Saved by the Celebutante (4 page)

“It’s okay. I get it. So what are you doing here?”

“I need my laptop. I was planning a new menu for the restaurant yesterday morning and I have to finish it before tonight.”

“Ah. Well, I suppose you better come up then. Penny’s visiting.”

“That’s great. Is she being supportive?”

“In her own way.”

Corey and Penny have always had a funny relationship. They bicker like little kids every time they see each other. Now I wonder if he was just worried she might have suspected the truth and didn’t know how to handle it.

“I’m glad you’ve got someone staying with you,” he says.

We walk together up to our apartment. Corey tries to put his arm around my shoulder, but I shrug him off. I’m still too upset.

When we go through the door, I pull away completely and head towards where Penny is lying on the couch, texting on her phone.

She looks up. “That was quick. Was work okay?”

I sigh. “I’ll fill you in later.”

“How come…oh.”

She looks at Corey as he enters the living room. “Hey,” she says, unsmiling.

“Hi,” he replies stiffly.

“Corey’s just picking up his laptop and then leaving,” I tell her.

She shoots him a withering look. “Can’t leave any evidence lying around, huh?”

“Of what?” he replies defensively.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

Corey picks up the machine and clutches it to his chest. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” She narrows her eyes at him.

Hang on. What is she getting at? Should I be letting him leave with the computer? Could he be planning a date or something?

“Corey?” I ask. “Are you meeting people online?”

“No.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

“Chrissie, this is crazy,” he says, exasperated.

“Is it? Well, can you blame me? You’ve been keeping this huge secret from me for God knows how long! How am I supposed to act?”

“I don’t know what else to say, other than I’m sorry.”

“I’m afraid that’s not going to cut it right now.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t want you hooking up with anyone else until we’ve sorted out whatever’s going on between us first.”

I stride up to him and grab the laptop out of his arms. And then before my brain catches up to my hands, I watch the machine smashing against the living room wall.

Two pairs of eyes are gaping at me.

One amused, one not so much.

I’m not sure I’m handling things very well.

FIVE

Corey stalks out, grabbing a few of the larger pieces of broken laptop on the way and muttering something along the lines of “crazy bitch.” I flop to the floor.

What is wrong with me? I don’t do stuff like that! I’m now one of those women who would have to be subdued by police if the neighbors called up to complain about a domestic disturbance.

Penny is smiling at me. “Sis, I’m actually kind of proud of you.”

“Don’t be,” I reply morosely. “I need to be checked into a psychiatric ward and locked up.”

“No, you don’t. Do you remember when I broke up with whatshername? I was this crazy stalker for almost three months! But then one day I just woke up and realized she wasn’t worth my time.”

“I think you’ve forgotten she issued you with a restraining order, and that’s the real reason you had to stop stalking her.”

“Nah, I was coming to that conclusion already anyway. But my point is, we all become a bit unhinged when we feel betrayed. It’s normal.”

“Do you think Corey really was going to hook up with people he met online?”

“I don’t know. For your sake, I hope not. But it’s possible.”

“God, Penny! What if he already has, even when we were together?”

“At the very least, I don’t think he would have risked your health by being unsafe. I may not like him that much, but I know he’s not stupid. Anyway, there’s no use speculating until you can talk about it calmly, and I don’t think that’s going to happen for at least a few days. Maybe even weeks. So just give yourself time and don’t let your thoughts get too out of control. Just remember, I’m here if you need anything.”

“Where did it all go wrong, Pen? I mean, everything wasn’t always perfect, but I still thought life was pretty good. Corey and I did all that traveling after we got married, and we had a lot of fun. Then I guess our careers took over, but I just thought it was so we could save money for our future. Corey knew I wanted kids, and I thought he did too.” I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my forehead. “Now I’m questioning everything.”

“Hey, there’s no use analyzing every word Corey has ever said to see if you missed a sign. That really will drive you crazy. But I guess you could start considering your options.”

“You mean like filing for a divorce?”

“Maybe. I know it’s still early days, but those things take months. You don’t want to wait around for a year out of some misguided sense of decency and then realize you need to wait another six months before it’s finalized.”

“But I don’t want to be divorced!” I wail. “I want things to be like they were before yesterday.”

“Oh, Chrissie. You’re going to be fine. You’ve still got your job…”

“Actually, about that…” I fill Penny in on the fiasco at the office and her face falls into a pitying frown.

“I’m sure they’ll forgive you. You’ve been there forever. Okay. Let’s just take everything one step at a time. I’ll clean up the mess over there.” She points to the remains of the smashed laptop. “And you can put some coffee on.”

I stand up, feeling like I’ve aged a decade in the last twenty-four hours. I’ll just do what Penny tells me to do for now. That seems like the best solution.

While I wait for the coffee to percolate, I empty out my handbag.

I hold up the photo of me and Corey in Mexico to show her. “Look. We seemed so happy. Who knew if he was fantasizing about the cabana boy the whole time?”

“Stop tormenting yourself. Now come on, I don’t want to hear any more of this self-pity nonsense.”

I stare at the kitchen counter until the coffee is ready. After a moment, I pour some into a mug and spoon in three teaspoons of sugar and lots of cream. I’m giving myself permission to be indulgent, even if it
is
just with my coffee.

“Do you want me to make yours?” I ask half-heartedly.

“No. Maybe you should go lie down or something. Read a book or watch some TV.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“You have to do
something
to take your mind off things.”

She then seems to notice my cut hand, which still has the crumpled up Kleenex stuck to it. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

“Nothing. I cut it accidentally. And before you ask, no, I wasn’t trying to injure myself.”

“I wasn’t even thinking that, but you’ve mentioned
not
being suicidal twice now. Do I need to be worried?”

“No! Okay, I think I
will
go and lie down.”

I carry my coffee into my room and put it on the bedside table. I then throw myself backwards into the center of the bed and spread out like a starfish.

I feel empty. My brain is overloaded and I’m now experiencing the human equivalent of the blue screen of death.

I’m not sure how long I stay there staring at the ceiling, but at some point Penny knocks on the door and opens it a crack. “Chrissie? You have a phone call. Do you want to take it?”

“Who is it?”

“Kahlua.”

I wrinkle my brow. “I don’t know.”

She holds out the phone and mouths the words “you should”.

I take it from her. “Hello?”

Penny backs out quietly.

“Hey, Chrissie! Is this a bad time?”

Despite my mood, Kahlua’s trademark squeaky voice lifts my spirits a tiny bit. “Um, sort of. I’m actually on leave, so I think my boss will probably assign someone else to look after you until I return.”

“Oh no. Is everything okay? You’re not still sick, are you?”

I can’t even remember what she’s talking about. And then it clicks.

“You mean the stomach ache? No, no that’s all good now.”

“I’m glad. So how long are you going to be away?”

“I’m not sure,” I say honestly. “I’m sorry Kahlua. I’ve had some personal stuff happen and I’m not coping very well.”

“You poor thing. All right, well I’ll call the office directly and see what they suggest. You take care, okay?”

“I will. Thanks, Kahlua. I hope to talk to you again soon.”

I hang up and wonder if I really will talk to her again soon. I quite like Kahlua, and she deserves someone more focused than me right now. I am too messed up to even leave my room.

I crawl under the covers and close my eyes.

Maybe I’ll just stay here for a few days.

***

I actually do stay in my apartment for close to a week without seeing anyone apart from Penny. She makes sure I shower and eat, and she even calls the office to tell them I’m sick, but that I’m slowly getting better. However, I’m not sure I
am
making any progress. Most of the time I lie in bed or on the couch, staring at nothing. Sometimes I cry, but mostly I feel blank.

Corey doesn’t try to contact me, so I suppose our original agreement to only process for a couple of days was voided once I trashed his computer. And to be honest, I don’t even know what I would say to him. I think the best thing for us to do is give each other some space.

Six days after I turned into a hermit, someone knocks at the door. Penny has gone home to get more clothes, so I’m left wondering whether I have the energy to answer it or not. But after so much isolation, part of me is craving human contact aside from my sister.

I stumble to the door in my PJs and fling it open.

It’s a FedEx guy. With a package for me! I never get packages! Wow! What if someone has found out I’m a bit down in the dumps and has sent chocolates to make me feel better? This could be the universe’s way of saying “don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay”.

I rip open the padded bag and stare at its contents in confusion. It’s a circular music box containing a dancing ballerina and a very elaborate invitation written in calligraphy on a scroll. It takes a minute for its words to penetrate my brain.

Please join us in honoring Jennifer Fletcher for her baby shower, given with joy by Carmen Fletcher…blah blah blah…

I can’t read anymore.

“Are you kidding me?” I yell at the FedEx guy, who is still nearby.

He gives me a funny look and then hurries away.

I look at the scroll again in disbelief. Could the timing be any worse?

But then of course Jen would have no idea what’s going on. She was my best friend in high school and we lost touch when we went to college and she moved to LA. We recently reconnected on Facebook, but we haven’t met up in person for years – although I did know she was pregnant. She’s on her second marriage and already has a fifteen year old son from a previous relationship.

The shower isn’t until the end of September, but I can’t see myself making much headway in the disaster that is my life before then.

I think I’ll decline.

I put the invite in a drawer and then contemplate what to do with my day. I worry if I stay in bed for much longer, I’ll start developing bedsores, but the whole baby shower thing hasn’t exactly put me in a good mood.

I know! I’ll read the tabloids. They always cheer me up. I usually check them out as a kind of research. I keep an eye on Perry Tyler’s clients and then secretly delight in any belonging to our rivals when they do something stupid.

Like puking in the gutter out the front of a nightclub when there are cameras nearby.

Why did I have to remember that now?

I open up my phone and start browsing through the TMZ site. Ugh, boring. A rapper got arrested. The Kardashians are fighting. A sitcom star is promoting some fad diet.

And then I see something that catches my eye. It’s about Jack Dean and his newest girlfriend. Jack has done an interview where he talks about how in love he is with his new squeeze. Apparently he’s never felt like this before.

Ouch. How could he say something like that? Poor Kahlua. I wonder if she’s seen it yet.

Would it be inappropriate to call her? Maybe not if I phoned under the pretense of making sure her project was being handled properly.

I quickly call her number and wait. She answers on the second ring.

“This is Kahlua!”

“Oh, hi! It’s Chrissie from Perry Tyler. I just wanted to check in and see how everything was going. Is the team taking care of you?”

“Chrissie! It’s so lovely to hear from you. Yeah, everything is fine. But to be honest, I’d much rather deal with you. I really liked your approach, and…I don’t know…I just felt like we understood each other or something.”

I beam. It’s nice to feel appreciated.

“Who’s looking after you?”

“A woman called Quinn.”

“Oh, right. Quinn’s really good at what she does,” I assure her. She also has zero sense of humor.

“Do you know when you’re coming back? I hate to sound selfish, but if there is any way you can get reassigned to me, I would be really grateful.”

“I’ll call the office now and talk to them, okay?”

“Perfect! Yay! Keep me posted!”

I hang up, feeling a bit more positive. It’s probably time I went back to work soon anyway. My mortgage isn’t going to pay for itself.

I phone Linda’s line, but she doesn’t answer. I leave a message, asking her to call me as soon as possible, and let her know I can even return tomorrow if necessary. I would rather wait until Monday, but I need to look like I’m making an effort.

I then realize I forgot to ask Kahlua about Jack. She sounded happy enough, so either she hasn’t seen the article yet, or she doesn’t care. I hope it’s the latter. And if so, I aspire to be as cool as Kahlua.

***

The email arrives that afternoon. The timestamp says 4.59p.m. so I’m guessing Linda waited until the office was about to close so I wouldn’t be able to storm in and make another scene.

Dear Chrissie,

It is with deep regret that we are terminating your position within the company, effective immediately. We appreciate your years of service at Perry Tyler, but feel that in recent times your dedication to maintaining a professional standard of conduct has fallen below acceptable standards.

Taking into consideration the length of time you were with us, we would be happy to provide a reference for future employers.

If you wish to appeal your termination, please contact the human resources department at your convenience.

Good luck, and we wish you all the best.

Linda Noble.

The news catches me off guard, even though a tiny part of me must have known it was a possibility. Not many people get sent on leave after making a scene the way I did and get to return without consequences. I might consider an appeal on the grounds of temporary insanity, but in all my time at Perry Tyler, I never once saw anyone successfully return after being fired. I’m also not sure I could face everyone again after my little scene.

I reread the email another five times just to torture myself. I was there for fourteen years. It’s the only PR firm I’ve ever worked in, but because I’m still so overwhelmed from everything that happened with Corey, being let go doesn’t make me feel any worse than I already do. Although, that’s probably because it really isn’t possible to sink any lower.