Little Miss Lovesick

by Kitty Bucholtz

  CHAPTER 32

  I STOOD on the walkway of the castle wall in a flowing white gown. A strong breeze blew my hair around, but the flowers never came undone. Next to me stood an entirelytoo handsome man in a Scottish kilt. Wow. I’ve got to be the envy of every girl in three counties.

  A vicar stood before us with a Bible in his hands. “We are gathered here—” But the scenery changed and suddenly I was in a little country church. The man next to me wore khaki’s and a white shirt, not at all dressed up. I looked down to see the beautiful wedding gown I’d had on in that other dream.

  “Do you take this woman—”

  The man next to me smirked. I couldn’t marry him! I tried to get away, but a crowd pressed in from behind. No matter which way I turned, there was no escape. I tried to put my hands over my ears, but they were full of flowers.

  “I definitely don’t. No way,” he said. “Not in a million years.”

  There was a break in the crowd. I ran and ran and found myself in the woods. I’d be safe there. Then another man was next to me, holding me and comforting me. He started kissing me. His tongue was in my mouth and I couldn’t breathe.

  He pulled back for a second and I saw he had fangs like a vampire. He was going to suck the life out of me! I twisted and turned, trying to get away. He kissed me again and my stomach rolled. I was going to throw up on him.

  I woke up suddenly, sweating and nauseous. It took me only a few seconds to realize that I was going to be sick. And not in a dream. If I didn’t move soon—

  I stumbled from my bed, dizzy and disoriented.

  Oh, this is bad. Very bad. I made it to the toilet just in time.

  I want my mom.

  I leaned my head against the bathroom wall and moaned. My whole body hurt.

  When I felt a tiny bit better, I started to get up and go back to bed. Barely into a standing position, I paused, leaning heavily against the sink. Oh, not good. My knees buckled and I leaned over the toilet again, retching.

  The only positive thought that crossed my mind was, I am so glad I cleaned the bathroom recently. Of course, that thought was quickly followed by, now I’m going to have to clean it again.

  I fell half asleep against the wall. Next thing I knew, Dirk was in the bathroom. When I started to ask him how he got in, he smiled. He had fangs. I woke up and dry-heaved into the toilet. I began to cry.

  God, please help me. Please, please, please.

  My stomach muscles hurt and my throat ached.

  Please, please, please, God.

  As I fought to keep from retching again, I thought how different life might be if I were married. I wouldn’t be alone in the bathroom trying to keep my hair out of last night’s supper. I wouldn’t be sitting on the bathroom floor wishing I could reach the sink and a drink.

  I wouldn’t be alone.

  I fell half asleep again. When I woke up, I tried to move a little, checking out how that felt. I looked toward the sink, so thirsty. “So close and yet so far” — the lyrics to that song danced through my brain. The last time I stood up, I threw up. I wasn’t willing to try that again. If only someone were here.

  This is how old people die, said a Voice.They fall in the bathroom away from the phone, too far from the front door to yell even if someone came.

  A 28-year-old Traverse City woman was found dead in her bathroom today. Her apartment manager came in to have the place cleaned after the woman’s lease expired. Apparently she’d died by the toilet months before.

  Note to self: don’t ever prepay the lease.

  I wrinkled my nose. What a disgusting way to go. I’vegot to get up.

  I made it to my knees, leaning against the bathtub. Shaking, but staying upright. Whatever may or may not be left in my stomach was staying down. Progress.

  On my knees, I crawled toward the sink, still using the tub for support.

  The tub! More water and closer.

  Eagerly, I moved to the faucet end of the bathtub. I turned on the cold water and put one hand under the spout. I cupped the water to my mouth, drank, spit, drank again.

  Oh thank you, God! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

  I rinsed out my mouth, drank a little, and rinsed my hot face.

  Sighing gratefully, I turned off the water. Slowly, I got to my feet and reached for a towel. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.

  Waiting. Nausea, but nothing else. I dried my face, rested a moment, then made my way slowly back to bed.

  I can handle an obituary about dying in my sleep, but not about puking up my guts in the bathroom.

  Investigators believe Ms. Riley’s final act was to wipe down the toilet after a night of vomiting. She apparently passed out and hit her head on the bathtub, never regaining consciousness.

  God, if my last accomplishment on earth is to clean the bathroom, help me to rethink my priorities and go to the beach instead.

  I slept again, really slept this time, and didn’t wake up until after ten.

  Stomach muscles aching. Throat stinging. In serious need of mouthwash. I groaned into my pillow. What a way to start a day. At least yesterday I just felt yucky. Today, I felt like I’d been run over by a Mack truck. (Who was ever run over by a Mack truck, and when? Why do we always say that? And wouldn’t you look and feel worse than even the sickest person if you got hit by a semi?)

  I groped around on my bedside table for my phone. I explained to Carmen about my rendezvous with Ralph all night. (I once heard a sailor say that’s what they called it — ralphing.) She clucked over me and promised to have someone answer my calls for a day or two. I hung up and wished again for water. I was going to have to find a way to get to the nearest source before my throat caught fire and set off the smoke alarm.

  I could imagine the added interest if my death announcement included scientific investigation into spontaneous combustion. Well, at least I would have contributed something to the world by my death, if not by my life.

  That’s a pretty lousy way to look at yourself, said a Voice.

  Well, I feel pretty lousy right now.

  Because you ate an enormous and disgusting combination of food yesterday.

  No, because I have the flu. Obviously.

  You don’t have the flu, insisted the Voice.You’ve been here before. This is stress-induced. You’ve got to snap out—

  I turned on the radio part of my alarm clock.

  I have the flu.

  I carefully, slowly made my way to the kitchen and filled my biggest glass with water. Sliding back under the covers, I wished Matt were here. The old Matt. The one who liked to be with me.

  My eyes closed. I pictured us in his house with his puppy. I’d plant rose bushes and lilac bushes and he’d come home to a sweet-smelling, beautiful house. And a sweet, beautiful wife who loved him. That’s what he’d think anyway, that I was sweet and beautiful.

  He’d kiss me and tell me how lucky he was. We’d argue about who was luckiest. Then he’d take me to the bedroom to “make up.” It would be like the night I was over there before, only we wouldn’t have to stop. If Matt thought that was only first base, in the dream life I’d get to find out what he meant by a home run.

  I sighed. It wouldn’t happen. Not with Matt anyway. It was over. All we do now is yell at each other or ignore each other. I’d end up single, or with someone like Trent who was nice and sweet and that’s about it. Knowing my luck, I’d die of old age in my nineties. Alone. No chance I’d actually die of food poisoning this week.

  My luck just isn’t that good.

  “HI, THIS is Sydney — not Australia! Leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

  Beep.

  “Sydney, Perry. I hear you’ve got something. Well, don’t bring it back here. Get better and we’ll see you later. I’ll have Trent handle your workload for now. Bye.”

  “Hi, this is Sydney — not Australia! Leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

  Beep.

  “Hey, baby, this is Mom
. I hope you’re feeling a little better. I called your cell phone and the receptionist said you were home sick. Call me when you’re up. Love you.”

  Beep.

  “Syd, Trent here. Call me when you can. Do you have the paperwork for the Olsen’s or is it here at the office? Hope you feel better. Later.”

  Beep.

  “Hey, sister-friend. I guess you must actually be sick. I thought maybe you were playing hooky. (laughs) I called your cell yesterday and today, but Carmen answered both times. I hope you’re okay. Call me. I’ll bring you some soup or something. Geoffrey says hi. (sighs) You’re just gonna love him. Maybe we can have dinner or lunch or something this weekend. Hurry and feel better. Call me so I know you’re okay. Bye.”

  I lay in bed, trying to sleep, waking up every time the phone rang. Since my cell phone was forwarded to the office, everyone was calling me at home. Screening calls via the answering machine is wonderful, but only when you’re not trying to sleep.

  I listened to everyone leave messages, completely uninterested in picking up the phone. The sound of my voice was making me sicker. Maybe I should change the message.Hi, this is Sydney. Don’t leave a message if it’s not important.

  Little grumpy, are we? asked a Voice.

  Maybe I should record,You know what to do. Short and to the point.

  Definitely grumpy, the Voice said.

  Maybe I should just turn it off and unplug the phone. Of course, Mom would eventually send over the police. This was one of the few moments I wish I had voice mail instead of an answering machine.

  I fell asleep again, escaping into the darkness. I woke up when someone called my name.

  “Sydney? Hey, sweetie, where are you?” Emily.

  I moved a pillow off my head and blinked toward my bedroom door. A moment later, Em was sitting on the side of my bed.

  “Oh, you look awful, honey. What’s wrong?”

  I started to tell her I was sick, probably food poisoning, but no words came out. I just started bawling. I cried and cried until I was exhausted. I curled up into a tighter ball. My whole body hurt.

  Emily held my hand while I cried. When I finally stopped, she said, “Tell me what’s wrong, so I can help, okay?”

  I shook my head and buried in my face in the pillow. “You can’t help. I’m messed up.”

  “Well, you could use a shower, but I don’t think you’re that messed up.” She tried to tease me into a better mood. Not working.

  “Iam. No one wants to love me.I don’t even love me. I want someone who doesn’t want me. The one who’d be perfect for me doesn’t have sparks. Dirk saw another girl when he took me to dinner. I’m getting sued. And I threw up all night!” I rubbed more tears away from my sore eyes.

  “Wait, you lost me. You’re getting sued? By who? And how many guys are you seeing, anyway?” Emily got up and brought me some Kleenex.

  “I told you I was messed up!” I blew my nose. The only part of my body that didn’t hurt right now.

  “Well, I always feel better after a hot shower. So how about I go run the water for you, then when you come out, we’ll have soup from the Grand Traverse Pie Company, and we’ll sort it all out, huh?”

  I looked up at her being all nice to me when I didn’t deserve it. “I love their soup,” I said in a small voice.

  She smiled. “I know you do. That’s why I took off work early and brought you some.”

  “I don’t deserve you.” I started to cry again.

  “Hey, stop that,” Emily said, handing me more Kleenex.

  “Idon’t. I’ve been so mad at you and you’re being so nice to me.”

  “That’s what best friends are for, remember? Now get up. I’ll go start the shower for you.”

  It should’ve come as no surprise to me that Emily was absolutely correct. The shower made me feelmuchbetter. Between clean clothes, clean hair and someamazing broccoli and cheese soup, I knew I was once again in the land of the living.

  “Feel like talking now?” Em asked as she took the bowls to the kitchen. She brought back two tall glasses of water. “Drink this. You’re probably dehydrated.”

  “I had a plan, you know. The Slocum’s had a plan and they got everything they wanted. So I decided to do the same. But it didn’t work. I couldn’t even fix myself, let alone other people.” This was so depressing. Still, it felt less horrible when Emily was here. At least I wasn’t alone.

  We curled up on opposite ends of the couch, facing each other, like we’d done for every other heart-to-heart. Only no chocolate or ice cream or anything. Em was afraid I might throw up again.

  “Why not? What didn’t work?”

  I got up and pulled The Plan out of my briefcase. I handed it to her and sat down again, hugging a pillow to my chest. She read it without saying anything.

  “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I be happy? That’s all I want. But it seems like all I do is work to make other people happy, then they leave. I find people the perfect house, and they buy it and leave. I can’t find people the perfect house, and they leave me for another agent. I give Dirk love, support, loyalty, everything. He gives me nothing. Well, a couple good years of keeping my hopes up, then Heartbreak.”

  “That’s not ‘nothing,’” said Em.

  “It sure as shit isn’t.”

  She chuckled. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you.”

  I sighed. “I don’t know what to do. Why didn’t my plan work?”

  Emily watched me silently. I knew she was waiting for me to tell her it was okay to speak her mind. That’s one of the things I love about her, she never forces her opinions on people. Which is why I value her opinion.

  “Tell me,” I said. I swore to myself I’d do whatever she said if it evensort of sounded like it might work.

  “People are happy or unhappy because they choose to be,” she said gently.

  “I didn’tchoose to be unhappy. I was unhappy because Dirk led me to believe we’d get married and—”

  “Dirk made choices and you made choices. You chose to not get over the hurt.”

  “Okay, but Matt made like he liked me, then was all cool, then made like he liked me again, then completely blew me off! I didn’t make any of that happen.”

  “Have you ever thought that Matt might have more on his mind than Sydney Riley’s happiness?”

  Ouch. I played with the edge of the pillow, remembering my conversation with Patty. “Patty told me some things about his parents. I think he’s afraid he might turn out like his father.” I looked up at Em. “He left when Matt was little and never came back.”

  Em made a sympathetic face. She rearranged herself on the cushions.

  “Remember what you told me on the ride home from the fishing trip? You said you were sitting on the porch and realized you haddecidedto find some peace up there in the woods. And youdid. But I think it’s a daily choice, regardless of what’s going on around you. Whether you’re on vacation or home dealing with your problems. That’s goes for you and Matt both. He’ll have to choose to be a better man than his dad — or not.”

  We sat quietly, thinking. I drank some more water. “Do you think I’m like Ashley Judd’s character inSomeone Like You? You know, blaming everyone else and not realizing she caused a lot of her own problems?”

  Em smiled. “You really do watch too many movies. No, I don’t think you’re that messed up. After all, you’ve never unveiled your fake identity on national television, right?”

  I smiled and shook my head.

  “But she got things figured out in the end, and so will you.”

  “She got Hugh Jackman in the end. Maybe Matt could be Hugh Jackman.”

  Emily laughed. “But will you find that he’s a romantic-at-heart TV producer, or a cigar-smoking mutant with claws?”

  I finally laughed. Oh, that felt good. “I think I’d take Matt either way.” I sighed. I didn’t feel that good anymore. Because I wasn’t ever going to get Matt. I told Emily so.

  “Do you love him?
” she asked quietly.

  I shrugged. “Don’t want to think about it.” I traced the pattern in the couch cushion. “When we came back from the fishing trip, I made a list of qualities I’d like to find in a man.” I didn’t look at Em. “Based on him.”

  She looked thoughtful. “If you ask me, part of the reason your plan didn’t work is because you did it all by yourself. I think these things require group effort. That’s probably why it worked for the Slocum’s — they did it together.” She looked at The Plan, then put it on the coffee table. “So you and Matt had a fight, right?”

  I grunted. “You could say that.”

  “Do you think you could get him to talk to you again? Have lunch?”

  “Not in a million years.”

  “Perfect!”

  I looked up. “How is that perfect?”

  “’Cause you’ve got nothing to lose!”

  CHAPTER 33

  SINCE I had already completed (or messed up) most of the items on The Plan, Em and I only worked on two areas for The New Plan — GT and Matt. She didn’t really have any thoughts for helping me with GT, but when I told her my idea, she thought it was wonderful and wrote it down.

  Then we worked out a plan to win Matt back — if it were possible. It was daring, with a huge chance I’d be humiliated again. But Em was right. I’d never run into him in all the time I’d lived here until we both ended up working for GT at the same time. If he chose to blow me off, there was a really good chance I’d never see him again. That was the only thing giving me courage.

  Perry called Friday morning and told me not to come into the office until Monday. Didn’t want anyone else to get sick. I didn’t try to explain, but thanked him for his kindness. I sat at the kitchen table and did an Internet search on the house GT liked so much. An hour or two and a couple of phone calls later, I leaned back in my chair and took a deep breath. I’d never done anything like this before.

  I picked up my phone and dialed.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, is this Mrs. Andrews?”