A Chance for Sunny Skies (7 page)

I furrowed my forehead. Cliff?

Her eyes widened as she saw my questioning look. "He's the guy who was there last night." She waved her free hand as if last night wasn't a big deal, as if a better identifier for him wasn't "the guy who tripped that horrid bitch."

Cliff. Huh. I chuckled. I thought about his craggy, earthy looking face. What a fitting name.

Rainy cleared her throat. "So what really happened?"

I looked her in the eyes and she held my gaze as we walked forward. "Okay, okay. I helped him get his shoe out of the road."

"A green shoe?"

I nodded. "His friend was with him and... I freaked." My face got hot all over again. "I ran."

God bless Rainy for not looking too surprised about the me running-and-being-athletic bit. She simply pressed her lips together. "Hmmm... was he cute?"

My eyes focused on the ground, but I smiled despite myself. "Yeah."

"And now you're trying to figure out what this means..." she pointed up at the sky, "to the universe." She pulled me to a stop.

My smile disappeared. I let my arm go limp and drop away from hers. "There's nothing to figure out. I've ruined it. All of it. I turned my back on a vision. I'm pretty sure it means I lose that one. Maybe even the whole lot of them."

Rainy grabbed me by the shoulders, surprising me. "No way!" she said.

I jumped. "What?" I looked around, patted down my hair, expecting a huge spider or crazy bird to have nested there.

"You didn't tell me the visions came with a rule book." She slapped my arm playfully.

I squinted at her. "I -- I don't --" I stammered.

"Oh!" She nodded. "So you're coming to this crazy conclusion all by yourself, with no evidence at all?" Rainy wrapped her arm back up in mine and started us walking forward again. "Stay positive. Things will work out. You'll see."

I tried to let her words feel real, sink in, make a difference, but as Rainy and I walked past the place I'd seen the green shoe guy in the street, I couldn't tear my eyes away or seem to shake the feeling this might be one time that Rainbow Gold wasn't lucky.

We parted at my building, sharing a quick smile and a wave. Something about the whole interaction just made me feel warm. Loved. This was what it was like to have friends. This was what I had been missing. This was what I had convinced myself I would never have.

The universe had been damn right to mostly drown me.

Walking back into work even felt different. Or was that the yoga? Was I standing straighter? Did I feel less jiggly? I'll tell you what, I felt good as I got back to my office and got to work. I mean, it was normal for me to feel pretty great when I sat down in front of a computer. Computers meant I was either at work (where I kind of rocked the whole captioning gig) or on the BBC message boards for my favorite shows at home (where people loved sunnygirl516 and looked forward to my witty insights on our favorite characters and their fictitious lives). Having that feeling in the rest of my life, from anywhere but behind a keyboard was an oddity, one I welcomed.

The I-feel-taller-and-slightly-thinner sensation lasted until quitting time and I walked with my head up as I left for home. I think that might be why Amanda, my department-head spotted me as I passed by instead of ignoring me per usual.

"Hey, um -- Sunny." Her eyes flicked down to a note or screen in front of her as she checked my name. "Spencer wants to see you." Her face smiled, but it looked like an apology.

Was I in trouble? Shit, shit, shit.

I shuffled into the elevator, poking the up button, instead of the down you-get-to-go-home button. By the time the elevator spit me out onto the right floor, I had myself convinced I was 1.) not in trouble, 2.) probably getting an award for something, and 3.) yes, some sort of award was on its way. Fitness during lunch award, presented with pride to Sunny Skies, girl whose life was turning around.

So my shoulders were back and I stood straight, walking with a purpose, and knocked on his door right when his secretary showed me back instead of curling in fear for a few seconds like I normally did. I hadn't called this meeting, so I didn't know how to prepare myself, how to practice like Tim had taught me, but I was New Sunny. I had a friend; I was making some progress. The knowledge of all that helped me walk forward.

"Come in."

I poked my head in the door first. When he nodded at me, I slipped the rest of me in. "Amanda said you needed to see me, Sir?" I pressed my lips together and watched him. He wasn't smiling. His face contorted into a scowl as he looked at a report and cross checked it with something on his screen. Then he looked up.

"Oh, yes. Sunny -- um...." He put the paper down and rubbed his chin. "We had a few problems with your work today

"Problems?" My mind rewound the day. Where could I have made a mistake?

"Yes." He looked at his report again. "It seems after lunch you made five typos, very unlike you, looking at your record." Spencer met my gaze.

My face grew hot. I blinked, but it felt like it took all of my strength to lift my eyelids again. After lunch. After I had a good exercise experience. My happiness made me a bad worker.

"Sorry, sir. I promise it won't happen again."

He nodded. "I expect it won't." He waved me out.

I turned and left, my heart cracking into a thousand sharp, stinging pieces. For a moment, during yoga, I thought maybe snubbing the universe by running away from one of my visions wouldn't be such a big deal. Now I realized I wouldn't be getting out of this easily.

My fears were confirmed while waiting at the elevator. I heard, "Cheeto Crotch!" behind me and my stomach rolled. Ken. I tried to use Jedi-mind-powers to pull that freaking elevator up and open the doors, but nothing happened, I turned to see his grin slide sideways and he started for me, his long legs stretching toward me like fingers on a giant hand of doom.

I cringed. The warm friendship buzz I had been riding since Rainy left curled and hid just like I wanted to. The achey terrible feeling came back. My face got hot, my legs ached to move, and I'm sure I was nearing ten on the how-anxious-are-you scale system Tim used to make me use in our sessions. My shoulders slumped in defeat. Could it really be this easy to make all of my hard work go away? A reprimand from my boss then a look from Ken and I was back to I-hate-humans get-me-to-the-nearest-dark-hole-and-I'll-be-fine.

He wrapped his expensively-suited arm around my shoulders like he normally did. "When should I pick you up tonight?" He looked me right in the face and said, "Eight?"

Usually the heat in my cheeks burned hotter than my hate for this prick, but today felt different. Reprimand or not, this had been a good day. I couldn't let him ruin that. I set my jaw. The normal fear I felt was replaced by a white hot rage. All of a sudden, I started to hear Rainy in my thoughts.

This guy? He's a giant talking dick.

I giggled. Out loud.

Either Ken's super-evil hearing caught the noise or he felt the quick shudder of my shoulders as I laughed. It took him more than a few seconds to wrap his slimy brain around what was happening. I'd never talked in front of him. He'd never seen me do anything but turn red and run away, even on the fateful day we met for the first time when I had to stand in for one of the on-air transcriptionists I had been red the whole time I typed and had scooted away just as soon as I was done.

"What -- What's so funny?" He stuttered, but quickly slipped into his superior smile again. "Do you have some sort of crazy joke going with yourself in that fuzzy red head of yours?" He rubbed his knuckles on my scalp.

Instead of ducking away like normal, I brought my arm up and swatted him. I decided it was time to do something about this walking phallus. The clever what-would-Rainy-say options all seemed to flit away like scared birds on a street just when I needed them and all that came out of my mouth was, "You're a dick."

Lame or not, hearing myself say something, anything, even those words made me nearly choke. My heart bounced around my chest like a Looney Toons character as I watched for his reaction.

His face curled into a sneer. "A dick?" He opened his mouth and bellowed out a deep laugh. "That's the best thing I've heard all day! I get called a dick by a girl who's never going to see one in her life because no one but me will touch her with a ten-foot pole, let alone his personal pole." He pulled me tighter to him. "You know what, Cheeto, I like you even better when you talk." He gave my scalp another knuckle rub and then walked a few feet away. "Make sure you have another gem for me tomorrow."

My chest ached. His hilarinsults wound through my mind. No one would touch me? He'd see me tomorrow? At that moment, I swear I heard the exact sound of a balloon deflating, only I'm quite sure it was my newfound confidence. Finally the elevator opened. (Figures.) My feet dragged like even they were tired of being part of me as I walked inside. I stood up to him and it only made things worse. Ken and I used to only collide a couple times a month, maybe double up in a week if I was really unlucky, but now? It sounded like I had just bought a daily ticket to Ken-town.

I collapsed into Gerald. My face still felt hot and my chest ached like it did whenever I was in trouble. Did the whole Ken interaction happen because I ran away from Green Shoe Guy? Was this my punishment? I rubbed my hands over my face and closed my eyes. Why? These visions were supposed to give me a new life, not make it worse than it was before.

After my workout during lunch, I'd had grand plans of keeping the momentum going, you know, making some sort of healthy salad to compliment my exercising for the first time in a decade. As I sniffled and shoved my key into the ignition, all I could think of was drowning. Not the kind which I experienced a few days ago, with water and almost dying (and visions). The kind I was all too familiar with, the kind that involved copious amounts of cheese, sugar, grease, and very low amounts of caring, dignity, and self-control.

Gerald, seemingly of his own accord, drove me to my favorite pizza joint. Getting out I grabbed for my purse, but it was all mixed together with my lunch bag, workout bag, and jacket and I really didn't feel like untangling everything, so I just grabbed all of it together in a display of utmost laziness.

Slumping into the restaurant, I plopped my bevy of bags next to me in the booth, pulled out a paperback version of
The Princess Bride
I always carried with me (not that I really felt like reading, but it was the universal it's-okay-that-I'm-eating-by-myself-cause-I'm-reading phenomenon), and let my shoulders drop forward in their old, normal fashion.

Who was I kidding? I couldn't be a different person. Trying to have friends had been great for a moment, but how long could it really last? They were probably just trying to be nice because they felt sorry for me. I should let them out of whatever obligation they felt.

Exercising was obviously out. After I'd come back from the class, I'd made more mistakes in a few hours than I had in my months working for the station. Had the endorphins messed with my accuracy?

Last, and worst of all, was the realization that standing up to Ken, growing some sort of backbone, had made him even worse. It was almost as if I'd fed some evil inside him and made him bigger, badder, meaner. The universe had got it all wrong. I wasn't worth saving, I wasn't worth helping, I shouldn't have been given a second chance because I was ruining it all.

My dejected thoughts were interrupted by a peppy waiter bouncing in front of me, setting a basket of breadsticks down at my table.

"Welcome to Pizza Planet. Our pizza's out of this world!" He was small, pimply, and obviously not yet out of the hellish grips of high school. I almost felt sorry for him, that is, until I remembered my life. "Can I get you something to drink?" the boy asked.

I blinked. "Water's fine," I said. My day weighed heavy on my thoughts, my shoulders, heck, it felt like a whole person sitting next to me in the booth, leaning too close and breathing hot, terrible breath right in my face. The boy turned to leave. "Soda," I called after him.

He stopped and turned around. "Sorry?"

"Actually, I want a soda."

He nodded, smiled, and turned toward the kitchen.

My skinnier feelings and my conviction were obviously gone. I closed my eyes and mentally turned off the New Sunny that had been talking to me throughout the day. The more confident Sunny had seemed awesome at first. She had stayed positive even after the Green Shoe Guy runaway disaster, but she hadn't focused after lunch and she had made things worse with Ken. She had failed. So when she started spouting a bunch of nonsense about undoing my hard work in class today, I rolled my eyes and shoved a free breadstick in my mouth to shut her up.

"Take that, New Sunny," I mumbled, pieces of bread flying as I said the words.

Unfortunately, my pimple-prone pre-adult waiter chose that moment to bring me a water.

"There you go." He set it down quickly and shied away, probably not wanting to get pelted by any chewed bread pieces. He pulled out a notepad and asked, "What can I get you to eat?"

"A small cheese pizza, please." I covered my mouth with my hand this time.

I sighed and looked around the restaurant. It was only 4:30 in the afternoon, so it was just me, a few older couples, and one old lady sitting by herself, reading. I turned back to my breadstick basket and grabbed another, picking at it as if I wasn't about to eat a meal made up almost exclusively of bread in a few minutes. When I stuck the first piece into my mouth, I froze mid chew. My teeth felt locked in place, like my feet always seem to be in dreams when I'm supposed to run away from murderers. I turned my head and my eyes locked back onto the old woman sitting by herself across the restaurant.

I blinked slowly, swallowed the chewed pieces of breadstick in my mouth before they fell out, and coaxed myself to breathe.

It was the old lady from my fourth vision. My face crumpled in confusion. I had been expecting them to stop completely since I had shirked the Green Shoe Guy earlier.

Should I go talk to her? After a moment, I decided just to observe first. I sipped my water and scooted forward in my seat so I could get a better look. Her frizzy, gray hair stuck out in all directions, even though she'd obviously tried to tame it into a long braid that traveled down her back. To be fair, it did look like it'd been a few days since the braiding had taken place. She hunched over her own table, picking apart a breadstick, shoving pieces into her mouth while reading a paperback. Just like me.

My fingers stopped ripping at the breadstick I held. I shuddered and threw it back into the basket then pushed my book away.

In the booth next to her, she had close to seven bags piled high, almost forming the shape of a body. I'm not sure if the icy shock that followed was due to the gulp of water I just took in, or the fact that my booth looked equally piled with my tangled mess of bags looking equally like a fake person. A bag-friend.

My eyes widened and my arm flailed out, slapping the pile, and sending it flying across the bench. Even with that similarity gone, my lungs still felt child-sized and I couldn't seem to get enough air in me before my erratic breathing pushed it back out. My lips tingled and I bit down on them to control my thoughts, ground my crazy head.

Luckily, the greasy-faced waiter kid shot toward me, balancing a large tray over his head. He set it down in the aisle and wiggled his fingers as he looked over the haul.