Gabriel laughed. “Don’t tell them about my special eraser collection then. I’m not sure if that makes me crazy or not.”
“What? Please tell me you’re joking? You have an eraser collection?” Candy asked as she wiped a humor-drawn tear from her eye.
Candy burst out laughing again. “If I ever need some money, I promise you I’m reporting all of this. Too funny!”
“What about you?” Gabriel asked. Candy could sense he was smiling on the other end of the phone.
“What about me, what?”
“Tell me something strange or embarrassing about yourself, just one thing. I promise not to tell,” he laughed.
Candy sat back and thought for a moment as she placed her finger up to her lower lip, “Hmmm. OK, I’ve got it. You know those fake press-on nails they sell at the drug store?”
“Yeah, my daughter has some.”
“I’m afraid of them. They totally creep me out.”
There was silence, then boisterous laughter.
“What for?” Gabriel asked over the loud music.
“I don’t know,” Candy chuckled. “They just look creepy!”
“Well, if you get out of line, I’ll just put some Lee Press-On nails on your desk before you come in some morning. That’ll set you straight!”
Candy snickered. “If you do that, I’ll set your entire eraser collection on fire.”
Gabriel snorted. “Oh, God, as wonderful as this conversation has been, I have to go. Thanks for the laugh. You don’t know how much it means to me. I love it when we joke around like this.” There was brief silence.
“I do too. You always make me laugh. We have a good time together despite yout being my boss. You’re good people. Thanks,” Candy said solemnly.
“You too, Candy, and call me anytime.” Candy reflected on the phone call, still smiling. Her smile soon left her face as she looked at the time.
“Damn it. Where is he?” she said out loud as she phoned home again. She had been trying desperately to reach Eric to no avail. The voice mail answered.
“Eric, this is, well, you know who this is. I’m startin’ to get concerned. I left two voicemails on your cell phone and one here earlier. Are you OK? Call me. I’ll be up for a while longer.” Candy hung up, chewed her bottom lip, and briefly closed her eyes. She slowly stood up and removed her clothing one layer at a time. Yawning, she made her way into the small bathroom with cheap single-ply toilet paper.
‘This is a nice hotel. I know they can do better than this,’ she thought as she turned on the shower. Gathering her loofah sponge and coconut-lemon body gel, she stood in the shower and allowed the warm water to coat the strands of her hair, run down her face, and flow down her chest while some puddled in her navel. She hummed to herself as she covered every pore, washing the day away. Ten minutes later, she stepped out of the shower and quickly dried off. Lotioning herself down, she sat back down on the bed and half-heartedly looked at the 2:00AM infomercial about real estate flipping. She felt her stomach knot up as thoughts of Eric drifted in and out of her mind. Quickly moving toward her luggage, she pulled out the large box of chocolates, tearing the wrapper away. She began to devour them, one by one, even the ones she hated. Her eyes rolled back as she received their sweet medicine. Wrapping her robe tighter around herself, she started on the second row, still staring blankly at the television until over eighty-five percent of the chocolates were consumed. She eventually fell asleep, having vivid, disturbing dreams. The sweetness of the chocolate made her queasy as it swirled around inside, mingling with caramel, vanilla cream, and syrupy Coca-Cola. A tear streamed down her face as she continued to slumber. She murmured, “Wish I could start over.”
REGRET POTLUCK
Two roasted chicken breasts
1 onion (finely chopped)
Place in slow cooker for nine hours, adding carrots, celery, and seasoning slowly.
Don’t forget to add confusion and loneliness.
If you don’t, you’ll regret it.
* * *
“You seem distracted,” Gabriel said as he welcomed Candy back to the office that afternoon. She had left the airport and came straight to her office before going home because she had an important meeting with HR she did not want to miss.
“I’m sorry. It was just a long flight, and I didn’t sleep well,” Candy said cheerfully. Her face ached as she pretended to be filled with glee. ‘Here I am once again havin’ to explain myself to him,’ Candy thought.
Gabriel cocked his head to the left and revealed his million-dollar smile, chock full of veneers which gave the appearance of perfect teeth. He grinned, showcasing a slight dimple on his right cheek, and rubbed his jawbone.
“What?” Candy asked, smiling back awkwardly as she flipped through interoffice envelopes.
“I…I just got a whiff of your perfume. It reminded me of a girl I used to date in college. It smells like ‘Evening in Paris’ though I know it can’t be.”
Candy smiled. “It’s called ‘Romance by Ralph Lauren.’” She found herself perspiring under her arms. She had never really paid Gabriel any previous visual attention, but suddenly, his standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking at her with a penetrating gaze, made her blush and feel self-conscious. The silver around his temples seemed to be illuminated. She became suddenly aware of his scent, coriander seed and leather. She took note of the brown bomber leather jacket draped over his arm.
“Well, it’s nice,” Gabriel commented, interrupting her trance. “I’m on my way home. If you ever need to talk, I’m here. I’ll keep extending myself because I don’t consider you just an employee – I consider you a friend.” Before Candy could respond, he turned and walked away.
BLUSHING PIE
2 rosy cheeks, soaked in sugar
Sprinkle with powdered delirium and insanity
Bake for 15 minutes or until hot and wet.
Serve extra warm and gooey.
* * *
“I told you I was asleep. I just didn’t hear the phone,” Eric said as he sat on the edge of the bed watching Candy unpack.
“What if somethin’ happened? What if I needed help? I tried to reach you the entire time. I swear it seems…” Candy stopped in midsentence.
“It seems what?” Eric asked as he watched her walk into the large closet and toss lingerie into the hamper.
“It seems you’re tryin’ to punish me for goin’ on that trip. You didn’t wanna hug me goodbye. You gave me a guilt trip about it, then I couldn’t reach you.” Candy tried to control her temper. She pressed her eyes closed and took a deep breath before turning around to face Eric, who was now standing with a scowl on his face.
“You really think you’re ‘the shit,’ don’t you?” he said with a forced chuckle.
Candy’s eyes bulged. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You act like I’m your damn secretary or somethin’. I don’t sit by the phone waitin’ for you to call,” he snapped before walking briskly up to her. Candy winced at the smell of stale alcohol on his breath.
She gently put her hands on his chest and pushed him back slightly. “Eric,” she sighed in understanding. “You’ve been drinkin’. Let’s not argue. You know you don’t act right when you’ve drunk too much.” She maneuvered around him carefully. He grabbed her arm, pulling her firmly to him.
“I don’t give a shit!” he exclaimed. Candy winced and turned away, looking down as his fingers pressed deeper into her wrists. “I should be the one askin’ you a question or two,” he yelled, spraying saliva. “For all I know, there was no business trip at all.” Finally he released her and walked towards the bathroom.
“I’m not gonna argue with you this evening. I’m tired. We can talk about this in the morning.”
“I won’t be here in the damn morning.” She watched him brush his teeth then abruptly go to their dresser drawers, pulling out T-shirts and underwear. He grabbed his black and silver Reebok gym bag and shoved the clothing in
side.
“Where are you goin’?” Candy asked, half-relieved.
“Over to Rick’s house. I need some space from you, just like you needed it from me.”
“But I was just gone for three days.” Candy felt her stomach knotting up. A part of her fought the urge now to beg him to stay. The bed sheets felt cold against her skin as she sat on them in her pink bra and panties.
“But you came home and did your typical ‘Candy shit.’ I’ll call you later.” She watched as he stumbled out of the bedroom and disappeared into the dark hallway, down the steps, and out of the house. She sat very still on the bed and looked at her feet. She wiggled her pink painted toes and smiled as salty, warm tears ran down her face. Her thoughts drifted from work to her boss, the plant, Jasmine and Dallas, and back to her marriage.
“It’s chilly in here,” she uttered as she slowly stood up and made her way down the stairs. She adjusted the thermostat, then went into the kitchen to prepare herself a provolone cheese and wheat cracker tray with a side of sour, green grapes. Her bare feet slid across the slick floors as she made peace with an evening alone. She suddenly wrinkled her nose. Gazing around the room, she found the source of the stench she had detected. The trash was overflowing. She rolled her eyes and gasped.
“He never lets the trash do this! I swear he’s tryin’ to get me upset!” she said aloud as she made her way to the can and yanked it out of the trashcan with force, portions spilling out onto the floor.
“Damn it!” Candy bent down and picked up the lunchmeat wrappers, paper plates, and soiled paper towels. Suddenly, she cocked her head to the side at a partially balled-up bank statement. Unwrapping it, she read the details. Her mouth became dry. She gulped hard as she continued to read. She quickly made her way into her office, slamming the door behind her. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she fired up her laptop. After signing into her banking account, she read all of the withdrawals. She picked up the phone slowly.
“Yes, I need to talk to a manager about my account please,” she said as she wiped her nose with a tissue from the cerulean Puffs box. The conversation gave Candy a headache. She knew that Eric had made a few withdrawals here and there for repairing his motorcycle, but this far exceeded it.
“I help manage a Fortune 500 company’s money, and I can’t even keep tabs on my own personal bank account!” Candy yelled. She continued to look over the information. She noticed purchases for nail and hair salons, shoe stores she knew he did not go to, and restaurants she did not even recognize. In a fury, she raced up the steps and tore their shared bedroom closet apart. Her hands dug deep in all of his clothing pockets. She was quickly rendered drenched with sweat and rage. In the end, she found three receipts which she balled up in her clammy hands, one of which was for a hotel in Eric’s name while she was away on business.
I’M-GOING-TO-FUCK-YOU-UP PIE
You’ll need:
One competent lawyer
One doctor (preferably a surgeon)
God on your side
Add hot water and mix well.
Combine prayer and an ass-kicking that will leave a stiletto imprint burned on his behind like a sizzling tattoo.
Stir until thick.
Preheat the oven for the temperature of the sun.
It’ll be ready as soon as that motherfucker hits the door.
* * *
Candy lit her cherry-vanilla tea candle and neatly arranged the receipts as she calmly sipped a white glass of wine. Her cheese tray remained untouched. Instead, she passed the time with reruns of “Seinfeld” until the wee hours of the morning. Marinated in her own angry juices, her eyes flung open as she heard Eric’s car pull into the garage. She peered at the clock. It was 2:00 in the morning. Sitting up, she finger-combed her tangled hair and felt her heart beating louder and louder. Her fist clenched repeatedly as she slowly rose from the bed and turned on her nightstand light. The pale pink light bathed the room, but the heat from her body turned the walls blood-red. She stood, rocking from foot to foot, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She listened to the closing of the garage door, the footsteps into the kitchen, the opening and shutting of the coat closet, and the sluggish footsteps ascending the stairway. The bedroom door slowly opened, revealing Eric’s shadowy frame. He stood there for a moment, gazing at Candy. His sobriety was lemon-fresh, but his facial expression was sour – drawn-down lips, five o’clock shadow, and ruffled eyebrows. He looked her up and down.
“You wanna fight me?” he finally asked. “You’re standin’ there like you wanna rip my head off,” he laughed as he walked towards the closet.
“Get – your – shit – and – get the hell – outta my house!” Candy said as she blocked his path. Eric paused, his face contorting in a way she had not seen before.
“Candy, get outta the way. I don’t have the patience for this right now,” he said lazily, moving her shoulder out of the way. She stumbled as he forced his way past. She walked towards the receipts and bank notice on the bed. He dropped his bag inside the closet and emerged naked. As he made his way to the bathroom, Candy threw the hotel receipt at him. He paused and looked down at it.
“OK, what’s that?” he finally said, his voice cracking.
“I’m not tryin’ to play games with you. Pack your things and get outta my house.” Candy grabbed her cell phone and dialed 911. “Yes, I need an officer at my house. There’s a domestic issue that’s gonna turn violent, and I need my husband removed from the premises.” Eric watched, his eyebrows furrowing as he listened to Candy tell the operator their address. He slowly backed away from her and into the closet. She listened to him dressing. He emerged with his bag and walked out of the bedroom without saying another word. She followed close behind, watching his every move.
He stopped half way down the staircase. “I should’ve never married your ass,” he said as he balled up his fist, fury oozing out of each and every one of his pores. “Yeah, I fucked someone else. You haven’t been there for me for a long time. It’s always about your career or Dallas and Jasmine – better known as ‘Dumb and Dumber.’ I loved you, Candy.”
“You have a funny way of showin’ it. You always have a million excuses. You refuse to take accountability for your messed up mentality and excessive drinking. I’m done with you! I can’t take any more heartbreak. All you do is play mindgames and cheat. Go be a player on someone else’s watch. Grown men don’t need a bunch of ho’s to screw – they only need one good woman. You had it and blew it. You’re so damn insecure, disrespectful, and pathetic! I never wanna see your face again.” Candy’s voice trembled. She fought the tears back and stood erect.
“OK,” Eric said dryly. Then he rolled his eyes and finished going down the steps. “I’ll be back for the rest of my stuff later in the week.” He exited through the garage door, got in his car, and drove away. Candy stood at the top of the stairs, her knees threatening to give out. The tears finally came, rolling down like huge waves. She sobbed uncontrollably, screaming and shaking. The doorbell rang. She wiped her face and greeted the officer at the door.
“Ma’am, we had a call here regarding…”
“Yes, it was me. I was the one that called. He’s gone now.” Candy sniffed and wiped her runny nose.
“Well, we have to be certain, so I need to search the premises,” the officer explained.
“I understand,” Candy said as she allowed the officer past her. Ten minutes later the police were gone and Dallas and Jasmine were on their way to console their fallen girlfriend.
* * *
“I didn’t expect you to ever take me up on my offer,” Gabriel said as he drove Candy into his gated community. Candy observed the magnificently manicured, evergreen lawns with interestingly shaped shrubbery. Many of the homes had lavish, gold-trimmed and stained glass front doors. The scent of burnt leaves and cinnamon swirled in the air. She watched as Gabriel entered his security code, allowing two impressive wrought-iron gates to slowly open. Behind them sat two menacing stone
lions and a winding driveway that led up to a house of almost unimaginable size. Candy tried not to appear too mesmerized. Gabriel slowed down and waited for one of his garage doors to open, revealing a collection of boy toys including two Harley Davidson motorcycles, one cobalt blue and the other black, and a small white sailboat with the name “Popped Cherry” written in China-red. There was also a shiny, black Toyota truck, a sparkling white Mercedes Benz, a candy-apple red Porsche, and a deep blue Lexus. Tonight he was driving his fire-engine red Lamborghini.
Gabriel got out of the car and immediately opened the passenger door. Candy stepped out, her emerald snakeskin, sling-back stilettos hitting the concrete of the expansive garage. He took her gingerly by the arm and led her into the house. She dabbed her bloodshot eyes as she seated herself in a silver chair that was ornate enough for royalty.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she finally said. “I never expected you to find me like that.”
“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Gabriel said as he poured himself a glass of wine. “Would you like a glass?” he asked, lifting the vintage bottle of Larue Le Trezin Puligny Montrachet.
“Yes,” Candy answered between sobs. “I thought the door was locked,” she continued. “I feel so ridiculous. Then when you asked me what the problem was, I just blurted out everything like some crazy woman. I wish I hadn’t burdened you with this.” She took the glass of wine and immediately took a sip. Gabriel shook his head sympathetically and lit a fire before sitting next to her in his den.
“For the past month you’ve been very withdrawn. Had I known that you and your husband were estranged, I would’ve demanded that you take some time off. How long has he been out of the house?”
“Thirty two days. I didn’t know I’d miss him this much. He took me through so much, you know? You’d think I’d hate him, but I don’t. I just know I can’t…I can’t…” Candy dropped her head. “I can’t do this with him anymore. I’ve been unhappy for a while. I shouldn’t even be surprised. I kept hoping he’d change or that things would at least get better.”
I Want Candy Page 17