Remember to Breathe (Book One of the True Desires Series) (9 page)

It's a big night and she was too preoccupied by what she hopes will happen to make a grocery list or to pay much attention to what she was picking out. She realized as she roved through the aisles that she was just throwing whatever happened to catch her eye into the cart.  But she went with it, figuring  that as long as the pile was large enough  she'd be able to throw together a suitable meal later. She watches as Brian scans her largely unfamiliar collection of groceries. They might as well belong to a stranger.

Brian is about to scan the last of her items, a bottle of Cabernet but stops. “I'll need to see some ID ma'am.”

Allie sighs. “Seriously?”

“
Seriously.”

Brian smiles as he looks at her driver's license. “Happy birthday,” he says.

“Thank you.”

“What time do you want me to come over to help you celebrate?”

T
oo bad I'm married and you're a tool.
Allie thinks as he hands her card back. If he's like this while he's working, Allie shudders to think what he could be like in private. There is a long, awkward silence. 
Say something, Allie,
she thinks. But what could she say? “
The only things allowed in my bed beside my husband are my Fat Daddy brand pork rinds?”

“I'll be fine, thank you,” she says finally. “And no, I won't be needing a receipt, so you can save your heroics for the next customer.”
She pays and rushes out of the store.

Seven o'clock comes- no Kevin. Allie sends a 
Where are you? 
text to him and tries to avoid staring at her phone. But she can't help it.
She isn't hungry, yet she eats her portion of the salmon and is soon halfway through a bottle of an old Cabernet.
Except for the ticking of the kitchen clock, the house is mausoleum quiet. Alone on her birthday. Allie's sadness grows with the passing seconds but she smiles as she thinks about the card Gina had given her. 
“
HAPPY GIRTHDAY!”
it read. When she opened it, a pathetic paper penis that was much wider than it was long popped out of the center of the card as best it could.

Another glass of wine.  She pokes Kevin's room temperature fish with her finger. She fights the urge to cry by sending another text, this time to Gina. She sends one to her old friend Sarah, who she speaks with about once a year. She pours more wine and waits for replies. When none come, she starts a text message binge, sending '
Hi, how are you?
'  messages to those who didn't already wish her a happy birthday.

She is nearing the end of her contact list and still, no replies. The battery symbol on her phone has turned jaundiced.  She decides that if she had to do it over again, she would have taken up the grocery store clerk on his offer. Hell, she'd have even welcomed the company of Gina's mystery man. And this bothers her.

In her previous life, being alone on her birthday wouldn't have fazed her so much. In fact, she would have welcomed it and used the time to be productive in her studio.
The pills.
If one was enough to resurrect her sex drive, how many more would it take to restore the higher functions that were critical to being a great artist? 

After another glass of wine, she decides to pay a visit to Tommy to make a purchase. A birthday gift to herself.
Wait.
She puts her index and forefingers to her temples.
Tommy- if you're reading my mind right now, please deliver some pills to me. I'm too tipsy to drive. I have cash and will tip you well but not with sex, you pervert.  I'm sure you know my address.

Twenty minutes pass.
Never mind, Tommy. I'm coming to you. Jeeze. 
Soon, the cab Allie has called to take her to Tommy's house pulls into the driveway.

The first thing Allie notices is that the doorbell has been restored to its mount.  She rings, hoping that Tommy still lives here and is still in business. She wouldn't mind if his mother had moved on, however. She breathes into her hand, hoping that she doesn't smell too much like alcohol.

A pretty, olive skinned woman answers. Her stomach is bulging and she is radiant. Allie guesses that she could give birth at any moment. “Can I help you?”

“
Is Tommy here?” Allie says meekly.

“I'm sorry; who are you?”

“I'm a... an old friend of Tommy's. Allie is my name.”

“Allie,” She repeats. “Hold on one moment.”

Shit- I the dress.  I should have changed. She probably thinks I'm a prostitute, even with this shawl.

Allie doesn't like the woman's vibe and thinks about running back to  the cab and telling the driver to get her the hell out of there. She looks back to her driver, hoping to catch a look from him that will say-
Hang in there girl
or
Get out of there! Run!
Or any look at all. Instead, he's talking on his phone. And seems to be looking in the opposite direction.

Allie turns her attention back to the door. It is too late to run now because Tommy has arrived. The woman who answered is beside him. A little girl who looks like a miniature version of her peaks at Allie from behind his leg.

“Hi, can I help you?” Tommy asks. Allie searches his eyes for even the slightest bit of recognition but finds none.
Shit.

“Hi,” Allie says.

“Hi.  Is there something I can do for you?”

Allie's face reddens even more.
Either he doesn't recognize me or he's playing dumb. Whatever the case, I sure as hell can't ask him to hook me up with drugs right now.

A familiar voice cries out in the background. “TOMMY!”

Tommy's mother. Allie hopes that she'll come to the door.
She'd remember me for sure. Maybe she'll insist that I use her bathroom for old times sake.

“It's me, Allie. Remember?” Tommy and the pregnant woman exchange confused glances.

“I'm sorry, did we go to school together or something?”

“You know what? No, I...I'm sorry. I must have the wrong house and the wrong Tommy. Sorry to have bothered you,” Allie says.

“No, it's okay. Really,” he says.

The woman whispers into Tommy's ear. Tommy pulls out his wallet, thumbs through it and takes out a  twenty dollar bill. “Here, take this. For the cab,” he says.

Allie holds her palms out to him. “Oh no, I couldn't. I'm fine, really. Really. But thank you,” she says.

“Well goodnight then. Be careful out there,” he says as the door closes. She thought she saw a hint of recognition in his last glance. Or maybe not.

Allie has the driver stop at a convenience store where she buys a bottle of wine and a corkscrew. When he pulls into her driveway, she points the corkscrew at the cabdriver's ear. “That radio has been quiet. Too quiet. You should park here and drink with me,” Allie says. “Keep the meter running. I don't care. I've got enough money on me to keep you here with me for weeks!”

“I don't drink,” he says. “But thanks. And if it's alright with you, I'd like to get going. It's my wife's birthday and I'd like to get home to her a little early.”

“Mine too!” Allie cries as she slaps him on his shoulder. “She's so lucky to have a husband like you. I hope she knows that. One who 'members her birthday and all.”

“Well, happy birthday.  It's going to be twenty four dollars tonight dear,” he says.

“Yes, happy birthday to me,” she says, clutching the bottle to her side and fighting back tears as she searches her purse for the money.

“This him? This your husband?” The cabdriver asks. Allie looks up from her purse as a car pulls alongside them in her driveway.

“I don't..I don't know. Maybe?” Allie says as she hands him a twenty and a ten. “Keep the change,” she says. “Wait can you stay here a little bit? I don't recognize this car.”

“Sure thing.”

Allie gets out of the cab, clutching her purse and wine. The driver's window rolls down. “Happy birthday Allie,” a smiling man says. It takes her a moment before she realizes who it is.  It's Brian, the obnoxious clerk from earlier in the day.

“Stalk much, do you?" she asks.  He holds up a bag of something.

“Your pork rinds. The man you gave them to left without them and since I remembered your address from when you showed me your driver's license, I figured this would be as good as any of a place to start before shelling out any money for a lost and found ad,” he says. “Oh and I also have this vintage Merlot. Pairs best with pork rinds, or so I'm told,” he says.

Allie laughs and waves away the cab driver. “ I suppose you can come in for a drink,” she says to Brian. “But just one. And I'll have my eye on you,” she warns.

“
You weren't kidding about the 'having an eye on me' thing,” Kevin says, looking at
Horus Revisited
. “I love this.”

“You do? Really?” Allie takes a big swallow of wine and goes to turn on some music.

“Absolutely. The color choices, the brush strokes. Fantastic. Do you have more of this artist's work?”

“Sure. Most of it's still up here though,” she says, pointing to her head.

“Wow.”

“Surprised?”

He grabs her hands and inspects them. “Somewhat. I'd expect at least a little paint on the hands of someone that talented.”

“Well it's been awhile,” Allie says, pulling away.
Change of subject.

By the end of Allie's bottle, they have discovered that they have been to most all of the same reefs for scuba diving trips and they are dancing barefoot in the living room.  Dancing was something Allie did regularly in the days when she was painting- with a partner or not. Allie can't remember the last time she did this. They are laughing at something Brian said about pooping in the middle of a dance-off in Aruba when Allie makes a move for the wine that Brian had set down on the coffee table.

He grabs her, stopping her short of the table.

“No! more!” She protests. She lunges toward the bottle but he throws an arm around her waist and pulls her close, turning and pressing her into his body. He smells like a fresh spring evening. 

“I WANT SOME!”

“You're going to dance with me some more first.”

Allie points a finger in Brian's face. “You-yoouuuare such an asshole. Suuch an asshole. And did you know that you kinda look like my old fiance but fun...funner...funnerer? Erer! Ha! Wait, let me go. I have to go to the bathroom.”

“You just want more wine.”

She squirms. “I swear no. No, let me go or I'm going to pee on you. Let me go! Now!”

He lets her go. With lightening speed, she snatches up the grocery bag and scuttles to the other side of the room, laughing. She peeks in it, laughs some more and disappears into the hallway and then into the master bedroom, locking the door.

“Unlock the door,” Brian says.

“Corkscrew!”  Allie demands. “Call the cab because that's where I left it,” she says. “His name is Ron. The cabdriver. You'd like him. Get him to bring it back and then I'll open the door and then the three of us can drink here in the bathroom. Forever. And ever. Amen.” Allie begins humming a tune.

“Unlock the door.”

“You have a corkscrew?”

“I do.”

“You'd better or I'm gonna call the police AND the firemen AND the dog catchers and Ron and we will drink you under so many tables you won't even know what a table looks like when it hits you on the way out,” she says.