Chapter 5
LA Lady
August 1983
When Jackie saw it she had to have it. When she was window shopping during one of her workday lunch hours she saw the painting in the gallery shop window. It was a painting done in 1980 by living artist Francis Scott. The scene was an open bedroom window complete with flowing ivory curtains, which reminded her of the Seals and Crofts song "Summer Breeze" and there on the edge of the soft pastel pink and green toned bed linen in vibrant ruby red were two perfect red roses intertwined within each other. The leaves and thorns on the stem uncut as two half-empty crystal champagne flutes rested on the bedroom end table. You didn't need to see the couple to know that they were in love's rapture. The fact that you didn't see them represented in the painting meant they could be whoever you crystallized them in your mind to be. It hung above her white fireplace. When she was thirteen she always wanted a glorious self-portrait hanging above her fireplace and now she realized how immature and self-important that was. She couldn't imagine another painting above her fireplace than the implication of a content and wonderful love. It's all she had. Jackie was coerced into going on a double date tonight with one of her girlfriends from work. "He won't go out with me, unless we can double date." Jackie's first thought was what kind of man is that? But there was nothing else to do. She could show off her new sapphire blue dress to her friend just as she could order the most expensive thing off the restaurant menu. It dawned on Jackie that she has been pretty much faking her normally perky self for four years now. No one knew the real Jackie Burkhart and they weren't going to.
Jackie's date was named Erik with a 'K' had the man's name been Michael or Steven she wouldn't have felt the need to go home and pull a Sylvia Plath. This Erik was walking sneezing and wheezing allergy case that she felt she was secretly filming a lame comedy series pilot. He spent most of the night in the restroom, which was fine by her. She cut her lobster in small pieces but hardly took any bites. The sound of the band on the dance floor was giving her a migraine. She felt the people whispering were talking about her. Jackie bolted up from the table.
"Are you okay?" asked her work friend
"Yes," she grabbed her sequined evening bag that matched her dress, "Yes."
She didn't want anyone to know her business as she ran out of the restaurant. She could have used the guest phone but somehow it was more romantic and a page ripped out of the latest best seller. She took her phone card out of her purse. Someone had to make the first move. She could take the next plane out and be in his arms within a matter of hours!
"Hello. This is the Forman residence. Sorry we are not home to take your call. Please leave your name and number after the beep and we'll get back to you as soon as possible." She ended with her trademark laugh.
Answering machine!
Jackie was about to hang up but she put the receiver back to her ear.
"Hello, Mrs. Forman. This is Jackie Burkhart. Please tell----"
The damn thing cut her off. She quickly dialed again.
"give Eric my phone number. It is (310)----"
Beep!
"F***!"
They must have purchased the most inexpensive answering machine that they could find as she quickly dialed again.
"555-5317. Tell Eric I want to speak to him soon!"
It was corny and rushed but she had to get beat the answering machine. She left her evening wrap on the chair at the restaurant but she didn't care. The only thing that she cared about was hailing a taxi and waiting for Eric with a C's call.
Later
Jackie fell asleep at her kitchen table. She was still dressed in her dark blue albeit wrinkled vision of loveliness. An empty teacup lie on its side by her ear. The phone rang at 1:05am. Finally! After all these years!
"E-Eric Forman*," she was surprised at her own shaky voice, "How are you?"
"Who is Eric Forman?"
It was her work friend. "Never mind. What do you want?"
"You left your wrap at the restaurant."
"You called for that?"
"Not really, Jackie. Erik likes you."
"Well I don't like Erik," she sighed, "With a K."
"Actually my real reason for calling is our Las Vegas meet and greet has been pushed up to tomorrow—well actually today. We have to be at the airport in two hours."
Jackie slid down the wall almost disconnecting the telephone. She didn't know whether to cry or laugh. It's not like her job allowed her to play hooky. She was the number one spokes model. What was she doing? It was better when she tried to push Eric out of her mind. Maybe the non-ringing phone meant that he wasn't interested anymore? He could've been married with two small happy babies. He himself might be happy. She said her 'see ya later' goodbye to her work friend and slowly got up to run to her bedroom to pack a quick suitcase. It was time to let these unrequited feelings for Eric go as her magnificent painting looked on.
It was four in the morning when Eric stumbled into his apartment. He had one too many at the bar tonight. He looked forward to his play nights when he could drink a little and f*** a lot. He tripped over his life-size Yoda statue. His answering machine light was blinking. It was his Mother.
"No-t---t—oday, K-kitty," he groaned as he deleted her message mid sentence.
Eric never made it to his bedroom as he passed out on the floor.
Jackie needed that shower. It rejuvenated her as she had to be 'perky Jackie' when she was out in the public eye. She was about to get dressed, as she had to be at the airport in a few minutes when the phone rang. Her first thought was not of Eric this time but her work friend probably to remind her to bring the latest magazines and trashy novels to read on the airplane.
"Hello?" Jackie asked
"Hello, Jackie, it's me Mrs. Forman."
"Hi, how are you?"
"Okay. Red and I just got back from our dinner and movie date."
And the other thing that would be happening as soon as Kitty got off the telephone.
"How is Mr. Forman?"
"Good. I got him to fix the settings on the answering machine so people can leave longer messages. I called Eric---"
"You did? How is he?"
"I wouldn't know. I got his machine."
"Oh."
"I gave him your phone number."
Jackie looked at her clock and realized that it was quite late at least for people Red and Kitty's age. She didn't want to keep Kitty on the phone.
"Thanks. I better let you go...."
She could've inquired about Eric but chose to leave the matter rest and she said her quick goodbye's before Kitty could say any more. She made a mistake calling the Forman's. It was a moment of weakness. Jackie noted that Eric couldn't possibly be married because Kitty probably never would have given Eric her phone number otherwise.
"Bye, Mrs. Forman."
That was the end of that. In less than twelve hours Jackie would be signing 8X10 glossies of herself and posing for pictures for a bunch of horny middle aged married men who fantasized about leaving their nagging wives for a hot young tomato like her. Jackie finished her packing when a large jolt scared the hell out of her. Her first thought was 'earthquake'. She survived two of them already and that was one of the few things she hated about California.
"What in the Hell?"
Her painting fell off the wall. The frame broke and shards of glass were around the fireplace. She was going to have to tell maintenance to clean this mess up.
"Oh," Jackie's heart pierced as she noticed the two perfect intertwined roses on the bed were separated thanks to the piece of glass from the frame that cut through them as if they didn't matter.
She put on her camel colored coat and grabbed her suitcase and purse before turning off the lights. She had a plane to catch.
Special thanks to Jaded Angel—I'm very glad that you are liking this story. I just wanted to say thank you very much for your positive reviews.
*Corrected Jackie's quote to say "Eric Forman" since her 'date' was named Erik.~Carol
LA Lady
August 1983
When Jackie saw it she had to have it. When she was window shopping during one of her workday lunch hours she saw the painting in the gallery shop window. It was a painting done in 1980 by living artist Francis Scott. The scene was an open bedroom window complete with flowing ivory curtains, which reminded her of the Seals and Crofts song "Summer Breeze" and there on the edge of the soft pastel pink and green toned bed linen in vibrant ruby red were two perfect red roses intertwined within each other. The leaves and thorns on the stem uncut as two half-empty crystal champagne flutes rested on the bedroom end table. You didn't need to see the couple to know that they were in love's rapture. The fact that you didn't see them represented in the painting meant they could be whoever you crystallized them in your mind to be. It hung above her white fireplace. When she was thirteen she always wanted a glorious self-portrait hanging above her fireplace and now she realized how immature and self-important that was. She couldn't imagine another painting above her fireplace than the implication of a content and wonderful love. It's all she had. Jackie was coerced into going on a double date tonight with one of her girlfriends from work. "He won't go out with me, unless we can double date." Jackie's first thought was what kind of man is that? But there was nothing else to do. She could show off her new sapphire blue dress to her friend just as she could order the most expensive thing off the restaurant menu. It dawned on Jackie that she has been pretty much faking her normally perky self for four years now. No one knew the real Jackie Burkhart and they weren't going to.
Jackie's date was named Erik with a 'K' had the man's name been Michael or Steven she wouldn't have felt the need to go home and pull a Sylvia Plath. This Erik was walking sneezing and wheezing allergy case that she felt she was secretly filming a lame comedy series pilot. He spent most of the night in the restroom, which was fine by her. She cut her lobster in small pieces but hardly took any bites. The sound of the band on the dance floor was giving her a migraine. She felt the people whispering were talking about her. Jackie bolted up from the table.
"Are you okay?" asked her work friend
"Yes," she grabbed her sequined evening bag that matched her dress, "Yes."
She didn't want anyone to know her business as she ran out of the restaurant. She could have used the guest phone but somehow it was more romantic and a page ripped out of the latest best seller. She took her phone card out of her purse. Someone had to make the first move. She could take the next plane out and be in his arms within a matter of hours!
"Hello. This is the Forman residence. Sorry we are not home to take your call. Please leave your name and number after the beep and we'll get back to you as soon as possible." She ended with her trademark laugh.
Answering machine!
Jackie was about to hang up but she put the receiver back to her ear.
"Hello, Mrs. Forman. This is Jackie Burkhart. Please tell----"
The damn thing cut her off. She quickly dialed again.
"give Eric my phone number. It is (310)----"
Beep!
"F***!"
They must have purchased the most inexpensive answering machine that they could find as she quickly dialed again.
"555-5317. Tell Eric I want to speak to him soon!"
It was corny and rushed but she had to get beat the answering machine. She left her evening wrap on the chair at the restaurant but she didn't care. The only thing that she cared about was hailing a taxi and waiting for Eric with a C's call.
Later
Jackie fell asleep at her kitchen table. She was still dressed in her dark blue albeit wrinkled vision of loveliness. An empty teacup lie on its side by her ear. The phone rang at 1:05am. Finally! After all these years!
"E-Eric Forman*," she was surprised at her own shaky voice, "How are you?"
"Who is Eric Forman?"
It was her work friend. "Never mind. What do you want?"
"You left your wrap at the restaurant."
"You called for that?"
"Not really, Jackie. Erik likes you."
"Well I don't like Erik," she sighed, "With a K."
"Actually my real reason for calling is our Las Vegas meet and greet has been pushed up to tomorrow—well actually today. We have to be at the airport in two hours."
Jackie slid down the wall almost disconnecting the telephone. She didn't know whether to cry or laugh. It's not like her job allowed her to play hooky. She was the number one spokes model. What was she doing? It was better when she tried to push Eric out of her mind. Maybe the non-ringing phone meant that he wasn't interested anymore? He could've been married with two small happy babies. He himself might be happy. She said her 'see ya later' goodbye to her work friend and slowly got up to run to her bedroom to pack a quick suitcase. It was time to let these unrequited feelings for Eric go as her magnificent painting looked on.
It was four in the morning when Eric stumbled into his apartment. He had one too many at the bar tonight. He looked forward to his play nights when he could drink a little and f*** a lot. He tripped over his life-size Yoda statue. His answering machine light was blinking. It was his Mother.
"No-t---t—oday, K-kitty," he groaned as he deleted her message mid sentence.
Eric never made it to his bedroom as he passed out on the floor.
Jackie needed that shower. It rejuvenated her as she had to be 'perky Jackie' when she was out in the public eye. She was about to get dressed, as she had to be at the airport in a few minutes when the phone rang. Her first thought was not of Eric this time but her work friend probably to remind her to bring the latest magazines and trashy novels to read on the airplane.
"Hello?" Jackie asked
"Hello, Jackie, it's me Mrs. Forman."
"Hi, how are you?"
"Okay. Red and I just got back from our dinner and movie date."
And the other thing that would be happening as soon as Kitty got off the telephone.
"How is Mr. Forman?"
"Good. I got him to fix the settings on the answering machine so people can leave longer messages. I called Eric---"
"You did? How is he?"
"I wouldn't know. I got his machine."
"Oh."
"I gave him your phone number."
Jackie looked at her clock and realized that it was quite late at least for people Red and Kitty's age. She didn't want to keep Kitty on the phone.
"Thanks. I better let you go...."
She could've inquired about Eric but chose to leave the matter rest and she said her quick goodbye's before Kitty could say any more. She made a mistake calling the Forman's. It was a moment of weakness. Jackie noted that Eric couldn't possibly be married because Kitty probably never would have given Eric her phone number otherwise.
"Bye, Mrs. Forman."
That was the end of that. In less than twelve hours Jackie would be signing 8X10 glossies of herself and posing for pictures for a bunch of horny middle aged married men who fantasized about leaving their nagging wives for a hot young tomato like her. Jackie finished her packing when a large jolt scared the hell out of her. Her first thought was 'earthquake'. She survived two of them already and that was one of the few things she hated about California.
"What in the Hell?"
Her painting fell off the wall. The frame broke and shards of glass were around the fireplace. She was going to have to tell maintenance to clean this mess up.
"Oh," Jackie's heart pierced as she noticed the two perfect intertwined roses on the bed were separated thanks to the piece of glass from the frame that cut through them as if they didn't matter.
She put on her camel colored coat and grabbed her suitcase and purse before turning off the lights. She had a plane to catch.
Special thanks to Jaded Angel—I'm very glad that you are liking this story. I just wanted to say thank you very much for your positive reviews.
*Corrected Jackie's quote to say "Eric Forman" since her 'date' was named Erik.~Carol