Disconnected

by J. Cafesin

  Secured my cup between my legs and drove into town. The place was deserted. I stopped at the only diner open, ordered a slice of lemon meringue pie from the tall, thin waitress, wearing a red Santa hat pinned to her dyed platinum hair and sporting crimson lipstick. I waited for her to come back with the slice, took one bite and savored it before going to the payphone on the wall between the bathrooms and calling Colleen's again. Still no answer. Where the hell were they? Lee knew I'd be in by 5:00 on the outside. I called Information but Colleen Messer, at the same number I'd written on the pink post-it, had no address listed.

  I went back to my table. By this time it was 5:30, and dark out. I felt pissed, and scared, and looked around the room, tried to focus on the moment at hand to ground me. The diner was a large rectangular room. It wasn't crowded. Mostly older white couples probably there for the senior discount. Christmas tinsel hung off the chair-rail molding that wrapped the room six feet up the walls. Faux-antique decorative plates set in plastic mistletoe on the fireplace mantle in the back completed the Americana scene.

  God, what am I doing here?

  My waitress delivered my check with a peppy 'Happy New Year,' and a genuine smile. At 6:00p.m. they announced over the P.A. they were closing for the holiday, and I got why she was so cheery. Before leaving the diner I called Colleen's house again. No answer. I must have let it ring fifty times. I called my machine. No messages. Then I called Lee's machine and left one. "Where are you? I have been calling your sisters for two hours and no one answers. I hope everyone's okay, no one's in the hospital or anything." I said sincerely. "I'm in Medford, waiting on directions from you. Please call my machine as soon as you get this message and let me know what's going on."

  Waiting for Face to pee in the open field in back of the diner, I felt more scared than anything else at that point. Any number of horrific things could have happened, from car accidents to heart attacks to random acts of violence. There was no reason to assume he was avoiding me, as I cycled over our recent phone conversations line for line. He'd invited me of his own volition. We'd spoken only hours earlier and he'd reiterated he was excited to see me. Something must have happened. And I felt afraid for him, then for me when I noticed most of the cars had left the parking lot. I whistled for Face, we got in my car and I went looking for another open diner, and smoked a roach among several in the ashtray to slow my racing heart.

  I spied the brightly lit truck stop ahead. The parking lot was filled with Mack trucks, and I felt small in my Honda Civic as I navigated between them. I parked and extinguished the remains of the joint in the ashtray. I had only a few roaches left, enough to roll maybe one small J. And just beyond the buzz lurked the darkness. Until right then I'd never spent New Year's Eve by myself.

  The diner was stark and grimy, the air thick with smoke and the smell of burnt grease. They had a miniature plastic pine tree, blinking with small red and green lights sitting on the counter by the cash register. That was the extent of their holiday decorations. The payphones were near the entrance. It was freezing by the door with people coming in and out as I stood there calling Colleen's. No answer. Tried my machine again. No messages. My buzz was fading and I was barely able to defer my tears.

  I got a booth and ordered a cup of tea from the old haggard waitress, then forced myself to focus on what had to be done instead of crying over what was. I'd get a motel and stay the night, leave first thing in the morning for L.A. There was no point in me staying without being able to reach him or his sister. I'd find out what happened down the line if I just kept calling Colleen's. Images of Lee dying of a heart attack, the EMT zipping the body bag, Colleen and Arlene crying as he's wheeled from their house looped in my head. It was likely I'd never see Lee again. If he died, of course. But if he didn't, without a damn good reason he'd not called me back there was no point in rekindling our friendship. Instead of returning home to racquetball, and a great Tavli partner, an occasional dinner or movie companion, and a confidant I could talk to about almost anything, I was now going home to nobody. My eyes burned, my vision blurred and a few tears escaped. No matter how I spun the future, I was the fat girl in some cruddy flat alone on New Year's Eve.

  It was 9:00p.m. when the little truck stop cafe closed for the holiday. My waitress let me use the payphone one more time before she locked up. After calling Colleen's again, I left another message on Lee's machine that I hoped everything was okay, and that I was going to find a motel in the area for the night and would be leaving in the morning and I'd appreciate a heads-up on what happened.

  There was nothing open and the streets were empty through Medford. The place wasn't exactly a roaring metropolis. I locked Face in the car with food and water. She settled in her sleeping bag as I slammed the hatch then went to checked into the Knights Inn Motel. In the shabby room I called Colleen's again and listened to her phone ring while forcing myself to breathe, and I finally hung up, then called my machine one more time to check my messages.

  "I am so sorry!” Lee's passionate delivery resonated on the recording. “Arlene's dog, Etheridge, pulled the phone cord out of the wall. We didn't know. I waited and waited for you to call. I got really worried, but Colleen kept saying that you were a big girl and used to traveling alone and not to freak out about it. Finally I tried calling my machine to see if you left any messages. That's when we realized the phone was out." He paused.

  I hung up. Exhaustion suddenly engulfed me. I released the deep, shaky breath it felt as if I'd been holding all night, then got up and paced. To slow my heart, mind, and escalating ire, I rolled one last joint out of the roaches I'd collected, but held off sparking it, instead leaving it in the glass ashtray for after a bath. I replayed his message in my head again and again, wrestling with the disconnect between his simple explanation and why it took him six hours to check his machine if he was so worried about me. I felt a twisted smile emerge, acknowledging the smarter part of me that was glad we'd missed each other tonight. If I believed in fate I'd call tonight another chance to get it right and stay away from Lee. Maybe we'd meet up in L.A., still play ball to stay in shape, but that would be all. No dinners. No movies. I absolutely had to quit Lee, or embrace him, us. Anything else was a prick tease, (whether he knew it or not) and I've always abhorred women who are, for debasing all women by promoting the myth that our sexuality is our greatest value.

  The water was just shy of scalding when I eased in. The bath calmed me. It wasn't so bad, just me and my dog. I sat in the tub and listened to people outside on the walkway laughing and partying. Surprisingly, there was no longing. I was safe inside and reveled in the autonomy. I didn't have to put on a smile and pretend I was having fun ringing in the New Year at some party or dance club with people who cared I was there about as much I wanted to be. I may never have been by myself on New Year's Eve, but that didn't mean I wasn't alone on quite a few of them, especially in recent years. I'd been using major holidays as a barometer— mirroring the media scenes somehow defined me as socially acceptable, normal. And I shook my head with the awakening, that it had taken me so long to get to. The truth was, participating in these festivities didn't validate, they undermined me. And I wasn't the poor fat girl watching the ball drop alone if I didn't share the holidays the way TV and movies depicted a young, single woman should. I was more than normal, if I chose to be, worked at becoming. And I scoffed aloud at my idiocy for buying into the media hype all these years, especially when I created it for a living.

  The phone in my room rang at around 10:00p.m. I just laid in the bath. He could wait now, as it was most assuredly Lee since no one else knew where I was. He must have called the few motels around Medford to find me after hearing my last message. He let it continue ringing. I didn't move. It stopped. I smiled. A minute later it rang again. Still I didn't move. But this time he just let it ring. And the ringing was loud, and annoying. Finally I got up, pulled a towel from the metal rack and wrapped it around me as I went to answer the phone.

  "Hello?" I said ca
lmly into the receiver as I sat on the heavy, dark floral print drape-like fabric that covered the lumpy double bed.

  "Hi." He paused, I guess checking my mood. I didn't say anything so he rushed on. "I am so sorry, Ray!” He paused again. I still didn't say anything, my eyes settling on the joint and box of matches in the glass ashtray on the nightstand. “I know you're really pissed right now. And I don't blame you. New Year's got totally wrecked, for all of us, and I'm sorry. What can I do to make it up to you? How about I come over there right now."

  "I don't think that's a good idea." I retrieved the ashtray and put it on the bed next to me.

  "I want to come. I want to make it up to you. Colleen and Arlene do too. They want you to come to breakfast in the morning. They both feel really bad. My sister was just trying to protect me, thinking maybe you decided not to show.” He paused. I couldn't think of anything to say. “If I jam I can probably get there before midnight. The roads are icy, and it'll take me a while, but even if I'm there a minute before, I want to ring in the New Year with you, Ray."

  "Please don't come, Lee. It's late and dangerous and I don't want to go back to worrying you got in a wreck. Tonight was a mistake. I get that, and I'm not mad. I just don't feel like celebrating New Year's Eve anymore. I'm getting ready to crawl into bed and watch a movie. Then I'm going to sleep so I can get up early and head home." I sparked the joint and took a deep hit.

  The Unbearable Lightness of Being was starting on HBO. I had no interest in listening to his rationalizations, even if his 'my dog did it' excuse was true. In all likelihood, he was probably getting buzzed with the ladies while gorging, which tends to distract one's attention from the passing of time.

  "You can't just leave tomorrow. You have to come to my sister's in the morning, if not for my sake, then for theirs. Please don't be pissed.” He paused again.

  “I'm not,” I exhaled, thought of adding more but had nothing else to say, then took another hit off the J. The growing buzz narrowed my focus to the opening of the movie.

  “Then come over here tomorrow morning to ring in the New Year with us." He paused again and I was sure I heard him hitting a joint. “The girls went shopping in town this afternoon and spent a small fortune on an amazing spread for us. And my sister copped some truly spectacular local bud. Please come. Give us a chance to set things right." He paused again, waiting for my response but I didn't offer any. He was pulling me out of 1968 Czechoslovakia and into 1991 at some dive motel in Oregon. "If you don't come Colleen and Arlene will think you're mad at them for what happened tonight. Why do you want to make them feel bad when you're really mad at me?"

  "I don't. And I'm not mad at you." I was more disheartened in me, chasing after Lee when I shouldn't be with him at all. "I'll let you know in the morning.”

  “I'll call you then, probably around 8:00 if that's OK."

  "Fine."

  "Good. Well, happy New Year. And I guess I'll talk to you in the morning then." He wanted to keep the conversation going. I didn't. I was done for the evening.

  Tomáš and Tereza are arguing about his liaison with Sabina in the movie. Everything to Tomáš is relative, meaningless, he tells her to justify his affair. Existence is full of unbearable lightness because it is brief, and entropic. Tereza, a photojournalist during the Soviet occupation of Prague, sees and records the turbulence around her. The violence and anger penetrate her, suck her into darkness. She fears her heaviness pushes Tomáš to other lighter, less complex women, and blames herself for driving him away.

  Even high, the parallel wasn't lost on me, and I felt small, and sad for being the dark cloud of reality the filmmakers portrayed Tereza to be. It was no wonder mentally stable men, like her physician husband, Tomáš, were attracted to the silly, sexy, carefree Sabina, and not women like Tereza and me.

  -

  Chapter 15

  The ringing phone woke me at 7:30 the next morning. "Shit" was the first word out of my mouth. If I believed in omens I'd have acknowledged it as a sign of the year to come.

  "Rachel? Hi. This is Colleen."

  "Oh. Hi." I sat up and took stock of the drab little room, sunlight cutting a sharp line through the thin opening between the heavy curtains.

  "Happy New Year." She sounded cautiously cheerful.

  "Happy New Year."

  "First, I want to apologize about last night. I know Lee told you what happened with Etheridge. And it's not my brother's fault he didn't call you. I kept telling him you were an independent woman, and that women don't like to be coddled anymore, and you'd have called if you were coming. I honestly thought you'd just changed your mind. I was trying to protect my baby brother. I'm sorry. This whole mess is my fault."

  "It's no big deal, Colleen. Really." I clicked on the TV. Of course the Rose Parade coverage had started, though the parade had not. Yet. I could feel the anticipation of the crowd gathering, recalling Michael and I camping on Colorado Blvd overnight for front row seats of the magnificent floats the next morning, the scent of roses preceding the parade by half an hour.

  "Lee felt really bad about what happened last night. So do Arlene and I. We'd like to make it up to you, at least kick off the New Year right. Come over! We have a huge breakfast planned, with champagne, local smoked salmon and even caviar. Come. You won't be sorry." She sounded so sure. "The bacon is crisp, the omelets are made to order and the biscuits are baked from scratch, an old recipe from Arlene's great grandma."

  Other than a six pack of mini powered-sugar donuts that I split with Face, and a pack of Corn Nuts, I'd been living on black tea, diet Coke and weed since I'd left Colorado two days earlier. My mouth literally watered with her enticing invitation. And truth was, I really liked them both, which is rare for me with most women, most people actually. "Sounds great. But I need to talk to your brother. Is he around?"

  She hesitated. I waited. “He's on his way there now,” she finally said.

  “Seriously.” It wasn't a question really. More like a reality check.

  “Yeah. I told him not to let you leave and to convince you come for breakfast if for some reason I couldn't. But I'm hoping I'm your wake-up call, to give you time to get ready before Lee gets there. It's almost impossible to find this place, so he had to come there to lead you back here anyway. He left here 20 minutes ago, so he should be there soon.” She paused. “Hope that's okay.”

  I half-laughed, since her question was arbitrary with Lee on his way. “I guess,” I lied, sighed, suddenly feeling trapped. Sort of. It felt nice I mattered to them, that Lee had come to collect me before I'd even agreed to come. Very Hollywood.

  “...won't be sorry. I promise,” Colleen was saying on the line. “Say you'll come.”

  The battle in my head raged. LEAVE, the smarter part of me screamed, before Lee get's here. But when I peeked through the opening in the heavy drapes at the parking lot below, I saw his Mercedes pulling in and park next to my car.

  I told Colleen her brother had arrived and we disconnected. The second I put the receiver in the cradle the phone rang again.

  "Hi. Happy New Year." Lee said casually.

  "Happy New Year."

  “I'm here. In the lobby, as it is,” he said cautiously. “You talk to Colleen?”

  “Yeah.”

  "You wanta come with me or follow me to her house?" he asked casually, and I felt him smiling through the phone.

  “Give me ten minutes,” I heard myself say. There was no point in holding a grudge and losing a good friend, and the best racquetball partner I've ever had, which I now desperately needed to get back in shape and then stay tight since I was going back to the dating game. And the notion provoked an instant headache. I put on Marc's flannel shirt tucked into worn jeans, my hiking boots and leather jacket completing my lumber jack look. While traveling I generally dressed to blend into the environment.

  It was sunny, but dripping wet with morning due, crisp and cold outside. Lee was waiting for me by his car. He leaned against the back fender of his Mercede
s, his hands tucked deep in the pockets of his leather jacket which he held tightly around him. His jeans hung on his hips, his thick chestnut hair was scattered in his eyes, and stuck out around a gray tweed English cap I'd not seen him wear before. He gave me a tentative smile as I approached. Lee's full, deep red lips, and the touch of pink in his cheeks enhancing his errant newsboy countenance. He looked 17. I'd forgotten how adorable he was. I couldn't help smiling back.

  "I think I've missed that mischievous grin the most. Good to see ya, Ray. Happy New Year."

  "Happy New Year, Lee. Good to see ya, too." I went to the back of my car and opened the hatchback to avoid touching without making the moment awkward. As cute as he was, I didn't feel like hugging Lee, residual anger he'd abandon me last night still lingering.

  Face preened with my strokes, then with my permission bound out of the car and up to Lee wagging her tail wildly. He gave her a quick pat before she took off to the grassy area that separated the street from the parking lot in front of the motel, squatted and peed. I deposited my pack in the back then my camera bag on the passenger seat.

  "Why don't you follow me,” Lee said casually as he went around his car to get in. “The roads are icy around some pretty nasty curves, so don't drive like you usually do." He narrowed his brows at me in mock seriousness, then got behind the wheel and shut his door.

  I called Face and we got in my car and I followed Lee to his sister's house. Agreeing to come was the right thing, I assured myself on the drive there. Blowing off last night's debacle, and welcoming in 1992 with Lee and his family this morning seemed a far better choice then burning my bridges with him, snubbing his family by declining their invite and leaving him standing in the motel's parking lot.

  The roads weren't icy or particularly curvy to me, but I'd been driving daily since I was 15, sometimes all day, for days in a row on road-trips. Even did the two plus miles of switchbacks on Mullholland in 2.9 minutes in Michael's Porsche once, when he was back east visiting his folks. I followed Lee well past the suburbs of Medford, until only the occasional home could be glimpsed tucked into groves of pine and redwoods. He finally turned left onto a dirt road which wove through a thick patch of forest and opened to a clearing with a small, somewhat dilapidated clapboard house. He pulled his Mercedes in front of a brick and glass 'solarium,' obviously added on to the original structure. It was literally leaning, pulling away from the side of the house, cement haphazardly poured into the gap. I parked my car next to his, told Face to stay and joined him. He gave me a quick smile and looked away, and not a word passed between us as we went into the house.