Single Player: Humor, Love, Breast Cancer and a Gaming Girl... (18 page)

Okay, I know that was exciting but wait until you hear what happens next! So, I’m sitting outside at a red metal table enjoying all my newfound outdoorsiness when a friend from high school comes strolling by. And guess who it is? JACK! You know, Asperger’s Jack! And he said we’d stop being friends! HA!

“Hey Jack,” I say grabbing at his elbow as he reaches to open the door behind me.

“Hey…? Lady?” No way do I look ladyish at twenty six.

“Jack, it’s me. Cecilia St. May. CeeCee?” After I’m done reintroducing myself his eyes light up and a huge grin spreads across his now fuller cheeks. 

“CeeCee. Where’s Ashton? Are you two married yet?”  Whoa. Slow your roll big guy.

“You always were funny Jack. Hate to disappoint you but to answer your question, Ashton lives in Arizona and I’m here so, no. No marriage. What about you? What are you up to these days?” Another reason I’ve discovered for going out? Possible run-ins with old friends.

“I graduated from college last year and recently passed all the sections of the Uniform CPA Examination that will allow me to get a job in accounting. I am currently searching for work. Would you like a card? My father said I should give them to everyone I know and to those I meet as well in hopes of securing a list of potential clients or maybe perhaps even a future employer.” 

“I’d love one, thank you. Matter of fact, I’m starting a business with a friend and we may be able to use your services. How fortuitous that I saw you today!” I stand to give him a hug and am quickly reminded that he doesn’t like the whole body contact thing as he sticks his hand out stiffly for a firm shake instead. We do an awkward dance as he tries to avoid the hug that’s coming at him full throttle but it’s just too damn late to stop the forward trajectory of my body. 

“Humph,” he says as his hand comes to rest on my apparently grotesque breast. This would appear to be his first experience with such an intimate part of the female anatomy because he involuntarily and only momentarily squeezes it, probably out of curiosity, before jumping back as if he’s just handled a tarantula instead of my tiny, soft, under-touched breast.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” I repeat over and over trying to calm him down, but I’m one boob-squeeze too late for calm. He’s fifteen different shades of crimson and stuttering out, “I didn’t mean to squeeze your breast.  Somehow it fell into my hand and I lost control of my fingers. They… they… just did that!” He’s horrified with his hand, as if this part of his anatomy has suddenly begun to move on its own via some kind of testosterone induced reflex. 

“Hey, it’s okay really. I’m going to go. Honestly Jack.  My breast is fine, I promise. No harm done. Actually, I’ve done a lot of research on breast health (true story) and believe it or not, breast massage is really great for the tissue, so more than likely you’ve just improved my health!” While I continue to talk he’s slowly backing away from me, shaking his head back and forth in a ‘no, go away’ fashion and so I oblige him by holding up his card and waving my goodbye, “I’ll be in touch (bad word choice), thanks for the card.”

Mortified by the scene that just went down with Jack I pop on my trusty Blackbird countdown music, slide in my earplugs and try to continue my walk to Connor’s in peace. Lately I’m finding that it’s not so much the counting that soothes me anymore but instead it’s hearing Ashton’s melodic, familiar voice. 

As I walk I try to imagine what he’d tell me to do today when I finally meet my mom. Never once did I imagine doing this without him by my side. Honestly, I never imagined doing much of anything without him by my side. Yet, here I am at McDonald’s.

Twenty minutes later I’m stunned when I round the corner of my brother’s street and see all the new development that surrounds me. He bought in this neighborhood three years ago because he was sold on the developers’ plans to make it an all inclusive type of community. Well it looks like those plans panned out.

Directly across the street from Connor’s house there’s a popular coffee house, a number of restaurants with indoor/outdoor seating and several of the cute boutiques that Liddy mentioned selling her designs to. My excitement builds as I get closer. I can’t wait to see the surprise on my brothers face when he opens the door and sees me standing there. The only thing that slows me down is the thought of Her… The Her who abandoned her children…

***

As I’m standing on the corner mulling over the first words  I’ll ever say to this elusive mother/convict, Connor’s bright red front door swings open and shocks me from my contemplation. It’s as if a high glossed, latex painted stop sign just popped out of nowhere to warn me of an impending disaster. All I can hope is that whatever’s about to happen, it doesn’t have the capacity to disrupt me during this infant stage of liberty I find myself in. 

It feels as if my feet are being swallowed whole by the concrete as I stand immobilized and watchful as a slow motion, day-trippin’ daydream begins to play out before my twitchy eyes. I’m mesmerized as the woman who could only be described as the mother to my daughter steps through the threshold of my brother’s home and out into the world I’m stranded in.  Suddenly I’m sharing the same sun as the woman who brought me into the world and I will never wonder what she looks like again…  She’s the me to my her.

Master, with his uncanny ability to decipher the sudden drop in my blood pressure, instantly transforms himself into a well-trained, certified, psychiatric service dog.  Though it looks as if he’s merely smelling my butt, he’s not. In actuality, he’s cleverly using his sniffer to forcefully prod me along and change the trajectory of my current path. To his dismay though, my little body is stronger than it appears and I’m able to overcome the prod and hold firm to my spot, where I’m being mesmerized by the petite, carefree woman strolling cozily beside Liddy.

With only four house lengths between us I’m able to make out our many similarities without needing the glasses I sometimes wear (I haven’t needed them because I’m near-sighted and I never have far to look in my home).  She looks to be about my height, known by Ashton as “knee-high,” and displays my coloring in every visible part of her body; hair, eyes and skin. And looky there, I now have visual verification of where I get my small breasts from thus forever putting to rest the theory that at some point she was in either Victoria’s Secret or Playboy because she sure as heck has no secrets to hide. The image I spent a lifetime creating of her is officially blown to smithereens but, I suppose the whole convict thing should’ve shored that one up. 

My mind is struggling to make sense of what I’m seeing. The internal GPS I often use as my guide in life is being confronted with a bright yellow road block sign and it’s now stuck chanting the imbedded catch phrase… “recalculating, recalculating….”. The only problem is I can’t, I CAN’T RE-ANYTHING because before my DNA-implanted blues eyes is her,
MY
mother.

How can she look so pretty? So happy? So, not a convict? Just as I’m falling into my well-practiced sit Master saves the day and slides himself through my legs, carting me off piggy-back style away from the scene before me. Since he’s never had any real training before, his service skills are a little… questionable, as is obvious by the way I’m laid out over the top of his spine, drifting to the side. 

“STOP! MASTER! STOP NOW!” I shout excitedly while holding tight to his collar. I look up and thank the gods for watching over me when I see that they’re already behind the closed glass door thus missing my embarrassing, unrehearsed production of dog back riding… Oh my days…

Once we’re a safe distance away Master comes to a complete stop and slowly looks over his shoulder into my incensed eyes. I’m giving him my best ‘you’re not the boss of me’ eyes and he responds with the  ever popular ‘you’d better pull it together right this minute young lady or we’re going home’ eyes. It’s possible I’ve just lost this battle and had it handed to me by my dog, outside, on the sidewalk, for the entire world to see. Can I get an, Em... bar… ass… ing! 

Before he has the chance to make the decision for me, I leap from his furry back and sprint toward the shiny front door. Only seconds behind, I hear when he decides to take chase. He’s barking away in a furious cadence that sounds a little something like, “bad, bad, no, no, bad, bad, no, no!”  But I can’t bring myself to stop and instead continue forward, dashing toward the cause of my distress. He’s positive I have zero survival instincts. To be fair, he’s probably correct.

Banging on the door with my sweaty fist I’m simultaneously scanning the area across the street and shushing my out of control dog desperate to be let inside before The Mom makes another appearance. I cannot handle her seeing me for the first time while I’m exposing this much of my crazy. She’s supposed to be the crazy one, not me. I wasn’t in prison. Come to think of it, I have been in a kind of self-imposed prison but AGH! There’s no time for self reflection at the moment, I need in and I need in NOW!

“CONNOR! CONNOR! CONNNNNNNOR!” Yep, I’m wildly yelling. Hope there’s no bylaws about hysterical women beating down doors in that fancy home owner’s agreement he had to sign in order to live in such a swanky little community.

“HOLY CRAP! I’m coming!” I hear him yell as he makes his way to the red door of doom. Having no clue it’s his nut-job sister on the other side (why would he) he swings it open and looks ready to give-it to whoever his over-eager, unannounced visitor is. 

“You don’t have to be so…” the door swings out and he’s stunned mute the moment he sees that it’s me.  “CeeCee, are you okay?” He grabs me and pulls me inside, frantically looking around for the murderer that’s sure to have chased me here because how else could he possibly explain my presence on his doorstep without the threat of my imminent death.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Can Master Chief and I have some water please?” Connor holds me out by my shoulders, nervously inspecting me looking for the machete that’s sure to be stuck in my back before he can reply. 

“Of course you, dingbat! Come in here. I don’t understand what’s happening right now. How are you here? Who brought you?” 

“We walked. I’ve decided to get better and, well, somehow after the trial run I took on the porch last night, I just up and made the leap to walking here. Listen, no one’s more surprised by this than me, unless you count Master, he’s freaking the freak out.” The entire time I’m talking I can see Connor struggling to understand my shocking switch from inside CeeCee to outside CeeCee. 

“You know mom’s here, right? I mean, she’s staying with us. She and Liddy will be back any minute and unless you’re prepared for a very real mom encounter you’ve got to get out of here. I can’t believe I’m telling you that you have to go when all I want is for you to stay. This is amazing Cee, I’m so proud of you.”

Finally, he stops talking long enough to pull me into his shaking arms where he squeezes me so tight that I feel as if a boa has snaked itself around my small body forcing the air to hiss from me like I’m some sort of human deflating balloon. 

After a moment he hears my wheezing, let’s go and says, “Sorry, sorry. Okay, talk. And remember, you only have a minute before they’re back.”

I catch my breath as his dark eyes lock on my light ones and I tell him what took place outside only a moment ago.

“I saw her, when she and Liddy came out. Master and I were coming around the corner and your door opened and there she was. I won’t lie, I kinda freaked out, but then Master kinda freaked out because I was freaking out and well, I ran here like a lunatic once they were gone where I then proceeded to freak you out. This has been one crazy, freaking morning.”

“That’s one way of saying it. But listen, as much as I want to talk to you about everything that’s happened to bring you here in the last twenty-four hours you really need to decide if you want to meet her… and now. You should also know that she’s dying to meet you. I don’t know if that will make any difference in your decision, but it’s important for you to have all the information before you make your mind up.”

“She actually said she’s dying to meet me?” I’m crying.  Going outdoors has turned me into a sap. This point will go on the negative side for the outdoors and noted in my journal as soon as I get home.

“Of course she is. She’s your mom. She’s not what you think Cee. She’s had a rough time of it and wants more than anything to make a family out of the three of us.” He stops talking for a moment as his gaze settles on the door over my shoulder.

“Well, I guess you and her will talk sooner than you expected because they’re back,” before he finishes saying back, the door swings open and Liddy walks through looking as carefree as ever before she stops dead in her tracks at the sight of me, tripping our mother in the process. 

She straightens herself while laughing off her fumble and when she’s upright again our eyes lock and we’re instantly involved in an Olympic-trial worthy standoff of who can stare the hardest and longest without blinking.  My first thought is, ‘she’s beautiful’ followed immediately by ‘and she’s my mom’ but unfortunately those are not the words I lead with.

“You have small boobs.” Yep, those are the very first words I choose to speak aloud to my mom. Seeing that she never had a chance to hear me speak before today I’m doing a bang up job of showing her my high level of intellect. I hope she thinks it’s cute or maybe even endearing, because there’s not a first-word do-over that I’m aware of.             

“I do. So do you,” she’s smiling and tears are suddenly streaming from her crystal blue eyes even though there is no doubt in my mind that this is the weirdest first conversation ever spoken between two people. Someone call Guinness.