Save Karyn

by Karyn Bosnak

  She ran my card through and I was approved. I was kind of nervous because I didn’t know if I had a limit. I forgot to ask the woman that on the phone. I signed on the dotted line and it was official: I was now the proud owner of a Burberry coat!

  “Shall I hang it for you?” the saleslady asked.

  “Oh, yes, please, I don’t want it to wrinkle,” I said. “I have to wear it to a big occasion tomorrow,” I added to make it sound believable. The saleslady didn’t really care about my big occasion, so I shut up. What kind of big occasion would I have on a Monday that required a Burberry coat anyway?

  “A business lunch,” I said out loud. Yes, that’s what kind! The saleslady just looked at me. She didn’t really care. When she was done hanging the coat, she passed it to me over the counter, and I thanked her.

  “Thank you,” I said. Phew! Got the big one out of the way! I was nervous. I felt like a criminal. Now all I had to do was buy something around $100 and I was done. For that I decided to go to the BCBG section.

  A short trip on the down escalator took me right to the BCBG section. A table in the front had some super-cute T-shirts on it. They were black and white with some pretty designs on them. I looked at a price tag and saw that they were $70 each. With that, I grabbed two in my size—one black and one white—and brought them up to the counter. The total ended up to be $151. Perfect! I was done!

  I decided to take my stuff home and wait a few hours and then go back to return it. I was hoping by the time I got back there that the women I bought the items from wouldn’t be there anymore. If they were, I wasn’t sure what I would say to them—especially the coat lady. Should I tell her that my business lunch was canceled? No, that’s not good. Ah! I know. I’d tell her that I found another coat that I like better. At Saks…yes, Saks. That’s it. I went to Saks and found another coat that I like better so I wanted to return this one.

  To pass the time, I straightened up my apartment a bit. And I pet Elvis. He was in desperate need of some lovin’. He’s always in desperate need of some lovin’. When I got home, I noticed that he had been humping a sweater of mine that was on the floor. He does this all the time, and has since I got him. The first time I caught him “making muffins” I sort of freaked out and picked him up to stop him. And I was horrified when I saw that his “pink thing” was sticking out. He’s neutered and I didn’t think that was supposed to happen to neutered cats. So I freaked out and called the vet, telling them that they didn’t get it all when they did the job.

  “That ‘pink thing,’ Karyn, is his penis,” the vet said to me. “When we neuter cats, we only remove their testicles, not their penises. If we cut his penis off then he wouldn’t be able to pee, now would he?”

  “I guess not,” I said. “So he’s totally normal?”

  “Totally,” the vet answered.

  Anywho, Elvis humps anything that’s soft and fluffy. I once caught him on top of a stuffed animal and was tempted to take a picture and send it to my friends as “kitty porn.” But I opted to let the little bugger hump in peace, in the privacy of his own home.

  I picked up the phone to make a call and realized that I had voice mail. I had three, in fact. I was popular! I pushed the button to listen to the first.

  “Uh, hi, Karyn. This is Paul,” said a grumbly voice. “Uh, I’m glad to hear you are okay. I was worried when I couldn’t find you and just assumed that you probably got sick.” Yeah, sick of you, I thought. “So let’s try to get together again sometime next weekend if you’re free. Okay, bye.”

  Are you kidding me? How dense can a guy be? I left him in a bar. In the middle of a date, mind you. I went to the bathroom and just never came back. And he wants to know if I want to go out again. Oy vay! I deleted the message and went on to the next call.

  “Hi, Karyn, it’s your mother. Listen, my friend Pandy has a son who lives in New York and we want to set you up with each other. He’s supposed to be really good-looking and has a really great job. You remember Pandy, right? She brought me that nice gift basket last time you were home. Anyway, call me.”

  As great as this sounded, I was a bit worried. My mom isn’t always the greatest at picking out suitable men for me. I let her set me up on a date once before. Once. It was horrible.

  You see, my mom used to work at the local orthodontist’s office. One day while I was living in Chicago, she called me and told me that she gave my phone number out to some guy who happened to be a patient there.

  “I know I didn’t ask you,” she said, “but he’s a pilot for Northwest. A real pilot. He’s thirty-five years old and just adorable.”

  “Wait, go back. Why is he a patient there?” I asked. “Does he have braces, Mom!?”

  “Oh, no, not anymore. He just got them taken off. He came in to be fit for his retainer,” she said.

  “A retainer? Mom, that’s worse!” I yelled. “He doesn’t have a head gear, does he?”

  “No, he doesn’t have a head gear! And quit being mean! You better be nice to him when he calls you! I told him that you were nice!”

  “I am nice,” I said, “to men who don’t wear retainers, that is.”

  “Karyn!”

  “Oh, I’m just kidding, Mom. I’ll be nice. I promise.”

  A few days later, my mom’s pilot called for a date. And true to my word, for my Mom’s sake, I was nice to him.

  I was nice when he asked me to take a train to the suburbs to go out to dinner because he didn’t want to drive into the big bad city. I refused, but I was nice. I was also nice when the date had to start at 5:30 P.M. so he could beat the traffic into the big bad city. And I was nice again when I watched him pick the corn out of his teeth during dinner.

  But my favorite part of the evening, when I was the nicest, came when we were having a drink after dinner. We were sitting across from each other at a table talking when he stopped and reached in his pocket.

  “Do you mind if I put my retainer in?” he asked me.

  “Um…,” I said, startled, “um, no. Go right ahead.” With that said, he pulled out his retainer and shoved it up in the roof of his mouth with his two thumbs. Then after a few seconds of adjusting and biting up and down, he was set. Don’t worry about going to the bathroom to do that or anything. Just pull it right out here in front of your date. No problem.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Now, where were we?”

  Um, I honestly forgot. Before the night was over he told me how he and his “buddy” just got season passes to the local theme park, Six Flags. He asked me if I had ever been there.

  “When I was twelve,” I said. He was thirty-five.

  Yep, I was nice all night. And because of that, I’m always a bit cautious when my mom wants to set me up with someone. I deleted my mom’s message and went on to the third.

  “Hi, Karyn,” said a familiar voice, “it’s Brad.” Brad! It was Brad! The message continued. “I just want to apologize for not calling you back. I’ve been crazy at work and I know it’s not an excuse, but I’d love to get together sometime this week if you are free. Give me a call. Oh, yeah, and in case you threw it away, my number is 555-1234. Bye.”

  I couldn’t believe he called! I felt like maybe I should be angry, but I couldn’t really be because I was excited. I pushed Repeat and listened to the message again. Aaah…Brad. I then saved it and hung up.

  THE RETURN

  I decided to wait to call Brad back and got ready to go back to Bloomingdale’s to do my return. I got my purse, made sure my Amex was in it, found my keys and then looked at the phone. I decided that I wasn’t going to play games, and called Brad right then. I picked up the phone and dialed his number. Before I knew it, it was ringing. And ringing. I hoped he was home. A few seconds later he answered.

  “Hello?” he said. Oh, he sounded so cute!

  “Brad? Hi, it’s Karyn,” I said.

  “Karyn! Hi! I was hoping you’d call back! I’m so sorry that it’s taken me so long to get back to you. I’ve just been crazy at work and have actu
ally been doing a lot of traveling,” he said.

  “Oh, no problem. I know the feeling very well,” I said.

  “So what’s up? How is work? When does your show premiere?” he asked.

  “Monday, September eleventh, but we have a really crappy time slot in New York, so it’s going to be on at like three in the morning or something. You’ll have to tape it.”

  “I will definitely. Just let me know when.”

  “I will,” I said. I was excited to talk to him. And I really didn’t have any reason to be angry. We weren’t seriously dating or anything. And I didn’t want to come across as some possessive freak. So I was cool. Cool as a cucumber.

  “So, we have to get together soon. What are your plans this week?” he asked.

  “This week? Well, I have a trainer now and I see him Monday and Wednesday,” I said, trying to impress him. “So I guess that leaves Tuesday or Thursday.”

  “A trainer? Wow. Little miss workout,” he said, teasing.

  “Yes, a trainer. It’s actually kind of funny and a very big deal for me because I’m very uncoordinated and have no idea what I’m doing in a gym.”

  “Well, I’m impressed,” he said. Ahh! It worked! “Tuesday is really good for me, so let’s go out then. I’ll take you to dinner to celebrate your trainer.”

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  “Okay. I’ll give you a call tomorrow with details,” he said.

  “Until then,” I said. “Bye.”

  “Bye,” he said.

  I hung up the phone and threw my body back on my bed and smiled. Dinner with Brad on Tuesday. I was so excited! What was I going to wear? I got up and started going through my closet. I passed up the coral shirt because I’d already worn it with him. And I didn’t want to wear the one I got to go out with the Pet Store Guy, well, because I decided it was bad luck. My Rebecca Taylor shirt was at the cleaners and wouldn’t be ready until Wednesday. What to wear, what to wear….

  I then looked over at the Bloomingdale’s bag sitting on the floor by the front door. One of those BCBG shirts inside would be perfect. I know I was supposed to return them, but I decided to try one on just to see how it looked.

  I went in the bag and pulled out the white one first. It had the outline of an orchid or some kind of flower in black on it. But the outline was really big, so you couldn’t really tell what it was. It looked kind of “rocker,” but rocker in a good way, not rocker in a Lita Ford way.

  I slipped the T-shirt over my head and stood in front of the mirror. Oh, it was nice…. And my boobs looked so big in it. I wouldn’t even have to wear my water bra or my Curves with it. Just a plain old padded bra would look just fine.

  I then decided to try on the black one as well just to see how it compared. Looking more closely I noticed that they were the same T-shirt, the colors were just reversed. I slipped this one over my head and looked in the mirror. Oh! Oh, we had a winner! The black one was so much better—hands down! I had to keep this one. I could just return the other one and the Burberry coat and probably still create enough “credit” to offset my payment for the month.

  With that, I hung the black T-shirt up in my closet and put the white one back in the bag, and headed back to Bloomingdale’s. The closer I got to the store, the more nervous I became. Once I arrived, I went to the coat section and started to stake out the place looking for the same saleslady. After checking out the counter, I didn’t see her and realized that I must be safe. She was gone. I felt relieved. I walked up and put my coat on the counter.

  “Hi,” I said to the saleslady behind the counter. “I just bought this coat and wanted to return it. I didn’t wear it. I didn’t even take it out of the bag, to be honest. I just found one that I liked better at a different store. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, that’s no problem, miss,” the saleslady said. She was so nice. I don’t know why I was so nervous. She took my coat out of the bag and found the tag and started the return. I held my head down and waited.

  “It’s a beautiful coat,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah, it is. It’s great. I just found the cutest one at Saks though. I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it,” she said, “I understand. I always buy and return things because I can never tell if I truly like something until I get it home.”

  “I know exactly how you feel! I always do that too!” This was true. I did know how she felt. I am a big believer in the “skinny mirror” conspiracy theory—because I look like a supermodel when I’m in some fitting rooms. I’ve even thought about sending my photos into Elite when I’m in some fitting rooms. Could you imagine if I did?

  “Um, miss, were you high when you sent us these pictures?” they’d ask me.

  “No, seriously, if you’ll just come with me to Bloomingdale’s fitting rooms, you’ll see how hot I am,” I’d say.

  Anywho, when she finished ringing the return, I signed my American Express credit slip and thanked her. I turned around and walked toward the down escalator. That was so easy that this next one should be a breeze. When I got to the BCBG section, I again scoped out the area and saw that the same girl was working the register. Oh, who really cares? It was one shirt. I walked up and took it out of the bag.

  “Hi. I want to return this,” I said. The saleslady looked up at the shirt and then looked at me.

  “Didn’t you just buy this?” she asked rudely.

  “Yeah, I bought two actually, and I just don’t like this one,” I said. She sighed.

  “Can I have your credit card, please?” she asked, irritated. I just wanted to yell, “Chill out, lady. It’s only seventy bucks. I just returned a $650 coat upstairs and they didn’t hassle me.” But I didn’t. I just smiled and handed over my card. She pushed a few buttons, swiped my card, and before I knew it, I was out the door.

  I walked out of Bloomingdale’s and let out a sigh of relief. I did it. I succeeded in doing the buy and return. Now I just hoped it worked. I should be able to find out by tomorrow.

  On my way home, I picked up dinner at a nearby sushi restaurant that was in my Zagat guide. That night as I ate by myself, I looked out the window into an apartment building across the street. It was getting dark outside, and I could just start to make out the inside of some of the apartments. One in particular caught my attention, and I briefly stopped eating and stared. Inside, the light from a hanging chandelier glowed and fire from a few random candles flickered as a couple danced together with wineglasses in their hands. It was sweet.

  After a few moments, I looked back down at my plate and continued to eat alone. When I was finished, I pulled out my Zagat guide, circled the sushi restaurant and wrote, “Me, all alone after a buy-and-return, with the chandelier people across the street.”

  FIVE

  GRAND DEBT TALLY 6,829.00

  MY SUGAR MAMA

  On Monday, I called American Express and was delighted to find out that the buy and return was successful! I mailed off my check for $1,451 and was set for the month. With that under my belt, I was able to concentrate on my Tuesday-night date with Brad, which turned out to be a success as well. My shirt was a success, my Red Salon haircut and color was still a success, and damnit—I was a success. He took me to a great Mexican restaurant downtown called Mi Cocina, which was deeelish. And afterward, I invited him back to my apartment and he was deeelish!

  I’m not one to kiss and tell, but let’s just say as quickly as I showed him my cherry wood sleigh bed, we were thrashing around on it like wild animals. And during the thrashing, something awfully peculiar happened. I reached for Brad’s zipper but was stopped in mid-zip. No, the zipper wasn’t stuck. Brad actually stopped me himself. What kind of man stops a woman from undoing his zipper? A potentially gay man, that’s what kind.

  Brad ended up sleeping over, but nothing too exciting happened. The next day, when I got to work, I called my friend Naomi in Chicago to tell her all about it.

  “He slept over,” I said, “but nothing major happened or an
ything. It was like he didn’t want me to go there or something.”

  “What do you mean he didn’t want you to go there?” she asked.

  “I mean we were fooling around, and I went for it, you know, and he stopped me.”

  “Oh, I have to work with him, I don’t want to hear this,” she said.

  “Well, you were my friend before you started working with him, so you have to. And you are the one who set me up with him, so you have to have to,” I said.

  “Well, maybe he has a little penis,” she said. “But then again, he is Potentially Gay Brad.”

  “He’s not gay!” I said.

  “If you say so. I mean you’re the one who can’t get in his pants, not me,” she said. “But I have very good news.”

  “What?”

  “I’m coming to New York next week! On Monday! I convinced my bosses that I had some serious work to do there and they are letting me go!” she said.

  “Cool! I’m so excited!” I said. “You can see my apartment. More importantly, you can see Bloomingdale’s!” I said. I hadn’t seen Naomi in three months.

  “So listen to this,” she said, “I’m staying Monday and Tuesday night. And I was thinking that we could go to dinner Monday with my expense account and then you can shack up with me at my hotel. We can have a slumber party.”

  “Where are you staying?” I asked.

  “Prepare yourself,” she said.

  “I’m prepared,” I said, anxiously awaiting.

  “The Plaza!” she said, screaming. I screamed back.

  “The Plaza! Eloise lives there!” I said, referring to the little fictional girl who lives in the hotel.

  “Is that that little bitch in the book?” Naomi asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “And please don’t refer to her like that. Okay, I am going to move my training appointment to the morning.”

  “Good,” she said. “Then Tuesday night I have to go to dinner with Brad and some other people from work. You should come to that too actually. I don’t think anyone would care.”