Whispering Wishes (4 page)

“Yes, please
,” Both Mischa and I say together.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.
I can’t wait to find out what I will hear next.”

I roll my eyes as he walks away
. “Anyway, the truth of the matter is, I need my job, so if they tell me I either have to train her or be fired, what choice do I have?”

“Can you call your human resources department and talk to them about it?”

I laugh out loud. “Sure that would be a great idea, if our HR representative wasn’t best friends with my boss.” Mischa chokes on her drink, and I make sure she’s okay before I continue, “Yeah, it’s all so twisted. Rumor has it our HR representative posted pictures from her bachelorette party and my immediate supervisor, Lisa, was in attendance. She also posted pictures from some vacation on a beach somewhere of which she was also a participant.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. Professional, right? And it isn’t like there were a ton of work people. Lisa was the only one from work in attendance. What a way to make the staff feel comfortable talking to their HR rep about their boss, right?”

“Wow.
Well then, you can go above the state HR rep right and go to the HR representative for corporate?”

“Yes, that could be an option.”

“Well maybe you should consider that.”

“I will consider it, but I’m not sure it would matter.
Besides, I worry that it would just be committing career suicide.”

“Well you don’t know unless you try
, and you can’t just quit without at least trying.”

“True.
So, enough about me. Distract me, and tell me about your day.”

I’m not expecting a deep voice to respond to my question, “My day has been pretty busy.
Since this location opened, we’ve had a revolving door, people here constantly.”

I can’t help but laugh
. “I actually wasn’t talking to you,” I lift my eyebrows at Wes, “but thanks for the update.”

“You bet.
I’ll be here all day,” he teases as he fills our glasses with a grin and walks away. I’m not proud of it, I totally watch him walk away. Again. I can’t help it. And of course, OF COURSE, he turns around and looks at me and catches me doing just that.

I turn back to Mischa
, wide-eyed and see her grinning. “Maybe your day is looking up.”

“Because of him?” I gesture with a jerk of my thumb
. “Pah-lease. Totally out of my league.”

“No one is out of your league.”
I just shrug my shoulders at her and she continues. “Anyway, my day was good. I got a new shipment of soul balancing oils in, and I already almost sold out of them the second they arrived. It’s crazy, like my customers just know when they arrive or something.”

“Soul balancing oils?”

“Yes, Aspen. Soul balancing. It’s an oil that calms, relaxes, and soothes the soul,” she sighs, knowing very well I’m trying hard not to make a sarcastic remark. “You should try it some time.”

I avoid that suggestion
. “I’m glad business has been so great for you.”

“Me too.”

We continue making small talk while we eat and finish our glasses of wine. Before I even know what’s happening, I start to feel better. “Forget the soul balancing oil, Mish. All I need is you. Thanks for suggesting this, it’s just what I needed.” It’s amazing what good conversation with a great friend can do.

She smiles a genuine smile and it lights up her pretty brown eyes
. “I’m glad.”

“Ladies, here is your check.
I’ll take it whenever you’re ready.”

Before I can even reach for my purse, Mischa has her card in the envelope, “I got it.”

“What? No!”

“Yes, it’s my attempt to help make your day better.”

“Aw, thank you. I got it next time, okay?”

“May I suggest that your next time be here?
I thoroughly enjoyed the entertainment that waiting on you brought.”

Mischa and I laugh
. “I’m pretty sure you have some loyal new customers, right Aspen?”

“Yeah sure
, why not? We could use a place to call ‘our place’ to meet, anyway. It’s about time this town got a trendy place to hang out in.”

“Cool,” Wes says with a grin
. “You should come on the weekend some time. We have live music and while we still have tables where we serve food, the place gets more of a club vibe than a wine bar vibe.”

“Sounds fun, we should make this a weekly thing.
What do you think Aspen?”

“I’m down with that,” I reply.

Wes brings Mischa her card back and the bill to sign and with a “see you later,” we both make our way to the door.
I refuse to look back at him to get one more look even though I’m dying to. Besides, I have more important things to do like gorge myself on ice cream when I get home. Yeah, I just ate, but whatever. It was a bad day and I deserve it. At least I’m not crying. Yet.

As we approach the door, I realize it's dark out already.
I can smell rain in the air, and I’m glad we left before we get caught in a downpour. I give Mischa a hug goodbye. “Thanks for this and for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.
Also, do what you need to do with work. I want you to know that if need be, you can always come work at my store. I could actually really use the help. Running the store on my own can be too much at times.”

“Thank you.
That means a lot and I will remember that. Knowing I have you makes everything better.”

“Okay, I love you.
I will call you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good!”

I make my way to my car, get in and buckle up. I flip through the radio stations trying to find a good song. When I hear Kelly Clarkson blare through the speakers, I stop my search and pull out of my parking space to make my way home. Who doesn’t want a little woman empowerment music when they feel like they’ve been screwed? Kelly is good for that.

I’m singing at the top of my lungs when I notice a weird hitch with my car.
I look in the rearview mirror to see if I ran over something. Nothing. That’s weird. When it happens again my whole car shakes. “What the hell?”

My car starts smoking.
And not just a little bit. I’m talking white smoke emerging in a huge cloud from the front of my car that smells horrible. “Are you fucking kidding me?” My car starts shaking so bad that I have to pull over onto the side of the road. I beat the steering wheel just for good measure. “What the hell, girl?” I start yelling at my car. “I’ve been nothing but good to you! I even started feeding you Supreme! This is how you repay me?”

I push the button to pop my hood and step out of the car.
I pull the top up and look down into it and see more smoke pouring out of some contraption that means absolutely nothing to me. I know shit about cars. I have no clue what to do. I finally find and put the sticky thing in place to hold the hood up. Unbelievable. I put my head in my hands and let out a scream of frustration. I even stomp my foot for good measure. I take the stick out, slam the lid closed and go back to my car, grab my purse, and yank out my phone to call Mischa. I know she’ll come pick me up in a hot second. I hate bothering her, but I know she’ll come take me home. I press the button to bring my screen up and nothing happens. It stays black. I push it again and again. I’m stabbing at it so hard, but then realize my phone has run out of power and has died. “Of course. Of course you died. Perfect.”

Okay, think rationally Aspen.
I am only a little more than a mile from home. I will walk home and call a tow truck. They will get my car, and all will be fine. I will figure everything else out when I get home.

With a deep breath, I lock the car doors with my key
s and start walking in the direction of my home, ignoring the fact that my feet automatically start screaming because they are squeezed into high heels. Three and a half inch high heels. After a few steps, my feet are hurting, protesting louder, and I’m walking a bit slower with a slight limp. I lift my head, straighten my shoulders and do my best to ignore it. After about twenty steps, I feel a drop of moisture on my nose. I swipe at it. Another. This time on my cheek. “Oh no. No, no, no. Not even my luck could be this bad.”

Without any warning, it starts raining.
Pouring. A heavy, drenching, downpour. It literally went from a few drops to this, in mere seconds.

Worst. Day. Ever.

Mischa says the
universe doesn’t hate me, but she is so terribly, horribly, miserably wrong! I can’t wait to have some serious words with her as soon as I get my ass home.

This freaking rain!
Water is running down my entire body as though I’m standing under a strong spa showerhead - fully clothed. With every step, the rain pummels me harder. It’s like I’m walking into a constant wall of water. I am literally soaked to the bone – and freezing! I’m probably going to end up with pneumonia. Only the fire in my gut – burning in an unquenchable manner from my seething anger - is keeping me warm and giving me the smallest measure of hope. Despite trying to use the shelter of the trees along the roadside to protect me, I may as well be walking in an open field.

Stamp.
Squish. Stamp. Squish.

The rain is so intense that the sidewalks do not have mere puddles accumulating, but actual pools.
Huge dogs could go swimming. And though I’ve only been walking about a half a mile, I would guess, my feet were slipping so badly in my shoes it made walking nearly impossible, so I had to take them off. Lucky me, I am not only getting drenched, my feet are obtaining a concrete scrub and are screeching in pain as my soles get devoured by the pavement. So which do I choose: walking faster and having my feet scream louder, or walking slower and being exposed even longer to this lovely downpour? Just shoot me!

Stamp.
Stamp. “Ow.” Stamp. Stamp. “Ow!” Stamp. Slide. Stamp. “OWWWW!”I seriously can’t believe my luck. How could one person have this much bad shit happen to them in one day? And how am I going to pay for whatever is wrong with my car? No current emergency fund for that! They should have the kind of insurance for your cars that they have for health. Well, maybe except for when you’re in an accident. But for these situations, I should be able to take it to a repair place and pay a forty-dollar copay payment to get it fixed. Heck, we pay enough for insurance it should work that way. I think I’ll write a strongly worded letter to my congressman about that. Demanding a change. At that, I snort amused to think I would ever contact a congressman. Or write a letter.

Stamp.
Stamp. Splat. Splat.

A car approaches and I move as close from the curb as possible.
It passes quickly, and while some water splashes up next to the curb and comes really close to splashing me, it misses. Ok. Thank goodness for small favors, at least I avoided that disaster.

And just as the thought passes, another car, clinging to the curb, goes by much faster, and a whole freaking puddle lands in my face and runs down over the front of me.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thanks a lot ASSHOLE!” I scream to the car’s brake lights. I’m in a freaking residential neighborhood for God’s sake, why is anyone driving that fast anyway?

Another car approaches and I brace for the inevitable, which thankfully does not happen.
I pause on the sidewalk as the passing car pulls into a driveway a few yards in front of where I’m walking. Once it pulls forward, out of the way of the sidewalk, I pick up my pace, determined to get home. Only another half mile or so – I think.

“Hey!”

I jump when a voice yells to me. I don’t respond and keep walking down the sidewalk like it isn’t nighttime and pouring rain, and I mean to be out here just taking a leisurely stroll. Shoeless. Wet. Yeah, that’s believable.

“Aspen?”

Huh? I automatically spin around at the sound of my name. I squint through the sheet of rain and see Wes, the guy from the bar, standing under a large golf-size umbrella staring at me. “Wes? Is that you? Hey.” I want to look at him, but can hardly take my eyes off the beautiful item of protection he is grasping.

“Hey,” he runs up to me and immediately covers me with the umbrella.
It dawns on me that the car pulling into the driveway was his and this must be where he lives.
Wow, nice house
, I think to myself as I take in the red brick two story home. “I thought that was you. What in the world are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, just out for a rainy day stroll
.” He doesn’t smile; instead he looks… concerned? “My car broke down maybe a half mile back. I’m walking home.” And probably going to die from exposure later tonight or certainly by tomorrow.

“Why didn’t you call someone?”

“Phone’s dead.”

“Well come on, let me bring you home.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to do that.”

He places a hand on one hip, “I want to.
Come on; get in my car. I won’t take no for an answer, it’s freezing out here.”

My traitorous body shivers right then and he notices and raises an eyebrow.
I take him in, standing here in the pouring rain with me. He could have gone inside and ignored the weirdo walking in the rain, but instead he went to check it out and got involved. I suddenly feel warmer. “Okay, sure. That would be great. Thank you.”

We walk to his car and instead of rushing to
the driver’s door, he walks to the passenger’s and holds the door open, waiting for me to get in first. Wow, hot and a gentleman. When I’m in and after he has handed me the seatbelt to place across myself, he gets in the car and turns the key in the ignition, immediately blasting the heat. I begin to shiver again.

“Shit.
Hold on,” he mutters and makes a dash out of his car and up to the front door. He returns mere seconds later and I see him carrying something through the blurry, rain soaked windows. He slams into the car yanking the door closed and says, “Here, use this.”

I look down and see he’s pushing a warm-looking, soft, plush blanket at me.
“You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.” And quickly wrap it snugly around me.

“Yeah, sure.
You’re freezing.”

I just nod at him, my teeth are chattering too much to respond.

He backs out of his driveway.
“Where do you live?”

“Just head down this street until you hit Rio Drive, then take a left to Blaze Ave.
I live in the little green house third from the right after the stop sign.”

“Oh, that’s a nice subdivision.
Have you lived there long?”

“A couple years.
I rent the house. I’m hoping my landlord will sell it to me. I love it.” I try really hard not to stammer or stutter and force the words out between shivers.

“Oh nice.”

“I’m assuming that’s your house that we just left?”

“Yeah, it is.
It used to be my parents’ house.”

“Used to be?”

“Yes. They passed away over a year ago.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks,” he says, glancing at me but doesn’t elaborate any more.

“That’s it, right there,” I say pointing at my house once we advance after stopping completely at the stop sign. I mean who does that in this neighborhood?

He pulls into the driveway and looks over at me. “Here you go.”

“Thank you so much, Wes.
I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.
I’m sorry about your car.”

“Ugh, me too
.” I start to give him the blanket back, but he holds his hand up. “No, take it with you,” he gestures outside to where the rain is really pouring down now. “You can return it to me later. Besides, you know where I live and work now.”

I laugh
. “That’s true.” I dig through my purse searching for my house keys so they are ready when I get to the door. I slide on my shoes, which have been sitting under the heating blowers under the dash. “Thanks again.” I toss him a smile and upon opening the car door hearing his, “See you later, Aspen.” I close the car door and attempt to make a mad dash to my front door. I literally go three steps before my feet slide in my shoes yet again, and take me sailing towards the concrete face first. I put my hands out to stop myself the best I can, but I still bump my chin and scrape my knee in the process. I pop up so fast it’s like my ass is on fire. I die a little inside as I hear a car door and quick feet.

“Aspen!
Are you okay?”

I turn to Wes and force a smile onto my face.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just slipped. Slippery shoes. Wet out here. Slippery and wet,” I tell him, shoes again in hand, backing up and continuing to make my way to the door. I turn and walk the rest of the way. Toss a wave over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of him still standing there with a helpless look on his face.

I push the key into the lock and go inside the house
. Upon closing the door, I slide down the length of it. I put my head in my hands and allow myself a minute to hate life. Car lights appear on the walls, indicating Wes backing out of my driveway. I can’t believe I fell…in front of him…as if everything else wasn’t bad enough.

With a sigh, I head into the bathroom, start stripping off my wet clothes and grab a towel to dry off.
I take some comfy clothes from my dresser and throw them on. I dare to look in the mirror after getting a brush, and run it through my hair trying to release the tangles, realizing my chin is bleeding. Not the water or wet hair I thought it was, but blood. Dripping blood. Brilliant. Upon closer inspection, I see I’ve split my chin open. I don’t need stitches –do I? Shit, it’s bleeding like a son of a bitch. Universe – 3, Aspen – 0.

I rummage through my cupboards looking for some bandages and grab a few of the butterfly kind
along with some antiseptic. I clean up the scrape, which stings unmercifully, and put a bandage over the area, hoping it will hold the skin together well enough.

I grab another towel and start drying my hair with it as I make my way to my home phone.
I’m glad I’ve kept a home line. I almost cancelled last month since I have my cell phone, but my parents always call my land line, so I’ve kept it for now. Though now that I didn’t get that promotion and raise I was hoping for, I may need to reevaluate my budget. The phone may be a casualty after all.

I call the tow truck company and ask them to tow it to a
mechanic
I’ve used before, trying not to grimace at the unexpected cost and knowing this is likely only the beginning. I leave a message on the mechanic’s voicemail since they’ve already closed for the day telling them what happened and asking for a call back with an estimate when they have one.

Then, I call Mischa.
She answers on the first ring. “Hey.”

“Hey.
So, I didn’t ask you, what do you have going on tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?
I have a busy morning. The truck is supposed to arrive first thing, dropping my new order of meditation mats and some new office furniture I ordered. This is the month when all my new stock comes in. Before that, I need to make a bank run and drop off my rent. Why? What’s up?”

I briefly consider asking her if she can fit me in for a ride to work, but quickly abandon it.
I know she would, but she has her hands full and the last thing I want to do is add more to her already full plate. So I make up an excuse. “Oh, I was just wondering in case I have the urge to kill big boobs Brandi and wanting to ensure you would be around to talk me down if I give you a call, or you know… post bail if necessary.”

She laughs
. “If I see you calling, I will pick up immediately.”

“Okay, awesome.
Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

Ok. Plan B. I need to go to my computer and pull up the bus schedule. Fortunately, I have a bus stop close to my house and there is one just down the street from the bank, so I can make it to work. Hopefully they will be able to get my car repaired tomorrow and this won’t be something I need to do more than one day. No problem. I can handle that.

On my way to my home office, I stop in the kitchen and grab the cookie dough ice cream out of the freezer, s
nagging a spoon from the drawer. It’s well deserved, that’s for damn sure.

I fire up the computer and pull up the schedule.
The bus picks up almost every half hour, so that’s good, and bonus, I don’t have to make any transfers, but can take the same one all the way to the bank. Unfortunately, unless I leave ridiculously early and catch the express bus, it makes what looks like fifteen stops along the way. Awesome. I shove a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. Ok - fifteen stops –that shouldn’t be too bad, right? So, if I catch the bus at 7:00 AM, get to the stop at 7:45 and walk to the bank, I can arrive to work by 8:00 AM, no problem. That should be plenty of time.