Just One Look

by Dara Girard

Adrian waited to hear the front door close before he returned to his piano. He set the notebook down on the piano bench and stared at it. “What the hell am I doing?” He shook his head and answered himself. “You don’t know, do you? I should have just given this to Roberta. Why did I decide to keep you, huh?” He tapped the notebook. “Did she leave you on purpose? No, she has someone else in her life. She probably doesn’t need you anymore. Do you think you’re the first? When I knew her, she had loads of you. She’d fill you up halfway and then start a new one. It used to drive me crazy,” he said, his mind drifting to the past. even though he didn’t want to…

  “Why do you have so many notebooks?” he’d asked her, seeing a stack of them neatly sorted by color on a bookshelf in her bedroom. She lived with her aunt at the time and her room was as sparse as a nun’s, which he use to tease her about.

  She glanced up from her position behind her white desk. “I like to jot my ideas down with a pen. I know some people find it old fashioned but it’s the only way I can organize my thoughts.”

  He pulled one down and flipped through it then stopped when he hit a bunch of blank pages. “You haven’t finished this one yet.”

  “No, I haven’t finished any of them.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I get halfway and then want to start fresh.”

  He frowned, flipping through another half empty notebook. “But you’re wasting paper.”

  “You can take some if you want.”

  “What would I do with half finished notebooks?”

  “Use the other half? I know you could use the paper to write all your ideas in.”

  He was struggling financially trying to get Deadly Delectable Pies off the ground, sharing a place with Ken, not able to afford to take her out even to the movies, but she didn’t complain. They went on cheap dates—bike rides, museums, free concerts and watched movies at her place, where he never left empty handed. She always packed food for him to take home—chicken patties, rice and peas, fish fritters. “I think he’s only seeing you to get a free meal,” he’d overheard her aunt say.

  “Shh, Aunty, he might hear you.”

  “I hope he does. What kind of man builds a business around food and can’t feed himself?”

  “He’s never once asked me to do this. I’m doing it because I don’t want him skipping meals.”

  “And you love him to distraction,” she said in a dry tone.

  Caryn laughed. “Yes, that too.”

  He remembered that carefree laugh, a sound that made his heart buoyant and the note of disapproval in her aunt’s voice. It was clear Barbara Lancaster didn’t see much potential in him and he looked forward to the day he’d prove her wrong. “I’m not so broke that I can’t buy paper,” he said.

  Caryn came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You could complete them for me.”

  He replaced the notebook then leaned back against her, he could never be close enough. “That would be weird.”

  “I think it would be sweet.”

  He turned to her. “Sweet?”

  She smiled up at him, making his body fill with a strange inner excitement. “Yes, then I’d never have to worry about wasting paper again because my brilliant boyfriend will make me proud.”

  He kissed her. He didn’t know why, he just wanted to. No, needed to. He needed to feel the soft pressure of her lips, taste her mouth, be close to her; desperate to let her know how much he loved her. His heart, mind and soul screaming what words could not say. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for standing by my side. I’ll make this all up to you one day.

  He couldn’t remember how many notebooks he’d helped her fill up before the wedding…

  Adrian let the memory fade from his mind, the sweetness of the moment making his heart heavy, and looked down at the purple notebook. “I wonder if she still…” He reached for the notebook then stopped. “I don’t care.” He started to play a few bars then swore. “Yes, I do care.” He opened the notebook and flipped through its pages and saw she’d stopped at the halfway mark. “I knew it.” He stabbed the blank page with his forefinger. “Your days are numbered. She has no use for you anymore. Welcome to the club.” He snapped the notebook closed then set it down beside him. She didn’t need it anymore. She wouldn’t miss it.

  But if she did, she’d have to come and get it.

  And if she didn’t, he’d give her a reason to.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Cheating?” Caryn said, sending the attractive black woman a wary look.

  “Yes.” The woman held out her hand, the silver bracelet she wore caught the light and sparkled. “My name is Rania and you’re in trouble.”

  “Trouble?”

  “I’d prefer not to have this conversation in the hallway.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course.” She opened the door. “Would you like anything to drink?”

  “No, thank you,” Rania said, making her way to the living room and taking a seat as if she were a queen about to hold court. “We’re very annoyed with you right now.”

  “We? Is that the royal we?”

  Rania gave a slight smile. “That’s cute. No, I’m referring to we as in us, the other senior members of the Society.”

  “You’re from the Black Stockings Society?”

  “Yes.”

  Caryn sat on the love seat in front of her and clapped her hands together, pleased. “This is great! I have so many questions.”

  “Most of which I won’t be able to answer and none that I will answer right now. You truly are in trouble.”

  “I don’t understand. What did I do?”

  Rania sent a pointed look at Caryn’s trouser legs. “The stockings.”

  “Yes, I’m wearing them.”

  “Did you think you could get away with that?”

  “With what?”

  “No one seeing them.”

  “I wasn’t sure they were appropriate for—”

  “Do you think we would ask you to do something that would risk your professionalism?”

  “No, I just—”

  “Thought you could get away with bending the rules.”

  “There were no rules that said I had to wear the stocking with a skirt.”

  Rania nodded then smiled. “You’re right. Maybe you don’t need us after all.” She stood.

  “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

  “We thought you were willing to live a little dangerously, but clearly…” she glanced at Caryn’s legs again, “you prefer to hide.”

  “Does that mean I’m out?”

  “No, that means you have to make up for it.”

  “But I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Rania sat and crossed her legs. “Technically, no.”

  “Then why am I in trouble?”

  “I just told you. You’re making up reasons to behave the way you’ve always behaved. We asked you to wear the stockings and you chose to wear them in a way so that no one could see them.”

  “The makeover was amazing. I feel great. I didn’t think—”

  “The problem is you think too much. Are you really willing to do what is necessary to get your love life out of the rut it’s in?”

  Caryn licked her lips, feeling like a child caught trying to feed her vegetables to the dog. ‘I just didn’t feel comfortable.”

  “I know, but that’s not what I asked you. Are you willing to do what is necessary to get your love life out of the rut it’s in?”

  Caryn took a deep breath then said, “They just…” She hesitated, letting her words fall away.

  “Weren’t comfortable?”

  “No, they didn’t make me feel like myself.”

  “Or maybe they made you feel too much like yourself.”

  “They made me want things I shouldn’t.”

  “The stockings don’t do anything, the desire was already there. It was just reawakened.”

  “But—”

  “You joined t
he club because you want your first love back.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Am I wrong?”

  Caryn sighed. “No.”

  “Then you’ll do as I say.”

  “He’s already with someone else.”

  “Who’s wrong for him,” Rania said with a grin. “We both know that. And it’s too late to turn back now. You can’t walk away from this. You’ve already set things in motion and neither of you can escape unscathed.”

  “What things?” Caryn said startled. “I haven’t—”

  “So no more cheating,” Rania continued.

  Caryn nodded, realizing Rania wouldn’t answer questions she didn’t want to. “Okay.”

  “And you have to make up for today.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll wear the outfit I choose for you. No exceptions.”

  Caryn nodded. “Fine, I’ll accept my punishment. When should I wear it and where?” Before Rania could reply, Caryn’s mobile phone rang. “Excuse me,” she said, then answered.

  “Caryn,” Terri said in a mild panic. “It’s a big job and I need your help.”

  “For what?”

  “You won’t be alone I’ve already gathered a strong team. A code enforcer, the landlord, and his two sons are involved as well as a home-health nurse and a social worker.”

  “House or apartment?”

  “House.”

  “And what do you need me for?”

  “The kitchen.”

  Caryn shook her head. “You know I don’t do kitchen or animal hoarders.”

  “We’ve cleaned out most of it, but the organizer I usually call is unavailable and time is running out for this man. He could lose everything. The sons really want to keep him where he is. We have to get this done tomorrow.”

  “Send me a video.”

  “I need you here. Please,” she said, drawing out the word. “You know I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.”

  Caryn squeezed her eyes shut then sighed. “Fine, I’ll be there.” She hung up then looked at Rania. “I’m sorry, but I have to go help a friend with a major project tomorrow.”

  Rania stood and grinned. “I know just what you’ll wear.”

  “This isn’t the place—” Caryn began but stopped when Rania sent her a cutting look. “Fine, what should I wear?”

  The following day, Caryn drove up to the white colonial house with black shutters and a crooked water spout, wanting to drive away for two reasons. First, she didn’t want to step out of her car in the form fitting skirt and blue lace stockings Rania had her wear. Second, was the sight of one of the workers vomiting by the side of the house. She hated that the most—how people responded to the mess, at times, was worse than the mess itself. Caryn put the car in park and got out, ignoring the looks from the junk removal team.

  Terri sent her a measuring look. “Aren’t you a little overdressed?”

  Caryn held up her hand. “Don’t say anything.”

  “I already did. Do you have a date later or something?”

  “Or something,” Caryn said, feeling her face burn. She felt ridiculous.

  “There’s something different about you and it’s not just the clothes and makeup. You seem younger and more carefree somehow. What’s going on?”

  More than I can say. “Nothing. I don’t want to be here so let’s get it over with. How many fridges?”

  “Eight.”

  “Let me guess. Three in the kitchen, one in the living room, one in the bedroom, two in the garage and one in the backyard.”

  “Close,” Terri said impressed. “There are two in the backyard and two in the living room. We’ve cleaned out most of them, the house is being aired, we actually did have a tin can of beans explode so that halted things, but the kitchen actually looks recognizable again so that’s where you come in.”

  “Okay.”

  Terri handed her a mask. “You’re going to need this.”

  Caryn didn’t, but took it anyway. She was used to seeing rotting food, the smells, the sounds of maggots. It was the clutter that bothered her the most. She walked into the kitchen and saw that the countertop would need to be replaced as well as the sink. In the cupboards and pantry every shelf sagged under the weight it had to bear.

  “Where’s the owner?” she asked, surprised they’d managed to get as far as they had. She was used to hearing someone outraged, shouting in distress.

  “We got lucky.”

  Caryn clasped her hands together in delight. “He’s not here?”

  “Nope, a son took him and you have six hours.”

  No wonder they’d been able to get things done as quickly as they had. She’d worked with one client who’d spent an hour filling up a box only to spend the next hour going through it again before leaving only three items to be taken for donation.

  She quickly assessed the room, listened to the information Terri provided about the owner, then worked with a carpenter to get the cabinets redone. She listed items that needed to be bought.

  She didn’t want to stay to see how the owner responded. Some were grateful, others angry. They would only see all that wasn’t there, all the possibilities that had been taken from them. The moldy cheese that still had a good week left, the seventeenth can of tomato paste that they’d hoped to put in a casserole, the rusted pot that had been with them for years and was better than all the other pots they’d ever owned.

  She’d done her best and had learned not to expect anything more. She’d tried many times to help her mother, even in later years, and had insults hurled at her instead.

  “What makes you so high and mighty?” She remembered the tantrums and screaming when she’d once tossed away a stained blouse—one of two hundred—and her mother hadn’t spoken to her for three days afterwards. “You need to learn to respect my things.”

  Caryn never told Terri the real reason why she shied away from working with animal or food hoarders. She’d never told her about Brandon, a boy she used to play with, who’d hanged himself at ten because the kids always teased him. He smelled every day. It was later that they learned why. That he lived in a house with eighty cats. They both had secrets. His worse than hers. She was never teased. She managed to keep the shower clean, she didn’t care if she had to unpack it every morning to clear the new items her mother bought. Her mother was very much into appearances. Her clothes were always neatly pressed, her hair in place, and her nails were always done. It was like finding a garden of roses on the top of a pile of dung.

  Brandon haunted her. She feared getting found out. She remembered hearing how his two brothers had been taken away. She didn’t want to be taken, even though she wanted to be rescued.

  Her mother could be so much fun at times. She was creative and she would make the best Halloween costumes. She could design hats, and shoes. She loved fashion. She was funny and smart. But they seemed to have little in common. After Caryn had cared for her uncle and never returned, her mother saw her action as a betrayal. She was cordial when they spoke now, but the accusation lay silent between them ‘How could you leave me ?’ ‘Do you think you’re better than me?’

  At the end of the project the carpenter’s team had followed Caryn’s design and restructured the kitchen by installing pre-fabricated cabinets and shelving.

  “Thanks for this,” Terri said after the final junk truck had driven away.

  “No problem. Let me get away before the owner returns.”

  Terri glanced at the clock on her phone. “We still have time to spare. Are you going to see someone tonight?”

  “No, I was just trying this outfit out.”

  Terri tapped something into her mobile. “You look out of place, but you look great.”

  “Thanks.”

  She paused and stared at the screen. “Umm…is there something you haven’t told me?”

  Aside from the fact that I was invited into a secret club? “No, I told you I got a makeover.”

  Terri nibbled her lower lip as s
he scrolled through something on the screen. “Are you sure that’s all?”

  “Yes.”

  “There wasn’t a special a reason why you got the makeover?” she asked still fixated on the tiny screen. “You would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

  “Tell you what?”

  Terri looked at her, worried. “Your special reason.”

  Caryn shook her head. “What are you talking about? Why would I need a special reason for a makeover?”

  “Is it possible you did it for someone?”

  “Like who?”

  “Adrian.”

  Caryn blinked. Was it all over her face that she couldn’t stop thinking about him? “No.”

  “Are you back with Adrian?”

  Caryn threw her hands up, stunned. “No. Why would you think that?”

  Terri turned the screen to her.

  Caryn saw a video featuring Roberta then read the headline: She Organized My Life and Stole My Man.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Caryn watched in horror as Roberta held up a picture of her and began talking to the camera about how Caryn had ruined her life.

  Caryn pointed to the screen. “She’s lying. Why is she lying about me?”

  “I thought you would know.”

  “I didn’t do anything. I swear. I haven’t seen him since the day I crawled out of his bathroom window.”

  Terri glanced at the sky. “I still can’t believe you did that.”

  “I haven’t seen him and I’m certainly not back with him.”

  Terri motioned to the screen. “She doesn’t believe you. She thinks you and Adrian are together.”

  Caryn’s voice cracked with outrage. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” Terri turned up the volume. “She’s not being real specific.”

  “Turn it off, I don’t want to hear any more.”

  “Aren’t you curious—?”

  Caryn pulled out her cell phone. “I have to talk to her.” She dialed, relieved when the line picked up. “Roberta it’s—”

  “I know who it is,” she said in a cool tone. “You have some nerve calling me.”

  “I’d like a chance to talk to you so we can clear up this misunderstanding.”