Searching For Meredith Love

by Julie Christensen

  “She says she’s ill. All I know is I’ve got twenty-five people coming to my home tonight and no food.”

  Meredith walked back to the fire and sat down. “Yes, that is an emergency. What can I do?”

  “Can you come over and help me cook?”

  “Sure. When do you want me there.”

  “An hour ago.”

  “Well, I’ve got a massage at 11.”

  “Screw the massage, Meredith. I’m in crisis here.”

  “Well, they’ll charge me for it even if I don’t show.”

  “I’ll pay for this massage and another. How’s that? Now can you come over?”

  Meredith looked at the fire and wondered how she could put it out. With dirt from the yard? “Okay, I’m on my way.”

  “Great. Can you pick up a few things on your way?”

  “Sure. What do you want?”

  “You’ll need a pencil.”

  Sarah’s apartment building was an old elementary school, newly refinished with enough old features left intact to remind visitors and residents alike of its civic history. Outside, reliefs of women with heaving bosoms studied books. Indoors, small, 30’s style lights were mounted every five feet down the length of the hall. Sarah’s apartment was all the way down, on the left. Consistent with the understated, elegant style of the building, a small, dried wreath of muted colors hung on the door.

  Sarah was waiting and opened the door when Meredith arrived loaded down with five bags of groceries. “Did you drive to Santa Fe for these?”

  “Sarah, look at me. I’ve been shopping for you.”

  “Sorry. I would have gone myself, but then you would have had to set up, and you don’t know where everything is,” she explained as she unloaded three bags from Meredith's arms. “I’ve got the whole cooking thing organized in my head. We should start with the puffed pastry and the gnocchi, because they both need to chill. Here.” Sarah handed Meredith a sheet of paper written in her meticulous hand. “That’s your list. This is mine. We should have this whole thing done by five. The guests arrive at seven.”

  By the time the first guest arrived (rudely early) at 6:55, Meredith was ready to collapse. Her back ached, her hair was knotted and greasy from standing over the stove. She stunk. So did Sarah. At 6:30, Meredith had insisted that Sarah go shower. Now she was greeting people in a brown velvet dress that must have cost $400.

  Meredith was still wearing the jeans and T-shirt she’d thrown on that morning. Eleven hours later, she knew if she went home to change she’d never come back. The thought was appealing. She could picture her novel, laying face down in the rocking chair. Not even Sarah could criticize her if she didn’t come back. She could say she fell asleep.

  “Meredith, get away from the stove,” Sarah was standing in the kitchen now, with a glass of wine in each hand.

  “I’m just waiting for the gnocchi to rise. It’s almost done.”

  “Annette is going to watch the gnocchi rise.” One of Sarah's other friends, Annette, was a short, girl with a good heart despite her affinity for black clothes and black eyeliner.

  “Yes I am,” Annette said. “Out of my way, Meredith. After all your work, I’m going to come out with the last dish and let people give me credit for the spread out there.”

  Sarah walked up to Meredith. “You were amazing. If not for you, I'd be serving take-out pizza.” She handed Meredith a glass of wine. “Drink this,” she commanded.

  “Sarah, if I have a sip I’ll fall right asleep.”

  “Drink it.”

  Meredith took a sip.

  “Now go upstairs and get in the shower.”

  “I don’t have any clothes here. I’ll just run home and change and come back.”

  “You’re going to wear some of mine. Now go.” Sarah pushed Meredith down the hall to the bathroom. “Finish that wine,” were her parting words as she shut the bathroom door behind Meredith.

  Sarah dressed Meredith in a slinky rose colored satin dress. “This isn’t me,” Meredith whined.

  “No, but it should be,” Sarah said. “Your wardrobe makes you blend into the walls.”

  Meredith stepped over her hurt feelings and said, “I’ll look washed out in these colors.”

  Sarah shook her head. “This shade looks great on you.”

  When she was dressed, Sarah insisted on putting make up on her, then stood her in front of the mirror. “I look prissy,” Meredith said.

  Sarah was unrelenting. “You look like what you are, a woman.”

  Now Meredith was traveling through the crowd feeling ridiculous. Sarah's condo had small porch in back that opened to a community garden shared by the building. The party had spread out into the yard, and the night was pleasant. Citronella torches were pitched dramatically throughout the yard and Meredith could smell burning pinion wood in the air.

  The pockets of people seemed anonymous in the dark and Meredith traveled through them, staying buried in the shadows as she drifted through people’s conversations. “...heartbreakingly sad. I cried and cried...I hate sad movies...for years...and she doesn’t know it...nope...she must...she doesn’t...don’t ever buy the last batch of chile...really?...oh yes, it’s the worst...but don’t get the first ones either, wait for the third or fourth...thanks, I’ll remember that...”

  Meredith was sitting alone on a bench under a cottonwood tree in the back corner of the yard when Sarah's designer, Eli, ambled up to smoke a cigarette. He didn’t see her in the shadows until she said, “Hi, Eli.” He jumped a mile. “It’s Meredith,” she added. “Sorry.”

  “God!” Eli bent down to pick up his cigarette. “God.” He rubbed his chest emphatically. “Don’t scare smokers like that, Mer! We are already at a higher risk for cardiac arrest.”

  When Eli had first started calling her Mer, she’d thought he’d felt some sort of special friendship with her. But as it turned out, Eli shortened everyone’s name. Even names that couldn’t get any shorter, like Sarah's accountant Sue. He called her “S.”

  “Sorry,” she told him. “I just wanted to warn you I was here, before you sat on me.”

  Eli looked like a designer. Long, straight hair combed back like a lion’s mane, and pants with every crease intact, he seemed European, but really he was from Hackensack, New Jersey. Like Haagen Daaz, Meredith always thought, which was also from New Jersey, but its creators gave it a Scandinavian-sounding name to make it seem a cut above. Eli stood over her, smoking his cigarette silently. Meredith could see the orange eye, glowing brighter and longer, then shorter and duller, as Eli inhaled and exhaled. Meredith said to the darkness, “Why do you stay with her?”

  The orange glow grew brighter. Meredith waited for him to exhale. Eli was silent for awhile. She thought he hadn’t heard her, but she didn’t’ repeat herself. A door opened, streaming light from the house onto Eli but still keeping Meredith in shadows. For that instant, Meredith could see him, eyebrows furrowed, hand in pocket, rocking gently in his soft Italian leather shoes. How much did they cost? She wondered. Then the door slammed shut and it was darker than before. In this sudden darkness, Eli answered.

  “Big fish.”

  “Huh?” Meredith asked, thinking she’d misunderstood.

  Eli lit another cigarette. “Anywhere else I’d be the new guy, fresh out of school, squeezed out of big projects by long-timers guarding their turf. Here, I’m the big fish. I make every design decision. No one ever questions my choices, not even Sarah. In fact, she enforces my status.” He took a last drag and stubbed his cigarette out with his expensive shoe. “Why walk away from that because of an affair gone sour? We’re both adults. We both found someone new. That’s life.”

  As Eli returned to the party, Meredith sat in the shadows, worrying about cockroaches, but too tired to move.

  The next day the weather turned cold. Meredith lay in bed, burrowed deep under the covers. She wished for cats, to lie across her bed, kneading her stomach and giving her warmth. Cats over dogs, because cats could disappear during t
he day, separate themselves from her. Not need or want her around.

  By the afternoon, she was sick, feverish with a sore throat. She’d forgotten to drink caffeine that morning, and by late afternoon, a headache had powered through the painkillers for her throat. Meredith drank half a cup of coffee and was up until three in the morning. She drank warm milk to try to make herself drowsy, wishing for a husband or mother who could get her a blanket or rub her feet. She felt like a decrepit house on the verge of collapse but with all its lights on.

  In spite of being up so late, Meredith popped awake against her will on Monday morning. Her raw throat made her gag each time she swallowed. She gargled with hot water and salt, then drew a bath of scalding water. She lowered herself like an old lady into the steaming tub until she was immersed to her neck and read for an hour. When the water cooled, she drained the tub and refilled it. By afternoon she was feeling more in charge of things. She bundled herself into flannel and spent most of the day in bed, dozing and reading a 600-page novel. She drank huge quantities of water and herbal tea. At about three o’clock, when the day seemed its warmest, she pulled on jeans and drove herself to the nearest drugstore, where she bought tissues, Vitamin C, and Echinacea with goldenseal. Again, she wished for someone to take care of her.

  But when Sarah called that evening, Meredith couldn’t tell her she was sick. The words seemed trivial and tedious and she couldn’t push them out of herself. Saying she was sick felt like asking for help.

  Tuesday progressed badly. Her nose was sore and peeling from blowing and her chest was starting to feel congested. She considered calling in sick to work again on Wednesday. But then Ben Abel, who had clinic every other Wednesday, would not be accidentally encountered in a hallway. On the other hand, did she really want him to see her with a red, flaking nose and two zits on her chin? But if she missed him tomorrow, she wouldn’t see him again until Monday. She knew she’d go in, no matter how awful it felt to force her sick body into work clothes.

  On Wednesday morning, Meredith stepped outside into the frigid air, cursed her inadequate car heater, drove to the University. She moved through her day in a haze. She didn’t see Ben once. She felt sicker as the day progressed and finally left work early. On the way home, she stopped at Target, where she picked up cat food, a litter box, cat litter, a teal food dish, a purple water dish, and a round blue ball made of rubber. Then she drove to Animal Humane. The girl at the check in wanted to take her through the cat room. “I want whichever cat has been here the longest,” Meredith told her, which is how she ended up with a small, strong-looking, full grown cat. She was orange and off-white. Her left ear was completely orange. Meredith named her Mendra. On the way home, Mendra curled up into a small ball in her lap. It almost made Meredith cry.

  “You got a cat?” Sarah was incredulous. She had stopped by the house to give Meredith a box of green chile a customer had brought her. Sarah was not a fan of spicy food.

  “Yes,” Meredith couldn't help smiling.

  “Why?”

  Meredith hadn't bothered to sort out her motives. “I don’t know. I just did.”

  “Meredith, how can you not know?”

  Meredith paused. That was a good question. “I haven’t bothered to wonder about it. I just did it. Isn’t she sweet?” Mendra was curled up on Meredith's lap, apparently her favorite spot to catch a nap.

  “Yes,” Sarah conceded. “She’s adorable. If you like that sort of thing.”

  Chapter Four

  Meredith was on her way out when Lou Tartelo called to ask if she would please come to his office for a “chat.”

  “Right now?” Meredith asked. It was 5:05.

  “Great, I’ll be waiting,” Lou said and disconnected.

  Lou’s office door was open and just as she stepped over the threshold a fear caught up with her and made her wonder if she was about to be reprimanded for something.

  Lou stood and eagerly ushered her into his small but nicely laid out area. His desk was cluttered with medical charts and family photos. His son had Lou’s nose. When Lou shut the door Meredith stopped breathing. What had she done? She’d come back from lunch with Sarah ten minutes late. It wasn’t the first time she’d gone over the allotted hour, she admitted to herself. But some people did it every day! That doesn’t make it okay, she told herself. It's stealing. You’re stealing from the department. She looked up meekly at Lou, waiting for him to begin.

  Lou settled himself into his chair and said, “Meredith, Corky tells me you’ve got an attitude with her.”

  Meredith stared at Lou, momentarily unable to reply.

  When she didn’t answer, he went on. “She says you favor other doctors.” Lou paused here and then said delicately, “Other male doctors.” He let her absorb this accusation.

  Meredith knew that angry denials would not add credibility. She split herself in half, frustration and anger on one side, reasonable on the other. “Lou,” she began, proud of the confidence she was portraying, “other doctors here have brought projects to me with reasonable time frames. Being male had nothing to do with it. Corky expected me to squeeze an eight month project into a couple of days. I’m not a magician.”

  “It’s not easy to be a female doctor. They have fought harder than anyone else to get where they are.”

  “Are you accusing me of sexism?” Meredith could see alarms going off in Lou’s head. Probably worried about a lawsuit. With his door shut, she could accuse him of anything. Let him worry, she thought angrily. Serves him right.

  “No one is accusing you of anything,” Lou said. He straightened himself out, sitting up. “Just calm down.”

  Meredith wanted to slug him. She considered standing up and walking out. One more “calm down” comment and I will, she promised herself.

  “Corky told me that she thinks it’s a carry over from when you were her secretary.”

  Meredith's cheeks flamed from the unfairness of it all. She stood. “If Corky has a bone to pick with me, I’m sorry she went behind my back to you. I would have liked the opportunity to be present when she spoke to you. You’ve only heard her side of the story and yet here I am in your office defending myself against her wild accusations.”

  “Don’t get so excited,” Lou urged her. “We’re just talking at this point. I’m giving you a chance to tell me your side now.”

  “Corky was a very difficult person to work with when I was a secretary. She was unreasonable, unreliable, disorganized, and, at times, insulting. None of that had anything to do with her sex. And as far as I’m concerned, it’s all water under the bridge. If she can give me timely projects, I am more than happy to do my very best job for her.”

  “Please, sit down,” Lou told her, motioning to her chair. Reluctantly, Meredith sat on the edge of the chair. “No one disagrees that Corky is difficult to work with. She’s got poor boundaries and she can be annoying. But she’s also a very hard worker. You need to find a way to get along with her. I’m not your referee.”

  Meredith stood again. “I never asked you to be. Corky’s the one that came to you. Not me.” She was so angry she felt about to cry. Lou’s phone began to ring. He picked it up immediately.

  “Jack. Yes. I’ve got those numbers. Hold on.” Covering the mouthpiece with his hand, he looked up at Meredith. “I’m glad we talked. I’m going to step out of the arena now. I think that you and Corky need to stop using me as a mediator and talk directly to each other.”

  Meredith wanted to throttle him. He was so obtuse. She turned away as he said, “Jack? Got a pencil? Great...” Before she’d even opened his office door, tears were burning paths down her cheeks. She was livid. And completely impotent. He hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

  Ben Abel was sitting in one of the ‘70s style chairs that sat in a row outside Lou’s office. “Meredith?” He sat with a file folder on his knees. At the sight of her cheeks, streaming with tears, he raised his eyes for a second and then narrowed them. “Allergies?” he asked, knowingly.

&
nbsp; Meredith surprised herself by laughing. She sat down next to him, shocked by her forwardness. Ben handed her a box of tissues from Lily’s desk. She even blew her nose in front of him. Imagine that, she thought. Ben didn’t seem the slightest bit uncomfortable to have a crying woman sitting next to him. “Thanks for the tissues,” she told him. They were the thin, rough kind that the University budgeted for.

  Ben brushed away her words. Crinkling his eyes, he leaned forward and asked confidentially, “Were you fired?”

  Meredith had to laugh again. “No,” she admitted. “But maybe I should go back in and quit.”

  “Ahhh. Your spunk is back. You make a quick recovery.”

  “Well, it’s hard to get that upset about being accused of sexism. Being a woman and all,” she added when Ben looked shocked.

  “Were you giving Lou elevator eyes?”

  Meredith laughed again. “You’re really cheering me up,” she told him. “I was practically spitting fire when I walked out of there, and here you have me laughing my head off.”

  “Yeah, I think I saw some steam coming out of your ears.” He leaned in close to her face. “So, really. Are you a sexist?”

  Meredith could smell him. He had a soapy, fresh scent. She refrained from inhaling deeply. “Corky Lubbock thinks I am. She reported me to Lou for favoring the men.” She wanted to keep his face close to hers. Lowering her voice, she said, “Actually, I’m just anti-Corky. She is hard for me to handle.”

  Ben laughed. “I know what you mean. She’s well-meaning, and generous at times, but she reminds me of a seven year old with attention deficit disorder.”

  The door to Lou’s office opened and Ben dislodged himself from Meredith's gaze. Lou was looking at them with blatant curiosity. Here we go, Meredith thought, wryly. Start up the rumor mills. Ben was already gathering his things to follow Lou into his office. He looked back and gave Meredith a little wave.