Sack Time

by A. M. Willard

  “What do you want to watch? I’m not big on anything, so you pick,” she says while handing me the remote. I’m not sure what’s on, but would like the background noise to try to drown out the silence. I flip the guide on and come across some travel show that I think will suffice for the both of us. Setting the remote down between us, I turn toward Sherry and prop my arm up on the back of the cushion.

  “Real estate, huh?”

  “What?”

  “Okay, apparently the drugs are kicking in… Let’s try this again, so, you’re in real estate?”

  “I am now.” Her voice is laced with embarrassment as if she’s ashamed of this profession, and it causes me to want to dig more into why.

  “You don’t sound so happy with this choice? Do you not like it?”

  “It’s not what I went to school for, but it’ll allow me to have a job and a good paying one, one day.

  “What did you go to school for?”

  “To become a registered nurse.” She says this as if they are the same thing. Selling houses and sticking an IV into someone’s arm is ranked in the same profession.

  “Why don’t you do it then?” I ask as if it’s the simplest question. Kind of like why drink a beer when you really want a rum and coke. Sherry re-positions herself so she’s facing me. “Have you met me? I’m a walking disaster.”

  “Oh, I’m aware of this, but seriously—why?”

  “Failed my national exam and walked away from it all.”

  “How did you fail? I have a hard time believing this story.”

  ‘Simple, I fell asleep and since I have a habit of doing that I walked away from it. At least now I stay busy, and when I feel like I might slip into a coma, I walk around or take a walk outside. June, my boss, is helping me study for my exam, and I just hope I can keep my eyes open.”

  “Have you been to see a doctor about this? There has to be something they can do. I know plenty of people who have the same disorder as you, and they manage.”

  Sherry’s head tilts to one side, her lips pursing as she studies me. I’m not sure which part of my statement she’s confused by, but she’s examining me like she’s trying to gauge what my response will be when she answers. Just as I’m about to ask again, a knock from the other side of the door startles us both.

  “I got it,” she says, jumping up from the sofa and almost tripping on her own two feet. Over the past few days, I’ve noticed that she’s not as clumsy as most people would think. It’s the fact that whatever she’s taking, or not taking, is causing her body to sleepwalk. There have been times that I’ve caught quick glances of her and take in how she seems to be asleep but upright. Not to mention, the type of reaction she had today is something that needs to go down in the books. In the past four years of residency, I don’t think I’ve witnessed this type of magnitude. The weirder thing is neither her nor Ava seem to take caution with it. I must’ve gone through her file a hundred times, searching for what could cause this only to come up empty. It’s not mandatory that you tell your GYN everything, but if you’re on certain medication it should be noted in the file. Even if she’d told my father what she takes, I could research it.

  Sherry drops the pizza box on the coffee table, bringing me out of my fog. “Want something to drink? I know it’s my turn to ask you?”

  “Sure, but sit and let me get it for us,” I say as I stand. When my body rises, I notice how close we are. I linger for a few seconds longer than I should. Breaking away, I head to the kitchen and find us both a bottle of water. I’d kill for a beer, but don’t want to head upstairs to retrieve one. Coming around the corner, I notice that Sherry is sitting Indian style on the sofa, shoving a slice of pizza in her mouth. I’m pretty sure I might have heard a whimper, but I can’t be for certain. I shimmy my hips a little, adjusting myself before I sit. Seems that I’m not the only one who heard that whimper.

  “This was a great idea.” Her voice is muffled from the pizza she’s still chewing.

  “Glad you approve,” I respond as I grab a slice and sit back to admire her from afar.

  We sit in silence, enjoying a slice of heaven. I’ve never seen a woman eat as many slices as Sherry just did. I ordered the extra-large size, thinking I would have some leftover for later…Nope … It’s all gone as we both sit back and let out a full gulp of air. “I’d say someone was hungry?”

  “I love pizza … Carbs are my weakness,” she states as she stretches her arms above her head to stretch.

  “Yes, but not many ladies will eat like you just did in front of a guy.”

  “Good thing I’m not your typical lady, because I love food.”

  “Good thing indeed,” I say softly, hoping that it was low enough for only my ears to hear. Sherry doesn’t respond, but that doesn’t mean anything. I hear the mid-tone yawn come from her direction. Instantly, I slide the blanket off the back of the sofa and pat the cushion next to me.

  “I’m good here, but we can share the blanket if you’re cold?”

  “Nope, I’m good,” I say with a little disappointment in my voice.

  I try to focus on the TV, but every now and then I cut my eyes toward her. She’s curled up, leaning into the arm of the sofa with the blanket pulled up to her chin. Her eyes fall then open back as soon as she notices them shutting. “Get some rest,” I say as I lift my legs up to the table, folding my hands in my lap to make myself comfortable. Before long I hear soft snores and purrs coming from her direction. I look over and notice how peaceful she looks like this, minus the blotchy skin that seems to be taking its time to clear. It appears that two of her cats have found their way to her. One in her lap, and one right behind her head. Sitting here with her, I’m content. Almost as if this is where I should be every night—sitting here with the hot mess next to me.

  Sherry

  My eyes open, allowing me to take in where I am. When I notice I’m curled into the couch’s arm, I now know why my body hurts. Tossing the blanket off me, I try to remember why I’m here and not in my bed. A flash from yesterday and last night come back to me… I can’t help but shake my head, because this is the perfect example of why I don’t have a boyfriend. I couldn’t even make it through last before I crashed on Greyson. Not to mention, I might have overeaten my weight in pizza. That flashes back to me now too, as I stare at the empty box on the table. It’s not like anything will ever come of the two of us—well, maybe a friendship, but that’s all. Greyson Davis is so far out of my league that it would never work. Also, now that I think about it, I wonder what he thinks is wrong with me. He was asking questions last night, and I never answered him. I push it down, standing to look around the apartment. Glancing down, I notice the note resting on the box.

  Sherry,

  Sorry, I didn’t wake you, but you were out cold… When I say cold, I mean you wouldn’t budge. Had an early appointment today, but if you need anything call the office or my cell. Please don’t walk to work this morning—

  drive, take a taxi, or a bus.

  G

  I can’t help but let out a laugh at the whole don’t walk to work sentence. He has no idea, and this just might be fun. I toss the letter back down to the table and take off toward my bathroom. I need to get ready for the day and examine the damage of my reaction. Last time I experienced one like that it took a few days for all the swelling and red spots to expire. Brushing my teeth, I open the medicine cabinet and find my mini black case that holds the last of my birth control. Letting out a sigh, I make a mental note that I have got to find a new doctor.

  Dressed, I drop some food and water in the cat bowls on the kitchen floor and make my way out of the apartment. I slow for a moment as I think about driving to work this morning. My white four-door Jeep sits in the garage untouched for longer than it should. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, I turn and head toward my parking space in the covered concrete block of a garage we have here. Jumping in, I snuggle down into the neoprene seat covers and crank her to life. I can’t remember the last time I
drove anywhere, and wonder if I’ve forgotten how. As soon as I throw the gearshift in reverse it all comes back to me. To make sure I don’t fall asleep, I roll the windows down and crank up the music. Before pulling out onto the highway, I pull up the map app on my phone. I just want to make sure there aren’t any accidents this morning that would cause me to sit longer than a few seconds at a light. The real worry will be when I head home tonight after work. It’s my late evening. The sun will be setting, and that’s a whole different situation. If I feel too tired, I’ll leave the Jeep at work and walk home with the other roaming citizens of the city.

  Right as I enter the office, I take in the way June is pacing back and forth in her office, throwing up her hands like she’s having a heated conversation with someone that’s attached to her Bluetooth. I look over at Luke with questioning eyes, and in return, all he can do is shake his head. Some help he is… Plopping down in my chair behind my desk, I turn everything on and pray that today is not the day June finally loses her cool. She’s a ticking time bomb that can scare the living daylights out of most of us. Especially when a deal goes south. Last year she lost a major contract with some wealthy CEO who was moving to South Beach. None of us are sure what went down, but it wasn’t pretty. I have my suspicion that she was trying to seal the deal in a less than ethic way. Shortly after that, I knew that one day I would have to make a choice on what was right and wrong. Back in my ethics class we heard all kinds of stories… Some funny. Some not so funny—like career ruining stories. Between the rumors of what June has done to become as successful as she has, and what I learned in school—it’s official—my feelings for the hot Dr. Greyson Davis have to disappear. Rules aren’t meant to be broken… They’re intended to protect all parties involved … To be the reason within … The things that keep us on a straight path in life and not meant to be used to veer away from reality.

  “Sherry, my office, now,” June yells from across the room. The shrill of her voice causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand. The closer I get to her office, I feel the sweaty palms coming.

  “You called, June?”

  “Sit, I need your help.”

  “Okay,” I say, sitting cautiously. My eyes follow her pacing back and forth, picking up momentum, taking in how she’s tapping her chin as if she’s thinking about something important. “June, what the hell,” I snap, because she’s driving me bat shit crazy at this point.

  “Sorry, yes … Okay, we have a problem. Well, I think a problem, but not sure yet. You remember that client I might have or might not have slept with? Well, he’s selling the place that he just bought and needs a Penthouse now. I have no idea, but what I do know is I need for you to handle this. You show the houses, and when it comes down to the paperwork, I’ll take care of it. Can you do this, Sherry? I mean… I know you can, but I need you to focus and not look like you do right now.” She pauses, waving her hands around at my face. I know I’m still spotty and weird looking, but Lord I can cover it better with makeup if need be. But the problem is I have to make sure I don’t have another reaction until he finds a place. I nod, and then it hits me…

  “You did sleep with him, didn’t you?”

  “That’s doesn’t matter at this moment. What is, however, is that I need you to find him a place. He said if we can find it, he’ll list the house with us also. This is huge, and we need to do this.”

  “We or you?”

  “We, of course.”

  “So, you’re saying that if I find him a place I’ll get commission and then a bonus from the other sell?”

  “I’ll have to figure all that out, but I’m sure I can do something for you.”

  “That’s not going to work. The way I see it, I get the commission on the sell; figure it out and then you come to me with a good number for the other. It’s that, or I’m not helping. Go get Frank or Miranda. At least they have their license and can get full commission. Oh, wait; that’s it… You want it all, and you know if they help they will demand that it’s all theirs,” I say as I sit back in the chair, folding my arms over my chest. I decide for good measure to cross my legs and my arms over my chest, sending her an aggressive glare. When she doesn’t deny or even flinch, I shrug it off and stand. “Look, June, I have work to do, and I don’t have time for this today. Think about it and get back to me, you know where I’ll be.”

  Just as my hand touches the doorknob, I hear the release of air from June behind me. “Fine, whatever. Just get this done, Sherry. Also, you need to schedule your exam. I emailed you the list of dates.” And just like that she sits behind her empire of a desk and focuses on her monitor. I turn back around, turning up my lips with a smile as I think I just won that one for the first time with her. She’s had me help before, but it wasn’t anything like this project. Quickly walking to my desk, I pull out my phone and send a text to Ava, explaining what just happened. Now the problem is to figure out a way to not have another reaction or anything else. That also means I need to hide from the handsome doctor who’s invading my thoughts and dreams. Getting mixed up in that kind of drama is something I need to avoid, especially now with this task at hand. That’s the last thing I need. I can just see it now, two scandals. One with the ethics board knocking on my door, asking if I’ve had sexual relations with one Dr. Greyson Davis Jr. The second getting fired for having a reaction in front of a buyer that June has had or might not have had sexual relations with. Either way, I need to focus. I need to study. I need to get my exam behind me and move forward with my life. My phone vibrates against the glass on my desk. The letters highlight an unknown number. I’m used to getting spam text, so I open and prepare to delete immediately. My eyes graze the bubble, and instantly I chew on the inside of my cheek.

  Unknown: Just checking to see if you are still alive and are doing better. Take a Benadryl today if you start to feel itchy. If you need any, walk over—we have a cabinet full.

  Me: Thanks for the concern, but I’m alive and well. Also, thank you for making sure I stayed alive last night, but I’ll no longer need your assistance in that matter. Have a great day, Dr. Davis.

  Satisfied with my response, I start responding to some emails. I need to get those out of the way so I can make a list of penthouses for Eric McBride. June might not have wanted to say his name out loud, but I knew who she was talking about. As I’m responding to more emails, my phone continues to vibrate. With each jolt, I ignore it more as I know it’s him. I’m not stupid, and I know this is the best thing to do. Plus, if it’s Ava or my mom, they will end up calling the office if I ignore my phone for too long. At my ripe age of twenty-five, I want to find something real. The kind of love that leaves you breathless from just one look, one touch, and one kiss. Yes, I’ll admit that Greyson leaves me that way when I look at him, and I got butterflies when he touched me, but I refuse to find out how that kiss will feel against my lips. It’s a no zone. Totally off limits. I refuse to allow a man whose father has had his hands in places that I’d like to forget about kiss my lips.

  Hours pass by, and an endless search for apartments with the best views from the top floor have left me starving. I glance around the office, noticing everyone is busy, and June is still pacing. This time her hands are waving around as she’s talking on her phone. I decide to lock my computer, grab my purse, and take off across the street to the small pizza deli to grab lunch. Waving at the owner behind the counter, I head over to a table by the window. I love to sit here, and people watch as I enjoy a slice of pepperoni and pineapple. I’ve been coming here for so long that I don’t even stand in line to order any more. They just bring me a slice along with a Coke. Smiling up at the new waitress who drops off my drink, I grab a napkin from the holder and place it in my lap. Opening my phone finally, I see the six alerts on my text and ignore them. Instead, of reading them, I open Facebook. Scrolling through to check on my friends and family, I hover over the one post that I wasn’t expecting to see. Chris, my ex-boyfriend of two years, shared a picture of him and his new g
irlfriend Rebecca. In all caps are the words ‘SHE SAID YES’. I lean back in the wooden chair and release a loud sigh. Okay, it’s been over eight months since we broke things off. Apparently, he didn’t like the way my life was going, nor did he like my mild obsession with rescuing cats. Which is whatever, but still eight months and he proposed?! We were together for two years! So what if it was a college love affair. I still had a heart, and he was the last serious boyfriend I had. Even today, I can look back and point out all the things that were wrong with us. I loved him. The problem is I’m not sure if I would’ve said yes if he had asked me to marry him. Chris was demanding. He wanted life to be a certain way. He expected his arm candy to be a certain way. Hence the reason we are no longer together. Red blotches, sneezing attacks, and a person who slept through her exam didn’t add up to his standard. The night I came home from a very long nap, I sat him down and explained to him what happened. I needed someone to comfort me, rub my back and tell me that I could do this again and that it wasn’t the end of life. Instead, he stood up and looked at me like I was some slum on the street corner. After breaking things off with me, he sauntered out the door and never looked back. His loss, because I have the chance to make more than he will being a male nurse. Which let me explain that Ava loved that he was a male nurse and not a doctor. She knew exactly how to get under his skin when he pissed her off.

  “I see your phone’s not broken, and you’re still alive,” the deep raspy voice booms in my direction. I don’t have to look up to know who it is. My body is already registering him from just the sound of his voice. Not looking up, I respond. “Yep, still alive.”

  “Is this seat taken?”

  “No, but you can’t sit with me,” I say, not making eye contact with him because if I stare up into those gray eyes, it’s over.

  “Why that’s a mighty fine way to treat the person who saved your life,” he states as he ignores me and pulls out the chair before sitting. Just as he sits, my pizza arrives. It’s then that I notice his plate matches mine. My shoulders deflate in defeat. What choice do I have now? I could make a scene and move, but then that’s rude, and since I was raised better than that, I ignore the internal voice telling me to run as fast as I can away from him.