“I called you because my birthday wish is screwing up my life—again,” Phil snapped. “I’m fighting with my fiancé, I’m about to lose my job, and I hurt some people who are very close to me because I can’t stop saying what I think.”
“Well, that is what you wished for,” her fairy godmother sniffed. “I wish I could really speak my mind,” she parroted in an exact imitation of Phil’s own voice. “I didn’t think it was a particularly intelligent wish myself. But then, I don’t make up these wishes, I just grant them.” She waved her silver wand to illustrate her point and Phil had to slap at the sparks it dripped onto the VW’s seat.
“I just wanted to be able to stand up for myself,” she protested angrily. “I didn’t mean that I wanted every single thought in my head to come straight out of my mouth.”
“Well then, you should have worded your request more carefully,” her fairy godmother snapped back. “And now I suppose you want me to fix it.”
Phil’s mouth got the better of her. “Damn right I want you to fix it! You need to reverse this wish right now—before my life is completely ruined by your incompetence.” She regretted her hasty words as soon as she said them. As inept and irritating as her fairy godmother was, there was no point in antagonizing her. But with the wish controlling her mouth, there was no helping it.
“Well!” The FG fanned her mother of pearl wings in agitation, causing a small hurricane inside the bug that whipped the loose strands of Phil’s hair into her eyes. “Of all the horrid, disgusting, ungrateful—”
“Look, I’m sorry,” Phil said. “But I can’t help what I say! Your magic seems to have removed all the filters between my brain and my mouth. Please just reverse the wish. Please?”
“All right.” Her fairy godmother lifted her chin and a strange glitter came into her silvery eyes. “Granted,” she said in a very unpleasant voice. “Your wish is hereby reversed. Now don’t bother me again!” Phil felt the all-over Pop Rocks in Diet Coke tingling sensation of a granted wish. Then the FG vanished with another puff of pink smoke and a nasty laugh leaving nothing behind her but the odor of burnt rose petals lingering in the air.
Granted. Her wish had been granted. Phil breathed a cautious sigh of relief, then decided she’d better test it out first. Closing her eyes, she thought of what she really thought of her fairy godmother which included some of the filthiest four letter words she knew and waited to start shouting her thoughts out. But no, to her intense relief, her lips stayed shut. She opened her eyes. She was cured. But wait—did that mean that she was back to having a lamb-like temperament too?
Phil closed her eyes again and remembered her last argument with Christian. Should she have dropped her dinner plans with Nana and her sisters and Josh to go to her fiancé’s party? Did she have an overwhelming urge to go apologize for ruining his night? She frowned, feeling upset all over again. Hell no. And no to giving up law school, too. And no to putting off the wedding… Well, maybe that could wait for a little while. She and Christian needed to do some serious talking before they walked down the aisle. But at least she didn’t feel the need to apologize for everything she’d said and try to smooth things over.
And in the mean time, it looked like she was cured of her foot-in-mouth disease. And she had retained the ability to think for herself. Great!
Phil fairly skipped up the stairs to her apartment. She knew what she would find when she opened the door. Christian would be sitting up waiting for her, no doubt worried that she had been out so long after midnight. They would sit on the couch and talk late into the night, the way they had when they were first dating. Phil would explain quietly, and with tact, all of her concerns and her fiancé would listen to her—really listen, she was sure. Then they would come to an agreement about the future and she would find out all their fights about her going to law school had been based on a big misunderstanding. Probably he had been trying to offer her what he thought was a better life than the one she had planned for herself and he had just expressed himself badly. After all, Christian was a man and men were always saying the wrong thing, weren’t they? And after the last day and a half she certainly knew how that felt.
She unlocked the front door, ready to fall into her fiancé’s arms. But he wasn’t there. He wasn’t sitting in the living room waiting for her and he wasn’t making pot after pot of coffee worrying about her, either. When Phil found him, he was snoring on his side of the bed.
“Christian?” She patted him lightly on the arm. “Christian, I’m home. I’m sorry dinner ran late.”
“Hmph.” He rolled over in his sleep and exhaled in her face. Phil jerked back—his breath was thick with Scotch fumes. Well, so much for the idea of him worrying about her, she thought sourly.
She sighed and went in the bathroom to catch a quick shower before bed. Well, at least she was back to normal now. They could talk things out in the morning.
Chapter Twenty-One
But in the morning when she rolled over, Christian’s side of the bed was cold. Phil fumbled around until she found a note on his pillow. Early meeting at the office. See you tonight. Christian.
She read the note twice before crumpling it into a ball and throwing it across the room. Now that her thinking out loud problem was cured, she wanted to sit down and talk to her fiancé like rational adults. Her feelings for him had changed significantly in the past several months and that scared her. She wanted to know that he was scared too. She wanted reassurance that things were going to be all right. She wanted to hear Christian say he loved her so she could remind herself that she still loved him too. Was that so much to ask?
Phil got up and was halfway to the front door to get the paper by force of habit when she stopped in her tracks. Christian wasn’t here so why should she fetch his paper? Let Mrs. Tessenbacker have it for once. But no…if she did that, all the ground she’d won yesterday would be lost. Better get it after all.
Sighing, Phil opened the door and looked out. Sure enough, the paper was there, unmolested by either Mrs. Tessenbacker’s sticky fingers or her nasty little dog’s urine. All was right in the world. Phil was just reaching out to take it when she heard a slight creaking. Looking up, she saw Mrs. Tessenbacker’s beady little eye staring at her through the crack of the door.
“Good morning, Mrs. Tessenbacker,” she said, relieved that she felt no need to express any of the thoughts she was currently having about her cheap, thieving neighbor out loud.
Mrs. Tessenbacker made a noise like hrmph and started to shut her door. But then, to Phil’s surprise, she opened it instead and came out into the hall. Doodle-bug danced out behind her yipping and growling at her feet. She stood out in front of Phil’s front door and put her hands on her broad hips.
“Cheap, she calls me,” she said loudly, frowning at Phil. “And says my little Doodle-bug smells!”
“Please, Mrs. Tessenbacker, keep it down!” Phil looked up and down the hall at the other apartment doors to see if anyone was coming out to see what the racket was about.
“But you don’t understand what my life was like,” her elderly neighbor continued loudly. “I came up during the Depression. Never enough food, my father couldn’t keep a job, so if there was anything to take, we took it.”
“Um…okay.” Phil crossed her arms over her chest, hoping Mrs. Tessenbacker’s personal version of The Grapes of Wrath wouldn’t take too long. “I’m sorry you had a hard childhood. But I really don’t see how that has to do with you taking my paper instead of buying your own.”
“We took it!” Mrs. Tessenbacker insisted loudly, as though Phil hadn’t spoken at all. “And that’s why I still take things. Your paper, fruit at the grocery store, aspirin at the drugstore…”
“Um…Are you trying to tell me you’re a…a shoplifter?” Phil stared at her blankly. Why in the world would her neighbor tell her such a thing?
Mrs. Tessenbacker’s tiny, beady eyes grew wide and she shook her head vigorously. She had a miserable look on her face and yet she seemed
compelled to keep talking.
“I can’t help myself,” she went on. “I just get such a thrill when I take something that belongs to someone else and put it in my pocketbook. It’s like a little trophy, reminding me I can take anything I want and no one will know.”
Phil looked at her neighbor, at a loss for words. Apparently Mrs. Tessenbacker wasn’t just a shoplifter—she was a kleptomaniac. Phil made a mental note never to invite her in for coffee or tea.
“I, uh, have to get ready for work,” she said, before Mrs. Tessenbacker could reveal any other embarrassing personal details. She was inching back into her apartment when Mrs. Tessenbacker let loose again.
“I’m an old lady!” she bugled and at her feet, Doodle-bug began to howl. “Nobody ever suspects an old lady. I take what I want when I want it and nobody can stop me!”
“Goodbye Mrs. Tessenbacker.” Phil shut the door hastily and stood with her back to it. Had her elderly neighbor finally cracked? Why else would she stand in the hallway and shout out her darkest secrets for everybody to hear? Phil wondered for a moment if she should call someone…but who? Social Services? The local mental institution? The police? She supposed she could alert them that a not-so-dangerous criminal was living in her apartment building and had given a full confession.
Phil sighed. She should just get dressed and go to the dreaded HR review. Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about embarrassing herself. Poor Mrs. Tessenbacker. Maybe after she had her morning meds she’d be feeling more like herself. As she got ready for work, Phil wondered if that was really such a good thing.
She got to the BB&D parking lot just as a lot of other people were pulling up and it took every bit of nerve she possessed to get out of the car. At least Alison hadn’t parked in her space this time, she noted as she pulled in. There was John Nash from accounting, Terri Sanchez from billing, and Hector who worked in the mail room. They all gave her sidelong glances as she locked the bug’s door and started her long walk to the elevator. Phil was sure that by now everyone in the entire law firm had heard about her rampage the day before and must be wondering the same thing she was wondering—if she was going to get fired or not. But she kept her chin high and kept on walking—or she would have, anyway, if she hadn’t seen the little blind pencil boy.
He was standing in his usual place by one of the concrete pillars, jingling his pencil cup as always, a wide, appealing grin on his face. He hadn’t seen Phil yet and she stopped short and stared at him. Well, the kid had guts, she had to give him that. Still, it irked her that he would have the nerve to come back here after she had exposed him the day before. He had a new, expensive-looking pair of sunglasses on his face and she wondered what brand they were—Foster Grants?
She thought about confronting him, but then she thought better of it. The management of BB&D were already aware of the scene she’d had with the little blind pencil boy the day before and she really didn’t need to make another one. As much as it burned her up to see him brazenly taking advantage of people, Phil decided to keep her head down and keep moving.
She saw the pencil boy flinch when he recognized her. God, how could she have ever bought his act? Phil was dimly aware that other people were watching her as she passed him. They’re waiting to see if I’ll do it again. Waiting to see if I’m crazy. Vultures.
Phil was doubly glad that her birthday wish had been reversed now. The uncharitable things she was thinking about her coworkers were definitely not anything she wanted to say aloud. The pencil boy had something to say, though. As she passed him, he yelled,
“All right! I’m not blind!”
Phil stopped in her tracks, startled, and turned to face him. She saw John and Terri and Hector do the same.
“I’m not! I’m not blind! There’s nothing wrong with my eyes. I’m not even nearsighted!” the pencil boy repeated in a loud voice, looking wildly at Phil. “But this is the best paying gig I’ve ever had. I can make over a hundred dollars a day this way and I don’t have to work at no fucking hamburger shack to do it—all I have to do it look sad and pathetic.”
Phil couldn’t think of a thing to say. Terri, who was a tall thin woman with a knife blade of a nose, came back to stand in front of him.
“What are you saying?” she asked, frowning. “I’ve been buying two or three pencils a week from you for years. And I gave you fifty dollars at Christmas. Are you telling me you’re not sight impaired at all?”
“No, I’m not.” The pencil boy looked so upset Phil was almost tempted to feel sorry for him. What was going on here?
John and Hector had wandered back as well and were staring at the pencil boy. “What the hell?” John, who was built like a linebacker was frowning like a thundercloud.
“Yeah—why are you telling us this?” Hector demanded.
“I…I don’t know.” The pencil boy dropped his cup with a clatter and pencils and change went rolling all over the concrete. The look on his face almost reminded Phil of herself the day before, when she’d been forced to say everything she thought out loud.
“Hey, what—?” Terri began but the pencil boy broke and ran, dodging around concrete barriers and leaping over parking bumps in a display that proved he had been telling the truth.
“Hey, look at him go!” John shouted, pointing as the boy hopped on his bike and sped away. “Damn it! He’s about as blind as I am. And I’ve been buying those fucking pencils of his for years now.”
“Me too!” Hector looked almost as upset as John and Terri. Phil fled past them to the elevator, her heart pounding hard against her ribs. A terrible feeling was growing in her chest. First Mrs. Tessenbacker had shouted out something she would no doubt have rather kept hidden, and now the pencil boy had outted himself, too. Both of them were acting exactly as she had been the day before when she couldn’t stop saying what was on her mind. It was almost as though they were being forced to reveal their private thoughts when Phil came near them.
It couldn’t be! Phil jabbed the close door button on the elevator, thankful that her coworkers were still too busy discussing the con artist pencil boy to join her in the elevator.
Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to think. Her fairy godmother had reversed her birthday wish so that she no longer had to tell everyone she saw exactly what she was thinking and how she felt about them. So why were the people around her suddenly having the same problem she’d had?
Phil pressed her fingers to her temples, thinking frantically as the elevator climbed higher. She remembered the unpleasant glint in her fairy godmother’s eye and the nasty tone of her laughter. What exactly had she said to Phil before she disappeared? “Your wish is hereby reversed!“ That was it, that was the word she had been searching for—reversed!
Her fairy godmother had screwed her again—this time on purpose because she was pissed off at Phil for speaking her mind. Instead of Phil feeling the overwhelming need to spew her innermost thoughts and feelings at the people around her, now they, whoever she was in physical proximity to, would feel the exact same urge. Everyone around her was going to be compelled to speak their minds.
“Oh, God,” Phil moaned. What a nightmare! She knew the vindictive FG had known exactly what Phil wanted when she asked to have the wish reversed. All Phil had been asking was to be able to keep her thoughts about other people inside her head instead of saying them out loud. But the fairy godmother had used the ambiguous wording to literally reverse the wish and make Phil’s life even more difficult.
Phil wanted to kick herself. She should have spelled things out to the letter instead of leaving such a gaping hole for the magic to do as it pleased. Now she was stuck in an office full of people she had told off, cussed out, and in the case of Davis Miles, sexually harassed the day before. People who would feel compelled to say exactly what they thought of her right to her face. Oh God, it was going to be worse than high school.
Phil was about to press the down button and get the hell out of Dodge when the elevator dinged and the doors opened
on her floor. She dared to stick her head out and saw Josh passing by, a worried look on his usually calm face. Oh no—what if he felt compelled to say something awful to her or admit some horrible secret she really didn’t want to know? Phil started to shrink back inside the elevator but it was too late—her best friend had already seen her.
“Swann!” He smiled at her but it was a distracted, worried smile that made her forget her own problems. For as long as she’d known him, Josh had been an easy going, almost unflappable guy. So the anxious look on his face must mean something was wrong—really wrong.
“Josh, what is it?” She caught his hand and pulled him around to face her. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s that obvious?” He ran his free hand through his rumpled hair and tried to laugh. He was wearing a deep maroon shirt with the top two buttons unbuttoned and his black tie was askew as always.
“To me it is.” Phil realized she was still holding his hand and let it go reluctantly. “So what happened?”
“Oh,” He blew out a breath. “It’s the server. Of all times for it to actually go down! I’ve been on it since I came in at seven this morning and I still can’t find the problem.” He lowered his voice. “The senior Dickhead has been chewing my ass like bubble gum. I feel like I’m gonna start pulling out my hair by the roots until I’m as bald as he is.”
“Don’t do it.” Phil tried to smile at him, wanting to cheer him up the same way he always cheered her up when she had problems. “I like your hair just the way it is. And you’d look awful at the beach party—a chrome dome in a Speedo.”
Josh chuckled but then his face fell. “Damn—the beach party. I forgot all about our plan to go shop for suits. I’m sorry, Swann, but if something doesn’t give, I don’t know if I can make it.”
Wishful Thinking Page 18