by Quinn Loftis
Jessica made a loud sound like a buzzer going off. “Wrong! You text him back and tell him that you are still angry with him.”
“But I’m not angry with him,” said Samantha.
Jessica closed her eyes, shook her head, and let out a long, slow sigh. “Oh, grasshopper, you have so much to learn.” She brought her palms together under her chin in a prayerful pose. “It is lucky I am here to teach you the ancient art of womanly manipulation. I only hope that I am not too late.”
At this point, Charity smiled and became reinterested in the conversation. She grabbed Jessica’s arm. “Please don’t give up on her, oh wise one. She was but a poor orphan when I found her. I’ve done what I can, but she is beyond even my skills as a teacher. Still, I know she has potential. Beneath her plain exterior, I can sense hidden talents. If you would deign to take her on as a pupil, I know she could achieve greatness.”
Jessica opened her eyes to slits and nodded her head. “I will consent to take her on, but I fear this may be my greatest challenge yet. Alas, it could also be my greatest achievement.”
“Are you two quite done?” asked Samantha.
“Perhaps the young one doesn’t desire my help,” said Jessica. “Perhaps she is content to remain in the sexual wasteland in which she has wallowed for so long. It is as I feared. She is beyond all hope.” Jessica sucked in a sharp, dramatic breath and turned away.
“It is sad when they choose this path,” said Charity, shaking her head. “Some refuse to have their minds open. Let us put her back in the matrix. There she will grow old and alone, just like the others in the forsaken land.” She made a sweeping gesture toward the rest of the office.
“Fine, what should I say to him?” Sam asked.
“Did you hear something, oh wise one?” Charity asked Jessica and then feigned looking around the cubicle.
“It was just the wind,” replied Jessica.
“Ah, yes, you are correct. The dry, dry, wind.”
Samantha rolled her eyes and then said in as monotone voice as she could manage, “Please, please, oh wise one. Consent to teach me your ancient wisdom. I know that I will never hope to achieve a level of royal womanhood close to yours. I only hope to follow in your revered footsteps.”
“Much better,” said Jessica with a wink. “Now, you tell him you’re still mad at him BUT you are willing to forgive him IF he agrees to meet with you when he’s in Virginia. And he must take you out to the fanciest restaurant in town. And he must bring you flowers.”
“And chocolate,” added Charity quickly.
“Yes, and chocolate,” agreed Jessica.
Samantha’s pulse began to race. Jason was visiting all fifty states He would be in Virginia at some point. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought about that before. How stupid of her! She could see him if she wanted.
But did she really want to see him? What would that accomplish? She was already head over heels after one weekend in Vegas. How would she feel after meeting him a second time? It would only make it that much harder to get over him when they both went back to their regular lives. She’d vowed to never let herself be hurt again. Why would she willing allow Jason deeper into her heart? It would only make the hole that much bigger when he was gone.
Now the butterflies in their balloons came sinking back to earth. The colorful balloons were punctured, and all the air had leaked out. They landed with a thud of reality in the pit of her stomach, resting on the ground like wet grocery bags.
Samantha lowered the phone with a crestfallen look on her face. “No. No, Charity is probably right. I shouldn’t even respond to him.”
“What?” Jessica asked in shock. “You were just so excited. Why the change of heart?”
Sam shook her head. “It’s just … it’s too soon. I’m not ready.”
Jessica and Charity exchanged knowing glances. Jessica pursed her lips. “Okay, have it your way.” She and Charity walked off, leaving Samantha alone in her cubicle, staring at her phone as she read the message over and over again.
Samantha didn’t hear Jessica whisper to Charity as they walked away.
“You know what we have to do, right?” Jessica asked.
“Already on it,” Charity replied.
Less than an hour later, Sam heard screams coming the from the breakroom. She jumped up from her cubicle and looked around, confused. The rest of her coworkers were doing the same thing. At once, they all dashed in the direction of the noise. When they piled into the room, they saw Jessica standing face-to-face with a large, balding man sporting a wrinkled shirt and stained tie. The door to the office refrigerator stood ajar, and he was holding a brown paper bag in his hand. Even though he stood a few inches taller than Jessica, the man was cowering beneath her stare.
“Bob Green, you conniving thief! You put that lunch back right now!”
“But, but, it’s mine.”
“It is not yours, you liar!” Jessica grabbed his tie, pulling him nose to nose. “This has gone on long enough, Bob. We all know you’re the lunch thief, and I’m sick of it. That’s the last tuna sandwich you steal from me, you bastard.”
“It’s mine. I bring tuna every day.” He whined.
“I packed that lunch this morning,” said Jessica. “It has an apple and a bag of corn chips in it.”
“I know it does. That’s what I bring every day.”
“Are we supposed to believe that, Bob?” She snatched the sack from his hands and dumped its contents on the table. A tuna on white bread sandwich fell out and landed with a thump, followed by a bag of corn chips and a green apple that rolled off the table and across the floor.
“This … this … this is insane,” said Bob.
“How would she have known what was in the bag if it wasn’t hers?” asked one of the onlookers.
“Because I bring the same thing for lunch every day,” he cried.
“Like she pays attention to what you eat,” said another coworker.
“Wait,” said Jessica turning around. “Where’d that apple go?” Someone picked it up and handed it to her. “This is a Granny Smith,” she said to Bob, holding it in front of him.
“Yeah, I always bring Granny Smiths. I don’t like red apples.”
Jessica handed the apple back to Bob. She held up her hands and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry, everyone,” she said. “I packed a Red Delicious this morning. My mistake. This must be Bob’s lunch after all. My bad.” She straightened Bob’s tie and smoothed his shirt. “No hard feelings, Bob.” She turned around and walked out of the breakroom, leaving Bob standing there with a shocked look on his face.
The laughter and giggles took several minutes to die down as the customer service reps returned to their own cubicles. Samantha rushed over to Jessica, a look of confused delight on her face. “What was that about?” she asked.
“I thought I had caught the lunch thief,” she said.
Samantha furrowed her brow. “No, you didn’t. You never bring your lunch. You knew that wasn’t yours.”
Jessica shrugged. “Then I guess I was just having a bit of fun.”
Sam narrowed her eyes at Jessica, but the woman offered no further explanation. “Whatever you say,” said Sam turning to walk back to her cubicle.
Samantha sat back down. She was just about to put on her headset and return to work when she saw another notification on her phone. Again, it was from Jason. She could read the entire message on the phone’s lock screen preview.
Sounds like a plan!
What in the world? Sam snatched up her phone and unlocked it. She pulled up the message and saw the outbound text that was sent three minutes ago.
Jason, I can’t say I’m not still a little miffed at you. The snow globe was no consolation to seeing your handsome face at breakfast on Sunday. I will forgive you, IF you take me to La Madia restaurant when you finally get to Virginia. And you have to bring me flowers. And you have to bring Charity chocolate. No chocolate for me, AS it goes straight to my hips. You may cal
l me at noon tomorrow on the dot. Not 11:59, not 12:01. Fail to do so and I will hate you forever. -Samantha the Vomit Queen.
Samantha slapped her palm to her forehead. She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or strangle Charity and Jessica. She got up as if to march to Charity’s cubicle, then she sat back down again. Then she got up again, then she sat down again. She clenched her fists and shook them in exasperation. She put both hands in her hair and gripped handfuls of it tightly. “Argh!” she finally shouted.
“You’re welcome,” shouted Charity from a few cubicles away.
Chapter Twenty
Samantha practically floated to her vehicle at the end of the day. She’d hardly been able to hold her train of thought for longer than a minute before she began anticipatorily daydreaming about her conversation with Jason at noon the following day. Tran was already gloating when she walked into the front door of the coffee shop.
“He call, no?” said Tran, a wide grin splitting his face.
“He texted,” she replied.
Tran rolled his eyes. “Back in Vietnam, we had similar mode of communication. We tap on bamboo tree. Morse code. Tap, tap, tap. That meant ‘Here come American swine. Kill him now with blow dart.’ You should call sad man, talk like intelligent person, not use Morse code like in jungle war.”
“He’s going to call me tomorrow, Tran, not that it’s any of your business.” Samantha couldn’t keep her own grin off her face.
“Ah, now you useless entire shift. I brought this on myself.” His face returned to its normal unscrupulous look. “Tran should know better. Stop giving such good love advice to hopeless American girl. Go work drive-thru. Don’t screw up!” His voice rose, and he pointed to the back of the store.
Samantha didn’t even let Tran’s antics get her down. Throughout the course of the evening, she couldn’t focus for longer than five seconds. She made a mistake on almost every order and she couldn’t care less. Tran yelled at her at least twenty times, and still she refused to stop smiling. In less than twenty-four hours, she’d hear Jason’s voice again. And not just on the internet. His real, actual voice, on the telephone, speaking to her. The balloon-riding butterflies were back in force. Now, they wore top hats, had unicorn friends, and sprinkled glitter wherever they went.
At nine o’clock, an hour before Samantha’s shift was supposed to end, Tran could take no more. “You go now,” he yelled. “You useless as tits on boar hog. Trained monkey make better coffee than you.”
“Thanks, Tran.” Samantha smiled and yanked off her apron. She practically sprinted to the door.
“Wait!”
Samantha had one hand on the door, and Tran’s voice stopped her cold. She turned to face him.
“Congratulations. Your heart made of rubber now instead of wood. Good for you. But now your brain made of chow mein noodles. Do better on Thursday or I fire you.”
“You’d never fire me, Tran.”
“I fire you. Then I rehire you, just so I fire you again.”
“If you fire her, I fire you!” A large Vietnamese woman came barreling out of the kitchen brandishing a wooden spoon.
Tran shrieked. “Linh, my petunia, my lovely bride, when did you get here? So nice to see you. What brings you to the shop?”
“Shut it, Tran. Show me this month’s receipts, now!” She turned to Samantha and waved cheerfully. “Bye, bye, now, Sammy. So nice to see you.”
Okay, maybe Tran was right about his wife. She is a tad scary at times. But only to Tran. Everyone else is safe from her wrath. Samantha just laughed as she left the shop. She dashed across the parking lot, jumped in her car, and headed for home. She didn’t even remember to do surveillance for Derek’s blue truck as she exited the building.
When Samantha pulled into her apartment building’s parking lot, she saw something sitting on the patio just outside her door. As she parked her car, she recognized the object as a large bouquet of flowers in a glass vase. All the happiness drained out of her like water running out of a bathtub. For a brief instant, she tried to stop the flow, imagining, perhaps, that the flowers were actually from Jason instead of her ex-boyfriend … or even Henry would be better. But she knew before the thought had fully formed it wasn’t true. Derek was finally making his move. The blue truck was in its parking spot. Samantha swore as she threw the car in park and then stormed up the steps to her apartment. Skip was at his usual place in his lawn chair. Mrs. Kush Kush wasn’t around. She was probably creeping around the apartment grounds, pretending to hunt. She was too blind to actually catch anything, but that didn’t stop her from trying.
“Hey, Skip.”
“Hey, Samalamadingdong. How’s it going? Looks like you’ve got an admirer.”
“Unfortunately, he’s not a secret one. Were you here when the flowers came?”
“Sure was.”
“Did Derek bring them himself or were they delivered?”
“He brought them up. We talked for about fifteen minutes. Are you sure about him? He seems really chill.”
“He is anything but, Skip. Don’t let his smooth talk fool you. He’s scum.”
Sam reached past the flowers and unlocked her door, swinging it open. She took the toe of her shoe and pushed it against the side of the vase, sliding the flowers across the concrete. Then she stepped past them and sat her bag down on her cheap, overstuffed easy chair—one of the few pieces of shoddy furniture she’d had to purchase on credit in an effort to rebuild her life after Derek ruined it.
She thought about simply leaving the flowers exactly where they sat on the porch. But she knew that would only delay the inevitable, and the waiting was almost worse than the oncoming storm. Instead, she went back out on to the covered patio. “You going to be here a minute, Skip?” she asked her neighbor.
“Got no plans for the evening and plenty of smokes. Should be around.”
“Good, stay put. I want a witness.”
Sam picked up the vase and flowers, walked over to the railing, and held the vase over the open air. The memory of Bethany’s laminated flower floating out of her hand at the Hoover Dam flashed in her mind. The thought filled Samantha with peace.
Sam opened her hand. The flowers and vase fell. Sam watched as they descended. They seemed to fall in slow motion. Sam felt an eternity passed before they finally crashed on the concrete below, sending glass shards flying in all directions.
Sam counted out loud. “Three, two, one.” She watched as Derek came running out of his apartment below her. He looked up at her in shock. For a moment, he said nothing. She could almost see gears grinding in his head. The emotions passed so clearly on his face they looked like previews on a theatre screen. First, she saw surprise. He hadn’t expected that. The old Samantha would’ve been so impressed by his gift. But that quickly passed to be replaced with fury. How could she have refused his gift that he’d spent so much on? He wanted to rail at her. She could see it on his face. But he knew that approach wouldn’t work, not yet. He had to use kid gloves until he got her ensnared again.
Now, she saw Derek’s mind appear to go into vapor lock for a moment. He was confused. He wasn’t certain what his next step should be so he stood frozen. He needed more information. Derek was so transparent to her now. It was almost as if he were a bug she’d trapped in a jar and she were watching his desperate attempts at escape. She could read his thoughts as if he’d written them on a piece of paper. She wondered why she had ever fallen for him in the first place.
“Does this mean you won’t talk to me?” he finally asked.
“Not at all,” she replied. “Come on up.”
Samantha pulled the door to her apartment closed and turned her back to it. She crossed her arms in front of her and spread her feet apart. She donned a mask of impassivity. The moment Derek’s foot hit the top step of her landing, she spoke. “What do you want to talk about?”
The shock had returned to his face. She could tell he couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing. “Uh, can we go inside?” h
e asked, gesturing to her apartment.
“No, anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Skip.” Samantha hoped her implication was clear. They no longer shared anything intimate or personal. She was strictly business from here on out. There would be no more private conversations between them, no more threats, no more pleas for forgiveness, no more whispered endearments in her ear.
“Is this a bad time?”
The voice came from behind Derek but Samantha recognized it. Apparently, Henry had chosen this moment to up the weird factor. That was okay for now. It just meant she had another witness.
“And Henry here,” she motioned around Derek. “Whatever you need to say, Henry can hear it too. Hey, Henry,” Samantha smiled and waved like they were old pals.
“Um, hello.” Henry sounded unsure of himself, his usual calm demeanor wavering.
Derek completely ignored Henry as he looked at her. “Sammy-girl, please. Don’t be like that.”
“My name is Samantha. Please use it.”
Derek looked as if he’d been slapped. That was his ace in the hole. Samantha could never resist his pet name for her. Sammy-girl always got the door open for him. After that, the rest was easy.
“Um, okay, Samantha.” He looked like he was swallowing a dry lump of instant potatoes as he said her name. “Would you please allow me into your apartment so we can discuss our relationship? We were together for almost four years. I don’t think we can talk about that in front of a strangers.”
Samantha cocked her head. “Strangers? Skip is not a stranger. Skip is my friend. Aren’t you, Skip? And Henry isn’t a stranger, isn’t that right, Henry? Henry’s been keeping tabs on me for months now. We’re practically best friends, too. So, by all means, speak.” She looked past Derek to where the hippy sat and the stalker stood.
“Samwise and I are tight as my wallet before the first of the month,” said Skip.
Henry’s response was a little less solid. “Uh, best friends is a little—”
