Pink Slips and Glass Slippers

by J. P. Hansen

  “That cough doesn’t sound good.” Chase noticed extra wrinkles and baggy eyes—not her usual perky self.

  “I’m sorry, don’t worry—it’s not contagious. It’s just allergies.” Chase nodded toward Parker and said, “How’s he doing?”

  “You have a great boy. I just love Parker—he’s so well behaved. Can I take him home with me?” Parker beamed and Chase laughed.

  “Nope, I’m taking him to play catch.” Chase put his hand out for a high five with Parker, “Right buddy.”

  “Sounds like fun. You’re lucky Parker. And you are too, Mr. Allman.”

  “Call me Chase.”

  “Only if you call me Betsy.” They both laughed.

  Chase started up his car, “Wave goodbye to Miss Stanton.” Parker swung his hand in the air as they drove off.

  With Raffi blaring silly songs, Chase pulled into the driveway and said, “Wait in the car, I’ll be right back.” He popped his head into the front door to see if Oksana had finished wrapping. Good thing too—she was sprawled on the floor of the family room, cutting and taping.

  Oksana threw herself in front of the gifts, “Mr. Chase, do not come in.”

  “It’s okay, he’s waiting in the car.”

  “Thank you. I ran out of wrapping paper and had to run to the store—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take Parker and Duke to the playground.” Duke jumped to the door and wagged his tail wildly, displaying his true grasp of the English language. Chase stepped out to check on Parker who was waving his hands in the air and singing “Baby Beluga.” He ran upstairs and grabbed a fresh shirt and shoes—with Duke covering him like a basketball press.

  “See ya soon Oksana,” Chase snapped Duke’s leash on.

  “I will be done soon and have dinner ready for you when you get back. Enjoy your walk.”

  Chase breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he didn’t have to endure another Chuck E. Cheese heartburn. It wasn’t exactly a normal home, but Chase knew like he had it better than anything Norman Rockwell could paint.

  After tossing tennis balls, Frisbees, soft-core baseballs, and nerf footballs to Duke and Parker, Chase felt tired and hungry, yet satisfied. Parker darted around, competing with Duke for more throws. Chase laughed, “Do you guys ever get tired?”

  Ambling into the front door, the smell of fresh bread and roast lamb wafted through the air—another delicious Oksana meal. Chase marveled at her cooking prowess, always traditional Ukrainian. He loved the mix of Russian, Turkish, and Polish cuisine. She served homemade breads with funny names that Chase could never pronounce correctly. Parker recalled the names better than his father—it was good to teach Parker about something other than cheese pizza and chicken fingers. Oksana was so different from Heather—who hated to cook anything that took more than five minutes. Chase had long forgotten Heather’s nasty microwave messes.

  Stuffed from another interesting dinner, Chase said goodnight to Oksana, then tucked Parker in bed. After saying special prayers, both boy and dog fell asleep without the usual fight. He gazed at Parker, marveling at his son—growing up too fast.

  Chase felt physically exhausted, but wasn’t ready for bed. He didn’t feel like reading and was never much for watching TV. He headed downstairs to the rarely-used basement. He noticed Oksana’s hiding spot for Parker’s presents and paused, imagining his son’s face lighting up as he opened each gift. This would be a tough birthday to top—thanks to Oksana. Chase entered his wine cellar, wondering the last time he’d been in there. His eyes focused on a vintage cognac. Examining the bottle, he had forgotten he still had it. He released the cork, then poured a few glugs into a snifter. He swirled it three times and, as the reddish liquid lingered on the fine crystal. He inhaled the floral, nutty aroma. Then he eyed the humidor—perfect. As the cognac warmed him, he selected a cigar.

  Relaxing on the deck, the sun had set, but light still lingered like dusk’s shadow. Crickets buzzed in harmony ringing louder than usual into the windless air. A comforting chill replaced the day’s mugginess, complementing his warmth inside. Without Duke by his side demanding attention, he could just sit back and blend in with the surroundings. He cut his cigar and lit it with precision, puffing gently, then sipped his cognac. Bliss. Gratitude filled him as he counted his lucky stars—Parker, Oksana, Betsy, Duke, the house, the place in Hilton Head, his job, car, health…

  Chase’s bliss didn’t last long. A siren in the distance descended Chase into his main problem—Heather. What could I have done differently? I shouldn’t have waited so long to hire a PI. And, Max is about as easy to work with as a rhinoceros. I hope she’s not heading back here—that would really mess Parker up. He’s doing so well right now.

  Glancing at his cell, Chase felt a sudden chill—problem number two. What’s up with Brooke? I want to help her but she won’t answer. And, calling me names doesn’t help matters. Why’s she so emotional? She can’t possibly think I had anything to do with her losing her job. If she’d call, I could line her up with a better job. Damn Greenberg—and Stoddard. Those cold-hearted bastards slaughtered her department. Joke severances that were more miserly than Scrooge. She blames me and I can’t do anything about it. Why won’t she call?

  Maybe I’ll try her one more time.

  ***

  Brooke clicked send, and hoped Travis liked her resume—it took a long time to write it. Her mind kept drifting to Chase and boiling blood didn’t help her concentration. She called Melissa—voicemail. I better go, Melissa had sounded distressed, more so than usual. I hope she’s still there.

  Pulling into the parking lot, Santiago’s Tapas & Martini Bar was packed. Judging from all the loud banter inside, Brooke figured happy hour was still going. She winced, fearing the scolding she expected from Melissa. Stepping into the crowded room, the bar was three deep—these morons would trample over each other to save a buck on a drink they don’t need. She scanned the room, but didn’t spot Melissa. She has to be here somewhere. Craning her neck to see above the crowd, a guy jumped in front of her and chirped, “Can I buy you a drink? Happy hour’s almost over.”

  Brooke stepped back. His breath smelled like his drinks were garnished with onions. He sported that Duke look she despised—upturned collar, baggy khaki’s. Above his smirk, he had those glasses actors wore to look smart but wound up resembling the Verizon guy. “No thanks, I’m meeting someone.”

  Brooke slipped around him as he spoke, “No thanks.” Do people know how ridiculous they sound when they’re drunk? I bet he’s obnoxious even sober. Nearing the bar, she stopped and did a double take.

  Is that Melissa—with a drink? Brooke called for her, but she didn’t flinch. A man was slobbering all over her. I wonder if he knows she’s married—and pregnant. Like trudging through quick sand, Brooke crawled until she bumped into Melissa’s chair. “Hey, you nearly spilled my drink.” Melissa turned in a sneer, then smiled, “Brookeyyy!”

  “Hi, I’m Donald.”

  Brooke ignored Melissa’s Siamese twin and surveyed the counter, then glared at her. “Is that alcohol?”

  “Maybe. Where ya been?” Guessing it wasn’t her first drink, Brooke winced. She reached down and grabbed the half empty glass and sniffed it.

  “Exactly what are you doing?” Brooke’s eyes narrowed.

  “Just having a little fun…with Donald here.” He plopped his arm around Melissa’s shoulder. Brooke pried his arm off, then said, “She’s married—and pregnant. You need to leave.”

  “She’s not wearing a ring and she don’t look pregnant to me.”

  Brooke wiped her face, then glared at Melissa’s empty ring finger. “I’m taking you home.”

  “I’m not going back there—ever again. He cheated on me.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. He cheated on me!”

  “Eddie?”

  Donald looked like he was underwater, trying to watch a ping pong match. He said, “Who’s Eddie?”

  Brooke’s serve, “Her hu
sband.”

  “I’m not married anymore.”

  “Oh, yes you are. C’mon,” Brooke tugged at Melissa’s arm, then he grabbed Melissa’s other arm in a tug of war, “Knock it off—she’s pregnant!” The bar hushed and all nearby eyes descended on them, as if witnessing a gunfight. He raised his hands in the air surrendering as Brooke yanked Melissa away.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Home.” Brooke felt like she was lugging a drowning victim out of the water.

  “I’m not going back to that house.”

  “Fine, but we’re getting out of here.”

  “I can walk, let go.”

  Brooke loosened her grip but still guided Melissa toward the exit. Once outside, Brooke spotted an empty bench and they plopped down together. “What happened between you and Eddie?”

  “I told you. He cheated on me—the night before our wedding.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve had, like, three guys tell me. He did some bimbo at his stupid bachelor party. When I confronted him, all he did was deny it and swear at me—but I could tell he was lying. Now I know why he didn’t want me on our wedding night.”

  “Oh my God. I’m sorry. Is that why you’re drinking?”

  “Yeppers. I’m not having his baby.”

  A couple paused to stare. Melissa’s glare said, mind your own business. They scampered to their car.

  Brooke said, “Look, I know you’re upset and you have every right to be. But do not do that to your baby. I can’t tell you how many times I cry over never having a baby. You and Eddie will work it out. It’s not the first time he’s done something stupid and probably not the last, but that baby doesn’t deserve this.” Brooke’s voice cracked and her eyes stung; Melissa glanced away, then down. They sat in awkward silence.

  Finally, Brooke grabbed Melissa’s hand, “You can stay with me.”

  With quivering lips, Melissa said, “Thanks.”

  Chapter 16

  “Your call cannot be completed as dialed, please hang up and try again.”

  What the hell? He hit redial and pressed his ear against his cell.

  “Your call cannot be completed as dialed, please hang up and try again.”

  That’s strange. Chase wrote Brooke’s number on a napkin, then tried a third time—same message. I wonder if my phone’s messed up?

  Chase called Verizon and after holding forever, he yearned to punch the “Can you hear me now?” guy in the nose; finally, a voice returned on the line.

  “Sir, I think the person you’re trying to reach has blocked your number.”

  Chase pressed the end button, then stared up at the moon wishing it held an answer for the lunacy. He shook his head, then rubbed his weary eyes. He felt his heart sink.

  I hope she doesn’t march into Pharmical and do something stupid.

  ***

  On the drive back to Brooke’s place, Melissa fell asleep. The diversion of unhappy hour took her mind off of Chase, until now. Thoughts flooded into Brooke’s head. She still couldn’t understand Melissa—and despised her destructive side. Drowning her sorrows was bad enough, but risking an unborn baby’s life—unconscionable. Though she detested Eddie, she felt compelled to encourage Melissa to forgive and forget. Brooke yearned to be a mother and couldn’t fathom Melissa’s selfishness.

  Melissa saved me, now it’s my turn to save her—and the baby. If Melissa doesn’t want it, I’ll adopt. I hope he or she doesn’t get too many of Eddie’s genes.

  Brooke pulled into the parking lot and gently shook Melissa’s shoulder to wake her. She growled like a grizzly bear awakened in the middle of hibernation. Groggy and crabby, Melissa staggered inside and crawled into bed, then Brooke set a tall glass of water beside her. Within seconds, her eyes rolled back and she started snoring.

  Brooke collapsed in her own bed, and made the mistake of recounting the day’s events. Images of Melissa sitting at that bar haunted her. Though mortified by Melissa’s actions, Brooke’s mind reached a lucidity—Melissa’s sabotaging stemmed from a deep insecurity. Brooke recognized the feeling. Delving into her friend’s psyche—the root of the crisis—brought Brooke back to when she lost the baby. Before the doctor confirmed the miscarriage, she already knew.

  Somehow, I sabotaged our baby. I was afraid of living alone. Now, I would give anything to just raise Tanner’s child and grow old together. She gazed at Tanner’s picture, peering into his eyes, hoping for a twinkle. He’s gone. I can’t let Melissa make the same mistakes I made.

  Brooke recalled Melissa’s wedding, which turned into an amazing night. I felt alive for the first time in a long time and now, I’m not sabotaging it—Chase is. I’m so confused. How could he go from prince charming to a frog in one day? I thought we had something special, but now, I’m lost. I wonder if he called today. After watching him waltz into that hotel…I’m doing the right thing—I had to block his number. Why can’t I get him out of my head?

  After Brooke finally fell asleep, Tanner visited her once again. It was a college setting, but it felt like the present. She awoke and reached forward, but his image disappeared. As she tried to recall the dream, it only faded further away. She heard Melissa in the bathroom paying the price for her dangerous choices last night.

  Brooke tip-toed over to the closed door and said, “Hey, you okay?”

  “Arrrrrgh.”

  “Do you need anything?” Brooke’s eyes inspected the door as if she had X-ray vision.

  “No, I just threw up. I’m never doing that again.”

  Brooke wasn’t sure what that meant, but hoped it was all-encompassing. Now wasn’t the time to badger Melissa—she sensed this was morning sickness times ten, “I’m here. Let me know if you need anything.” Melissa growled, then wretched again.

  After a few minutes, Brooke heard water running, hoping the worst was over for Melissa—in more ways than one. The bathroom door swung open and Brooke gasped. Her best friend looked stunning less than a week ago, but now Melissa could scare Stephen King. Struggling with each step, her white face and purple lips rivaled a corpse.

  “Are you feeling any better?”

  “I look like hell, but feel better.”

  “You look fine,” Brooke lied.

  Melissa cringed, “Yeah, right. You’re a worse liar than Eddie.”

  Melissa plopped down on the corner of Brooke’s unmade bed, ashamed. She raised her red eyes to Brooke, then said, “I thought about what you said and I feel so…terrible. Do you hate me?”

  Brooke’s face softened, “No, of course I don’t hate you. I think I know what you’re going through.”

  “I hope I didn’t hurt this baby,” Melissa glanced down and circled her hand around her belly, “I’m scheduled for a sonogram on Monday. I was gonna drag Eddie along, but not now.”

  Brooke didn’t want to mention Eddie until Melissa seemed stable. “No, you have to bring Eddie. I’ll go another time. You and Eddie need to talk.”

  Melissa raised an eyebrow, “Talk about what? He cheated on me. I thought you’d tell me to dump him. Now, you want me to just ignore it like it didn’t happen?”

  “I’m not telling you to ignore anything. But, I didn’t stand there as your maid of honor to watch you two lose everything. Eddie screwed up, no question about it. But you love him. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but I remember him crying on my shoulder once, afraid he was going to lose you. He’s far from perfect, but deep down, he’s got a great heart. There’s not a day that goes by when I don’t wish I had a husband and kids.” Brooke’s eyes moistened, then she glanced up.

  “You must be psychic or something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Melissa inhaled deeply, “I had a nightmare that shook me up last night. It seemed so real. My baby was drowning in a pool and I couldn’t move. It was a boy and he kept looking at me, saying ‘mommy, I can’t swim, help me mommy.’ Then, just as he slipped under water, Eddie flew through the air and scooped him out. When I woke
up, I was crying. Relieved it was only a dream, I felt this wave of compassion.”

  “God works in mysterious ways.”

  “You really do believe in God—I thought you quit going to church.”

  “I still go once in a while, but I don’t need a priest to teach me about right and wrong. And what’s right is for you to forgive Eddie. There’s a reason you married him—that’s love.”

  “Well, I hope that the God you’re talking about will keep me from cutting off Eddie’s penis.”

  Brooke giggled, then said, “Don’t have your talk in the kitchen.”

  Melissa laughed and Brooke sensed a congeniality—quite a departure from yesterday. Brooke said, “Speaking of kitchens, I’m starving. I’ve been dying to go to Waffle House.”

  Melissa swallowed hard, “Just the thought of food makes me want to vomit.”

  Melissa pursed her lips together, “I’ll go with you, but don’t expect me to eat anything.”

  The blueberry waffle with bacon landed in front of Brooke like a magic carpet. She spread a pat of butter, then emptied a syrup container around the steaming waffle. Brooke sliced a few pieces; the anticipation caused her mouth to water. Melissa reached across the table and stabbed the largest piece, smiling as she stuffed it in her mouth in one bite.

  “Hey, get your own,” Brooke smiled then paused to watch with her mouth open.

  Melissa devoured it, then said, “Mmmmm.”

  “Do you want me to order you one?”

  “No, I’ll just share yours,” she muffled, still chewing.

  For the next few minutes, they were in a frenzied fencing tournament until the last piece ended up on Melissa’s fork. Brooke laughed, then after Melissa swallowed, she giggled. The coloring had returned to Melissa’s face, and even without makeup, she looked good. Sharing the naughty breakfast, Brooke felt full—and vindicated. She had revived her friend.

  Brooke said, “Now that you’ve got a full stomach, get out of here and go see Eddie—before we order another waffle.”

  “Not so fast, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me about your little rendezvous.”