by Amy Baker
“If you enjoy margarita’s at 10am it is,” Julia informed as she swung her car into the Norstride parking lot and came to an abrupt halt. My body jerked forward and back with the force of her stop.
“You must get your brake pads changed weekly.” I said as I opened the passenger side door.
“Bi.” Julia responded snidely in reference to how often she changed brake pads. “Now, I have some shit to take care of since I was so rudely interrupted. Then I have to whip out an article on how some ding-dong from New York got herself a disorderly in Tremont.” I watched a wicked smile appear on her face as she put the car in drive. “See you back at the ranch,” she somewhat jested with a wink.
I raised my chin in response and barely got my ‘thank you’ out before she started driving away. Luckily the door closed with the force from her acceleration.
I extended my finger to jingle the teeny-weeny gold bell that dangled from the neck of a cat figurine that was frozen in time amidst other bric-a-brac on Julia’s antique hutch. He looked like he was having a grand ol’ time wrestling a ball of yarn. It also looked like the yarn was winning. The keepsake was parked on the middle shelf that sat eye level. The bell made a delightful sound and my mind went straight back to the day she bought it.
I was with her at a street fair. We were young, maybe twelve, and it was one of the first days of spring that was sunny and warm enough to give us a taste of what summer was promising to offer. I was wearing one of my itty-bitty tank shirts (without a bra because I definitely didn’t need one) and a short skirt. We had just purchased ice cream cones from a portable cart that was parked between a soap vendor and a woman who crocheted doilies. The street fair was packed with townspeople young and old. It seemed like anyone who was anyone was out that day. But a certain someone instantly caught my eye. The one. The only. Matthew Rowen. He and his buddies were walking around as if they owned the town, on a high because they were graduating high school. I remember the sadness that enveloped me when I realized that I wouldn’t see him after the summer was over because he would leave for college. Julia must have been tapping me on the shoulder for an hour trying to get my attention to show me this sweet little tabby adorned with a bell that actually jingled around its neck. I turned to Julia to affirm how darling it was so she could feel good about her $.90 cent purchase and when I looked back to see Hugh, he was gone. We strolled around for another hour, me looking for Hugh while Julia babbled on about how she should start collecting cats. But we didn’t see him for the rest of our stay. Then, just as my mother arrived to pick us up, I caught a glimpse of Hugh sitting across the street atop an outdoor bench. His butt was on the back of the bench and his feet were on the seat. His elbows were resting on his knees with his hands clasped together just under his chin. He looked like he was contemplating something big. His glasses were mirrored so I couldn’t be sure what he had his sights on, but with every fiber of my being I wanted to believe that Hugh was looking at me. I even went so far as to lock my eyes on him as we drove past, hoping beyond hope that his gaze would follow my car. And it did for a short spell. But then his head snapped back to where we had been standing. When I turned to see what had caught his attention, the sting of reality pierced my hopeful balloon. Because there, standing at the curb where I had just stood moments before, was Darcy Strong wiggling her fingers in Hugh’s direction. That was the day that Hugh began his relationship with Darcy. And that damn tabby was the most painful reminder.
Chapter 20
Julia’s home was even better than I had first admired. Every square inch of the house was well organized and decorated beautifully. Even the closets were neat and orderly. After changing into the last outfit I had packed and carried on the plane, I made my way to the kitchen to test the ‘how early is too early for a margarita’ theory. I found out that margaritas could be ingested at any point of the day; especially if it was made with fresh strawberries.
Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm. After my second, made with a much-needed second application of salt around the rim (not an easy task with the glass still half full,) my cell phone began to sing in my bag. I could hear the faint rhythm of my theme song emanating from the floor where I dropped my bag as I entered. I folded to my knees in front of my bag and fished out my phone. Fighting the urge to sing along, I slid my finger over the screen to connect the call.
“Helloooo,” I sang feeling happier than I should as a result of my liquid concoction.
There was a brief silence before I heard a deep clearing of a voice. “Delilah?” It was Steven. My old boss.
“Oh, hey, Steven!” I said enthusiastically.
“Hello, Delilah. If you have a minute I, uh, need to talk to you.” If anything, he seemed hesitant to talk to me.
Since he sounded peculiar, I figured he had heard the embarrassing news that I had been expunged from my job before I even started. For some reason I felt an overwhelming need to explain myself. I jumped to standing as if talking to him while I was still parked on the floor would be disrespectful.
“Steven, I didn’t do anything, I swear. And I have never even so much as smoked a cigarette, I sort of swear.” Steven had always been like a father figure to me and the last thing I wanted was for him to be disappointed in me. “I found out they let me go just as I stepped my foot in the door. I didn’t even have a chance to screw up,” I rushed.
Then I heard a separate conversation that was being shared between Steven and…and…was that Logan?
“Dad!”
Dad? Did he just call Steven, Dad? Holy crap!
“I’m telling you, you don’t have the full story,” Logan whined. “Stacey Horner orchestrated the entire thing!” Of course this was followed by an exasperated ‘over’ which was voiced with the frustration of a child who was complaining to his father.
I had never put two and two together. Yes, of course I had known that Logan’s last name was Smith. But who’s wasn’t? I mean, of course, lots of people’s names weren’t but it was such a common name I just assumed it was a coincidence. It certainly explained a lot. No wonder he would never stay fired. His father was an executive in the company.
“Steven?” I questioned even though I already knew the answer. “Is that Logan?” And out of complete habit from hanging around Logan too much I actually said the word ‘over.’
“Holy Cow. He’s got you doing it now?” The sheer aggravation in Steven’s voice was unnerving. “Would you be quiet for a second please?” he continued. “No more ‘overs’!”
I shut myself right up fearing I would further upset my boss, even though he was no longer actually my boss. I always respected Steven, so when he told me to hold my tongue I did what he asked without question. “Now,” he continued after a deep sigh, “explain to me what the hell happened.”
Since I was still following his gag order I didn’t respond.
“Delilah?” Steven asked petulantly. “Are you there?”
“Oh! Yes, I’m here. I thought you were talking to me,” I qualified my silence.
“I was talking to you,” he affirmed haughtily.
“So you want me to be quiet? Or you want me to explain why I got fired,” I questioned with confusion.
I quickly realized that Steven was losing all of his patience. And that was because I could hear the rumble that emanated from his chest before he even began to audibly share is discontent. “I want you to explain to me how you ended up fired from a job that you didn’t want in the first place!” he yelled.
The muscles in my lower jaw flexed pulling my lower lip down to reveal my bottom row of teeth. Oh jeeze. Oh no. Not only had he lost his patience but he was also pissed. At me.
It should be said that Steven was one of those people who didn’t need to raise his voice, like, ever. His mere presence conjured up fear and compliance in any life form that was equipped with a set of lungs. Children, employees, alpacas…you name it, we all cowered. He was tall and he had perfect posture at all times. That in and of itself could scare a person shitless. H
e always looked crisp and put together and at any given moment his jaw would tense like he was trying to contain an inner beast that was just itching to be released. He could make a person acquiescent without uttering a single word. It was an enviable quality but terrifying at the same time.
It was so impressive that I deliberately studied him one day…quietly observing his actions, his movements, his posturing and reaction time. When a person asked him a question, he would pause while staring into their eyes before answering. You could actually see the person shrink in response. Unbelievable. How Logan survived his upbringing was a sheer miracle. It must also be noted that he was the best boss I had ever had. He was honest, complimentary and fair.
“Well,” I began, “I don’t, um, know where to start…” I paused and pursed my lips inhaling a long, faint breath while I tried to calm my nerves and concoct a satisfactory excuse at the same time. But I couldn’t come up with a reasonable defense to save my life. And if that just didn’t say it all. “I, uh, I don’t have a good excuse, Steven. Stacey set things in motion and I was unable to stop the ball from picking up speed down hill. I guess, the truth is, I was afraid what people would think once they found out…you know…found out…that I was duped,” I paused to expel whatever air was left in my lungs. “So I went along with it. Like it was my plan from the start.”
Suddenly it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off of my shoulders and my impersonation of Atlas, metaphorically speaking, was finally over. Since the entire charade began, I hadn’t admitted to myself, or anyone else for that matter, how or why my circumstance had come to pass. So, admitting to Steven that my paralyzing fear, which attributed to my inability to defend myself, was the primary cause was somehow cathartic. Because, the truth was, I let Stacey get away with what she set out to. I could have stood up for myself, put up a fight, laid down the law. But I chose instead to accept my fate. And that was no one’s fault but my own.
My admission was met with silence. I expected a few seconds of silence. Steven being Steven and all. It wasn’t unusual for him to digest information before he responded. But the silence was carrying on a little longer than I would have thought customary. I pulled the phone away from my ear to look at the screen to check if the call was still connected. The timer was still going, two minutes thirty eight seconds and counting, so I was assuming Steven was still there. I swallowed loudly and put the phone back to my ear. I pressed my lips together and continued to wait for Steven’s response. The silence was becoming uncomfortable so I cleared my throat preparing to speak.
“Delilah,” Steven scolded. “Get your ass on a plane. I want you back in my office on Monday morning.”
I opened my mouth to speak but before I could respond, our call was disconnected. My hand went over my mouth in horror. What the hell was I going to do? I couldn’t afford a flight back to New York. But there was no way that I would not be in that office come Monday. “Shit,” I murmured.
Once again, my phone began to ring and vibrate in my hand. I jumped at the sensation and quickly swiped at the screen to make it stop. “H,h,hello?” I stuttered.
“Flight 2142. Sunday. 10:40AM.”
It was Logan. “Logan. What the hell is going on?” I questioned.
“You’re back. Bitch doesn’t know it yet but her time is up. Monday is Dee-Day. Well, you know what I mean,” he answered.
He made it sound so simple. I could practically see his shoulders shrugging as if it was a no brainer. “How…” I began.
“Last year when the job opened up in your office for an assistant, my father made me take the job. He got tired of me hanging out at the skate park all day long. I didn’t really want to work. Especially in an office,” I heard a long sigh. “But after a little while I didn’t mind so much. And that was because of you, Delilah. You were always cool. So if I couldn’t hang at the skate park then you were a nice alternative.”
A small smile appeared on my face knowing that I ranked just as high as the skate park in Logan’s eyes. That was saying something.
Then Logan went on. “Stacey was always a wicked bitch. She doesn’t deserve to get away with what she did to you. So,” he made a noise that gave me the impression that he was pausing for a stretch, “I had to get involved.”
I didn’t respond immediately. I guess out of sheer habit I was waiting for it. But after a few beats I figured he needed some prodding. “You forgot to say ‘over’,” I shared.
I heard a faint chuckle before he responded. “See you Monday, Delilah.”
“Wait. What? No over?” I questioned.
“No over,” he confirmed. “You heard the big man. No more ‘overs.’”
A sense of disappointment took hold in my heart. It was then that I realized that I liked Logan just the way he was. “Logan!” I called before he hung up.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“Your welcome, Delilah. Oh! And I’m sorry about the drug and alcohol story. But it was the only sure fire way to make sure you were, you know, fired.”
“Wait. What? That was you?” I couldn’t conceal the confusion that I was experiencing.
And then I heard it. It was quiet. Almost inaudible but I knew that he said it. The faint whisper hinting that the Logan I had come to love was still there. “Over,” he softly breathed.
A giggle erupted in my throat and a smile commandeered my face. Yes, half of my professional contacts thought I had a drug and alcohol problem. But the half that mattered to me was fighting to get me back. A small slice of satisfaction sunk in at the realization of the lengths that Logan had gone to get me back. And that was when I let my hopes wander. Maybe Stacey and Will would get what their manipulative asses deserved in the end. Only time would tell for certain. “Over,” I whispered back in lieu of goodbye.
I disconnected the call to momentarily stare at the wall. Things were changing so quickly without any coaxing or influence on my part. My head was officially spinning.
Less than a week ago my world was turned upside down. An hour ago I was homeless and jobless living in Virginia with a prolonged stint in a rehab facility in my not to distant future. Now I was heading back to New York and hopefully getting back my old job, which I loved with all of my heart. As this news hit home I immediately went to my call history to dial Hugh in his new office. I couldn’t wait to share the exciting news. I was back in the game. Heading back to the place that for the last few years I considered my home. Returning to New York City to start a life with the love of my life. Suddenly, a demonic expression took over my face and I stopped the progression of the call. Hugh knew nothing of my returning to New York. What a wonderful surprise it would be if I showed up unexpectedly. I threw my phone in my bag and started doing a happy dance. I wasn’t sure what I was looking forward to more. Seeing Hugh’s expression when I surprised him half naked in our new apartment or the look on Stacey’s face when she realized that her plan backfired. That was when I decided to allow myself the thrill of relishing in both. That was until, of course, Julia walked through the front door and caught me celebrating. She looked betrayed. And that was when I realized that all was not rosy in Delilah World.
I knew Julia would not be happy. But I wasn’t expecting full on tears. That was definitely a little surprising.
“You just got here,” she whined throwing her hands on her hips to outline her dismay.
“I know. I’m sorry,” I truly was sorry. The only positive aspect of returning to Virginia had been the idea of spending time with Julia. And in the end, we really hadn’t had much time at all.
“When is your flight?” she asked petulantly adding a stomp of one foot.
“Sunday morning,” a strangled smile curved my lips. “Let’s do something fun tonight,” I suggested hastily. “It’s Friday night. We can go get a great dinner, have a few drinks, laugh about old times. Do some much needed catching up.” I watched as Julia licked her lips considering my suggestion. She wasn’t looking at me so I knew she was stil
l upset. “I have to take it, Jules. I’m pretty sure they are going to give me my old job back.”
“I know!” she stated heatedly. “But I don’t have to like it.” She knew I had to go. She also knew that I knew she had to pour it on thick just in order to inflict the maximum amount of guilt. “It’s just that…I’m going to miss you,” she finally looked up at me and I could see her eyes soften. I offered a more genuine smile because I knew exactly what she meant.
“Me too, Jules. But this time you are going to come up to visit,” I insisted.
“I will,” she said assertively. “If I actually get invited this time.”
Oh jeeze. Sore subject. “I will send you a hand engraved,” I assured.
Hearing the undertones of sarcasm dousing my retort, Julia responded accordingly. “That was a bullshit invitation last time, Delilah!”
And we were off. There was no way that Julia would ever see my version of what happened and I was dog tired of our ridiculous miscommunication. My mind shot straight to my mother who had once told me while sharing her untimely sage advice that sometimes it was easier to just give in. I remembered it like it was yesterday. We were at the park waiting for the arrival of Aunt Dody and we were in the throws of setting up the picnic table for lunch. I was setting down plates while Mama was counting napkins. That was when she came up with one of her more poignant pieces of advice. “Pick your battles, Delilah,” she’d said. Her eyes never left the floral napkins that her fingers were rifling through. “Sometimes it’s easier to just let things go.” Of course, at the time, I had no idea what she was referring to. I couldn’t imagine the napkins were giving her that much trouble that she was willing to forego a battle. But I filed that piece of advice away anyhow, just like all the others, for future use just like everything else she had shared with me.