Good Vibrations

by Elizabeth Parrish

  At that point, he stumbled backwards towards his mat in obvious shock. He quickly grabbed his mat and gear before staggering out of the room, head down, mumbling incoherently under his breathe.

  As I was collecting myself, Veronica gave me a quick hug and whispered, “I’m so proud of you babe,” as the rest of the class briefly began to applaud.

  I don’t know if that particular experience was one of the suggested stops on the route to finding inner peace and tranquility, but it certainly had gotten me in touch with my inner voice.

  Half an hour later, after class had ended and as I was walking out to my car, I heard my phone buzzing with an incoming text.

  Like almost every other member of my generation, my phone has become pretty much an additional appendage and I quickly snatched it out of my purse and found the following waiting for me:

  Shortly after you introduced me to your fender,

  You left me smitten by your splendour,

  No need to call a public defender,

  As speechless was I rendered.

  I’m looking forward to Friday,

  Jonathan

  Aww, way to bounce back karma.

  I love mankind, it’s people I can’t stand – Charles M. Schulz

  9. The next day, during our lunch break, Veronica and I made a beeline for Pacific Centre. Not that I needed much of an excuse to shop, but Friday’s dinner felt like it called for something new and fetching.

  We soon found ourselves perusing the wares of one of my favourite independent stores and, while I think I’m reasonably petite in general, I quickly discovered that my curves were knocking a fair number of outfits out of contention for my fashion dollars.

  After diligently searching most of the store, I was starting to think that my search was going to be fruitless when I spotted a new candidate out of the corner of my eye.

  As I reached up to get a better look at a stunning, off the shoulder, lacy black and purple dress, a voice unexpectedly piped up out of nowhere, “That’s a gorgeous dress but we only have it in stock in sizes 6 and under. All the bigger sizes are on backorder for a couple of weeks.”

  I turned around to figure out where this unpleasant and unexpected news had come from and I looked down to find a tiny, five foot nothing, sales girl with ‘curves’ that would not have stood out in a group of 10 year old boys, sizing me up from head to toe.

  “Size 6 should be just about perfect I think,” I responded caustically, shooting her a withering glare while I tried my best to bite my tongue.

  “Apparently these girls aren’t on commission, eh?” Veronica whispered conspiratorially. “I think she’s just jealous that some of us actually have cleavage.”

  “As soon as she comes back to the change room and knocks on that door, I’m asking her for a size 4 no matter how this fits me,” I replied, letting a bit more resentment show than I had would have liked.

  Maybe that was a bit petty, but hey, she started it!

  After a brief, and silent, struggle (there was no way I was going to let my androgynous salesperson know that the 6 was indeed a tight fit) to squeeze the girls into place, I invited Veronica in to survey the results.

  “Wow babe, give me a couple of drinks and I think that I’d be trying to get you out of that dress. You look dead sexy in that,” Veronica noted with approval as I gave her a quick twirl.

  “It’s not too much?” I asked. “It’s a first date. I want to show off a tiny bit but I don’t want him to get the wrong impression either.”

  Okay, maybe I wouldn’t mind if he got a little bit of the wrong impression. But only a little.

  At that moment, the world’s most obnoxious salesgirl rapped on the door before saying, “Hi ladies, just checking to see if you were able to get into the 6 or if you want me to put an 8 on hold for you when it comes in?”

  Seriously? It’s on biotch!

  “The 6 isn’t too bad, but it’s a bit loose around my hips though. Could you bring me a four please sweetie?” I replied, my voice dripping with fake sincerity.

  I’m not normally one for playing games, but a girl can only be pushed so far.

  “Should we tell her that we would be more comfortable with a female salesperson when she comes back?” Veronica whispered to me, scathingly.

  “I’m dying to tell her that my nephew has that same absolutely adorable haircut that she does, but I don’t want her to ‘accidentally’ rip my dress at the counter,” I replied.

  “You’re awful!” Veronica retorted, trying to choke back her laughter.

  Seemingly out of nowhere came our new friend’s sickly sweet voice saying, “Here’s the 4. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Thanks so much dear,” I replied, attempting to feign a similar level of sweetness.

  Several minutes of deliberation later, Veronica and I emerged from the dressing room. I carried my find to the counter as I idly wondered what Jonathan would be wearing tomorrow night.

  “So did the 4 work out for you?” she inquired, the faintest hint of a smirk playing across her face.

  How did I know that she would take it there?

  “The 4 was perfect around my hips but I’m a bit too blessed up top,” I replied, trying my hardest to keep a straight face.

  The 6 had been enough of a struggle to squeeze into as it was and I might be challenging the laws of physics if I ever had to bend over in it.

  As the salesgirl handed me my bag, she got in one final dig, remarking, “If you’re trying it on at home and you decide anything needs to be altered or let out, just let us know. We have a great seamstress available. She’s a miracle worker.”

  “If I need anything sewn shut, she’ll be the first person to know,” I murmured to Veronica as we exited, my dignity trailing somewhat loosely in tow.

  Commitment is an act, not a word – Jean-Paul Sarte

  10. Returning home that night, I couldn’t wait to get Elyse’s opinion on my new purchase. Unfortunately, as soon as I walked into the living room, it was immediately apparent that she was in a foul mood.

  Sitting squished into a corner of the couch, an almost empty wine bottle in front of her with no wine glass anywhere in sight, and staring vacantly at a Jersey Shore re-run, it was obvious that something was bothering her even more than Snooki’s forthcoming book on parenting.

  “Are you trying to cut down on the dishes?” I asked with a diffident smile as I nodded towards the wine bottle.

  “The fucker wants a commitment,” she replied, scowling off into space as she took another swig from the bottle.

  “He proposed?” I inquired, incredulously.

  “Are you kidding me? No. I would have smacked him. He told me that he wants us to be exclusive. But why does he want to change anything? We’ve had a great thing going for almost a year now. No pressure, we see each other when he’s in town, and it’s perfect. Best sex of my life, no jealousy, he does his thing, I do mine, and he has to throw it all out the window and ask for a commitment. I’m only 24 and he’s not even in town half the time anyway!” she wailed plaintively before settling back into the couch with an expression that wouldn’t have been out of place on a toddler that had just been told that it was time to leave the happiest place on earth.

  Treading lightly, I asked, “So, when you say he asked for a commitment, was he talking about moving in together?”

  “No, he just said that he’s seen enough to know when he’s found something special. He said he adores me and he doesn’t want to be with anyone but me. Look, I know that it was really sweet and everything, it really was, but it freaked me out! When he said it, I just wanted to run for the door. I don’t know that I’m ready for a commitment or if that’s even what I want,” Elyse replied, her voice trailing off.

  While Sam’s dalliances abroad were about the only downside I had ever seen in him (and clearly not something that bothered Elyse since she was doing likewise here whenever he was gone), I was certainly not going to share my thoughts on the topic with Ely
se while she was in her current state.

  “How did you leave things with him?” I inquired, hoping her volcanic temper hadn’t caused a fissure that she wouldn’t be able to repair after she’d had some time to calm down.

  “I told him that I didn’t see why we need to change anything but I needed some time to think…or drink, I can’t remember which,” she said, as she downed the rest of the bottle in a single swig and headed to the kitchen to replenish her supply.

  “But I’ve got a bit of a headache, so screw thinking. I’m definitely going with drinking for now. And I’m getting two glasses so sit your fabulous ass down and get comfortable. How did your shopping trip go?” she asked, nodding towards my new purchase.

  “Well, the salesgirl was being a bit of a cow about my size, but I think the dress I found was worth the trouble,” I replied as I held the dress up against me, happy to change the topic for a moment.

  “That’s a great cut. Let’s see how it looks on you,” Elyse said, settling back into the couch for the show.

  After squeezing myself into the dress yet again, I stepped back into the room and asked, “So, what do you think?” as I did a slow twirl in front of Elyse.

  “Wow, that looks amazing!” she exclaimed. “Glad you went with something that shows off the girls a bit for once. A few more glasses of wine and Jonathan might have a bit of competition in trying to get you out of that dress,” she said with a wink.

  I knew full well that Elyse’s sexual proclivities were not strictly limited to men but, while we may have gotten a bit playful once or twice, it was going to take a whole lot of wine before anything more than that ever happened.

  “Well, given that I had been planning on finishing my makeup in the parkade the first day I met him and my hair was still drying, I was thinking that maybe I should try to make a better impression on him this time around. You know, since you’re obviously annoyed with Sam right now, maybe I’ll just slip into something that’s a little less tempting,” I replied teasingly, batting my eyelashes at her coquettishly as I went to change, way more worried about where the red wine she was currently sloshing around her glass was going to end up than potentially having to fend her off.

  However, by the time I got back to the living room, Elyse had already curled up into a little ball on the couch and passed out.

  As I covered her with a blanket, I couldn’t help thinking it was a little bit ironic that she had drank herself into a stupor because she was terrified of committing to a guy who seemed to be her perfect match while it took me risking life and limb in my car just to find a promising date!

  I don’t judge others. I say; if you feel good with what you’re doing, let your freak flag fly – Sarah Jessica Parker

  11. The next day, work flew by in a rush of appointments and calls. People tend to find visits to our offices to be less enjoyable, and even more expensive, than a trip to the dentist. So, not surprisingly, a lot of people put off their appointments until the end of the week.

  Our last client before lunch was far and away our most interesting specimen.

  Or at least he certainly was in my eyes.

  Sean Donovan had made millions after dropping out of university and starting his own tech company, which he had subsequently sold to Microsoft.

  Although he was rumoured to be quite brilliant, he looked the complete opposite from how I would have pictured a tech genius.

  Scruffy, muscular and with an arrogance that bordered on conceitedness, he had a presence that was larger than life.

  Based on my own interactions with him, and from what I had gleaned from conversations with Paul about him, it seemed clear that he looked at women similarly to how a hungry lion might view a wounded gazelle; easy prey.

  That being said, after having been on the other side of his intense, steely gaze a few times, the idea of being consumed by him didn’t seem totally unappealing.

  I knew that he had married his current wife, Natasha, a gorgeous but vapid brunette, after a whirlwind trip through eastern Asia. However, things had apparently gone south quickly from there.

  Prior to meeting Sean, Natasha had modelled and worked in Japan; ostensibly entertaining Japanese businessmen over dinner and such.

  Based on her never ending parade of designer bags and shoes, it was obvious that she had an appreciation for the finer things in life and, from the gossip that I had heard around the office, it sounded like she was willing to do whatever it took to obtain them.

  With Sean’s eyes alleged to have begun wandering almost immediately after they married, rumour had it that he had quickly become disenchanted with married life and financing Natasha’s astronomical spending habits.

  After reaching an impasse with her attorneys, he had availed himself of our services in an attempt to free himself as quickly as possible.

  Today, he entered our office fifteen minutes late for his appointment (but really, who am I to judge someone on punctuality) looking like he had just rolled out of bed, his biceps straining at the fabric of his wrinkled t-shirt as he strode to the desk.

  The presence he exuded was undeniable and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to toss a sweater on over my blouse and hide myself from him or hop up on the counter, wrap my legs around him and see what all the fuss was about.

  Either way, the nervous energy he created inside me was intoxicating.

  “Anna,” he grunted at me, his voice sounding more gravelly than usual as his piercing pale blue eyes held my gaze until I timidly looked down at my screen.

  “Hi Sean, how’re you today? Paul should be ready for you any moment now,” I replied, looking up again in time to notice that his eyes had wandered, none too discreetly, to my cleavage.

  “Can I get you a glass of water or a cup of coffee while you’re waiting,” I inquired politely as I reflexively covered my chest with my arms.

  I couldn’t even guess what a neurotic mess I would have been after a few weeks in Thailand or the Philippines with someone like Sean. Nevertheless, I was pretty sure that I was going to be spending part of the afternoon pondering the idea anyway.

  “Any chance you’ve got a bottle of whiskey hidden back there somewhere?” he asked while glancing around the office with the air of a caged lion longing to escape his shackles.

  “Sorry, espresso’s the strongest drink I can offer you,” I replied, not entirely sure how to respond to his query.

  “Figures, you don’t exactly seem the type,” he retorted brusquely as he turned away from me dismissively.

  The type?! Like I’m too prissy to drink shots while sitting across from your conceited mug?

  At that point, something in me snapped and I briefly parted ways with common sense as I retorted, “Hemingway’s is just a couple of blocks away if you can make it through your session.”

  This time my eyes held his firmly as he quietly gazed at me for a moment as he mulled the offer I had alluded to.

  What was I doing? I couldn’t go even if he said yes. Plus, I already had a date with an amazing guy that night to look forward to.

  But part of me still really wanted him to say yes…

  He looked me over appraisingly, no hint of subtlety whatsoever, as he replied, “I’ve got a flight right after this. I’ll be in Fiji for the next three weeks or so. Interested in going for a ride with me?”

  Well that sort of one-ups going for drinks now, doesn’t it?

  I gulped as I took a moment to ponder Sean’s proposition. It had been out of character for me to suggest drinks. Spending three weeks with a still-married man who I hardly knew and who had a reputation for devouring women would undeniably involve straying far from my comfort zone.