My Life as a Doormat (in Three Acts) (16 page)

Chapter 13

[She tries to stare out the window.]

Y
ou're here,” Cinco said when I stepped out of the elevator. I simply nodded. I didn't want to have to explain my identity crisis to a man who didn't seem to need any help defining anything. I wanted to believe I came as an excuse not to have to meet Creyton. But in reality, part of me, deep down inside, knew there was a possibility I could use an overhaul . . . of some sort.

“Last time I saw you, you weren't doing so well.”

“I'm fine,” I said. “Turns out the woman I hit was somebody really important to my . . . brother. The dean's wife.”

Cinco grimaced. “I thought you handled yourself nicely. Maybe this conflict resolution class is coming in handy after all.” He smiled. “So what brought you back?”

“I didn't want to hurt my brother's feelings. He's . . . the overly sensitive type.”

“And telling him you didn't want to attend would cause unneeded conflict.” Luckily his radio-program listeners couldn't see the smug expression he often liked to wear. But I could.

“Marilyn's calling the group,” I said, passing by him and heading directly for Carol. Carol greeted me by squeezing my arm and saying something that I couldn't quite understand. But I smiled and told her I was glad to see her. Surprisingly, even those who weren't ordered by the court had returned to class, and everyone was in attendance from the week before.

Nobody looked in the mood for casual greetings, though. I sat as still as possible and waited for everyone's full attention to shift to Marilyn.

“Good evening, class,” she said. “Tonight we're going to be doing some unusual things, things that I don't think anyone in the class is going to like very much. But rest assured, passing this test will bring you closer to achieving your goal of being able to handle conflict.”

My hand crept up to my neck, which was safely guarded by a summer-weight sleeveless turtleneck. I had one in every color.

“But first, I would like to go around the room and ask everyone to tell me who you would most hate being in conflict with and why. And people, let's be honest, okay? I know this is uncomfortable for many of you, but let me assure you, this will pale in comparison to what we'll be doing later on.”

She laughed, then nodded for Glenda to begin.

“That's easy. Robert. Why? For fear he'd beat the living daylights out of me.”

Everyone looked at Robert. Robert indeed looked like he wanted to beat the living daylights out of her. If ever there was an antagonist, Glenda was it.

Ernest was next. He thought for a minute and then said, “Stuart McDonald. He's the chairman of the committee at my church.”

“And why him, Ernest?” Marilyn asked.

“Because every time we disagree, he threatens either to cut the budget, or my salary, or both. He doesn't say it directly, but he makes it clear in no uncertain terms that he's the one in control. And the fact of the matter is, that's true.”

“Thanks, Ernest. Cinco?”

“My dad. No matter what, he always gets the upper hand in any argument. I've yet to win an argument with him. He's really good.” Cinco said this with both frustration and delight.

“Thanks, Cinco. Robert?”

“Captain Huff. She's the meanest five-foot-two woman I've ever known.”

I tried to imagine Robert arguing with a tiny lady. It made me laugh a little. Then it was my turn.

This was difficult because there were so many people in my life I hated being in conflict with. Edward was the easy choice, but I didn't want to complicate matters by trying to explain this in the context of his being a sibling. My sister was an easy one too, as we'd spent most of our lives in conflict. But with her new turnaround, I was holding out hope that those days were past. Mother was not an easy one to explain. Our relationship was plagued with plenty of unmentionable conflict, where words had alternative meanings and we were just one badly construed sentence away from total estrangement. Elisabeth was a good one, but since I was sort of in the middle of a conflict with her already, I didn't really want to be scrutinized by the group. So I said, “My dad.”

“Why your dad?” Marilyn asked.

“I guess because . . .” I hadn't really thought of it before. I paused to try to find the reason. “I don't want to disappoint him.”

“Thank you. Carol, you're last.”

I leaned in so I could hear Carol. When she was finished, everyone looked to me as her official interpreter. “Carol said her daughter, because she's afraid she might say something that will cause her never to talk to her again.”

Marilyn slapped her hands together like she was a football coach. “All right, gang. It's time for our second task. Grab your things. We're going on a field trip.”

Marilyn drove a passenger van filled with quiet participants.

Cinco had moved to the back, where I sat next to my ever-dependably-quiet friend Carol. He sat in the same seat as me, one row in front. Robert sat next to him and finished blocking my view. But then again, I wasn't sure I wanted to know where we were going.

“So,” Cinco said to me, striking up conversation in the silence, “we both have issues with our fathers.”

“For very different reasons,” I pointed out.

“Maybe not. Sounds like we both respect our dads.”

I nodded. I didn't really want to talk about this while everyone was listening.

“Your father must be very successful, in one way or the other,” Cinco said.

“He is.” I offered no further explanation.

“By the way you're not talking about him, am I to correctly guess he's a CIA covert operative?”

“Did you get your sense of humor from your dad?”

“As a matter of fact, yes I did.”

“And what does he do?”

“He's in journalism.”

“I would've thought you'd have followed in his footsteps.”“I did. I'm a journalist too. Just on the radio.”

Oops. Unintended zinger. Oh well. One for the quiet team.

“So, Leah, I have to ask, I find it hard to imagine why a very attractive woman like you is so unsure of herself.”

The van's occupants grew very still, and even the van's engine seemed to quiet down. While being mortified at the fact that he'd asked that question, I was at the same time distracted by the “very attractive” part.

“Why do you think I'm unsure of myself?” I said, cursing the fact that my voice chose to quiver at that very moment.

Cinco smiled. “I'm interested in people. What makes them tick.”

That's why he hides behind a radio microphone. He can say what he wants, but he never has to say it to people's
faces.

Jodie had a point.

C'mon, Leah! Zing him one!

“What makes them ticked off, from what I hear,” Glenda piped in from the front row.

Cinco laughed. “Fair enough.”

“How do you do it all day long?” I asked. “Engage in combat and enjoy it?”

“I don't always enjoy it. Sometimes we're tackling really tough issues that people are very passionate about.”

“Besides, nice and sensitive radio doesn't make people want to listen. People want to hear people yelling and screaming at each other,” Robert said. “My brother is addicted to your show, even though he almost always disagrees with you.”

“I don't ever yell or scream, but guests and callers have been known to,” Cinco said.

Glenda turned around in her seat. “Oh, give me a break. I've heard you raise your voice a time or two. I just think you're a pompous, arrogant, egotistical, self-centered jerk.” Cinco must have been genuinely surprised by the attack, considering that he couldn't form a comeback. Glenda looked pleased.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it's a human thesaurus,” Robert said.

I tugged at my turtleneck, which had gone from shielding my neck to strangling it.

I had to hand it to Glenda. She was as bold as they came. Of all the people to enter into verbal combat with, Cinco would be the one you'd want to avoid. He did this for a living. But apparently Glenda did it for a pastime.

“Tuesday, January 18, 2004,” Glenda said.

Cinco shook his head, shrugged.

“The topic was the Big Dig,” Glenda said, referring to the famously disastrous underground tunnel project in Boston.

“Okay,” Cinco said. “Still not following.”

“You made a fool of me on the air, but it turns out I was right, wasn't I? It's become one of the biggest financial disasters of our city.”

Cinco sighed. “Glenda, I talk to hundreds of people every week. I don't remember our conversation at all.”

“Like I said. Pompous, arrogant, egotistical, and self-centered.”

“If I'm self-centered, then what does that make the person who expects me to remember only her out of thousands of phone calls?”

Everyone's eyes shifted back and forth between Glenda and Cinco. But to my surprise, Glenda's attention suddenly honed in on me. “What are you looking at?”

Everyone looked at me and I tried to look away, but there was nowhere to look except out the window, and I knew that would only evoke more problems.

“I'm . . . I'm just . . . not . . . you're . . .” The properly structured sentence in my head seemed to have been shaken up like a martini in a tumbler, and now it poured out in the wrong order.

“Why are you picking on her?” Cinco asked. “She's not doing anything to you.”

“Please,” Glenda said. “I can see it all over her face. She's thinking all kinds of nasty thoughts about me. Little Miss Proper Manners, never rocking the boat.” Her glare intensified. “Pegged you, didn't I? You've probably never raised your voice a day in your life.”

The window drew me. I couldn't help it. It was the only safe place for me to look. But as I looked outside, I noticed something peculiar. “Stop and Shop?” I said aloud.

Everyone looked out the window as we pulled into the parking lot. Marilyn parked the van, turned around, and grinned. “Prepare yourselves. This one's going to be a doozy.”

Once inside Stop and Shop, one of two main grocery chains in Boston, Marilyn gathered us near the frozen-food section to explain the task.

“With all the buzz about reality television, I thought it might be fun to add some competition. So we're going to break into teams of two, and whoever wins this task will earn a gift certificate to Mangalos. Mangalos.” Everyone oohed. Mangalos was the newest and most talked about restaurant in Boston. But nobody aahed, because the next step was finding out what hideous thing we were going to have to do.

Marilyn numbered us off to six, and then she explained one and two were a team, as were three and four, and five and six. I whirled around, praying Carol was four. But smiling back at me was Cinco, who shrugged a little too innocently. Carol was paired with . . . Glenda, which left Ernest and Robert.

Marilyn appeared unconcerned as she continued.

“Now, the point of this task is to become reconciled with the fact that in life there will be conflict, and there will be times that the conflict is played out in front of strangers. We're going to learn today how to handle ourselves gracefully when the heat is turned up.

“So the object of the task is to stall in line as long as you can. The pair that stalls the longest will win the restaurant certificates. In my hand is the scenario you will be playing out while in line.” She handed each team a card. I read over Cinco's shoulder.

NUMBER THREE, YOU WILL HAGGLE THE CASHIER, CLAIMING SHE OWES YOU FIVE PENNIES. NUMBER FOUR, YOU WILL STAND BEHIND HIM/HER AND CAUSE A BIGGER SCENE THAN HE/SHE IS CAUSING, CLAIMING YOU HAVE TO GET THROUGH THE LINE QUICKLY.

I glanced around at the other pairs. No one looked happy. Carol looked like she was about to cry. I felt the same way. I turned to Cinco and said, “I hope you're comfortable with losing, because I can already tell you I won't be any good at this.”

Cinco gently took my elbow and led me a few steps away. “Come on, Leah. There's nothing like a good competition, right? And what a prize!”

I tried to smile. “I would eat dirt right now if it meant I didn't have to do this.”

“You'll never see these people again.”

“Can you assure me of that?” I whispered.

“Not really, but the chances that you will ever see one of these people again is very slim. Besides, who cares what they think about you? You don't even know them.”

“Look, I understand your biological makeup makes these kinds of things pleasantly enjoyable for you. But for those of us who weren't ordered by the police to be here, this is kind of a nightmare.”

He shocked me to the extreme by taking my hand. I glanced around, but everyone else was immersed in their own cue cards. “Leah, we can do this. I know there's a tiger in you waiting to roar.”

“Okay, first of all, let's kill the clichés. If there's anything at all inside me waiting to roar, it would most definitely not be from the feline family. I'm deathly allergic to cats.” I tried to say that string of sentences with a completely serious face. Cinco just looked amused. “Second of all, what makes you want to win so badly?”

Cinco took my shoulders and turned me around so I faced Glenda and Carol. Whispering in my ear he said, “I just don't want Glenda to win. Look at her. Already she's talking to Carol like she's a child.”

I turned back to face Cinco. “Is that your entire motivation in life? Just to beat other people at your game or theirs?”

He smiled. “That's it! That's the kind of fire we need. Think you can transfer that over to the cashier who supposedly shorted you five pennies?”

I rolled my eyes. And then Marilyn said, “All right, everyone. It's time.”

My knees actually went weak, but to my surprise, I felt Cinco's hand on my back, and strangely it reassured me. I realized if there was anyone in this crazy group meant to do a task like this, Cinco was the one. His unintended smugness was aggravating, but he was certainly the most balanced of the group.