Seeing Clearly

by Casey McMillin

  I came really close to ignoring his text, but I just couldn't do it. I thought it was cute when he got jealous and protective.

  Joel: "I don't know if I want you going to the hood tonight."

  Me: "I don't remember asking for permission."

  Joel: "Let me send a driver for you."

  Me: "You crack me up. We take a beat-up Mitsubishi. People with drivers sort of stand out over there."

  Joel: "Don't go."

  Me: "Good try."

  Joel: "Can I come too?"

  Me: "Not this time, but soon for sure."

  Joel: "We cool?"

  Me: "Of course."

  Joel: "See you soon?"

  Me: "Rachel's birthday is next week, we may try to get together… haven't decided yet. Christmas is coming too."

  Joel: "Get me those names when you can."

  Me: "Ok I'll email you."

  He was talking about the names of the kids in my family. He asked me yesterday on the way home from his property to give him the names and ages of all the little ones who'd be at my house for Christmas. He said he didn't want to come empty handed. I thought it was a sweet gesture, and I was sure he hadn't meant to send me mixed signals, but I didn't know how to feel about him being so thoughtful with my family like that.

  "A few of us are going for a drink if you want to join us," Cali said, poking her head into the dressing room, and snapping me out of my thoughts.

  "I have something on Wednesdays," I said, standing with my purse in hand. I walked to the door to meet Cali. "But if you're leaving now, I'll walk with you to the parking lot."

  "So what'd you ever tell Max?" She asked me. "You and I haven’t had the chance to catch up lately, and none of the P.A.'s have the gossip."

  We walked side by side, waving and saying goodbye to people as we made our way out of the studio. "There's nothing to tell," I said. "I've been able to avoid talking to him." I let out a long, contemplative sigh at the prospect of saying thanks but no thanks to my boss. I certainly wasn’t looking forward to it. "I'm planning on calling him on the way to my friend's house tonight. I don't think it'll be a big deal. He's a smart guy; he gets the message."

  "What's holding you back? The chemist?" Cali asked, blunt as always.

  "I guess you could say that." I said. Cali could tell I wasn't going to offer much, so she dropped it and went for some lighter topics until we reached our cars and hugged goodbye. I was thankful for good friends who knew when to pry and when not to.

  ****

  Carlos, Mindy, Taylor, and I met at the mall and got into the ancient, rusty beater Carlos drove every Wednesday night. We parked on the street in front of the home of Luis and Angel Ramirez. Four of their six kids along with eight or ten other neighborhood kids ran to greet us. "Hey guys, you ready to shoot some hoops? Carlos asked.

  "We can only play for a half hour. Mi mama says we have to be back for dinner." Diego was always keeping us organized. As the oldest of six, he had a ton of responsibility around the house. The precious eleven-year-old had a special place in my heart. I walked with my arm linked with his to the basketball goal where we always played around. It wasn't the main neighborhood court. In fact, it was just a lone goal in an alley, but we had more fun with that shabby old no-netted basketball goal than should be allowed.

  Ten minutes into the game I excused myself, telling everyone I'd meet them back at the house. I knew Angel would be finishing up dinner, and I wanted to talk to her for a while before the house was full. The mother of six was only in her thirties, but she was wise beyond her years. I found myself opening up to Angel Ramirez about things I didn't talk to anyone else about. My intentions to have a heart-to-heart with her tonight was the main reason for telling Joel he could come with us some other time.

  The two youngest children, who happened to be twins, were in the house with their mom since they were a little young to be running the streets with their older brothers. They came to greet me as soon as I opened the door.

  "You're too early. Dinner's not ready yet," Angel called from the kitchen. She was obviously expecting all of us, and the chaos we'd be bringing.

  "It's just me, Gretchen," I said, bending down to pat the twin girls on the back. They each had a hold on one of my legs, so I stopped to give them some extra love before making my way into the kitchen.

  Angel peered around the corner to see what was holding me up. "Girls, let Tia Gretchen come in." The twins reluctantly obeyed their mom, but held my hands as I walked into the kitchen.

  "Smells delicious!" I said as I crossed the tiny kitchen. Angel had her hands full stirring a pot on the stove, but she leaned over to offer me her cheek, which I kissed.

  She regarded me as if I should be ashamed of myself. "Why are you getting so skinny?" she asked, shaking her spoon at me. "I hope you're hungry, because I'm making you eat."

  "You won't have to twist my arm," I said. "I could smell this before I even opened the door. What is it?"

  "It's just the sauce. I'm about to pour it over these." She opened the oven door to let me peek in. There were two pans full of enchiladas. The Ramirez family insisted on cooking for us once in a while in spite of the fact that they had very little income.

  "What's going on?" Angel asked. She knew I must have a reason for coming in before everyone else since I loved playing basketball with the kids. Not that I'm good at the sport necessarily, I just love games of any kind, and more than that, I hate to miss out on the action. Angel opened a can of juice that I was reasonably sure my trainers would have a conniption fit over. I took it from her and gulped down the syrupy-sweet liquid.

  "I just wanted to come in and visit for a few minutes before the rest of the gang," I said.

  "You okay?" She was regarding me with concern. I knew I didn't have long before everyone else came inside, and the twins were too young to understand what I was saying, so I decided not to beat around the bush.

  "Everything's fine. I mean, nothing's technically wrong. I've just been sort of an emotional wreck lately," I said with a sigh. I sat down on a barstool and Angel came to stand beside me putting a comforting arm around my shoulder. "Things are going good at work, and I know I'm really lucky, but I've just been having this unsettled feeling the last few days… almost like I'm homesick for my old life. I catch myself thinking that quitting school to go to work, no matter how good the job, was a mistake. Rachel was willing to let me work on my course load at UCLA, but I just couldn't make it happen with my new schedule at the show. It sounds stupid, I know, and I don’t want to seem ungrateful. I guess I'm just sort of in a funk and I don’t really talk to anyone about it."

  I should have been ashamed of myself for complaining about my life to a woman who's doing her best to raise a family in one of the roughest parts of L.A., but I knew Angel would understand, and right now I needed her patience and wisdom.

  "You don't seem ungrateful, and you can't help your feelings. I'm glad you feel like you can talk to me." She rubbed her hand across my back several times as if to assure me everything would be okay. "I watch your show just about every day when the twins are sleeping. You're doing a really good job. Are they good to you there?"

  "Yeah, they really are. Like I said, things are good. I don’t know how to explain what I'm feeling." I let out a heavy sigh, not really knowing how to explain feelings that I didn't understand myself. "There's this guy I've been spending some time with, maybe he's the one throwing me off."

  "Is he on the show?"

  "No, he hates the show. He's probably the reason I'm having second thoughts about the show to begin with. He's one of the clients at my old job."

  "The one who makes goggles?" she asked.

  I looked at her, surprised. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

  "Oh, please," she said pushing at me teasingly, while still maintaining the demeanor of a gentle counselor. "You've only mentioned him ten times the last few weeks. Perrin, right?" I didn't know what to say. I honestly didn't remember talking to Angel about Joel before
tonight. She looked at me for a few long seconds like she could read my thoughts if she concentrated hard enough. "Ay dios mio. Do you love him?"

  "What? No. Of course not. I mean I like him, but things would never work with us."

  I let out another long sigh, contemplating whether or not to continue. Angel was the mother figure I needed in moments like this. I was about to tell Angel Ramirez something I'd been holding inside for the past few days. I had been carrying the weight of these emotions, and I needed to get them off my chest.

  "It's just that he's the only guy I've been with in a long time, so I know he's…" I paused and took another deep breath. "I'm a few days late on my period."

  Chapter 16

  Joel

  I thought I'd have no problem going back to life as usual after a Gretchen fix, but being with her a few days ago at my property in the hills only served to wet my appetite. The memory of her all sprawled out on that quilt stayed with me in a way I wasn't entirely comfortable with. I couldn’t stop my subconscious from bringing up vivid pictures of the girl… and every time I thought of her, I felt that same tug like I was being physically pulled toward her.

  I tried to make contact with her the day after we were together in the woods, but she didn't want any part of it. I asked if I could go with her to South Central. She refused me, which only resulted in more working out. I was in better shape than my personal trainer.

  "Are you okay Mr. Perrin?" Betty's odd greeting caught me a little off guard as I entered my office. The bubbly receptionist was filling in for my assistant Gina since she had to leave town for a family emergency.

  "Fine. Why?" I asked.

  "Gina said you never come in later than eight." Betty looked at the clock on the wall to emphasize her point. "Yes indeed, and now that you mention it, you seem a little distracted too."

  "I'm good, Betty. And as far as being late, Gretchen forgot to tell you I run an hour behind when I go to the gym before work. Most of the time I come straight here, so it's rare, but you shouldn't worry when I'm late."

  "Who's Gretchen?"

  "What do you mean, 'who's Gretchen'?" I asked, incredulous. The sound of her name spoken aloud made me instantly on edge. Was Betty some kind of mind reader?

  She just looked at me like I was the crazy one. "You said 'Gretchen forgot to tell me you run late when you go to the gym'," she said. I just stared at her as I tried to remember. Had I really said that?

  "I meant Gina, obviously."

  "Okee dokee," she said, her eyes wide. "I guess that was just a little slip then."

  "Yeah." I said. I tried to pass it off as no big thing, but Betty knew I wasn't the type of person who made slips, was late to work, or distractible. She asked me one last time if I was okay before moving on to the day's agenda.

  I had an extremely busy week ahead. The new plant was on the verge of being fully operational, but I still had some things to iron out with the board members of the American Optical Association, which resulted in several last minute meetings. As if that wasn't enough, I had to deal with some licensing issues with my line of goggles and the U.S. Olympic committee. Obviously these were all very good problems to have, but I was expecting the next few weeks to pass in a blur since I'd be so consumed with things at work.

  I was usually very focused, determined, and organized, but lately there was an underlying thought in my subconscious that was taking up a lot of room. Sometimes it was closer to the surface, and sometimes it was further down where I hardly noticed it, but it was always there. She was always there. Gretchen.

  Having her was becoming a goal, and that was a little scary considering how consumed I could get with my goals. I'm the type of person who sets them and doesn't stop until they're realized. When I was thirteen-years-old I made a list of things I'd like to accomplish… and one-by-one, I've checked off most of the list. All except two things.

  Number six on the list is: Marry a smart, stable, funny, honorable, loyal, beautiful girl, and never ever, no matter what, get a divorce. (Please bear in mind that I wrote the list at thirteen, but I still think it's a good goal.)

  Number seven is: Have a son to whom you'll pass your name and fortune… maybe a few of them, and a girl or two.

  Yes, I actually wrote those exact words on a piece of paper. Even the bit about "to whom you'll pass your name". I still have the handwritten copy in my desk drawer.

  Numbers one through five all dealt with personal and career goals. Anything from, making a difference in the world, to running a marathon. When I wrote it, I didn't know exactly what my career goals were… I had no idea I'd be working with plastics at that point. Plastics are just the means I used. I knew it would be science of some sort, but at thirteen, I didn't know specifically what I'd be doing.

  Either way, goals one through five, and also eight, were already taken care of. But the two goals that hinged on finding a suitable mate were still unachieved. Those two left way too much out of my hands. I prefer being in complete control of any given situation, and love brings too many variables.

  Lately, I'd been trying to talk myself into believing that Gretchen could be the one even though I knew there was no way I could feel stable in a relationship with someone who does love scenes for a living… nor was I sure how loyal or honorable it made her. I knew the list was just a stupid list, and ultimately, I should just be with the person I wanted, but the fact of the matter was… I couldn't be with Gretchen because I wouldn't be able to handle the jealousy.

  Realizing thoughts of Gretchen were again surfacing; I turned my attention to the two voicemails that accumulated while I was talking to Betty. One was from Rachel and one was from Paul Smith. I decided to call Paul back first because his voicemail said he had a proposition for me (which, of course, peaked my interest).

  Paul: "What's up Joel, did you get my message?"

  Me: "Yeah, you've got my attention… what's the proposition?"

  Paul: "My son, the oldest, wants to see how you make the goggles. You know, maybe take a tour of the plant and talk to you a little bit. He tried a pair of them a few months back and hasn't quit talking about them. Said they shaved three seconds off his fastest time in the pool."

  Me: "No problem! I'd love to give Jack a tour. I'll get Betty to make a window this week."

  Paul: (laughing) "Just like that? You didn't even hear the proposition."

  Me: "I don't want anything for showing your son around, Paul. If anything, I owe it to you. Don't forget I called in a favor when I needed you to get me past the guard the other day."

  Paul: "Oh, that's right! How'd that go?"

  Me: "Like a dream, thanks to you. Bernie and I are pretty much best friends now."

  Paul: "Yeah, she's all right isn't she? Naw, you don't owe me anything for calling Bernie. I was planning on offering my tickets to the Lakers game tomorrow in exchange for you showing the boy around. I can't use them anyway, and they're amazing seats. You'll have fun."

  Me: "You don't have to do that, Paul, seriously. I don't mind showing Jack around.

  Although I refused, by the end of the conversation Paul had given me six courtside tickets for tomorrow night's game in exchange for spending a couple hours with his son Jack on Friday afternoon. Paul's friend (who also happened to be his lawyer) owned an unprecedented, six courtside season tickets. His family had passed them down for generations, and he routinely got offered absurd amounts of money to sell them off. Paul's family got to use them for a game or two each year, but this time his wife was in bed with the flu. Paul was offering me six seats "on the wood" among the likes of Hollywood's most famous. I thought the deal was extremely one-sided, but Paul kept saying how excited Jack would be to learn he'd be taking the tour.

  I placed a call to Rachel Blake within seconds of ending the conversation with Paul. Not only to return her call, but also to see if she and Collin wanted to come to the game. I knew Rachel was having a birthday this week, and I figured since I hadn't heard from Gretchen about any plans… there likely wer
en't any.

  Rachel: "Hey Joel, I'm glad you called me back. I emailed you the sample ad for Time. I need to have it to them by tomorrow, so look at it and let me know if you want any changes."

  Me: "I'm sure it's fine, but I'll look at it in a minute and shoot you an email if I see anything."

  Rachel: "Okay, see if you think the logo needs a drop shadow behind it, or if it stands out enough as it is."

  I laughed at how down to business she was being on a day when I mostly called to ask about birthday plans and Laker games.

  Me: "Hey, aren't you having a birthday this week?"

  Rachel: "Yeah, it's tomorrow… but, don’t worry, we're not doing anything. I don't want you to think you're not invited. It's a busy time of year for everybody with Christmas and everything. I've never been good at birthdays anyway. I'd just as soon not have a big hoopla."

  Me: "What about a basketball game? I have six tickets to see the Lakers. Not just any tickets either, they're really good ones."

  Rachel: "Wow. Really? I've only been once and it was a lot of fun. Are you sure you don't mind? Who's all going?"

  Me: "Paul Smith offered them to me just minutes ago on the phone because he couldn't use them. Something last minute. He was planning on bringing his family, but they can't make it, and now I have six tickets. I only need one or two, so you can use the rest of them to invite whoever you want."

  Rachel: "Do you want me to ask Gretchen? Because I bet she'll say yes if I do."

  I was surprised by her question so I took a few seconds to gather my wits before I responded.

  Me: "Honestly Rachel, I don't know what to tell you. Five or six days ago, maybe a week, I went to her work and we spent the afternoon together. I talked to her the day after. You know, trying to check in and maybe hang out again. Anyway she wasn't receptive, and I haven't talked to her since. I'm not saying I've been completely fair to her… but lately, it's been Gretchen avoiding me and not the other way around."

  Rachel: "Don't feel bad it's not just you. I've had a hard time getting her to call me back the last few days too. I think she's really busy at work. But I know Gretchen well enough to know she would want to see a Lakers game if we were all going."