I sat in my living room, watching a John Hughes movie that was on daytime cable, licking the back of the last bit of Cherry Garcia ice cream from a spoon. I had just gotten back from the doctor, where they drew blood and if it showed that my little white cells were beating the monster infection in my system, I could go back to work the following Monday. Already I was feeling much better. I wasn�t quite ansty or up to trying any of my Pilates DVDs, but I could sit upright without feeling nauseated and was able to stay awake long enough to watch an entire movie, minus the censored bits where Judd Nelson swears at Molly Ringwald.
I tipped back the last of the bottled spring water. I was probably feeling well enough to attempt a run to the grocery store later in the afternoon. I threw my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, next to the empty stew pot which had once contained a rather delicious batch of what hade to be homemade chicken soup. The stew pot wasn�t mine. I was pretty sure that it was my friend Jess�s. She had a key and probably found out that I hadn�t been feeling good when she got my automated out-of-office response to her daily emails. Which reminded me that I should send her a thank you card. Except that I had used all of my engraved stationery over Christmas and hadn�t reordered. I could just pick up a nice Hallmark card for her at the grocery store for when I returned her stock pot. I looked around for some scrap paper to make a list and found the menu from the deli who had delivered all of my Get Well staples for Micheal. Which reminds me� buy a thank you card for Michael too.
I bent over the counter and started to make a list, smiling to myself about how lucky I was to have such wonderful thoughtful friends. And Michael? Who knew that he�d come through� it really wasn�t like him. The fruit and spring water, yes, but he often commented how much he loved the Gwyneth Paltrow type of woman, sans curves. It seemed very unlike him that he would request that they send all of the croissants, ice cream, brownies and lovely little goodies that had enticed me to nibble even when I never wanted to think about eating ever again. I mean, Cherry Garcia? That stuff was probably four thousand calories. I could just hear him �Oh Lola, do you really think that�s a good idea?�
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I slowly rose and then looked down at the sweatshirt I was wearing.
It was my faded thin college sweatshirt. The one I had left at Bill�s cabin the last time I saw him.
�Mr. Mason�s office.� His secretary answered.
�Um�hello. May I speak with Mr. Mason please?�
�May I ask who is calling?�
�This is Cindy from Alderman Brant�s office.� My words were thick with falseness and I�m certain this was completely evident to her.
�I�m sorry, Cindy. He is out of the office this week.�
�Oh. Ok.� I mumbled.
�Is this urgent? I believe his flight will be coming in Friday afternoon, and he should be checking in for messages then. Otherwise can it wait until Monday?� She was so pleasant and lovely that I felt entirely stupid for lying to her.
�Um. No, that�s ok, I�ll check in with him then. Thank you Brenda.� I said, forgetting that she probably didn�t know any Cindys.
�You�re very welcome!� She chirped back.
Out of town. Boyfriend going out of town. That is what the deli delivery lady had said.
I dialed Michael.
�Michael Collins.� He answered, business first as usual.
�Hi Michael, this is Lauren.�
�Lola! Hey you! I�ve been thinking about you.� I could hear his smile through the phone.
�You have?�
�Absolutely! I�ve been sitting here working on this bastard of a case and every once in awhile when I need a break, my mind decides to think about lovely Lolitaaaaaaa.� He hummed the little song he would sing in college when he was feeling the need to copulate.
�Hard at it all week, have you?� I pushed.
�Well, you know how it goes. Once you dig into something like this, you have to stay at it. How was your week?� He said absentmindedly. I could hear him typing as we talked.
�Actually, pretty horrible. I�ve been sick and out of work.�
�Oh! That�s right! Geez, I'm sorry, I completely forgot. Still not over that thing yet? Wow� did they say what it was? Man, I�m glad I didn�t catch it! Sounds absolutely dreadful.�
We chatted briefly, both of us half-interested in the conversation. Finally, I explained that my throat was feeling very sore and I would talk to him later. He made me promise that we�d see each other when I was �fully recovered�. I agreed and then hung up the phone.
Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. That one word, over and over, resounding in my head until I got dizzy with the implications and went to bed, unable to believe that I could ever be so completely credulous.
