memory of paying or asking for the soda before me, watching intently as people happily and haphazardly browse around. Not only have I just had the greatest slice of pizza ever but also I seem to have found myself a little slice of heaven here at this table as I watch all the other shoppers walk around with their bags full and their arms weary from a job well done.

  Most of these people seem to be oblivious to the chaos that surrounds them, but not me. I can see it like a lone bee in a busy hive. There was a time that I used to be just like them, carefree and open for the adventure of the day. But, then my dad passed and I left the hive to live a life of solitude and self-induced hibernation just like the bear that eats from it.

  Someone needs to witness this miracle happening in my life and that someone is most definitely Ashton. Maybe I should text him a picture of me in the mall’s glass elevator! You don’t get much more brazen than a glass elevator in THE MALL! He’ll die. I’m dying. The bear has become the bee.

  Deciding it’s high time for me to become the person Ashton needs and knows me to be, I march to the elevator, climb inside, press the number one and throw myself against the rear wall while thanking t
he elevator-gods that I’m alone. I pull the camera far enough back to catch the surroundings behind me and shoot. The caption reads:

  Missed this so much.

  But…miss you more.

  Forgive me.

  C

  Now all I can do is hope to hear back from him. In order to keep my mind occupied and off of fretting over his reply I casually roam through the endless supply of stores around me. I’ve stopped twice to use the restroom and bought three pairs of earrings from Claire’s (buy two get one free) and still, no reply. Taking into account the time change, he should be up by now, its noon by him and he’s always up by noon. What in Hades hot Hell is his problem?

  No more games, it’s time to get serious. It’s time for the Big Distraction, Victoria’s Secret. While heading toward paradise I notice a group of girls I went to high school with coming my way. In the hopes of avoiding the typical, awkward, ‘how’ve you been’s’ or even worse, ‘how’s Ashton?’ conversations I turn my head to the side and blast out an extremely realistic and juicy fake cough.

  Gratefully, my crazy coughing goes unnoticed by the self-absorbed girls and I’m able to continue on to my favorite shop in peace. It’s in the midst of my quiet strolling that I realize this is the first time in the entirety of Ash and I’s friendship that I have absolutely no flipping clue where the overconfident, narcissus is (he really is great) and I’m starting to long for him more than I’m comfortable with (hence the mean inner dialogue).

  Finally, my long lost lingerie store is in my sights (that’s not fair to Victoria, she was never lost, I was). I stare in appreciation at the many dolled up mannequins in the window and am enamored at how each of them seems to glow under the exact perfect amount of ambient light shining from above them. Their smooth, plastic breasts sit perfectly in their lacey cups while their perfectly-shaped bottoms are flawlessly cupped inside the matching counterparts, their pretty… pretty panties. I swear I can hear angels singing as I walk through these pink-highlighted walls, and never have I felt more alive, more at home than I do right here, right now, in this moment. When I’m old and grey and dead, this is what I hope to find in heaven.

  It’s thirty minutes later and I’ve had a change of heart. After searching every drawer and matching tiny-hanger I have yet to find a single matching set in the elusive, ever-popular 34B. I’ve been told finding this set will more than likely end in a bust (I apologize, I couldn’t stop myself.).

  Without a single matching set in hand, I finally give up the hunt and head to the changing room to try on my sorry lot of mismatches. Two pieces in, I realize something: the pieces Liddy and I design are not only a better fit, but they also offer a much more unique and tailored design perspective. Ours are better than The Secret’s! This is a life-changing, heart pounding, realization, bordering on blasphemous, and one I must share immediately with my business partner.

  So as not to waste the trip I purchase a really cute nighty, even though I’m inclined to believe I can design and make one that’s a much better fit. My eyes have been opened for the first time in years and if you consider I was in a self-inflicted cage not even two months ago, that’s pretty damn amazing. Quickly making my way out to the car, I type out a text to Liddy.

  Are you home?

  Love if I could stop by.

  C

  Instantly my phone chimes back with her reply:

  Yeppers,

  catch ya soon.

  L

  The bus drops me at the end of their street and I’m at their cottage-style house in what feels like minutes. Liddy already has the door opened before I’ve even stepped a single foot onto the walkway and I’m guessing my impromptu trip has made her a little nervous.

  “What’s up? Is everything okay?” It’s sweet how she worries over me. She’s only a few years older and yet she still mothers me like Mary Poppins. Don’t say a word, but secretly (not so secretly) I love it.

  “I just left the mall,” I begin and her eyes do a cute little shocked puppy thing. “I felt like it was time to reacquaint myself with my old friend Victoria. She was just as I remembered her and for a moment I was in heaven. But, do you know what I found Liddy?” She’s silent at first, waiting in anticipation but then asks, with confusion laced through her voice, “Bras and panties?” I Love her.

  “Cute. Yes. But, that’s not what I came all the way over here to tell you. What I was going to tell you was that I found… drum roll please,” she obliges by banging on the table, “Courage!” She stops and looks at me like I’ve grown a third boob. “We can do this! We can make money selling our stuff, Liddy! People, myself included, die for the mall stuff and that’s fine. But, our stuff? Our stuff is amazing. Before, I was all, ‘This is fun. Maybe we’ll sell some stuff’. But now, now I’m full on ready to make something big happen. If you’re ready then so am I. I’m full-on!”

  The smile that spreads over the lower half of her perfect, porcelain face is blinding. “Well now, that’s what a business partner wants to hear. Oddly enough, I just called that friend of yours, the accountant guy, and we’re meeting with him Wednesday morning, nine sharp - his words not mine, and he sounded totally serious about the sharp part.”

  “Awesome!” Add cheesy hand clapping. “I can’t wait for you to meet him. Keep in mind he’s not only a genius with numbers but that he also has an ability to shoot straight from the hip. He’s not going to blow smoke up our asses. If we show him our numbers and he says to go for it, then I say we go for it hard. Balls to the wall. No! Better… Boobies to bras! Butts to panties!”

  Liddy hops about as I continue the creeper clap, “You’re a dork!” she screams, “But, I love you! Here’s wishing that our numbers are the right ones!”

  Its five minutes later and we’ve moved the celebration to the kitchen where Liddy’s just grabbed a bottle of bubbly from the side-by-side, steel fridge, ready to make a pre-dinner toast. Connor gets home in the middle of our celebration, smiles at the two of us and points down the hall to let Liddy know in boyfriend code that he’s off for a quick shower. He’s got his cell pressed hard to his ear trying to hear his conversation over our celebratory whoops but still takes the extra moment required to plant a quick hello kiss on his ladies cheek as he passes by. Before he rounds the corner into the bathroom I hear him say, “Ash, Don’t worry about it. I checked on the status of things last week and it’s all good, everything’s right on time.” Before I have a chance to yank the phone from his ear and see if that’s the “Ash” I think it is, he’s gone inside and locked the door.

  “Do you know what that was about?” Liddy gives me a shoulder shrug in answer as I go on. “It’s just, today I finally got up the nerve to text Ashton and apologize for all my bad behavior and he still hasn’t returned my message. I’m losing it, Lidd. LOSING IT!” I bop my head on the table a couple of times for show and when I look back up Liddy’s staring down at me wearing a knowing grin.

  “You love him.” She declares and I realize with a fear ball the size of Saturn in my heart that I’m unable to refute her. I’m completely unable to deny the feelings I have for the Incredible Douche, and to top it all off it appears that now I’ll never get the chance to tell him about all the weird, twisted-up feelings I’ve discovered I have for him. Maybe he wouldn’t approve of me calling my feelings for him twisted or weird. I’ll just keep that bit to myself.

  “Unfortunately that appears to be the diagnosis. I’m lovesick and it hurts.” I’m sinking into some pretty unfortunate thoughts before Liddy chimes in with her next question. “I’m just curious, but have you and Ashton ever knocked boots?” What the hell, Liddy?

  “You are not asking me that.”

  “Oh, I’m totally asking you that. Give up the goods and I won’t tell you how awesome your broth...” I cut her off with a firm hand over her mouth as soon as I realize where she’s going with that statement.

  “Stop! No way am I letting you finish that sentence. The answer to your question is no. No boots have ever knock
ed. Not even a quick tap.” She’s staring at me with her beady (big and gorgeous) eyes, contemplating the truth of my reply.

  “I call bullshit.”

  “You can call bullshit all day long, it’s still the truth.” There’s more to the story and she knows it, the little minx.

  She continues on with her interrogation unfazed by my denial, “You’ve at least kissed him? I mean how can two people spend all their lives together the way the two of you have and not at least wondered about the kissing you could be doing?” My cheeks turn a crazy shade of maroon and she shoots her eyes up to heaven in a quick prayer of thanks.

  “HA! I KNEW IT! YOU’VE KISSED!” Maybe that knowledge will be enough and this line of questioning will end. I give her my very best eye roll and try to change the subject.

  “Back to the lingerie business. Now I was thinking…”

  “Nope. How far have you gone?” RE-LENT-LESS little fairy.

  “That’s it, only that far. I swear. Just the kissing.” She’s looks at me longer than necessary and I’d swear she’s doing math because her fingers look to be calculating something, maybe we’re back to the business after all.

  “CeeCee. Have you ever done things with anyone besides Ashton?” Silence. More silence. And more silence… There’s her answer. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

  “Um, may I point out that you’re hearing nothing?” She gives me the one eyebrow raise and I’m instantly envious of her talented eyebrow muscles.

  “Nothing, in this case, is EVERYTHING!” she says groaning. “You’re carrying your V-card and you want Ashton to check you out at the library. Only he’s too busy cataloguing with other card carriers so your card’s been left unpunched. Am I right?” My vagina is a library metaphor? No. No. No. Unacceptable.

  “My ‘card’ is off the list of approved dinnertime conversation topics.” Connor comes in the room right then and I’m saved.