The two of them wandered away from me, but not before I heard Greg mutter, “I already had a job lined up before graduation,” to which Dad laughed and replied, “Yeah, well, you’re the go-getter.”
Five years later, I’m still in Kansas City. I’ve become a seemingly permanent fixture in this temporary gig of mine, but I’m okay with my life. Job counseling isn’t sexy, but it’s a paycheck.
The first time Colin noticed my diploma on the wall, he said, “So, you display your degree, because…?”
Originally as a joke, I thought but didn’t say. Instead, I said, “Most people don’t read it, so it lends an air of authority. If nothing else, it proves I saw something through to the end, no matter how irrelevant it’s turned out to be.”
“Well, I think it’s brilliant,” he said, licking his lips and approaching my desk once more. “Truly. I’m a bit of a film buff, myself.”
I was willing to leave it at that, but he winced. “Oh, blimey. That sounded quite patronizing, didn’t it? You probably have more film knowledge in your little finger than I do in my entire— wherever that information is stored. Oh, bollocks. I’m making a real pig’s ear of this. Never mind. I’ll simply, er, take my referral and go now.”
That’s when, to my horror, I started laughing.
He nervously joined in.
Soon, we were both wheezing and wiping tears from our eyes and faces. When the hysterics subsided, I threw out, half-joking, “You should see my film collection sometime.” As soon as the invitation was out, I regretted it. Blushing, I held out the referral card to him. “Never mind. Here. I’m sorry.”
“No! I’d love to see it. Maybe with some other people around, though. For your safety, of course. Because—I say this as a former bobby—it’s probably not wise to invite strange men to your house. I’m the strangest of strange men. My mum says so.”
Relieved, I laughed. Three days later, he came over and, with Rae as a chaperon, stood in awe in the middle of my “movie room.” He borrowed three films—and promptly returned them less than a week later. We’ve been friends ever since.
Today, nearly three years after that, I fill out the last two blanks on the referral card, attempting to make my horrible penmanship legible, and sign it with a flourish before sliding it across my desk.
He takes the two steps required to arrive in front of me and plucks the cardstock square from the surface.
“Right. Thanks.”
I nod while clicking my pen. “No problem. If that doesn’t work out for whatever reason, you know there’s plenty where that came from. You could supplement those hours gift wrapping. There’s a kiosk for that at the mall, too, and they’re hiring.”
He tucks the card into his back pocket. “There’s a reason every gift I’ve ever given you was in a bag. The things I wrap look like they come from someone without opposable thumbs.”
I laugh at his apt description but stop short when he suddenly slaps his forehead and says, “Oh, bloody hell. I’ve moaned on and on about my life and didn’t leave time to ask you about that party you attended with Rae! I’m still a bit miffed she didn’t ask me, since we’re so close, and all.”
Considering his barely civil relationship with Rae, the mental image of him at that particular event with her cracks me up. “Um, you dodged a dull evening. Other than dancing with the team’s quarterback, Jet Knox, and giving him my phone number when he asked for it, it was a snooze-fest.”
He snaps his fingers. “Pity. I was all set to hear some grand tales. But perhaps something will come of the exchange of digits?”
Scoffing, I reply, “Doubt it very seriously. It’s been weeks, but I’ve heard nothing. There was no exchange. My phone number only, to be lost forever in a jumble of women’s numbers in his phone, I’m sure.”
“We need to work on your sense of romance.”
“Romance only happens in the movies.”
Conscious of the time and my next appointment waiting, I stand and circle my desk to give him one of the three hugs he claims he needs each day, “for emotional stability,” and walk him out. “Let me know how it goes at the mall. I especially need an update on the Santa hat situation.” Not wanting to give my waiting clients any ideas about hugs being part of the standard service, I let him go before I open my door. Ringing phones and outer-office chatter greet us.
“I will,” he says. “Well, I’ll try. That’s a good enough promise, right?”
From him, yes, considering he has an aversion to texting I haven’t been able to figure out.
He shakes my hand, mock formally.
Over his shoulder, I see my next client, another repeat customer. Frequently visiting my office is where Vanessa’s resemblance to Colin ends, unfortunately.
I feel a headache coming on.
Three
Christmas Plans
Vanessa wasn’t my last headache of the day, by far. The headaches didn’t stop when I left work, either. The latest obstacle to my achieving a relaxing evening at home is a bumper-to-bumper standstill traffic jam on the interstate. And, to make this experience more delightful, my brother’s ringtone, “Relax” by Frankie Goes to Hollywood, interrupts my fantasies of red wine and mindless television.
Since I may as well be sitting in a parking lot, it’s perfectly safe to answer the call. I’m not happy about answering, but I know my brother well enough to know he’ll keep calling until I do. Plus, I’m that bored.
“Gregory,” I greet him drolly.
“Hey, Mo. Got a second?”
“From the looks of things, I have several. What’s up?”
“I wanted to talk to you about Christmas.”
Barely, I stifle a groan.
Mom and Dad are finally taking the cruise they threaten to take every year. While I’m happy for them, their plans leave me at
