Run Delia Run

by Cindy Bokma

  Camille and I stopped going to our acting classes. I had enough of crawling around on the floor, pretending to be an animal or a rock. Reading Shakespeare wasn’t going to help me find a range of emotion. When I was instructed to sizzle like bacon, I drew the line. I had enough of my personal experiences to extract from and didn’t need to be an inanimate object to express myself. The blackness of my depression threatened to choke me and I didn’t know how long I could fake a sunny attitude. I kept moving through the days, hanging on by my fingernails.

  Soon after Camille met a nice guy named Joe, it was like our friendship had never existed. We passed each other in the apartment at night, meeting up in the kitchen over a glass of tepid tap water. Once in while we worked side by side when we had to cater parties, but, other than that, she was always with Joe.

  He was an artist living in Los Angeles for the duration of his art show at a gallery in Brentwood. Mexican, tall, and dark with a head full of black hair and serious brown eyes under thick bushy brows. He whispered in Spanish to Camille and she ate it up; he had Camille under his spell.

  How could she leave me? And I knew she would. It was only a matter of time before she abandoned me like my parents and David and Rita before her. Even our friend Steve had moved on to Miami.

  As I predicted, she flew to New York to marry Joe in her hometown of the Bronx, getting married in an ornate Catholic church with her mother lighting candles and her father giving her away as she wore a lacy veil over her beautiful face.

  I couldn’t afford to go to the wedding. I only had enough money to cover the rent for the next month. They moved to Mexico and offered me a place to stay if I wanted to visit but I had too much going on in Los Angeles. I continued to cater but no longer bothered to audition for shows. I gave up on commercials, too, bottoming out after I filmed a dog food commercial where I dressed up like a cowgirl in a red bandana trying to lasso a dog to come inside and eat his dry dog food. Once they put a cowboy hat and tiny chaps on the dog, I knew my career was over.

  I took on a second job, working at a tiny bookstore in Santa Monica earning six dollars an hour. Then, I took on a third job answering phones for a dental office in Beverly Hills. It was there that I met Leo Kubias, and my whole world changed.

  Chapter 8

  Past

  Each day, I climbed into my ailing Jeep and prayed it would start. I purchased it from a friend of a friend who worked as a lighting technician on Wheel of Fortune. It barely ran and when I turned the steering wheel a wretched squealing noise rang out. The air conditioning was temperamental and only worked once in a while. I had to roll the windows down manually to get a slight breeze.

  Bending over the appointment book, I held the telephone in the crook of my neck, trying to schedule an appointment for Mrs. Kimble who desperately needed a new crown. A handsome, well-dressed man appeared in my line of vision and I motioned to him, holding up one finger as I wrote Mrs. Kimble’s name under Friday. For a split second, I was rendered speechless by his good looks but quickly regained my composure.

  When I hung up, I called to him, “Thanks for waiting. Can I help you?”

  The song playing at the time was an instrumental version of the Doors “Light My Fire.” I was subjected all day to pitiful Muzak versions of popular songs that echoed through my head long after work was over. For some reason, that song on this day etched itself into my brain.

  He strolled up to the window, all confidence and swagger, and I clenched my teeth in a smile. Gripping the pen, my hand shook as I looked at him, nerves throwing me off my normal poise. He must be a movie star.

  “I believe my assistant called to book an emergency appointment. I’ve got this horrible toothache. I think my filling must have come out at lunch yesterday. Is there any way Dr. Thurman can see me this morning?” he asked, holding his cheek for emphasis.

  I shook my head. The dentist was booked all week.

  “Please, can you check again? I’m dying here. I can’t even eat,” he pleaded, knitting his brows together and wincing. I glanced quickly, sizing him up again. He had dark hair, graying at the temples, bluish gray eyes, and sharp cheekbones. When he smiled, he showed off straight white teeth, teeth straight out of an ad for braces.

  The look in his eyes was desperate. He really was in pain. I tapped my pen on the desk knowing intuitively that I needed to help him. I’d want someone to do it for me. I looked again in my book. If I put him ahead of the ten o’clock appointment, he could go right in as soon as Dr. Thurman was done with his nine fifteen gingivitis patient. It would be a squeeze, but something about this man made me want to please him. Maybe it was my kind heart. I found myself pursing my lips, suppressing a smile.

  “I can get you in if you wait about fifteen minutes,” I said.

  He nodded and met my eyes. His direct gaze made me nervous. Blood pounded in my ears and I knew I was blushing.

  “Thank you. Thank you.” He bowed as my face grew hot and red.

  Dr. Thurman’s office smelled like Novocain, a sweet but medicinal scent that all dental offices seemed to carry. I hesitated to take the job because I couldn’t stand the smell, but, with the promise of a half price teeth bleaching and free cleaning, I jumped at the chance. The office was cool and clean. Dr. Thurman was nice. The other receptionist, Claire, was all right to work with despite the fact she was always chewing on candy and most times had a rather snippy personality. She kept a roll of Life Savers in her desk drawer and got catty with me if I dared to take one. She also sucked on Jolly Ranchers, which she kept in a white mug shaped like a tooth. Those candies were always clacking against her teeth.

  Mostly I answered the phone and scheduled appointments. It wasn’t hard work and I met a lot of nice people. I kept busy and earned a paycheck that covered my rent. It was better than sitting in traffic trying to get to auditions where I’d attempt to impress casting directors and then mentally beat myself up because I was too short, too pale, too plain.

  In the office, I sat in front of a beastly looking black box with fifty red lights, a complicated phone system that resembled a flight panel for a NASA space shuttle.

  I was busy whiting out Binky Von Schnabel’s rescheduled tooth bleaching appointment when Leo came into view again.

  “Yes?” I asked, barely glancing up through my long bangs.

  “I want to give you my name. I don’t think I mentioned it before.”

  I held my pen and waited.

  “It’s Leo. Leo Kubias.” He paused, almost like he was waiting for my reaction.

  I nodded, wrote his name down, and went back to working in the appointment book.

  Two minutes later, he was standing in front of me again.

  “I’m sorry.” He laughed, placing his hands on my desk and leaning forward. No wedding band, I noticed. “I didn’t get your name.”

  “It’s Delia.”

  “Nice name. I haven’t heard that before. Are you named after someone?”

  His close proximity and imposing figure made me uncomfortable. Was he flirting? I gazed up to find he was staring down at me. My heart clanged like a church bell under my blouse.

  “I, ummm, I’m sorry, did you need me for something?”

  “Sorry.” He held up his hands and went to the straight-backed gray chairs that lined the mauve wall. He sat in one of the stiff and uncomfortable seats. A muted painting of flowers hung over his head. Glossy magazines were fanned out on a glass table, but he folded his hands and stared down at his leather shoes. There was something about him. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I was intrigued.

  I watched out of the corner of my eye as he got up, unfolding his long body from the chair, and walked over to get a small paper cup of cold water from the water cooler.

  “Don’t you know who that is?” Claire whispered. She handed me a folder for Caroline Simone who was coming in later with an infected root canal. Claire’s breath carried the scent of Cherry Life Savers and I heard the candy clinking against her teeth as she leaned o
ver.

  “I have no idea.” I shrugged.

  “That’s Leo Kubias. Movies? You know? Ever seen him in Los Angeles magazine?” she asked. “Or any magazine for that matter. He’s in the news all the time.”

  I shook my head. With all the times I had auditioned for movies and television, I never met or heard of him. He didn’t look familiar, but he easily could have been at one of the many parties I catered.

  “He’s been voted one of the top ten bachelors in Hollywood,” she continued, never tearing her eyes away from him.

  “Mr. Kubias,” she called out in a sing song voice. “I’ll take you back to Dr. Thurman.” She rushed over and I half expected her curtsy in front of him.

  I was busy for the next forty five minutes or so, putting on my headset and answering the flurry of calls that came in. Actresses with cavities, and actors needing their teeth whitened, a stunt man who lost a front tooth, it was all in a day’s work.

  Leo strolled out, staring directly at me. Ignoring him, I averted my eyes down to the papers on my desk, but the pull of his gaze was like a magnet.

  “Thank you for getting me in. I feel much better.” He gave me a smile and a flush of warmth moved through my body.

  I gave a little nod as I swiveled around in my ergonomically correct seat. Claire seemed to materialize out of nowhere to fawn all over Leo as he paid his bill.

  “Listen, Delia. I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner, to thank you for helping me this morning in my moment of need.”

  Claire left for a moment to run his credit card through the machine and finish up his paperwork, so it was just the two of us. Suddenly, the air was charged with something I couldn’t put my finger on.

  Clearing my throat, I said, “I was only doing my job.” I pretended to look for something in a drawer, in an attempt to hide my nerves. My hands shook and a dribble of sweat ran down my back.

  “Really, I insist. Let me take you to dinner tonight. That is, if you don’t already have plans.” His face was so close to mine that I could see faint razor stubble on his tanned cheeks.

  A lump formed in my throat and I swallowed. When I spoke, my voice was a whisper. “Well . . . I was only doing my job.”

  He put a large hand up. “I insist,” he repeated. Why did I feel like no one ever said no to him?

  I licked my lips and bit my bottom lip as I ran through my options. Finally, I agreed.

  “Just dinner,” I said. “Nothing fancy.”

  We chatted about the when and where of the date and I almost fell over, knowing I would be eating at a restaurant for the first time since I couldn’t even remember. Occasionally, I bought myself fast food, but I had a feeling Leo Kubias wasn’t going to drive me through McDonald’s.

  My brain spun and cartwheeled over the possibilities. If he was taking me somewhere nice, I didn’t have anything to wear.

  When Claire came back up front, she made a bold pass at Leo, jutting her breasts out toward him and winding her hair around her finger, smiling and giggling as she talked to him.

  He nodded politely at her, and then turned to me. “See you tonight, Delia.”

  I pressed my lips together in a grin and nodded.

  He strode out, taking broad strides. When the door closed behind him, Claire let out a long sigh.

  “What is that all about?” she demanded, unrolling a Lifesaver and pausing before she offered me one. It was as if she was parting with a block of gold and I smirked.

  “He asked me out.”

  “Yeah, I figured as much. No offense honey, but . . . you?” Claire was pretty, in her late thirties with highlighted blonde hair and a penchant for silk shirts and tight pants. She wore big gold jewelry that I could not pull off, but it looked good on her. She was divorced but didn’t talk about her ex. Always on the lookout for a single wealthy man, she never turned down the opportunity to date patients. Young, old, toothless, dentures, it didn’t matter.

  I didn’t know what Leo wanted with me; I was nothing special and I told Claire as much.

  Claire stared at me, sizing me up from head to toe. My hair was long; I wore it loose and slightly curly. Although the California sun promised to tan it, my skin was pale because I was almost always indoors working. Unlike Claire’s big jewelry, high heels, and silky clothes, I dressed for comfort at the office, saving my flashier clothes for the weekends.

  “I don’t get it,” Claire said, scratching her head and squinting her eyes. “I mean, you? Over me? Huh.” Her candy clacked against her teeth as she gestured to her outfit and then pointed to me.

  “Sorry, I don’t know either.” I shrugged and turned back to my files and phone calls. For the rest of the morning, she watched me, judging my every move as she crunched on candy with narrowed eyes. I didn’t understand it either. Why me?

  Chapter 9

  Past

  I had no choice but to call in sick for work at the bookstore for that evening. I spent the late afternoon doing something I strongly disliked: shopping. I had nothing to wear for dinner with Leo, I needed to go shopping. My dowdy skirts and button down blouses seemed inappropriate for time spent with someone like Leo Kubias.

  Walking around the mall full of women pushing baby strollers and wearing designer clothes, I was out of place. I wandered aimlessly, staring at the mannequins in the windows, eyeing up the teenagers that rushed by me in their designer jeans and trendy tops. With no idea where to begin, I stepped inside a store with a shiny wooden floor and racks of clothing beyond my budget.

  The eager saleswoman in her silk suit and velvet headband helped me find a luxurious pink cashmere wrap top trimmed with satin, and a pink polka dot skirt. I had to seriously consider spending such a crazy amount of money on one skirt and one shirt.

  “But you look so gorgeous,” she urged me. “The outfit was made for you. That pink with your skin, it’s perfect. How can you afford not to get it?” she asked, carrying the clothes up to the register as I followed behind, biting my nails and counting every penny I was about to part with.

  Never spending more than twenty dollars on anything, I could not wrap my head around charging a couple hundred dollars on my Visa. Pulling out my credit card, I figured I would wear the outfit for a few hours and return it tomorrow. The saleswoman carefully wrapped the clothes in pink tissue paper and handed me a shiny bag with ribbon handles. I was sure to tuck the receipt in my wallet, without it I couldn’t return the outfit and get my money back. As the saleswoman smiled at me, I thought for sure she could sense my sneaky plan and my lip trembled as I thanked her for her help.

  Continuing with my “buy now, return later” rationale, I bought a pair of ninety dollar shoes and a small evening bag along with silver jewelry, thinking that every cent would be refunded when I brought it all back. The girl at the jewelry store rang up the sale and announced the grand total, which made me both hot and dizzy. I spent my money with care, it was foreign to put it all on a credit card when I didn’t have the cash to back it up. My fear was that I’d end up back in Florida with my aunt and cousin again if I ran out of money. That could never happen.

  I felt like a little girl playing dress up when I got ready for my date. I wore my hair loose and curled; I kept my makeup simple and light. I spun around in the mirror and a sad feeling swirled through my body. I wished my mother was here to tell me her thoughts and give me her opinion. I was painfully aware how alone in the world I was without my parents.

  Embarrassed by my shabby apartment, I directed Leo to pick me up outside the building. When I turned the corner, he was standing in the twilight with bunch of orange roses with red tipped petals. The setting sun bathed the street in a tangerine glow and I almost had to pinch myself. Was this real?

  I admired Leo’s suit, which was tailored to fit his tall frame. He complimented my outfit and my face flushed as I thought about bringing it back tomorrow. I prayed I didn’t perspire under the arms of the expensive cashmere. I put three coats of deodorant under each armpit and considered tuc
king tissues under the sleeves so I didn’t sweat on the soft fabric. All I needed was big sweat rings and I would never get my money back.

  He opened the car door for me, which was unexpectedly gallant. Usually my dates didn’t even have cars; we met up in clubs or bars. Leo drove a luxury vehicle with buttery soft leather seats and an excellent sound system; the strains of softly playing classical music were crystal clear. The seats were so comfortable I wanted to curl up and sleep. The car still had a leathery, new car smell and I asked Leo if his car was recently purchased.

  “Yes, I custom ordered it. I traded in the Porsche for something a little more . . . grown up,” he said pursing his lips into a grin.

  “It’s really nice,” I replied and then thought it was a dumb comment to make. Of course he knew it was nice.

  Mozart played on the way to the restaurant, and we made polite small talk as we glided along the streets in his smooth ride. I was not used to windows that I didn’t have to manually roll down, climate control, or even buttons to adjust the comfort of the seat.

  Leo left the car with a valet and held my hand as we walked into the restaurant. Just like in the dental office, my heart hammered and I noted the air was charged with some kind of electricity around Leo.

  “Have you ever been here?” he asked as we walked inside.

  On the inside, I laughed. In-N-Out Burger was fancy to me.

  I shook my head. “No. It looks nice though.” I gave myself a mental head smack. I wasn’t going to win any awards tonight for witty banter. Could I stop using the word nice?

  Glowing candles placed in the middle of each table lit the restaurant and a large stone fireplace with a roaring fire gave a soft illumination. The candlelight was romantic, casting shadows across the faces of men and women sitting at the intimate round tables. The walls were a pale color, the seats were light blue, and a massive chandelier hung in the middle of the room, hundreds of tiny little glittering crystals reflected the light. The effect was elegant and warm. There were random clusters of white flowers in corners and hanging from planters. The wait staff was smartly clad in white. I felt out of place, but I was so hungry that my focus was on getting a good meal.