Runner Up

by Leah Banicki

  Get control, Hannah. Get control, get control, get control. I chanted in my head.

  Randall handed me a tissue as I watched myself fall apart on television. Well, now I am certain this IS the lowest point of my life.

  I saw myself tripping down a hill after I accused him of premarital sex. The studio audience gasped when his guilty shrug displayed his contrition. I was certain I was the most pathetic girl dumped this season. They had me on the bed looking pretty bedraggled with my head between my knees a few minutes later. I was still crying a bit, watching myself on TV. I was having a moment of near hysteria and I felt a strange desire to laugh. Perhaps I am losing my mind.

  The screen went black and Randall went back to the face of sincerity.

  “How do you feel after seeing that Hannah?”

  “I…”

  My throat was really tight. Could I speak without squeaking? I was not sure.

  “I am more than a little saddened by it.” My voice squeaked a little and Randall handed me another glass of water and a fresh tissue.

  “Now you and Anthony had shared more dates than any other girl this season. On several occasions you two had talked about your faith and your future, to the point we all were certain you were going to be his chosen bride. Did you feel the same way?” Randall could really phrase a question.

  Where was a frying pan when a girl needed one? I could almost hear the satisfying “Chooonnnnng” as it bounced off his noggin.

  “I was in love with him and I thought we shared the same ideals. I believed at that time that he was in love with me. I was obviously wrong.” I felt more tears escape. Maybe I should use the frying pan on myself. My nose was running. My tissue was turning into a useless rag.

  Randall sensed my problem and handed me another tissue.

  “We were all shocked when you discerned, before anyone else, the physical intimacy shared between Anthony and Desiree. After sharing in personal interviews and in conversation on many dates with you and other girls, Anthony had sworn his intentions of saving himself for marriage. Now that you have had time at home to think on it, what do you think of these events?”

  “I think it’s a shame.” I felt a little stronger for the moment. I had struggled with what to say this whole last week.

  “No one is perfect. No one! I am just disappointed that his integrity was tarnished. I am pretty sure that Anthony didn’t intend to let it happen the way it did. I just hope he plans to do the right thing and marry Desiree. I truly hope they will be very happy together.”

  “So you have moved on Hannah?” Randall asked.

  “I don’t think there is a choice now, Randall.” I felt pathetic as a few more tears escaped.

  Randall stood and the crew started scurrying. I heard a chair scoot next to me. Randall sat back down. Camera’s came back on.

  “It’s time to let Hannah and Anthony visit. It’s been five weeks since they have seen each other.” I turned and saw Anthony looking too wonderful to be the snake I was picturing in my head. He strolled in. He was unchanged.

  “Hi, darling Hannah, you look stunning.” He kissed me on the cheek as I stood to shake his hand, politely. I looked stunning?? Didn’t he say that five weeks ago, too?

  We both sat. Randall was forgotten and the cameras zoomed in as close as it was legal.

  “How have you been Hannah?” Anthony was so smooth. It was like we had no drama between us and he just stopped by for lemonade.

  “Still breathing, You?” I asked sarcastically. I was not gonna make this too easy hopefully.

  “It’s really nice to see you Hannah. I miss our talks.” He seemed sincere. I had no idea what that meant.

  “I am not sure how to respond Anthony. I guess perhaps I missed that part of our talks, where you were honest with me about your intentions.” I heard the strain in my voice and took a deep breath.

  “I really do care for you very much.”

  “Oh Anthony, this isn’t real. You said things to me that no one should say to someone unless you had true feelings for me. You asked my father for permission to marry me, after you had slept with Desiree. I think you ‘missing our talks’ is a really stupid thing to say!” I said that out loud. I heard the audience gasp. A few people applauded.

  “Well, Hannah I am sorry. I think you will make a wonderful wife and mother. I just got lost…” Anthony looked sad a second.

  “I don’t know what’s real and what’s a lie anymore Anthony. I think your words are just hollow. I forgive you but please don’t ask me to care about you anymore.” I don’t know where the words were coming from. I looked into his eyes and saw only lies.

  Randall was talking and the crew helped me out of my chair. My part of the show was over. I sat down as they unattached the wireless mic setup from my person. I blew my nose now that I was backstage and saw my reflection in the makeup mirror. Advances made in waterproof makeup were a miracle. I didn’t care if I would have to sandblast that makeup off later; my face looked the same as it did when I left the makeup chair.

  My parents, Allison, and I went back to the hotel and Allison stayed with me in my room. I was emotional, tired and a total wreck. I said some things that seemed tough to Anthony but I was not strong yet. He was my first love, and a liar. This whole situation felt contrived and false, as if it was a set up to make someone look foolish for good television. This season it was me. I couldn’t go back to my New York apartment. Allison said that reporters were camped out around the building day and night.

  I was headed back to Indiana tomorrow. Allison shared her own good news about meeting a guy while I had been away, but she kept it pretty low key. I tried to press her for details but she said it wasn’t time. I feel like a lousy friend. We always shared our good days and bad. I guess she felt that sharing her own “sweet happily everafter” situation would add to my already low moment. It would be one more thing to feel bad about.

  On the plane I started to feel my dreaded crying migraine coming on. I held on to it for four more days. I suppose the sobbing I did each day helped it along. I needed some serious help.

  We arrived back at home and there was a note on the table.

  Chrissy wrote:

  Dear Family, going to visit a friend. Needed to get away. Sorry about Anthony, Hannah. We can girl talk when I get back. Love, Chrissy

  I sniffled and crawled into my bed. Chapter 15

  “It’s a new day…” I muttered as I got out of bed, trying to convince myself that it was good. I stumbled over to the window and peeked through the blinds. No visitors with cameras present. My head was splitting from crying last night, again. I had never been dumped before. I was never a sympathetic friend after the first week of my friends being dumped had passed. I guess the “get over yourself plan” didn’t always work on a schedule. Mental note, “breaking up was hard to do.”

  I sang ‘the song’ in my head as I got dressed. In the small bathroom I started brushing out my hair. My brush kept catching on the fused extensions the show had added to my hair. I made an executive decision. The fake hair had to go. There wasn’t much to do about the red rimmed eyes but I applied a little makeup and went in search of my mom.

  “I need to change my hair. I want the show “off of me!” These extensions have got to go.” I said, with a gesture of finger scissors hacking away at the long mop in the back of my head.

  “I can call my lady, her salon is great.” My mom grabbed the phone then looked for the number in her pink flowered address book. She had her entire universe in that crazy little book. I wandered to the pantry and grabbed breakfast. I could hear my mother talking to the salon. It sounded hopeful to squeeze in an appointment.

  My mother’s smile was bright as she walked over and sat next to me. “They have a cancelation in an hour. If we show up it’s yours. Then we can go shopping and just have a girl day.” I nodded. That sounded perfect! * * * * *

  An hour later I was in the salon chair chatting away with the hair stylist. After a wash and conditio
ning treatment I returned to my chair. My head was wrapped in a towel and she grabbed the smock and put it around my neck. I looked up and saw how distracted she was and then looked to see why she was distressed. The front window was filling up with onlookers and a few cameras. I sighed.

  “I am sorry I guess the crowds haven’t gotten enough of my boring life yet.” I asked to be moved to another chair so the paparazzi would leave me alone. We moved to the back of the room where I had no audience.

  The salon had six stylists and several other employees that seemed pretty excited about having a famous person in their salon. I thought back to my pros and cons list for the show and realized I had been so clueless. Anonymity has never been a thought.

  The attractive woman cutting my hair kept pretty quiet but after we moved she found her voice.

  “I think Anthony is the biggest idiot for dumping you. Desiree looks like the kind-a-girl that runs the guy around, bleeds ‘em and leaves ‘em.” She was very animated when she talked. The sound of clips and snips of her scissors were fast and furious.

  “I never got to know her very well.” I was trying to be polite but didn’t want to start anything.

  “Everyone here is a big fan of the show. We were rooting for you.” The way she made it sound was like a game show. I guessed I got all the answers wrong or didn’t spin the wheel just right.

  I crawled into my shell for the rest of the appointment, just nodding and smiling cordially when appropriate. She did a great job and I was back to a shoulder-length layered cut. My wavy hair took to the layers and starting curling the way they liked. I felt like me again.

  The salon owner had a glossy picture of me, a headshot from the TV show website, they wanted me to sign. I autographed several pictures after I paid for my haircut. I could hear the cameras clicking outside the window. I put on my jacket, gathered my mother, and headed out the door.

  I saw my mother’s car surrounded by people. I waved politely to the paparazzi to let them get a picture of the new hairdo. I figured if I played nice I might earn a few brownie points. If we all had to live together I would be polite. A bible verse popped into my head. “Above all things try and live peaceably with one another.” Or something like that, I would look it up later.

  My mother was looking more and more distressed as we tried to weave through the people to get to the car. I signed a few more autographs and wondered to myself why these people even cared. I got dumped on TV- so what??

  I saw a car swerve by and park behind ours. A news-van pulled in behind them. Oh my.

  “Mother, do you have your cell?” I said to my mom, watching everyone as they leaned in to listen. My mom looked ready to cry, but she nodded. I didn’t want to scare her but I felt surrounded. “Call for backup!”

  She unlocked the car and got into the driver’s seat. I stepped back and approached the car that had blocked us in. A man was sitting in the front seat.

  “Sir, would you please move your car. You have blocked us in and we are trying to leave.” I smiled politely and made a gesture of ‘please’ with my hands pressed together in front of me. He shook his head ‘no’. I was taken aback. What is this game?

  The news-van door swung open with a whooshing sound and instantly a news reporter and video camera was pushed in my face. Sandy Thomas again, she had a new haircut too, I thought absently. It was really short and spiked out in the back.

  “Nice to see you again Sandy, nice haircut.” My tone was a little sarcastic. I still felt a bit betrayed by her plus-size bride comment, but I didn’t want to make an enemy of the local news media.

  “You too, Hannah. What made you decide to cut off your long locks?” Sandy pointed the mic in my face. I was beginning to feel very self-conscious. I was not in the right mindset for this. I had been crying for days. My heart was pounding in my chest. I was coming undone. I could actually feel myself sweating.

  “Do we have to do this now? Sandy can I let my mother go home? I can schedule a proper interview if you want but we need to move on with our lives.” I looked at Sandy and I could tell she had no intention of letting me go. She was going to try and rile me. I reached into my purse and pulled out a business card. I heard people talking all around me. This was becoming a gathering place. The grocery store next door must have made an announcement because when I look up there were hundreds of people standing in the parking lot.

  I glanced over at my mother’s car and she was standing next to it with the door ajar.

  “I have called in some help sweetie. “ She said, weakly. My mother’s sweet face looked stressed and she had the pinch across her eyebrows. She hated confrontation as much as I did. I gave Sandy a little beauty pageant wave, walked over to the car, and got in. My mother joined me. She reached into her purse and handed me a tissue, as a few hot tears ran down my cheek. I was so sick of crying. Right now it was angry crying. Some people punched things when they were angry, I cried, possibly a horrible downfall if I ever did find a relationship. I rarely yelled, just cried.

  “So, I wonder when the hype will die down?” My mother laughed a little. It was a tight laugh that sounded like a hiccup. I nearly snorted. We both looked at each other and began to crack up. What in the world were we going to do? We were totally trapped in a parking lot surrounded by a crowd of shoppers and media.

  “So, when does the fun stuff start?” I asked, after my giggles subsided.

  “Dear, someday we will just be the Parkers again. By the way, your hair looks really cute with all the layers.” My mother grinned at me. I reached over and gave her an awkward car hug.

  “I love you Mom! I am sorry to put you all through this.” I felt so much guilt. This was taking over our lives, against my will. I had no desire for the spotlight, but it kept following me.

  “Oh Pish! This is an uncomfortable moment now, I say, but we were all excited when this whole thing started. We know better now. The “bloom is off the rose” on the blessing of reality TV fame, for certain.” My mom was so wise. I heard a few sirens nearby and figured a new batch of fun was about to begin. I saw several police officers getting out of their cars a few hundred yards away. The crowds were edging further away without leaving. They did not want to miss the show.

  “I guess I am on again. You stay in the car Mom. They don’t need any excuse to get you involved if possible.”

  I opened my car door and heard the chattering of people. I tried to get my bearings to see who I needed to talk to. I saw a few officers talking to Sandy, the reporter. I hoped they were giving her ‘what for’, as my father would say. I really had no idea what it meant but it sounded serious.

  An officer spotted me and approached.

  “Miss Parker, is this your vehicle?” He pointed to my mother’s car. I nodded.

  “We can get the traffic cleared and the vehicles blocking yours will be charged with illegal parking. It was wise of you to stay out of the situation.” The cop looked to be in his forties and had a no-nonsense way about him. “I have a daughter who loves the show. I am sorry for all the trouble it has caused you.” He gestured for me to get back into the car and they would handle the traffic.

  * * * * *

  We arrived home an hour later. It was only 11 a.m. and I was exhausted. I apologized one more time to my mother and headed to my room. A creepy dark feeling was taking over my brain. I wanted to avoid thinking or being. Regrets were chasing themselves around in my head, questions and pondering until I wanted to shut out the noise. Why did I do this to my family? Why did I invite the chaos of the media into my life? All for a failed romance that made me feel unloved and small.

  I was certain that maybe there was something wrong with me that made me…worthless. I went over every conversation I had with Anthony, over and over… It seemed a chaotic cesspool now. Why did he not want me? I supposed the offer from Desiree was too hot to say no. He did say I had no heat.

  I hated the fact that I started crying again. I yelled at Anthony for saying he missed our talks but I knew exac
tly what he meant. I did miss them, too. I should be glad he did like me for something. Though, it wasn’t enough. Was I doomed to only being friends with a man, always? Did I not have the right equipment or personality to attract a mate, without going further than my morals dictated? I only knew a handful of people in my circle that waited to have sex before marriage. It felt so impossible to be pure and hot at the same time. Could it be done?

  “My head hurts… I need to stop thinking and talking circles in my head.” I said out loud. I opened my laptop and spent a few minutes emailing Allison and then Janette. I kept it light and fake. Congratulating Allison again on finding a nice guy, then chit-chatting about nonsense with Janette, they both deserved more from me, but I did not have it to give.

  After I was finished sending emails, I swirled into another pity party. It was so sad that I went on a television show and found despair, heartbreak and a life-altering media frenzy. Allison found true love without any nasty aftertaste. The words I wanted to say were bitter. They remained on my tongue unsaid, still even unthought-of. UNFAIR, unfair , unfair…I boiled internally and laid my head on the pillow. My mother knocked on the door.

  “You want some lunch sweetheart.” My mother’s voice was sweet but it did not penetrate my mood.

  “No thank you. I am going to take a nap.” My voice sounded exactly how I felt, surly. * * * * *

  “Sweetheart, darling…” My father’s voice broke through the sleepy haze. I glanced up and saw his face pulled tight with a serious look. I bolted into a sitting position.

  “You should come out here. The national news is on. And Chrissy is on.” He was always smiling but now it was nowhere in sight. My head tried to figure out what his sentence meant. Chrissy, on the national news?

  “Is she hurt?” I gasped then stood up flinging the covers away. “Her flight, what’s wrong.”

  “She is fine, and she is talking about you dear. She is being interviewed.” My dad grabbed my hand and pulled my stumbling and confused body to the living room. My mom sat on the couch with a box of tissue. Her eyes were red and she was sniffling. This could not be good.