Angry Annie

by Dawn L. Chiletz

  “What?” I question, certain I heard him wrong.

  “Annie and I go to the same church. She asked me if she could come here a couple of days a week and help stock the shelves. I told her I couldn’t pay her and she said she didn’t mind. She said she just wanted to get out of the house. I understand that. It’s not easy being alone all the time.”

  “She said you called her in to work today.”

  “Nope. She called and asked if she could come in. I got the impression she was trying to avoid something. Do you know what that could be?”

  “Yeah. I’m guessing it’s me. How much do you know about her?”

  “Well . . . she’s pretty private. I know she was going to get married a few years ago and it didn’t happen. I heard he ran off on her then got hit by a train or something.”

  A cold chill runs through my body. I hope that was an expression and not the truth. The look on his face tells me truth.

  “His sister was her best friend. I guess they all worked together at some greeting card place. Annie takes care of her now. Visits her all the time. I can’t think of her name.” He taps his temple and looks up at the ceiling.

  “Thea?”

  “Yeah, Thea. That’s her. Bobby’s little sister. Do you know her?”

  “I’ve met her a couple of times. Are you sure you have your facts straight?” I ask. “I thought Bobby had a heart attack.”

  He shakes his head. “Not that I know of. Only one with heart problems was Annie. He broke it. Everybody said she was never the same.”

  My lungs constrict in my chest. It feels hard to breathe. “Thanks for telling me, Harold.”

  “Now don’t you tell Annie. She’d have me strung up on the roof hangin’ by my man parts, if you know what I mean.”

  I smile. “I do. Don’t worry. I won’t say a word.”

  I pat him on the shoulder as I slowly walk down the aisle. I felt certain I knew all there was to know about Annie McClintonuck. Replaying everything in my mind, I try to force myself into not feeling sorry for her. She’s lied about everything. I’ve paid her a shit-ton of money to tell me about her reviews and she told me she hadn’t written any. Then yesterday, I find out she’s been writing and posting them all along. Who does that shit? She’s lied about a lot of things for no reason at all. I refuse to feel sorry for her. I have to remind myself that her main purpose is to cause pain. It seems like she wants everyone else to feel what she feels. That’s not fair.

  I fire myself up inside. We all have shit that happens in our lives. It doesn’t give us any right to destroy other people just to make ourselves feel better.

  I round a corner and see Annie placing Hostess Ding Dongs on the shelf.

  “Who came up with this name?” she says to me as I approach. “You ever think about that? I wonder if when they were tryin’ to think of what to call it, the creator threw one at his partner and said, ‘You ain’t nothin’ but a ding dong.’”

  I force a smile.

  “What’s got your goat?” she asks. “Trouble in cunnilingus court already?”

  “Annie, when are you going to explain to me why you posted all those reviews and told me you hadn’t written any?” My plan to wait to talk to her later flies out the window along with my patience.

  She raises an eyebrow at me and gives me a glassy stare. “Your sister is crazy. I didn’t leave no new reviews.”

  “Please don’t lie to me.”

  “Oh, really? You wanna talk about lying? How about you tell me when you knew I’d left a review for her bakery?”

  My muscles tense and I clear my throat. “Maybe we should discuss this when you’re done working.”

  “Uh-huh. Maybe we should.”

  She returns to stocking the shelf and my phone vibrates in my pocket.

  Walking toward the front entrance, I answer the call without looking at the ID. “Hello.”

  “I was thinking you and I should go on a date again soon.”

  I smile. “Didn’t you have enough of me earlier?”

  “Earlier? You mean the other night?”

  I glance down at the number and see it’s Adam, not Rhode. I didn’t realize how similar their voices were until just now. “Yeah, um, the other night. That’s what I meant.” My capacity for sticking my foot in my mouth knows no bounds.

  “So what do you say? Can I pick you up again tonight?”

  “Adam, I need to tell you something. I’m kinda seeing—”

  “I did some research for you on that Annie chick. I think you’d find it really interesting.”

  I pause. “What did you find?”

  “How about I come over to your place tonight and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  The last thing I want is to spend another second with Adam, but if he has information that could help me, isn’t it my journalistic responsibility to pursue every avenue? My drive to succeed wins over my heart. “Fine. I’ll see you at seven.”

  I hang up the phone before I can change my mind. I promise myself that as soon as he tells me what he knows, I’ll be honest with him about my feelings. But what exactly am I feeling?

  When I thought it was Rhode calling I was so happy. I can’t remember ever feeling happy before I met him. Was I? He’s a really good person. I want to be good. He makes me want to be better for him. I scratch my head and walk outside. I don’t deserve him.

  It’s stopped raining, but it’s still a gloomy day. I like a dark day sometimes. Right now, the sky matches my heart. Today is my last day with Annie and probably the last time she’ll ever willingly talk to me. If I can figure out how to make this story work, this article gets published, and he figures out who I really am, Rhode will probably want nothing to do with me either. Darla is going to expect something from me come Monday morning. What am I going to do?

  I functioned just fine before I met them. Why should I worry about how they feel? I’m doing my job. Do I need them in my life? I pace outside the store. Why am I suddenly so unsure about everything?

  How many people have ever looked out for what I need besides me? I’ve been on my own for what seems to be my whole life, fighting my way through it all. I’ve made myself into everything I am by working hard and making sacrifices. Why should I stop now when I’m so close?

  Reaching into my purse, I lift out my notebook and read through the notes I’ve been keeping since this whole thing began. As I flip through the pages, I can see how naïve I was. “Angry Annie doesn’t care about anyone but herself. She’s a greedy old woman who carries a torch of hatred for everything around her. She’s the epitome of an Internet troll.” Is that how I feel now that I’ve gotten to know her?

  I can’t second-guess myself. I have a job to do and I need to finish what I started. Screw all these feelings. I’m probably just confused. Darla wants an exposé and that’s exactly what she’s going to get.

  WE DON’T SPEAK ON the way back to Annie’s house. I follow her inside and she doesn’t say a word when I flop down on her couch.

  Stupid swirls around my legs. He’s clean now and purring. I pick him up and kiss him on the head. I’m going to miss him.

  Whatever it is that Annie is doing in her kitchen, it’s loud and annoying. She’s banging pans together and slamming cabinets. Knowing she probably wants my attention, I choose to ignore it.

  I open my purse and take out my bottle of ibuprofen. Just as I open the bottle, something shifts in me and I change my mind. I toss it back into my purse. I think I need to feel all of this.

  I review everything that Harold confided in me and it hurts my heart. Did Bobby really leave her? Was she always this way? Harold said she changed after he died. I wonder if she was ever happy. She doesn’t ever seem to be. I guess I can relate to that.

  My life has consisted of work and avoiding people for the last few years. I’ve had zero social life up until I started following around a little nasty old lady. Since then, I’ve had two men ask me out in the last week. Shit! I remember Adam is going to be at my house
at seven. I need to talk to Annie and finish what I started. Enough is enough.

  Trudging into her kitchen, I see she’s kneading dough. She’s pounding it and flipping it around as if she’s mad at it.

  “What did that bread do to you?” I ask.

  “Say what you gotta say and let’s get this over with.”

  “Fine.” I cross my arms. “You’ve left ten reviews for products this week that I could find. Ten. Yet when I asked you if you’d written any you told me you’d only written one. You knew I needed at least three for this article. Why would you keep them from me?”

  “You asked me if I wrote one for Scotch. I said no. I didn’t say I wasn’t writing others.”

  “Annie, please!”

  “I was going to tell you, but I got busy.”

  “You reviewed a book? Did you read it?”

  “No.”

  “Then why review it? Why would you say something nasty about someone you don’t even know?”

  “Who said it was nasty?” she says, turning to face me.

  I sigh at her.

  She faces her dough and pounds it again.

  “You also left a review for salad tongs. Did that have anything to do with what happened at the dollar store?”

  She shrugs. “Maybe.”

  “But they weren’t even the same brand. You said they were made so cheaply they couldn’t pick up a piece of floss much less a wilted lettuce leaf.”

  “Floss,” she says with a snicker. “Butt floss.”

  “Seriously! Do you realize that other people read the reviews you write? Do you understand the people who make these products rely on the income to survive and feed their families? How do you think it makes an author feel when you say their book is shit and it hasn’t even been released yet?”

  “I never said it was shit. I said she should ‘save’ her money.”

  I lower my head and shake it slowly.

  “I don’t need to explain anything I do to you or anyone else. I have my reasons.”

  I stand and walk over to her. “Tell me then! Tell me why you take so much pleasure in causing other people pain.”

  “You knew I wrote that review for your sister’s bakery before you came here, didn’t you?” she asks as she flips the bread over and adds more flour.

  I rub my forehead, my frustration growing. “You’re changing the subject.”

  “I’m not dumb, Ms. Joslyn Walters, fact-checker. Whatchoo gettin’ out of this article? Because I know ain’t no one just want to know how an old lady writes reviews.”

  I pretend to study the floor so I don’t have to look at her.

  “I don’t care what nobody thinks of me. I haven’t cared in a long time. People talk. They say things. It’s gonna happen. The world isn’t fair, child. You all been brought up to think you deserve an award for showing up. Life is a battle ground and we all have to choose what side we want to be on.”

  “If you’re going to comment on other people’s things, why not say something positive? Why not make the world a better place instead of contributing to its demise?”

  “You don’t know nothin’ about me.”

  “You’re right, I don’t think I do. Do you know what people call you? They call you Angry Annie. Yep, that’s your nickname. Because that’s all you are to everyone, just plain angry.”

  “Get out of my house!”

  Gritting my teeth, I walk over to the couch, reach into my wallet, and pull out five crisp twenty-dollar bills. I quietly put them on her kitchen table, take one last look at her, and walk out her door.

  Rhode’s car is still in the driveway. As much as I’d like to go see him and spill my guts, I know Adam will be coming over soon. I need to find out what he knows. As I walk to my car, I want to toss my lunch. I don’t want to lose Rhode. I do care about him. In some odd way, I actually care about Annie too. What’s happened to me?

  I decide after Adam leaves, I’ll call Rhode and tell him everything. I have to write this article. What choice do I have? My reputation is on the line. If it gets published, he’ll need to understand why I did what I did. He needs to hear it from me. Maybe someday, Annie can forgive me too.

  At seven on the dot, there’s a knock on my door. Begrudgingly I open it to Adam’s smiling face. He’s carrying a bottle of wine.

  “Adam, this isn’t a date.”

  “I’ll take what I can get. I’m going to grow on you, Joss.”

  “Like fungus,” I mumble.

  “What was that?” he asks, leaning in.

  “Nothing. Now what did you want to tell me?”

  “Can we at least have a drink first?”

  I nod and motion toward the kitchen. Opening a drawer, I hand him my cork screw.

  “Nice place,” he says, gazing around.

  As I follow his line of sight, I realize the place does look pretty damn good. After I got home from my parents’ house, I started cleaning. I wanted to think things through and surprisingly, cleaning and thinking worked well together. I don’t know when I ever really cleaned anything before this week. Now my car is clean, my apartment is organized, and even my purse is tidy. It’s amazing what a few days out of a routine can do you for you. Or maybe a few days with a neat freak.

  He pops the cork and I hand him a glass.

  “Do you have another?”

  “I’m not drinking. Adam, please just tell me what you know.”

  He pours the wine and takes a sip, leaning on the counter. “You look different today. I like the waves in your hair.”

  “I got caught in the rain.”

  “It’s not just that. There’s something else that’s changed. You look, I don’t know. Like you’re glowing.”

  Sex. It must be the mind-blowing sex I had today. Or maybe it’s because my heart is changing. Maybe it’s because I’m letting myself feel for the first time in my life.

  “I’d like to be the one who makes your skin glow,” he says, taking a step closer and lifting his hand to touch my face.

  “Adam, no. I’m seeing someone. This isn’t going to happen with us. We’re friends and that’s all.” Phew. It feels good to get that off my chest. When did I start keeping things inside?

  “Friendships change.”

  I swear if he doesn’t stop making small talk he’s going to have to arrest me for assaulting an officer. “You said you had news?”

  “Right.” He nods as he takes another drink. “I did a little research on Annie McClintonuck. As it turns out, it’s not her legal name. Her real name is Annie Gibson. Sometime over the last thirty years she started using McClintonuck, but it’s an alias. It’s one of the reasons you couldn’t find her. The only reason I was able to pull her up was because she filed a report against a neighbor of hers about ten years ago for playing their music too loud. I guess they finally had enough and moved out. They said she was a pain in the ass.”

  “Holy crap!” I rush over to my laptop and search Thea McClintonuck. Sure as shit, her name comes up with her address. I search for Bobby. I need to know the truth.

  Someone knocks on my door. “Do you want me to get that?” Adam asks, motioning to the door.

  “No. Leave it.” I wave him off as they knock again. An article pops up about a train accident. Bobby McClintonuck was killed when he stepped in front of a train. I gasp.

  “You again?”

  I turn my head to see a bouquet of pink roses in someone’s hand. I jump up from my seat.

  “Is Joslyn here?”

  I know that voice. It makes my heart flutter. I bite my nail. What do I do?

  “Yes, she is.”

  “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Well, you did. Again.”

  “Could you give these to her?” He hands the flowers to Adam and spins on his heel.

  “Wait!” I shout.

  He’s halfway down the stairs when I reach him.

  “Rhode, it’s not what it looks like!”

  “Really?” he questions. “Because it l
ooks like I broke in on another date with Officer Not So Friendly.”

  “It’s not a date. I swear,” I say, reaching for his arm.

  “And the other night wasn’t a date either then?”

  “No. Well, yes. Technically it was, but it was only because I had to.”

  “Did you have to sleep with me today too?”

  I grit my teeth and place my hands on my hips. “That was an awful thing to say. You should know the answer to that. Today was amazing.”

  “Not amazing enough for you to accept a date with me. However, you seem to always have time for Adam. I guess the men in uniform always get the girl.”

  “Adam doesn’t get the girl. He doesn’t have me and he never will. The only reason he’s here is because he had info on Annie.”

  “Annie!” He throws his hands in the air, waving the roses. “Why are you so obsessed with her? And what happened between you two? She wasn’t herself tonight.”

  “You saw her?”

  “How do you think I got your address? You know I care about the both of you. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I want to. I really do. But I’m afraid you won’t understand.”

  “I wouldn’t, huh? Does Adam understand?” has asks, motioning to the apartment. He’s pissed. I can tell by the gleam in his eyes.

  I shake my head. I’m saying all the wrong things.

  “Annie told me something tonight about you and I didn’t believe her. She said the article you were writing about her was all a lie. I told her you’d never lie. I said you’d never hurt someone for your own benefit. Please tell me she was wrong about you.”

  My chin dips down and my voice comes out in a whisper. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

  His free hand flies to the top of his head. “So it’s true? You lied to me? You lied to Annie?”

  “I didn’t know you like I do now. I was going to tell you.”

  “Tell me what? That you were using me like you used Annie? For a story? Was the pathetic grass cutter going to get a shout out in this exposition? Were you going to tell the world how I fell for you and wanted to date you while you laughed with your real boyfriend behind my back?”

  “Adam? Adam is just a friend. I swear!”