Hungry for Love (20 page)

Joan
’
s demeanor instantly became calm.  She said placatingly
,
“
We clean the locker rooms with Clorox.  Also the towels.  People are sweating
,
though
,
but of course it is a gym.
”
  As Joan spoke
,
a couple of guys dripping sweat passed and she glanced toward them trying to make her point without alerting them.

Growing more and more deeply panic-stricken
,
  Chrissy began waving her arms around wildly as though she were attempting to communicate via sign language to someone in a foreign country.  She tried to take a deep breath to regain her inner balance
,
but every time she did the smell was like a massive assault to her brain.  Finally she gasped and jerkily ejected the words as though they were Pez shooting out of a dispenser. 

“
No
,
no
,
no.  Sweat is normal.  Sweat is good.  Wholesome
,
even.
”
  She held the bandana over her mouth for a few seconds and raised her index finger to Joan
,
indicating she would resume speaking as soon as she could manage it.  Finally she said
,
“
I
’
m talking about the
smell.
”
  She glared at Joan. 
“
Do not tell me you don
’
t smell it.
”
  Chrissy waived her arm in the direction of the door and beyond. 

Joan looked toward the door rather perplexed and then as a show of good faith
,
took a deep breath.  Then she returned her gaze to Chrissy
,
who immediately began speaking in a rush of words.

“
I mean the
food
.  I
’
m smelling ratatouille with some sort of chocolate.  Lamb—and a great deal of cinnamon.
”
  She gagged visibly as she continued
,
“
Deep frying….
”

A look of recognition crossed Joan
’
s face at last. 
“
Oh
,”
she said softly
,
“
You mean the deli down the way.
”
  She observed Chrissy nodding vigorously
,
the bandana covering her nose and mouth
,
but her eyes
,
which were pretty much all she
’
d left uncovered
,
conveyed deep horror.  Joan continued even more calmly
,
“
That
’
s not something we can control.
”
  Patting Chrissy on the shoulder
,
she said
,
“
You certainly have an acute sense of smell.
”

Chrissy shrugged Joan
’
s hand off her arm
,
then said with rage
,
“
How are people supposed to concentrate on what
’
s important with that smell
?
  They write horror movies about smells like those.  Didn
’
t you ever read Edgar Allen Pope
?
  He wrote horror stories about religion.
”
  Chrissy paused
,
thinking wait
,
wait
,
wasn
’
t there a bird involved
,
some kind of black chicken
,
but she couldn
’
t be sure of anything and the point was to make her point
,
so with confidence she added
,
“
And bad smells.
”

Joan glanced up at the ceiling
,
trying to place that name
,
but she couldn
’
t.  Then she said
,
“
We can
’
t control the neighbors.  Surely you understand that.
”

Chrissy flailed about
,
alternately waving her hands and pressing the bandana to her face. 
“
I can
’
t breathe in here.  Oh my God!  What if I have to quit this gym
?”

Joan heard the word quit and her face registered worry only for a moment.  The members had contracts.  Nobody could quit.  But still
,
this woman could make some trouble.  People were certainly gazing at them right now.

Chrissy continued
,
“
This place is my oasis.  I could have a breakdown.
”

“
I can
’
t tell you how sorry I am about all this
,”
said Joan
,
echoing what she
’
d heard an army of customer service reps say every time she made a call to complain about anything. 
“
I apologize.  Please accept my apologies.
”

“
Apologies
?”
asked Chrissy with utter disgust.

“
I
’
m going to look into this
,”
said Joan. 
“
And whatever I can do to solve this problem I will.  Zero Tolerance
,
right
?”

“
Yes!
”
said Chrissy
,
semi-placated. 
“
Zero Tolerance.
”

Feeling marginally better but unwilling to leave this travesty in the hands of someone else
,
Chrissy dressed and marched down the street in the direction from which all the toxicity emanated.  She would take whatever steps were necessary.  Envisioning a protest march of similarly disgusted gym patrons holding signs
,
she knew it wouldn
’
t be long before that deli closed its doors and something innocuous took its place.  Maybe a nice greeting card shop.

She looked at the deli
,
a hole in the wall really
,
well a charming hole in the wall
,
called It
’
s Delish.  Delish indeed.  More like de-frightful.  Just as Chrissy was about to stride into the deli with an air of righteous authority
,
seething
,
and muttering some of the precise words she
’
d use when the confrontation took place
,
she noticed to her horror that there inside sat Bill with Laura and she was about to pop a bite of food into his mouth.  His expression told the tale—he looked enraptured
,
anticipatory—and oddly a little terrified.  What did that mean
?
  What sort of hold over him did that cold
,
controlling bitch have
?

Chrissy stopped dead.  Now what
?
  Quickly she turned to walk away
,
but something pulled her back.  So there she was outside that toxic pit
,
marching back and forth like a hypnotized soldier. 

Before she could formulate a strategy
,
Bill and Laura rose.  They were moving!  They would see her!  Quickly Chrissy turned and walked several paces away from the deli and dashed into another shop.  Oh no!  It was Godiva.

The girls inside smiled and greeted her with warmth and friendliness. 
“
Care for a sample
?”
one asked sweetly.  As if.  As if.  The utter gall. 

“
Yeah you
’
d like that
,
wouldn
’
t you
?
  You enslavers of women.  You devils in aprons.  You monsters.  This place is a menace.  It should be closed down.  They all should be closed down.  And you can bet I know what I
’
m talking about.
”
  Chrissy burst into tears as she gazed at a tray of samples being offered to her. 
“
Don
’
t shove that in my face!
”
she commanded.  As she wept
,
she crumpled onto the floor
,
deep in tears while the salesgirls looked to each other
,
clueless about what to do. 
“
I just can
’
t get away from you
,”
Chrissy sobbed
,
and then she finally said the word
,
the word she
’
d vowed never to say again
,
“
And all that deliciousness.
”