Following My Toes (17 page)

“No. It’s not broken or anything. I simply need to ice it for a while. I’ll be fine.”

“But what if it is broken?”

“It isn’t. And even if it was, so what? It’s not like they can put a cast on your tailbone.”

I guess Missy had been listening in the whole time. From the door to my room I heard her say, “Faith, I know you don’t have insurance, so if you’re worried about the money, don’t be. You can totally get workman’s comp for this. Do you want me to talk to my lawyer for you?”

“That’s okay. My insurance from my teaching job doesn’t run out for another month.”

“But even still, you could sue. Especially if your tailbone is broken.”

“It’s not broken. If it was there is no way I would have been able to finish my shift. But thank God Bill was there.”

Missy walked around towards the other side of the bed, and crouched down so she was looking me in the eye. “Bill? You mean from our building?”

“Yeah. He’s so nice. He stayed and helped me serve coffee, and he lent me his inflatable donut pillow so I can sit down. He even blew it up for me.”

“I didn’t know you knew Bill,” Missy replied.

Maybe it was the pain I was in, but Missy had a strange look on her face—like she had eaten something gone bad.

“Yeah, I know Bill. He comes into the coffee shop all the time. Why?”

Missy’s expression changed as she forced her normal demeanor back on. “No reason. Just don’t believe him if he starts talking crap about me, okay?”

“Why would he do that?”

“No reason!” Missy shot back up and left the room. She could be so odd; besides, if Bill happened to “speak crap” about her it would be believable.

Margaret spoke next. “Oh hey, there was a message for you. Some guy called. It’s on the answering machine.”

“Who was it?”

“He didn’t say. He only said you should stop teasing him, or something like that. It was kind of weird.”

Even though it pained me to do so, I got up and went into the living room to listen to my message. It was the unknown voice I had come to recognize. “Hi, it’s me again. You’re still on my mind. You have to stop teasing me like this, or stay out of my way. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” Click.

Missy was in her room getting dressed, so I slowly made my way over to her. “Missy, are you sure that message isn’t for you? You heard it, right?”

“Yeah, I heard it. But that’s your phone line. I have my own line, remember?”

“But we said you could use my line for personal calls, just not the ‘telemarketing.’ Did you maybe give that number out to someone, and then forget?”

“I suppose it’s possible. But I really don’t think so. I think those messages are for you, Faith.”

“But I have no idea who it could be.”

Margaret was hanging out at the edge of the room. “What about that guy whose girlfriend tripped you?” she asked.

“Ethan? I don’t think so.”

Missy finished dressing and turned to face me. “Well why not? I think Margaret could be right. The guy has a crazy girlfriend. Who is to say he’s not crazy himself? Plus, isn’t he the one who left you a sexy message when he asked you out?”

“Yeah, but...”

“It sounds to me like it could be the same voice,” said Missy.

“Faith went out with a stalker!” cried Margaret.

“No I didn’t! It’s not him.”

“How can you be so sure?” inquired Missy. “And what about that light bulb? Huh? He’s a mechanic, and light bulbs are, well, they sort of have to do with mechanics.”

“No they don’t. And he left me a nightlight, not a light bulb. If it was even left for me, which we don’t know that it was.”

“Faith, why would Ethan leave it for me? He doesn’t even know me.”

Actually, according to Ethan, he did know her from the coffee shop. But because I was sure of Ethan’s innocence, it wasn’t worth it to bring that up. “You’re missing the point. It’s simply not him.” Suddenly something occurred to me. I went and listened to the message again. The machine said it was left at 10:38 a.m., which was about an hour after Ethan had left the coffee shop. “Hi, it’s me again. You’re still on my mind. You have to stop teasing me like this, or stay out of my way. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Whomever it was told me to stay out of his way, which was strikingly similar to what Glenn had said to me today. Maybe Missy was right. But if she was, I didn’t want to think about it right then. I didn’t know how much more of this I could take.

“God, I need a drink,” I muttered, loud enough for Margaret to hear me.

“Great! Let’s go out. I’ve been dying to since I got here. Where should we go?”

Missy emerged from her bedroom. “We’re going out? Cool!”

* * *

As it was only half past one when Missy and Margaret decided we were going out, I was able to stall them until later that evening. But once seven o’clock rolled around there was no escape. They insisted I come, and wouldn’t even accept my bruised tailbone as an excuse not to go. “Bring your special donut pillow,” said Margaret. “There’s no shame in it.”

That was easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one who was sitting at a bar table, a foot higher than everyone else, balanced on a round inflatable pillow shaped like a toilet seat. We were at Joe’s Garage, a local hangout known for their tasty chicken wings and strong cock-tails. We were sitting on their rooftop patio, enjoying a view of
Loring
Park
(which Mary Tyler Moore walks through in the opening credits of her show.) I had decided the only way to get through the evening was to become so drunk that the pain and humiliation caused by my predicament no longer bothered me.

I was on my third cosmopolitan, and for the first time all day, I was feeling good. Actually, I take that back. I was feeling good for the first time in months. There was a light yet warm gooey feeling in my arms and legs, and it was as though a huge boulder had been lifted off the top of my brain. Finally I was able to express myself; I had been set free from the burdens that had plagued my psyche for months.

“But who needs men anyway? What are they good for? Nothing! Look at me, for example. I had a man and he left me for my best friend. So I move down here, and what happens? I meet another man with a crazy girlfriend who is out to get me. It’s better to stay alone.” I had been lecturing Margaret all evening with words I was convinced were profound. I banged my arm on the table for emphasis as I made my next point.

“I mean, who the hell is this Glenn girl to trip me anyway? What did I ever do to her? If I were smart I would have kicked her ass!”

Missy answered. “Her name is Glenn? Isn’t that a guy’s name?”

I stopped and thought about it. “I suppose it is. Maybe that’s why she’s so screwed up – she’s angry she has a boy’s name!”

Margaret, who was drinking Dr. Pepper, had been listening the whole time with a patient ear. “I wonder how she found out about you and Ethan. Do you think he told her?”

“Don’t know.” I slurred. “But what was there even to tell? We kissed, that’s all. Unless...” a revelation suddenly came to me, “unless, maybe she knows he’s stalking me! Maybe she’s been helping him! I read about this sort of thing in Cosmo! It’s like one of those sick and twisted codependent relationship games where the girl feels more important because she’s enabling the guy in his dev-eee-ush-nesh!”

“I don’t think so, Faith. If she were helping him, then why would she tell you to stay away from him? That would mean that she was encouraging his fascination with you while trying to end it simultaneously.”

I ignored Margaret’s rational analysis except for the one part I was interested in. “Do you truly think he’s fascinated with me?”

“Can we talk about something else, please? This is all we’ve talked about since we’ve gotten here.” Missy was sitting across from me, dressed in a buttoned white tailored jacket with nothing but a bra underneath, and a matching short skirt. Since beginning her new career, her goal was to look sexy at all times. She had been scoping out the place, and was disappointed Margaret and I weren’t interested in trying to pick up guys along with her.

“No! Tonight it’s all about me, got it? Go ahead, say I’m self-involved and see if I care. Ha! I don’t care.” I must have been swaying a little, and I made a quick movement to grab my drink off the table. In the process I nearly fell off my cushion, and had to catch myself before I toppled off of my chair altogether.

“Faith, maybe we should get you home,” said Margaret.

“No! Tonight it’s all about me, and I want to stay.” I burped, and for a moment became more lucid. “I need to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” inquired Margaret.

“You know!” I waited for her to answer back, but she didn’t. Okay, maybe I wasn’t all that lucid after all. “You know. I need to figure out my roman... my roman-ack... my love life. Why don’t I have one anymore?”

“I thought you didn’t want one.”

“Huh?”

Margaret sighed and continued gently on. “A minute ago you said you didn’t want one.”

“Didn’t want what?”

“A love life.”

“Of course I do! Everyone does. I’m only human, Margaret. I have needs. I need to know why Peter stopped loving me. How Lacey could do that to me. Why Ethan would rather be with that evil Glenn than me. I don’t get it. What’s wrong with me?”

My sweet little buzz was swiftly turning sour, but in my intoxicated state I was convinced the only cure was to drink more. I called the waiter over to our table. “Gimme ‘nother cosmo!” I croaked.

“Sure,” he said hesitatingly. “Do you think maybe she’s had enough?” he said softly to Margaret.

“Hello!” I cried. “I’m right here. I can hear you. And I’m fi ne. I don’t need some man to tell me when I’ve had enough. I want another drink, so please bring it to me.”

I must have talking louder than I realized, because a guy across the bar answered me back. “Hey pillow girl! Shut the hell up, or I’ll give you a real pain in the ass.”

“Oh yeah! I’d like to see you try!” I was ready to leap off my stool and pick a fight, but Margaret grabbed my arm and muttered a severe sounding “Faith, no!” Then Missy interceded.

“Actually, the drink is for me,” she said to the waiter with a wink. She leaned forward seductively so he could see down her jacket. “And don’t worry. It’s my last one, then we’re getting her home.” Missy had the art of sex appeal down, and those simple words did the trick.

After he had left she turned to address me. “You’re going about this all wrong,” she said.

“Huh?” I uttered.

“You get crapped on by the men in your life, and then you whine about it. Then it happens again and you wonder why. Don’t you see that you’re creating a pattern for yourself? You have to stop the pat-tern by breaking the cycle.”

The liquor was squashing my brain as I struggled to understand Missy’s words. “How do I break the cycle?”

“By telling them off. Stand up for yourself. Tell them you aren’t going to take any more. Once you get in the habit of doing so, you’ll exude an aura of confidence, and the guys you meet will know not to mess with you.”

Missy’s words reached past the murkiness of my mind and made perfect sense. “You’re right. I have to stand up for myself. I’ll do it right now. Can I borrow your cell phone?”

Margaret’s eyes widened. “Faith, I don’t think Missy meant you had to stand up for yourself right this minute, did you Missy?”

“Sure I did. Why not right now?” Missy reached into her purse and handed me her phone. As she did the waiter came and placed my drink down in front of her. I reached across the table and took it, swigging it down with a gulp.

“There’s no time like the present!” I cried. I dug into my wallet to find the business card with the number of Ethan’s garage on it. Before I could lose my nerve I dialed the number, and was actually disappointed when I got the answering machine. But I went ahead and left a message anyway.

“Hi Ethan, it’s Faith, you know, the girl whose car you serviced. I wanted to tell you that you and your crazy girlfriend can stop stalking me, okay? And by the way, I wouldn’t have greasy garage sex with you if you were the last mechanic alive. So stop calling me, stop following me, and you can have your nightlight back. Because the only issue I have is with you, and you can tell Glenn that if she trips me again I’m going to kick her ass so hard she’ll be sitting on a donut pillow for the rest of her God forsaken life.” On that triumphant note I hung up, and looked to find Margaret’s horrified expression, and Missy’s proud one.

I chose to pay attention to Missy and to ignore Margaret. “That was fun!” I said to her. “Now I’m gonna call Peter.”

“Faith, I don’t think that’s a good idea. At least wait until you’re sober.” Margaret said.

“Margaret! You don’t get it. If I wait until then, it will never happen. And I have to break the cycle.” I punched in the number I had committed to memory a long time ago. This time there was an answer.

“Hello,” said the familiar voice on the other end of the line.

Hearing him sobered me instantly. All my inhibitions came rushing back, and I was tongue-tied.