Chloe Sparrow

by Lesley Crewe

  “Did everyone know?”

  “No. Amanda doesn’t know yet, because she’s been in another world what with her demanding schedule, and Austin was careful around everyone. I only noticed it because I’m a guy. I already know your answer, but are you in love with him?”

  I nod and tell them what I’ve been doing to woo Austin. Jerry tries to hide his dismay.

  “Stop it for a few days. Maybe even a week.”

  Trey sips at his butternut squash soup. “You let him know you’re interested, now wait a bit. You don’t want to be a stalker.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you, do you miss work?” Trey says.

  “No, but I miss the people.”

  Jerry points his fork at me. “Brian was saying the other day that his shoots aren’t nearly as interesting now that you’re not there.”

  “Good old Brian.”

  “Did you hear he hooked up with Sydney?”

  “No way! I always liked Sydney.”

  “Can I leave you with another thought?” Trey says. “For the love of God, run, don’t walk, to the nearest high-end hair salon. You’re not going to woo anyone looking like that.”

  Unbelievably, I listen to him. Now my hair is impossibly cute. I spend an hour in the bathroom at home talking to imaginary people and flipping it this way and that. Hair is definitely a barometer of the soul. Even Gramps and Aunt Ollie like my new shaggy bob. Naturally, Agatha has her opinion: “Anything would be better than the way you had it.”

  The reunion show airs tonight. I expected Amanda to call me afterwards; instead, she shows up at my door beforehand.

  “Oh my God, I love your hair! I had to watch it with you. Do you mind?”

  If only she knew how much I mind. “Come in.”

  We settle on the living room couch. She’s brought snacks and a couple of cold Cokes. Trey introduces the hostile jury of dismissed females sitting on what look like bleachers, just waiting for Austin to come out from behind the curtain. Then there’s the studio audience of freaked out The Single Guy fans who can’t believe they watched the entire series only to be disappointed.

  He emerges to a smattering of applause but mostly catcalls, and shakes Trey’s hand before unbuttoning his jacket and sitting on the couch.

  For two hours the women rake him over the coals. All their disappointment comes bubbling to the surface. Austin is the target for their unrequited dreams. He manages to stay calm through it all.

  Not Amanda. She’s completely riled up and throws taco chips at the television. “I just want to smash their faces in! Sanctimonious she-devils!”

  Trey asks Austin if he’s sorry he came on the show.

  “No, I’m not sorry. I met some wonderful people—the ladies, obviously, but also the crew, who were a great bunch and were with us for our adventures last summer. We travelled the country together and weathered some unexpected obstacles, but all in all I’d say it was a very worthwhile experience. Obviously it didn’t turn out the way I expected, and I feel badly about that. These beautiful women offered their hearts, and because they did, I needed to be truthful with them. They deserve respect, honesty, and loyalty and I didn’t want to make a promise I couldn’t keep.”

  Now everyone’s melting. Trey was right.

  I turn off the television. Amanda is eating a pepperoni stick. “Is he not the sweetest guy? No wonder everyone’s in love with him!”

  “Including me.”

  She stops chewing.

  “I love him.”

  “When did that happen? I know we always said we loved him, but not loved, loved him. How come I was oblivious to this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Then she does her restaurant scream.

  “He loves you! That’s why he didn’t pick anyone! That’s why he got rid of Jocelyn and Lizette even though they were his favourites. So it wouldn’t be as traumatic for him at the end! Sandy and Sarah were just innocent victims—sorry, wrong word—innocent bystanders. Oh my God! Wait till I go home and tell Jason! This is fantastic. I’m so pleased for you, Chloe!”

  “He doesn’t love me anymore. I ruined it with my pathetic ranting about how I didn’t need him or any man.”

  “We all say stupid things we don’t mean. Fight for him, Chloe!”

  “That’s why I got the haircut.”

  “Good start. Now get a mani–pedi as well.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  It’s around nine in the evening and raining. I know Austin’s home; I can see his Mini Coop in the parking lot of this totally dreary apartment block. His address is still in my phone, which is how I tracked him down. That sounds like I’m hunting him. Which is not entirely inaccurate.

  Because my plethora of gifts didn’t produce any results, I’ve arrived empty-handed. Tonight it’s just me and my nasty sweater dodging raindrops as I run into the foyer of his building. The humidity is already affecting my new coif, but I can’t worry about that now.

  Press his number. Ring. Ring.

  The box says, “Yes?”

  “It’s me. Chloe. Chloe Sparrow.”

  He makes me wait for thirty seconds before he buzzes me in. This doesn’t bode well. He’s on the third floor, so I walk to my execution rather than take the elevator.

  He’s not waiting with the door open, so I knock. When he finally opens the door—it takes forever—he doesn’t say anything.

  “Hi, Austin, may I come in?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “To tell you I watched the reunion show and I was so proud of you.”

  He leaves the doorway, so I make the assumption I’m allowed in and follow him into a very sparse apartment. Only the necessities are here. He sits at his computer desk and whirls around in the swivel chair, burning off excess hatred, I guess. I perch on the very edge of the couch, since he didn’t actually invite me to sit down.

  “I love your hair.”

  That’s a good sign. “How have you been?”

  “I was slapped by a woman at the grocery store yesterday. I’ve received hate mail and, oddly enough, about a thousand marriage proposals, so I guess you could say I’m all over the map.”

  “I’ve been having a hard time…”

  “Of course you have.”

  “Look, I’m trying to woo you and so far I’m failing. I love you, Austin. I know I haven’t given you any reason to believe that, but I do, most sincerely. It’s taken me a long time to figure out how messed up I’ve been, and Dexter—”

  “Who’s Dexter?”

  “My shrink-slash-boss.”

  “You work for a psychiatrist?”

  “We’re a two-man operation. He’s only just graduated—but never mind him. You’re the best guy I’ve ever met. I’ve never had a real boyfriend...”

  “You told me you did have a boyfriend. The reserved fellow who works in an art gallery.”

  “I’m a liar on top of everything else. You’re right, I’ve only been concerned with myself, but I’m getting better. Please don’t hate me. I went to your mom’s and apologized about the flowers. She was as lovely as always.”

  “Chloe, you may think you love me, and that’s very flattering, but my heart can’t take any more hurt, so even if I believed you I wouldn’t do anything about it. I need to protect myself right now. You need to leave me alone.”

  “So no more wooing?”

  “None.”

  I stand up. “I’ve never loved a man before, and even if we’re never together again, I want you to know that I intend to be just like Aunt Ollie and love you until I’m old and grey. Be happy, Austin.”

  When I leave, he doesn’t come after me. In my head I always picture him saying, “Wait!” but there’s no sound as I close his door. My sweater gets wet going back to the car. Amanda’s right: it does stink when it’s wet. I drive for
hours without a destination, blowing my nose a couple of hundred times.

  A week later disaster hits. Norton goes missing.

  I look for her and call until I’m hoarse. Gramps, Aunt Ollie, and Agatha help me and we search every corner in every closet and under beds and in the basement. She’s gone. I swear I haven’t left a door open, so I can’t figure out how or why she isn’t with me anymore.

  “If I didn’t leave a door open, then it must have been one of you two!”

  Gramps and Aunt Ollie both swear on a stack of Bibles that they have never left the door open. So I canvass every homeowner in a ten-block radius. I plaster posters everywhere, and I call the SPCA and other rescue organizations to see if they have her. I take out print ads and radio ads and offer a reward of five thousand dollars. I ask all the vet’s offices in the area to be on the lookout, even Austin’s. Surely he’d let me know, even if he does hate my guts.

  And then one morning I notice a straight rip along the edge of the kitchen window screen. It’s big enough for a cat to get through. Thinking back, I cracked that window open one night when I burnt something on the stove and forgot to close it till the morning. So here’s the proof. She really did leave me.

  Every night I gather the kids on my bed and cry my heart out. They’re used to it now, so it doesn’t bother them. How could Norton have left us like this? Someone must have stolen her, she must be trying to get back to us. The thought of it gives me nightmares.

  Every day when I go to work, the first thing Dexter does is look up from his desk. When I shake my head, he grimaces. Amanda came over one night to spend time with me, but I wasn’t great company so I told her to go.

  I’ve lost ten pounds, but I don’t care. Nothing matters. I’m so distraught I barely speak to Dexter’s patients. At night I stand by the living room window with the lights out and watch the budding tree branches sway in the wind, hoping to see her saunter down the sidewalk. Now that it’s April it’s not as cold at night, but she’s out there and could be hurt or starving. The dark winter of my discontent threatens to overtake me once more, which is terrifying. Memories of the night Norton came into my life haunt me.

  I get on my knees and pray. I wish Norton would come home to me. “Please, someone up there, if you’re listening, that’s all I want.”

  The very next evening, the doorbell rings, and when I open the door Austin is standing there with Norton in his arms. I burst into tears and reach for my cat. Norton licks my face and lets me hold her for a minute, but then she wants to go and see her kids. I hug Austin. My cheek presses into his coat and he puts his arms around me. I want to stay there forever.

  Eventually, I have to let him go to wipe my tears. Austin follows me into the kitchen and sits on a chair.

  “I can’t believe you brought her back to me. It’s so good to see you, Austin. You look better.”

  “You look like hell.”

  “I’ve been so upset about Norton, I can’t think straight. How did you find her? How did this happen?”

  “An eight-year-old girl came in with her parents and they had Norton in their arms. They said that Norton showed up on their doorstep one night and walked in like she owned the joint. They brought her to me to get her checked out. When I told them I knew who owned the cat, the little girl was very disappointed.”

  “She can get another cat.”

  “She’s an only child, and she’s bonded with Norton. If you could see the two of them together…”

  “No thanks. Norton is back with me, where she belongs.” I pick her up and give her a cuddle.

  “It’s up to you, of course.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Give her my pet?”

  “Do what you think is right.”

  I keep Norton in my arms. “Thanks a lot for the judgement. Why did you even bring her back? You could have kept your mouth shut and not told me.”

  “I couldn’t do that to you.”

  “Please go, Austin. I don’t have the strength for this at the moment.”

  He gets up out of the chair. “Eat something, will you? Promise me you’ll look after yourself.”

  “Thank you for bringing her home.” I turn away and keep my face buried in Norton’s fur until I hear the front door close. A few minutes later I rush next door to tell them the good news. They’re very relieved to see her and happy she’s home.

  Norton puts up with me fawning over her for a couple of hours and then she goes to the front door and meows.

  “Norton, you just got home. You can’t leave.”

  She stays by the door all night. Nothing I do entices her away. She looks sad and desperate to go.

  “Please don’t leave me, Norton. My heart will truly break.”

  As dawn approaches after the second night of Norton holding vigil by the front door, I realize that Norton is here physically, but her time with me is over and she won’t be coming back.

  “Is this what you do, Norton? Find people who need you?”

  Before I go to work I take Norton in the cat carrier and drive to Austin’s clinic. I ask the girl to let Austin know I’m here and then sit in the back, away from everyone. Norton is purring. She knows.

  When Austin comes around the corner, he gives me a big smile and then sits beside me.

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Norton told me to.”

  “You won’t regret this.”

  “You’ll have to take her. I can’t do it. Call the family and get them to come. I don’t want to meet them, but I’d like to see them.”

  “I will do that. Can I get you anything while you wait?”

  I shake my head.

  Austin picks up the cat carrier and takes it with him. It’s everything I can do not to weep buckets. I’m trying to be brave and focus on the fact that I am lucky enough to have Norton’s babies waiting for me at home.

  It dawns on me that the child will be in school so I settle in for a long wait, but twenty minutes later, a couple come in with a little girl wearing a kerchief on her head. She’s bald underneath. Oh my God, she has cancer. She needs Norton right now. She looks so happy and excited. The receptionist escorts them to the offices in the back. They’re in there for fifteen minutes or so, and then the family comes back out, Norton snuggled in the girl’s arms.

  “Isn’t Princess beautiful, Mommy?”

  Oh, she is that.

  After they leave I can’t get out of the chair. My legs won’t move. I’ll have to stay here for the rest of my life. Fortunately, Austin comes around the corner and realizes what’s going on. He calmly takes my arm and escorts me to one of the offices and closes the door.

  “Why didn’t you tell me she had cancer? I feel like a selfish jerk.”

  “That is exactly what I didn’t want.”

  Now I can cry in peace. Austin holds me while I do.

  “Let it out,” he whispers.

  Bad move, Austin. I’ll be here for hours; I have a lot to let out. But Austin doesn’t seem to be in any hurry, so I take him at his word and bawl about everything: Norton; my parents; my loneliness; my job; my idiotic behaviour where Austin’s concerned; my obsessive need to control the universe; my lousy diet; my broken, broken nose; my thick ankle…the list is endless.

  When I can’t cry anymore, he sits me in the chair and bends down to look at me eye to eye.

  “You passed my test.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me I was having a test? I would’ve studied.”

  “You let go of something you loved. You thought about someone other than yourself.”

  “Not really. Norton howled at the door. If she hadn’t I’d probably still have her.”

  He takes my hands in his own. “Just once, will you give yourself some credit?”

  “I wish you’d kiss me.”

  And he does. Oh, how he does. It’s gettin
g much too steamy in this little office and we realize it at the same time.

  “I’ll come to your place tonight,” he says.

  “I can’t wait.”

  “You’re not going to change your mind?”

  “No.”

  When I finally tear myself away from those marvellous lips, I hop in the car and head straight to a lingerie store, because that’s what women in love do, on television anyway. The girl picks something out for me because I’m flummoxed with the choices available.

  I have candles on the coffee table in the living room (since I can’t use the kitchen table for obvious reasons), a frozen pizza in the oven, red wine in glasses, and music playing. My sexy lingerie is on under my jeans and silk blouse and my fabulous bedroom is on high alert, with luxurious, un-frayed sheets at the ready.

  At ten o’clock, the pizza is burnt, the candles are out, the wine is gone, and the music CD was biffed across the room an hour ago. I refuse to call or text him like a pathetic needy female.

  At eleven I get a text.

  I’m sorry.

  “You’ve given me the wrong file again.” Dexter hands me a manila folder and I pass him another one. “That’s not it either.”

  “Find it yourself, then.”

  “My office.”

  I follow him into the office and I know the drill. He sits down, I sit down. He leans forward with a concerned look on his face, and I fold my arms and sulk for a minute.

  “Austin stood me up.”

  “Did he explain why?”

  “He sent me a text saying he was sorry. Sorry for not coming? Sorry for not liking me anymore? Sorry he missed out on pizza? What?”

  “You need to be patient with him.”

  “Figures you’d take his side.”

  “There are no sides. You both had a traumatic year. Let your life happen gradually; you’ll always be disappointed if you’re too rigid with a self-imposed timeline. You are much too serious for your own good. Be flexible. Be mushy. Be a limp noodle.”

  “You are never going to become a famous psychiatrist if that’s the sort of advice you dole out.”