Colleen always felt like she had gotten the short end of the stick.
Her father had died suddenly during an uneasy time in her life, the start of adolescence. It left her feeling abandoned and bitter. She had no brothers or sisters to share the grief with, only her mother, who seemed oddly happier by her father’s untimely demise.
Colleen, who had always been a perfect, well-mannered honor student, set off full-force on a path of self-destruction. She started mingling with the “wrong crowd,” began smoking, drinking, experimenting with drugs, cutting school and sleeping around with older boys and even men.
It was no surprise when Colleen became pregnant when she was just fifteen years old. By then, she seemed hopeless. She was addicted to LSD and PCP and had long since quit going to school altogether. She didn’t even know who had fathered her baby.
They say that every cloud has a silver lining, and as Elizabeth had referred to it, Colleen’s “blessing in disguise” came in the form of a miscarriage when she was seven months pregnant. It nearly killed Colleen, literally as well as emotionally, since she had grown to love her unborn child. It was a turning point in her life. She cleaned up her act, stayed off drugs for good and went back to school. Since she was a bright girl, she was able to graduate only a year later than she would have had she never left school.
She was accepted to a prestigious private college, received a full scholarship, made Dean’s list each semester, earned her Bachelor’s degree in psychology—graduating with honors, and went on to earn her doctorate degree in psychology from an ivy league school.
Colleen met Zachary during her junior year at college. Zachary was a senior. He was a business major, but had already resented his
choice in careers. Colleen tried desperately to convince him to attend graduate school but by then he had lost his ambition. After graduation, he worked as a bank teller for five years and during that time, he and Colleen got married. He quit his job at the bank because he felt he was being overlooked for promotions. He was an assistant loan manager working for little more than when he first started when he finally gave up on climbing the ranks.
He was unemployed for nearly four months, much to Colleen’s dismay. She was twenty-five years old at the time, had already earned her master’s degree and was close to obtaining her Ph.D. Colleen had been trying to get pregnant since the day she was married. More than anything she wanted a baby.
Zachary accepted a job with a marketing company solely to put an end to Colleen’s incessant complaints about his failure to provide for the household and their future savings. She had already started a college savings account for the unborn child she yearned to have.
Two years later, to his relief and Colleen’s jubilation, Colleen discovered that she was pregnant. Their failure to conceive a child in all the years they had been trying had taken a toll on their marriage. They were quickly heading down the path of divorce. The pregnancy diverted that path.
A few years later, after the marketing company went out of business, Zachary found a job at K & A Insurance Company. His friendship with Jane and Gregory began shortly thereafter when his son Scott was diagnosed with autism. It was an incredibly stressful time in Zachary’s life, as once again, Colleen—needing someone to blame—placed full responsibility for Scott’s condition on Zachary.
For nearly six months, as the couple once again contemplated divorce, Jane and Scott served as de facto mediators and marriage counselors, helping them to deal with the situation productively. The two couples and their children were inseparable for a long time thereafter, almost like an extended family. They spent weekends together, vacationed together and shared the joys and sorrows of life together.
Several years later, as the children grew older and had less in common, the families slowly drifted. They were still close, but just not as close. Without any argument or reason, they just grew apart. Time had simply driven a wedge between them. Even when Jane found out about Gregory’s affair, Zachary and Colleen were there
for her, but they didn’t interfere as they once may have done. They didn’t even discuss it with Gregory at all. They had decided, rightfully, that he was wrong and Jane was right and their allegiance shifted to her. Gregory had become a stranger to all of them.
Zachary returned ten minutes later to let Jane know that he had to leave; he had to be at the airport in an hour and he still needed to get home to pack. They were flying out to California for the wake and funeral.
Jane hugged Zachary and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Be strong,” she advised. She knew he was in for a tough time. Colleen had grown extremely close with her mother after her miscarriage all those years ago. Despite the distance between them and the fact that they rarely saw one another, they loved each other dearly. Jane had a feeling that Colleen would direct her grief as anger toward Zachary. Zachary had the same feeling and dreaded every second of the trip.
“I’ll try my best,” he said with a grim smile. “Call me if you need to talk.”
“You too...I’m just a phone call away,” Jane said softly.
“Have fun on your date,” he said with a wink.
“Thanks, Zach. Have a safe trip and please offer everyone my condolences.”
Zachary nodded and left.
Jane felt sad to see Zachary go, but was relieved that they were friends again. Now, once again alone at her desk, Jane let her mind wander and daydream about Eric. She could hardly wait to see him again.
~14~
The afternoon was busier than the morning had been, with plenty of phone calls and filing to keep Jane busy. Jane was happy for the distraction; it made time fly by. Before she knew it, it was time to go home.
Nervous excitement took over, once again adding to the pain in Jane’s stomach. When she entered her car, she finished the last of the antacid tablets she had. She made a mental note to buy some more. She had to stop off at the grocery store for some potatoes and fresh vegetables. Thankfully, the store was on her way home. She didn’t have a moment to waste. Then she remembered that she had taken the only bottle of wine she had to Zachary’s house. She was not a drinker and didn’t keep beer or wine stocked in her home. Great, she thought. Now I’ll have to make a stop off at the package store. She would really have to rush. She hoped the lines at the stores would be empty.
She drove faster than usual, completely disregarding the speed limit. When she looked in her rear view mirror, she realized that there was a police car directly behind her.
“Shit!” she exclaimed, as she began to panic. She’d never be prepared in time for Eric if she was pulled over now. And there was no way she’d be able to talk her way out of a ticket—only pretty women were that lucky. Her evening would be ruined.
Jane slowed down from eighty-one to seventy miles per hour. The posted speed limit on the highway was sixty-five miles per hour. The police car entered the left lane. Jane turned to watch it as it approached her car on the left. The tall officer who had been called out to Sierra Gardens was driving. He smiled and waved to her as he passed by.
Jane sighed. It was a huge relief. At least one good thing had come from Emma’s fiasco. Surely the officer had remembered her from the day before and probably thought she’d been through enough without having to deal with a speeding ticket. Nevertheless,
she adhered to the speed limit—for the most part—and drove about seventy-five miles an hour when possible.
Jane made it to the grocery store in record time. She was pleased to find that it wasn’t very crowded. She picked up a basket instead of using a shopping cart so that she could maneuver quickly throughout the store. She grabbed a case of Budweiser beer, a bag of potatoes, some broccoli, a bottle of steak sauce, some dinner rolls, romaine lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers and a small bag of croutons. Her basket was heavy and over-flowing so she hurried to the closest checkout line she could find. There were two people in front of her and the cashier seemed to be moving in slow motion. She looked around for an emptier lin
e. The basket seemed to grow heavier by the second.
After several grueling minutes, Jane was back in her car and headed to the package store to buy a bottle of wine. It was already 5:33. Jane regretted not buying more steaks while she was at the supermarket—the steaks she had were frozen. It would take time for them to defrost and even more time to marinate them. She felt sick with worry all over again. She almost had to pull over to throw up.
Thankfully, Jane made it to the package store without incident. She walked quickly to the refrigerated section, hoping there would be a chilled bottle of inexpensive, but decent wine. She decided on a bottle of red wine since they would be eating steak. She was the only customer in the store. She walked straight to the register. She set the bottle down and the cashier, a man in his late fifties jokingly asked her for ID.
“I’m thirty-eight going on two hundred,” she joked, as she pulled out her wallet.
“That’ll be twenty-four thirty seven,” he said.
Jane’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the empty pocket that should have housed her debit card. She clumsily searched the other slots, praying that she had inadvertently placed it behind another card. It wasn’t behind her insurance card, or behind her library card or book store gift card or wholesale club membership card or any of the other cards she had. She looked in her purse hoping that she had just tossed the card in as she was in such a hurry. It was not there.
She searched her wallet to see if she had enough cash to pay for the wine. She typically didn’t carry much cash. All of her purchases were placed on her debit card. As expected, she had only one twenty
dollar bill and a couple singles. She had given Emma twenty dollars for pizza, though who knows what she did with it since she didn’t order any.
“I’m sorry,” she said nervously to the cashier. “I think I left my debit card at the grocery store.”
The expression on the cashier’s face changed from friendly to annoyed. He looked as though Jane was asking for charity.
“Do you have enough for the wine or not?” he asked rudely.
“N-no...” Jane stammered nervously. Her stomach clenched and she was sure she would vomit right there in the store. The cashier noticed the color rapidly fade from her face.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
“Do you have a—” before Jane could finish her sentence, she leaned over, heaving, as she hurled up the remains of what had been her lunch—smelly tuna fish, of all things—right there on the counter top. Jane could hear the cashier, who was also the owner of the store, yelling profanities and calling her all sorts of disparaging names. She was too sick and in too much pain to care.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” he yelled after Jane had fully emptied her stomach and stood up, watching him through an embarrassed daze, spittle still dripping from the side of her mouth. Her jacket was spattered with random splotches of vomit. There was even vomit in her hair from when a few strands had fallen in front of her mouth as she retched.
The cashier/owner looked at her with sheer disgust as he yelled at her to get out of his store. She stumbled out the front door, apologizing profusely, while trying to summon enough strength to keep from falling. Her legs were shaky. She walked slowly to her car. For a while she just leaned up against it and cried silently. The evening was not off to a good start.
Through great determination, and perhaps a little luck, she managed to keep herself from hyperventilating. She took slow, shallow breaths until she began feeling better. She could see the store owner glaring at her from beyond the window. She turned away from him and walked as quickly as she could around to the driver’s side door. She opened it and climbed into the car.
From within the center console, she removed a small package of tissues and used every one of them in a forlorn attempt to clean herself up. She knew that she would have to drive back to the
grocery store and get her debit card. She would pick up some steaks while she was there. There was no chance she’d be able to defrost and marinate what she had in time for dinner.
She drove off quickly and recklessly, screeching her tires as she cut off another vehicle, forcing the driver to slam on his brakes to keep from slamming into her. Her heart raced as she thought about the close call she had just had. Nevertheless, she continued to speed on, driving erratically all the way to the supermarket. Before leaving her car, she pulled out a small bottle of car freshener and sprayed it on herself. She didn’t care if she smelled weird—it was better than smelling like puke. She couldn’t wait to take a nice, hot shower.
She glanced at her watch as she held her breath. It was now 5:57. Forcing herself not to focus on how late she was running, she dashed out the car and ran as fast as she could into the grocery store. She went straight to the same checkout line she had used earlier and frantically asked the cashier about her card. She looked like a lunatic.
“What?” the cashier asked her, looking greatly annoyed. “Slow down, you’re not making any sense.” She was an older woman, in her late forties, with wheat-colored frizzy hair and a tattoo of an angel on her forearm. She continued to scan groceries as she eyed Jane with scorn.
“I was just here a little while ago, I left my debit card behind,” Jane explained as slowly as the adrenaline in her system permitted.
The cashier, whose name tag read “Sydney,” checked the areas surrounding the cash register.
“I don’t see a debit card anywhere,” she said apathetically.
“Do you know whether anyone found one?”
“How would I know that? If they did, they didn’t give it to me,” she said sarcastically, making it clear that she no longer wanted to be bothered.
Jane walked quickly to the customer service desk. Though there were two elderly women waiting on line, she walked up to the front of the line and interrupted the young woman who was speaking to the first elderly woman.
“Has anyone turned in a debit card?” she blurted out. She hated to be so rude, but she was running too late to wait her turn.
“I’m with a customer,” the young manager replied as she directed her attention back to the elderly woman.
“I’m sorry,” Jane said, interrupting again, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m in a rush—I just need my debit card.”
“Listen, ma’am, you’ll just have to wait—”
“That’s alright, miss,” the elderly woman interjected, “you can help her first.”
“Oh, thank you,” Jane said to her and then looked down at the manager. “I just need my card.”
The manager rolled her eyes unprofessionally.
“No one’s turned in any cards,” she said flatly.
“Are you sure?” Jane asked desperately.
“I would know if someone handed me a debit card,” she answered irritably and quickly added, “Now if you’ll let me get back to helping the woman who’s been waiting patiently....”
Jane looked like she was about to cry. She cursed herself for not having Eric’s phone number with her. She strode off pitifully, praying that she would get home before Eric arrived. If she wasn’t in such a rush, she would have taken a moment to go to the ladies’ room, or at least sit for a minute. Her abdominal pain was more intense than ever. She knew that the only thing keeping her from passing out was the adrenaline rush she had going.
Jane started her car and drove off, once again speeding toward her house. She thought about having to call her bank and notify them that her debit card had been stolen. She knew that she should have already contacted them, since her card had a VISA insignia and could be used as a credit card, but she had other things to worry about first—mainly, Eric.
Traffic grew heavier six miles before the exit for Jane’s house. Waves of nausea returned with a fury despite the fact that there was nothing left for Jane to throw up...except bile. She fought hard to keep from heaving. The fact that it was 6:19 only added to her anxiety. Even with traffic flowing perfectly, it would have been difficult to make it home by 6:
30. She prayed that Eric was running late. With any luck, he was stuck in traffic with her. Jane had no idea where Eric lived and which direction he would be traveling from.
Though far from the most religious person, Jane found herself chanting “please God, please God, please God, pleeeaaasssee don’t let Eric get to the house first, please God, please God, pleeeaaasssee....” Jane was in tears as her car drove along at the
twenty-seven miles per hour speed that traffic allowed.
At 6:30, Jane was still over a mile away from the exit she needed to take. She was a bundle of nerves and it was a miracle that she hadn’t thrown up again or passed out and crashed her car from the abdominal pains she was suffering. She had given up hope that she would get home before Eric arrived. Now she was just praying that Emma didn’t scare him off.
At 6:15, Eric had already arrived at Jane’s house with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of pretty mixed flowers. He had pressed the doorbell twice already and had been waiting nearly five minutes. He knocked on the door, wondering whether perhaps the doorbell was broken. Then he figured that Jane was probably not home yet. Maybe he had gotten the time wrong. He decided to wait in his car. Just as he turned to go, the door opened.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Emma asked bitterly.
He looked at her, bewildered. Her hair was a mess and she was wearing a thin nightshirt. It looked as though she had just gotten out of bed.
I should drive away and never look back, Eric thought, as he forced a smile upon his face.
“Your mom invited me,” he said cheerfully.
“Well she’s not home,” Emma said petulantly, hoping he would get angry and leave.
“Do you mind if I come in and wait for her?” he asked cautiously.
“Whatever,” Emma said, as she walked away leaving the door open for Eric to enter.
Eric entered the foyer, closing the door behind him. He lingered awkwardly by the front door, not wanting to intrude. He could hear that the television was on. After several minutes, he grew tired of standing around and gravitated toward the sound of the television. He stopped at the kitchen, the first room to his left. There was a mess of food left out on the counter and a large garbage bag in the middle of the room. Eric continued to the living room where Emma was stretched out across the couch watching television. She sneered as he approached.
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