Rocket to the Moon
Chapter Twenty Six
The Simple Things
…
Arnold nods wholeheartedly when I tell him there won't be theatre today. I chortle to myself. It seems that having work on Sunday is easier to stomach than spending two hours at the theatre with me. I should feel offended.
"It'd only take an hour or two after all." He assures me.
I nod. I can't blame him. The evening is starting to sound… exciting… for the first time. I wonder if 'exciting' is a suitable adjective for what is coming in. I lower my sight to prevent that the playful smile that is starting to form in my lips is seen by him.
"Dick?" he says and my heart skips a beat. I smile nervously without caring if he sees me now. "We'll be there in a few minutes…. It's not necessary. We're actually pretty close to the office…" he pauses "Oh… alright… no, no problem at all, just give me your…" he turns to me and mimic writing "Alright…" I don't know how I did it, but I produced a pen and paper in a second; like magic. 'I was born for this'. I almost giggle as I write down his address. It's not necessary to write it down actually, since it's one of those things you know you won't forget anytime soon... or never.
. . .
Fifteen minutes later we're standing in front of a small building almost lost between The Plaza and another high structure. I can't believe I'm here! Out of all the places in the city I pictured him living in, I never thought he'd live right here: with Central Park at its doorstep and those beautiful horse carriages just across the street. I've been here a thousand times before and never guessed it! I turn around. The city seems more luminous. Mother Nature is winking down at me, I can feel it. Or maybe it's just that the anticipation makes me see everything with warmer eyes.
Arnold promised in our way up here that he'd make up for this. 'You already did' I wanted to say, but just by thinking what he'd say if he'd know all what is going on in my head I feel bad; I feel guilty, really! I think I'm going crazy. But seriously – I think as I smile demurely to the concierge and to an old lady who is going out - I really OWE Arnold a lot. I know we got the support to 'Eyes for US' because of him. We got to know and deal with all these rich people because of him. I get to know this luxurious and extremely interesting world because of him; and over it all, I owe him that I'm about to meet the man I've been head over heels for since last few months.
Alright, now I need to stay calm and breathe deeply.
We're getting up; they're only six floors. I really think my heart stopped beating… Is everything happening with such unnerving slowness on purpose? Every second seems to take forever. The noises from the elevator, the opening doors, the marble walls that reflect our shadows, the tiled floor that echoes our steps, Arnold's nervousness…
"Why are you so nervous?" I ask him while we're still in the hallway. Arnold had already told me the reason of the haste. Dick is taking a plane at ten o'clock and he needs his help with a contract.
Arnold turns down at me before replying in low voice. "I don't like this rush. It makes me think Dick is moody. Look-" he stops suddenly, taking my arm. "I could as well check the contract tomorrow morning, you know, and send it to him when ready, but-" He hesitates, twisting his lips.
"Dick is fussy?" I offer in sight of his vacillation.
"You don't know the half of it…" he chortles. "He's obsessive," he mouths the last word.
"Shouldn't you have said no, maybe?"
He grumbles. "It's not that easy."
"Why not?"
"Because it'd be worst. If he called me it's because he thinks he really needs my help. " Arnold looks quite uncomfortable, "And believe it or not, the easiest way to get out of this is getting along. It's just that I'm just sorry you got caught into this."
"Don't worry." I say patting his hand. He nods and we start to walk again.
"He might be difficult," Arnold warns, looking sideways at me. I laugh softly, dismissing him.
"He's asking you a favor. He should be thankful, not grumpy."
I hear him mumbling under his breath "I hope you're right."
I also take an intake as he rings the bell. I focus on my breathing as we wait until we heard his footsteps on the other side, and then the door being unlocked in three different spots. Arnold chortles to himself and squeezes my hand just before the door opens revealing our host. I give his hand a squeeze too, but mine is for support. I'm afraid I'll faint if I don't cling to him.
It all happened really quickly. I thought it'd be more like in the movies, when you feel the slow motion, but it's not the case. Before I realize we've been introduced and we're stepping into his place. Leaving formalities behind they start to talk about the matter at hand and I fall behind as they walk down the hall.
I think it's when I started breathing again. I can believe I just shook his hand and he smiled down to me! I can't believe his hand brushed mine when I handed him my coat! Now I'm standing by the entrance of his studio as I observe him from afar while I pretend to be admiring the place. He's really tall; I think as I see his lean frame inclined over the heavy desk where Arnold is sitting at. I've seen him only four times before and I can describe every one of them in detail – once at the Ball and three at the office later, when I was over, but never this close, and never –of course- we'd been introduced properly.
I doubt about staying here. I don't want to impose so I look around with curiosity and then go out to explore the place, caressing the surfaces that I meet on my way. His house is just as I expected it to be; clean, spacious, with high ceilings and refined though –I didn't expect this- austere decoration. Its neutral colored walls and dark hardwood floors contrast with the luminosity of the picture window that covers the entire front wall. As a moth to the flame, I feel attracted to it. I can't believe the sight as I look ahead. Even when it's late fall and it's already dark, you can still make out the few red and yellow colored leaves in the mostly bare trees. The beautiful warm lights of Central Park, the Pond, the Grand Army Plaza and the lively city down there make me sigh. It's not raining anymore and the artificially illuminated skies made me feel that I was meant to see this sight.
Even when I know I can't see them from this spot, I direct my sight to the studio's door anyway. Their voices tell me they are still busy. How long it would take, I wonder; how long do I have. Arnold said it'd be about an hour or so. I sigh deeply. I still can't believe I'm here; in this handsome apartment overlooking Central Park that belongs to no other than Richard T. Mueller. I giggle inwardly. I read his full name on the diploma hanging from his studio's wall. He's a Northwestern University graduate; an Industrial Engineer none the less. That would explain the bunch of fat books and Toyota Production System qualifications all over the place.
I titter again and decide to continue my exploration. I don't really think I'd ever had the chance to do it once again, and definitively, sitting down in the couch and checking my cellphone would be a waste of the opportunity. I bit my lip thinking how much I'd enjoy recounting this entire adventure to Brenda. She'd be green with envy! Oh God, that'll be fun!
.
As I leave my handbag on the couch and walk around the place again I start to focus in the decoration. A beautifully decorated Christmas tree in the left corner is the first thing that calls my attention. I frown because even when it's dark, its lights are off. Just after the tree there's a massive built-in walnut cabinetry surrounding the fireplace that covers one of the walls and that's filled with drawers, a hidden TV and a few decorative figures. Business and car magazines are carefully piled in one of the lower shelves. The rest of the sparse furniture in the room, including sofas and couches, -or the dinner table in the next room - are tucked against the walls, leaving the ample center of the pieces cleared. Everything is so… aligned, neat, symmetrical. Not a coffee table or a carpet messing the center of the room; not an ornament that doesn't match its pair. I frown. The paintings hanging from the walls are kind of somber. A few photographs on top of a corner table call my attention and I walk over to see them: Henry, an old lady that looks like she could be his late wife, another blonde woman who's clearly Dick's mother, and Helga Pataki are in them. I move on but not before smacking Helga's face with my fingertip.
I curse silently. The photo fell over making a loud noise and I hurry to rearrange them. I should know it wasn't that easy to get rid of that blonde witch. I walk to the kitchen then, all covered in dark walnut and white marble, backsplash included. It's spotless; I wonder if someone has ever cooked in here. Over the wall that leads to the kitchen there is a lithograph describing a cute countryside scene. It's the only painting I could relate to. My parents' house in Pennsylvania is full of them.
After a quick check on the bathroom –covered in more of that white marble- I go back to the picture window. The sight should be beautiful at sunlight, I think; in spring, or summer, or...
"Until a few days ago it was a beautiful sight to see, you know?" I close my eyes as a shiver runs through my spine. That voice! "The fall foliage at its best."
"I can only imagine." I utter softly as I turn to see him. He's looking ahead but then turns down and smiles to me. My stomach jumps. Pearl white perfect teeth, thin lips, square jaw, hooded eyes. He's got hard features and the type of an antihero, I know; but I can't help but feel attracted to him. How can he be so sexy when he's not conventionally handsome? I struggle to hide a deep sigh. Get it together girl! You don't want to frighten him, do you?!
"When… when is it more handsome- Pretty! I mean, pretty…" I quickly correct myself "The sight? I mean…"
"Pretty?" He arches his brow with amusement. I nod mortified. "It's always pretty; even in winter is awesome. However I'd say fall is my personal favorite."
"I think I'd agree. All those yellow and reds…"
"Oranges!" he says expressively "You haven't seen those oranges."
"Yeah, I guess…" I rub my hands together so they stop shaking "You've always lived here?" I ask with shaking voice. God, help me! I need to gather my self-control; I don't want him thinking I'm pathetic.
He doesn't turn to see me this time "It's been a while."
I nod. "I- I was also admiring your Christmas tree," my voice is firmer now - it was about time-. I turn to my left "I was wondering why you haven't turned it on."
He gives a step back so he can walk towards the tree in question without me getting in his way "It's not ready yet," he informs.
"It doesn't?" I ask "It seems pretty ready to me." I also give a step forward. "What is missing?"
He chortles and my lower belly trembles at the deep resound of his laugh. "I actually don't know," what I expect is an adorable frown appears on my forehead when I turn to see him. He looks at me briefly "There is someone in charge; a girl. She just told me it wasn't ready yet." He shrugs his perfect square shoulders.
"You mean you pay so someone else does the job?" I do my best so my voice sounds sexy too.
"The administration does, actually." He states simply as he touches a golden adornment of the tree "This apartment has the most visible window around here and the people in charge of the building take on them the duty to be…" he hesitates "Christmassy."
"So they spare you the job?"
"You can say so." He lets out a lopsided smile.
"Would you do it? I mean, if they didn't?"
As he takes his time to reply I take my time to take him in. I'd really wish I'd have all the time in the world, -or the hope to have him lying beside me some day in a near future- to look at him as long as I wanted, but I know this chance it's almost a miracle. I look at him intently, wanting to keep his image on my retinas for the rest of my life.
Under the warm lighting of the living room I'm able to see that he's just got a haircut. His dirty blonde locks sports a neat, manly cut. Somehow I can't picture him seated at Sally Hershberger salon as he gets his hair done. He's probably more on the line of an old fashioned barber shop. I also see the hint of stubble that tells me he didn't shave this morning. Looking at his dimple chin I wonder how he does to shave it. Does he put a finger at each side and then stretches the skin out so the shaver reaches it? He sweeps it to one side and then to the other? I giggle inwardly just by imagining him shirtless in front of his bathroom's mirror.
As he starts saying something in the order that Christmastime isn't his favorite time of the year I keep my quick-but-exhaustive inspection going on. His brow ridges, mannish hairline and gunmetal blue eyes are magnetic. 'Gunmetal' -lol- is not a word that I just pulled out from thin air, oh no. I googled them, blue eyes, since the moment I first laid my brown eyes on his. There's a whole spectrum of them, do you know? They go from 'Baby blue' –like Henry's-, 'Sky blue' –like the ones of Stan Wright-, or Gunmetal blue, -like Dick or... Helga's; my lips crumple with annoyance. Anyway, I could keep talking for hours about the issue, but I really need to go on for the sake of the Talk of the Century I'll soon be having with Brenda.
Alright, what else, since the clock is ticking off and his speech ending? Did I mention his Adam apple? The old scarring on his right temple? The million freckles that fill his cheeks and cheekbones? Not a million, but fifty thousand is a good number… mmmm, all right… three, four- maybe five hundred of them scattered all over his face. I volunteer to count them up if he's ever interested on keep track; promise.
When I react he's looking at me in a weird way. "What's so funny?" he asks.
"Sorry," I wipe what I assume was a goofy smile from my face, "I know what you say. Thinking back to my own family, not all Christmas were merry. There were sad times, losses, fights…"
"Meanness, poverty…. It's all a symbolism." He scoffs. A deep frown appears on his forehead and I can't help but feel intimidated "Have you ever thought about all those children who have nothing, not even hope, let alone a tree or presents? Who are forced to think they are the ones who are wrong because Christmas is supposed to be a 'giving' time even when no one is 'giving' on them?"
"Yeah; it seems to be all about happy families, I know. It's hard." I snort softly "Fortunately we weren't amongst them."
His eyes search my face up and down.
"Fortunately," he nods, dryly.
Something about this sudden coldness makes me wonder if I've been rude without realizing. I think hard about what it could be. I suppose for now I should better apologize "I don't mean it in a bad way; I mean…" I pause "It's a good thing that we both had caring parents; each one on their own way and - means. I wouldn't dare to compare my situation to yours, of course, but-"
"But you sympathize?"
"Well, yeah, of course, yeah."
"That's what's important." He states unceremoniously "Then I guess you agree with what I said?" He's looking at me with suspicion and I get nervous. Is he testing me? Does he know that I didn't listen to all what he said because I was actually checking him out?
"Yeah. I mean, of course this isn't something that I think about all the time ; I mean it's hurting. Sometimes we just choose to close our eyes, but of course I know there's poverty, negligence, violence, cruelty… and it's particularly mean at this time of the year." I take an intake and then slower my speech "When you think this way it's so easy to see the vainness, the hollowness of all the commercialism associated with Christmas, as you just said."
"It angers," there's something resembling hate in his voice, and I start feeling distressed.
"It's sad, I agree; but I also think it's my Christmas time after all; and I think I owe to myself and to the people I love to show that I care."
"By buying Christmas presents to them all." It wasn't a question. I frown. He gives a curt nod and smile scathingly. This conversation isn't what I was looking forward. His sharpness is starting to get to my nerves.
"I think I choose to think of them as a token of my affection." I swallow hard.
"Alright, maybe to your parents or your boyfriend; but what about to those people you barely know? Annoying people, despicable coworkers, your Secret Santa?"
I don't know how to feel by the fact that he's not hiding his self-righteous smirk anymore.
"It's a social conventionality..."
"That you follow blindly despite you said you sympathize…"
"You can't just keep yourself from everything!"
"From what exactly? Walking from a store to the next, buying last minute presents, paying for beautiful wrapping paper that will become garbage the very next day?"
"Come on," I snort "Don't tell me you don't do it?" He shrugs his shoulders with an arrogant indifference "Never? – I mean, not even to your loved ones?"
"A gift card when I can't really help it."
"A gift card?!" I can't help but show my astonishment.
"That way they know what to expect from me. I don't like when people get their hopes up over nothing." He says with disdain "Whose life has trully changed because of a Christmas present?"
"Well, I can't say right now whose life has really changed but I'm sure there had been Christmas presents that…" he smiles condescendingly. Something hot is stirring inside my chest and it's not lust. I can't believe what I hear. Even when I'm pretty sure I'll never be one of the people he cares about, I can't help but feel aggravated. "You never feel the impulse to give something, like a present?" I can't help that it goes out sounding like an accusation.
"Of course I do. That's what exactly makes them special. It's a big difference when you feel like giving something from when a social conventionalism tells you to do it on a certain date."
"I can't believe that I man in your position could do that."
He snorts and I turn up to see a wicked smile that suits him incredibly well.
"You'd never believe what a man in my position is allowed to do."
"Oh really?" I jut out my chin in a challenging way. I see the gap in his discourse that could become his perdition if I play my cards right. I don't know why but I feel I'd be happy if I could wipe that self-righteous smirk from his face. "How this … decadence… copes with your previous discourse against the exaggerated commercialism of the festivities?"
He shrugs his shoulders with disinterest as he turns to see his watch
"It doesn't."
My next biting commentary was ready to get out but his impassiveness freezes me "W-what?"
"It doesn't; by any means." I feel this sudden impulse to slap him.
Is he bored?
"You just said… that I man like you is allowed to do things that are beyond my… understanding. And now…"
"It seems that you took it to heart." I see him actually hiding a yawn. I feel disheartened "You'll see, I said I'm allowed; I never said I actually go and do bad, immoral, depraved things, which was what you seemed to be thinking."
"N… no, I …" I hesitate mortified, but he just goes on ignoring me.
"Maybe I wasn't even talking about amoral things in fact. Maybe I was talking about good deeds that a person like me is also allowed to do, but your girly anxious mind ran up to prejudiced conclusions." He shrugs again "I don't know what makes a nice girl like yourself go and think such things, miss…?" he leans slightly forward.
"M… Miller…" I make a pause. I don't know what came onto me at that right moment that made me speak without thinking, – probably the feeling that I had nothing to lose mixed with whatever the hell that had happened in the last minute - but before I had time to correct myself, I find my lips uttering - "though I wouldn't mind if it changed to Mueller," - with the most natural voice I'm able to compose.
"Ha!" he chuckles. His eyes shine with amusement and a hint of… something that I'm not able to point out.
I'm too busy trying to hide my embarrassment to interpret his thoughts. Oh, my god! I feel so ashamed! Did I just say aloud something that suggested marriage between us and he laughed at me?! He laughed at my blunt and stupid attempt at flirting?! God, what was I thinking?!
He kept that peculiar expression on his face as I'm sure my face has turned beet red. In order to think of anything else but what I just said, I turn down to see my clothes. I moan to myself; I regret having chosen dark jeans, a rather simple blouse and a pair of black flats. They are Nine West and all, but... I pout; that's it, no accessories, not even a watch. Still, I wish he'd look down to see me; I'm not half bad after all, but he wouldn't. He's looking at my face. If he's checked me out he didn't do it openly.
"Would you like something to drink?" he surprises me with his sudden question. "I should have asked earlier, sorry." His expression is neutral now; as if nothing major has happened.
I vacillate. Water, coffee, tea, a beer, whisky, tequila...? Why am I looking for the most complicated thing to ask for?! Despite everything I'm feeling daring. Possibly is because I still want to cause an impression. You just flirted with the guy, for God's sake! My mind shouts. That should tell you tons of what you didn't know about yourself.
"Hot cocoa?" I bit my lip. It seems that I actually startled him "Would that be possible? It's cold and I'm not that into coffee."
Liar, my mind shouts again but I just ignore it.
He grimaces and turns around "Truth is that I don't have idea." He heads for the kitchen. Well, he's doing his part: acting as if nothing. It means he's not angry, at least. I follow him smiling like an idiot now that he's giving me his back. This is exactly the part I was missing; checking him out from behind.
He's wearing a pair of Wranglers that perfectly fit those 36 inch length of blue denim on his long toned legs; unlike others -I snort to myself turning briefly towards the studio-. No kidding! His legs are remarkable even when he's wearing those business suits he uses to wear at work, but jeans are something else. Jeans allow you to appreciate actual shapes -and buns too- as Brenda would say. I fight back a giggle. As he's moving, stretching up and down the kitchen looking for cocoa powder I confirm our (Brenda and mine) suspicions. He's toned despite he doesn't seem the gym type. He's lean, fairly well-built but no muscular. Somehow it seems that his well-formed muscles came from genetics, from walking, or jogging if so, but no from spending long hours at the gym working on them.
"Here you are!" He finally places the cocoa powder on the counter "I knew I'd seen it somewhere."
"I see that you have a well-equipped kitchen." I chirp "My mother would kill for something like this."
He smiles politely and then frowns. "We need a saucepan." Before I get ready he bends over and takes my breath away….
Oh, glory of glories! Oh heavenly testament to the eternal majesty of God's creation.
"Holy Macaroni!"
My hand goes up to cover my mouth for a split second. What the hell I just said?! He straightens hastily. I already put my hands together in front of me and feign excitement as he turns around to see me.
"What did you say?!"
His frown is threatening. Oh God! I swallow hard. Blame my death on Homer Simpson.
"Sorry if I startled you." I'm not looking at him but at the cupboard behind him "I just got surprised that you have macaroni and cheese in here. See!" I gesture towards the cabinet where a few packets of the always dependable Kraft's Macaroni and Cheese show themselves.
I plead to God that he buys it. He seems confused for a second as he looks at the packages, and then turns to me. To say that the look in his blue eyes is only hostile is a fantasy.
"Do you want macaroni and cheese?" and his voice has turned to ice.
"No, no…. I guess… I guess it's just what you said before. I… we… we use to…" I vacillate. What if I made him angry? Arnold would never forgive me. "I guess we assume wrong things about people like you, like you said." I shrug "Like you having gourmet dinners all the time and… you know…" I let out an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that."
"Look-" He's boiling with rage, but right then Arnold's footsteps can be heard at the studio. He turns around and leaves without uttering another word.
I thank God. What the hell is happening to me! My hands are shaking as I fill the saucepan with water and put it on the stove. I scold myself. I can't believe it! What have I become? Did I just blurted out 'Holy Macaroni!' when his buttocks were within my reach? But then, - would anyone blame me? My God! I know he's furious. I won't survive the evening. I'm afraid he's gonna tell Arnold. Oh, God! This is no good. Arnold would never believe him because I'm a nice girl after all, but then what?
Who get me into these problems? I curse Brenda aloud. It's her fault after all. I didn't even like Dick Mueller at the beginning. He actually frightened me the first time I saw him: all shady and lugubrious; a storm waiting to happen. But then, she started to talk about him as if he was some kind of demigod and she never ended; and I started to pay attention. Next time I saw him I couldn't help but fall flat. Dick was poison.
As I put the cocoa powder into the saucepan I start to get calm. For much that I hate to hear men (or people in general) being sexist, I think I could do nothing to stop ourselves, even when I'd never say it aloud. From time to time, women lose our minds. You can argue that I'm stupid –not the case-, that I'm misogynist –I would never-, that I'm betraying my gender –not in a million years-, but sometimes it happens to us: girls just go wacky. Our senses explode, we see world through love-colored glasses, we can't keep our excitement at bay, and even our decorum disappears. We fall madly in love. We obsess. The object of our affections – God protect us- uses to be someone way out of our league; and actor or singer, an athlete, a public figure. How else you explain the craziness surrounding people like Justin Beaver, Two Direction, Jones Brothers, Backstreet Kids, or the initiators of this flock: The Beetles?
I also don't know what triggers it. Hormones, love, heat, lust, stupidity? Whatever. You can't stop it; it's a force of nature. All our love is lying right there just for someone to take it. It happened to me once when I was a teenager. I fell in love with Legolas aka Orlando Bloom. I read all the books; I bought the director's edition of each movie; I learned his biography; I went to investigate the place where he was born, both: in the Middle Earth and in Canterbury, England; the place where he grew up; the school he attended to; everything, I learned everything about him. I thought of him all the time, I spent hours looking into his warm brown eyes on my computer screen; I swore he was the most exceptional human being in the entire world; I knew that at a given evening he was going to come looking for me and we'd be happily ever after…
Was I a basket case or what? Sadly I wasn't. I sigh as I turn off the burner. My hot cocoa smells delicious. As I look around for mugs I admit that it has happened again, just that this time I didn't fall in love with an artist. I fell in love with a real guy but even so, this real guy was someone who I never thought I could actually meet - and deal with.
I guess that's why I'm acting this way. It's like when you run up an artist and do crazy things just so he notices your presence. But now I don't know what would happen next. I already did crazy things; I already acted in a certain way. I set a path; I can't go back now. Do I really want something else to happen? If it happen? Should I push further? Is this one of those opportunities that people say happen just once in your life? Should I go for it? Should I let it go?
My Goodness! I don't know what to do. I realize my hands are cold; I am trembling. I pour the beverage into three mugs and I take one in my hands to have a sip. The sweet hot liquid warms me; I close my eyes and smile. A couple of sips later I'm certainly feeling better. I should forget about the whole thing; say nothing and act as if nothing. I open my eyes feeling almost relaxed. Then I frown at the sight of the container that lies on the counter before me. It's me, or it's the same kind of container Arnold brought home a few days ago. I open it and took a piece. It contains the same kind of biscuits we had for breakfast the next few days. Does that mean it was a present from Dick? Somewhat I don't think so. Arnold didn't know Dick's address until now, right? Does that mean then, that-
"What are you doing?" a shiver runs through my body and my hands shake. Some cocoa spills on the counter. Sheesh, I didn't hear him coming. I've been hoping he'd forget he was angry with me but his voice says otherwise. I take my time to turn around and face him. "Are you playing house?" I feel cold inside. There's an expression of utter repulsion on his face as his eyes sweep the scene that I had to swallow hard. I'm drinking his cocoa; I'm taking his cookies without permission; I'm taking possession of his kitchen…
Leaving the mug on the table I want to ask about Arnold but I just can't utter a word. It seems I'm not even able to clear my throat. Something inside me tells me I should run away, leave the place but I'm almost paralyzed. I've never been so humiliated in my entire life and the worst thing is that I can't even move. His hard stare is fixed on me. Only god knows what he is thinking.
"You're enjoying this, right? To the very last drop," he says with a low tone that makes me jump off my skin and the hair of the back of her neck stand on end. "Taking advantage of the smallest slice of power that reaches your hands, huh? That's who you are. Strange. Because when I first saw you I thought you were this mousy, insignificant girl whose daddy told her that if she behaved she'd be forever his little princess." He says with scorn "What happened? Life in Disney Castle is boring, huh? Prince Charming is not what they promise?"
I'm frozen. Dick walks to the door probably to see if Arnold is still working in the other room while I try to pull myself together, but it just appears to be an impossible task. I'm a mess, I'm frozen, and I'm excited. Incredibly I think this is the most exciting thing that had happened in my entire life.
"What is it? Did you really expect me to feel flattered? Do you think I'm gonna make a move?" he laughs viciously. "Before you start fantasizing let me tell you that nobody comes to my house to have fun at my expense, did you hear?" his voice turns threatening "Look what's going to happen here. You're finishing your fucking coffee and are going to leave me alone for the rest of the evening. Are we clear?"
My eyes are on the counter as I nod tightly. "Can I take Arnold some hot cocoa?" I just want to leave. The look he gives me is one of pure disrespect.
"Yeah. Go ahead, Show him how much you care." He snorts "Poor Arnold. Some loving girlfriend you must be."
That stings. I'm not that worthless, I want to shout at him.
"Do you think he's perfect?" I say instead, biting. I can be derisive too. He's about to leave the room but then stops briefly; probably out of manners only. "He doesn't care anymore. A few months ago he reunited an old flame from grade school and…"
"Looks like I care? Seriously girl! Why don't you go and get yourself a best friend so you have someone who actually listens to you?"
"I have a best friend already-!" I cry out. The bell rings at that precise moment and he doesn't stop this time; he leaves me alone. I curse him. What kind of pathetic human being he thinks I am? I walk up and down the kitchen. I don't know why I'm taking his disdain this intensely. I am tempted to follow him but then I stop dead in my tracks. A giggle followed by a sultry voice made me leave the room and stop to stand akimbo in the middle of the hall. A beautiful girl has her arms circling around his neck and is kissing him.
"Why haven't you called me?" she mumbles between her kisses "Now I need to show up unexpectedly so I can get a hold of you, huh?"
Dick disentangles himself from her arms curtly "We have company," he informs coldly as he points towards me "What are you doing here anyway?" he asks in low voice.
But he doesn't get an answer. The girl had turns to me with a hateful look in her eyes. She looks contemptuously at me "Who's this?" she asks, her voice demanding.
"Miss Miller… Regina Brennan." Dick says without masking his impatience. It surprises me that he's able to show manners in such unwelcome situation. Looking briefly at me he adds "Miss Miller is my lawyer's girlfriend, Regina. He's in the studio, helping me out with some paperwork." He raises his hands and looks at her with insolence. "As you see, we're busy. If you'd have called you wouldn't be losing your time-"
"Oh, no problem. I can wait."
"No, you can't. But I guess you'll do as you please. Now, if you excuse me." He turns around.
"Aren't you going to offer me a drink at least?" Regina asks.
Without turning back he replies. "Coffee's in the kitchen. I bet you won't have problem finding the rest of the stuff."
"Coffee?" Regina snorts before turning to me to give me what seems to be a friendlier look.
I nod, taking it as her silent excuse. She doesn't see me as a rival anymore I guess. I wonder what she'd think if she'd know that I actually tried to hit on her, um, boyfriend? I raise a brow to myself. Arnold has already talked about her. She's the daughter of the second major investor of the firm, and the closest thing to a girlfriend Dick actually has, according to the guys who traveled with him to India.
"I just made some hot cocoa." I utter, deciding to be friendly too "Needed to keep me occupied while I waited."
"They forget to keep track of the time when they work, don't they?" she smiles.
"I suppose so," I reply. "So?" I ask, pointing to the kitchen.
"Nope," she smiles condescendingly "I think I need a real drink." She throws her handbag onto the couch and walks placidly towards a cabinet. "Do you want something?" she turns around to ask me.
"No, thank you" I shake my head no.
I check her out as she seems to be looking for something specific amongst the inventory of bottles that are in there. She's about my height, downright skinny, and has straight dark hair that falls to her shoulders. She's dressed to the nines, of course, and had perfect smoky eyes. She's stunning in a way that only rich people could be. Like a brunette Paris Hilton.
I go to pick my drink from the kitchen and come back; taking the seat that is closer to the frontal window. Regina is moving an antique expensive-looking globe from its former spot tucked against the wall, to the center of the piece. When she's done she looks at my mug and smiles somewhat tenderly.
"You make me recall my grandmother, you know…" she laughs softly as she walks to stand in front of the window and looks outside "No offense. She also loves chocolate."
"None taken" I smile. "I guess we inherit the habits from them, don't you think, mothers, grandmothers?"
"Yeah, you're probably right." She says as she shakes slightly her red drink in the air "I wonder what mothers in Florida pass on to their daughters."
"I don't know." I hesitate. I decide to play dumb. "Orange juice?" I open big my round innocent eyes.
"You're too much!" She laughs softly again and then turns to the studio door. I snort. She fell for it. Hook, line and sinker! I follow her sight "What's so important to have them working on Sunday?" she's frowning when she turns to me.
"He's taking a plane tonight." I shrug my shoulders.
"Your boyfriend - or Dick?" she frowns.
"Dick."
"Tonight?" She grumbles, walking to the cabinet to pour more wine into her glass "Where to? Do you know?"
I pause "I think I heard Winnipeg."
"Canada?" her eyes brighten "Oh! It won't take long, then." She says as for herself. She remains silent for a while and then she turns to me and complains "He's never here, you know? And when he does, he's always at work. He's pretty much a workaholic."
I let out an understanding smile "I guess it's hard for you."
"You don't have idea. I never get to see him lately." She puffs and takes a seat at the end of the sofa. "Does you boyfriend travel for work too?"
I shook my head after taking another sip of my drink.
"Not as much as yours, I guess."
She rolls her eyes. I notice that she doesn't deny my affirmation. So she's his girlfriend.
… Or at least she considers herself his girlfriend.
"That's a beautiful globe." I say as I point the item she placed in the middle of the room.
"It is, doesn't it? Father bought it as a present for him at a Sotheby's auction." She informs, beaming. "If he knew Dick keeps it tucked against the wall this way I don't know what he'd do! He'd probably come and take it home."
"It's a beautiful piece that deserves to be exposed." I agree with her "Why he does that?" I ask, all ingenuously.
She raises her hands in the air with desperation and grunts in a restrained way "Why indeed?!" she puffs "He's strange; so full of his… little ways." She lowers her voice and turns to the studio with caution.
"Really?" I ask, hiding a smile.
She snorts waving her delicate hand dismissively "I'm telling you!" then gestures all around the place.
"Mmm…. I guess I understand you." I add after taking a second look around.
"Really?" she looks at me fixedly "Why? Your boyfriend is also like that?" she raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
"Well, he does love pink." I smile awkwardly as she gives me a pointed look "Half of our decoration is pink: walls, drapes, cushions. I mean bold pink." She frowns at me, unbelieving "He's the frigging Pink Panther!" I crack a laugh and she mimics me.
"Oh, my God! I have never heard something like that!" she shakes her head and takes another sip "He has his good side, I guess?"
"Yeah. He's really nice and caring." I grin fondly "Loving and supporting."
"Sounds like a keeper." She says with a cheeky smile. I wonder if she's being sarcastic.
"Why? Isn't Dick like that?"
"He has his good side, of course," she exhales through the nose "but he can also be really annoying."
"Annoying?" I repeat, raising a brow. "Really?" I wonder what she is drinking because, seriously, even when it's obvious she isn't 'the sharpest tool in the shed' I don't think she's naïve either, not in the least.
"You know how it is. He's always criticizing, judging people, expressing corrosive opinions about everything…" she suddenly blinks, probably realizing what she just said "Although, he can also turn into the nicest guy around all of a sudden. That's what's so great about him."
"He makes you forget about his annoying side."
"You can say so." She hums affirmatively.
"And…" I let out a giggle "is he good in bed?"
"Look that you're curious," Regina looks briefly at me with half smile "But as a matter of fact, he is." She leans her head languidly on the back of the couch and closes her eyes. "Don't make me think of that-" she moans huskily "because I'd have to follow him to Canada and he wouldn't like it."
"He wouldn't like it?" I repeat without missing a beat. She nods "Why?" whatever she's drinking, I hope it also made her to forget about this inquiring later.
"He hates that I tag along when he travels."
"Why?"
"He says I can be a real pain in the ass." She rolls her eyes "Can you believe it?"
"You seem pretty nice to me."
"That's what everybody says." She snorts. "Everybody likes me!" Taking a last sip she gets up. She hides a slight stagger before start walking. "I need to use the bathroom," she says graciously before walking to the end of the hall and disappearing behind a door.
I frown. Someone had already had a couple of drinks before coming here, I bet. I get up and walk to the kitchen to wash my mug. Seeing the saucepan in there I remember I was supposed to take Arnold a cup of hot cocoa. I turn the stove on and I wash the mugs and spoons as I wait. I hear steps behind me and I turn to see our host walking towards me. He places Regina's empty glass in the sink.
"Where is she?" it doesn't sound as a question but as a demand.
"Bathroom," I pause "I guess she's using the one in your bedroom."
"What?!" he barks, looking at me as if all was my fault.
"As if I could have stopped her," I snort; then I point to the door where the girl has disappeared. Dick curses under his breath and leaves. This is exactly what I needed! Taking care of his drunken girlfriends. Maybe it's him who should get himself a bestie.
The cocoa is hot. I pour some into a mug and leave the kitchen. I reach the hall and realize Dick had already placed the globe in its previous place. I can help but smirk. I guess all men have their annoying oddities.
I take some extra steps to stand by his bedroom's door expecting to hear a heated discussion but I'm only able to hear what seems to be a civil interchange. I go on and find Arnold at the edge of his seat with his sight glued to the screen of a Dell laptop. Poor boy! This visit has meant to him nothing else but legalese. If you only knew that life is what exists outside of that strange language that only you understand and that's so hard to comprehend, my dear boyfriend!
"I brought some hot cocoa for you, love." I say to him leaving the mug by his side and walking to stand behind him. I kiss the top of his head.
"Thank you, honey." He replies automatically as he corrects a phrase in the Word document he's working at. When he's done he turns up and smiles at me.
"How are you doing?" I ask as he leans back and starts drinking.
"I'm checking it for the last time before send it to the printer."
"Was it hard?" I massage his shoulders.
"The usual,"
"Good."
I hear the other couple leaving the bedroom and walking to the hall.
"Are you bored?" Arnold asks as he continues scrolling down the document.
"No" I shake my head "I'm good. I'm just worried about you. Are you okay?" I lean to speak lowly against his earlobe. "How's Dick acting by the way? Is he the pain in the ass that you expected him to be?"
"Nope; not at all," he turns again and his green eyes smile "He's being really nice." He says in low voice as he turns to the door "The nicest I've ever seen him."
"I told you." I kiss his head again and walk to stop by the door. For a moment I fear I'd hear the sounds of a passionate encounter between the others but they are only talking. Their voices even had a normal volume, what means not mumbling. They are not in sight so they must be by the dinner room.
"… I mean, blue looks great on you." Regina is saying. "It stands out your eyes."
He lets out a snort "Then why you never told me before?"
"I thought you already knew." She states matter-of-factly "I mean, if you didn't then why you have your entire wardrobe renewed, huh?"
He lets out a hum that sounds like a grumble. "I didn't. I only bought some shirts. I don't know what's the big deal."
"Some shirts and a stunning blue dress, so I saw." the girl's voice turns harsh. He doesn't answer and a few seconds later she insists, grumpily. "Dick! There's a blue dress in your closet and it's obvious it doesn't belong to you!"
He lets out a tired groan "Here we go again."
"You're still seeing that girl?" her voice sounds dejected.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Come on! What's her name? Eva? I don't think that dress it's her, though. It's not her size; wouldn't cover her…um… charms."
"That's why you went in there?" Dick's voice is harsh "To check my closet? You have no right to check my closet!?"
"I went in to look for my earring." She grumbles "Did you find it? Oh, tell me you found it!"
"Your earring?!" he scoffs callously "You're still looking for that thing? That was when? Like a year ago or something?" he laughs. The girl complains noisily. "Maybe you should have looked for it in someone else's bedroom because you didn't lose it in here."
"How fun!" she curses him "I know I left it in here!" she exclaims. I smile impishly to myself. I turn to Arnold but he's still concentrated in his work. "Maybe the girl that comes to do the cleaning found it and kept it to herself."
"Oh, really?" Dick snorts. "Why she'd do that?"
"Because it was made of diamonds and pearls." She explains.
"Lupita would never do that."
"Lupita would never do that!" Regina mimics him. "I don't know what that girl has given to you. Some filthy potion, I'm sure."
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"I'm not ridiculous. She's…"
"Regina!" he says warningly. "Stop it! You're making a fool of yourself."
"Yeah! Sure! That girl is a witch!"
"I don't want to hear it!" Dick is starting to sound impatient "Why did you come here in the first place?"
Regina exhales without trying to hide her annoyance "I already told you. I wanted to see you."
"Right," he snorts with disbelief. "All of a sudden you realized you wanted to see me? After all this time-"
"Oh, no! You're not blaming me on this! If we haven't seen each other lately is because you're always unreachable. And when I actually get a hold of you, you always say that you have some work to do."
"Well, in case you've forgotten, I'm a man with responsiblities. There is always work to do."
"But you're busy all of the time!" she grumbles.
"And you don't complain when you receive your check, do you?" he retorts right away.
"Well…" she trails off. "I'm not saying that I don't appreciate your efforts." She utters lowly. Dick hums with sarcasm "Anyway, but I'm here now and I just heard you're leaving tonight. I want to go with you this time."
"That's not open to discussion."
"Come on!" she pleads in low voice. I inch closer. Even if I gave a step out of the studio door I know they won't be able to see me.
"We've already talked about that."
"It's only Canada" she insists.
"No." his answer is blunt. "You don't understand. You think I go to have fun. I can't believe that after all these years you still have no idea how it is."
"I promise I won't distract you. I won't be a burden."
"No. Excuse me but I can't believe you."
"Come on, hun; I promise." The girl whines "Besides, it'll be only a few days, right? I mean, Thanksgiving falls on Thursday. You won't be working on Thursday, will you?"
"I'll be at home on Thursday," he informs casually.
"At home?" she asks with disappointment "You mean Dakota?" He hums in affirmation "You can't go to Dakota!" she complains "Come on, Dick! Why would you want to be in Dakota for Thanksgiving?!"
It surprises me to hear that Dick laughs in good mood "Are you really asking me that?"
"No, I mean, I understand that you want to see your mom, but…" the girls seem lost for words.
"But-?"
"Why don't you ask Darleen to come here? Hey! In fact why don't you ask her to move? New York is a great place to live. I'm sure she'd love in here. I wonder why she never moved – like Mother or Helga did. They never wanted to hear a word about moving back."
"What makes you think that I want her in here?" his voice is still playful. "Come on girl! Give me a break!"
The girl pushes him. "Don't be mean! It's your mom, for God's sake!"
He continues laughing.
"So… you're spending in North Dakota the entire weekend?" she asks after a while "Dakota is so BORING! There's nothing to do over there. Come on, Dick. Ask your mom to come. We can show her around. We can take her to the Hamptons. There will be three major events over the weekend and even you have to admit that-"
"Why I'd want to go to the Hamptons?"
"Your mom would like it! It'd be great! The Vanderbilt will be throwing a party on Friday; and the Lewis-"
"Regina…" his voice sounds serious "You know I don't give a damn about that kind of stuff."
"And what are you going to do in Dakota instead?"
"Not wearing a tuxedo for starters."
"I should have supposed it." She snorts mockingly "I guess you can't wait to put on your jeans, your flannel shirts, your rugged boots, and then head for the-" then she stops suddenly and cracks a laugh "Oh, my God! You're really looking forward to be there, right? You're already wearing your… outdoorsy outfit-" she laughs again. "Let me see. Are you wearing a flannel under that nice sweater?" the sound of hands moving, her playful giggling and Dick complains can be heard. "I knew it!" she laughs again.
"Regina! Stop! I warn you!"
"There, there! Alright. Have you planned out your weekend already? What would you do? Go fishing? Hunting?" she sneers "I don't know why you choose that stuff over going to the Hamptons!"
"You already know me." he stands up and I retreat into the studio again. I observe his books in case he's coming in. I turn to Arnold who's paying me no attention. I turn to the door; seems that he is not coming.
"Yeah, I do. It's almost twenty years now." I can hear Regina deep exhalation "And I think I know exactly what are you going to do up there. Let's see: you're taking your truck out and are going to hit the road as soon as you put your feet in there. Darleen won't have time to give you her blessing when you'll already be a hundred miles away chasing fish down in some creek."
"Glad to see that you still know me."
"You'll never change." She pauses "Though I still hope that someday you'll acquire a taste for more, um, sophisticated entertainment."
"You really have that kind of hope?" he mocks her. The girl hums.
"Nope; not anymore, to tell the truth." She says with resignation "You'll be forever the same boy who loves hiking and driving and singing-" she makes a pause "I'm sure you still love your same old songs, right? How did it go? The one of the onion rings?"
"I can't believe you remember." He says; hint of nostalgia in his voice. I contain my breath as I hear Dick clearing his throat before starting to intone an old song; the one-hit-wonder of a Vietnamese guy singing country that I can't believe I also know the lyrics by heart.
"I've got the summer breeze, got sixteen cans of 'beers'
A two-speed window fan when it's ninety-three degrees
So forgive me for not grabbin' your brass ring;
It's crystal clear I'll stay right here and keep the simple things"
I can't help but let out a goofy smile. I blink as I hear their voices again.
"Right! Excuse me if I find it hard to believe." Regina had been following the tune with a hum on her own, but then lets out a sonorous laugh. I'm surprised to realize the guy sings pretty well though. "Especially when I've seen you devouring miles in that monster truck of yours."
"Hey! She's not a monster truck. She's a Raptor." He complains playfully. I have to admit that they seem to be having fun. I find myself feeling jealousy. I'd like to share with him moments like this.
"A Raptor?! Oh God! It has the name of an extinct dinosaur." She chortles. Dick grumbles. Then she slurs something that I can't quite get and Dick complains.
"Regina, your breath stinks," he says in low voice but I'm still able to hear it "Do you really need to drink that much?" his voice is harsh "Have you had any actual food today? Don't lie to me."
"I…um" the girl trails off.
"Come on. Get up. I can make you a sandwich." There're noises when they get up and move around "Conchita sent me some of her cookies yesterday. Do you want some?" I frown because his voice sounds worried.
"Oh, Dick, I know you have to go in a few hours, but let's go to have dinner at least, huh?" the girl almost begs.
"Easy!" he says mockingly "Just let me call the airline so they put the delay tag on the flight just because I'm going to take you out to dinner."
"Come on, Dick, You don't have to be rude!" she complains "Besides, I'm not asking anything fancy; a burger joint or anything."
"And you're gonna eat a burger, for real?"
"You'll have to wait and see." She smiles up to him.
"Fine. Once we finish we'll go out to have dinner, okay?" she hums affirmatively "Alright, then go and refresh your face or something while I check how's Arnold doing."
I hurry to Arnold' side and grab his empty mug. Poor Arnold; he hasn't been aware of anything of what's happening in here. Sometimes I can't believe how he lives his life with such simplicity.
"Do you want more?" I ask him.
"No, thank you" he says as he stands up and stretches out his limbs. "I think I'm ready to print it," he walks over to the printer's table and turns it on.
Dick comes in right at that moment.
"How are you doing?" he asks.
"Finished." Arnold smirks "Do you want to check it on the screen or do I print it first?"
"Let's check it first" Dick says as they both walk to the desk.
I leave the room and walk to the kitchen. I find Regina in there. She has an ethereal beauty around her that I can't help but envy. She smiles at me and says that I shouldn't worry about the dishes; that even when Dick's going out 'Lupita comes and takes care of them.' She says with a sneer.
I also feel sorry for her. She doesn't have it easy either. Being the rich girl she is and possessing the beauty and elegance she does, she still seems to be unable to catch him. She'd been unable to do it for almost twenty years, as she just said. What hope is left in there for a girl like me then, I can't help but think.
Then I realize I don't regret having been so blunt earlier. Although I had to admit that I didn't get anything from it. If something, I gained his contempt.
Still, I can't help but appreciate the fact that at least he'll remember me longer than he had if I had been the nice girl everybody thinks I am. That's something. I still could dream that if we run into each other in the future and our situations are different, we might be able to manage out something.
Soon enough the guys are done and the four of us manage to have a small talk before heading out. The thing I'll remember forever is that Dick somewhat steers the conversation to a point where he's able to declare how despicable the girls who disrespect their couples are. I see Regina cringing and it feels somehow comforting to know that I'm not the only sinner. Completely unaware of the ulterior meaning, Arnold adds his two cents by saying that it isn't an only-girl issue, because men also do that, to what Dick decides to turn a deaf ear.
When Regina takes her phone to ask for her car we know it's our cue. Dick thanks Arnold sincerely and we finally leave the place. I know I'm going to miss in here, I think as we wait for the elevator and during our way down. It'd be so easy to get accustomed to this fancy world. I let out a long exhalation as we leave the building and step into the cold. It's starting to rain again; I snort to myself. Real world is welcoming us back.
"Where to?" Arnold asks as we reach the edge of the sidewalk. All the taxis in sight are already taken. We move on, walking to the other corner, away from The Plaza since there's a crowd in there.
"I don't know," I say as I keep moving in my place to keep me warm. I know I need a few minutes to regain my old self; to come back from the dreamy place where I got lost for the last – I turn to see my cellphone – one hour and a forty-five minutes. My God! It felt like an eternity!
Arnold looks over his shoulder and then frowns. I follow his sight. Dick and Regina are leaving the place. They walk side by side. Regina is extending her hand trying to reach his, but Dick hurries leaving her behind. He and a young valet interchange something and then he rounds the car to take the sleek black Mercedes's driver seat. I can't help but smile at the look of the snobbish girl rolling her eyes. The valet is heading for the building entrance, but then he hurries back to open gentlemanly the passenger door for her.
"He's a total ass!" Arnold snorts disapprovingly.
"Yeah, he is." I reply. 'But he's smoking hot!' I moan inwardly, biting my lip. I think getting to know him only worsened my sickness. I feel so alive, so excited. I am so turned on. I look at Arnold at my side and I can't help but feel bad. I'm not that cold hearted bitch after all.
"Why he called you Miss Miller?" he asks me with a frown.
"He got my name wrong I guess," I shrug my shoulders with nonchalance. "Why don't we go back home?" I offer, giving him one of my best smiles. I got close to touch his jaw. He didn't shave this morning either and his stubble made me remember someone else's. "We can ask for a pizza and have it in bed while we watch some TV. Just you and me; like the old times, huh?"
His green eyes blink as he looks at me intently. "You're sure it's a good idea?" he asks. "It was supposed to be the perfect date. Nothing turned out as we expected in the end." He ends dejectedly.
"It can still be perfect." I hum as I stand on tiptoes to bite his jaw and push my hips against his. I turn up to see that his eyes are wide open. My voice turns sultry when I add "It could turn out more than perfect."
I giggle as he leans to kiss me and hold me tight against him. God! He has no idea what's coming to him, I think as I moan into his kiss. After all the excitement and the stimulus I've gone through this evening I'm afraid I'll go wild and attack him violently.
Oh,God! I think we won't be able to walk without a limp in the morning.
.
Happy Halloween everybody!
I don't own Hey Arnold!
I own only the plot and the OC.
TMs are meant to illustrate the story.
I want to publically recognize all the beautiful songs from this series. I love particularly The Simple Things and Smashed, but there are also a lot of them that are just genius: My Last Bow, I Saw your Face and Wow!, Mad Engineer blues and Mad Engineer song, Look Up, HA versions of Carmen and The Valkyries and so many, many others. There's never the chance to Thank Craig Bartlett and the group of genius behind the Hey Arnold Series as it should be. Here it goes my humble recognition. THANK YOU VERY MUCH, GUYS!
Also want to thank everybody for being here and especially to Jose Ramiro and Nep2uune for your reviews. Your words keep me going, guys!
October 29, 2015