Do Overs (2 page)

“Phone in sick, Lila.” Sarah’s voice reached across my thoughts. I don’t know if she’d said anything else because my brain buzzed like a beehive.

“Right.” I fled to the living room. In an apartment occupied by four young women I expected someone to be using the phone, but for once it was free. I grabbed the handset and before I even realized I shouldn’t remember my old work number, I tapped it out. Guess my mind retained all this trivial knowledge like a long forgotten locker full of all sorts of useless junk.

I got the answering machine at the office and left a hasty message for Tammy Hewitt, my boss. I lied about throwing up all night and a temperature of one hundred and two. Anything less would have her calling me and ordering me into the office.

Well, now free of that commitment, I retreated to my little twin bed and pulled my blanket over my head. I needed to think and that required some privacy. Sarah left me to it. She probably thought me completely insane. After rustling around the closet, Sarah escaped my private loony bin, shutting the door quietly behind her.

What to do, what to do.

Maybe if I went back to sleep I could wake up back where—when—I belonged. I’d get ready for work and have coffee with Bob and all would be right with the world.

My boring, old, predictable world.

I drew in another deep breath and held it. Even lying down, my head spun. Tiny pricks of anxiety circulated through my hands. I shook them quickly, but the tingles wouldn’t go away. Too bad I was wide-awake. If I wanted to get back to being forty-four I’d just have to wait, a prospect that intrigued and scared the hell out of me at the same time.

Or I could stay like this, remaining in my younger and slimmer body, knowing now what I didn’t know then and take a stab at doing everything over again. Sheer craziness. That’s what staying in this
yesterday
would be. How in the world could I turn away from everything I’d built in my life, my career? My marriage?

How much would I do the same
? Bob? My career? Could I go in a completely new direction?
Make this yesterday my new tomorrow?

I pulled the blanket down and gathered it under my chin. Above me the stars were barely noticeable, but I studied each star in Orion. The prickly sensations in my hands dissipated and my rapid heart slowed.

I bit my bottom lip and my heart quickened again, but not in that dreadful way it had a few minutes ago. Thoughts built in my head. I wanted so much more, things Bob and the old me considered impractical fluff. Like my gardening and my art, hobbies I gave up completely because I didn’t have the time for them.

I learned over the years to stuff that disappointment away underneath all the other responsibilities in my life, but just thinking about planting a garden, hell, even mowing a lawn or clipping hedges, filled me with warmth.

As far as my whole relationship with Bob went, well, maybe that needed some rethinking. If this was really a do over, then did I want to do it over again with him? I didn’t want to reflect on the life I had with him, but couldn’t really help it.

When was the last time we’d said we loved each other? Kissed each other
.
I mean really kissed. Like we meant it
.

I came up blank on both accounts.

I turned over on my side, curling my body up into the fetal position. How in the world did this happen? Where did Bob and I lose it? God, when I really thought about our relationship, I realized, with a cold, heavy weight settling in my stomach, that I don’t think we ever really had one.

At twenty-three, I was such a diehard romantic. I loved love. Maybe my problems stemmed from that. I’d been more concerned with the emotion and not the source.

But what woman didn’t want to go through googly-eyed, hand holding sticky sweet love? The kind that successful romance writers pen in best-selling novels. I discovered long ago the emotions I’d wished for belonged in fiction because most of the men I knew were just interested in taking advantage of my starry eyed gaze so they could get physical.

Well, except for Bob.

For Bob, romance wasn’t a requirement in a relationship. That kind of emotion was as foreign to him as some exotic insect in the depths of the Amazon. But at least he’d never used it to get into my bed. Maybe that’s why I married him.

“Lila, could you get that?”

Misty’s voice pulled me from my little cocoon of introspection. She yelled from her room without regard to any neighbors who might still be sleeping.

Ah, to be young and selfish.

Annoyance grew around my sadness and I untangled myself from my blanket and plodded out to the living room where the phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Hey Lila, is Misty there?”

I knew I should recognize the voice, delving back into that dusty footlocker of discarded memories.

“Sure, um,” I stumbled, not coming up with the name I needed. “Can I tell her who’s calling?”

“Colin.” He laughed.

Oh. Colin
. Yeah, I remembered him. Boy, did I remember Colin.
“Hold on, I’ll see if she’s available.”

I set the phone down on the couch and went to Misty’s room. I heard giggling from behind the closed door. I tapped lightly.

“Busy.” Her single word reply broke into a high-pitched squeal.
Yeah, I bet.
A rumbling male voice followed another Misty giggle.

“It’s Colin.” I persisted. Not likely she’d respond and I remembered more of the reason why I didn’t like her too much. She played with men like a kid plays with vegetables. Lots of rearranging and pushing around, but never settling on any real relationship.

“Busy. Tell him—God, I don’t care what you tell him.” Her tone became insistent.

Fine
.

I sighed and turned away even though I wanted to knock down the door and drag Misty out to take care of her own dirty work. Yet again I’d be the one to deal with the discarded boyfriend and it made me angry. I set my shoulders straight and marched back at to the phone.

Hell no, I wasn’t going to do this again.

I may have been back to my younger self, but I had years of being Director of Human Resources to back me up.

If I were really evil I’d invite Colin over and let him see what a girl he’d found himself. I didn’t have the heart to do it though. Break it to him or invite him over. I picked up the
phone.

“Hey Colin, guess you missed her. Can I leave her a message?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll catch up with her later.” He didn’t sound disappointed. “Actually maybe you could help me out. Are you busy?”

“Not at the moment.” I sank onto the couch. What the heck would he want with me? Guys like him didn’t do things with girls like me.

Then it dawned on me. My mouth formed an O and I closed my eyes. I remembered this conversation. I started it with him twenty or so years ago. He asked me for help and I, being a good doo bee, turned him down. Even if Misty were doing the horizontal mambo with some other dude, she and Colin were still—technically—an item, as were Bob and I.

Of course, I’d never played hooky from work before. But could I say yes to Colin this time around?

I couldn’t speak for a long moment. I pushed my hair back from my face and collapsed against the sofa. Was this the fork in the road?

I really didn’t want to spend another lifetime with the same regrets, that I never tried anything a little dangerous, a little off the beaten path. Not that Colin likely had anything completely crazy in mind. The guy was an artist. A very sexy artist. He probably wanted me to wash his paintbrushes or something mundane like that.

“Misty was supposed to pose for me.” Colin’s deep, smooth and sexy voice caressed my senses. If I hadn’t been sitting I think I would have melted into the living room carpet. It almost didn’t matter what he said. “But apparently she’s forgotten. Again. I have a deadline. Maybe you could pose instead?”

A little warning light went on in my head.

Pose? What kind of pose? I’d seen Colin’s work. The guy had a talent for art. Not for that strange
modern art
stuff my professors pushed on us in college, but actual, honest to gosh art I not only recognized, but also admired.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fully clothed.” Colin laughed. Damn, the man could read my mind. Embarrassed heat flooded my cheeks. “Actually I want to go up to the Eastern Prom.”

Eastern Prom. Not too far away from my place of business. But what was the chance of someone from work recognizing me?

An invisible fist tightened in my belly. I remembered the same horrible, crawling sensation from the past, when I’d tried so hard to impress Tammy. And Bob for that matter. Anxiety.

The fear of letting someone down.

I shoved that apprehension aside, harnessed my inner director and accepted.

We agreed to meet an hour later at the Prom by the bow of the ship memorial. I would wear a summery dress.

What the hell am I doing?

Crazed butterflies took over my stomach. I never posed for anything before in my life. I avoided posing for photographs whenever possible. Posing for a painter would involve staying still.

I shoved my misgivings away along with all the other questions about this surreal turn in my life. Better to not to think of them, because if I did, Sarah would find me huddled in the corner of my room drooling. Then they’d take me off to the mental ward where I’d be put away forever.

No, best to play this
fantasy
out and see where it took me. At least my surroundings were familiar. Imagine my horror if I’d been transported into the body of someone else in a place
where English wasn’t spoken. No, here I knew. I could walk down the street with comfort. That knowledge grounded me.

I showered quickly and to my bedroom where I could only grimace at the contents of my closet.

Summery dress.

I didn’t need an excellent memory to know I didn’t have any summer dresses. I found plenty of plain, sensible pants, skirts and tops. My Tammy Hewitt wanna-be outfits reminded me of my pathetic devotion.

I shoved coat hangers aside anyway, went from one side of my closet to another, desperation mixing with disgust. Nothing here would qualify for summery or dreamy. The dreamy was my description, not Colin’s. He did briefly tell me what he wanted to capture with this piece. I filled in the rest. Of course, I didn’t have the appropriate garment for his painting.

So I’d have to go out and buy one.

Misty and her mystery man lingered in the kitchen. Wearing little more than a handkerchief of a nightie, my roommate leaned against her man as he gazed into the fridge. His bare torso screamed “jock” and his USM shorts hugged his butt.

He looked over at me and grinned, giving me a wave. Misty ignored me, but smiled indulgently at him. She liked the big jocks. The dumber the better. Which meant her and Colin made no sense whatsoever.

I gave the hunk a tight smile. Didn’t care. Wasn’t my business. Misty was a big girl and certainly old enough to take care of herself. I chuckled. She’d marry one of those buff jocks one day and he’d develop a beer gut the size of a nine month pregnant belly, lose his hair and his jobs at about the same rate.

But I wasn’t going to be catty.

I said goodbye and left her and Beefcakes to themselves. I had to hurry to the Old Port and the little second hand shop that would no doubt yield the exact dress I needed.

Twenty minutes later, I left the shop and swished my way up to Congress Street then up Munjoy Hill. The hike wore me out but when I reached the Prom, the cool air coming off the Bay instantly relieved my overheated body. I hadn’t done a walk like that in years and it invigorated me.

To have the time to get out and stretch my legs was worth skipping work. I’d have to do it more often. Though somewhat busy now, the Prom would be bustling with picnickers by noon. I wondered what Colin had in mind for a location, away from the entire normal hullabaloo.

He arrived and birds sang.

Okay, they were seagulls and they weren’t exactly singing, but Colin inspired those thoughts from me anyway. I’d been jittery, and lightheaded pretty much all day, and this moment was no different. Except this edginess had totally different reasons. These were pleasant butterflies instead of anxious ones.

I remember now why I turned him down the “first” time he asked me if I could help him out. The guy had Hollywood good looks with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen and a tall, lanky build. He’d pulled shaggy hair back into a ponytail as careless as the paint splattered jeans and baseball shirt he wore. I never dated a guy like him. Not that I’d call this a date, but still, he and I didn’t run in the same circles and it felt a little exciting.

Playing hooky and hanging out with a talented artist all in one day. Oh yeah, and jumping back over twenty years in time. Pretty freaky.

But here I stood, living a moment I turned down the first time. I straightened and told myself to make the most of it. Tomorrow I could be forty-four again, so should this be a one shot deal then I had to live it to the fullest.