Channel 20 Something

by Amy Patrick

  I’d expected the two of us to grab a couple of barbeque sandwiches at Handy Andy, or maybe go to a cute little joint like the Ajax Diner. But Hale had somehow gotten us reservations at one of Oxford’s nicest places. Not that I was complaining. I sipped my Chardonnay and looked up from my menu to take in the restaurant’s exposed brick walls and colorful local art, a mix of historic and chic combining to create a perfect date-night ambience.

  But this wasn’t a date. As Hale continued to fiddle with his silverware and sneak glances at me over his own menu, I began to wonder whether he realized that. The waiter came back with our appetizer, crab and bacon fritters, and took our dinner orders. I’d decided on the olive-oil seared salmon and Hale went with the Grocery’s famous shrimp and grits.

  I kept waiting for him to bring up the topic that was our reason for being here. He was the one who’d suggested getting together, and honestly, I had no idea how to begin a talk like this. But Hale kept the conversation light, filling me in on the latest challenges he faced with his family’s farming business, something he’d always been passionate about. After his older brother had opted out of the Gentry family birthright and moved as far away as he could get, Hale had taken up the gauntlet with impressive dedication.

  By the time we finished our entrees it seemed like all non-breakup-related conversation had been exhausted, and I was actually sneaking glances at my watch. It was getting late. Aric might be driving past my apartment, checking on me and wondering where I was. Wondering why I was spending so long with my ex-boyfriend.

  “Let’s order dessert.” Hale’s eyes held a mischievous sparkle that surprised me. He’d always been more of an apps man than a dessert fan.

  “I really shouldn’t. My meal was huge, and I should be getting back home. It’s an hour drive to Pineland from here, and then you’ll still have an hour to go to Louisville.”

  “Come on. It won’t take that long. We can share one. Just look at the menu,” he cajoled.

  As if on cue, our waiter returned with two dessert menus and shoved one into my hand. Still shaking my head in protest, I took the menu from him and opened it. There were three options listed with photos beside them. Southern Pecan Cheesecake, Chocolate Lava cake with vanilla bean sorbet, and—the last item description had been covered over with a folded slip of paper. And the photo beside it was not of a dessert but a beautiful, and very large, diamond solitaire ring. My stomach dropped. What was this? I reached for the folded paper with trembling fingers and opened it. Inside, written in Hale’s distinctive handwriting, were four words and a question mark.

  Will you marry me?

  My heartbeat jumped from digesting-a-rich-meal comatose into horror-movie-running-for-my-life pounding. I blinked several times, fighting through a whirling sense of panic to make sense of what my orbital nerve was trying to tell my brain. Whatever the elusive message was, it wasn’t good.

  “See anything you like?” Hale asked.

  I looked up at him, feeling as if my eyes were bulging from my head. He wore an eager smile and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

  “I…” No other words came out, only a wheezing, choking noise. Oh God. This wasn’t happening.

  Hale left his chair and went down on one knee in front of mine. I couldn’t breathe. A sumo wrestler sat on my chest. No—no one on my chest—it was—no, no, no. Why was he down there on the floor? Get up Hale. We’re breaking up, making it official, you can’t be proposing.

  The scene had grabbed the attention of the restaurant’s other patrons, who were turning toward us like dominos falling, grins breaking out on their faces one by one.

  “Hale—” I breathed, barely finishing the word, as my brain had been deprived of actual oxygen for too long at this point.

  Hale lifted one of my ice cold hands from my lap and gave me a tremulous smile. “Heidi—I love you, I have for a long time, and I’m hoping that you found at least one of those dessert options tempting. I hope you’ll find the real thing even sweeter.”

  As I sat in stupefied silence, Hale drew a small box from his pocket, opened it, and held it up before me.

  In my peripheral vision, I saw our waiter recording the moment on a cell phone camera, preserving it for our later enjoyment. And for Facebook. And Twitter. And You Tube. And all the hundreds of other available venues for online humiliation made possible by the wonders of modern technology. Oh, sugar. There was no getting out of this gracefully, for me or for Hale.

  He pressed the ring box into my hand. I looked down at it, occasion-appropriate tears filling my eyes. He and everyone else would assume they were tears of happiness, but they were inspired more by a sense of guilt (over failing to adequately communicate our relationship status to Hale) and desperation (to escape this nightmare scenario). At least they gave me an excuse not to answer him out loud in front of all these witnesses.

  “Well, put it on,” Hale encouraged with an eager grin. It seemed like every eye in the room was on my left ring finger. No one seemed to have noticed I hadn’t actually uttered a word of either acceptance or refusal. And why would she refuse, they were all thinking, with such a romantic proposal? Such a handsome, devoted man? A man who would be publicly disgraced if I refused him here and now.

  I slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly. How like Hale to figure out my ring size when I’d never told it to him. As soon as the ring was over my second knuckle, Hale stood and pulled me up with him, planting an enthusiastic kiss on my lips. The crowd around us cheered and clapped. A loud pop sounded near us, and I pulled away from Hale to see a waiter holding up a bottle of champagne. Yay.

  A woman seated at the nearest table snapped a picture of our embrace with her phone then said loudly, “Hey—you’re Heidi Haynes from the news.”

  Before I could respond, Hale did. “Soon to be Heidi Haynes Gentry—isn’t that right, hon?” He placed a fizzing champagne flute in my hand and clinked his own glass against it. “To the most beautiful girl in Mississippi and my future wife.”

  Another cheer from the onlookers. I smiled weakly back at him, glancing around at the celebratory crowd as I took an obligatory sip. After a minute the other diners went back to their own tables, and I grabbed Hale’s hand.

  “Let’s go, okay?”

  He grinned his agreement, looking absolutely thrilled. “Great.”

  I lifted my coat from my chair back, shivering already, and Hale helped me put it on like the gentleman he was. I’d had only one glass of wine and a sip of champagne, but I nearly staggered down the sidewalk to where Hale had parked his car, dazed by my own idiocy. How could things have gotten so out of hand? How could Hale have misunderstood so drastically? How could I have let him?

  The weight of what I had to do next was bone-crushing. As soon as we were away from other eyes, I’d have to straighten this out and hope it wasn’t already too late. Our happy table-neighbor might already be posting or Tweeting the photo she’d taken of us. I could see it now.

  Fun surprise at dinner tonight. News anchor Heidi Haynes got engaged! #happycouple

  Hale opened the door for me and walked around to the trunk to put in the corked champagne bottle. When he joined me in the car, he had his own phone out. Oh no. I hoped he wasn’t calling his family to give them the happy news.

  I put my hand on his arm. “What are you doing?”

  “Sending the video to your station. I called your boss before I picked you up and told her I was going to pop the question. I offered to record it if she wanted it for the news. She seemed really excited.” He looked at his wristwatch. “I hope it gets there on time. Dinner took longer than I expected. The newscast’s already started—oh man—it’s ten-fifteen. It’s half over, isn’t it?”

  “Did you… you sent the video to the station? To put on the news?” My heart seized.

  “Yeah? Why? Are you upset? Is it too personal?”

  I grabbed my own phone and dialed the newsroom number, even though I knew no one would answer now that the news was on. It ran
g and went to the station’s recorded message. Of course. I hung up and tried Janet’s office number, but of course, she was on the set, doing the news. Sugar. Sugar, sugar, sugar! I hadn’t even had a chance to talk to Hale about his surprise proposal yet—more specifically how I couldn’t actually accept it—and it was about to be seen by all of WPLM’s viewers. And possibly by Aric.

  I turned off my phone and dropped it into my lap. I’d let too many things get in the way of full communication with Hale, and it had led to this disaster. But oh God, how to tell him? My hands covered my face as I tried very hard not to hyperventilate. I could only hope the station hadn’t gotten the video in time to put it in the kicker slot at the end of the newscast.

  “Heidi? You okay, sweetheart?”

  I shook my head, tears already squeezing out through my fingers. Hale’s warm hand settled on my back. Instead of comforting me it only made me feel worse.

  “What’s the matter? Little overwhelmed? It’s okay—we can take it slow—we’ll have a long engagement,” Hale offered, sounding worried.

  I had to stop blubbering and start talking. “No. No Hale, it’s not okay.” I looked over at his lovely face, lit by the streetlamps and the glow from the restaurants on the Square. “I really didn’t expect that tonight.”

  He gave me a sympathetic grin. “That’s why they call it a surprise. I hoped you’d like it. I know I’ve never been all that great at the romance thing, but I’m trying to get better. I actually read about this one in a magazine, and—” His grin dropped. “You didn’t like it?”

  “It’s just that it was really, really a surprise, because I thought we were coming here to get closure. Because we’d broken up. And we were going to… you know…” Oh God. His face. I hated myself. “We were going to part as friends.”

  “Friends,” he echoed in a flat tone.

  “Hale… we’ve been apart for months now. We haven’t even discussed marriage—for months. Why did you think we should get engaged now?”

  “Well… because I thought the issue was that you wanted to keep your career and you didn’t think you could do that and still be with me because of my job. And I finally got it—I was treating your job like it was a hobby or something that you were going to get over instead of realizing it was a part of you. When I really understood that, I came up with a solution. I was planning to take you from here to see a house I found for us in Starkville. It’s halfway between Pineland and Louisville—halfway between your job and my family’s land. I realized I don’t really have to live on the farm, so long as I’m fairly close. I thought it was a good plan, so, you know, we could both do what we love and still be with the person we… love.” His eyes took on a stricken expression. He shook his head slowly side to side. “You don’t love me, do you?”

  I nodded. “I do. But not in the way I should. Do you love me, Hale? Really? Let me ask you something—how have you been coping these past four months while we haven’t been together?”

  “I’ve been better, but I was doing okay, I guess.”

  “Right. So have I. And that’s what worries me. I think if you’re meant to be with someone, if it’s real till-death-do-you-part love, you wouldn’t be doing okay when you’re parted. I think just the idea of not spending the rest of your life with them should tear you apart, make you sick, like you can’t imagine it being any other way. Can you honestly tell me that’s how it is for you?”

  “Well, I do miss you. You’re beautiful and fun and smart. And I liked what we had. We got along really great, we never fought. Things were good. I don’t necessarily think there’s more to it than that. I’m not sure what else a person could want. It’s what I want.”

  I started to speak, but Hale held up a hand and stopped me. “Listen, will you do me this one favor? For all the time we’ve spent together and all we’ve been through? Think about it. For one night. Consider it and all we have—all we could have. Then you can give me your answer tomorrow.”

  The look on his face was unbearable. How was I supposed to tell him he wasn’t worth even one night’s consideration? People say it’s less painful to just rip the bandage off, but how many of those people have had to rip someone else’s heart open in the process?

  “Sure. Okay, of course I’ll think about it.”

  We held hands as we drove home in uncomfortable silence, the beautiful ring glittering in the light of every streetlamp we passed. Hale walked me to the door of my apartment, where he lifted my hand and kissed the knuckles before turning to go with a quiet “good night.”

  He turned back. “I really hope… well, you know what I want. See you tomorrow.”

  I nodded and let myself in, planning to head straight for the open bottle of wine in my refrigerator. It was indescribably good to be back in my cramped little apartment, my refuge. This night could not have gone any worse. But it was about to.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Strange Bedfellows

  I poured myself a generous glass of wine and got into bed fully clothed, gathering my pillows and comforter around me like a fortress and wishing I had a dog. Someone who’d be happy to see me and love me in spite of the fact that I was, in fact, a heartless be-yotch.

  I turned on my phone and saw I’d missed a call from Mara. Several in fact. As well as one from Janet, who was no doubt returning my frantic call from earlier tonight. Well, it was too late now. The video had either aired or it hadn’t. I’d talk to her tomorrow and explain everything.

  First things first. In terms of huge messes, unraveling the one with Aric took priority. It was so late—he was probably upset with me over that, even if the incriminating video hadn’t made it on air. My call to him went right to voicemail. Not a good sign.

  Okay, next. I pressed the button to return Mara’s call. She would answer, and she’d certainly have some expert advice on how to break a guy’s heart carefully and on navigating the guilt-wake left behind.

  She answered immediately. “Oh. My. God. What the hell is going on with you? You got engaged? To Hale?”

  Well. That answered the question of whether the video had aired. Sugar. This was bad.

  “No. I mean, yes, but not really. I mean, I never actually—it’s a long story.” The realization slammed into me. “Oh my God, Aric probably saw it, too—I have to find him. Right now. Can I call you tomorrow?”

  “I know where Aric is. He’s right here. And based on the way he’s mainlining vodka, I’d say he saw it.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Rock Bottom. A bunch of us came here after work. Aric wasn’t with us—oh, you know that because you worked dayside with him today. He came in after the late newscast, and he’s been going for a world drinking record since then. Dude is hammered.” There was some rustling and then Mara’s voice came back. “Yeah. He’s still up at the bar. And guess who’s with him, practically salivating to lick his wounds?” She didn’t even have to tell me, but she did. “Colleen.”

  “I’m on my way.” I was already on my feet, keys in hand.

  “Wait—no—you can’t. Did Janet reach you?”

  “What? No. I had my phone turned off while Hale and I talked. But it’s too late—the video already aired.”

  “No. She was trying to reach you not ten minutes ago. She asked if I knew where you were. There’s been a huge wreck on Highway fifty-nine. Several fatalities, I think, and the car was in flames.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Yeah. It’s messed up. She and Dan are doing cut-ins. There’s a camera live on the scene, but they need a reporter to go out there. She called the rest of us first because it’s your night off, but pretty much every reporter except for you was here, drinking of course. I offered to come in, but she said she can’t put us on the air if we’ve been drinking.”

  I’d had one drink hours ago followed by a large meal and a belly-full of regret. I hadn’t even gotten to my drown-my-sorrows glass here yet. I felt as sober in that moment as I’d ever been in my life.

  “Shoot. Okay, I�
�m going right now.” I ran to my bathroom for my makeup bag, slipped my shoes back on and opened my apartment door, still talking to Mara. “I’ll call her. Thanks. And listen, look out for Aric if you can, okay? Don’t let him drive. Call him a cab or something. I’ll go see him as soon as I’m done with the live shots and straighten everything out.”

  “I’ll try, but I’m not sure if I can get him out of the talons of Miss Rebound. She works out, you know.”

  # # #

  The accident scene was like something out of a nightmare. The wreckage of what had once been a Prius, according to the police, no longer even resembled a car. It had rolled and then merged with a utility pole just off of the highway. A white cloth was draped over the windshield.

  The sergeant I spoke with on the scene said they’d used the plates to determine the car’s owner and then the name of the driver, a college student from MUW, the women’s college in Columbus.

  “We’re presuming the other three bodies were friends of hers, other students from the school. The details are still sketchy, but another driver said she crossed over into his lane and was about to hit him head on when she looked up and swerved hard. Said he saw a glow under her face, like from a phone. She was probably texting. None of the occupants were wearing seatbelts. We’ll have more in a while for you, but that’s all I’ve got right now.”

  I thanked him and walked back over to Tony, who’d set up a camera on the side of the highway in preparation for the cut-in, which was scheduled to happen in two minutes.

  I glanced down at my notepad, then up at Tony, so he could focus the camera on my face. “Okay,” he said. “They’re coming to us in a minute thirty. You all right?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  Word of the tragedy had obviously spread. There were groups of weeping girls, clinging to each other on the side of the road, outside the yellow police tape. Ugh. When my live shot was done I’d have to go over and talk to them, see if I could get the other names and ask if the girls had any pictures of the victims they’d be willing to share. I hated that part of my job. The thing was, they’d probably give me the pictures and information without any coercion, but I’d still feel like scum for asking. It seemed so vulturistic.