Mint to Be Loved

by Elias Raven

  Smooth as silk Rastafarian music was quietly pumped into the store. It was upscale nuevo with a hint of spice. Not quite origin in sound, but workable for the masses nonetheless. We all swayed and danced as we were led into the sugar maze working our way toward the Golden Kiosk of Bliss that had the pay here sign glowing in red, green yellow and black at the end. In between were shelves and displays and samples of every color and size and flavor and it was like my stomach had suddenly expanded and I was the little green ghost Slimer from Ghostbusters preparing to eat EVERYTHING in my path. I was chocolate Godzilla bringing flame and fury to all that luscious chocolate. Ok, maybe my mind was a little off the beaten path there. Well actually I had left the path and thrown myself into the Wonka River Of Pure Imagination at this point. Luckily, my mom had told me to dig my nails into my palms whenever the reality train was leaving and at some point in this journey I was going to have to inquire about a new prescription for Valium to calm me down like it did mom, but I digress!

  So we waited and moved and finally after crossing the great desert of candy, we got to the order counter and I blurted out my order before any of the girls could speak.

  “Three dozen double dipped dyno-mints with a side of mixed chocolate dip!” I blurted out.

  (I know I know what is a double dipped dyno-mint you ask is? Try chocolate thin mint cookies, dipped in milk chocolate, and white chocolate with a side of mixed chocolate dip that I swear is the second coming of bliss! It’s that good!)

  The girls all started laughing and I turned to them rather abashed and said:

  “What? You know how much I love this place!” I exclaimed feigning innocence.

  Rachelle, the girl behind the counter laughed along with my friends. Then she leaned over like she was about to let the cat out of the bag.

  “Don’t worry, we won’t tell Raffi that you might have a dyno-mint problem, but if it does get out of hand, call our 800 number for assistance,” she said giggling.

  I took my proffered bag of heaven from her hands and thanked her and then tried to be nonchalant although every fiber of my being was screaming at me to rip open the bag and down the three dozen like a boss!

  Sarah and Kathy knew when I got the left eye twitch going that I needed chocolate stat. My mom took us over to the coffee bar to get Ghirardelli’s hot chocolate with the whip (just to add insult to injury and white chocolate sprinkles for the kill, while I about dug a hole to China in my hand trying not to come out of my skin) and then we went out onto the sidewalk cafe seating area (that had a Parisian feel to it) and all settled down with our chocolate prizes. Taking our seats on the ornate wrought iron chairs, we cracked open the seals to paradise and listened to the howls of banshees as our inner chocolate demons were let loose upon an unsuspecting city.

  Now at this point, you might suspect the four of us have a chocolate addiction, but the reality is that it’s me. Yep, I’m the one that needs rehab. I would just as soon cut a bitch then share my chocolate, but mama is the patron saint of mothers, and “SHE” was the one that had turned us all onto Raffi’s, so if anyone is a chocolate crack dealer, that would be my mom. The other girls are more periodic binge chocolatiers, but I have to count how many I am having and make sure that I don’t go over the line and trigger early-onset diabetes. Well that and getting too large and not fitting into my clothes anymore might trigger a Dr. Phil intervention and lord knows, I don’t want to spring that docudrama on an unsuspecting population. I could see the TV blurb now.

  “Tonight on Dr. Phil, can you become a chocolate addict and how far down the dark alleyways of addiction will you go. Meet Paige…”

  Then it cuts to Steve, the host of “White Trash TV” and there I am in a 12 x 48 foot long Alabama Mansion (Single Wide Paradise) nearly homeless and disowned by everyone, living with my dog asshole because he forgets to use the puddle pads and all of this over a little chocolate.

  Mom’s finger-snapping breaks my reverie.

  “Are you done eating Paige? We should probably get home, I’m sure Harold is starving and you girls have a big day tomorrow at The Morgan,” she said.

  I just shook my head and acted like I was clearing water out of my ears, then I looked at my mom and said:

  “Yep, big day, done with chocolate (for now… I thought ominously.), and what’s for dinner!?” All came out in one fluid sentence of blah!

  My mom and the girls just did a double and then they went for the triple take and shook their heads.

  “Girl, you need to lay off those double dippers!” Kathy said.

  “I don’t think it’s only the chocolate that’s distracting her Kathy,” Sarah whispered.

  “No?” Kathy said.

  We got up from the table and picked up the remnants of chocolate and clothing and headed back toward Sarah’s waiting Beetle Limousine. The girls let my mom get a little ahead and then whispered to me.

  “No, she’s thinking of Professor Chocolate’s banana,” they said laughing.

  At that, I pretended anger and chased my friends to the car laughing the whole time. My mom just shrugged her shoulders and looked at all of us when she got to the car.

  “There are some things a mother shouldn’t know.” was all she said and left it hanging which made us girls laugh even more.

  The drive home was glorious. Between the laughter and the sunset over the harbor, it was a memory that was burned into my conscious mind. I didn’t want that time to end with us girls, but time waits for no one, and tomorrow was my beginning into a new life.

  Chapter 10

  I woke to the sound of Mr. Blue Sky (yes from E.L.O. if you were wondering) blasting from my phone. I reached over and hit the snooze button. Now, I was going to increment myself to death. At some point, my mother was going to yell up the stairs for me to get a move on, but now that the moment of truth was on hand, well… I was a little nervous. This was it! I could feel the butterflies moving in my stomach and all those thousands of hours of study and tests and finally I had the Golden Fleece (whoops wrong book and movie) I meant diploma to stick on my cubicle wall. The alarm sounded again, but this time it was blasting Good Morning Good Morning (yep, The Beatles), but this time I shut the alarm off. I rolled out of bed and stepped to the window looking sexy as hell in my flannel nighty and reaching down, I pulled the curtain aside and with determination (you have to have that when gearing up a dramatic moment) I released the paper shade.

  With a loud thwapping sound, it rolled itself up, then dislodged itself from the metal holder above the window (because it was put in with teeny tiny nails by yours truly in a moment of creative Zen-like decorative flourish) and springing forth off the wall (have you seen the metal brackets that hold these things on?) like a crazed bat (best I could come up with) the rod plummeted down off the window and bonked me right on the head, then fell on my barefoot. I just stood there in startled silence as the sunlight blazed through the window and my neighbor Mr. Johnson looking as startled as me, stared from his bedroom window (no he is not a perv, he is quite nice really, just half-blind and probably looking for his teeth) and then waved rather awkwardly as the pain finally registered in my brain and I let loose a lovely scream that sent him scurrying from his window and brought my mother running up the stairs, where she burst open (almost kicked it by golly) my bedroom door with a WTF look on her face.

  Now mind you my mother is quite the detective. She quickly gathered the visual evidence, that would be me jumping up and down holding my foot, the paper sash lying in a heap on the floor and the knot that was growing on my head exponentially (like a golden goose) announcing to the whole world that I Paige was not going to have a good day.

  “Is she ok?” Dad yelled.

  “Yep, I need ice and the first aid kit out of the hall closet, and can you also grab some Tylenol? She’s going to need it.” my mother yelled back.

  I could hear shuffling as my dad dutifully executed the task assigned and after about five minutes, the house phone started ringing.

&nb
sp; “I’ll get it!” yelled my dad.

  “Hello… Yes? Yes?” I could hear from the hallway.

  “Hunny! I need that stuff stat!” mom yelled.

  After a moment, my father looking chagrined came into the room bearing medical goodness. Now at this point, I am sitting on the bed because my mom gave me the look and pointed for me to sit, so I did. My foot has a nice slash across it where the wooden dowel had landed and my head had a nice goose egg rising from the middle (yes, you can say it. I looked like a junior unicorn). My father did a double-take and shook his head and turning left the room mumbling:

  “I love you Hunny. I’m so sorry you didn’t inherit my cat-like reflexes,” he said softly.

  “Ha-ha dad!” I replied.

  “Honey, who was that on the phone,” my mom inquires at my father’s retreating form.

  “Mrs. Johnson. She said that Paige gave Mr. Johnson quite the show this morning!” he said deadpan.

  My mom looked at me and I looked at her and held my hand up and said:

  “Wait! I was fully clothed and everything! It was like I was trying to surprise you with a Carpe Diem moment, but that lasted all of a minute when the blind ruthlessly attacked me (ninja fruit style). Mr. J was coincidentally at his bedroom window when I was standing in front of mine, but I didn’t like flash the old guy or anything. The last thing I need is Mrs. J coming over here with a rolling pin and calling me a floozy or homewrecker or something!” I blurted out before my mom could say a word.

  My mom just looked at me and held her finger to her lips. That meant Shut Up Paige my heads hurting and I haven’t even had coffee yet!

  Fifteen minutes later, I could hear the alarm in my parents’ room go off. I looked at the clock and realized I was going to be late for my first day at work and my girls (Kathy and Sarah) were going to be ringing the doorbell any minute to pick up yours truly who had just given Mr. J a peep show and wasn’t even dressed for success yet.

  Beep Beep! The sound of get a move on came from the driveway. Mom moved like a Kung Fu star and was tossing me clothes out of the closet and putting me together with a speed I hadn’t seen since grammar school (yep late for the bus, how did you guess?). The next sound we heard was the doorbell and my dad moved across the wood floors with bear-like grace (man he could rattle the house with the heavy footsteps) and opened it to a:

  “Good Morning! Where is Paige?” and just as my mom had finished pulling the brush through my hair, throwing a tweed cap on top of my head and putting my glasses on she said,“ta-da,” into the air.

  “Coming,” I yelled and grabbed my purse and laptop bag, I flew (ok hobbled, remember the foot) down the stairs, where I was warmly greeted by parent and friend alike.

  “Girl, we are going to be late!” Kathy chimed in.

  Before I could blink I was yanked through the front door and tossed into the Sarah Mobile (Volkswagen Beetle Juice, hey that has a nice ring to it).

  My phone buzzed in my purse. I looked down and rolled my eyes. The girls were talking excitedly about our first day. It took about five minutes for me to carefully pull up my hat and gingerly feel around the top of my head. At least the swelling was going down.

  “How did you get that bruise on your forehead?” asked Sarah.

  I pulled down the visor and looked at my face. Lovely, I looked like I had just been smacked with a ruler (that’s for another story).

  “Would you believe I flashed old man Johnson this morning and got into a fight with a paper blind?” I replied smiling.

  Kathy rolled her eyes as did Sarah.

  “Only you could start your day that way Paige!” they both replied together (can you tell we’ve been BFF’s forever?)

  I pulled out my still buzzing phone. I looked down and had to laugh.

  “What’s so funny? Sarah asked.

  I held up the phone so they could read the message.

  Try to have a nice day honey…

  Chapter 11

  New York City traffic on a Monday is hell. Actually, let me rephrase that. Traffic in New York City sucks rocks on any day, but especially Monday! My friends were being respectful of my currently wounded state and didn’t bump loud music while I held an ice pack (my mother had tossed a chemical one in my purse) against my goose egg. Now Kathy was ready to bump some music. It was how she dealt with stress. Her Spotify Playlists were legendary. She had a playlist for anything and everything and she had the must play music twitch going on with her face. I reached over and held her hand.

  “I feel your pain, Kathy. Can we listen to some of “NPR’s -The Moth” until my head stops screaming and I promise we can go wherever you want (Sarah gave me the yep you better be sucking up look) after we get off work today to celebrate.” I said softly.

  Kathy just sighed heavily. (It was an Elizabethan moment with all of the pageantry of surrendering for God and country.)

  If I must, but I am forsworn!” she said.

  I just counted the seconds feeling the knot on my head pulsing and then she laughed.

  I gave her the pointy finger and laughed.

  “We really need to have a girl’s night and binge-watch “Game” for a weekend!” I said laughing.

  Kathy’s face got all serious.

  “Now don’t you be toying with a girl’s feelings like that…” she said.

  I’m like totally serious,” I said (doing my best Moon Unit Zappa impersonation)

  At that, we all laughed, and then fate seemed to interfere in our lives yet again. As we turned down Madison Ave, I happened to look over to my right and spotted The Car. A Skyfall Silver Aston Martin with tinted windows was stopped at the light right next to us. My heart started racing (which made my head pound even more) and I slunk down in the passenger seat trying to hide.

  “Why are you hiding Paige?” asked Sarah.

  “Shhhh,” I said and pointed nonchalantly at the car next to us.

  “Damn girl! Is that The Prof?” asked Kathy.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t exactly want to find out looking like this at the moment! I said rather irritated pointing at myself for added effect...

  (Picture hat off, an ice pack on the head with a glowing goose egg on the noggin, a throbbing foot and don’t forget the ruler mark on my face)

  “Don’t worry girl, I got this!” Kathy said quietly.

  Now any normal person would have thought. Phew! My friends got my back. We’re going to chill until the Aston Martin drives by, but you know how friends are right? Being the silly bitch BFF that she is, Kathy proceeded to do the exact opposite of what I thought was going to happen.

  Rolling down her window the following transpired.

  “Hey!!!” she yelled waving like a hooker working Park Avenue at the Aston Martin!

  Kathy!!! I yelled looking at her in horror. As the light changed, Sarah (seeing my distress) hit the gas, sending Kathy tumbling back into her seat and almost rear-ended the delivery truck that was in front of us.

  “Really,” I yelled at Kathy (giving her the stink eye)...

  “I thought you wanted me to get The Prof’s attention for you,” she said smiling sweetly.

  At the next light, the Aston Martin pulled up next to us and rolled his window down.

  A tweed coated hand reached out and knocked on Kathy’s window.

  Kathy looked at me; I just shook my head and said:

  “Go Ahead! You got their attention!”

  A note was passed and then the hand was withdrawn and the light changed and the Aston Martin sped off. Katy opened the note and laughed holding her hand to her mouth.

  “Well?” We asked (you could cut the suspense like Irish Butter just pulled from the fridge).

  I must say, I’ve never been propositioned quite like that before, but I must admit you look rather fetching and I have only been in your country for a short while. If you would like to keep an old man company, meet me at The Hotel Excelsior for dinner say 6:00 PM sharp and ask for Mr. Bailey when you see the Concierge’. Maybe
we can keep the introductions a little more, low key this time, but I do like your energy. Hopefully, we can put it to good use... (wink wink).

  I didn’t even know what to say! That was the funniest shit that I had ever heard. Kathy just got propositioned and Mr. Bailey thought she was a working girl. I was rolling and so was Sarah.

  We were laughing so hard, we had to pull over to catch our breath. I looked at the clock, but

  Sarah smiled at my alarm.

  “Remember, it’s ten minutes fast, cause I’m always late!” she reminded me.

  We were just going to make it in time.

  We pulled back into traffic. My headache was magically gone and my sense of humor was going full blast.

  “Hey, Kathy, you got any Sir Mix A Lot. You might want to load Baby Got Back for tonight’s date!” I said.

  Kathy rolled her eyes at me. We couldn’t stop laughing.

  “That’ll teach you, missy!” I said to Kathy.

  Of course, she flipped us both off to let us know how she felt about that suggestion!

  We pulled into the parking garage and grabbed a parking ticket. Staff parking was open and we squeezed into a spot between a pair of BMWs.

  Grabbing our stuff we fast-walked to the street. My mom and dad were going to kill me if we were late for orientation…

  Grabbing the ornately cast bronze doors, we walked into The Rotunda. We just made it.

  We were at The Morgan…. Hell yes!

  Chapter 12

  Just standing in The Rotunda of The Morgan and looking at the exquisite ceiling murals and carved reliefs and marble and alabaster everywhere, I wasn’t sure if I was pre-menopausal or the air conditioning had just failed. I was having those Damn Girl moments and fanning myself. The library is just ridiculous. It is a homage to all of the best things that humanity has learned from the classical world and the decor (don’t get me started). Between the woodwork and the marble reliefs and statues, I mean the place looked like it had been transported right out of Italy. The decor was very elegant, I kept waiting for Queen Elizabeth or Prince Charles to pop through a side door and say they were coming over for a visit. The fact that this was one man’s PERSONAL library and the amount of dollars that were spent to house a collection that was still growing even as they built the library makes the grandeur of the space even that much more amazing. They were making changes on the fly, to accommodate the new treasures being purchased. There is no other collection like this in the world and scholars, professors and archeologists still come to study the collection at the library because new discoveries are still being made.