“Um…number ninety-seven, please.”
Antoine nodded and started up the machine. A Hawaiian guitar sound started and I took the microphone and made my way to center stage. I think I might have swayed waiting for the song to kick in.
“Christmas Island” was one of the few Christmas songs I could tolerate. You didn’t hear it very often and it was kinda catchy. The Andrews Sisters did it back in the 40s. Three-part harmony as they sang about hanging your stocking on a “great big coconut tree”.
I can’t say I’m a singer. But I can carry a tune. And the cocktails helped. So I started to swing and sway like Sammy Kaye. It wasn’t much, but it was my birthday so people clapped and were quite kind and generous.
I looked into the crowd and saw Dr. Prince smiling and giving me the thumbs-up. I felt cured. This was going to be my year. I just knew it.
I looked around the room for Celia, but I couldn’t find her anywhere. But just then, walking in the door…
It was Nate.
I know I should have been nervous, but seeing him actually made me happy. He saw me on stage singing and gave me a smile and a wave. So I sent a smile and a wave right back at him.
Because this was going to be my year.
Just then, it all started to go downhill.
Because a few feet away from Nate, I finally spotted Celia. She was at the coat check with her coat already on and leaning against the wall with her arms folded in front of her. Alex stood next to her making gestures that looked like pleading.
And then, at the instrumental break, a couple of the waitresses jumped onstage and began to dance alongside me---a sexy hula with a dirty grind on each other. I stepped off to the side and tried not to look too embarrassed. But my eyes were glued to Alex and Celia. If body language was any indicator, it wasn’t looking good. I could see even thru the glare of the spotlight that she was hurting.
Next thing I knew, Alex leaned in for a kiss. It felt too intimate. Something I shouldn’t be staring at. I turned my head away just in time to see Nate who had seen the whole thing.
He’d seen me turn away from my “boyfriend” attempting to kiss yet another woman.
Shit.
And then it was time for me to sing again. I could barely get the words out about Santa sailing around with presents in a canoe as I saw Nate’s sad, puppy dog face sympathize with me from the crowd.
“Don’t touch me!” Celia yelled from the back of the room. “I said, ‘Don’t touch me!’” she repeated, threw her bag over her shoulder and stormed out. Alex ran after her.
Hawaiian steel guitar faded out, and now twice-cheated-on girlfriend fades in.
“Are you okay?” Nate pulled me aside as I got off stage.
“Sure,” I said coolly. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
“Antoine invited me. My company owns this building.”
“Oh, well that’s…super.”
“Dorrie, you don’t need to pretend. I saw everything,” he said as he reached for my hand. “Are you okay?”
He looked at me carefully, waiting for me to crack. I wasn’t sure what attitude I should take. I figured that a woman in this position might do one of three things: break down and cry, go after the bastard with a steak knife, or try to laugh it off.
A joke seemed to require the least amount of effort.
“Doesn’t look like things are working out so well,” I said with a vaudevillian flair.
“No. Doesn’t look that way,” he said in all seriousness.
“When a man chases after another woman on your birthday, that’s when the fat lady has sung.”
I knew it wasn’t my best material. But I’m not a song-and-dance man.
“It’s your birthday? Happy Birthday!” Then he switched gears, “Oh—I’m sorry. That’s a pretty lousy birthday.”
“You know what?” I said trying to brighten the mood. “It’s still my birthday, so I’m just going to have a nice time.”
“Wow. That’s….a really strong attitude,” he seemed to stand back and admire.
“Well, you’ve got to take an attitude. I’m just going to pick a positive one.”
He smiled.
“Do you like pie?”
“I LOVE pie!”
“There’s a diner around the corner that has amazing homemade pies. My treat. For your birthday.”
“Oh…I don’t know. That’s okay.”
Damn. Why did I say that? Apparently I have an automatic reflex that immediately turns down assistance. And pie.
“Are you sure? It’s right around the corner. Coconut custard?”
I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers offering twice.
A few minutes later, there was a slice of pie and a cinnamon covered cappuccino right before my eyes.
“Oh---this is great!” I said as I dug in. “I’m not really a cake person.”
“You prefer pie.”
“I prefer pie,” I agreed, in what almost seemed like flirting.
In fact, the whole hour we spent together seemed like flirting. It was the best date I’d been on in years. No awkwardness. No lists of our likes and dislikes. No worry that I might say something and he wouldn’t get my reference. It seemed like the perfect date.
“So, how long have you and Alex been together?”
Until then.
“Can we talk about something nice?” I suggested, trying to steer clear of all that “unpleasantness”.
“Like what?”
“Your plays,” I said. And he blushed. I saw him blush. “I fell asleep reading them the other night.”
“They put you to sleep?”
“No! I mean…you should get those out there. You’re really, really talented.”
“Thanks. I’m working on it. But I got the call from Steve and started thinking about the two-person show thing.”
“I think it’ll work. Don’t you?”
“What about this….George Bailey is so distraught he’s about to jump off a bridge. But instead of an angel, a psychiatrist shows up? And the whole thing is these session between them?”
“I might be able to help you with that.”
As we left the diner, he put on his cute winter hat with ear flaps and offered to walk me home.
“That is, if you’re going home to Alex’s place. I’m sorry to bring that up,” he apologized.
“Yeah. I guess I am. They’re still painting over there.”
“What are they? Union?”
“Funny you should say that…”
I was going to have to break up with Alex. Again. Why of why wasn’t I more successful instead of being stuck in my crappy illegal sublet with a fake, cheating boyfriend? Why couldn’t Alex have said I was his cousin staying there for awhile? Or his maid? Anything but his girlfriend. At the very least, why couldn’t he have just kept it in his pants?
As it stood, I had to break things off immediately or risk Nate thinking I was a complete doormat with low self-esteem. What kind of a man is interested in a woman with low self-esteem? Serial killer? Wife beater? At the very least, the kind of boob who frequents strip clubs. Certainly not the kind of guy I was looking for. Happily, Nate didn’t seem to fall into any of those categories. But Alex and I had already “gotten back together” once already. How many times could I forgive him and still look stable?
“So, what are you going to do now?” he asked as we walked.
“I’ll figure it out,” I said mysteriously. As if I already had it mapped out in my head, but didn’t want to bother him with the messy details. I will take care of it. Don’t worry. Exactly what a strong, independent woman would say.
“Well, if you need some help moving any stuff to your place, or a friend’s place, just let me know. Oh….” He said as he reached in his pocket. “Here’s my card. You should probably have my number, anyway. For the show. Just give me a call.”
There was an awkward moment. Something was supposed to happen here. He’d given me his card. That put the ball in my park. I
had to throw something back. What? I had no business card. Temps don’t have business cards. Shit. The ball was just sitting there. Lying on the ground on the other side of the fence. Throw it back. For godsakes, throw something back. Can’t you just flirt a little? For once in your stupid life can you at least flip your hair or something?
“Dorrie!” I heard and turned around. Alex stood up from the front stoop as he slipped a flask into his pocket. “I’ve been waiting for you to get home. Guess I lost you in the crowd,” he said in what was perhaps an even worse acting job than his ad-lib performance in Feeling-Up the Down Staircase.
“Um…I stopped to get some pie and coffee. With Nate,” I made sure to point out.
“Hey, Alex,” Nate said casually and gave him a little wave.
“Can we go inside…sugar-pie? I don’t have my keys. And I’m freezing my balls off out here,” Alex said as he stepped up and gave me an awkward kiss on the cheek.
“Are you going to be okay?” Nate asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said as I glanced over at Alex who took the opportunity to warm up with another sip of whatever was in his flask.
“Well, Happy Birthday,” Nate said absently, then gave a little smile; as if he’d said something completely inappropriate and the only reaction to his faux pas was a stupid grin.
As he walked away, I turned to give Alex my most disapproving look ever.
“What? She locked me out. What did you tell her?”
“Me? I didn’t say anything. What did you do?”
“Nothing. It’s just… Tanya kept calling my cell. And then Celia started accusing me of things.”
“Maybe because you’re cheating on her.”
“Whatever, okay----it’s fucking freezing out here.”
“You’re planning on staying here?”
“It’s my apartment.”
“You can’t get a hotel room?”
“Celia has my wallet with all my money and credit cards.”
“Why did you give her your wallet?”
“It…creates an unsightly bulge in the line of my pants.”
“That’s pathetic,” I couldn’t help but say. “If you’re cheating on your girlfriend, it’s probably not a good idea to let her hold your purse.”
“Hey---this is my apartment,” was his counter-thrust.
Touché.
As we climbed the stairs, I had a thought; one that I expressed as soon as we got inside the apartment.
“Wait a minute. What about your little twit downstairs? Tanya? Why don’t you stay with her?”
“She broke up with me. I don’t know where she is. I think she’s out downtown drinking with her friends or something. She was pretty messed-up.”
As I resigned myself to spending my birthday night with The Doubtful Guest, I pulled out the spare pillows and a blanket and started to make up the couch.
“I can’t believe they both broke up with me on the same day. It’s like you can’t depend on anything nowadays” he said pitifully as he polished off the flask.
“You’ll excuse me if I don’t have a whole lot of empathy for you right now.”
“Whatever,” he picked up the remote and flipped on the TV. “You got any liquor around here?”
While Alex scoured my kitchen cabinets for the half bottle of cooking sherry, I put on the least revealing pair of pajamas I owned and did a quick search for the cat, who was nowhere to be found. With Alex there, she wouldn’t come out all night.
This was no way for my cat to live.
12
The next morning, Alex sobered up and pointed out the obvious.
“You know your coffeemaker’s broken?”
“Yeah,” I replied as I brushed my teeth in the kitchen sink.
“Hey, this rent check for December,” he said as he handed me the check I’d given him the night before, “you think you could give me cash?”
Just then, the morning mariachi session began on the roof and a hunk of plaster hit the floor.
“They really need to fix that,” Obvious Man commented as he grabbed his coat and looked at the bedding he’d left on the couch.
“Oh---don’t worry about making my bed. I’ll be back tonight. These the spares?” he said as he grabbed a set of keys off a nail. “Yup. I can tell. Okay, got my keys, got my phone, got my game face… Oh----can I get like twenty bucks? I need a toothbrush and lunch. Oh, and coffee. Can you make it twenty-five?”
I gave him my withering stare, which is extra withering before I’ve had my morning coffee.
“What? If you had a working coffeemaker, we wouldn’t have this problem.”
Over the next few days, I tried several times to call Celia, but she wasn’t answering her phone. I left a message that Alex was staying with me, but tried not to make it sound as horrible as it was. She had her own problems. The fact that one of them was sleeping on my couch was minor, in comparison.
“He’s still there?” Dr. Prince practically jumped off her folding chair. Thank god, I finally wasn’t boring my therapist.
“Yes! I’m exhausted. He snores so loud I can’t sleep. Then he wakes up before the sun comes up and turns on the early morning stock report or something. I’m so tired.”
“If she has his wallet, where is he getting his money?”
“I gave him the rent in cash. And then he comes home and spreads his work stuff out on the sofa and turns on the TV. I haven’t seen my cat in days. She must eat and pee while we’re at work. And then there’s the guys repairing the roof… It’s awful. I mean, I know it’s not suicide or divorce or the firm belief that I’m a 1970s pop star, but…”
“No, it’s bad. Trust me, I’ve had houseguests before. I feel your pain.”
“So, what do I do?”
“What would you like to do?”
“I don’t know. I was waiting to talk to you.”
Somewhere along the way, fishnets had reeled me in.
“Well, this is a new development in our relationship,” she sat back in her folding chair with a satisfied look on her face. “Look, he’s got to leave sometime. What is he doing for clothes?”
“He had a few extra suits at the office. But he’s using my toothpaste. My shampoo. He even took one of my razors. I gave him cash! Why can’t he buy a plastic razor?”
“Ay tacaño!”
“Yes! He is cheap!” I happily recognized a Spanish word. “He doesn’t seem in too much of a hurry to leave, either.”
“Meera, he feels comfortable there. It’s his old place. And, frankly, he’s just waiting for her to take him back. He figures that if he lays low for a few days, she’ll cool off and forgive him. And she probably will, so watch what you say about him. He might seem like a loser to you, but this was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Those feelings don’t just die overnight. But I have a big question to ask you---who’s the cutie-pie I saw you leaving with?”
Just North of Whoville Page 14