CiCi gets up and goes up by the DJ’s to look through the song choices. CiCi sings? Hmm. I bring my eyes back to Mitch who is staring at me like I’ve got eight heads. Charlotte is glaring as opposed to staring. I shrug. Charlotte mouths Asshole at me.
“We have CiCi up at the mic!” the DJ announces. Guess there wasn’t a long wait! We all turn to give our attention to her up on stage. Within seconds, the music is playing and she starts singing. God . . . she has a beautiful voice. She’s singing “Human” by Christina Perri. I love this song. She’s staring right at me as she sings about losing her strength to not be vulnerable. My heart aches. I want to run up to the stage. I want to save her from whatever negative thought that is keeping her from being with me. I pull away from Paige as CiCi continues to sing. Jesus—she’s fucking running her tongue up my neck. It’s annoying. I give her a look to knock it off. She giggles. Idiot. My eyes go back to CiCi. She’s amazing. You would think this was her song!
CiCi finishes the song and the room claps their hands off for her. Some guy Woot Woos for her. I scan the room to find this guy who is woot wooing my girl. My girl? What am I thinking? She’s not my girl. She doesn’t want to be my girl. I wish I was a quitter. I’d find it much easier to walk away from her. But . . . I’m not. I’ve just got to find a way to reach her.
Think.
Suddenly, it hits me! As soon as CiCi sits down, I get up and head to the front by the DJ. I request a song and due the earliness of the evening, I’m able to go right up. “This is for you, Ceese.” I say before the song comes on. I want to make sure Giggles doesn’t get the wrong idea. I can see CiCi’s rapid breathing from here. She’s seems unsure—uncomfortable. Yet, I can tell she’s glued to her seat. The music begins and I don’t take my eyes off her as I sing “Perfect” by Pink to her. She seems shocked. The whole table seems shocked.
Yeah. I know my way around a note or two!
CiCi starts chewing at the inside of her cheek. Nasty habit but I love it. It tells me that a window is being cracked open. It’s a small crack, but it’s opening. How long will I have before she slams it shut again? I finish the song and am a little taken aback by the applause I receive.
“Dude, I’m booking you for the company Christmas party! We’ll call you the singing ninja.” Mitch laughs. Asshole. I offer my usual salute of a smirk and hand gesture. He unloads both barrels at me. I sit next to Paige, still laughing at Mitch. CiCi and I lock eyes. My smile drops. My heart races. I lick my bottom lip slowly. She does the same. If anybody is talking to me, I couldn’t tell you what they are saying. The only person in this room is CiCi. “Stay” by Rhianna and Chris Brown plays in the background. Ever have that moment when you’re feeling a certain way that is indescribable then . . . out of nowhere . . . the perfect song comes on. No other words needed. The song explains everything. Our eyes stay focused on each other’s.
Making love.
“Can you take me home, please?” Paige elbows me. I break away from my stare down with CiCi to look at Paige. Oh, she’s not happy . . . at all!
“Yeah, sure.” I nod. She stands up and grabs her purse aggressively before slamming her chair under the table. She storms off to the door to exit.
“I’m guessing there won’t be a second date.” Mitch says as he watches her.
I stare at CiCi—locking eyes with her again. “There should’ve never been a first one,” I say then proceed to follow Paige.
“Is she your ex-girlfriend? Did you know she was coming here? Did you only kiss me to make her jealous? Do you even like me? Did you really even want to go out with me? Why didn’t you just take me home if you didn’t want to be here with me? Are you going to answer me?” Paige unloads her questions like her mouth is a Tommy gun. I stand here staring at her—mouth open. “Kyle!” she yells.
“Get in the car, Paige,” is all I say and hit the unlock button. She gets in angrily. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting her to be here. But I do have feelings for her that I can’t seem to quash. It wasn’t my intention to use you. I mean, I’m not using you. I don’t think it will be wise for me to pursue you. It wouldn’t be fair to you.” I say after I start up the car and start driving away.
“So, what was this?” She throws her hand out.
“This was me, trying to move on from her. I’m sorry, Paige.” I give her the courtesy of a glance while I apologize. “I should’ve never taken someone out from the office. Isn’t that, like, rule number one—don’t date co-workers?”
“Yeah, well, it’s not an easy rule to follow when the only people you ever meet are co-workers. Let’s face it, Kyle; we’re both slaves to our job. When and where are we supposed to meet someone? I’m not down with the online thing,” she states. I think she’s finally calming down. She actually isn’t too bad when she’s not giggling every minute. Ok, yes—she still has Twiki hair.
“I guess you’re right.” I shrug.
“Do you want to talk about her?” I see her cringe a bit out of my peripheral vision.
“Uh. No. There’s really not much to say, except that she has a wall up that I keep trying to knock down.” I jump onto the highway. Within ten minutes, I’m turning off at her exit.
“Kyle,” she speaks up again.
“Yeah.” I glance over.
“I really like you.”
“Uh, Paige—”
“No. I know.” She waves her hand dismissively. “I just want to put this out there.” She takes in a deep breath. “When and if you are done chasing her. If I’m free,” she adds quickly. “Don’t hesitate to ask me out again.” She gives me a half smile as I pull up to her house. Wow. I was not expecting that. I don’t even know what to say.
“Um, ok. Thanks, Paige.” I give her a curt nod.
“Goodnight.” She smiles and leans over to me for what I like to call awkward hug. You know what I’m talking about. She gets out and we both follow up with awkward wave. I head off—not fast enough—believe me.
I have to say, I’m fighting every fiber of my being, not to go straight to CiCi’s. I doubt that will help. So, I’m going to take this drive home to do what I do best—analyze. What do I know about CiCi so far? When in doubt . . . always find something you can use to your benefit.
She loves animals.
She loves my sister (what a huge bonus that is!)
She can sing her ass off.
She’s beautiful.
Has amazing eyes.
Gives good ball hold. (Yeah, I still think about it!)
Her kiss makes me breathless.
Mmm . . . her curves.
Shit! I’ve gotten off track. Ok animals, my sister, and music. I’ll start there!
“CiCi! You back there?” I hear Todd, my mailman, yell from the front of the store. I put Gimpy (terrible name, right? Poor thing!) back into his cage and hit the fan for him to dry off. Grabbing a hand towel to dry off myself, I head out front.
“Hey, Todd, what’s up, man?” I ask as he hands me a huge stack of letters, magazines, etc.
“I have a few boxes for you, too.” He smiles and kicks them gently. “Also, I need you to sign this certified letter.” He turns it over for me to sign the postcard attached to it. Oh boy! Never good news!
“Thanks, Todd!” I try to put on my fake smile as I flip through all of the bills with colorful papers beaming through the windows. Yeah, you know what that means. Ugh! Todd bids me a good day and heads out.
I slump down into my chair and slowly open up the stack, putting it in some sort of order. I don’t know how I’m going to pay for any of this but putting it in order makes me feel like I have a plan.
“Hi, Ceese!” Lindsey walks through the door—cheerful as ever. I love this girl. She’s so good with the animals. They trust her. I trust her. But . . . I should not have hired her. I don’t know what I was thinking. Sometimes, you’ve just got to face the facts, no matter how hard they are to face.
“Hi, Linz!” I get up and give her a hug. I still find it strange that I like to hug
her. There are only certain people I will hug. Hell, I hate hugging my own twin! I don’t know . . . there’s something so special about her. Makes me want to recite cheesy lines from movies.
“Is Gimpy here?” She smiles as we head to the back.
“Yes. I had to put him in the cage because Todd stopped by. You want to take him out and give him the royal treatment?” I ask.
“Yes! Of course!” she says and puts her stuff in the cabinet we use for personal shit. “Hold on, Gimpy!” She smiles over her shoulder to him.
I need to leave the room.
I can’t let her go. I have to figure out something. I can’t afford to keep her on. I thought business would pick up from last month’s charity event but it hasn’t. Fuck these tears that are forming.
Just then, a man comes in through the door. “CiCi O’Brien?” he asks.
“Yes?”
“Kyle Cooper has a message for you,” he says. He then stands up straight, clears his throat, and blows a note into a harmonica and proceeds to sing “Get Me Some of That” by Thomas Rhett.
I stare blankly.
After a few minutes, he finishes. He stares at me. “Is that all?” I ask.
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiles.
“Well, thank you. Um, you have a nice voice.” Awkward!
“Thank you! I’ll see you tomorrow then!” he offers and begins to head out.
“Wait!” I stop him. “Why will I see you tomorrow?”
“I’m scheduled to sing to you again.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. I don’t ask why. I just collect my pay for a song and a smile.”
“How old are you?” He’s like a seventeen-year-old, trapped in old man’s clothes. Fucking bowtie and all! He’s a cute kid, though. Brown hair that could use a cut and blue eyes.
“Twenty. I have a girlfriend, though.”
“Oh. Wait . . . what? I wasn’t picking you up!” I say shocked.
“Too bad.” He looks me up and down before he takes off. Yeah, I’m not going to lie—total ego boost!
“Was that the singer my brother was sending you?” Linz says from behind me. I turn around quickly.
“Apparently.”
“Kyle really likes you.” She smiles and winks at me before she heads to the back again.
“Guess so,” I say under my breath as I follow her.
“Are you just going to sit there and stare at me or are you going to talk?” Maddie asks across from me at her desk. She takes a swig of coffee.
“Every day for a week now,” is all I say.
“Ok.” She smiles. “Can we have that in English now?”
“He sends me singing assholes, every day.” I bounce my knee.
“You know I’m actually visualizing assholes singing to you, right?” she asks then immediately bursts into laughter. I may be chuckling a little with her, as well. Yep, the visual popped into my head, too.
“What’s that about?”
“Ceese, Kyle has made it known several times now that he’s very interested in you.”
“He shouldn’t be.” I chew the inside of my cheek.
“Why?”
“He should have a trophy wife.”
“I’d put you on my mantel any day, Ceese.”
“Thanks, bitch.” I kiss the air at her.
“Why do you feel this way? What’s wrong with him wanting you?” She writes notes down.
“Don’t be writing shit down! I’m not a patient!”
“I’m not charging you! I need to write notes,” she says defensively. “Ceese, I shouldn’t be doing this! I told you to see one of my colleagues.”
“You’re my best friend. I’m not going to see some asshole who thinks they have me figured out. I don’t have me figured out! Besides . . .” I sigh. “I don’t have any insurance. Most importantly, I know you would never say anything to anybody.”
“Ok. Well, best friend aside, you are still avoiding my question as your therapist.” She raises a brow at me.
“He’s a good guy. I don’t belong with a good guy. I don’t want to get blindsided again.” I look down.
“Again?” she asks. I look up at her. I fight off the tears that want to form and shake my head.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say quietly.
“Is this about Drew?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You never told me what happened. Maybe you will feel better,” she offers.
“I’ll never feel better. I don’t want to talk about it. And I don’t want to be with Kyle!”
“Does he look like Drew?”
“Shut up, Maddie! I don’t want to talk about it!”
“What happened?” She gets up.
“Nothing! Nothing worth talking about. Kyle isn’t my type. How do I get him to leave me alone?” I stand up and step back from her. I don’t want a hug. Hugs are not comforting. “I’m going to lose my business,” I say to distract her.
“What? Why?”
“Not enough clients.” I rub my face. “Ok, I’m done.”
“We’ve barely talked,” she points out.
“I’m done!” I widen my eyes. She knows to back off.
“Yoga tonight?”
“Fuck, yeah!” I say and finally give her a hug. Because it’s a later hug not a there, there now hug. Whatever—I’m weird. Suck it!
“Good! We’ll go out to eat with the girls tonight,” she states as she heads back to her desk.
“Oh, I would but I’ve got some mean Ramen Noodles at home, calling my name.” I grab my purse.
“My treat, Asswhore.” She rolls her eyes at me as she retrieves her lip balm out of her desk drawer and applies it.
“Getting your lips ready for your next john, cocksucker?”
“Nah . . . Tuesday’s blow job day around here.” She smirks.
“Ah . . . I keep mixing that shit up with Titty-fuck Thursday.” I shake my head and make my way to the door.
“It’s an honest mistake. It’s hard for me to keep the schedule straight.”
“Speaking of things that are hard—what’s up with the Viking?” I turn abruptly.
“He may have bought me a coffee.” She smiles coyly.
“What? You’re fucked now—he knows your weakness! Damn caffeine junkie!” I smack her arm.
“When it comes to him, I wouldn’t say that’s my weakness.” She blows her bangs out of her eyes. “For the love all things fucking holy—he’s Australian! Motherfucker just had to have an accent!” she sighs with frustration.
“Let me guess—”
“Yes—extra panties on Wednesdays!” She cuts me off. It’s crazy—the level us sick bitches get each other!
“I would be dry humping the furniture in here, listening to him, myself. Christ!” I shiver.
“Jeebus . . . he could probably command an orgasm from me! I have to wear thick padded bras on Wednesdays,” she says quietly.
“Why?”
“I get one look at him and the girls are poking out to chisel his Zeus-like chest. They want to carve my name right into that bitch!” she says with bite.
“You’re gonna dry hump the furniture now, aren’t you? You sound a bit hostile,” I tease. “Wait! Is that why all of your fucking plants die? Are you shoving the stems up your—”
“Oh my God—goodbye, Ceese!” And with that, she opens the door fully and shoves me out. I kiss a bird off to her. She returns the gesture. God, I love that bitch!
I pull up to my parent’s house. Dad gives me a wave as he finishes mowing the last patch of grass in the front yard. “Hey, Dad!” I call out as I hit the lock on my car and walk up to him.
“Hey, bud!” He wipes his forehead with his handkerchief.
“Dad, you should have somebody do this for you.” I don’t know why I bother to say anything—I always get the same answer.
“What for?—I ain’t got Polio!” He takes my extended hand in for a shake, hugs me, and slaps my back.
“Mom and Linz inside?” I ask as we head in.
“Yeah, supper should be ready any minute now.” He pats my back for me to go in ahead of him.
“There’s my handsome son!” Mom heads over to me with a skip in her step. I love my mom but it’s like somebody turned on TVland and plucked her right out of a Leave It to Beaver episode. She even wears a goddamn apron all day long. Yet . . . I love that about her. How brave was she to not burn her bra and go all gung-ho women’s lib like all of her peers. My mom just wanted to have a nice family and a nice house. She stood her ground while most people put her down for it. She was always confident in knowing that she had the most difficult job and damn if she isn’t good at it! I give her a lot of credit and respect for not wavering. When Linz came along, after ten long years of trying, Winnie Cooper (my mom, not the chick from the Wonder Years) was on top of the world—gracious for God’s gift. She doted over and bragged about Lindsay as if nothing was wrong with her at all.
One particular visit home from college, my mom hosted some other moms from the PTA and I overheard a conversation, neither I nor my mother, were supposed to hear. Two of the women were pitying my mother and my sister, for that matter, over my sister’s condition. They had bet that my mother’s demeanor was a façade, of some sort, as to how she really felt.
“Mom, are those ladies for real?” I was pissed.
“I feel sorry for them, son.” She gave me a slight frown and shake of her head.
“Why do you feel sorry for them? They are putting you down and calling you a liar!” I wanted to kick those bitches out. They didn’t deserve to be in the presence of my mother!
“Kyle, those poor women out there can’t see past their own negativity. I will never see Lindsay as anything but a blessing to me. I love that girl as any mother would love her daughter. No. That’s not true. I believe I love her more. I love her more because she is a wonderful, caring, and thoughtful human being. That aside, she has overcome so much—given her disability. I’m so proud of her accomplishments.” She stretched her neck a bit to see if the ladies were still far enough away not to hear us. “They see your sister as a curse. I feel sorry for them that they are so miserable and negative that they can’t see Lindsay. They only see her diagnosis. They are missing out on the person she is. They are missing out on the warmth of God’s love when that beautiful girl wraps her arms around you. They are missing out on kindness that is so pure, it makes you want to be a better person. Finally, they are missing out on the innocence. Innocence that the world has taken away from us at such a young age—Lindsay gets to hold on to hers much, much longer. What a gift. What a treasure she is.” Her eyes teared up and if I’m going to be honest—mine did, too. I knew exactly what mom was talking about. “Yes. I feel very sorry for them. What a shame to walk around with such a gloomy sky above you. Right, son?” She palmed my face. “How lucky am I, to be blessed with such a loving family. You and Lindsay are my greatest life’s work and I am a proud artist.” She shook my head a little for emphasis before giving me a quick kiss. She let go and grabbed her tray of goodies to take out to the women. “Ladies, so sorry for the delay! I do hope you have brought your appetites!” My mother greeted them as if they never gave her anything to pity them for. I always respected my mother growing up, but that was a pivotal moment for me. That was when my respect and pride in my mother reached a new level of maturity. That was the day I realized just how strong she is. Not giving into the pressure of her peers to become the liberal woman they were all striving to be. Finding gratification in her chosen path and not imprisonment, as it was portrayed. To be handed an extra side on the plate of life and graciously accept it while others complain that it’s too much. To raise Lindsay and me with thought, instead of action. To see God in everything she does, find a smile to cross her face, no matter the situation—my mother is strong—and I am honored to be her son.
In the Mix Page 4