by Cj Paul
Geronimo is acting even more bizarrely than usual. He has started purchasing things for our home. Were I ever to be interested in him romantically, his choices on my behalf would be a deal-breaker. His idea of my taste is something out of an 80’s comedy. He seems to think I would favor a peach and teal color scheme with lots of frills and ruffles. And chotchkies – tons of chotchkies. I’m waiting for the kewpie dolls to make an appearance and oh...oh! I nearly forgot! He sent away for a pricey Precious Moments bride and groom figurine set as a wedding cake topper. He’s told me he takes it out occasionally in enthusiastic anticipation of the day, then carefully re-wraps the pair in tissue and replaces them in their original box and bag – unfortunately, without intent to return them for a refund.
He has also come up with the specific date on which we are to be married, a few months hence. He hasn’t told me when exactly, but whenever it is, I plan to be out of town. He even gave me a ring – to give to him – for me to place on his finger during the wedding ceremony! Through it all, I have become increasingly shrewish, reminding him that while I care about him very much, it’s solely as a friend. And because we are ‘friends’ I discuss other men with him, knowing it’s rude, but trying to burst his LaLa-Land bubble. I eventually tell him in no uncertain terms that I will never in this lifetime, or any other, be with him romantically, especially as a married couple. He laughs uproariously and simply repeats his mantra, “patience,” with contented assurance.
The fellows online have been murmuring as usual. Stuart from the UK has taken to inventing strange, unnecessary kitchen gadgets in hopes of raising funds to come to the States and sweep me off my feet ‘Sinatra style,’ whatever that means exactly. Instead of socking away any cash, the dear chap has actually gone into debt on patents for his funny little inventions. Sadly, no one has expressed interest in any of his gizmos – not even close friends and family!
Ed, the line-dancing birdwatcher, whom I enjoy picturing engaging in both of those activities simultaneously, has been making advances in awkward fits and starts. He has recently read the 1990’s women’s Bible, The Rules, and continually informs me what I really think, feel, want and expect from men and life. His presumptions have yet to hit the mark. The icing on the cake is his proud declaration that he has acquired a prescription for Viagra *wink wink*. Ugh!
Thank goodness for Alex. He is always inspiring, engaging and entertaining. Gad, how the heck did his name wander into a rumination of my potential paramours? He’s just a Facebook friend whose posts I enjoy. In fact, I wonder what’s on his page right now.
My chortling elicits a hiss from Jasper. Alex is always good for a chuckle ...or flirty giggle. It’s so refreshing to come across a man who seems cool and confident, smart and sensual, deep and desirous, and generally, a very good egg. April would get a kick out of some of his recent posts. I miss the outrageous comment battles we used to wage together on Facebook, but, since her account got hacked, she has more or less left the site, too busy to fritter away her time as we once did together. At least she still texts occasionally or I’d never hear from her. She is the female perspective I crave given that so many of my friends are males these days. It certainly hasn’t been by choice that my friendships have skewed masculine. With the success of the talk show, it’s become more and more difficult to cultivate quality relationships with women. They tend to either use me as their personal shrink, are competitive with me, or more laughable yet, are intimidated by me – which I will never understand. I used to socialize with Danielle, my producer at the radio station, but she moved out of state for a great new job and we haven’t managed to keep in touch.
But, no matter. I’ve made a few engaging female friends online. And, loathe as I am to admit it, Mom and I have become closer – ever since the muddied white pants incident. Her reaction was not one of anger. Just the opposite. It was respect! That snarky, passive-aggressive maneuver on my part caused my own mother to treat me with kindness and compassion for the first time in my life. Heck, if I’d known that’s all it would take, I would have pelted her with mud pies years ago!
Mom and I have been spending a lot more time together, including quiet time. We have grown to enjoy one another’s company to the point that we’ll spend afternoons together, each doing our own thing. Every now and then, she will hear me guffaw about something I notice on Facebook and she’ll ask to see it for herself. Just last week she called late at night to tell me she’d made a decision – she wants a Facebook account and I have the privilege of setting it up for her.
When I do so, she enjoys it so much that she has me create accounts for most of her church buddies, who have collectively become instant addicts. Mom’s even found Farmville and, begrudgingly, I feel obliged to show her the ropes, which I’d learned from my own obsession with the game during my first weeks on Facebook. Soon, Mom’s farm is the envy of all her friends, and she is quite satisfied and smug about its awesomeness. Deja vu.
Mom has invited me to be friends on Facebook and our relationship momentarily reverts to its antagonistic former state when I decline her kind offer. I give some lame excuse about only using the site for business and how she’d be bored by all of my business posts. She’s not buying it. When I tell her that I don’t even interact with April there, she seems somewhat placated. While she likes April as a person, my mom has always harbored a hefty dose of jealousy when it comes to anyone who steals a piece of my heart or large chunks of my time. In fact, she reminds me a lot of my pup Persephone in some ways. The thought makes me laugh aloud, considering how anti-pet my mom is. Having spent many summers on her grandparents’ farm, she just can’t seem to embrace the concept of having animals around, unless they are to fatten up for a family meal.
It really has been fun getting to know Mom. Turns out she was something of a wild child in her early twenties. Though a teetotaler now, she’s been sharing old photos with me, and I’ve seen some mighty glamorous snapshots of her back in the day. This is a side of her I haven’t seen, photos in which she’s fettaskettering and casamotoring – her crowd’s underground lingo for ‘smoking’ and ‘drinking.’ Wow, she was beautiful – movie star beautiful, actually.
Two topics she has not changed her opinions on over the years are religion and sex. She was very involved in her church’s youth ministry growing up, and is equally involved with church-related activities now. All of her friends are from her church, and Mom is on more committees than I can list, some with long and preposterous names that I claim to forget just so I can ask her to repeat them for my amusement. They crack me up in the same way Dickens’ fictitious business name, The United Metropolitan Improved Hot Muffin and Crumpet Baking and Punctual Delivery Company, does in Nicholas Nickleby.
Her favorite part of church work is the Flower Committee, and rumor has it, the pastor has thanked me in front of the congregation for the lovely floral arrangements I’ve donated to the church. Donation, nothing – Mother’s been pilfering my flowers!
As for Mom’s view of sex, well… let’s just say that she’s appalled that I would ever patronize a movie that is rated R, or that has partial nudity. If she ever found out that I wore a thong bikini to the beach in my college days, she would surely cut me out of her will.
I would swear on a stack of Bibles – King James’ version, in deference to Mom – that she only had sex twice in her whole life: when she conceived my sister and when she conceived me. We rarely talk about Erica. She was much older than I, and died as a young woman. While we never got the chance to get to know each other as well as I would have liked, I was very fond of her. She was a hoot! Mom and she weren’t particularly close and I’ve always found it odd that Mom didn’t make more of an effort to bond with me, considering what she’d been through. Then again, maybe she did try to get close to me in her own way. If that’s the case, it’s finally paid off because at this point in my life, I couldn’t ask for a better mother.
During our hangout sessions, which now take place two or three times a wee
k, Mom loves to creep up behind me to look over my shoulder at the computer screen, especially if I’m cracking up about something or smiling stupidly. She’s a stealthy little thing, part ninja really. Every now and again, she manages to sneak up on me completely unawares, and I nearly jump out of my skin when she asks too loudly, right by my ear, “Whatcha lookin’ at?” It wouldn’t really be a problem, but she has an uncanny knack for doing it exactly when I’m viewing something racy. The saving grace is that when there’s raunch in written form only, without imagery to back it up, she never gets what the content is about. Thank heavens she doesn’t watch current network TV or she would catch on more readily than my comfort zone could tolerate.
All in all, it’s quite lovely having my mom as my new best friend. And my garden has never looked lovelier.
Chapter TenDear Claire,
There’s this guy I really like. We’re going on our first date tomorrow and he’s cooking dinner for me and everything. I am really excited but I’m also scared to death. He’s really smart and worldly and I don’t know how to act or what to talk about or wear. Help!!!
Signed, Kelly
“Sweet Kelly, just relax. Be yourself and have fun! Try not to think too much and remember to breathe. If you find yourself getting nervous, just turn your attention to what he’s saying and really listen to him. He must be interested in you or he wouldn’t have invited you in the first place. And any man who offers to cook for you is worth his weight in beans. Now go have a wonderful time and report back afterwards. I want to hear all about it!
“Well, that ends today’s show, cheries. Please join me next week for our topic: Genie Wishes – How to make dreams come true for both you and your man. Ciao for now. Mwah!”
Well that was easy! In fact, that was probably the most effortless response I can remember giving on my show. Time for a little victory celebration. Let’s see. I could do with something fruity today. Citrusy perhaps. Light-bodied, not too dry. Definitely something with a full bouquet. B&J’s Lemonade Sorbet it is. And a relaxing visit to my new favorite hangout: Alex’s Facebook page.
I click on his page’s link, praying that those sites promising to show you exactly who is looking at your page are scams. Otherwise, I will have lots of explaining to do to him. His latest post is of the comedic variety.
That was pretty funny and rather coincidental, given I’m eating something lemony as I read it. Great minds and all.
Next up is a note from a guy named Ken. I think I read this one already but what the heck...
Oh my gosh! Everything Alex wrote is almost exactly what I just said to Kelly! And my quip about a man being worth his weight in beans? I must have gotten that from this guy Ken’s post! Good grief! I just plagiarized Alex on my show!
* * *
My house has never looked more beautiful. Mom really has exquisite taste, and with her prodding I’ve been tending to the pretty, little design details that make a house a home. She has made it clear that the purpose of all this better homes and gardens work is to attract and land a man. Oy. If she really knew my current take on romance she would give up the ghost – and undoubtedly come back to haunt me mercilessly.
These days, I am pretty darn content with things just the way they are. Geronimo has taken on a position of responsibility with the homeless shelter where he volunteers, and when he makes the occasional call to me, it is always to regale me with stories about work and volunteering, or to ask me to collect bottles, cans and now, shoes for his favorite philanthropies. Bret has managed to get his wife pregnant again, and yet was still pursuing me until the little woman caught onto his antics and put a stop to them. It all came down when she found his second cell phone and called every number in it. Evidently, there were many, including mine.
London-boy Stuart has found a sweet little shop girl who works a couple of doors down from his bookstore, and has changed his status to ‘in a relationship.’ And Ed, well, Ed has started dying his remaining hair in strange and wondrous ways to look younger. He’s also purchased a TransAm T-top muscle car and switched from line dancing to salsa.
Basically, it’s all quiet on the flirt front, and whatever titillation I desire I get from the bawdy comments left on Alex’s wall by his harem. Like bees to honey, moths to flame, intelligent, strong and interesting women flock to Alex, and stay there. In addition to his inspiring ‘brothers and sisters’ posts, poetry, and witty banter, I get an enormous kick out of his bawdier missives. He is a master of the salacious tease, writing about something innocuous in the most deliciously dangerous ways possible. He literally has women eating out of his hand.
His current post and its attendant thread are a doozy, and though I try to hang back playing the voyeur, even I sometimes became ensnared in his web.
* * *
Ever since Alex’s Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie post, I find myself distracted more often. The friendly cashier at Starbucks has to ask, “Can I get a drink started for you?” three times before I clue into the fact that he is talking to me, even though I am at the counter and looking right at him. Same goes for the barista who calls my name repeatedly to let me know my Mocha is ready.
At home, I’ve been equally befuddled, leaving my keys in the freezer, putting the milk in the cupboard, donning shirts inside out, feeding dog kibble to the birds, and engaging in all manner of other silly backwardness. Despite my current spate of airheadedness, or perhaps because of it, I find I am managing my days with elan and good-natured nonchalance. There is a quiet confidence beginning to grow in me, as well as a recklessness. And I notice myself thinking of pie more frequently than ice cream.
I’ve also effortlessly and inadvertently adopted the habit of having all of my show preparations completed by teatime Monday, as opposed to the manic blitz I used to begin the night before broadcast. I’ve started wearing my hair down more often. I’ve even caught myself reading the labels on mascara tubes. My mom says it’s my biological clock’s alarm going off and that I better pay heed before it runs out of batteries.
I considered that I may have a case of spring fever, but we are now into sultry summer. Ahhhh, that must be it – the warmth, sweatiness and clothing-light lust of the year’s hot and humid dog days.
I’ve even found myself laughing at people’s jokes more often, and I don’t mean the good ones. All in all, I am pleased and grateful for my increased joie de vivre – quite a departure from the ennui of a few months back. I especially like how it has impacted my show. I handle write-in advice questions with much greater aplomb and much less militance. I’m even delighted when he’s-cooking-me-dinner Kelly – to whom I unwittingly gave advice I’d plagiarized from Alex’s wall – calls back to tell how she made out with her man, in a manner of speaking.
“Hello, hello? Can you hear me?” she chirps.
“Hi, Kelly. Yes, we can all hear you now. You’re live on the air.”
“Oh my golly, this is such a treat. I am your number one fan, Claire.”
“Haha I take it that means your date went well?” I ask.
“No I mean fan of the show. Umm, but yeh, the date was...
“That good, huh?” I respond wryly. “How was the dinner he made for you, dear?”
“Oh my goodness, it was so delicious! He made all sorts of things that he knew I loved. Brisket and corn and beans and he even made my favorite pie! Strawberry-rhubarb – from scratch! He was writing about it on Facebook while he was making it and all these women were drooling and getting hot and bothered. All the comments made me so nervous I had to leave the conversation.
Something snaps in my brain and instantly I know. Dinner-date dude is Alexander Armstrong.
Chapter ElevenA Lover's Plea
Take my hand and walk with me
Beneath the porcelain midnight moon
Who heavily sighs in Elysiac skies,
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And blushes, dimming as you pass.
Take my mouth and speak with me
In summer's midday splendid light
Though Phoebus pales and groans, dismayed
And gathers clouds to hide his shame.
Take my heart and love with me
In eldritch endless wildflower fields
Though poets bow and 'lease their quills
And songbirds, silenced, learn to sing.
Take my flesh and lay with me
Through reckless honeyed eternal nights
Though dawn herself should pause and bend
To savor the loft of our desire's heights.
Take my soul and be with me
Take all I am, to have and hold
Drenched in the pearls of your precious grace
Your Heaven will shine upon my face
And take me.
AVA
So begins another day as I struggle to open my eyes, crack open my laptop, click on my Facebook page, and find this first post in my newsfeed, the low gurgling groans of brewing coffee serving as soundtrack to the scene.
I finish reading Alex’s exquisite poem just as the coffee maker goes silent. I venture to the kitchen to pour a large mug full of Peet’s Arabian Mocha Java, which suits my mood perfectly. It isn’t till I feel the sting of hot coffee trickling down my shin that I realize I have long since overfilled the mug and the precious java is spreading its way equally across the kitchen counter and floor.