by Juniper Hart
She easily passed the kids, ignoring their apologetic smiles. She made her way up the center of the gardens and into the shelter of the trees which surrounded the small neighborhood meeting ground. Of course Gena knew that her ire had nothing to do with the teens or the seniors who went about their business innocently and without meaning harm. She simply needed an outlet for her growing sense of woe and frustration, unfair as it was.
Onward she sprinted, as if trying to outrun her own bad attitude. To her dismay, there were two couples walking their dogs on the dirt path. They were lost in conversation and oblivious to her approach. Gena realized she was going to be forced to speak to them if she wanted to get by. Desperately, she glanced around for another way and saw no other path.
You have got to be kidding me! she thought furiously, racing up behind the couples. They made no indication of moving as they slowly began to stroll, chuckling at some ridiculous anecdote and completely oblivious to Gena’s nearness. Only the Golden Retriever and Doberman seemed to acknowledge her presence, their tails wagging as she approached. Impulsively, she extended her hand to allow for them to sniff her, which they did eagerly. She cringed as she realized she knew the owners of the Doberman.
Why is it impossible to do anything in this town without running into someone you know? she asked herself, though it was a question she had almost daily. If she didn’t want to live in a small town, she would need to get the hell out one day.
If only it were that easy.
Gena cleared her throat suggestively, worried that if she spoke, a flurry of cuss words would escape her lips. She didn’t trust herself to behave rationally, not after the forty-eight hours she had endured.
You people are ignorant and rude! There are others in this park! she screamed silently. One of the women turned at the guttural sound. The offender’s surprised face lit up into a smile.
“Oh, Gena!” Adriana chirped. “I didn’t see you there! How are you doing?”
Gena forced a smile onto her pixie-like face and shrugged, continuing to jog on the spot.
“I’m great!” she replied enthusiastically. “How are you, Adriana? Oh, hey, Chris, nice to see you.” She had no idea from where she mustered the feigned cheer.
Chris reined in the Doberman and smiled politely without directly answering the question. He gestured at the other couple. They were well-dressed and Asian, both qualities which made them stick out immediately in their blue-collar town. Gena already liked them simply based on the fact that she did not know them.
“Gena, these are the Vaus. They just moved to Apple Orchard from Detroit. Daniel, Amy, this is Gena Averson.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” the couple chorused, extending their hands. Gena accepted them and nodded amiably. She idly wondered what would possess anyone to move to Hicksville, British Columbia from a major city, but she had no interest in instigating a conversation. It wasn’t something she could not live without knowing. She had other things to worry about, like finding a job and setting Chad’s clothes on fire.
Much to Gena’s chagrin, Chris was not finished with the introductions. “Gena is a hospice nurse at the palliative care home on Easter Street.”
“Oh, you work in the medical field?” Amy asked, her eyes lighting up with interest. “That must be a difficult area, palliative care.”
“Actually, I was laid off yesterday,” Gena replied quickly. She was slightly ashamed at the embarrassed look which crossed over Amy’s face. You didn’t have to say it like that, she chided herself, but the damage was already done, and perversely, Gena felt better having said the words aloud. It was the first time she had.
Adriana gasped and glanced at her own husband, her blue eyes widening in shock as if he had withheld some vital information from her.
“What? Why?” Adriana demanded. “You have worked there since you were straight out of college!”
Gena maintained the smile on her lips and shrugged with nonchalance she did not feel. “Cutbacks. The town is shrinking, not growing,” she murmured. “Well, except for the Vaus, I see.”
There was an uncomfortable laugh and then an awkward silence.
“Well, how is Chad doing?” Chris asked, trying to ease the mild tension. A bird squawked above their heads, and Gena felt like it was mocking her.
Shut up, you pterodactyl, she snapped silently, the fact that she was furious at songbirds not lost on her. Gena turned her attention to Chris and smiled tightly.
“Chad and I broke up yesterday also,” she confessed. Chris’ face turned three shades of red in two seconds.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he told her, deeply embarrassed. Adriana shifted her eyes toward the ground, and the Vaus’ Golden Retriever licked Gena’s hand. She patted the dog affectionately, again moving her shoulders skyward.
Are all of God’s creatures out to make fun of me today? she wondered with annoyance.
“Don’t be,” Gena offered. “He beat me to it, really.”
Four sets of shocked eyes met her words, as if gaging her expression for truth. The fact of the matter was precisely that; Gena had been wanting to end her four-year relationship with Chad for over a year. She was furious that he had been the one to break things off, especially on the day when she’d been fired.
Good riddance, Gena had told herself after he left their shared house that night, but it didn’t stop her from lying awake all night, fighting back tears. She reasoned that she was only upset because of the timing. What other possible explanation could there be? They had not been intimate in months, they both led separate lives, and she couldn’t be certain he wasn’t already married to his mother.
I should have run for the hills when he started bringing his laundry over to his mom’s house for her to do it, Gena told herself during the sleepless tossing and turning, but no matter how she tried to downplay the breakup, she couldn’t still her pounding heart.
“You’re distant and cold,” Chad had told her, a duffle bag in hand as he stood in the kitchen. “We’ve been drifting apart for a long while.”
“You’re just going to walk off when I just lost my job?” she had asked incredulously, her hazel eyes filled with shock. “How am I going to pay rent?”
He had sighed, his broad shoulders falling in defeat. “I didn’t plan it like this, but I can’t live in this house with you a moment longer, Gena. You’re sucking the life out of me with your negativity. Maybe losing your job was a good thing. Working around all that death seems to darken you somehow. I’m sorry it happened this way.”
Gena hadn’t heard another word from him, no matter how many times she checked her phone throughout the wee hours of the morning.
“Oh, Gena, are you okay?” Adriana asked, her light eyes fraught with concern and drawing Gena back to her furious reality. Gena suddenly realized she had stopped jogging as her thoughts had begun to consume her.
Great, now I have to warm up all over again. Thanks a lot, you nosy jerks. Instantly, she began to move her feet, brushing past the two couples and their pets casually.
“Of course. It’s not the end of the world. I am applying at the hospital today,” she told them as she started to jog away. She hoped they would take the hint and let her go without too much more conversation.
“Gena, call me, and we’ll do coffee this week!” Adriana yelled, and Gena held up a hand in acknowledgement.
“Nice meeting you, Daniel and Amy!” Gena cried back over her shoulder as an afterthought.
“You too!” the newcomers called after her, and Gena cringed at the pity in their tone.
They just met me, and they’re already feeling sorry for me. You sure do have a winning personality. Great first impression on the new folks. Maybe Chad is right about you. You’re all doom and gloom. Maybe they’re hiring at the funeral home.
As she disappeared around the treeline, Gena stopped jogging and leaned forward, suddenly feeling winded. She should probably call it a day. She still had to print off her resume and drop it off at Hodg
eson Memorial Hospital that morning. She hoped she had enough ink in the printer, because she knew she didn’t have enough money to replace it. Glancing at her watch, Gena realized it was nearing ten o’clock already.
Dammit, I wasted too much time chit chatting with those busybodies. I have to get a move on. Gena rushed out of the park gates, reaching for her water bottle. To her dismay, it was empty. She was parched, and it would take her at least twenty minutes to get home from Christie Park. Impulsively, she hurried across the street to the convenience store on the corner.
The bell chimed, announcing her arrival. Max glanced up from behind the counter.
“Heya, Gena!” he greeted. “Out for a run today?”
“Yep,” she said, heading toward the back of the store where the cooler filled with drinks seemed to be calling out to her. Max continued to make pleasant conversation, but Gena’s mind was elsewhere, not hearing much of what the old timer was saying.
Yanking open the fridge, Gena grabbed for a bottle of Dasani and took a much-needed swig. At the front, someone else had entered the store, and Max had focused his attention on them almost as if he had forgotten Gena was there. It wouldn’t be a farfetched assumption; Max’s memory had been slipping for a while.
As the glass of the fridge began to close, Gena saw something out of the corner of her eye. Recapping the water, she caught the panel before it sealed. She leaned back into the cooler and saw a cell phone sitting on the bottom, next to some no-name pop. Gena shook her head at the sheer stupidity of someone leaving something that expensive in such an obscure location.
How absentminded does someone have to be to leave their phone in a fridge? she thought. Immediately, she felt ashamed, thinking of some of the dementia patients she had known. On closer inspection, she realized it was a new iPhone.
She wondered if it belonged to one of the Vaus. They were the only people in town who looked like they had the money to afford something that frivolous. Gena shook her head. More shame flooded through her. Why was she hating on people with money? Just because she was broke and now forced to carry a house without a job didn’t mean other people couldn’t have money. She was sure the Vaus worked very hard for their wealth, and it was certainly not her business.
Slowly, Gena made her way to the front of the store, staring at the generic home screen picture. Of course, it was password protected, and there was no way to tell whom the phone belonged to.
It looks brand new. I bet someone is super pissed off about losing this right now. I’ll swing by the Sprint store and drop it off. They can figure out who owns it, she thought.
She considered leaving it with Max, but while his heart was pure, he would most likely end up throwing the phone in the garbage accidentally. He had once thrown out his entire register and dropped his trash in the bank deposit vault.
Probably shouldn’t risk it with a thousand-dollar phone, Gena thought as she approached the counter. Max was still chatting with the owner of the barber shop and his son. Instead of interrupting them, Gena pulled a handful of coins from her jogger’s pack and left it on the counter, waving goodbye to Max and the others.
She shot another quick look at the time and gritted her teeth. She still had to get home and shower before making her way to the hospital. She broke into a run, but as she did, the phone began to chime in her pack.
Ah, it’s probably the owner, she thought, since the caller identification read Private Caller. She answered the phone while slowing her pace slightly yet maintaining her jog. She didn’t want to make the same mistake of letting her muscles cool again.
“Hello?” Her breath came out quickly as she hurried along Chestnut Avenue. There wasn’t time to stop and chat for another minute, not if she wanted to be on time.
“Hello?” a female voice sounded surprised. “Uh, who the hell is this?”
A flash of irritation coursed through Gena. Well, that isn’t a very courteous way to speak to the person who found your phone, lady, she wanted to bark, but she resisted the urge.
“Who are you looking for?” Gena asked, still panting, turning onto Boyter Street.
“Oh, I think you know,” came the coy response. “What’s your name?”
A spark of deviance shot through Gena as she realized that the woman on the other end of the phone was likely looking for her boyfriend.
She probably thinks I’m hooking up with him, she thought with gleeful naughtiness. She decided to play along. She knew it was cruel, but given her current state of mind, she felt like her misery might enjoy the company of another broken-hearted woman. When he gets his phone back, he can explain it to her, she thought with uncharacteristic malice.
“This is Gena,” she answered smugly. Her house was coming into view. The woman on the other end paused for a moment, and Gena thought she had hung up for a second until she finally spoke again.
“Hello, Gena. May I ask what you are doing with that phone?”
“May I ask why you care?” Gena replied, chewing on her lower lip to keep from giggling. There was a snort of derision in her ear.
“Are you having fun, Gena?”
The jogged pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. That was a weird question to ask. She was almost home, and besides, Gena was beginning to bore of her plan already, anyway. She didn’t have time to engage in such petty behavior that morning, and a stab of guilt pierced her when she realized how low she had sunk.
You’re making this chick believe you are having an affair with her boyfriend. That’s trashy. She didn’t do anything wrong. Just hang up and don’t answer the phone again. You’re acting childish, lashing out at complete strangers for no reason whatsoever. Stop acting like a brat. She was truly ashamed by her behavior.
“I think you have the wrong number,” Gena mumbled, ready to disconnect, but the woman laughed in her ear. Gena found the noise disconcerting for some reason. The mirth in the caller’s voice was genuine, not like that of a woman who was seeking her significant other.
“No, I don’t think I do,” the mystery woman replied softly. Before Gena could respond, the woman had hung up. Shaking her head at the odd conversation, she bolted up the steps to the front door and spilled into the house, already stripping out of her sweaty jogging clothes.
“Stop checking me out,” she told the fat calico who watched her distastefully and then resumed licking his paws. Mitten’s contempt was almost palpable.
Gena left the cell phone on the bannister and took the stairs two at a time. She heard the phone ring again, but this time, she just let it go.
2
Shari Jespers stared at the office phone for a solid minute, her mind whirling as she tried to make sense of what she had just learned.
The girl was panting and playing dumb. Sounds like I interrupted her right in the middle of something… or someone right in the middle of her. But she answered his phone anyway and told me her name. Is she completely stupid or looking for the limelight?
There was only one way to find out. Her reporter instincts were going completely nuts, and the scent of the story was almost more than she could bear. Shari punched the intercom button on the phone.
“Brandon, get me Ivan in IT,” she demanded, the excitement in her voice almost palpable.
“Yes, Ms. Jespers,” her assistant intoned. A moment later, the phone rang, and Shari snatched it up.
“Ivan, hi,” she said without preamble. “I need your help tracking a cell.” When she hung up, she smiled to herself and turned to look out the office window into the bustling city of Los Angeles.
Shari had been a celebrity reporter for the Los Angeles Physique for twelve years. In that time, she had met more than her fair share of A, B, and C-listers from all walks of life. Musicians, actors, royalty—they were all fair game in her line of work.
At the start of her career, she had been happy to grab any interview she could, covering Hollywood’s families and new house purchases, but as she gained confidence in her field, Shari began to dig deepe
r. As she searched, she found herself looking for skeletons in the closets on America’s sweethearts. She was rarely disappointed, for in every success story, there were debaucheries by the dozens.
Where the famous once welcomed her into their fold, suddenly they feared for their innermost secrets and took great pains to avoid the ruthless reporter. But if Shari Jespers wanted a story, she would stop at nothing to get it.
Lately, Shari had found herself fascinated with the uncharacteristic silence of Arden Morrow. He was still one of Tinsel Town’s most sought-after actors, but his last four movies had lost critical acclaim, and there were rumors that he was becoming increasingly difficult on set. Abruptly, he had opted out of a contract and disappeared without a word to anyone. He had ended his relationship with the strikingly beautiful Leona Davis seemingly out of the blue, and Shari’s keen reporter sense knew there was a delicious story there. She had made it her personal quest to uncover whatever it was he was hiding.
Even if it is a simple nervous breakdown, it will still be mine to discover. Everyone else seems content just leaving him in peace to wither away, but not me. If he’s suffering from some mental illness, he needs to tell the world. And if he doesn’t, I will. She had to admit the thought of outing his secrets filled her with a now-familiar sense of twisted pleasure.
It was not Arden Morrow specifically for whom Shari felt loathing; it was the entire La La Land culture. No one was ever perfect enough, skinny enough, rich enough. Those who made it big never did so through hard work, only by being at the right place with the right person. Where Hollywood had once prided itself on admiring the very talented, only the very popular fared now, regardless of how poorly they performed. The unfairness of it enraged Shari, and she tried to balance the scales in her own warped way. It never occurred to her that it wasn’t her scale to balance.