Checked (5 page)

We all stand. Mandy takes the straw out of her margarita and uses it as the world’s smallest microphone. Melanie grabs a fake flower from the arrangement on the end table and pushes it behind my ear, without missing a note.

By the time we get to our big finish, Monica has been done singing for at least a minute and a half. Melanie and I plop back down on the couch, but Mandy announces that it’s time for her to call Josh. She grabs her cell phone and heads upstairs to her room.

“How long will this call last?” Melanie asks in a nauseated voice.

“At least forty-five minutes. Be nice,” I tease. “She could be sleeping around with all the other college sophomores on campus.” And then I’d have to move out. I have a hard enough time when she has friends over who may or may not be sleeping with multiple guys. Just the thought of her sorority sisters makes me want to stop everything and disinfect the living room.
Thank God I have my own bathroom…

“I’m not saying anything. They’ve been pulling off this long distance thing much longer than I would’ve bet on.”
Yeah—much better than I did
. Is she thinking that too? She reaches over to me and takes the fake white rose out of my hair.

“If I have forty-five minutes, I’m going to take my shower now.” She stands up and puts the rose back in its vase before walking to the hall bathroom.

As I straighten up the living room, rearranging the throw pillows and taking my empty margarita glass to the kitchen, I decide that now is probably a good time to check my email. So, after washing my glass, drying it, and putting it back in the cupboard, I head upstairs. I can hear Mandy giggling across the hall as I step into my room and gently shut the door.

Laptop open. One email from DA Blake.

The subject line reads, “Follow-up Question.” Count. Click.

Calista,

3.) 1,400. Every single day?

-Dr. Blake

Count. Reply.

Dr. Blake,

3.) Always 1,400. Yes.

-Calista

One. Two. Three. Send. Empty inbox. Shut laptop.

When I get back to the living room, Melanie is on the couch playing some word game on her phone. We decide to begin Disc 4.

Mandy comes back in after we finish about half of an episode. She carries a pitcher of margaritas and fills up Melanie’s glass and then her own.

“How’s Josh?” Melanie asks, sounding genuinely interested. Impressive. I try to catch her eye to silently thank her for her efforts, but she is still looking at Mandy.

Mandy plops down on the loveseat. She tells us how much she and Josh miss each other. As she divulges her plans to see him next weekend, I try to catch Melanie’s reaction. She, however, is already looking at me with a concerned glance.

Oh. Right. The being left alone thing. She knows I can spend entire nights when I am alone searching for hidden murderers around the house. I used to stay with her when Mandy went away, but recently I’ve been trying to suck it up on my own. No murderers have shown up as of yet so I must be doing something right.

I try to ignore Melanie’s anxious look and instead focus on Mandy’s babble of plans. Melanie eventually turns to Mandy as well. It appears that she is softening a bit to this whole relationship between Mandy and Josh. I know she thinks they are young to be so committed, but maybe she finally recognizes that she and Doug were also young when they got together.

Besides, it’s probably better to be nineteen and committed instead of twenty-four and alone. Somehow, Melanie seems to be following my thoughts yet again.

“So, Callie, how is class with Dr. Gabriel?” She sounds all sing-songy as she says his name. She knows I hate talking about him.

“He’s somehow managing to balance having me as an assistant and trying to impress me while simultaneously pretending that I don’t exist. I think he’s still pretty pissed about last year.”

I had Dr. Gabriel for my Journalistic Writing I class last fall. We ran into each other on campus in the spring, and he asked me out. After I said no, I, of course, was assigned his class for my TA position. That’s just the miserable way the world spins for me.

“You should have just said yes,” Mandy chimes in.

“Now there is a piece of journalism,” I reply with a smile. “Sex-crazed professor captures virgin extraordinaire.”

Melanie laughs. “You are probably the only one who has ever said no to him. All those literary grad students can’t resist living out the handsome, poetic professor falls for young, naïve student storyline.”

I smile, thinking of the girls I’ve seen walking with him on campus.

“You’re right. I’m pretty strong to settle for the Emily Dickinson-style ‘just me and my writing’ character.”

I do hope things get less awkward with Dr. Gabriel. I guess I should be glad that he actually asked for my commentary today in class, even though he seemed rather disinterested when I gave it. Eventually, he will have to give in and introduce me to the class, especially before I start teaching in November. He’ll probably wait until the last second. My discomfort in class seems to be my punishment for turning him down.

Oh well. At least the TA job is paying for my tuition. The awkwardness must be worth that. I think.

We watch another
Friends
episode and discuss Mom’s upcoming birthday. I’ll pick out the gift and wrap it, we’ll split the cost among the three of us and Jared, and we’ll all have dinner with Mom and Dad to celebrate. Pretty standard.

11:30 p.m. Mandy and Melanie both seem to be dozing off. I pull Melanie’s blanket over her and take Mandy’s glasses off of her face, setting them on the end table. I power off the television and DVD player and turn off the living room light.

Time for night preparations. But first, I head to my laptop.

One email, sent shortly after my last reply. Count. Click.

Calista,

3.) For how many years?

Aren’t you supposed to be at Girls’ Night?

-Dr. Blake

Count. Reply.

Dr. Blake,

1. For as long as I can remember.
   

Yes, it is Girls’ Night. There was a break in the action.

-Calista

Count. Send.

Laptop closed. Night preparations—GO!

IT’S AROUND 12:45 A.M. WHEN I finish cleaning Mandy’s room and begin painting my nails. As I wait for my nails to dry, I wonder if there will be any more questions tonight.

After three minutes of drying, it is time to open my laptop again.

He wrote.

Calista,

1. What would you eat if you had a day when calories didn’t count?
   

-Dr. Blake

That is his question? At almost 1:00 in the morning?

Fast count. Onetwothreeclick.

Dr. Blake,

1. Nachos covered in melted cheese.
   

Why do you keep replying tonight? I’m sure you are well aware that I can’t go to sleep until my inbox is empty.

-Calista

Onetwothreesend.

What the hell?
It’s Friday night. Doesn’t he have something else he could be doing? Sleeping, perhaps?

I remember that little dark-haired boy in the picture on his bookshelf. He’ll probably be up and ready to watch cartoons or something in just a few short hours.

DING. Another email.

Count. Click.

Calista,

Yes. I am aware. Just testing to see how long it takes you to offer some unsolicited information about your condition.

Good Night,

Dr. Blake

This was a test?
Damn it.

I can’t shake my irritation as I continue my routine, folding, dusting, and scrubbing. Did he even need answers to those follow-up questions or were they just stupid pawns in his little game?
{And here is Avril Lavigne with
“Complicated.”
}
Shower. Cleaned. Shaved. Dried. Lotioned
. {Avril begins her thirty-third rendition of the song. This one goes out to Dr. Aiden Blake.}

Finally, I get to the point where I can turn the television on. Spicy meatloaf tonight—doesn’t sound very appetizing. Doesn’t matter. Sleep.

Chapter 6

saturday

APPARENTLY, DR. BLAKE CLOCKS IN on Saturdays too. There is an email waiting for me when I wake up. He sent it at 7:00 a.m. Maybe that dark-haired little boy did get him up to watch some cartoons. I briefly wonder if his wife or girlfriend, or whoever the mother of that boy is, gets irritated that he works on the weekends.

All right. List number three coming up, no doubt.

Count. Click.

Calista,

Here is your third list.

1.) Drugs/Alcohol

2.) Money

3.) Flowers

What time is confession today?

-Dr. Blake

Why? Does he want to come? I can’t see how knowing the time will lead to any help in my treatment.
Ugh!

Reply.

Dr. Blake,

1.) Drugs/Alcohol

• I have never touched any drugs (nor will I).
  
• It astounds me that people using drugs have such a blind eye when it comes to germs. Of course, I’m terribly appalled that anyone would voluntarily stick a needle into his or her skin and repulsed by the fact that that very needle might have just been lodged underneath someone else’s skin. However, I also find it disgusting that people merely pass a joint around in a circle without reflecting on the germ-infested—
  

I stop and sit, picking at my nail polish. I’m probably giving him too much information.

I quickly delete everything but my first sentence.

1.) Drugs/Alcohol

• I have never touched any drugs.
  
• I have one margarita every Friday night.
  

2.) Money

What does he want to know? My current checking account balance? Maybe he is asking for my bank account number like that stranger in Nigeria.

I smile at the thought. I won’t be giving that information to either of them, although I am giving this man all kinds of other information about myself that I don’t really tell anyone else…

Okay, money.

2.) Money

• Some money saved to buy a house after grad school.
  
• Trying to pay down undergraduate school loans.
  

Hmm…good enough.

3.)  Flowers

Seriously? Flowers?
I don’t know, Dr. Blake, what kind of flowers do you like to buy for that woman in the picture with your son? Does she like it when you ask your patients such date-like questions?

Calm down, Callie. One. Two. Three.

3.) Flowers

• Yellow roses
  

Confession is at 4:00 p.m.

-Calista

Count. Send.

8:00 a.m. Time to get my morning routine moving. Melanie has already gone home to spend the morning with Abby. Mandy will be asleep in her room until around noon. That will give me plenty of time.

Thermostat: 70 degrees. Stove: off. Door: locked. (
Thank you, Melanie
. She hasn’t forgotten once since I gave her a spare key.) Blinds: opened. Alarm: off. (It was set for 8:30 this morning—just in case.) Teeth: brushed. Pictures: straightened. Living Room: cleaned. Floor: swept. Refrigerator: sorted. Dishes: washed. Kitchen Floor: scrubbed. Doorknobs: wiped. Laundry: started. Prayers: said. Bathroom: sanitized. Bathroom Floor: steam-mopped. Shower: taken. Body: cleaned, shaved, lotioned, and weighed. Hair: dried and styled. Clothes: on.