by Lesley Crewe
“Was my mother kind to you?”
“Of course she was.”
“She was a little hurt that you didn’t acknowledge the flowers she sent you.”
Now I’m horrified. “But I didn’t acknowledge anyone’s.”
“Exactly.”
Once again I’m blubbering. “So you’re saying I’m rude and selfish?”
“I’m saying you don’t care about other people until they can do something for you, like drive you around in the middle of the night to deliver kittens. Or how about now? You dismiss my friendship for months and yet expect me to operate on your four cats. I’m sure once I’m done I won’t see you until one of them has another problem. Please do me a big favour, Chloe, and take your pets somewhere else from now on. It’s too hard to see you.”
He walks out of the room.
My sobbing has now reached its peak. When I pay my bill at the desk the other clients think I’ve just put my pet down. They look at me with sympathy. One woman even comes over and pats my shoulder.
“I know, dear, I know. It’s the worst thing in the world.”
I’m driving in my car, bawling, but instead of going home, where there are zilch people or animals, I drive to my psychiatrist’s office. Not that I have an appointment. His door is closed and another woman is standing there because he still doesn’t have chairs. We nod, but she’s trying to avoid me. I’m still crying.
When Dr. McDermott comes out with a patient, he takes one look at me and asks the other lady if she would mind waiting a few more minutes. She says of course not. The minute I’m in his office, we sit and he hands me a tissue. “What’s wrong?”
“Do I seem selfish and rude?”
“That’s hard to answer. I’ve only known you for about ten minutes total. I’ll be able to give you an opinion if you stay a little longer at your sessions.”
“Okay.”
He scribbles on his prescription pad. “I was going to give this to you at your next appointment, so you might as well take it now.” He hands me the paper. “The first one is a mild antidepressant that you take twice a day and the other is a low dose of anxiety medication that will see you through episodes like this. Don’t take it unless you feel out of control.”
I put the small piece of paper in my pocket.
“Are you all right to drive home?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see you at your regular appointment, but call if you need me before that.”
“Thank you.”
He leads me out of the office, and I nod at the woman who was kind enough to let me go ahead of her. I wonder if I would’ve done that in her position.
When I get home from the pharmacy at suppertime it’s dark. There are no lights on at Ollie’s, so she must be with Agatha, and my grandfather’s car is gone, which means he’s flirting with someone named Mildred or Joyce. I take a tiny anti-anxiety pill and give Steve a call. By the time he arrives, I’m calm. Calm enough to agree that revisiting the kitchen table is a great idea.
Until the utensil drawer starts to shake.
“Okay, I’m done with this kitchen,” he pants.
“Come up to my creepy bedroom, then.”
“If it’s creepy like this kitchen, I’m outta here.”
“Oh, it’s creepy, but in a decor kind of way.”
“That I can deal with.”
We have a nice evening.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I finally meet Agatha.
I go over to Aunt Ollie’s to ask Gramps if he can pick up the kittens, but he’s off skating with Lenore.
“Chloe, this is my good friend, Agatha Parker. Agatha, this is my niece, Chloe.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Agatha. I’ve heard a lot about you.” I shake her hand before I sit at the table. Aunt Ollie makes tea and puts cookie packages in front of us.
Agatha has pure white hair that sticks out from under a beret. She’s round and wearing a pair of cat’s-eye glasses that are so old they’re back in style. Her clothes look like she might have found them in a bin. Everything about her is instantly forgettable.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, too,” Agatha says in a way that implies she knows my every secret.
“Did you want something?” Aunt Ollie passes us our tea.
“I don’t only come over when I want something.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“I thought I might ask Gramps if he could pick up the cats.”
“You have a brand new car. Do it yourself.”
“I can’t. The vet and I had a falling out.”
“That nice young man who delivered Peanut?”
“I can’t discuss it right now, Aunt Ollie.”
She sips on her tea and takes a fistful of oatmeal cookies. So does Agatha, so why not. I join in.
“You can say whatever you want in front of Agatha. You’d be surprised what she knows.”
That I don’t doubt.
“Ollie and I can pick them up,” Agatha says. “But I need gas money.”
It’s five minutes away.
“Sure, thanks. I appreciate it.”
“I know you do. And one day you’ll be able to help me. That’s the way it works.”
Okay, now I think she may be a cult leader.
My depression medication obviously hasn’t had time to kick in yet, but now that I have my tiny anti-anxiety wonder drug, I think I’ll go to Trey’s party. He said everyone wants to see me. Maybe they don’t think I’m selfish and rude.
Fingers crossed.
Nothing in my closet fits. Nothing. I visit many stores in the mall and all the mirrors say the same thing: I’m not me anymore. Still, I’m kind of digging the fact that I have cleavage. I buy a little black dress and a little black coat and little black boots. As long as I only go to parties and funerals, I have a wardrobe.
I ask Aunt Ollie and Agatha if they’ll babysit the cats for me. Aunt Ollie looks at Agatha. I don’t know why she needs her opinion.
“I charge twelve dollars an hour,” Agatha says. Aunt Ollie nods.
I agree, since I’m nervous about leaving them alone so soon after surgery. It’s a very cold night and when I walk from my parking space to Trey’s condo, the snow squeaks under my boots. When I was a kid I loved that sound.
As I make my way up to the eighteenth floor, the mirror in the elevator confirms the fact that my hair is a mess. I shouldn’t be here. I need to go home. The elevator doors open and across the hall I see Trey greeting Brian in his foyer. They spy me at the same time.
“She’s here! How wonderful.”
Trey kisses both cheeks and Brian gives me a big bear hug.
“Come in, come in.”
Now there is chaos as Trey takes our coats and we remove our boots. Jerry shows up with a tray of drinks and is happy to see us. There is laughter and conversation going on in the living room. I grab Brian’s arm. “Can I stay by you?”
“Sure thing.”
We emerge into the living room and there is the whole crew. They roar when they see me. It’s overwhelming. Everyone wants to know how I am, and I say fine and smile a lot before I hold up my hands. “Before we go any farther, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for sending me such nice cards and flowers when I was recovering. It meant a great deal to me, and I’m sorry I didn’t acknowledge that right away.”
There’s a murmuring of dismissive noises, telling me not to worry and it was nothing; the kind things people say when they really mean It’s about time.
And then I see Amanda. She’s turned away from me—deliberately, it seems. My saliva immediately evaporates.
Trey says, “Amanda?”
She turns around and looks at me. There’s an awkward pause.
“So how have you been, Chloe?”
“Great.
”
“You look good.”
“No, I don’t, but thank you for saying so.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. I’ve been so busy.”
“Oh yes, I can imagine.”
I’m aware that even though Jason is talking to someone else, he’s keeping his eyes on Amanda. For God’s sake, I’m not going to choke her. This is unbearable.
“Look, Amanda, I apologize for not calling you back and not talking to you that day on the porch. I was hurt and didn’t know how to handle it.”
She grabs my arm. “Of course you were hurt. I understand completely. It was my fault you were out of commission and then they put me in charge. I don’t blame you for ignoring me, but you have no idea how often I’ve wanted to call you about the show. I hope we can be friends again. I’ve missed you a lot.”
The party goes full throttle, and it is gratifying to see everyone. Jerry keeps trying to give me wine, but I’m not in the mood. He offers mineral water instead. Amanda and I toast each other, and then Jason comes over and hugs me. He’s such a nice guy.
The canapés are delicious. I find myself standing by the buffet table sampling everything and am almost sorry when Trey pulls me away.
“Okay, everyone, it’s almost nine. Take your seats!”
We sit and stare up at Trey’s enormous flat-screen television over the stylish and sleek gas fireplace.
“I forgot one thing!” Trey turns to me. “You are the only one here who doesn’t know who Austin picked. Do you want to know or shall we forever hold our peace?”
“I don’t want to know.”
“You heard her, folks! Not a word!”
And then it starts. We are amazed at how good it looks, everything seamlessly cut. Trey cries, “Look at the lighting! Is that not the best lighting in the world?”
Everyone claps and Jerry takes a bow. “That means a lot coming from the best host in the world!”
Which sets everyone off.
“That is the best makeup in the world!”
“Look at that camera angle! Brian rules!”
“Look at Sydney’s flattened nipples!”
“And look at that fabulous man!” Amanda says when Austin comes on the screen. Everyone goes wild. And he does look fabulous. Everything about him is perfect.
“Who’s Ryan Gosling again? Because he doesn’t have anything on our boy!”
No one is listening to the dialogue. Everyone is too busy remembering what went on behind the cameras during each scene.
Jerry jumps up and points at the screen. “This was about eighteen hours into the first shoot. Look at the bags under Trey’s eyes. That’s your fault, Chloe. You nearly killed him!”
The girls look so happy and hopeful chatting together on that first night, their hearts not yet broken.
All at once my own heart is fluttering. It’s scary and I want to leave, but I don’t want to ruin the party. I excuse myself, “Off to the loo!” and no one pays attention. Once I get to the hallway I search for my coat, which is among a pile of others on the bed in Trey and Jerry’s room. I tiptoe back to the foyer and zip my boots as Trey comes out of the kitchen with yet another bottle of wine.
He looks concerned. “What are you doing?”
“I really need to go, Trey. Please say goodbye to everyone.”
“You’re upset, Chloe.”
“No, no. I had a wonderful time. Thank you for everything.” I kiss his cheek and then literally run out the door and head to the nearest stairwell. I’m afraid someone might come out of the apartment and try to dissuade me while I wait for the elevator.
I get back on the elevator three floors down, my heart still racing. Once I hit the cold air outside, I take great gulps of air and the panic recedes a bit. By the time I squeak back to my car, I’m not shaking anymore.
When I get back home, Aunt Ollie and Agatha are in the living room watching the last hour of The Single Guy, with the cats spread out around them.
“We’re watching your show,” Aunt Ollie says. “So far it’s not bad.”
Agatha shakes her head. “It’s a load of shit if you ask me.”
I run up the stairs and lock myself in the bathroom, trying not to die because that’s what it feels like. Aunt Ollie follows me upstairs and bangs on the door. “Are you okay?”
When I don’t answer, she paces in front of the door. Then I hear Agatha at the top of the stairs.
“She owes me thirty-six dollars.”
“She’ll give it to you in the morning, isn’t that right, Chloe? You’ll give Agatha her money in the morning.”
I take two twenty-dollar bills out of my wallet and slide them under the door. “Keep the change!”
Amanda calls me first thing. I don’t want to talk, but I’m stuck.
“Chloe, what happened last night?”
“My stomach was upset. It must have been something I ate. I needed to get home. You know what that’s like.”
“I’m so relieved. I thought it had something to do with the show. Look, why don’t you come over for lunch on the weekend and we can get caught up.”
“Sounds good.”
“Feel better.”
“Thanks.”
When I turn on my laptop a few days later the CBC website is filled with commentary about the show. The Single Guy is a hit, number one in its time slot across Canada. Every single woman across the country is in love with Austin, at least that’s what the message boards say.
I should be pleased, but I don’t feel anything at all.
I’m back for my appointment with the young Dr. McDermott. There are now lawn chairs in the reception area. My ass is poking through one of them. Once again, he’s late, and he escorts his patient to the door before waving me in.
“Lawn chairs?”
“I know, I know. I don’t have the time to go out and get more.”
He settles in the chair by his messy desk. “Now, where were we?”
“You still don’t have a receptionist.”
“Again, a time issue.”
“What’s your first name?”
“Dexter. I know, I know, I got that look while being shoved into my locker at school.”
“Kids suck.”
“You’re right.”
“Do you mind if I call you Dexter? Every time I say Dr. McDermott I picture your uncle.”
“No problem. So, how was your week?”
“The same as any other.”
“Any more panic attacks?”
“I had one, but the smaller seismic ones that rumble all day under the surface are worse.”
“What caused the big one?”
“I went to a party with my cast.”
“You have a cast?”
“I was the producer of The Single Guy.”
Dexter sits back in his chair. “Wow. That got great reviews this week. My mother and sister watched it. They love the guy.”
“Austin. He thinks I’m rude and selfish.”
He scribbles something down on his pad. “You’re no longer the producer?”
I shake my head.
“What happened?”
I stand up. “Sorry, I have to go.”
He gets up too. “I wish all my patients were as speedy as you. Same time next week.”
I’m almost out the office door when I turn around. “How come you don’t mind if I go after five minutes?”
“I’m sure you have more important things to do.”
As I pass his reception area I turn around again. “I can buy you some chairs if you want and you can pay me back.”
“Fantastic! What a great idea.”
“What kind do you want?”
“Isn’t one chair as good as another?”
“Do you want comfortable, so that your
patients lounge here all day, or hard as a rock to move them along?”
“How about something in between?”
“How much do you want to spend?”
“My budget is very limited. I have a ton of student loans.”
“So does Austin.”
Ever since Austin told me I only care about people when I want something from them, I’m acutely aware of it. Like getting Aunt Ollie and Agatha to babysit, and now borrowing Gramps’s bigger car to haul chairs.
“I’ll drive,” Gramps says. “Effie won’t mind a little detour. That way you don’t have to carry them yourself.”
“Thanks, Gramps.”
Off we go to get Effie. “So you’re back to dating Effie?”
“I have my gals on rotation. They all know about each other. They live in the same senior citizen’s facility.” He starts whistling.
“But doesn’t it bother them to share you like that?”
“No. They know there are plenty of other widows who’ll take their place. It’s all because you persuaded me to buy the new car. I have a new lease on life.”
“Aunt Ollie is enjoying her new friendship, even though Agatha’s a crackpot.”
“Now we have to work on you.” He looks directly at me.
We stop by Dexter’s office, and Gramps and I carry the chairs in. He’s in his office with the door closed, so I arrange the chairs in a waiting-room fashion and leave. It’ll be a surprise.
My lunch with Amanda is the next day, and I feel like I need a tiny pill to get through it. I don’t understand why, exactly, but I take it anyway.
The Partridge boys are beyond busy today. J. J. and Callum are running after each other brandishing all manner of rubber toys like they’re weapons. It’s difficult to talk at the kitchen table with all the noise. Amanda might be acclimatized, but I’m in hell.
Eventually Jason comes home and lassoes them, taking them upstairs for a nap. They’re both crying as they go, but scarcely two minutes later, all is quiet.
“Jason lets them lie on our bed and he has a nap with them. It’s the best part of the day.”
She takes my plate. “Would you like a cup of coffee? I finally got a new coffeemaker for Christmas, like the one at the office. It only takes a minute.”
“Sure.”