Authors: Eileen Cook
“Maybe that’s what Jonathon’s wife’s best friend tells her. How he would never cheat on her. Don’t you feel remotely guilty that she’s out there somewhere having no idea what’s happening behind her back?”
My lunch rushed to my throat. I did feel guilty. Crushing puppies under my heels kind of guilty. Usually I managed to avoid thinking about it.
“Of course I feel bad. It’s a case of the both of us being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“You make it sound like an accident. Like you backed into her car.”
“So now you’re her best friend?”
“I’m your friend and as your friend, I am telling you it’s a bad idea.”
I pushed my plate of food away. Things had changed after Avita got married. It was like she crossed into a different world and I was stuck on the other side. It had only been a few years, but she had clearly forgotten what it was like to be single.
“Well, are you trying to tell me you think it’s a good idea? You get burned one too many times and so you decide to toss in the towel, take the easy route. Think about this,” Avita said.
“Avita, take this the nicest way, but you got married at twenty-five. That was the easy route. Dating after thirty is an entirely different game. You haven’t dated in years. You started dating Darsh when you were still in school. Your parents practically selected him for you when you were still in the crib. You have no idea what it’s like for me, or how I feel. I like Jonathon. I get that any relationship we have comes with boundaries. It isn’t perfect, I know that, but if he’s the right man for me, then should I really turn away from him now because he wasn’t divorced first?”
“Well, as long as it’s merely a matter of timing I guess there
’
s no harm done.” Avita made an elaborate shrugging motion.
“What do you want from me?” I asked, shoving the rest of my sushi off to the side of my plate.
“I want you to be happy. I want you to find someone and you’re not going to do that if you’re with him. You didn’t need Jonathon to get this job, but dating him is going to leave people thinking that’s exactly what happened.”
“Great, people think I’m sleeping my way to the top. Maybe later I can become a kitten genocide leader and really round out my résumé. Is it asking too much for my friends, the people I work with, to trust I know what I’m doing and try to be happy for me?”
“I can’t do that.”
Neither of us said anything. The waitress came by and topped up our drinks. She gave a tiny bow and wandered away. Avita fished through her Coach bag, her fingernails flashing. With her last manicure she had a crystal chip placed on the end of each of her hot-pink nails. She placed some money on the table.
“So you’re leaving.”
“Look, I like you. We’ve been friends a long time. I think you’re a really good on-air personality and a good person, but I think this decision with Jonathon is a bad one.”
“You think I should go out with Colin.”
“This isn’t about him, it’s about you. But if you’re asking, I think you could do a lot worse than Colin. He puts on an act, but under all of it he’s a good guy.”
“Whatever.”
“I’ll be your producer and I’ll make sure the show kicks ass. But one thing I won’t do is act like what you are doing is okay with me just so that you feel better about it.”
“I guess that leaves me alone.”
“I guess it does.” She slipped through the lunchtime crowd.
I didn’t go straight back to the office after lunch. I needed to engage in some retail therapy. Going shopping could be counted as semi-work related. Since Avita and Pam had arranged the TV interview I needed to find something to wear that made blended sexy and professional. It’s not easy to find the perfect fashion balance point between Megan Fox and Hilary Clinton.
I wandered down Pine Street. I mentally made a to-do list.
I needed to contact the vet and sort out what how I was going to pay for the world’s most expensive homeless dog.
I needed to sort out what was going on with Diana including why she thought she was Princess Diana.
I had to find a way to have Jonathon over where we didn’t end up interrupted by either the police taking him down or emergency vet runs.
I had to continue to block the image of waking up next to Colin out of my mind—because nothing happened.
I had to find a way to get my best friend to like me again.
And I needed to hit a slam-dunk at work thus ensuring a successful and long-lived career.
The thought of everything on my plate made me feel overwhelmed. I decided to block it all out and focus on shopping. I knew the point of the live feeds was to show the differences between Colin and me, but I wasn’t interested in making an ass out of myself in the process. I stopped in front of a sportswear store looking over the rainbow of Gortex, Lycra, and rain-repelling socks.
Maybe I should buy some hiking gear. It might be a case of looking the part being half the battle. Proper footwear can go a long way to building confidence.
Although I was sure Pam liked the idea of me teetering up the side of the mountain in a pair of kitten heels, function was more appealing than fashion.
I could feel the tension lessen as my wallet grew lighter. Whenever I started to pause, I reminded myself that a psychologist would cost me at least $125 an hour, so in fact, the retail therapy was on par. In fact, it was down right cost-efficient.
I stopped at Walgreens. The window display was a fake beach scene showing off various self-tanners buried in the sand. What I needed to get ready for the TV interview was a home spa day. I went in and grabbed a basket and started down the first aisle. By the time I got to the end, I knew I would need to exchange the basket for a cart. I loaded up on lotion, firming cream, an exfoliating mask, self-tanner, and various other potions designed to make me a better person than I was on my own.
“Have you used this stuff before?” the cashier asked, holding out the tube of tanner.
“Not this brand, but I know the drill, exfoliate, wash your hands after, blah blah blah.” I looked at my watch. I really needed to get back to work.
“You should do a skin test.”
“Look at me, I’m pasty. Do I look like I get a tan easily? I’ve used fake tanner since it was nothing more than food coloring dye in a lotion bottle.”
“I’m just saying, the directions recommend a patch test.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I said with a stiff smile. She stuffed my things into a plastic bag.
I walked back to the station loaded down by shopping bags. I felt slightly better, significantly poorer, and somewhat more prepared.
* * *
I looked down at my toes separated with pieces of folded tissue. I wiggled my toes, each nail painted a perfect shade of Pistol Packing Pink. Feet with an attitude. I put one foot up on the tub and squeezed out a dollop of the self-tanner cream and smeared it over my legs. I might as while get a nice tan while I waited for them to dry.
What comes to mind when I think of Princess Diana? Style, attractive, tragic, wealth.
I was just a toddler when she got married. My mom was completely in love with her and the whole story. If my dad would have let her, I suspect she would have flown over to be one of the people cheering at the side of the road wearing some god-awful Chuck and Di commemorative T-shirt. My mom would tell the story over and over how I asked if Diana was the real Cinderella. Maybe that was what appealed to my Diana—the chance to be a real Disney princess.
Real
might be the wrong term. Who didn’t want to be a princess? Especially someone like my teen Diana, who had a less than Disney-perfect life.
Then again, maybe that was what appealed to her: Diana’s darker side. Cinderella who found out that winning the prince wasn’t a guarantee of happy ever after. Given that Princess Diana wasn’t daily TV news by the time she was growing up I wouldn’t think she would be interested in her at all. I could understand her having a thing for William. He was divine. The gods were smiling when they allowed him to take after his mother rather than his dad.
I finished smearing the cream over my arms and neck and then carefully washed my hands in the sink. There was no way I wanted to show up to my interview tomorrow with darkly tanned palms. What did she have to gain by pretending to be Princess Di? I looked myself over in the mirror one last time. I couldn’t think of a single thing.
The alarm went off at four am. Any fantasy I ever had of starring on the
Today
show evaporated in that instant. I knew there was a reason I was always drawn to evening news, it’s on at much more decent hour of the day. There would be no way I could get up this early on a regular basis. This couldn’t even be considered as early morning, it was more like really late at night. What made it even worse is that unlike radio where I could look like I spent the night drinking mojitos and dancing with my pantyhose strapped to my head like a turban, a television interview was going to require me to look perky. I shuffled into the bathroom. I rubbed my eyes and looked into the mirror.
I backed up quickly, until I hit the tub with a crack. The pain didn’t even faze me because I couldn’t take my eyes off my reflection. I looked away from the mirror and down at my body in case the problem was with the mirror. I looked like an orange Dalmatian. No, it was worse; I looked like an orange Dalmatian with a terminal case of mange. I was covered with giant orange flakey blotches. I yanked my T-shirt over my head. It was everywhere. I fell to my knees and grabbed the garbage can fishing through the contents, tossing various items over my shoulder until I found it.
The self-tanner promised a subtle color shift. It proclaimed right on the side of the blinking box, “No more orangey streaks! Look fresh from the beach!” The only way I looked fresh from the beach is if the beach was located near a leaking nuclear reactor. Of course right on the side of the package it stated that you should do a patch test. How can they sell stuff that has the capability of having this reaction? Shouldn’t it come with a giant warning label? Suggesting a patch test is one thing; if they had a picture of me on the side like a warning label, people would do a patch test. I ran out to the living room and dialed Avita’s cell. When she picked up I didn’t even wait for her to say hello.
“Something awful has happened!”
“You woke me up?”
“No, something awful happened to
me
. I used some of that self-tanner stuff and now I’m all orange and blotchy. There is flaking too. Not just flaking, more like full scale shedding. Like a snake. I know you’re mad at me, but you have to help.” I held one arm up and looked at it in sick fascination.
“What are you talking about?” Avita’s voice sounded soft and blunted as if it was being filtered through a feather duvet.
“Pay attention! I didn’t want to look washed out on TV so I bought self-tanning lotion. I seem to have had some kind of allergic reaction.” I padded back to the bathroom and looked at myself while talking to her. “You are going to have to reschedule the interview. There is no way I can go anywhere looking like this.”
“We can’t just reschedule the interview. It’s not that easy. We were lucky to get on at all with such little notice. If we bail on them there is no way we’re going to get on the air in the next two weeks.”
“Perhaps I’m not being clear. There is no way I am going on the air looking like this, not today, not tomorrow. If I’m lucky, in two weeks I will once again resemble a human being.”