Good Vibrations

by Elizabeth Parrish

  “Oh no! Maggie should really let you expense some replacements for those but I don’t know if I’d have the guts to march in there and ask if I was in your shoes, no pun intended,” Veronica responded unhelpfully.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that there was nothing in my job description about pet sitting, so maybe I’ll mention it to her. But I’m thinking I’ll surprise her and come in early tomorrow before I bring up that idea,” I replied, trying to do a little strategic thinking as I scratched my new buddy’s fury little belly.

  If only all men were this easy to please.

  “How was your weekend?” I inquired, mostly hoping that she would reciprocate so that I could tell her about my date with Jonathan.

  “I had Derek over for dinner last night, thinking that it would be a nice romantic night. Instead I find out he’s allergic to red wine and he only likes country music. Can you believe it? And it had been going so well! I can tell that our little buddy here is not the only man in my life that’s going to take some training before he’s housebroken,” Veronica responded, sounding slightly exasperated.

  “Well, I keep hearing that the best things in life are supposed to be worth the effort. I’ve put in a whole lot of effort for some pretty mediocre results so far, but there’s no way that Dr. Phil could have been wrong about something like this, right?” I said with a giggle as I clamped my hand around my fury friend’s mouth to keep him from eating the buttons off my blouse and then kissed him on top of his fury little head.

  The best way to get a puppy is to beg for a baby brother – and they’ll settle for a puppy every time – Winston Pendelton

  23. After work, having decided that perhaps it would be best if I had a receipt in hand before I mentioned the idea of reimbursement for my mortally wounded shoes to Maggie, I headed out along Robson Street to see if I could replenish my closet.

  While I was aware that Maggie would probably find a way to poke a hole or two in my argument, what girl needs a perfectly logical reason to go shoe shopping?

  As I was contemplating the relative benefits of being able to pay my rent versus treating my underprivileged feet to a gorgeous pair of buttery soft leather knee high boots for the rest of the winter (at least my feet would have a nice place to stay, even if the rest of me was homeless), I heard the familiar theme song to Sex and the City wafting towards me from my pursue.

  I had decided to go with a somewhat cheesy homage to Mr. Big for my brother’s ring tone as my brother had laughably fancied himself as a bit of a player prior to meeting Haley.

  “Hey bro, how’s winter in the desert? Has Haley knitted your camel a toque yet?” I asked, only slightly embittered as a result of not having seen the sun for the last 5 days and having to wade through the slush that was still clogging up the sidewalks.

  “I can’t lie, it’s been pretty frigid the last couple of days. We barely hit 25°C for our daytime high the other day. It’s the first time that we have ever had to heat the pool. Brrrr!” he replied, mockingly.

  “So, speaking of feeling the heat,” he continued, “did you, or did you not, send our mother to a hot yoga class in which she keeled over? I got an email from dad but he was a bit sketchy on the details.”

  “I did no such thing!” I exclaimed, with a healthy does of righteous indignation. “I simply suggested that it might be good for her if she became a bit more active instead of just trying out another post-Christmas diet this year. I mentioned that a restorative yoga class might be a good start, just to see if she liked it,” I continued, feeling quite defensive about my role in the saga.

  Knowing how Rob felt about yoga, I went on the offensive, adding, “Actually, it might do you some good too. I know you’re about as supple and flexible as an 80 year old man in a back brace, but restorative yoga is nice and gentle and it’s not done in a heated room. Anyway, based on what dad told me, mum just got a bit too relaxed in one of the poses and you know what happens when she falls asleep on her back.”

  “I was there for our family camping trips. She sounds like a rhino getting ready to charge. So what was the story about her walking home? Did they really ask her to leave the class?” he inquired incredulously.

  “No, no, no” I replied. “She made it to the end of class after the instruction woke her up, but you know that she always refuses to walk up that hill to get home. However, dad told me that she got home on her own and she didn’t call him for a ride. I don’t think she wanted to have dad drive down there and hear the story from someone else.”

  “I always wondered what it would take to finally get her to do that walk home,” my brother replied, laughing.

  “Hey, speaking of stories, I’ve got to tell you why I called…. Haley is pregnant!” he announced triumphantly after a brief pause to let the anticipation build.

  “Really?! I’m going to be an auntie? That’s fantastic! Congrats bro, that’s so exciting! Is Haley there too? Can I talk to her?”

  There had been a long period of my childhood when I was certain that my brother would never find a woman that would let him touch her, let alone reproduce with him. Plus, the idea of him spawning offspring had seemed like it would most likely be counterproductive for the gene pool.

  Thankfully, he had matured a bit with age and Haley had managed to round off some of the remaining rough edges. Regardless, I was genuinely thrilled at the prospect of becoming an aunt!

  As I let the news sink in, it quickly dawned on me that this should also come with a reduction in the number of blatantly obvious comments from my mum about how much fun her friends were having spending time with their grandkids.

  Subtlety was not one of her strengths.

  As I was pondering my reprieve from the guilt trips over my barren, childless existence, Haley’s voice burst onto the line, “Anna, can you believe it? We’re both still giddy!”

  Just wait until you see my brother’s reaction when he is faced with his first smelly diaper to change or you try to get him to wake up at three in the morning and he just rolls over on you. I’m willing to bet that the giddiness will subside.

  “That’s so exciting for the two of you. I can’t wait to babysit for you guys when you’re in town and I get to meet the new addition,” I responded, elatedly.

  The best part of a friend or relative having a baby has got to be the knowledge that, even if the new babe kicks up a fuss or doesn’t take a shine to me, I can spoil the little one rotten, hopefully appreciate a few cute movements, and then I get to hand him or her back at the end of the day.

  “When are you due? Are you guys thinking of moving back to Vancouver?” I inquired, secretly hoping that my parents might take a little sabbatical abroad when the time came.

  “We’re still talking about that but I’m not due till the end of September. We think it might have been a Christmas present,” Haley replied.

  “What a perfect story!” I exclaimed.

  Truly a gift for everyone involved!

  Love is the irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired – Robert Frost

  24. I opened the door to the office the next day feeling a bit blue. My birthday, coming up that Saturday, was rapidly approaching and Valentine’s Day would arrive only a week after that.

  In addition to facing the big 3 – 0 head on, I hadn’t heard from Jonathan since we had gone skating and we had yet to make any definitive plans for either of the upcoming occasions.

  As a result of my hair throwing a hissy fit this morning, I was a bit less punctual than usual and I was in no mood to hear about it from Maggie. Thankfully, she was nowhere in sight when I stepped inside the door.

  Spending the next several hours as coffee wench for multiple moody, morose divorcing couples had done nothing to improve my mood when a courier walked through the door and handed me a package.

  As I was about to toss the package into the mail basket, I idly glanced at the name on the card. Surprise, surprise; it was actually addressed to me.

  Tearing the package open, I found a gorge
ous formal birthday invitation inside.

  For the front cover, Jonathan appeared to have snagged a picture off of Facebook from a past year’s birthday festivities of myself surrounded by my friends and the remains of a large amount of wrapping paper.

  The invite itself read as follows:

  Please join me this Saturday for a day of pampering and indulgence. At 10 a.m., I will chauffeur yourself and Elyse to the spa for your choice of treatments. At 2 p.m., we will be heading to a speciality shoe maker who will work hand-in-hand with you to create your own one-of-a-kind footwear of your choice and design. Later that evening, I’ll being escorting you to dinner for the best oysters and view in the city.

  Disclaimer – the above offer has been pre-approved by your significant other and is guaranteed not to interfere with any other birthday related events which may or may not occur.

  Please RSVP at your earliest convenience.

  Sincerely,

  Jonathan

  Wow, that certainly brightened my day. This guy is definitely a keeper!

  My birthday celebrations in previous relationships had typically involved going to restaurants which often bore a suspicious resemblance to the favourite of said guy, often followed by tickets to a sporting event.

  While I cheer for the Canucks every spring, and I think I look pretty cute in my fitted, pink jersey, I’m pretty sure that I’ve never dropped hints about tickets to a game while I’ve been wistfully gazing into Chanel’s store windows.

  One thing’s for certain, never once has the creation of shoes been involved in my birthday festivities. And how did I not know that such a fabulous option even existed?

  Still riding a blissful high of excitement, and already mulling over potential designs in my head, I texted Jonathan to whole heartedly confirm my attendance:

  I would like to confirm my availability for all of the proposed events. Kudos for checking with my significant other first. Any information you can provide with respect to other birthday activities will bank you significant brownie points which may be redeemed, as needed, at a later date.

  I had been pursued by guys like Clayton before, and I knew from his previous birthday presents to me that there was nothing I couldn’t ask for from him. But as nice as it is to find a Chanel purse inside a gift bag, it takes remarkably little thought or creativity to come up with, and presents like that have always made me feel like he was trying to buy me rather than wanting to get to know me.

  Jonathan’s invite had given me shivers because I knew he was trying his best to find a place in my heart by coming up with ideas that were meaningful to me and he was doing a pretty good job of it so far.

  Now if only I can weasel some information out of him about what Elyse had in store for me. Elyse had yet to mention anything to me about any plans for the coming weekend and I wasn’t a huge fan of surprises.

  If I could use my feminine wiles to extract a few clues, well, I wasn’t above playing that card.

  A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with an incoming text:

  I have been sworn to secrecy regarding any and all other potential birthday-related events. Graphic and explicit details were provided regarding what would happen to me if I divulge any information to you. Your roommate may be tiny but she’s a bit scary and pretty imaginative. So, nice try, but no dice 

  Foiled! Oh well, whatever Elyse had planned was guaranteed to be entertaining, plus I still get to design my own shoes! Not much more a girl could ask for.

  Well, perhaps a little alone time with Jonathan might be fun too…

  Be nice to people on your way because you meet them on your way down – Jimmy Durante

  25. Just before lunch, Heather Mews, our most proficient and sought after mediator, wandered up to my desk.

  At 5’10, with an athletic build, an impeccably tailored suit and her naturally blonde hair tied up in a tight bun, she was an intimidating woman and not one to be trifled with.

  Heather was in her late 30’s, with a couple of adorable little kids, and an equally ambitious husband who was a partner at a large tax firm.

  While Heather had always been pleasant enough to Veronica and I, the manner in which she carries herself and her somewhat brusque attitude had a way of discouraging idle chit-chat. As a result, I was a bit surprised when I looked up and found her at our desk, tapping her foot impatiently.

  “Anna, can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked, looking slightly haggard.

  “Of course Heather, what can I do for you?” I responded, more than a bit curious and also slightly nervous about where this was heading.

  “I have a function with my husband tonight that I’m supposed to attend and which I can’t seem to get out of. My nanny has contracted pink eye, so she can’t be around my kids for the next 48 hours and I’m in a bit of a bind. You’ve met my children a few times before, right?”

  I had spent half of last year’s Christmas party at Maggie’s place playing Rock Band with Heather’s kids and drinking copious quantities of eggnog with Veronica in what had turned out to be a futile effort to avoid our co-workers.

  I was reasonably sure that her kids now knew a bit too much about some of the intimate details of my previous relationships, but this was probably not the time to mention that sort of thing to Heather.

  “Yes, a few times at the Christmas parties and such. Very cute,” I replied, benignly.

  I was always a bit on edge around Heather anyway and the idea of being solely responsible for her munchkins was doing nothing to improve the situation.

  “Thanks, and from what they told me, they seemed to think highly of you as well. Would you have any interest in watching them for a couple of hours tonight? I’ll make sure I leave then event and get home as soon as possible.”

  Hmm, well I did have a big night of reality TV planned with Elyse and Kahlua. I would hate to miss the first episode of this season’s Bachelorette and my chance to check out the full line-up of eye candy, but I’m sure I could get the kids in bed before it started and a few extra bucks never hurt.

  “Okay, sure, I’d be happy to help,” I replied meekly, thinking that if nothing else, it would be a great chance to check out Heather’s not so humble abode.

  “Thanks so much Anna, I really appreciate it,” Heather responded as she promptly handed me a sticky note with her address.

  “Please be there by six. Oh, and Anna,” she said, turning to look back at me, “I got some interesting questions from Krista after the last Christmas party about a neck injury you sustained back in 1969. You’ve evidently aged extremely gracefully since then but try to be a bit more discrete tonight please.”

  Those little brats! Apparently the sanctity of the pinky swear wasn’t quite what it used to be.

  Raising kids is part joy and part guerilla warfare – Ed Asner

  26. After having been discharged from my post for the evening, I found myself standing in front of Heather’s massive, mildly intimidating, oak doors, mentally rebuking myself for not having come up with a quick excuse that would have let me avoid the potential minefields that were no doubt lying in wait for me inside.

  I probably should have explained to Heather that the only reason her kids seem to like me so much is because we shared a similar level of maturity.

  Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to having my own progeny someday and imbue them with a healthy dose of the wit and charm that makes me so endearing and lovable.

  That being said, I had absolutely no desire to spend the rest of my secretarial career hearing from Heather how I had imprinted a bit too much of that unique something that made me so special on her scions and somehow undoing years of her proficient parenting in the process.