“It’s basically a bribe, so you can have it.” I sat down in my chair, pulling out the red velvet cupcake, and took a bite.
“Where’d you get a red velvet cupcake? I want one.”
“It’s supposed to give me superpowers,” I licked the icing off of my finger. “I’m a magician now, haven’t you heard?”
He laughed, “What kind of powers?”
I thought for a moment, “The power to change the direction my life is going.”
“Well, that’s pretty deep.”
I laughed, “I’m a deep soul.” It was a joke, but part of me wished it were true.
*
I lingered on the wine aisle contemplating on red or white wine. It really depended on the mood I wanted to be in. Red is cozy, white is flirty. To be honest, I was ordering take out and having a tv marathon...so red it is. My Uber dropped me off at home, giving me a chipper goodbye; in the blink of an eye he sped off.
As I entered my empty townhouse, I placed my order for takeout and changed into my comfiest pjs. By the time I was done folding the laundry that I had in the dryer, my food arrived. I turned on a TV show that I’ve seen a thousand times, popped open the bottle of red, and downed my food like it was a food eating competition. Was I emotional eating from my breakup? Probably. I took a sip of my wine, and decided to take a bath.
While the water filled the tub, my friends texted me at least 30 times trying to convince me to come out. I promised them that I would tomorrow with stilettos on. Tonight I needed to soak away my sadness with a bath bomb and a bottle of wine.
The water was piping hot, and the bubbles almost overflowed the tub. I took a huge gulp of wine, and sank under the water. There I was, floating in my tub, listening to the muffled sound of the music through the water. It felt euphoric, almost numb; somewhere between the two. This is my life; my boring fucking life. I turn 30 next year. What do I have to show for it?
I emerged from the water gasping for air. The music filled my ears again. What the hell was I doing? What the hell was I doing with my life? I grabbed my towel to dry off, and changed into leggings and a tee. I was about to be initiated into Marge’s secret society. On my way out the door I grabbed the bottle of wine. You know it might be fun to be part of a secret society. Maybe it’s about aliens? Aliens are cool, right?
I had instant regret from not wearing shoes; the grass was wet and cold. Marge’s friends had already arrived. Her front porch light was on. What if she changed her mind? As I was standing in front of her door, it swung open. A bald man was staring at me. Neither one of us said anything for a good amount of time, my stomach started to feel uneasy, until I heard Marge yell to come in.
“Marty, don’t frighten the poor girl!” Marge yelled.
“Just seeing how tough she was, that’s all.” He laughed, shrugging his shoulders.
I followed Marty into the living room where Marge, another woman, and man were seated. Three bottles of wine were settled on the coffee table. All the years that I have lived next to Marge I had never set foot in her home. It was decorated so elegantly; something straight from the Victorian era.
“Your place is lovely.” I said, still clutching my wine bottle.
She smiled, “That’s sweet of you. Sit down. I’ll get you a glass; unless you prefer the bottle?” She raised her eyebrow.
I laughed awkwardly looking down at the open bottle in my hand, “Oh um, a glass would be nice.”
“Sit sit.” She waved at me, as she got up to go to the kitchen.
I sat down on an accent chair, next to Marty. “Hi.” I chirped.
“Everyone this is Alayna, she’s my neighbor.” Marge said, handing me an empty glass.
“Thank you.” I smiled.
“You met Marty.” She sat back down. “This is Olive and Ted.” They both reached their hands out to shake mine. I obliged with a smile, as I shook their hands.
“So, what is it that you do here every week?” I asked, clutching my glass. Did I want to know what I had just gotten myself into? Yes. Was I going to run for the hills if they turned into scary people from my nightmares? Double yes.
Marty picked up his glass, “We plot things.”
I gave him a strange look, “What kind of things?”
Marge laughed, “We plan adventures. Don’t let Marty worry you.” She waved her hand towards him, “You need to stop freaking her out.”
He shrugged his shoulders, “I’m not. Just trying to make her less tense.”
I smiled awkwardly, “I’m not tense.”
He leaned forward, “You are though. Your posture is so rigid.”
Olive stood to pour more wine, “Marty is a physical therapist. He’s doctoring you right now. Ignore him.”
I wanted to change the subject from my rigid body, “You said you plot adventures?” I asked Marge.
She smiled warmly, “We do. We try to plan a big trip every year.”
“What is your trip this year?”
“The Grand Canyon.” Olive replied.
I leaned back into the chair, “That sounds amazing. I’ve never gone on a trip like that.”
“You should come with us.” She smiled.
I shook my head, “I don’t think I can.”
Marge leaned in, “Why?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I have work.”
“Do you think your work will be at your funeral?” Marty asked. I was surprised by his question. He patted my arm as he leaned in for a piece of cheese, “The world won’t wait for you my dear. It’ll keep spinning while you sit in that grey office of yours.”
I stared at him while his words sank in.
Olive laughed, “Marty also thinks that he is a therapist of the mind, not just the body.”
He shot her a look, “She came over here for a reason.” He looked back at me, “So, what’s the reason? You arrived barefooted, wet hair, with an open bottle of wine. You are clearly going through something. Because, in all the years we have met at Marge’s, you have not once stepped foot in this house.”
My mouth went dry. I felt like I was getting interrogated, but everything he was saying was ringing in my ears like he could read my mind. I cleared my throat, “My boyfriend of four years broke up with me yesterday after I caught him in bed with another girl. Today is my 29th Birthday. I’ve accomplished nothing. I’m turning thirty next year, I’m not married, I don’t have kids. I don’t even know who I am right now. Basically, my life is a shit show.” When I stopped talking I realized that I word-vomited. I couldn’t stop myself. I just listed everything that was wrong with me.
“Who made those rules?” Marge squinted her eyes at me. “Who in the hell said you have to be married, have kids, own a home by thirty?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged my shoulders.
“That’s the point. No one gets to tell you what your timeline is. Just because that’s the way it has always been, doesn’t mean it’s the way it should always be. If we all lived life like that, then we wouldn’t have progress. You don’t have to follow the pattern just because the world tells you to.”
I took a sip of wine. This was a lot heavier conversation than I thought that I was going to get. I was ready for Alien talk. Alien talk is easy; I’ve seen the movies. But, talking about life, that shit is hard.
Olive sat forward, “We’re freaking her out. She’s gone comatose.”
“No.” I laughed. “The exact opposite. It’s just a lot to process.”
Marge took my loose hand, “You don’t have it all figured out today. Today is your Birthday. You should go out with your friends tomorrow. Celebrate life.”
I sighed, “I should. Shouldn’t I?”
Marty raised his glass, “To life.”
I laughed, and we all raised our glasses, clinging them together.
*
That night I laid in bed staring at the ceiling. I kept going over everything they said during my initiation into the non monkey brain eating club. I have spent my entire life tryin
g to do the right thing. I have this issue of needing to be the best at everything. I strived to be the perfect girlfriend. I spent four years in the same relationship, and he left me anyway.
I couldn’t get this vision of James and that girl out of my head. I wanted to throw up just thinking about it. James was never horrible to me, up until now. I guess I always felt some sort of disconnect, but I just chalked it up to two people having different interests. Part of me missed him. Maybe, it was a part of familiarity. Tears escaped onto my pillow. I let out a loud sigh. Why do I feel like this? A frog in my throat had formed, my heart started hurting again. I curled up on my side, as a small whimpering cry left my mouth.
Chapter Two
The next morning I forced myself out of bed. I stared at my reflection again as I brushed my teeth. I was still in the break up funk. I was determined to get out of it. I spit out my toothpaste.
“Alexa, play Lizzo.” I called out.
“Juice by Lizzo.” Alexa replied.
“Alexa, max volume.” I wiped my mouth with a towel.
The song rose to max volume, and filled my small townhome. I started singing along to every word, dancing around in my underwear. If I’m going to be in a funk, I might as well dance it out. I started making breakfast, using the spatula as a microphone. My phone vibrated, and I slid across the kitchen to pick it up. It was my group chat with Camille and Taylor.
Camille: You ready for tonight?
Taylor: Stilettos kind of night. Right, Layna?
I sighed, debating on telling them about James. I knew once I did, the sympathy would roll in and I didn’t want that, but I couldn’t lie to them either.
Me: James broke up with me.
Taylor: WHAT?! That prick. What was his reason?
Me: He needed to be “single for a while”. Brace yourselves, there’s more.
Camille: Omg what?
Me: I caught him in bed with a random girl.
Camille: WTF!!! Screw him.
Taylor: It’s a whiskey kind of night
Camille: Hell yeah it is. Wear that red dress with the low v neck.
Me: You do remember the nip slip of new years eve right?
Camille: Haha yeah it was great.
Taylor: Just get better titty tape. You’ll be ok.
Me: Thanks for your words of encouragement, Tay.
Camille: Picking you up at 9!
I set my phone down, and flipped my pancake. Maybe everyone is right. I should go out tonight and enjoy myself. Celebrate life as they said. I blew out my cheeks, I’ll get through this. I have to get through this.
I sat down on a barstool in my kitchen. My pancakes were staring up at me. I quickly realized I didn’t even have an appetite. I was forcing myself to feel better, but it wasn’t working so much. I pulled my legs up to my chest, and sipped on my orange juice. “This needs champagne”, I looked at the glass. I put my chin on my knees. My life needs champagne.
*
It was 8:30PM. My hair was curled, my makeup done, and the red dress was glaring at me from my closet. “What are you looking at?” I snapped. It obviously didn’t respond. A knock on my door made me jump. I walked into my living room; I could already hear Camille and Taylor on the other side of the door giggling.
I opened the door, “You two are so loud.”
Camille’s face dropped, “You’re not even dressed!” She swatted Taylor, “Tay, she’s not even dressed.”
Taylor giggled, “I see that.”
I rolled my eyes, “Will you come inside before my neighbors call the cops on two loud bimbos.”
Camille huffed, “Touchy touchy.”
Camille and Taylor settled themselves on my bed, as I continued to scan through my closet.
“The red one.” Taylor laughed out. “We told you the red one.”
I spun around, “Why are you two so giggly?”
Camille smirked, “Spencer Calloway is going to be there tonight.”
I gave them a confused look, “Who?”
“He’s this guy I met through my father’s firm. He’s here on business. He’s 35, a lawyer, and so delicious.” Taylor took a sip of her wine.
I laughed, “Good for you.”
“No, for you.” She raised her glass toward me. “You know my heart is taken by Zach.”
I turned back toward my closet, “You and Zach have been doing the tango long enough to be married by now, but you still don’t have a title.”
Camille jumped up, “We’re not here to talk about Tay’s tango.” She plucked the red dress from my closet. “Put this on. Spencer Calloway is waiting.”
The dress still fit perfectly. I added extra boob tape to secure the girls in tightly. I fluffed my curled hair a few times, and then took a sip of my wine. Oy vey I forgot how low this neck line goes. I walked into my bedroom. Taylor and Camille were lost in another giggling conversation. These two were on another level tonight.
Camille looked up, “You’re getting laid tonight in that dress.”
“No. These legs are staying closed.” I shot her a look.
Taylor laughed, “You say that until you meet Spencer. He doesn’t even live here; it’ll be like it didn’t happen.”
I rolled my eyes, “That’s not how that works. At all. I literally just got dumped two days ago.”
Camille slid off my bed, “Put your shoes on. I’m ready to dance, and you're annoying. The Uber is almost here.”
I picked up my strappy heels. “You two are going to drive me insane.”
*
When we got to the club it had a line wrapped around the building. We started making our way up toward the end of the line, but Taylor grabbed both of our hands toward the front doors.
“What are you doing?” Camille asked, surprised.
Taylor smirked, “After Layna told us about loser James, I made a few calls.”
I eyed Taylor, “What kind of calls?”
Taylor huffed, “Normal ones. Calm down.” She let go of our hands when we stopped in front of the bouncer.
He looked her up and down with an eyebrow raised. “Name?”
“Taylor Garrison.”
“Are these your two guests?” He pointed to Camille and I with his pen.
“Yep.” She smiled.
He removed the barrier and let us through. Camille and I shot each other a look as we tried to stifle our laughter. “Who are you, and what have you done to Taylor Garrison?” Camille asked her.
She glanced back at us, letting out a small laugh.
The music got louder when we entered the dark club. There were two bars on either side of the room illuminated by blue lights. The large dance floor in the middle was filled with people.
I linked my arm with Taylor’s, “How did you pull that one off?”
She laughed, “I know people.”
“You know all the same people we do.” Camille said, as she glided toward the bar to the left.
“Spencer put us on his list. He has a VIP table.” Taylor shot back at her.
Camille looked back, “Oh you’re a sly one.”
I squeezed her arm, “What are you up to? I’ve already told you…”
“Well hello, Spencer!” Taylor let go of my arm.
My stomach dropped. My eyes shot to the man standing in front of us. He towered over us; dressed in blue dress pants and a white button down shirt. He had neatly styled dark hair, and his hands were in his pockets; he was in mid conversation with two other men. Holy crap he was hot.
“Good to see you, Taylor.” He smiled. Oh crap, oh crap. Why was I internally freaking out? That smile was making me want to know what his mouth does.
She jerked me forward, “This is my friend Alayna.”
“Hi.” It was all I could spit out at the moment.
He held his hand out, “Hello, Alayna.” He purred. I felt my body warm from his voice. I don’t know if he meant to say my name with that much smoothness, but holy crap I need to abort this conversation quickly.
“Tay
, do you want to go get a drink?” I asked, trying to get away as quickly as possible.
“Sure. It looks like Cam has already found hers.” She pointed to the bar. “We’ll be right back.” She told Spencer.
We started for the bar. As handsome as Spencer is, my mind went back to James, wondering what he was doing. Once we were out of ear shot I shot Taylor a look, “Spencer is very handsome.”
“I told you.” She said excitedly. “I’m the perfect match maker.”
I sighed as we approached the bar, “I don’t think it’s the right time for a Spencer Calloway to enter my life.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile, “Just talk to him. Get your mind off of evil spawn.”
I giggled. Evil spawn is the name we give all of our ex boyfriends; we don’t speak their names once they decide to kick rocks.
“I need a Moscow Mule to get through this night.” I was determined to have a good night and celebrate life as Marge put it. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Good.” Taylor smiled, and waved for the bartender.
Camille joined us as we found our way back to Spencer and his friends. I wondered who they were since he apparently didn’t live here. They were seated in a leather roped off section that overlooked the dance floor. The men smiled as we approached.
Taylor conveniently planted herself between Spencer’s two friends. Camille and I sat across from them, with Spencer straight in front of me. I glanced up at him; his eyes were on me as he took a sip of his drink. My insides clenched as if responding to his gaze. It was clear my body wanted him.
We talked for a while, learning that they were here on business for the week like Taylor had said. We had taken shots that Camille insisted on, then another round of drinks. Clearly everyone was trying to unwind tonight.
While everyone was lost in conversation, I picked up my drink scanning the room. Spencer was nice enough. We haven’t spoken directly, but he and his friends were good company; a good distraction. I almost choked on my drink when my eyes landed on the one person I did not want to see leaning into a tall blonde. James. I grabbed Camille’s leg as discreetly as I could.
“What?” She whispered in my ear.
“Across the dance floor near the tables to the left.” I said into my drink.
Under the Oak Tree Page 30