Back Talk (15 page)

“Play me something.”

“Sure. Do you want a beer?” Hilton opened her dorm fridge and peered inside. There were four Rolling Rocks and one Amstel Light.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think between my thumb and the margaritas I’ve got enough going on trying to get home.”

“You relinquished the right to drive after your third margarita.”

“Are you making me hand over my car keys?” Anne took the beer Hilton handed her.

“I still have them.”

“That’s right.” Anne took a sip of beer.

“You can have the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.” Hilton studied her record piles looking for just the right tune.

“Hilton, this bed is enormous. I think the three of us can find room enough to sleep. I promise not to seduce you.”

“I didn’t mean that.” Hilton blushed.

“Let’s have a nightcap and call it an evening,” Anne said.

“I’ll go get a bowl of ice for your hand. Remember, the doctor said you’re supposed to ice it to keep the swelling down.”

“You know, it’s funny he didn’t mention margaritas, salsa or cigars. Those activities have done wonders as well.”

“You’re a terrible patient,” Hilton said. She put on a Van Morrison record and went back to the house.

The stereo was turned off and Jessie and Veronica were nowhere in sight. Hilton was poking around in the freezer in search of ice when she heard Liz and Melissa in the hallway.

“I don’t think it’s such a bad idea,” Liz said gently.

“I just think if I remove myself from my normal surroundings I won’t think about her,” Melissa said.

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“I’d love for you to stay. We’ve got extra linens. We could set you up in my room and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

There was silence.

“Or we could both sleep in your room,” Melissa suggested.

“If you’d like.”

Then they were quiet. Hilton smiled. She imagined Liz’s face as she tried to mask her fear and desire. Hilton wondered how successful she was.

When she got back to the cottage Anne had fallen asleep.

Hilton removed her shoes and pulled the comforter over her. She turned the record player off. Shannon was snoring slightly. Hilton put the bowl of ice on Anne’s side of the bed then looked at Anne for a moment. She could almost imagine them doing this all the time. She suppressed the urge to curl up next to her and stroke her cheek and then kiss her softly on the lips. She sighed, thinking, not in this lifetime. It was like the pretend game she played as a child where her mother was alive and her father was nice and they all lived in blissful communion. Her brow wrinkled in consternation and she turned off the light.

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Hilton was nowhere to be found in the morning when Anne woke up. She leaned over and put her face on Hilton’s pillow. It smelled like her. She remembered last night and how pleasant and oddly seductive it was to sleep next to someone you weren’t supposed to touch. She lay back on her side of the bed and gazed at the ceiling as the morning light filtered through the curtains. Her thumb was throbbing and she looked at the now melted bowl of ice. The bedside clock read seven.

She tried to stay still for a moment longer before the whirlwind of the day came crashing through her mind. She held out as long as she could. Then she got up and began her frantic search for information. There was no radio, no television and no computer in the cottage. She had to pee so she opted for bathroom time and then she would wander up to the house and get a cup of coffee.

Anne wondered if Hilton had left so they wouldn’t be forced to wake up together or if something had happened in the house.

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Hilton had obviously put out a washcloth, a bar of soap and a toothbrush still in its wrapper, complete with a tiny tube of tooth-paste. All appeared to have been lifted from a hotel. Anne smiled, remembering her own college days when anything complimentary came home as future provisions. Something warm and wet licked her ankle. She patted Shannon’s head. “Good morning,” she said.

Shannon sighed heavily and went to lay on the bath mat. She fell back asleep as Anne washed up.

Once tidied she made her way to the house. The now almost constant cloud cover had small breaks in it, but it looked like the day was set for rain. She slipped in the back door and found Hilton getting a tray together.

Hilton looked up and smiled. “You’re supposed to still be asleep so I could bring you coffee in bed.”

“Really? I could go back.”

“You better. We’ve got time and I did some research for you on opposable thumbs for the show. You know you’re going to go there.”

“You mean my opening monologue?” Anne queried. She greedily eyed the corner hutch, noticing it contained a laptop and a printer. “May I?”

“Of course,” Hilton handed her a stack of Internet documents.

Anne took the stack of papers and leafed through them. “Very good.” She hit the home page on the computer to pick up the latest news.

“It’s kind of slow today. The Dow is up two points and it’s going to rain.”

“Like that’s news,” Anne said. She typed in a couple of key-words until she contented herself with the fact that nothing truly amazing had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

“Shall we go to the cottage?” Hilton asked as she picked up the tray with the carafe, cups, cream and sugar.

“Please. I’m glad it’s going to be a comedy show today. I don’t feel like doing hard news.”

There was giggling in the hallway. Jessie and Veronica appeared in the kitchen wrapped up in each other’s arms.

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“Veronica?” Anne said, stunned.

“Anne, what are you doing here?” Veronica said, trying to straighten herself out. Her shirt was badly wrinkled and her always perfect hair was disheveled. Anne had never seen her look so flus-tered.

“I’m having coffee with Hilton and going over some notes for today’s show,” Anne said. She waved the stack of papers as proof.

She winked at Hilton.

“Well, of course. Jessie and I were just on our way out for breakfast.” She yanked Jessie’s hand. “I’ll see you at work.”

“Sure, great. Jessie, don’t make her late for work,” Anne said.

She loved to tease Veronica and this morning was going to give her months of ammunition. Veronica had been the radio show’s producer for five years. This was as social as the two of them had ever gotten. Anne wasn’t certain she liked it. Veronica was a master manipulator and the closer together their lives got the more control she would try to exert.

It was Anne and Hilton’s turn to giggle on the way back to the cottage.

“Did you see the look on her face?” Anne said.

“I don’t think it even occurred to her that you stayed here as well.”

“That’s the best part.”

Some patches of sun managed to burst forth from the clouds, making the morning seem almost sunny and crisp. The last days of fall were hanging on with a vigor unlike itself. The rains of winter usually had killed it off by now.

When they got to the cottage Shannon was finally awake and wanted to go out. Anne watched as she squatted to pee and then walked the entire perimeter of the yard. She was apparently checking to make sure nothing had infiltrated her domain as she sniffed the ground and rustled about the fallen leaves.

“She does that every morning. That’s the comforting thing about dogs, they like to do the same thing everyday. They love routine.” Hilton set the tray down on one of the stacks of records.

“If only people found that comforting instead of boring,” Anne 111

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noted. She took the cup Hilton offered her and then went to sit on the bed. She pulled up the pillows and started to peruse the articles Hilton had pulled off the Internet.

“This is Starbucks house blend and it’s kind of stiff. Do you want cream or sugar?” Hilton asked as she poured the coffee.

“A little cream would be good,” Anne said.

Hilton handed her a cup. Anne attempted to hold and drink out of her coffee mug with her left hand. The first sip got her neurons jolting and the sickening whirlwind she experienced earlier became the challenge of the day. She was ready to become Seattle’s morning talk show host. She wondered if coffee was somehow connected to her personality disorder of wanting to be herself but not wanting herself. Some mornings she didn’t want to be Anne Counterman and then she had coffee and was eager to take on whatever crap the world was dishing.

“Do you need a straw?”

“No, I’ve got it,” Anne said. “I’m thinking being ambidextrous might be a good thing. Perhaps I’ll start the monologue with that.”

“Yeah, then you can move into the story of dolphins sponta-neously sprouting thumbs and feeling suicidal at their newfound humanity.” Hilton sat down next to her and the bed began to sway.

“And the cats and dogs getting thumb implants and what they’d be capable of,” Anne said holding her coffee tightly and waiting for the waterbed to stop moving. “That almost frightens me.”

“Shannon would probably want to drive a car or something,”

Hilton said. She took a sip of coffee.

Anne finished hers. “Okay, I’d better get going. Lord only knows how long it’ll take me to get dressed.”

“Call me if you need help.”

Shannon had come back in. Anne patted her on the head distractedly. “I had a really nice time last night. I mean, it was a lot of fun.”

“So did I.” Hilton got up and gave her a quick hug.

Anne tried not to blush and then left. Once outside she thought she might be having a hot flash. She couldn’t possibly being going 112

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through menopause. She knew what it was, but standing outside Hilton’s cottage feeling dumbstruck was not the place to analyze her feeling. She got in her car and called Gerald. “Are you alone?”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I need to talk to you right now.” She didn’t want her need to be so apparent but her voice cracked and he no doubt knew she was scared.

“Yes, Philip went in early. Why don’t you come over and we’ll talk.”

“I’ll be there in ten.” She started the car and threw it into drive, glad that it was her left thumb and not her right that was impaired.

“Don’t get on the expressway,” Gerald advised. “Traffic.”

“I’m not stupid,” she said testily.

“Anne, whatever this is we can work it out, okay?”

“Yes, ‘bye.” She clicked off and mentally made a quick map of the best side streets to take to get to his house. She didn’t know what exactly she wanted to say to him, but she needed his calming influence and rational way of looking at a situation. He could break down any crisis into manageable pieces that could be systemati-cally dealt with. She missed that about him.

She turned on the radio, hoping for some national news. As she passed through the residential neighborhoods she saw the children dressed up in their Halloween costumes going to school. She could hardly believe that Hilton had only been in her life since the middle of September, that Veronica had given her her one-month pin on Columbus Day, and now here it was Halloween already.

Could she have fallen in love in six weeks? Was it a symptom of lust? She hadn’t been intimate with anyone in the year since she’d divorced Gerald. She was not a hot-to-trot kind of woman. It must be love. Gerald would know how to sort out this muddle. She turned her attention to the news.

Ten minutes later she arrived at the tasteful yellow and white bungalow that Gerald shared with Philip. He was trying to do his tie and it wasn’t going well. “I hate when he leaves early,” he said as he let her in. He had on a starched white shirt with his good navy 113

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suit. Must be a big day at the office, some marketing proposal most likely, she thought.

“I’d offer to help but I’m kind of out of commission,” Anne said, holding up her bandaged thumb.

“What happened?”

“Minor accident with a staple gun.”

“Ouch. How did you do that?” he asked.

“Volunteer work,” she replied, tucking her hands behind her.

She wasn’t here to talk about her thumb.

“So what’s on your mind?” he asked.

“I want to know how you knew you were in love with Philip?”

She paced across the living room. It was already after eight and she was going to be late, but she needed to know. She wandered over to the fireplace mantel and picked up a small carved wooden knick-knack. It was an old habit of hers and she knew Gerald would see right through it. She was trying to be nonchalant and avoid his gaze.

“Anne, what is this really about?”

She picked up a silver-framed picture of her and Gerald on their wedding day. She had that beautiful yet chic white dress on and he looked smart in his gray tux. His dark hair was longer then and he’d somehow tamed his cowlick that day. With his chiseled good looks, he could have been a Calvin Klein model. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle with love and they both looked happy. “He lets you keep that?” She looked at him, puzzled.

“Philip understands that you are an important part of my life.

So tell me what’s going on.” He glanced at his Rolex.

“There’s this person who I think I have feelings for and this is all new for me, so I wanted to know how you know when you’re truly in love and it’s not just, you know, nether region stuff.”

“Don’t you remember?” he teased.

“With you it was different.”

“Why?”

“It seemed I knew you forever, and there wasn’t a time when I didn’t love you,” she said. She took another look at the photograph 114

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and then set it back down. She attempted to stick her hands in her pockets and then remembered her thumb, which was still throbbing.

“Let me get us a cup of coffee and we’ll talk,” he said.

“Please.”

He returned with a stainless steel carafe and two cups and set them on the coffee table. Anne smiled, remembering that he had always made a first pot of coffee and then a second, which he put in a carafe in case he wanted more later. He was such a planner. She never did anything just in case.