November Surprise
Page 19
"Then maybe you should hold onto my bedroom set. Just in case."
"Fine. I just needed to know, one way or the other. So I won't sell it then."
"Sounds good, Dad."
"Okay, I'll talk to you later."
"Bye."
He hangs up first, then I set down the phone, wondering how many similar conversations we'll have this week. Dad never calls just to chat, there's always a question he needs an answer to. Once he gets the answer it takes him less than thirty seconds to get off the phone, but he'll keep calling back with the same question until he gets the answer he was looking for.
I get out of bed and walk towards the mirror, examining my morning face and hair. Not bad for a thirty-five year old with no makeup or comb. Time has been good to me, better than I deserve. The lines in my face are little ones, around my mouth and eyes, appearing mostly when I'm stressed or tired. My brown hair is still untouched by gray, and it's as thick and shiny as it was in my teens. That's the good news. I look down, away from my reflection, to examine my belly and thighs. Time hasn't been quite as good to me in this area, although still I can't complain. So what if I'm never a size eight again? There are worse things than being a size ten (or a size twelve on my bad days), and at least I have the big boobs to compliment my expanding hips and buttocks.
Truthfully, I've never been more insecure about my appearance than I am now. This is what marrying a man ten years my junior has done. Plus, Nathan isn't just any man; he's one who spends his days with size-two girls who dream up romantic scenarios with him as the hero. Early in our relationship Nathan confessed that quite a few of his students harbor crushes on him, but that's just par for the course, he said. It's what young teachers have to deal with.
I know he'd never take advantage of that; Nathan would sooner die than do something that unethical. But still, most of these girls are closer to his age than he is to mine. That's food for thought, if nothing else.
My reverie is broken by my phone ringing again.
I pick up. "Hi again, Dad."
"It's me, Sam." Through static and background noise, I hear Jane's voice.
"Where are you calling from?"
"I'm in my car. I'm sorry to call so early, it's just sort of an emergency…oh, crap!" A car horn blares. "Watch where you're going, asswipe!" Jane yells. "Sorry, Sam. Are you still there?"
"Still here."
"That jerk just totally cut me off."
I try to make my tone light. "Maybe you shouldn't be driving and talking on your cell phone at the same time?"
But my effort to speak diplomatically is wasted because she snaps at me anyway. "Please don't give me that lecture again, okay? I wouldn't have called if it wasn't an emergency. I… oh crap, hold on a second."
There's hushed swearing while I wait for the return of Jane's phone voice. "Sam?" she says, after a moment.
"Yeah," I say. "Still here."
"Anyway, you'll never believe what happened. This morning this woman from Milwaukee called. She saw our name on one of those adoption lists, and she's having her baby in, like, two weeks. She wants to interview Jake and me, because she's looking for a couple to give her baby to."
"That's great, Jane!"
"Yeah. But she wanted to meet today. No notice—I guess giving up the baby is a split second decision, so I don't know how much she can be trusted. But I'm driving to pick Jake up at work, and we're heading out. Can you cover my class at the college for me?"
"Um, I guess. Am I qualified to do that?"
"You'll be fine. Just show them how to use the video-editing equipment. You could do it in your sleep."
"Okay," I say, with more confidence than I feel.
"The class starts at three. You don't have to work today?"
"Nope," I lie. "It's not a problem. Don't worry about a thing, Jane. I've got everything covered."
"Thanks so much!"
I hear a knock at my door. Since when did I become in such high demand? "Jane, I've got to go. Good luck, and drive carefully!"
She thanks me and hangs up. I go to look through the peephole, and am horrified to see an unbearably familiar face, one that I know better than my own.
Without opening the door, I shout, "Collin, what do you want?"
He yells back, "I just need to check your stove, that's all."
"Why do you need to check my stove? It's fine."
"Sam, I have a key. Either open the door or I'll let myself in."
"Hold on." I run and throw on a pair of jeans and sweatshirt over my nightshirt, not taking the time to put a bra on as well. I cross my arms over my chest and hope nothing is too noticeable. I open the door and there he is, looking how he always looks, sort of like an older, bigger-nosed version of Orlando Bloom, but not like the strong, sexy guy in Pirates of the Caribbean. No, he's rather like the defeated yet unfortunately cute loser of Elizabethtown. Collin is the manager of our apartment building, and he's also the reason why I wound up in Shannon, Wisconsin, a small city perched on Lake Michigan, a few hours away from my hometown of Chicago.
"Why do you need to check my oven? It's fine."
"Because 2G had a leak. If she hadn't noticed it in time, the whole building could have blown up."
"So just because her oven was leaking gas you think all of them are?"
"They're all old ovens, Sam. I don't think it's a good idea to take chances." He grins. "Don't worry. I'm not making up excuses to see you. Believe me, I've moved on."
"So have I," I remind him.
"Thank God for small miracles" he says, as he moves past me into the kitchen. I follow him, and watch as he pulls out the stove, then bends down to examine the pipes behind it. Without turning to look at me he asks, "How's married life?"
"Great" I say. "Sorry you weren't invited to the wedding. It was really small and quick."
"Hopefully you can't say the same about your husband." He laughs at his own joke, while he raises himself up and pushes the oven back against the wall. Then he starts to fiddle with the stove dials. "Anyway, don't sweat it. I'm the last person you should have invited to your wedding. Although… it would have been nice if you told me yourself, rather than just adding his name to your lease."
I shift uncomfortably. "Sorry," I say. "I guess I thought, after everything that's happened between us, you wouldn't care."
He turns back around and his gray eyes squarely meet mine. "It's because of everything that's happened between us that I will always care."
I look down, switch my weight and hug my arms closer to my chest. "Is the stove okay?"
"Perfect," he says. Then without another word, he strides out of my apartment, so quickly it makes me wonder if his entire visit was a figment of my imagination, sort of like the questions you're left with at the end of that terrible Tom Cruise movie. What was it? Oh yeah—Vanilla Sky. I hate it when movies leave you wondering like that. If the entire story was supposed to be an invention of the main character's thoughts or dreams, fine. But at least be clear about it so the audience won't feel like they just wasted $10 and two hours of their life.
Uhgg. I've been awake for less than twenty minutes and already I'm having a bad day, and seeing Nathan is the only thing I can think of that will make me feel better. I look at the clock. It's at least 6 hours until he gets home, and I have to find someone to cover for the first part of my shift (Yeah, I lied to Jane about not having to work. Why complicate things with the truth?).
I stroll into the bathroom and turn the shower faucet on. The water coming out is hot and steams up the tiny space. I stand in front of the mirror, watching as my reflection slowly disappears.
Read the rest of Starring in the Movie of My Life on your Kindle.
Other books by Laurel Osterkamp:
Following My Toes
Looking for Ward
Campaign Promises
To learn more about Laurel Osterkamp and her books, visit her website:
www.LaurelOsterkamp.com
Table of Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1. August 1988
Chapter 2. 1988 - George H. W. Bush vs. Michael Dukakis
Chapter 3. November 1989
Chapter 4. 1992: Clinton vs. Bush vs. Perot
Chapter 5. September 1995
Chapter 6. 1996: Clinton vs. Dole
Chapter 7. December, 1999
Chapter 8. 2000: Al Gore vs. George W. Bush
Chapter 9. December, 2002
Chapter 10. August 2003
Chapter 11. 2004: George W. Bush vs. John Kerry
Chapter 12. November 2007
Chapter 13. 2008: Obama vs. McCain
Excerpt from Starring in the Movie of My Life
Other books by Laurel Osterkamp