by Elle Casey
She stands too. “I don’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry if that sounded offensive.”
She looks like she genuinely feels bad, so I try to calm down. “It was offensive. But I accept your apology.” Sitting back down, I place the ring on her desk again. It’s propped up on the top of the tissues, making me realize that I really need to find some new ones. These look like they’ve seen a kindergartener’s nose more than once.
She smiles politely. “If you give me your boyfriend’s contact information, I’m sure we can work something out.”
I think about it for a few seconds and decide to take the chance. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?
“Fine. He’s not my boyfriend, but his name is Doctor Oliver. He’s over in Lenox Hill on East Seventy-Sixth Street. You can look up his number online.” I point at her computer.
She gives me a funny look but starts typing away. After a few moments, she hits the speaker button on her phone and dials a number.
I really hate that she’s letting me listen in, but I don’t want to blow this, so I wait for the response. There’s a tiny hope living in my heart that the words Catholic and Charity used together in the same sentence will make a difference.
“Oliver Cosmetic and Reconstructive Surgery Center, how may I help you?”
I wish I could reach through the phone and slap the face of that woman speaking. I can literally feel her attitude on my skin and it’s making me break out again.
“Hello, this is Melba from Catholic Charities…I have someone here in my office who’d like to donate to our organization in the doctor’s name. Is he there to verify the gift?”
There’s a pause and then, “Could you please hold?”
I’m freaking out, thinking I’m almost to the finish line. My armpits are itching now.
“Yes, sure.”
Two very long minutes later, the phone clicks. “Hello?”
It’s him. I feel like peeing my pants, and I can’t sit still. My leg starts itching like crazy, so I bend down and scratch like a madwoman.
“This is Doctor Oliver,” the speaker says. “I understand one of my patients is donating in my name. May I ask which one?”
He sounds so pleased with himself I want to vomit. Don’t say it, Catholic Charities Lady! Don’t tell him who I am!
“Actually, I didn’t say she was a patient. I believe she’s your girlfriend. Or maybe an ex?” The woman has the decency to cringe at that last part.
I glare at her. She’s totally going to ruin this, and I was so close!
“Don’t tell me … let me guess. The donation is a ring?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” She sits up really straight with a huge grin on her face.
— Click —
“Hello?” She stares at the phone.
I drop my face into my hands.
“Hello? Are you there?” She sounds confused. “I think we just got disconnected.”
I let my head fall back so I can stare at the ceiling while she re-dials the number.
“Oliver Cosmetic and Reconstructive Surgery Center, how may I help you?”
“Hello, this is Melba again, with Catholic Charities…”
“Please put us on your do not call list. Thank you, and have a nice day!” The receptionist hangs up, the fake-cheer in her voice still echoing around the office.
I tilt my head back to the front so Melba and I can share our frustration with one another.
She’s staring at the phone. “That was one of the strangest calls I’ve ever experienced in twenty years of working here, and let me tell you, I get some strange ones.”
“Can you keep the ring?” I ask, nearly crying.
She shakes her head and looks at me. “I’m sorry, but, no. Without his permission, we could be held liable for taking someone else’s property.”
I stand and grab the ring in my fist, throwing it into my purse. “Thanks anyway.”
She stands. “Honey?”
I stop and turn to face her. “Yeah?”
“Maybe you should think about keeping it.”
I frown because she’s nuts. “Why?”
“Because. I don’t think he’s ready to let you go.” She gives me a really sweet smile, and I realize she’s completely deluded herself into thinking I really am his girlfriend. My acting skills have apparently improved with all the recent practice.
“Oh, trust me, he’s definitely not interested in keeping me around.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure. What other reason could he have for wanting you to keep it?”
I snort. “He wants me to keep it because he’s a sick bastard who’s trying to make sure the bad juju can’t touch him anymore.”
She cringes. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Never mind.” I walk to her door and open it, the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders. “Thanks for trying.”
“God bless you!” she says at my back.
I can’t answer and be polite, so I keep my mouth shut and walk to the subway. Time for Plan D.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
EVERYTHING’S FALLING APART AND YET life must go on. I still have to get dressed every day, get to work on time, meet with people who’d rather be someone else — or look like someone else — and then cut into flesh and turn it into a work of art that God never intended. But that’s because I have no choice. I don’t have the luxury of checking out on life. There are too many people counting on me to keep my shit together.
Even when I can’t figure out why the hell I should even get out of bed in the morning, I go. I work, I play, I say all the right things to all the right people. But deep down inside, I know there’s something wrong. Something is very wrong with my life. I don’t even know who I am anymore.
I sit at the bar and stare into my glass of bourbon on the rocks. The ice hasn’t had a chance to melt before I’ve already finished my drink. “Another,” I say to the bartender, holding up a finger in his direction and then pointing to my empty glass.
He nods and reaches for the brown liquid.
My cell phone rings. It’s probably Hilary, calling to tell me she’s sorry about our latest argument and that she wants me to come over and make up.
The weight of her expectations presses in on me from all sides. How many more battles can we have before we realize the war is over and we’ve both lost? She’s told me, enough times that I’ve lost count, that there’s one surefire way to fix everything that’s wrong between us. There’s one magic gesture I can make that will soothe all her hurt feelings and make everything right between us forever.
I’ve had my doubts about the ability of that magic bullet to pierce the walls we’ve built over the past three years, but today I finally conceded. Today I decided I might as well try one last thing before I give up on everything forever. I bought her a gift at Cartier, the one she’s been asking me about for almost two years.
When are we going to get married? When are you going to finally commit to this relationship?
Answer: Tonight, after I work up enough liquid courage to say the words that will deliver me. To heaven or hell, I’m not sure which, but deliver me they will. I’ll end up somewhere out of here, this vicious circle that leads nowhere, and that’s fine with me. Even going straight to Hades is better than spinning my wheels going blindly into a future I cannot see.
When I finally wrestle my cell out of my pocket to see who’s calling, I realize I’ve probably had too much to drink. The name is blurry for a couple seconds before I see the letter J.
“Jeremy?” I mumble. I press the green button because even though I’m not in the mood to chat, I can’t refuse a call from my little brother. He always seems like he’s one step away from jumping off a cliff, and I can’t be the one who makes him think that’s a step worth taking. He has even more reason to be looking at the bottom of a bottle than I do.
“What’s up, Jer?” I say, trying to not slur my words.
“Fucked,” he says, obviously not mak
ing any effort to sound sober.
I sigh heavily, waving at the bartender to let him know I need to cancel my latest order. “What’s fucked?”
“Fucking women, thass what.”
My eyebrow goes up at that. My brother is a card-carrying feminist, which isn’t hard to understand when you know his history, so to hear him denigrating the female sex is more than a little disturbing. He was married to the most wonderful girl on the planet, albeit for a very short period of time before she was taken from us, so he has every reason to have hope in the female kind.
“I’ll drink to that,” I say, pulling a fifty out of my wallet and putting it on the bar. I point at it to make sure the bartender knows it’s all for him and grab my coat off the seat next to me.
“No, you dunno…” Jeremy sounds like he’s about to fall asleep.
“What don’t I know?” I step outside into the humid night, leaving my coat to hang over my arm. My eyes scan the street for an available taxi. I need to find Hilary and get this over with.
“She came to me. She actually searched me out and found me. I tried to stay gone, but goddamn … she’s persistent. Fucking fuck! I don’t wanna tell you this shit.”
I’m feeling a little queasy inside, wondering if we’re going to have another conversation about the spirit of his dead wife visiting again. Jeremy gets really creative when he’s wasted, which is pretty much all the time these days. Ever since her car accident three months ago.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Listen, Jer, I know you miss her. We all do. But maybe you should talk to a therapist about this. I could recommend someone I went to med school with.”
“What? No…shit…I’m not talking about Laura, I’m talking about Hilary. Fucking…ah, shit. I can’t say the word. Laura would kill me. She’s gonna hate that I’m swearing so much. I’m fucked.”
There’s so much wrong with that statement, I don’t know where to start. I abandon all efforts to make sense of things and try a different tack.
“Jeremy, where are you? I’m going to come get you.”
“Nah, man. Just stay away. I’m poison. I’m jus’ callin’ to tell you that slut girlfriend you have is no good. Dump her. Fuck her. No, wait, don’t fuck her. Definitely do not fuck her.” He laughs very bitterly at that. Then he starts to cry.
“What are you talking about, Jeremy?” My stomach is in knots.
“I didn’t do it, James. I didn’t. I jus’ want you to know that. I love you too much, man. Even though she was here, and she was taking her fucking clothes off, and she has a nice rack, I didn’t touch her.”
“Her who, Jeremy? Her who?” I’m still hoping he’s talking about his wife’s spirit and not the woman I was leaving here to propose marriage to.
“Your girlfriend or fiancée or whatever the fuck she is. She came at me, man, and she touched my dick. She said she wanted to be with me.” He starts sobbing. “And all I could think about was Laura and how disappointed she’d be in me and how I must have done something to make Hilary think this was something I wanted, and I don’t want it. I don’t want it, James, do you hear me? I don’t want any of this! I just want Laura back! I just want her back!” There’s a huge clatter and the phone cuts off. My guess is he’s launched his cell across a room and into a wall for the fifth time.
My hands are shaking, I’m so furious. My brother’s been pushed to that cliff-edge and it wasn’t by me. It was by the lying, cheating bitch I never should have gone out with in the first place. I cannot believe I have a ring for her in my pocket.
I scroll through my favorites and hit the green button on my phone. I don’t even wait for her greeting before I start talking.
“We’re done, Hilary. Fucking done.”
“Sweetie, what’s going on?” Her voice is saccharine sweet. Why did I never notice before how fake it sounded?
“Where is he?” I grind out.
“Where is who?”
“My brother.”
“How would I know where your waste of a brother is?”
It’s bad enough that she’s lying, but she’s also insulting the one guy in the world who doesn’t deserve it. He can’t help the fact that fate destroyed his world three months ago and left him to fade out to nothing.
I’m tempted to punch the stone wall next to me, but remember that my hands are my work and I need to work.
“Don’t fucking act like you don’t know what I’m talking about!” I yell.
“You know what? I was going to forgive you for your latest bullshit, but you can forget it now.”
I hold the phone out and try to strangle it. Part of me honestly wishes it were her neck that I held in my hands.
Putting the cell back to my ear, I take a breath. “Hilary, whatever you said to Jeremy has made him really upset. I need to go to him and talk him down off the ledge. Tell me where he is.”
“How would I know?” she asks, but she’s not as bitchy about it this time.
“Because. You’re good at tracking people down, and I know you talked to him tonight.”
“Says who?”
“Says Jeremy.”
“He’s a fucking alcoholic, James. You can’t trust a word he says. He’s hallucinating about his dead wife again, you know.”
“Which you would only know because you saw him recently. Please, stop being a bitch and just tell me where he is.”
She hangs up on me without another word.
I guess I can’t blame her seeing as how I used her least favorite word in the world on her, but I can’t quite muster the regret I should probably feel. Instead, I call my sister.
“Jana, it’s me, James. Call me back ASAP. Jeremy’s in the shit again and this time I’m really worried.”
I hail a taxi and tell the driver to head out to Brooklyn. Jeremy won’t be at my sister’s place, but if I know her she has her phone off so it won’t wake the baby. She’ll never get my message in time to help us.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
THE DRIVE TAKES US ALMOST an hour. Sometimes I really hate New York and all its non-stop traffic. I use my key to let myself in and follow the dim lights left on to the kitchen. Jana is sitting at the dining table, drinking tea.
“Hey big brother, since when do you hang out in Brooklyn on a Wednesday night?” She stands to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She’s tiny, barely making it to my shoulder. With the dark circles under her eyes she looks way too fragile. I hold her against me longer than I normally do.
She looks up with concern in her eyes. “What’s wrong? Is it Jeremy?”
“How’d you guess?” I walk over to her kettle and pour myself some hot water, adding a teabag to it before joining her at the table.
“What are the chances anything else would bring you out here in the middle of the night?” She gives me a rueful smile.
“You’re right. And this time, it’s bad.”
“It’s always bad.” Her eyes get watery, but she doesn’t cry. My sister is tough as hell. She’s been put through the ringer, maybe more than any of us. Not only did she lose a best friend and a sister-in-law, she’s been left with the biggest burden of all.
I glance up the stairs with questions in my eyes.
“She’s asleep, as of ten minutes ago. I was just going to join her.”
“Still not going down easy?”
Jana snorts. “That’s funny. When did you turn into a comedian?”
I put my hand over hers. “I’m sorry. Just ignore me being stupid.”
She puts her hand over mine. “You’re not being stupid. You’re being a caring, loving, concerned uncle, and I appreciate it.”
“Want me to take her this weekend?” I’m not sure where that came from, but I don’t take it back when I see the look on her face.
Her eyes widen. “Could you? Would Hilary be okay with that?”
I shake my head and stare into my tea, gritting my teeth to keep from saying what I want to say about that bitch.
“What’s wrong?”
/> “Do you know where Jeremy is?”
I look up to find Jana blinking a few times.
“Is this related to the Hilary issue?” she asks. “I’m lost.”
I shake my head, trying not to get all teary-eyed about my fucked-up life. “Unfortunately, yes. She tracked him down and made a move on him.”
“What?!” Jana yells so loud her voice echoes all over the kitchen.
Two seconds later we hear a wailing from the baby monitor.
Jana drops her head into her hands and mumbles, “Fuck me sideways.”
I stand and pat her on the head. “Stay here. I’ll get her.”
“Don’t bring her down or she’ll never sleep. Just rub her hiney and pat her on the back. Keep the light off.”
“You have a system, huh?” I walk down the hall, impressed as hell with my little sister. Twenty-five is awful young to be taking on a three-month old baby, especially being single.
“Yeah,” she mumbles, “when it works.”
I climb the stairs, half-dreading what waits for me and half-hoping that the simple act of comforting a tired baby will somehow deliver me from the real world for just a little while.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I KNOW I’M NOT SUPPOSED to help her wake up any more than she already is, but I can’t help myself. Her smell is better than any drug or anesthesia I could administer.
Her soft, nearly boneless body is nestled in the crook of my arm and I’m rocking back and forth as smoothly as I can in the chair my sister has set up near the window. The moon is full and its light fills the room with a silver glow.
I sing in a half-whisper, my voice breaking on the high notes. “And then she tried, to sleep with my brooooother, and messed him up in the heaaad for life, and then I took the riiiiiing that I bought her and threw it in the Hudson riiiiiiiver…”
My sister leans in the doorway and wipes a tear from her cheek. “I can’t believe she did that,” she whispers. “Did you really buy her a ring?”
I nod, looking down at my niece who’s finally fallen back to sleep.
