by Lesley Crewe
“I don’t want to be famous. Send in my next patient.”
Amanda and I meet for lunch at a diner close to her office because the CBC building doesn’t cause me heartburn anymore. It’s just a building, with good people in it, like Amanda. When I tell her what happened, she nods and grunts as she devours a smoked meat on rye. “Do you want my pickle?”
“No, I want your advice. Dexter tells me to relax and everything will work out.”
“He’s a guy. They have no idea of the complexity that rules the female psyche.”
“So what should I do?”
“First, you call up Austin and tell him not to worry about the other night. You totally understand and you weren’t ready anyway on account of Norton, etc. That puts him at ease. Enough so that he figures it might be okay if you meet for coffee. He asks you but you can’t make it. You suggest an alternate time—that way he knows that you’re interested but not chasing him. You go on the coffee date, you give him a peck on the cheek goodbye and say you should get together sometime, but you’re vague about it. So now he’s uneasy that he might be blowing it, so he’ll do something more romantic and you make sure you’re ready for whatever it is and then you pin him to the mat…literally. After that he’s yours. It’s easy.”
“It doesn’t sound easy. Is that how you snagged Jason?”
“No, I got knocked up.”
I’m riding the bus home when two elderly women get on, so I stand up and give one of them my seat. I tap the shoulder of the young guy next to me who’s plugged into his phone. He takes out one earplug.
“Do you see this lovely lady here? She could be your grandmother. It would be kind if you gave her your seat.”
The kid looks around and sees that other passengers are watching this exchange, so he gets up and stands beside me. The lady smiles at both of us and sits down. That’s the moment I remember I drove downtown. Good grief.
I get off at the next stop and go across the street to catch a bus back when I see the earphone kid running after me. Oh shit, this is how I die. At least my bedroom is nice. I turn to face him and he’s coming right at me…with my purse.
“You left this on the seat,” he pants.
“Oh, thank you. Here, let me give you a reward.”
“No thanks, ma’am. My grandmother wouldn’t approve.” He gives me a wave and leaves.
Did he just call me ma’am?
That night I call Austin. I know what I’m going to say— but he doesn’t pick up the phone. Hmm. I text him. Don’t worry about the other night. I understand.
I try for three nights. Nothing. Finally, I phone his mother.
“Oh dear, I wondered if you’d call.”
“What’s going on? Is he okay?”
“He went to Uganda to see mountain gorillas.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
It’s almost May and my trauma aside, the weather is glorious. Tulips and daffodils are poking their heads out of the soil. Brilliant, light-green leaves unfurl on the trees. Spring is about renewal, and in spite of all my disasters, I’m feeling slightly more alive. Dexter attributes it to his meds, and I’m sure that’s part of it, but at some level deep inside I’m waking up out of a long slumber.
I spend all my free time getting rid of things I don’t need anymore. Peanut and Rosie have a marvellous time in the boxes and bags strewn all over the floor. Big lump Bobby lives with Gramps and doesn’t want any part of this place. Cleaning up the past is liberating. I empty my parents’ closets and throw most of their clothes away, but a few of the suits and coats are still in good shape so I bag those for Goodwill.
One Saturday morning I come across a small, wrapped package at the very back of Mom’s top drawer. It’s a gift addressed to me. The small card says For Chloe, on her sixteenth birthday. Mom and Dad. It’s a gold necklace with a simple gold cross attached to it. It’s delicate and beautiful. I put it on and it looks like it’s always belonged there. Having it with me gives me the strength to get rid of a lot of their belongings. I don’t have to be Miss Havisham anymore.
This spurs me on to bigger and better things. I call the 1-800-GOT-JUNK number and arrange for a massive purging. Gramps and Aunt Ollie are on the porch wringing their hands.
“What if you throw something away that was my mother’s?” Aunt Ollie says.
“You hated the old bat,” Gramps says.
“You hated my grandmother?!”
“Believe it or not, your mother and I liked this old fool much more than we liked her.”
The things you learn.
“You’re going to throw out all the furniture?” Gramps says. “Is that wise?”
“I’m keeping the good stuff, like Dad’s roll-top desk, Mom’s secretary desk, the old rocking chair, the antique bureau, and some lamp stands. The wingback chair is nice, too, once I cover it, and the settee. Everything else is revolting eighties junk.”
A hefty fellow comes out the door with the kitchen table over his head.
“You’re not throwing that away, are you?” Aunt Ollie tsks.
“Watch me.” I wave at the table. “Bye-bye.”
Another truck pulls up to the sidewalk.
“That’s your truck.”
“What do you mean?”
“These nice men are going to take every scrap of rotting newsprint, magazines, and brochures in your house. I’m not letting them take anything else until we have a chance to go through it, but I have no intention of fixing up my house when you live in a firetrap next door. If you don’t comply, I’ll get the municipality involved. Do you understand?”
“Why would you get the municipality involved? What business is it of theirs?”
“You are becoming borderline hoarders.”
Gramps waves me away. “You watch too much television.”
“And you two are plain lazy. This has been going on long enough. It’s time to smarten up.”
“Let me go get Bobby. The stupid bastards might take him!”
It takes hours, but eventually both trucks lumber away. In my house there’s an echo, with Peanut and Rosie running from room to room with glee. The occupants next door are in shock. The place looks five times bigger.
“I’m not sure I like this.” Gramps holds Bobby while they check out each room.
“I’m hiring a cleaning company to come in here and scour the place. It will look much better then.”
Aunt Ollie comes out of her bedroom holding an iron. “I’ve been looking for this for years.”
Now that I’ve cleaned all my wooden floors thoroughly, my new steam mop keeps them shining. Rosemary and Peanut are delighted with the slippery surface. All I need now is some furniture. My new kitchen table is coming today, which will be a godsend since I’m getting better at cooking meals for myself and freezing them. Nothing fancy, but at least they’re vegetarian and wholesome.
The doorbell rings. “There’s the table, girls!” Peanut and Rosie run down the hall ahead of me and then dart up the stairs. When I open the door, I am certainly not expecting to see Austin.
He’s put on some weight, he’s tanned and looks relaxed, his hair is longer with blonde streaks—from the African sun, I imagine.
“Hey, Chloe.”
“Hi, stranger. How was Uganda?”
“The most amazing experience of my life.”
Oh good, and I was over seventeen thousand kilometres away when it happened.
“May I come in? I brought you some presents.”
“By all means. You’ll have to sit on the floor.”
The girls come streaking down the stairs and zoom around the living room before heading out again.
“They look wonderful.”
“Mm.”
We sit and he opens his backpack. “I have two gorgeous baskets. I thought you’d like them, and some woven red fabric from a s
mall village, and a soapstone bracelet.”
“Well, thank you so much.” He hands them over and smiles. I want to smash his teeth in.
“You’re welcome. A lot has happened while I was away. Someone stole your furniture.”
“I’m getting rid of all the garbage in my life. I’m sure you know how that feels.”
That hesitant look I know so well comes over his face. Stay calm.
“And the mountain gorillas, were they glorious?”
“I cried when I saw them. They were magnificent, a dream come true.”
“That’s wonderful, Austin. I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks.”
We sit and look at each other. I don’t feel the need to say anything else.
“I’ve thought a lot about you while I was away.”
“That’s nice.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before I left. It was a crazy, last-minute decision, and I was on the plane before I realized what I was doing.”
I nod and smile.
“I felt like I was choking.”
“Right.”
“The show did my head in.”
“I can imagine.”
“I just needed to breathe.”
“Don’t we all.”
He gives me that piercing Hawke-eye thing he does so well. “Will you knock it off? I’m trying to be serious.”
I leap to my feet. “Thank you very much for the gifts, Austin. They’re lovely and I am grateful. But you need to leave now.” I walk to the front door.
He comes behind me. “I understand why you’re upset. I should have handled it differently. But I think both of us needed some time to ourselves.”
“You are so right, Austin. That’s definitely what I need, more alone time. Say hi to your mom.”
He shoots me a dirty look and I smile.
“Bye-bye!”
When I close the door I race to the kitchen and take a spatula and hit the wall about a dozen times. Aunt Ollie’s muffled voice shouts, “Give it a rest!” So I run upstairs and beat the shit out of my duvet. Then I call Amanda.
“That miserable rat had the nerve to say that we needed time apart. He had the most amazing experience of his life while I was on my knees scrubbing floors like Cinderella.”
“So you didn’t let him say anything else?”
“Like what?”
“How he wants to proceed?”
“He can’t proceed! I never want to see him again!”
“You’ll change your mind.”
“Amanda, I mean this in the nicest way, but fuck right off. Love you.” Click.
Austin’s baskets end up being new beds for the girls, the fabric is draped over my rocking chair, and the bracelet I’ll wear because it’s nice. Why should I suffer?
A few weeks roll by and I am suffering. All I can think about is Austin, which ticks me off because I don’t want to be thinking about him. It gets so bad I take Peanut to his office for an appointment. There’s not a thing wrong with her. When I get there Austin is out on an emergency call, so I slink home. He’s doing good works. I’m flipping out at Dexter’s patients.
“For the third time, Mrs. O’Neill, Dr. McDermott cannot make a house call.”
“I want him to.”
I’ve been on here for five minutes trying to get through to her. “I’ll tell him you called and he’ll call you back.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“It’s not good enough. He needs to come here.”
“Sorry.” I hang up the phone.
She calls back. I assume it’s her, but I’m not picking up to find out. It rings ten times and finally Dexter comes out of his office. “Everything all right?”
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“My office.”
We sit in his office. “You can’t do what anymore?”
“Work for you. You’ll have to find someone else. I’m sorry, Dexter; I’m not suited for this job.”
He nods his head. “I know. I’ve often wondered why you stayed so long.”
“Because you were so nice to me. You’d forget I had an appointment or be cool with the fact that I’d run out ten minutes into a session. You cared and didn’t rush me. I noticed even if I pretended not to.”
He smiles. “What will you do?”
“I don’t have a clue.”
It’s the middle of June when I finally finish working for Dexter. It took him that long to find someone. I’m not surprised; look how long it took him to get chairs. The woman is an efficient, middle-aged sort who knows way more than I ever did. Dexter hugs me goodbye and says he’ll see me for my appointment in three months. I weep all the way home in the car. I wanted to move on, it was my decision, but what little psychotherapy I’ve had tells me that I will always have a hard time with change. I’m like the three-year-old in the sandbox who grabs all the toys and won’t share with anyone. It’s scary to acknowledge I can be a shit like everyone else and scarier still to know I’m capable of doing ridiculous things like call up Steve and ask him to take me to Jamaica.
“You want to go to Jamaica in June? You’ll melt.”
“Okay, smartass, then where?”
“Las Vegas?”
“How about New York? It’s closer.”
“When do we leave?”
“This isn’t what you think. I’m not interested in sleeping with you. I just need to get out of here and you’re the only one I know who is irresponsible enough to drop everything and go.”
“Spoken like the Chloe I know and love.”
“No loving. Just eating.”
“Just eating.”
I pack my bags and tell Gramps and Aunt Ollie I’m going to a spa and I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. They’re not fussed. They’re tired of seeing my gloomy face. Steve meets me at the Air Canada gate and tries to kiss me but I refuse, so he hugs me instead. We drink champagne on the flight, go to our boutique hotel room on 45th St., and don’t leave the room for five days.
If I spent any time thinking about this situation I’d be mortified, but fortunately my brain is on hiatus. I’m drugging myself silly with fattening food, bottles of wine, sex, and cartoons. We’re even raiding the mini-bar, which I’ll regret later, but what the heck.
Steve is so laid-back he’s a bed. He suggests we go to a spa for a couple’s massage.
“Ugh, creepy.”
“Have you ever had a massage?”
“No.”
“Then be quiet. You can hate it after you’ve had one.”
So we end up in this very warm room on massage tables parked right next to each other. There are jungle noises coming out of a stereo somewhere in here. I’m already freaked out by the fact that I’m naked under this robe.
“I have to lie down with nothing on?”
“No, they’ll cover your pretty little ass with a sheet.”
I’m lying here trying to relax but not having much luck. My face is looking at the floor through the headrest attached to the table. I suppose I knew someone would have to put their hands on me, but I glossed over that part.
“Just breathe,” Steve mumbles. He sounds like he’s almost asleep and it hasn’t even begun.
The door opens and I see four feet, two for me and two for Steve. My God, one of these Swedish ladies has huge feet. Mine puts a tissue with lavender scent by my head with her hairy knuckles. Hairy knuckles? My head pops up. There’s a man standing over me.
“Umm, Steve…Steve…”
“Mmmm?” He’s already enjoying the pretty girl rubbing his back.
“Look at me!”
He opens one eye. I mouth, “Mine’s a guy!”
“For the love of God, Chloe, live a little.”
Easy for him to say
, he’s got people running their fingers over him twenty-four seven. I put my face back in the hole and gag. “I’m sorry, I can’t stand this smell.”
“Perhaps you’d prefer peppermint?” the jolly green giant says.
“What exactly is this for?”
“So your nose doesn’t get stuffed up,” Steve says. “Let the man do his job.”
Peppermint isn’t much better, but I put up with it. This guy’s hands are the size of a phone book. He could clearly break me in half if he wanted to, so that’s all I think about. When he puts his hands up near my neck, I freeze. “Don’t.”
“Madam?”
“Don’t touch my neck.”
Steve sighs heavily, a cue for me to stop being a party pooper. I shout at the floor I’m staring at. “If I don’t want him to touch my neck, that’s for me to decide, Steve, not you.”
“Are you on your honeymoon?” the pretty girl asks.
“No, thank God,” we say in unison.
The giant changes strategies and proceeds to put hot rocks on my back.
“Is this really necessary?”
“It will soothe you.”
“No, it won’t.”
There’s a bit of a commotion and Steve’s feet appear under the table. “I’d rather be stuck in rush-hour traffic than go through this. We’re leaving.”
I bolt upright and the rocks fall off my back and onto Steve’s toes.
“Sorry,” I say over Steve’s screams.
Steve hobbles back to our room, refusing my offer to assist him. He lowers himself onto the bed and covers his eyes with his arm.
I sit on the edge of the mattress. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
He lowers his arm and shakes his head. “You are incapable of letting yourself go.”
“I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
Steve reaches out and takes my hand. “You’re only here because you have nowhere else to go. I know that. I can see now that you and I are only destined to be friends, because if we were a couple I’d have to kill you.”
“I’d kill you first.”
“I have a great idea. Why don’t we go see New York?”
We roam the city for a week and see the sights. We browse museums, art galleries, and luxury stores. We have dinner every night after the Broadway shows. We really do have a very nice time, but now we go to sleep on either side of the king-sized bed.