She stared at her notebook. Her own writing was large and uneven, like a very young child’s.
ALB BRECH
Below that: ILOVEYOU
chapter 3
“EXCUSE ME?”
Althea was on the phone. There was no one on the other end of the line. No one live, anyway. She saved the message, and listened to it again, scrawling some notes.
“You demanding, disorganized assholes.”
The voice mail message was from her client, who wanted advertising concepts and a media strategy for a meeting with their executive team. Ten color copies of a presentation, in Ottawa, the next morning by ten.
The message had been sent a half-hour earlier. It was now two in the afternoon. She forwarded the message to Simone, the director on the account.
Althea was an account executive at Continuum, the advertising firm she’d joined right after graduating from the University of Toronto with an English degree. She started as an intern, making next to nothing, was promoted to account coordinator six months later, and a year after that, to account executive. She acted as a client liaison, and coordinated marketing, promotion and ad campaigns, working with copywriters, designers and producers.
On television, a career in advertising was portrayed as being exciting, glamorous even, and since being in the business, Althea couldn’t work out why. The competition was intense, the hours long, the clients demanding and the staff turnover high. Depending on the client, an account executive could be on call at all hours.
It was true that advertising could be lucrative. High-profile clients willingly paid hundreds of dollars per hour to the firms they retained. The people who made advertising their career thrived in a work-hard, play-hard culture. Playing hard included lots of partying, dating, even affairs.
She listened to her next message — Kevin’s voice — and her heart sank. He sounded weary.
“Listen, for our date tonight, I’d like to make dinner for you, okay? Just the two of us. I want to talk with you about something, so if you can let me know your timing, I’d appreciate it.”
There was no way she could make it to dinner. She felt a pang of guilt. This was the third time he’d attempted to plan an evening like this over the last two weeks. Their summer schedules had been nuts, and they were both feeling the strain. This was also the only night that was good for him this week, because tomorrow, he was moving out. Kevin was going back to school to earn his teaching degree at Queen’s University in Kingston, a three-hour drive east of Toronto. So they’d be spending even more time apart.
Kevin was Althea’s first love, and had been her best friend since they met five years before. When her relationship with Sophie was tenuous, Kevin provided her with the love and stability she had been missing.
The oldest of seven children from a strict Roman Catholic family, Kevin had grown up to be freakishly responsible, as Althea liked to point out. He wore glasses over his amber-brown eyes because he thought they made him look older. He was an athletic six foot three inches tall, and shy about his height. He was gorgeous and didn’t even know it. For this, Althea loved him even more.
Kevin and Althea met during orientation week at the University of Toronto in their first year. The first time they met, they ate noodles in Chinatown at four in the morning with some friends. The second time, they drank coffee after running into each other at the campus bookstore. The third time, they had dinner at the Madison pub that turned into breakfast. Two months later, Althea moved out of Sophie’s home permanently, and rented an apartment with Kevin.
Althea called Kevin back and left him a message, apologizing, saying she’d be late, she didn’t know exactly what time she’d be home, but that when she got home, she’d make up for it. She hung up.
Simone flashed by, and Althea raced out of her office to catch her.
• • •
AT TEN AFTER TWO in the morning, Althea opened the door to their ground-floor apartment, and leaned on it heavily as if the extra weight would keep it from squeaking.
The door squeaked anyway.
Wired and awake, she stepped inside, dropping her briefcase, hopping as she took off her black pumps. Her long legs, which inchildhood had created the awkwardness of being the tallest girl in the class, had long ago turned into her greatest asset. Barefoot, she padded across the hardwood floor. As she walked across the living room, she almost tripped over the cardboard boxes Kevin had packed. Stepping around them, she peeled off her teal jacket, white blouse and black skirt, leaving them where they fell.
She could hear Kevin’s breathing, deep and steady, and felt a pang of regret. She had not expected to be this late. She had singularly screwed up the evening he had planned — again. Patience. Tiptoeing over to the bed, she lay down next to his sleeping form, molding her naked body to his.
She had been planning what she’d do to him all the way home in the cab.
Eyes open, her hands roamed over his back, his chest, and he stirred. Her lips moved very slowly, from the nape of his neck, to his shoulders and down his spine to his buttocks. Still half asleep, he was hunched on his side, so she rolled him toward her, pushing aside the covers and taking him into her mouth fully, gently, easing him awake. This was just the beginning. A little something to remember me by. Moaning, his hand moved into her hair, then both hands were under her chin and he moved her head away. He went flaccid.
“No, Al ... okay? No.” For the first time, she not only felt guilt, but a small finger of fear. Too little too late? He took her hand, squeezed it weakly, and turned away from her. The rejection sank in.
Spooning him, she listened to Kevin as he slept, and held him close, her eyes open, going over in her mind what had just happened. She knew Kevin. He had always loved it when she was spontaneous. She wondered if she should say something. It wasn’t the time. She shook off the feeling of doubt. Get over yourself. All relationships had their ups and downs.
• • •
7:30 A.M.
Althea sent the email which contained the files for her client’s morning meeting to her printer. Keeping an eye on her InBox for the printer’s confirmation, she made a phone call.
“The freakin’ file’s gone, it’s out of my hands! Even if the printer screws up, I won’t hear about it for an hour or so. So when are you guys leaving?”
Tori Carnahan was still the big sister that Althea never had. With curly brown hair, and flawless olive skin over a small, resilient frame, Tori was one of the smartest, and most disciplined people Althea had ever met. She came from a big-business family and was finishing up her law degree at the University of Montreal. Later this morning, she would be giving Kevin a ride to Kingston on her way back to school.
“At nine, if Kevin’s on time.”
“Give him a break if he isn’t. I woke him up late last night, poor guy.”
“Have you heard anything?”
“I’ve heard from Rotman, I’m in if I want it. Queen’s is taking their sweet time, though with my acceptance at Rotman, I think my chances are good. Rotman wants confirmation soon. I wonder if it would be too presumptuous to decline before I hear from Queen’s? I just hate having my life on hold like this, you know?”
“Don’t rule out Rotman. It’s a good school and it’s always good to have options.”
“Yeah, I know. But I’d rather not do the long-distance relationship thing, especially right now. Kevin and I have had a tough enough time connecting when we’ve been in the same city.”
Tori was silent. Althea had an urge to share what happened last night, what she was really feeling. That for the first time in five years, she was worried about her relationship. She held back. Instead, she said:
“I also have to give notice at work, not to mention the apartment and moving. I’m just exhausted thinking about it. You know what it’s like.”
“True enough.” Tori seemed distracted. Althea could feel her restlessness.
“You feeling okay? You sound tired or something.”
&nb
sp; “A bit tired. Ate something that disagreed with me maybe.”
“Sorry we didn’t get together before you left, it’s my fault.” One more person she had let down. The guilt churned.
“It’s okay. So what are you writing these days?” Tori asked, her voice soft. Even as a little girl, Althea had loved writing. Tori had always been her biggest fan. At least, before she met Kevin.
Althea wrote first in her journal. Then, she wrote long letters to friends. More recently, she wrote the odd short story. After finishing her English degree, she had contemplated writing a novel. Then she got a job at Continuum.
“Nothing for a while. Work’s been nuts.”
“You’re good you know. Don’t forget about it.”
“Thanks for the nag. Kevin hasn’t even bugged me about that lately.” Tell me a story, Kevin would say, grinning at her. At first, Althea had looked at him, tongue-tied. Until she realized that when she talked, she told stories. When she wrote letters, she told stories. It was part of who she was.
“Well, I’m sure it’s not that he’s forgotten about it — you both have a lot going on.”
“I know. Listen, I just got an email from my printer, I gotta go. I’ll call soon, okay?”
“Okay.”
Althea hung up and thought about their conversation. Tori sounded tired and unfocused, and that wasn’t like her. But it was more than that. She sounded sad. She shrugged off the feeling. Tori was the strongest person she knew.
Over the years, Tori had always been there for her. It was Tori who had helped Althea finesse her Masters of Business Administration applications last year, reviewing each draft with a perfectionist’s eye, challenging each statement one by one. Tori helped her get in to the MBA program. Not only that, if it hadn’t been for Tori, she might not have even had the courage to apply.
Althea wanted to call Tori back, ask what’s wrong, but she held off. Tori was intensely private, so she didn’t want to push. She knew that Tori would share when she was ready.
In the meantime, Althea had enough in her own life to worry about.
• • •
ON SATURDAY MORNING, ALTHEA sipped a Starbucks venti low-fat latte on her way to the apartment. It was sunny, and the rows of mature trees and gardens were bursting with late-summer color. Their neighborhood was St. Clair and Avenue Road, in central Toronto. People here lived in luxury condos, rent-control high rises, and houses split into a number of units. Althea and Kevin shared one of these, on the main floor of an aging Victorian.
At their kitchen table, she turned her attention to the mail that had accumulated since Kevin’s departure. Not only was she a stick-in-the-mud, as Kevin often teased, she was also a pack rat. Her eye caught the answering machine’s red light blinking at her. Crap. Missed him again.
“Hi, it’s me again. Was thinking we could get together next weekend in Toronto if that works. I won’t be too busy yet. Call my people, will you, and let me know. Bye.” On the message, Kevin’s voice was tight. They had been playing telephone tag for days. Her cell was unreliable, on its last legs. At work, she was never at her desk. My fault, again. Althea picked up the phone, tried his cell and got voice mail. She sighed heavily, hung up without leaving a message, and turned back toward the monolithic coffee that matched the pile of mail.
Have to let the post office know that I’m moving — that is, if I’m moving. That was one more thing she had to decide. Her head hurt. Just as she went to put her head down on the table, she spotted a letter from Queen’s University. Her heart leapt.
• • •
BARELY ABLE TO CONTAIN her excitement, Althea turned off Highway 401 East, at the Kingston exit, three hours after leaving Toronto. As she approached downtown Kingston, the churning green of Lake Ontario became visible, muted under a grey sky. Despite the clouds, a number of sailboats dotted the bay.
Kingston billed itself as the North American freshwater sailing capital, and was a university town. The first time she and Kevin visited Queen’s University, they had been entranced by Kingston’s old stone houses, open waters, and green spaces. She knew she would love living here. Moving day could not possibly come too soon.
She now viewed moving to Kingston like their final destination at the end of an excruciating marathon. Like a long-distance runner, Althea could see herself falling just as she crossed the finish line.
As she parallel parked, her muffler roared, and the small silver Omni shuddered and stalled. She left the key in the ignition and began strok-ing the steering wheel.
“Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll take you to the well-used car doctor, if you behave for the next twenty-four hours. Okay? Is that a deal? Just twenty-four hours.” She turned the key and the engine roared to life.
“Good girl.” She kissed the steering wheel and shifted into park. She had made it: Kevin would be proud.
“I can’t believe you talk to your car,” Kevin had laughed at her, shaking his head.
“She and I, we have a special understanding.”
“You’re nuts.”
“And how many times has she let me down?”
“That’s what’s nuts — I can’t believe it.”
“That’s right, none. And how many times has your car left you stranded?”
“At least when I’m driving, I know where I’m going,” Kevin countered.
She smiled, remembering. Kevin was right about that. She was always getting lost.
She began looking for Kevin’s new place. It was one of a series of furnished cottages on the lake, compact and basic, with hardwood floors, and a cement block veranda. All were rented to students. On windy days, the waves lapped up over the veranda and pooled around the foot of a charcoal barbeque. Inside, she remembered a huge front window overlooking the water, and a wood stove.
“You’ll need the stove. It gets cold out here in the winter,” the man who rented the cottages had told them. Despite the warning, Kevin rented the unit immediately.
Althea tried the door to Kevin’s unit. It was locked. That’s what you get when you don’t call first. So much for spontaneity — again. Sighing, she peered inside. She could see part of the picture window, and a doorway which led to a narrow galley kitchen. Kevin’s windbreaker was draped over a chair.
After the couple of months they’d had, she really wanted her arrival to be a surprise. She reached for her cell phone, and when she couldn’t find it, had a flash of it recharging on her kitchen counter. Useless.
She decided to explore. Kevin would be back eventually. If he wasn’t home in a couple of hours, she’d find a land line and track him down. In the meantime, she’d plan dinner. Maybe write him a story. Maybe even a sexy story. The way she saw it, since classes hadn’t started yet, they had no reason not to spend most of the evening, and tomorrow in bed. Finishing last night’s story.
Instead of taking her car, she decided to walk. Althea loved to walk, especially along the water, and after driving for the last three hours, she felt in need of exercise. She strode by the row of cottages, and turned toward the center of town, trying to recall where she had seen a grocery store. The breeze was a thick breath and the clouds overhead, oppressive. As the clouds opened up and poured their contents down on her, Althea ducked into the entrance of a small gift shop, and was almost knocked down by a frantic, pear-shaped woman brandishing a broom.
“Get out, get out, you filthy beast, out!” The woman shook, her short, round body moving with alarming momentum into the teaming water outside. A slight young man wearing a wrinkled white shirt stood behind her with a badminton racquet, his head tilted up, looking down occasionally to make sure he stayed out of the woman’s way. He glanced at Althea.
“We have bats,” he explained, as Althea spotted a black streak coming at her from the back of the store, dipping close, and then swooping up again. Althea jumped as the man hit the bat with the racquet, knocking it to the floor. He looked at her, as if to apologize.
“Stuns them so we can sweep them out.”
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br /> The woman was back with the broom. They’re a tag team, Althea thought, as the woman swept the stunned bat out of her store. Althea followed her, balancing the idea of getting drenched by rain, with getting swarmed by bats. The woman, her hair falling into her eyes, attacked the newest bat like a champion curler and with a flourish, swept the stunned creature out into the street, returning inside with a wild whoop.
Outside, the rain was slowing. Althea moved toward the small animal, which was squirming on the glistening pavement, its jaws moving soundlessly. As she approached it, the bat locked eyes with her. It continued to struggle, flapping its wings as if positioning for takeoff, bouncing a bit, then stopping as if it had run out of fuel.
Althea didn’t like bats diving over her head, but she wasn’t alarmed by them when they were still. Was it injured? She wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t sure what she’d do if it was. She turned back to the store just as the woman swept another bat into the street, and crouched as it flew past her.
She looked for the bat on the ground, and didn’t see it at first. Maybe it was okay, she thought, then inhaled sharply as it reappeared, jumping toward her. The bat was a foot away from her now, its little mouth moving as if it was trying to tell her something. As it gazed at her, she felt tension, a free-floating anxiety.
The bat flew up and she jumped back, instinctively covering her head.
• • •
AN HOUR AND A half later, Althea walked back to the cottage with a bottle of their favorite Spanish red, Campo Viejo, a six-pack of local beer, two steaks, the ingredients for a Caesar salad, eggplant, peppers and zucchinis to grill, and Haagen Dazs Caramel Cone Explosion for dessert. In her back pocket was an envelope with writing on it. For K: To be read aloud, after dark.
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