by Tiana Laveen
“There was a job offer for a film—a children’s film. I applied for it months ago.” Tearing into the yellow envelope, she pulled out a tri-folded piece of paper. He watched as her eyes moved from line to line, but her expression remained the same.
“Well? What does it say?” She blinked a few times, then looked up at him.
“It says they’re interested in my auditioning and will send more information soon.” She placed it down on her vanity. Picking her brush up, she went back to brushing her hair. He watched her smile in her reflection in the mirror. Going to stand behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently massaged them.
“This is why you have to keep living … keep moving, Bailey. You’re too talented to let it all slip away.” She nodded, clearly too choked up to speak. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her into him and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You’ve got gigs lined up, right?”
“Yes.”
“And I expect you to do them. The ones you are able to pre-record from home, go ahead and do. I’ll take Bernie with me so he doesn’t interrupt. You’re going to finish everything you started, and we’re going to do this together … you and me.” She smiled wide and nodded as she wrapped her hands around his. “I love you, Bailey, we’re a team now. Please don’t ever forget that…”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sorry Is an Action Word…
The audio book gig could not have come at a better time. Bailey lay in her bed with her professional microphone and headphones, going over another chapter of, “The Longest Storm”, written by an up and coming suspense author with the last name of Wilkerson. Enjoying a short break, she sipped a bit of honey and lemon tea and let her mind wander. The house was fairly quiet. Chancellor had taken Bernie for a walk and then over to his house for a few hours. She’d taken her medication that morning to assist with the buzzing noise in her ear that came and went, followed by a bountiful breakfast of French toast, over-easy eggs, and hash browns, made by Chancellor. He was so good to her that she squealed inside, and could not thank him enough. He’d even done her grocery shopping for her before he headed to another anger management meeting, demanding that she get some much-needed rest for she was due in the studio again the following week.
For the first time in a long time, she was worried about her performance. Would she get dizzy again? Would she be deemed unreliable or a risk to a future hiring company? These doubts at times took her under. Taking another sip of the warm tea, she crossed her ankles and gazed out of the window, the curtains pulled back to reveal the early evening sky. With a smile, she picked the manuscript back up, turned on the microphone, and began…
‘The canoe shifted from left to right, and Kalu wasn’t certain any longer if he and Grandpa would make it. But just as the waters became rough, the sun burst from the clouds, illuminating the rising sea around them. Grandpa coughed and winced, his weathered skin like leather under the golden gaze of God. The billows spread and faded into the last whisper of the night, revealing the dawn of a new day…’
Bernie jammed his muzzle into a shallow, dark hole near a lamp post. It was pitch-black outside, with the exception of the rays from the lamp posts every fifty feet or so and the stars dancing in the sky. Chancellor tilted his head to the side as the light from above shined down upon them. The odor of warm dog piss seasoned the air. Bernie sniffed the ground, and growling noises soon ensued.
“There’s nothing there, Bernie. Let’s go.” With a gentle tug of the leash, the collie stumbled about, looking back every so often as if a delicious bone lay buried beneath the cold surface, just waiting for him to lock his jaws around it. They went slowly along the cul-de-sac, past some houses lit with the glow of a television or light above a kitchen sink. Others were pitch black, clues that the residents were either asleep or out for the evening. Bundled up in his thick coat, he looked up every so often at the sky, finding beauty he’d never seemed to notice before, no matter the cold.
“Bernie, what do you think of the stars?” he asked with a smile. “I wonder if dogs find it as wonderful to gaze at them as people do? Perhaps we’ll never know.” He exhaled. “Your mother likes to star gaze. Did you know that?” Bernie paused and sniffed around another depression in the dormant grass, this one much shallower. “Yup. She would sit on her front steps with her scarf and gloves on, holding cocoa, and just look up at the sky. She said it helped clear her mind.”
They continued on their jaunt, and he waved at a passing car, though he wasn’t certain who was driving.
“For all I know, that could have been someone riding about to burglarize someone’s home.” He chuckled. “Speaking of which, you make a lousy guard dog, Bernie.” At this, Bernie paused, a goofy expression on his face, which made Chancellor laugh even harder. “Let me get something off my chest. I lied to your mom once, Bernie. She told me I didn’t like dogs. I guess I wanted to impress her, not turn her off, so I told her that wasn’t true … but it is. Well.” He shrugged. “Let me take that back. It’s not that I don’t like dogs, I’m just not a pet person is all. See, I like things to be neat and tidy, and I’m into ascetics and well, you all have fur … and you eat too fast and get sick sometimes. And you shit and piss wherever you please—can’t leave that out.” He slowed down and drew in the air on a deep breath.
“Do you smell that? Smells like chili.” He looked at the house directly to his right and took note of the kitchen light on. He couldn’t see anyone, but he could imagine Jane, the lady of the house, dicing up onions, scallions, and tomatoes. Bernie gave a few dedicated barks, as if he, too, appreciated the nice aroma. “You know, my mother made good chili. She’d use quality ground chuck and one of her secret ingredients was honey. Can you believe it? Honey … you didn’t see it, didn’t smell it, but it gave just the right umph to bring everything together. It worked under the radar, made it all better. I think your mom is like that, Bernie. She’s the honey of the world, or of my world, at least.
“She’s not pushy; she’s not overwhelming like salt or cayenne pepper. Nope, she’s simmering in the back, bringing it all together. And she’s got these wonderful talents, some of which are hidden, like her soup recipes. And her bracelet making. She can toss her voice—sound like a little old lady from New York who smokes three packs of cigarettes a day one moment, and an Asian teenager with a stutter and outlandish lisp in another. I have listened to this woman read scripts for practice, and I cannot believe the different voices that pour out of her mouth. It’s creepy … it’s cool. I like it.”
They moved further down the road, and the noise of what sounded like an old music box could be heard. He wasn’t certain from what house it was coming from. Maybe someone was watching television and it was part of the recording, but it made him stop cold in his tracks.
“Listen. That sounds like a music box my mother used to have. I don’t know where she got it from, but she eventually gave it to my sister. It was pink and white, with chipped paint on one side. When you opened it, instead of a ballerina, there was a little yellow chicken.” His face split in a grin at the memory. “The chicken had on a tutu made of magenta tulle, I believe, and round and around it would go to this little ditty, similar to the one I can hear right now. That music box I had all but forgotten. I guess I found it so amusing as a kid because, well, you expected one thing, but then, when you looked inside, there was something else altogether. I found that interesting because it was such a foreign concept to me, I suppose. A chicken dancing to beautiful music … in a lovely, well-crafted box. Whimsy.
“My mother said I was always mature for my age. Obviously, I was a baby at one point, a child, but you know what, Bernie? I don’t remember laughing a lot. I remember good times, don’t get me wrong … and I wasn’t an unhappy kid, but I don’t remember doing some of the things I’ve heard others talk about. Like egging peoples’ houses, or jumping in a grocery cart and flying downhill, praying you survived once you ricocheted into a fence. My friends and I did stuff, but even in thos
e silly situations I don’t really remember laughing a lot … like to the point where you get all red in the face and choke, where memories stick to you like glue, the stuff you can’t shake off even if you wanted to.
“See, your mother is a mixture of whimsy and class. She can live; she can breathe.” He looked at Bernie and saw wisps of air spiraling from his perfectly circular black nostrils. Chancellor opened his mouth and ringlets of his breath swirled up in the air, then disappeared. “She can breathe,” he repeated. “She can live…she’s living. She appreciates life so much, the threat of it not being as fulfilling, due to her illness, made her panic. I think now I understand.” He sighed as he fell into someone’s front yard, resting on his ass, legs wide as he loosely hung on to the leash. Bernie sat before him, still breathing, still staring at him.
“To me, life is just like a tunnel, I guess you could say. It’s hard for me to be surprised or afraid of anything that jumps out because I kinda expect the worst.” He laughed sadly. Bernie nestled beside him. The dog’s body heat was a comfort against his hip. “But see, Bailey is optimistic, so when something threatens her ability to continue on a path—well, she reacts to that. She becomes passionate to the point of temporary delirium. I’m so silly … so very silly.” He chastised himself as he shook his head and briefly closed his eyes. “I get it now, Bernie. I get it.” Getting to his feet, he wiped his coat down from any clinging debris and they continued on their way.
“I’m not afraid of what’s to come, if anything, you know, regarding Bailey. So, Bernie, if she’ll just let me be someone she can depend on, I’d like to be that. She’s doing a good job thus far, dare I say she is enjoying me now waiting on her hand and foot. But I know she won’t tolerate it for long. It’ll outstay it’s welcome. When that time comes I am certain she’ll tell me so. I’m … so in love with her.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to banish a headache. Tears welled in his eyes. Something had turned on within him, a new realization; a new key inside Bailey’s world had been presented and he let himself inside. “How could I have been so wrong? She’s not afraid of the illness. She’s afraid of turning into someone else, someone who doesn’t love freely, who worries about garnering respect above all and is coldhearted to keep from feeling all the warm, horrible pain they’ve got trapped within. Yeah, she’s definitely afraid of turning into someone else, Bernie… a person like me…” He sniffed, then turned back in the direction from where they’d come. “Come on, Bernie. Let’s go back home…”
…One week later
Chancellor felt as if he’d been ripped out of a dream, one much like a snow globe, and thrust into a harsh, chemical smelling reality. Bailey had insisted that he wear a nice navy-blue suit, the one he rarely wore, paired with a light blue paisley tie. He had a fresh haircut, and he’d reluctantly submitted to a facial she’d given him with one of her many canisters of creamy concoctions from some high priced natural soap store. He did admit, however, that his damn face was now smooth as a newborn baby’s ass.
As he walked into his building, he gave his customary greetings, and though people seemed to be happy to see him, he couldn’t help but wrestle with a bit of paranoia. He now sat in his office with the door closed. The space looked sterile and smelled stuffy. A part of him hated being there. The transition was simply too much. Bright, fluorescent lights, the sounds of copy machines, percolating coffee makers, bubbling water coolers, and the click of fingers across keyboards had become his norm, but now they sounded like a foreign soundtrack to some past life.
A mountain of paperwork waited for him to go through it, despite the fact others had carried some of the load during his absence. He had so many emails, he figured he’d be done reading half of them by next Christmas. On a sigh, he began to reacquaint himself with all that he’d missed, and then his phone rang.
“Hello, Chancellor Hartmann speaking.”
“Oh my … you sound so damn sexy when you answer the phone that way.” He erupted in chuckles at the airy, over-the-top Marilyn Monroe type voice that greeted him.
“It’s my angel… Hello, Bailey. How are you?”
“Angel, huh?”
“Of course, you’re a godsend.”
She was quiet on the other end for a moment or two.
“Well, I’m doing great, actually. I just finished up that commercial at the studio and I’m off for the next couple of days so I’m going to clean up around here. How is it going? I know you just got in, but you were a bit worried, too.”
“It’s going fine, to be honest. I’ve called an afternoon meeting. Have you taken your medicine?”
“Yessss, Chancellor…” she slurred, clearly tired of his nagging.
He smiled into the phone.
“Good. Well, I’ll be checking in with you later and—”
“You mean checking on me.”
“Noooo, of course not!” he lied.
“I’m not helpless, you know. I can do the same things I was doing before. Let me lose my will to live before you make me get a Life Alert necklace, please!” She laughed, though he knew a part of her was far from amused from his incessant babysitting.
“All right… but I need time to adjust, too. Just let me do this, please. I know you don’t need to be monitored, but for my own peace of mind, just humor me. Fair enough, you’ve got this under control, but I can’t help myself. I’m your burden to bear.”
“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that, and then I am going to block your number so I can get some rest,” she teased.
“I know in my heart you’ll be fine, Bailey—better than fine. But I love you, and I can’t help it.” He disconnected the call before she could respond and got to his feet. Buttoning his jacket, he grabbed his laptop and headed to the first meeting of the day. But it was hard to get her hugs and kisses off his mind…
‘There are fewer than 20,000 cases per year of Meniere’s Disease in the United States. That officially marks it as rare.’ Bailey flipped through the latest brochure she’d snagged after her doctor’s appointment. Legs crossed, she sat inside the Starbucks trying to picture herself with a hearing aid. The latest ones on the market were so much more advanced than the one her grandmother had had. They appeared barely detectable. She was happy that today, she had no ringing in her ear whatsoever. She also didn’t feel dizzy, and no vertigo so her nausea pill wasn’t needed. In fact, she felt like her old self.
“It sucks that I have to watch how much chocolate and salt I eat now, though,” she mumbled as she kept reading, familiarizing herself with the facts of the situation. Salt and caffeine worsened the symptoms, so it was just a matter of paying attention to her intake. She could manage that. Just then, her phone buzzed. She burst out laughing as she looked at the meme text from Chancellor. It pictured a dog that looked similar to Bernie, saying, ‘I lost my hearing, but I can now smell another dog’s ass a mile away!’
She responded with a simple red heart, placed her phone back in her purse, and grabbed her keys. It was time to head home and work on her next gig—a self-help audio book. And she was in the mood to boost some spirits…
Chancellor turned off his phone after sending his sweetheart a little pick me up. The conference room was filled to the brim with employees, standing room only.
“I want to thank all of you for coming to the meeting today. I also want to thank everyone who signed the ‘welcome back’ card, especially those of you that truly meant it.” This was met with a few laughs. He smiled at that, not the least bit surprised. “I am not going to stand here and pretend that my three months away worked like some miracle drug, but it did help me get things into perspective. My first order of business is apologizing to each and every one of you that I in some way upset or said anything to that was off-putting and harmful. Despite my delivery, it was never my intention to hurt anyone, though it is more than obvious that I did. When I was gone initially, I had a great deal of anger over the situation—not directed at the correct people.
“No
, the person to blame was myself. I have tried so very hard to make this company a success, I seemed to have forgotten that a company is successful because of the people, the team, and not one single person on their own. I have apologized to some of you earlier today personally, and this is like a group apology for anyone that I missed, because despite what I may have thought or said at any given time, this place is where it’s at because of all of you, not just me or a few key people I considered to be worker-bees. I’ve always felt, because I’m an honest person, that this made whatever I did and said okay. Well, it doesn’t. Honesty doesn’t mean that you’re right, or that something has to be shared. I’ve learned the hard way to keep some things to myself, and share more of the stuff that makes a person a true human being. I now ask myself why I think the way I do in the first place.
“I’m not a kid anymore, but I’m still young enough to learn a new thing or two. I’m stubborn, hardworking, and driven, but there has to be room for fun, joy and good times, too.” Just then, several people dressed in white entered the room carrying large trays filled with sandwiches, cupcakes, and various salads and soups. “For this entire week, we’re having lunch catered. It’s on me.” A round of applause and whistling ensued. “It’s not a kiss-up move for my bad behavior. This is because you all deserve it, simple as that. As a leader of this company, I need to behave as such. I seemed to only be concerned with the bottom line and discipline. That wasn’t true, but if you were going by my actions alone, it sure looked like it.
“It appeared as if I’d forgotten that happy employees work harder, naturally. With that in mind, on Friday, please clear your schedules for an hour-long meeting regarding employee incentives. I still need to see improvements in customer service, I am adamant about that, but I have decided to go about it a different way. I want to hear from you … each of you, in regard to your frustrations, what can be done from management and your team to help, and what would make you more excited to drive into work and get on those phones.
