Saved by the Celebutante

by Kirsty McManus

  I laugh. “I love how you’re always looking for the positive in a situation.”

  “That’s me. Eternally positive. Hey, Chrissie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Try and relax a bit, okay?”

  “I will. Thanks, Gia.”

  I pull out onto the road, getting a feel for the van’s quirks. I’m not used to driving something so big, but it’s definitely a novelty traveling with your living quarters. I once watched a documentary where Eskimos took their houses out on hunts and they got their Huskies to pull them along on the ice. I imagine it kind of feels like this. Only I’m going to the desert. The complete opposite of the Arctic Circle.

  The reality finally hits me. I am about to take off on a twelve-hundred-mile round trip alone into the middle of Nevada.

  Who does that?

  Apparently me.

  I switch on my phone’s GPS and listen to its robotic voice giving me directions. Once I clear the city, I find the drive much easier. I head inland towards Palmdale and then north through Lancaster, stopping to get supplies. I end up buying a lot more than I need, but I know from my experience in PR that you can never be too prepared.

  I drive for another four and a half hours, only stopping once more for lunch at a visitor center near a place called Lone Pine.

  At around five, I pull into a cozy, non-threatening looking RV park in Bridgeport. I don’t trust myself on the road at night, and especially not in a van. And although I probably have another hour before it gets dark, the weather isn’t great, so it feels a lot later than it actually is.

  I step out, reaching back in to grab my jacket. It’s got be around forty degrees, which is a bit of a shock after sunny LA. The front office is all lit up, and a friendly looking couple in their fifties are sitting in armchairs reading paperbacks.

  The man looks up and smiles. “Howdy. You lookin’ for somewhere to park that van o’ yours?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “No problem. We have a site down the back there near the amenities block. You can pay now so you can leave in the morning whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thank you.”

  He gets up and retrieves a form from behind the desk. “Just fill this in.”

  I write down my details and hand it back along with my fee.

  “You traveling alone?” he asks.

  I nod warily.

  “You want to share a drink with me an’ the missus?” He tilts his head towards his wife.

  I try and gauge whether his suggestion has any underlying meaning and decide it doesn’t. Still, I don’t know if I’m in the mood to make small talk with strangers.

  “Oh. That’s very kind of you, but I’ll see how I go. I have a couple of things to do first.”

  “Well, you know where we are.”

  “I do.”

  I go back to the van and drive it down to my allocated site. I climb through from the driver’s seat to the bed and poke around until I find a lantern tucked in a storage container under the mattress. I switch it on and take a moment to test out the bed.

  It’s surprisingly comfortable. And the windows have little curtains to pull across at night. I just hope I don’t get too cold. After some more poking around in another storage container, I find a sleeping bag. That should be enough with the blanket.

  I get out my phone and text Gia.

  Made it safe to Bridgeport. So much colder than LA! Should be at the festival by mid-afternoon tomorrow.

  I think about the fact that I haven’t bothered contacting Corey or Penny since I left. I feel bad about Penny, although she could have called me if she really wanted to. And Corey probably wouldn’t even have noticed my absence. In fact, I’m sure he’d be relieved I’m not bugging him.

  To make up for not calling Penny, I write her a short email, letting her know what’s been happening. And then out of habit, I scan the new messages in my inbox. Just the usual junk.

  Oh. That’s strange. There’s one in here from the little boutique Corey and I used when we set up our wedding gift registry. I click on it, feeling a weird sense of dread.

  Fuck.

  I knew it.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  It’s an exact duplicate of the message they sent me three years ago. Corey and I didn’t have a proper wedding, but a few of our friends still wanted to buy us something, so we registered at a small boutique in the city.

  Dear Chrissie,

  We are delighted that you are considering using Ella’s Gifts & Homewares for your wedding gift registry. I have attached our current catalog for the two of you to peruse at your leisure. If you or your fiancé have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call.

  I look forward to meeting with you both in the near future.

  Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials!

  Ella Russell.

  I read the message several times.

  The logical thing would be to assume that a simple administrative error resulted in somebody accidentally re-sending a three-year-old email.

  But somehow I know that’s not what happened.

  My suspicions are all but confirmed when I open the attachment and find a catalog dated for this season.

  Well. I can make several deductions from this.

  Ella’s Gifts & Homewares should really check they don’t have customers with more than one account before sending out emails of this importance.

  Corey is the most un-original person on the planet. Who would use the same boutique for two weddings?

  HE’S GETTING FUCKING MARRIED!

  That’s not fair! He’s the one who’s been dragging his feet, so how come he’s settling down again before me? And so soon! Does that mean he’s been lying to me this whole time? I find it hard to believe he only met this Jasper recently and decided they were so in love that they had to get married immediately. Although, even if that was true, I don’t think I’d feel any better about the situation.

  Fat tears drip down onto my phone. I find Corey’s number in my contacts and press the call button. He answers on the fifth ring.

  “Hey, Chrissie. Look, I was going to call you about the apartment sale…”

  “I don’t want to talk about the damn apartment. Is it true?”

  “Huh? Is what true?”

  “Don’t make me say it. Just fucking tell me.”

  “Chrissie…”

  “IS IT TRUE?”

  He sighs. “Yes, but…”

  I hang up.

  He tries to call back but I switch off my phone. Motherfucker.

  I bury my face in the pillow and scream. And then come up for air, punching the bedding with my fists. I alternate this routine for a while, sometimes forgetting to scream into the pillow.

  It’s only after a few minutes that I’m aware of someone knocking on my window. I sit up, suddenly silent, and look out into the darkness. Knowing me, it will be the park manager kicking me out for disturbing the peace.

  I quickly swipe my hands across my face to hide any evidence of tears and slide the door open.

  A guy is standing there, holding a lantern up beside his Leonardo DiCaprio baby face. I’d put him at about nineteen.

  “Hi!” he says, smiling. “What are you doing in there?”

  He has long eyelashes and big green eyes, but I’m not in the mood to humor anyone. I adopt a suitably haughty expression. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Well, your van was rocking and there were some pretty weird noises coming from inside, so I thought maybe someone was getting murdered, or something.”

  I look at him incredulously. “That’s the first thing that sprang to mind when you saw the van rocking?”

  He grins. “Well…now that you mention it…sorry. Was I interrupting you and your boyfriend?” He peers around me to look inside the van.

  “Um, you do realize you’re being incredibly inappropriate, don’t you?”

  “Actually, I didn’t. What do you classify as inappropriate?” He satisfies himself that there’s
no one else in the van, and then stares at me, a look of sheer horror coming over his face.

  “Oh my God, I wasn’t interrupting a…you know…personal moment, was I?” He puts extra emphasis on the word personal.

  I bark out a laugh, despite my current mood. Is this kid for real?

  “Er, no. But thank you for that look of complete mortification you displayed just now.”

  He relaxes. “Oh, good. My brother Matt is always telling me I have no boundaries – but I feel like boundaries are a useless societal construct that just keep us all feeling separate and depressed.”

  “How old are you?” I ask.

  “Twenty. Why do you ask?”

  “Because you have some pretty advanced ideas for someone who looks barely out of high school.”

  “Try growing up with four older brothers. You learn a lot.”

  “Are you in college?”

  He takes my question as a signal to make himself comfortable. He pulls the door open so that he can climb in and then shuts it behind him. It suddenly feels a bit odd being alone with a stranger in such a confined space, but my guest doesn’t seem to notice. He leans back against the wall and places the lantern beside him.

  “Yes, I’m in college. I’m studying graphic design. I also write graphic novels.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “It really is. Except I think Dad is worried I’m going to be poor and ask for handouts.”

  “You seem like you’d be capable of standing on your own two feet.”

  “Thanks. I like to think so. So, what’s your name?”

  “Chrissie. You?”

  “Oliver. Oli.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Oli. Even if you do have an odd way of introducing yourself to people.”

  “Okay, so now we’ve got that out of the way, do you want to tell me what you were actually doing when I knocked on your van just now?”

  “Oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  “No, come on. Tell Uncle Oli.”

  I laugh again. “You are a crack-up. All right, if you must know, my husband just told me he’s getting remarried. I was a bit upset.”

  “Jeez. That sucks. Had you already split up?”

  “Well, yeah. But he’d been putting off signing the divorce paperwork for God knows whatever reason, so I wasn’t really expecting to hear something like that.”

  “Do you know the chick?”

  “What chick?”

  He looks at me strangely. “The one he wants to marry?”

  “Oh. It’s not a chick. It’s a guy called Jasper. And no, I haven’t met him yet.”

  “Fuck. That’s brutal.”

  “Yes. Yes it is.”

  “Oh, so you were crying. Damn, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Thanks for distracting me.”

  “See, I knew I was supposed to come and say hi. I just had this feeling.”

  “Did you now?”

  He acts as if he’s going to say one thing but then changes his mind. “Actually, I thought that anyone who drives a van like this would probably smoke weed. I was going to ask for some.”

  “Ah. The truth comes out.”

  “So do you?”

  “Do I look like I smoke weed?”

  “Well, maybe. I’m not one to judge.”

  “Sorry to disappoint. The van isn’t mine. I’m just borrowing it from a friend.”

  “Oh, cool. You on vacation?”

  “Not really. I’m heading up to the Earth & Fire Festival to talk to someone.”

  His eyes light up. “No shit! That’s where we’re going too.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Me and my brother Matt. Mom and Dad said they would feel more comfortable about me going if one of my brothers went too, seeing as I haven’t been before. Matt is the oldest, but he’s definitely the coolest. Although, not at the moment. If I’d known he was going to be such a downer, I would have asked one of the other guys.”

  “Oh? He doesn’t want to go to the festival?”

  “I don’t think he wants to do much of anything at the moment. He won't tell me what’s wrong, but he spends way too much time staring into space or writing in his notebook.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “No, it isn’t. But once we get to the festival, I’ll just ditch him and find my own crew.”

  “Your poor brother.”

  “Nah. He’ll be fine. And he can always track me down if he cheers up, but I think he might appreciate having a few days in the desert on his own.”

  “I can relate to that.”

  “So what’s your offering?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “At the festival.”

  “I’m still not following.”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t have an offering.”

  “Well, if you explain to me what it is, then maybe I can answer you. Do you mean like at a shrine where you give flowers or rice?”

  He chuckles. “No! I mean the service or product you’re going to trade in exchange for other services or products while you’re there. You know you can’t use money at the festival, right?”

  Actually, I didn’t, but I’m not going to tell him that. “Oh. Well, I’m only going to be staying for one night, so I don’t think I’ll need an offering.”

  He holds his hands up in a stop motion. “Whoa. What do you mean you’re only going to be there for one night? You don’t just go to something like Earth & Fire for a few hours.”

  “But I told you, I just need to find someone and then I have to return the van to LA and get back to work in San Francisco.”

  “Lady, you are weird. Why don’t you call in sick and hang around for the whole thing? Soak up the vibe?”

  “We’ll see. I do have obligations to the owner of this van and my boss, so I don’t have total control over what happens.”

  “Yeah, you do. You should follow your own path.”

  “Easy to say when you’re a young kid with no responsibilities.”

  “Hey! I have responsibilities.”

  “Do you work?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I volunteer at a company that supplies drinking water to people in Africa.”

  I instantly feel terrible. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have judged you. I am a horrible, horrible person.”

  He breaks out into a huge grin.

  “I’m kidding. I don’t actually volunteer at a water charity. I am exactly as you said, a young kid with no responsibilities – and I’m going to make the most of it while I can. I know from my brothers drilling it into me every other day how quickly this phase passes. I’m proud to be a slacker.”

  I contemplate hitting him. He must notice my conflicted expression, because he laughs. “You want to physically hurt me right now, don’t you?”

  I nod.

  He raises his chin at me. “Go on then. I’ll give you a free shot.”

  “I’m not actually going to hit you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because! People don’t do that. At least, civilized people don’t.”

  Oli’s phone beeps. He pulls it out of his pocket and reads the screen.

  “It’s Matt, wondering where I’ve disappeared to. I guess I should go back. So you’re sure you don’t want to hit me?”

  “No! But get out of here before I change my mind!”

  He winks. “Thanks for the chat. And you really don’t have any weed?”

  I shove him lightly. “Go!”

  “Well, if you do decide to stay at the festival for a while, come and find me. We’ll hang out.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  He shoots me one last cheeky smile and disappears into the night.

  I shake my head. What a character.

  At least I can thank him for keeping my mind occupied for a while. And I’m so wiped out from all the driving and my subsequent meltdown that I really am able to just close my eyes and f
all asleep.

  Thank God for small mercies.

  ***

  I wake up, disoriented. It’s dark and cold, and I am really hungry. I feel like I’m in a metal box of some sort.

  Oh, right. The van.

  Some days I wake up alert and happy and like the day is full of possibility.

  This is not one of those days. Actually, those days have been very few and far between lately.

  I can’t believe Corey is getting remarried! What a dick. I’m sorry, but I just can’t be mature about it anymore.

  I’m feeling groggy, so I wrap myself up in my jacket and brave the morning chill, hurrying over to the shower block and turning the hot taps on full. I quickly strip down and throw myself under the steamy water.

  Ah. That’s better.

  I give myself a cursory scrub-down – it’s not like I have anyone to impress - and then towel off and redress in the clothes I just took off.

  I make my way back to the van and inspect the other vehicles parked nearby. I wonder which one belongs to Oli and his brother. That gypsy style vintage camper over there? Or the small tent next to it?

  I get back to the van and climb inside to tidy up. I reach over to my cooler and pull out a granola bar. It’s not enough to satiate my hunger, so I make up some peanut butter and jelly with the bread I bought yesterday and chow down on that too. I would kill for a coffee, but I don’t have any. That will have to be my first stop this morning.

  I’m back on the road by seven. My GPS still says there’s six and a half hours to go. I grab my caffeine fix from a little place on the edge of the highway near a town called Yerington and then only stop for bathroom breaks after that. Despite Gia urging me to relax, I find I’m unable to. I can’t stop brooding about Corey and I have nothing but low lying scrub and desert to distract me.

  Just before two, I finally reach the stretch of road leading into the festival grounds. The queue of vehicles in front of me is a good distraction from my grumpy mood. There are several old yellow school buses, quite a few Winnebagos, a lot of station-wagons and hundreds of vans. A good percentage of them are decked out even more outrageously than mine.