by J. S. Cooper
“Met who?” His eyes crinkled, and he leaned back and scratched his head.
“The Queen. Prince William’s grandmother,” I said slowly.
“I’ve never met her.” He spoke matter-of-factly.
“You haven’t?”
“Have you met the President?”
“Well no, but…”
“Why would you think I have met the Queen?” He laughed. “You Americans are all the same.”
“I take offense to that you know,” I pouted.
“Maybe you should take offense to your question.” He rolled his eyes and our banter was interrupted by the food being brought to the table. It looked gross. I was none too happy – Oliver was being rude, and I was hungry and wanted a burger and fries.
“This looks good, shall we tuck in?” He smiled at me cordially, and I was surprised at how quickly he had gotten over our little squabble. I was ready to keep it going. How dare he say that all Americans are the same? I didn’t say that all Brits had bad teeth and pale skin, did I? Hadn’t they heard of tanning salons? I mean, not everyone suited the English Rose look, if you asked me.
“So what do you do, Ollie?” I asked as I chewed on a Brussels sprout that tasted like nothing other than a Brussels sprout.
“I’m an artist.” He smiled at me, his eyes twinkling.
“Artist?”
“You know – like a painter.”
“Oh, nice.” I tried to think of some famous painters’ names to drop in.
“Do you like art?”
“Yeah. I loved Andy Warhol.” I thought of the one artist I knew was pretty poppy.
“He’s a popular artist.” He smiled. “I’m more of a Monet man myself.”
“Oh, I like money, as well.” I smiled.
“You like money?” He looked at me with a confused expression, and I felt myself blush.
“I mean, I like having a lot of money so I can support my favorite artists. You know, the indies.”
“The indies?” He raised an eyebrow at me.
“The talented but unknown artists, like you.” I beamed at him, and he laughed.
“I do imagine that certain philistines and ignoramuses haven’t heard of me.”
“What?” I had a feeling he had just insulted me, but he had spoken so quickly that I wasn’t sure if I had heard him correctly.
“Nothing.” He pointed at me. “So which indies do you support?”
“Ah, Blake Gayle.” The words tripped out of my mouth before I could think properly. “He’s famous in Los Angeles.”
“Huh.” Oliver frowned. “Never heard of him.” His hazel eyes sparkled. “I guess he’s not on the same level as Bradley Cooper in terms of fame.”
“No.” I looked down, embarrassed, hoping he wasn’t going to ask me about the whole debacle his sister had gotten me into.
“You’re a funny one, Maggie.” He chuckled to himself and pulled his phone out.
“Oh no, please tell me you’re not taking a photo of me for another tabloid,” I groaned. “I couldn’t take it if you were.”
“No, I wasn’t.” He grinned. “I just got a text message and wanted to respond to it.”
“Oh, sorry.” I wrinkled my nose. “My bad.”
“That’s okay. Want to go to the park?”
“What, now?” I put my fork down, happy to get away from the horrible meal.
“Yes, now.” He pulled out some notes, placed them on the table, and jumped up. “Let’s go.”
“Ooh.” I ran after him and left the restaurant, excited to go on an adventure with a handsome Brit. “So which park are we going to?”
“Did I say the park?” He grabbed my hand. “Let’s go to a museum.”
“Museum?”
“Yeah. You can show me the artists you like.”
“That sounds fun.” I groaned inside. I couldn’t imagine anything romantic happening in a museum. Not like in a park. He could grab me and give me a big kiss in the park. Or we could snog. That’s English for kiss. But snog sounded a lot cooler.
“Or we could go to the trocadero.”
“What’s the trocadero?” I was worried it was going to be something academic.
“A computer arcade.”
“Fun. Let’s go to the trocadero.”
“Awesome. Maybe we’ll see some stars.”
“Do you think so?” I said eagerly, leaning towards him.
He laughed. “You really are an LA girl, aren’t you?”
“Kinda,” I sighed.
“What’s wrong, Maggie?” He pulled me to the side of the busy street and looked at me in concern. “You’ve seem a bit worried. You okay?”
I wanted to tell him about what had happened the night before with Blake, but even I wasn’t that stupid. I knew that would be the end of any possible relationship between us, if I went on about my ex-boyfriend. “I’m fine, thanks.” I faked a smile and he grabbed my hand.
“Just because you’re not blonde and skinny doesn’t mean you’re not a fabulous girl, Maggie.” Ollie’s voice was earnest, and he looked at me in concern. I looked up at him in shock at his words. How dare he say I wasn’t skinny! Guys aren’t meant to say things like that. “You’re prettier than most of those plastic ladies anyway,” he continued before I could talk.
“I, uh, I’m not sure what to say.” I wasn’t sure if I felt happy or mad at his comments.
“I want you to know that I like you because you aren’t the typical LA bimbo.”
“Yeah.” I frowned. “Wait, did you say you liked me?”
“Yeah.” He grinned and kissed my cheek. “Hey, I’m sorry but I’ve got to go. My sister needs me.”
“Oh, but what about the trocadero?” I looked at him with my best pouty face. “I thought we were going to play video games.”
“Sorry, Maggie,” he said distractedly. “Maybe next week.”
“I’ll be in Paris next week!” I shouted at him. He looked up at me and smiled then and whispered in my ear. “I guess I’ll be going to France as well.” And with that, he was gone. I watched him walk away with a huge grin on my face.
There was something about Oliver that was soo perfect; yet I hadn’t really appreciated some of the things he had said to me, and I didn’t really appreciate the way he had left me. I tried to brush the doubts out of my mind. What else did I have? Blake had dumped me and then ditched me. I felt tears well up in my eyes. I missed Blake. I wanted to call him and have everything go back to the way it used to be. I wanted to be his Maggie Moo-moo, and trust me, that was the first time I’d ever thought that.
I sighed as I walked along the street and back to the bus stop. I didn’t have anything to do but go back to the hotel. As I waited at the bus stop, inspiration hit me. I had a new idea for a book, one that I honestly felt would work well. And the best part was, I was excited to write it. I scribbled down notes on a napkin I found in my purse and then started jotting down some notes on my hand as I ran out of space on the napkin.
My stomach was grumbling as I got off the bus, but I walked past the McDonald’s and Fish-N-Chips shop quickly. Ollie’s words had really hurt me. I knew he thought he was being nice, but his comment about me not being skinny had hit a bone. It wasn’t as if I didn’t know I wasn’t skinny. Of course I did. But hearing those words come out of a handsome man made me feel awkward and bad. I decided to stop in a Marks & Spencer’s instead and got myself an egg sandwich on whole wheat bread and a Ribena. I knew I should have just gotten water, but I had fallen in love with the English drink and decided I needed a little treat.
I ran to my room when I got to the hotel and sat on my bed typing late into the night. My brain was so excited with my idea that it didn’t grow tired at all. And I was happy to see that I had gotten 5,000 words written down by the time I decided to go to sleep. I lay in bed smiling for a while until I realized that Blake hadn’t come in to see me at all. Not even to check up on me. As I curled over and went to sleep, I felt dullness in my heart that I had never felt
before.
13
Dear Diary,
There is a point in life where everyone grows up. Some people do it when they are 21, some are 10, and some are 40. You never know until that moment hits you and you think, WTF am I doing with my life? I had that moment today. I’ve been a real idiot, and I’m not sure what I’m going to do to fix everything.
I woke up in a bad mood. I was mad that Blake hadn’t come to say goodnight or check to see that I was okay. What an asshole he was. It made me question if he had ever truly been interested in me. I started to wonder if he had been using me. Maybe he had only pretended to like me and had become my boyfriend just so he could take me to bed.
I had gotten myself so flustered and upset by the time I went in the shower that I bumped my head against the wall as I dropped the soap and accidentally shaved some skin off my leg. “I hate you, Blake,” I mumbled under my breath as I brushed my hair. I tried to think of a way I could annoy him and hurt him just as much as he had hurt me. Or at least, think of a way to see if he had ever really and truly cared for me.
I sat on my bed and pouted as I waited for him to come knock on my door for breakfast. It was 10 a.m. when I finally realized he wasn’t coming. I called down to the front desk to see if he had left a message for me, but there was nothing. I then logged into my email on my iPad and all I saw was a bunch of credit card bills. I sighed and closed my email and lay back on my bed with tears welling in my eyes. I was not going to cry. I had to make a plan. I needed to see if Blake really did like me or not. I had dreamt of Blake all night long, and I knew without a doubt that he was the one for me.
How could he not be, with everything we had gone through together? I just needed to know whether I should move on or fight for him. I was lying on the bed with a growling stomach when an idea hit me. Maybe I would bring Ollie around and wait in the lobby so Blake would see us when he came in. If he were jealous, then it would mean that he really did care about me; but if he didn’t seem to care at all, that would mean that he just wasn’t really that into me. I wasn’t sure if my plan was smart or foolproof, but it was a way for me to see how much I meant to him, in the easiest way possible.
First things first, I needed to go to the gym. I ignored my growling stomach and threw on a T-shirt and pair of shorts. I called down to the front desk to find out where the gym was, and then made my way up to the penthouse floor. I felt excited to be going to the gym. For once, I was doing this for me. Well kinda. For me and for Blake. I opened the door to the gym and held my head up high. I was expecting to see a bunch of hot businessmen working out, but instead, an old granny walking on a treadmill greeted me.
“Hi,” I smiled as I got onto the treadmill next to her.
“Hi, dear.” She smiled back at me. “I hope you don’t mind, I’m watching Trisha.”
“Trisha?” I looked at the TV screen and saw a show I didn’t recognize. I watched it for a bit and laughed. “Oh, she’s the English Maury.”
“Yes, dear,” she laughed. “Maury’s on next.”
“Oh, he is?” I started the treadmill and laughed. “Hopefully one of them will be the father today.”
“Here’s to hoping,” she laughed, and I grinned back at her. This granny was making me feel like an Olympian. As she walked at 1.5 miles an hour, I felt like a Kenyan, walking at 3.0 miles per hour. I almost felt guilty for showing her up. Even though there was no one else in the room with us.
“So, are you an American, dear?” She peered at me as I changed the speed to 3.1 miles.
“Yes. I’m from Los Angeles.”
“Where all the stars live?” she grinned at me.
“Yeah, though I don’t really know any.” I paused. “Well, I kinda nearly did.”
“Oh?”
“My old boss and I were nearly on TV,” I sighed. “But not for anything good.”
“Oh. I dare say you’ll get something better.” She smiled at me gently.
“I’m a writer.” I felt myself opening up. “Well, I’m trying to be. It’s my life’s goal. Only, I can’t seem to finish a book. And now my boyfriend has gone and dumped me. And I left my job. And now this cute English guy said I’m not skinny.”
“Oh, dear. This does sound like an episode of Corrie, doesn’t it?” She paused her treadmill and turned towards me. “What say we go and get a cuppa and have a talk?”
“Er, yeah.” I smiled at her widely, hoping my beam would hide my confusion. I had no idea what Corrie or a cuppa was. “Can I just finish on the treadmill first?” I asked politely.
“Of course, dear. Let’s watch Trisha and Maury and then go reward ourselves with a cuppa tea and some biscuits.”
“Ah, yeah, that sounds good.” My stomach growled loudly and I blushed. “I’m Maggie, by the way.”
“I’m Anne. Anne Parker.”
“Nice to meet you, Anne.” All of sudden I felt like a second wind had passed through me and I started running on the treadmill, my sneakers were going faster than the track was moving, so I bumped it up to 4.0 miles. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to keep up for very long and had to pause it while I caught my breath.
“Dearie me, Maggie, you are going fast. I feel like I’m next to a track star here.” Anne giggled, and I smiled widely at her.
“Sorry, I am training for a marathon.” I paused and sighed. “Well, not really, but I kinda was, last year. It’s a long story.”
“Did you do it?”
“No.” I looked at her with a shamed face. “I feel like I say that a lot lately. I’m always saying something, but it never seems to be true.”
“Aw, dearie, we all go through something like that.”
“I’m such a loser.” I felt tears falling from my eyes. “Such a loser.”
“You don’t look like a loser to me, honey.” Anne stopped her treadmill and drank some water.
“I’m just a big fat liar.” Please say I’m not fat, I pleaded in my mind.
“Oh, dearie. You are a beautiful young lady. I think you are just a bit troubled, my dear.”
I frowned and looked at her. “Do you think I’m mental?”
“Oh dear, not mental,” she smiled. “Trust me, I know mental. My brother was in an institute for ten years.” She paused. “I think you’ve just got to that point in your life where you are wondering what you’re doing in life. We all get there, my dear. At some point, we all get there.”
“So what should I do?” I cried out.
“Only you know the answer to that, honey.”
“I was going to try and make him jealous with the other guy.”
“Is that really a good idea?”
“No.” I laughed through my sobs. “No I don’t think it is.”
“Good girl. I think you’re growing up.”
“I don’t want to grow up.” I frowned and wiped away my tears. “I just want Blake to love me like I love him.”
“You love the young man?”
“Yes,” I gulped. “Yes, I think I do.” It hit me like a ton of bricks. I loved Blake. I wanted him to love me. I wanted him to be mine forever. And the father of my children. And I’d pushed him away. “He liked me even when I wasn’t skinny.” I laughed. “And I mean more not skinny than I am now.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know.” I got off the treadmill and sighed. “I don’t think using Ollie to make him jealous is the answer.”
“Wait a second, Maggie.” Anne smiled at me. “Jealousy is a good way for a man to realize his true feelings for a woman.”
“But wouldn’t that be considered playing games?” I frowned.
“Depends on what you do.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the door. “Now let’s go change and then grab a cuppa and figure out a way for you to get your young man.”
“That sounds like a good idea to me,” I smiled brightly at her, happy that once and for all, I was going to be an adult and find out if Blake wanted to be with me forever.
14
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br /> Dear Diary,
My new friend Anne Parker is bossing me around like she is my evil stepmother. At times she seems to be nice and sweet, but she keeps throwing in little barbs at me that make me think she doesn’t necessarily have my best interests at heart. She spied on me when I went to go meet up with Oliver in Selfridges (a store much more impressive than Macy’s) and made a comment that she was surprised that I could have gotten such a hot man. I thought she was quite rude.
“Go and get me some tea and sandwiches,” Anne ordered me as soon as Oliver had walked to the restroom.
“Can’t you do that yourself?” I frowned at her. “I think it will look funny if Oliver sees me bringing you something, seeing how I don’t know you.”
“I guess I can go myself, but I try not to walk too much in my old age.”
“Anne, what are you talking about? I met you at the gym.”
“Oh, you youngsters,” she moaned and stood up.
I turned away quickly as I saw Oliver walking back to the table. “That was fast.” I smiled at him, feeling guilty.
“You know us men,” he laughed. “I had a great time today, Maggie. Thanks for calling me to come meet you.”
“Oh, I’m just happy you could come at the last moment.” And frankly, I was surprised he had answered his phone. I hadn’t thought our last date had gone so well.
“How could I say no to my American friend?” he laughed.
