Holiday Spice & Everything Nice

by Conn, Claudy

  The press was everywhere, running with cameras and there was mass confusion. I finally saw the ambulance. This must be for Tony. I looked again to the guy next to me, who was peering over the crowd to survey what was going on. He told us that Tony would be taken to Halifax Medical Center and said RaeLynn would most likely accompany him. The techs and paramedics had to cut Tony from the burning car. The eerie scene from the fire engines, void of sirens, gave me chills. Sure enough, just like the guy said, Tony was loaded into the ambulance with RaeLynn by his side. Holly and I just stood there, horrified and helpless.

  I’d never, in my life, witnessed anything as horrific as that, and I had no idea what to do. Holly and I hugged and made our way through the thick crowd. “I need to get to the hospital.”

  I remember the haunting text from RaeLynn, “Going to Halifax Medical Center. Ask for security. They’ll get you here. Start prayers. This isn’t good.”

  We pushed past the gawking fans and made it to a waiting car. In no time, we were at the hospital, where I learned all too soon that Tony would most likely be paralyzed for life. He was in the hospital for over a month, and my job was to take the stress off RaeLynn and Tony’s families by handling things with the media and maintain an everything-is-okay facade. During that time, I lost a few clients, but Tony was my main concern. Dave and I, of course, drifted further and further apart.

  Over the course of the next few months, I’d become a relationship advisor to Tony and RaeLynn, which was emotionally draining, to say the least. Tony had convinced himself that since he was paralyzed and his career was over, RaeLynn needed to move on. He was angry, rebellious, and acting like a goddamn man. It was all I could do to not backhand him, as he constantly tried to push RaeLynn out of his life with hurtful words and even went so far as refusing to allow her visits. He tried throwing that pity party bullshit on me, but I’d have no part of it.

  The more he treated RaeLynn like shit, the more determined she became to stick with him. It was during that time that she solicited my help. I came clean that I was no expert in relationships—my own marriage was failing, and I had no words of wisdom. I went off on both of them, just before I headed back to Houston. “You two make me so damn angry. I just wish you knew how lucky you are. You look to me for advice, and I have a dead-end marriage that is hanging on by a thread—a fucking thread. Do you know what that’s like? You asking me for marriage advice is like asking a priest for sex advice. You guys adore each other and so what? Tony has an obstacle—but your love—it will endure. Come on guys, snap out of it!”

  I guess they took my words to heart, because on the anniversary of the accident, four years later, Tony proposed and RaeLynn accepted. They sent me a video, and I was in tears.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning, I decide to sleep in. Dave must have left extra early, because when I go into the bedroom, the shower door is open, and the wall is still wet. His jacket hanger is laying on the vanity, and as I walk through the house, calling his name, looking outside, I notice his car in the garage. I text him, and he texts back, “Anna came to pick me up. The Saxon Chemical case is set for trial, and I’ve got to get some things done at the office. Are you still going to Cali?”

  I decide that conciliatory and contrite will be my frame of mind du jour. I swallow my pride, take the high road, and decide to grab Dave’s favorite Reuben on Rye sandwich with extra pickles, salty vinegar chips and sweet iced tea, pick up his dry cleaning, and pay him a surprise visit at lunch.

  When I arrive at his office, his trusty secretary, Anna, who is always at her desk, is nowhere to be found, so I check my makeup and hair in the mirror over her desk. Pleased with how I look, I check my watch. It’s one o’clock. Surely she’s just down the hall, in the restroom, or something. When she doesn’t return after precisely three minutes, I’m convinced that she must have taken a late lunch today, which is highly unusual for her. She’s one of the most regimented women I know, but there must have been a good reason.

  I stand outside Dave’s office and hear his voice as I crack the door. I walk in smiling, looking around to see if he’s on the phone. I crinkle the bag to my chest, calling out, “Dave?” I turn my head towards the voices in the sitting area of his large office. The sandwich and iced tea fall from my hands onto the floor as I observe the set of naked bodies clambering for cover.

  Defensively, Dave screams at me, “Noel! For God’s sake, what the hell are you doing here?”

  The girl gets up, covering herself with a large, overstuffed pillow from the couch, and Dave steps in front of her. “Jenna and I were just …”

  Trying to downplay my shock and act unaffected, I run my fingers through my hair, shaking my head and blurting out sarcastically, “Dear God, Dave. Are you serious?” Same auld lang syne, different day. Shaking my head in disgust, I pick up the sandwich and Styrofoam cup, and toss them in the trash. Jenna is markedly embarrassed, covering herself, while frantically gathering her clothes, trying to get dressed. She looks like she’s ready to bolt when Dave holds his arm out, commanding her, “No, Jenna. Stay.”

  I chortle, which escalates to full blown laughter. I’m heaving so hard I have to hold my sides. Dave’s face is red with anger, clenching his jaw.

  I breathe out, “Phew. Sorry Dave. I just … I’ve never seen someone supposedly dying with cancer, fucking.” I shake my head.

  Dave pounds his fist on the desk, glaring at me with the veins in his neck bulging. “Are you quite finished, Noel?” His words slice like a razor, but I refuse to let him have the last word.

  “Not really,” I remark, plumping and arranging the pillows, which have fallen to the floor during their fuck fest. I run my finger nonchalantly down the back of the leather couch, walking towards him. “You had a hard time keeping your dick in your pants when we were married. Guess the cancer didn’t make you lose that.” I stare at him with a snarky grin.

  They both watch me with caution as I point my finger at my temple. “What I’d really like to know is why your fuck buddy wasn’t around to take care of you over these past few months. I mean, why wasn’t she there to clean up your vomit and your bedclothes when you shit yourself Dave? Why?”

  Jenna looks at me, horrified, and we have a hormonal stare down. Tilting my head to taunt her, I smile, sarcastically. “What? What are you looking at? I don’t recall you being at the hospital or coming to take care of him. So are you with him or what?”

  Dave walks over with his arm extended to stop me, and I raise my hand, defensively. “Don’t even think about it, asswipe. Fuck you.”

  I walk out of the office, slamming the door behind me. Anna is just walking back in and smiles when she sees me. “Noel! What a nice surprise. Does Dave know you’re here?”

  Holding my composure, I quickly walk past her. “I saw him. Yes, thanks. Gotta run. Good to see you!” I blow her a kiss, wave, and exit while hoping no one sees the tears now streaming down my face. I find the nearest elevator and pound the down arrow repeatedly, as though that will make it come any faster. Thank God I have my sunglasses, which shield me from the rest of the world.

  Dave runs out to the elevator. “Noel, wait … Look, we’re divorced. It’s not cheating.”

  Just as I get in and the door starts to close, I flip him off. “You’re absolutely right, Dave. We are divorced, and it’s not cheating, but I’m so over this. She can take care of you from now on. I’m outta here.”

  Once in my car, I scream and bang the steering wheel, bursting a blood vessel on the side of my hand. It throbs with pain. I shake my hand as if that will make the pain go away. I now have a blue hand, swollen and hurting like hell. My phone starts ringing, and the caller ID says it’s Holly. I hit end and toss it into my purse on the seat, but she calls back, so I answer with the hands free.

  “This better be important. What’s up?” I ask, curtly.

  “What do you mean, what’s up? What’s crawled up your ass? And hello to you too, sis. I was calling to let you know that I could
send a crew over tomorrow to put up a tree for you. Dave told me last week that you hadn’t done a Christmas tree. Why don’t you just let us do it? I know you’re busy.” The tone of her voice is upbeat, which is typical Holly. Whoreticultural Holly, as I call her. My sister, the plant lady extraordinaire and proud owner of the blossoming and trendy, full-service plant store, rightfully named, Holly’s Horticulture.

  “Pfft. Right now, a Christmas tree is the furthest thing from my mind, Holly. I’m not even going to be here for Christmas, it looks like.”

  Her normal, monotone, slightly raspy voice now turns shrill and confused. “What you mean you’re not going to be here for Christmas? That makes no sense, Noel. What the hell?”

  I tell her about having to go to the Silicon Valley, in California, in the next few days, and I guess she can detect something is wrong.

  “Noel, I’m your sister. Hon, what’s going on? You sound upset.”

  I exhale in exasperation. “I’m tired, Holly. Tired of taking care of Dave. Tired of being taken advantage of. Tired of … everything. Something’s gotta give.”

  “Swing by the shop and pick me up. Let’s grab some coffee.”

  I laugh through my misery. “Coffee isn’t what I need right now, Holl. Let’s go to Sambuca, and you can buy me a drink—or two, or three. Right now, I need to get trashed and drown in my misery and anger. I haven’t decided which I’m feeling more of.”

  When I hang up with Holly, I call Tony, and he answers on the first ring. “Hey, it’s my favorite PR lady. Did you change your mind?” he asks, excitedly.

  I manage to muster a slight smile and shake my head in a yes motion, as though he can actually see me. “I’m down, and I can stay however long I’m needed. I just need to know when and where.”

  His voice is warm, welcoming, and lifts my mood. “Awesome! I’ll get your tickets and room. Can you leave tomorrow? So, what made you change your mind?”

  Not wanting to go into the clusterfuck that is my life, I tell a little white lie. “Whoa! So many questions. To be honest, you had me at sweet cheeks, Tony. You have that special gift.” I smile just thinking of him.

  “You sound like something’s wrong. You okay?” he asks with concern.

  There is a brief silence as I clear my throat. “I’m fine. Just overwhelmed, I guess. I’ll see you soon.”

  During the time we were both peons in our individual fields, I learned a lot about Tony Tolbert. He has a sixth sense about people, and he’s one of the most stand up guys I’ve ever met. He’s the brother I never had.

  When he first started in his career, he meticulously assembled a first class team that went all the way to the top with him. His motto was, “Surround yourself with good, smart people and you will succeed.”

  That he did until that fateful day at Daytona. Those people still work for him, and he has never let them down. Even after his accident, he found things for them to do. He’s done phenomenal charity work, and his empire continues to flourish.

  Chapter 6

  After a few drinks with Holly, I head home to pack, hoping Dave isn’t there. As I turn into the driveway, I’m not surprised that the lights still haven’t been fixed. I walk into the dark house and flip on the switch, illuminating the kitchen, relieved that Dave isn’t home, so I can pack for California and not have to make small talk and listen to his bullshit. Holly has told me, time after time, that I was a fool for staying at the house taking care of Dave after the divorce. She said I was letting myself be his doormat, and as much as I hate to say so, she was not only right, she was spot on.

  Needing to print my ticket and boarding pass, I grab the key and go upstairs to Dave’s office. The screen of his laptop is brightly illuminated with a law library screen saver, which piques my curiosity. I hear a chime and look at the screen. There is an incoming email. I jiggle the mouse over the pad and the email screen pops up. The subject line reads, “Your Appointment With Dr. Pearce”.

  Dr. Pearce is Steven Pearce, Dave’s oncologist. I open the email, and I can hear my heart beating out of my chest. My blood pressure is bound to be off the charts as I tell myself to stop reading, but I can’t. It seems Dave is in remission and hasn’t seen fit to tell me. I search the numerous emails for others from Dr. Pearce to see how far back this has gone. The very first email, with the subject line, “No More Cancer Found” is over a month old. Unable to catch my breath, I feel like the blood has just drained from my head. I’m angry, and I’m hurt. Shaking my head, I pound my fist on the desk. Once again, Dave has made a fool out of me.

  I hear the back door open, and then slam shut, so I close the laptop and sit at the desk, staring at the wall in front of me. My first inclination is to run from the room and lock the door, but I want Dave to know he’s been caught lying—or withholding the truth, whichever.

  “Noel? Are you home?” The sound of his voice startles me as I hear his keys hit the granite counter in the kitchen, an all too familiar sound. His voice sounds as if nothing is wrong. The bastard. I hate him. No, take that back. I despise him.

  He calls to me, “You up there, Noel?”

  Wringing my hands in trepidation, dreading what’s about to take place, I yell out, “I’m in your office, printing my boarding pass.”

  The sound of him coming up the stairs makes my heart beat with each sound of his shoes on the wooden stairway. Click, Click, Click, Click.

  He walks into his office, looks at the computer, and I lift the screen, rolling back in the chair so he can see what I was reading.

  “So, you’re reading my emails now, Noel?” he asks, surprised and looking at me like I’m invading his space.

  “Are you in remission, Dave? Because from what I’ve been reading, you have been for—like a month?”

  Sitting on the edge of his desk, loosening his tie, he moves his head from side to side, cracking his neck. With closed eyes, he whispers, “Noel, look ...”

  I’m angered as I get up from the large, leather executive chair. He puts his hand on my shoulder, and I jerk back from him. “No, Dave. Don’t touch me. I’m going to get my clothes packed for this trip, and I’ll have Holly come to get the rest of my things in a week or so.”

  I brush past him, and he grabs my arm. I grit my teeth. “Remove your hand from me, now.”

  #

  I laugh at what a debacle this has been. Dave’s laptop has been my best friend and my worst enemy. Forwarding all of the cheating emails to myself before the divorce gave me leverage, and finding the email about Dave’s remission, I suppose, gave me that last little push to my freedom.

  On the plane, I get out my Kindle and decide to lose myself in the fantasy of romance. Romance—what the hell is that? From the corner of my eye, I notice the couple sitting across the aisle from me. I’m guessing, from the gushing, happy looks on their faces, that they’re newlyweds. The handsome guy is caressing her hand, and she’s looking into his eyes while scrunching his hair with the fingers of her right hand. He whispers something in her ear, and she playfully slaps his leg. In my mind, I’m imagining that he said, “I don’t know why you fixed it, it’s just gonna get messed up once we get to the hotel.”

  Once I arrive in San Jose International Airport, I grab my luggage and check my phone. There are lots of missed calls and texts. I scurry to the rental car area, and pick up the Ford Mustang convertible I’ve splurged for. It’s shiny red, and I justify the cost by telling myself that I deserve it. I call Tony to let him know I’ve safely arrived, followed by a text to Holly, when my phone rings, and I see it’s Anna. “Noel, hon, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, why?” I try to hide the hurt in my voice, yet I’m curious about why she called.

  She breathes into the phone, and I can sense hesitation in her voice. “Look, I don’t mean to pry, but … I heard some talk in the break room about Dave and Jenna.” There is dead silence after her remark, and when I don’t respond, she asks, apprehensively, “Is it true? It’s not, is it?”

  I hesitate before an
swering, and I clear my throat. “That depends on what you heard. If it was that your boss is pretending to still have cancer and was caught screwing his paralegal by his ex-wife, then you heard right, Anna.”

  She gasps into the phone, “What? Holy crap, Noel. I had no idea, I swear. Wait … His cancer?”

  I laugh into the phone. “Yup. Remission. He’s cured and has been for over a month. Crazy, huh? Bet he didn’t tell anyone at the office. Look, I just landed in California. I’ve gotta run, hon. We’ll talk when I get back. Don’t let this bother you. We’re divorced, remember?” Before I hang up, I giggle. “And Anna?”

  “Yes?”

  “Tell Dave you want a big ass bonus check this year.”

  Anna has been Dave’s secretary for eleven of the fifteen years he’s been practicing law, so she pretty much knows him like the back of her hand. She’s one of the most thorough and organized women I know, next to my sister Holly. She’s very outspoken, so I’d venture to guess she’s already given him an ear full.

  The GPS takes me right to the Hotel Los Gatos, a beautiful, Mediterranean-style hotel, nestled in the redwoods of the Silicon Valley. This place is breathtaking and decorated so beautifully for the holidays. I valet the car, and as I step into the festively decorated lobby, there is such a welcoming feeling that I get just a bit of the holiday spirit. It may be melancholy, but I do get a little of the Christmas feeling.

  Chapter 7

  My room has a spectacular view, and as I survey the grounds, I honestly think I could live in this area. I’ve got the rest of the day and evening to myself, so I unpack, change into an oversized sweater and leggings, and then go out onto the terrace with a nice glass of wine. It’s a brisk, fifty-ish-degree day, but the sun is shining brightly. The concierge told me that the restaurant in the hotel, Dio Deka, is one of the finest in the area. Greek cuisine is the specialty, which I love, so I’ve decided to stay on the property tonight. I’ll venture out into town tomorrow and see what this PR gig is that’s so important that I had to come to California.