by Lesley Crewe
“You do nothing but argue.”
“We disagree. There’s a difference.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to be…calmer?”
“You’re young, Miss Sparrow. One day you’ll know passion.”
“I’m going to be an old maid like my aunt.”
Trey laughs as he pours us another cup of tea. “I see the way men look at you.”
“They do?”
He holds his teacup in the air. “Are you pulling my leg? If you end up alone, it’s all down to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You obviously don’t see yourself as others see you.”
“To be quite candid, Trey, when you’ve lived alone for most of your life, you tend to disappear.”
“Well, my advice is to keep your eyes open.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Everyone is excited about Amanda’s idea to race go-karts. We head over on a bus in the late afternoon. One of the keys to making this show interesting is to film our cast at different times of the day. It’s visually more appealing with the occasional sunset in the background.
We set up, our camera guys at different angles along the course. It’s been decided that whoever beats Austin to the finish line is the girl who gets tomorrow’s date. We haven’t told them that they’ll be bungee jumping.
As predicted, Lizette is ahead around the first corner, but Austin is no pushover as he catches up to her, Jocelyn on his tail. Jennifer, Kate, Sarah, and Sandy flounder behind them. Thankfully there’s only one each now, but from behind they look the same with their flowing dark hair. All of these girls are beautiful. No wonder Austin kept them around. As I watch him zooming around the track, I’m not sure if I like that.
In the end there’s a huge upset. Jocelyn beats everyone to the finish line and Lizette is fuming. This was her chance to show off and it backfired. She stalks off and gets back in the bus, the other girls having a giggle at her expense.
Once the important shooting is done, the crew begs to have a turn. It’s getting late and it’s been a long day, but what the heck. Brian’s like a little kid tearing around the track, and Trey and Jerry have me in stitches with their antics. Amanda is a madwoman, cackling into the wind when she passes the guys.
“Get out here, Sparrow! Don’t be a chicken!”
It does look like fun. I attempt to put my helmet on, but I’m doing something wrong with the clasp. Austin comes over and adjusts it for me.
“You’ve never been in a go-kart?”
“I don’t get—”
“Yes, I know.”
Once I’m off, I take a few turns around the track to acclimatize myself to the feel of the cart. This is so much fun! Brian and Trey come up behind and pass me on either side.
I shake my fist in the air. “Curses!”
Jerry and I are the slow pokes, but for the first time in a long time, I’m enjoying myself. Amanda shouts, “Outta the way!”
She bumps me from behind, and my cart smashes into the tires piled up along the sides, flips over, and scrapes along the track before finally stopping. I’m upside down.
Honest to God.
Austin gets to me first.
“A I bweeding?”
“Uh, yeah, stay down.”
Fade to black.
In the hospital emergency room, they tell me I have a concussion, a broken right wrist, a broken pinkie finger on my left hand, whiplash, and a very swollen tongue. Apparently I bit it, and now it’s hanging out of my mouth like I’m a panting dog. Amanda has been crying ever since we got here, so she’s been no comfort at all.
When they release me, a nurse pushes me in a wheelchair to the hospital door, whereupon Austin and Brian help me into the rented car, Amanda still snivelling behind me. I’d like to tell her to knock it off, but I can’t talk without drooling. I’m tired, achy, and thoroughly miserable. Brian carries me up to my room, and Amanda stays with me. Austin asks if there’s anything I need. I close my eyes and he kisses my forehead. “Try and get some rest.”
I hear the others crowded around my door. Trey, Jerry, and the girls call out that they’ll see me in the morning and hope I feel better.
Amanda takes my hand. “It kills me to say this, but you need to go home, Chloe. You can’t stay here alone, and we’ll be gone all day. I’ve arranged for a driver to take you back. We’ll recline your seat and you can sleep. A few days’ rest and you’ll be as good as new.”
Two big tears fall down my cheeks.
“I’ll never forgive myself for this,” she says.
I’ll never forgive you, either.
When I arrive back home, Gramps is furious. “We’re suing! Do you hear me? Suing!”
Even Aunt Ollie’s hot under the collar. “The CBC is negligent, as far as I’m concerned. You’ve been practically killed for this show. What are they going to do about it? You need a bodyguard. You need protection. I’m sick of seeing you look like a war victim.”
My aunt and grandfather open their arms and give me a big hug.
Bathing with a cast and a collar on is no picnic. At least the collar comes off, but at a price. On top of that my cast is itchy, so every hour or so I shove a sharp knife into it and scrape away skin cells. When there is evidence of blood I stop.
My tongue looks like a slab of canned corn beef. I’m alternating soaking it in a bowl of warm water and baking soda and sucking on the Popsicles Gramps picked up for me. Both help, but I still talk like someone’s strangling me.
Lunch consists of yogurt. Damn Amanda. What if I’d broken my neck?
Even though I can’t talk properly, Amanda calls to let me know that Jocelyn survived the bungee jump, and Austin let Jennifer go. All the departures are difficult now, for everyone.
A day later, just when I’m feeling very low, I get a call asking me to come to Mr. Gardner’s office. I have a bad feeling about this and try to protect myself. I wish to not cry in Mr. Gardner’s office.
Gramps drives me downtown. “Do you want me to come in with you?”
I shake my head.
“I’ll be waiting right here, unless some traffic cop decides to be a jerk. In that case, I’ll keep circling the block.”
I’m about to get out of the car when he grabs my hand. “Don’t take any shit off this bastard, ya hear me?”
I nod.
The elevator whisks me to Mr. Gardner’s floor. His personal assistant picks up the phone and tells her boss I’m here. She hangs up. “You can go right in.”
My cast keeps interfering with my ability to turn a doorknob, but I eventually get it. The door swings open and Mr. Gardner rises from his chair. So does Amanda.
This I wasn’t expecting. I thought she was still in Quebec City.
“Sit down, Chloe.”
I take a seat next to Amanda, who looks embarrassed and refuses to meet my eyes.
“How are you feeling, Chloe?” Mr. Gardner asks.
”…ood.”
“This is very difficult to say the least,” he begins. “You’ve had an incredible string of bad luck lately and we feel terrible about that, but in the end this is a business. I can’t keep you on the show any longer, not with you incapacitated like this. You can’t speak properly and we’re coming up to a very busy and important time in the schedule, with the family visits and orchestrating the final episodes. Amanda has agreed to take over. I think you’ll concur that she did a great job in Alberta while you were under the weather.”
If he’s waiting for me to nod my head, he’s out of luck. Mr. Gardner and Amanda exchange glances and Amanda turns to me.
“You know how badly I feel about all this. When Mr. Gardner asked me to step in I was reluctant because this is your show, but in light of the circumstances, I want to do the very best job I can so you’ll be proud of the final product.”
My wish comes true. No tears, just a volcano of hate.
Mr. Gardner clears his throat. “When you recover, you’ll be back at your desk doing the great job you always do. We’re extremely lucky to have your talent here at the CBC.”
I stand up. “I…uit.”
Amanda jumps out of her chair in a panic. “Chloe, you can’t quit! This is just a temporary setback!”
“Don’t be hasty, Chloe,” Mr. Gardner frowns. “You’re being unprofessional.”
Since I can’t say what I want to say clearly, I won’t bother. I walk out the door. Amanda comes after me, so I turn around and hold my arm out to stop her. She gets the message. I take the elevator down to my floor and go to my desk. People I work with are about to approach me, but when I glare at them, they back off. It doesn’t stop them from whispering to each other.
There are very few things I need to take with me. I gather up my picture of Norton, my coffee cup, a stapler, some gel pens, and a pair of slippers I keep under my desk. One of my colleagues approaches and hands me an empty wastepaper basket to put my belongings in—a good idea, since I have two bum hands. The last thing I add is my nasty sweater that’s been hanging off my chair all summer.
I walk out the door and don’t look back. Gramps is where he said he’d be, and when he sees me coming with the wastepaper basket, he hops out of the car and takes it from me, opening my door so I can get in.
When he joins me in the front seat he looks at me. “Fuck them.”
We drive away.
Aunt Ollie brings Norton and the kittens over to see me sometimes—all except Bobby, who refuses to be moved from Gramps’s lap. It turns out the male is the biggest baby of the three. They are very sweet, but since I’m not much fun to be with, they always howl at the front door to go back home. So now I don’t have cats, a job, or a friend.
I’ve been in bed since the day I quit. My cell has buzzed, rung, sung, peeped, tingled, and lit up ever since I left the CBC building. It’s now under my parents’ mattress so I can’t hear it. Aunt Ollie reports that various people have tried to reach me through them, but Gramps keeps telling them to go to hell. For the first time in my life my relatives are putting my needs ahead of their own. I’ll appreciate it for however long it lasts. Aunt Ollie whips up scrambled eggs and bowls of pudding, but mostly relies on ice cream to fill me.
She also makes me go see Dr. McDermott. This maternal spurt of hers is just another form of bossiness. Gramps drives me over and says he’ll nap in the car until I’m finished.
“You’ve lost five pounds.”
“It shtill hurtsth when I ee.”
“Headaches?”
“Yeth.”
“Do you feel dozy or irritable?”
“Yeth.”
“That’s from the concussion. The symptoms might linger. Your aunt tells me you quit your job. I don’t want you getting down in the dumps about this, Chloe, because that will make things worse. Drink your protein drink and milkshakes. I want you to take a good multi-vitamin. You have to look after yourself. I want you to come see me on a regular basis.”
Soon cards and letters start coming through the mail slot from Mr. Gardner, Amanda, Austin, Trey, Jerry, Brian, Jocelyn, Lizette, Kate, Sandy, and Sarah. Now that my tongue is better, I curse as I gather them up and throw them in my CBC wastepaper basket. Maybe someday I’ll set them on fire.
As the days pass, The Single Guy cast and crew become entwined in my mind into one super entity that has given me nothing but heartache since the beginning. If I think of one person, it inevitably leads to thinking of someone else, and I refuse to dwell on any of them anymore—except to say that Amanda stole my job, which is what she wanted from the beginning, and Austin flirts with me but keeps his arms wrapped around other women.
I wish for Austin to kick off Jocelyn and Lizette.
There. Why make things easy for any of them.
Flowers start to arrive, one bunch after another. This must be the new strategy to make me remember them. Austin sends me roses, there are pink Shasta daisies from Austin’s mother Harriet, a huge bouquet from Amanda, an edible arrangement from Trey and Jerry, and a cactus from Brian. His note says To use as a weapon on CBC employees. Good old Brian.
The very next day another bouquet arrives at the door. Steve is holding it.
“Did Amanda send you?”
“No. She doesn’t know we’re friends.”
“Is that what we are?”
“I’d like to think so. May I come in?”
I don’t care if he does or not, so I leave the door open and walk into the living room. He follows me and puts the flowers on the glass, gold-framed coffee table that was old-fashioned when my mother was alive. I recline on Dad’s chair.
“You look like shit, Chloe.”
“Thanks. Your opinion means a lot.”
“I obviously heard what happened through family gossip. I’m sorry it turned out this way.”
“I’m sure Amanda is enjoying herself, so that’s all that matters.”
“I spoke with Jason. She’s having a hard time.”
“My heart bleeds. So what are you up to these days, Ramon?”
“This and that.”
I shake my head at him. “So you haven’t quit your day job.”
“But you did. Why?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Okay. Would you like to go to our German bakery?”
At the moment I’m wearing rags. “No.”
“Why don’t I go and bring some goodies back here?”
It’s not like I have anything else to do. When he returns we stuff our faces in the living room, because I don’t want to eat at the kitchen table. Then I sit back in the recliner and promptly fall asleep. When I wake up he’s gone, the remnants of our meal cleaned up.
That’s the kind of visit I can handle. He leaves a note. I won’t come again unless you call me.
Steve gets it.
It’s now September, which means the show has wrapped. Not that I’m interested, but it does explain the fact that Austin is walking down the street towards me as I sit in my rocking chair on the porch. My energy level is pretty low these days, so I don’t stomp off, which he seems to take as a good sign. He walks up the steps and sits on the last one.
“Hi, Chloe. It’s good to see you.”
“Hi.”
“I’ve been worried about you.”
“Whatever for?”
“Your cast is off. That must be a relief.”
“Not really. I found it handy for whacking unwanted visitors.”
“Why are you mad at me?”
Time to look offended. “I’m not mad at you.”
“Yes, you are. You’re this lovely girl one minute, and then a prickly pear the next. I never know where I stand with you.”
He’s awfully cute at the moment, with his jeans and sky-blue sweater, but I can’t let that distract me. “Perhaps my multiple injuries have put me in a bad mood. Or maybe it’s because you’re the single guy and I hate everything related to that show.”
His grey-green eyes light up—with irritation, I’m guessing.
“I haven’t done a damn thing to deserve this. My only role has been to pick you up and dust you off from one disaster after another. Do you ever wonder why these things happen to you?”
Ignore him.
“Chloe, you’re so busy keeping everyone at arm’s length and so preoccupied with controlling the universe, the gods have to do something to get your attention.”
“I resent that.”
“You can resent it all you want. I’m going to give you a little medical advice. The more rigid you are, the worse the break. This is true for all species. You have to give a little. Stop lifting the world on your shoulders and then barking at the people who can help you lighten the loa
d.”
“Listen here. I’ve held up my world by myself for as long as I can remember and I’ve done a damn good job. I don’t need anyone helping me, and I certainly don’t need you to tell me what I should and shouldn’t feel. What do you know? Your wonderful mother has made your life perfect. It’s not so easy for some of us. You think I wouldn’t love a mother like that? Why do you deserve her, and not me? Why do I even care what you think? You’ve spent the last three months breaking hearts. I won’t let you break mine. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”
I march into the house and slam the door and then stomp up the stairs. My canopy bed and black walls are waiting for me. Now I slam my bedroom door and get under my blankets.
I wish Austin would leave me alone.
The next day the doorbell rings. I think it’s the German bakery delivering my fattening food, but when I open the door, Amanda is there, looking pale with dark circles under her eyes.
“Please let me in. Please. We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.”
“I know you hate me—”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Then why won’t you pick up the phone?”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Aren’t you the least bit interested about what happened at the end of the show?”
“No.”
She stamps her foot. “Stop it, Chloe! I’ve been punished enough.”
Aunt Ollie sticks her head out of her front door. “What’s going on?”
Amanda gathers herself. “I’m here to talk to Chloe, if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind, you sanctimonious bitch.”
Amanda turns bright red. “You have no right to talk to me like that.”
“I can say what I damn well please. Now get off this porch and leave my niece alone. You CBC people have done nothing but hurt her. Get goin’ before I get my broom.”
Amanda gives me a shocked look.
I shrug.
Down the stairs she goes and hurries over to her car, driving away without looking at us.
“Good riddance to bad rubbish.” Aunt Ollie disappears back into her house and I disappear back into mine.
I’ve discovered eating fattening food is a woman’s best friend. What started as an attempt to gain back the weight I lost has turned into a mission. I’ve gone from no appetite, to nothing but. All I think about is food, and none of it is healthy. Gramps and Aunt Ollie don’t care what I chomp on.
