What Would Oprah Do (7 page)

When I got to the address Betty’s mom had left on my voicemail, I wasn’t sure I was at the right place. It was a bungalow style house, old Atlanta. Charming and quaint, it was the kind of house I had thought James and I would be living in. I felt a surge of annoyance, as I thought about how different my life was supposed to be now. Reminding myself that he wasn’t the one for me, since the right one would never fuck his boss, I took a deep breath and walked to the door. I knocked twice, waiting between each one, but no answer. Thinking that she had forgotten I was coming and wasn’t home, I was relieved that I could leave. I knocked one more time for good measure. As I turned to walk back to my car, the door opened to a woman with a round face peering out from a floppy straw hat. “You, my dear, must be Cate.” She had a warm welcoming smile and bright blue eyes, younger than I would have imagined since Betty had to be over fifty. “Come on back,” she motioned with her free hand, the other was holding a small shovel, “I’ll show you the garden.” The house was open, with a living room, flowing into a dining room, followed by the kitchen. There were plants everywhere, tropical looking trees in every corner and hanging baskets in nooks around the kitchen. Through the kitchen, big glass doors opened into an enormous back yard, much bigger than what normally accompanies houses of that size. “If you’re thirsty, I’ve got a pitcher of sun tea that should be brewed by now.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”
I said, figuring that even though Betty must have told her I didn’t have experience, no reason to get comfortable until we established that I had the job.

She stepped through the doors and before I could follow her, she was back with a pitcher of sun tea. “Have some anyway. It’s good for you.”
She had small green leaves in her hand. She dropped them in the pitcher, before pouring it over two glasses filled with ice. “Mint,” she answered my silent question, “it’s so refreshing.” She handed me a glass and took a sip of the other one. “I’m Vivian,” she said, “but you probably sorted that out already.”

“Nice to meet you, Vivian.”
I said.

“Come on outside.” she said as she opened a drawer and grabbed a pack of cigarettes. “You smoke?”
I asked.

“Don’t give me a lecture. I’m too old for lectures, and I don’t give a shit.”

“Me either!”
I replied. “I mean I’m not too old for lectures, but I smoke.”

“Oh good,” she said, “It’s horrible you know.”
Vivian handed me a cigarette and walked outside. I eagerly followed. There were plants everywhere. Pots inside the perimeter of the deck, baskets on the railing. There was foliage and flowers everywhere I looked, making it hard to focus on any one thing.

There was a glass patio table on the back deck, she sat down and lit her cigarette before handing me the lighter. It wasn’t the cheap colorful plastic kind like I get at the gas station. It was silver with her initials engraved on it. “So Cate, tell me about yourself.”

I lit mine, and took a drag before answering. Her cigarettes were long and thin, as dainty as a cigarette could be. “I got laid off, and now I’m trying to figure out what to do with my life. So I’m looking for something part
-time to keep busy, and I like flowers.” Since Betty had probably told her as much, I didn’t try to sell myself. When Vivian didn’t say anything, I wondered if I was mistaken. “I’m a quick learner, and I work hard.” I added in hope that this wouldn’t be a rerun of my meeting with Betty.

Vivian looked at me for a moment before saying, “What about you, though? What do you want to do with your life?”

“I don’t know.”
I answered before I jumped at the feel of something warm and wet on my wrist. “Oh shit!” I yelled as I looked down to see a big black dog, a face like a baby bear with short round ears and a fuzzy tail like a squirrel’s.

Vivian laughed. “That’s Buddy. He’s a lover, just can’t help it, giving people kisses before he even introduces himself.”

I tried to compose myself, petting his head, sending his tail into a wagging frenzy. “Aw, he’s so sweet. His ears feel like velvet, they’re so soft. I could love on him all day.”
I said, as Buddy licked my wrist again.

“Well, I’m glad you like him. That’s the only requirement for the job if you want it.”
I didn’t know a single detail, but was so pleasantly surprised by Vivian that it didn’t matter to me what the job was. I quickly answered, “I want it.”

“Pays eight dollars an hour, same as Betty’s
, but I only need you here about ten hours a week. Whether you want to do it all in one day, or spread it out, it’s fine with me either way.”

“What kind of help do you need?”

“I just need somebody to pitch in. It’s gotten to be too much, but I’m not ready to retire. In a few years I’ll probably limit my gardening to my personal enjoyment, but for now I still like having it as a business too.”
Vivian took a short puff off of her cigarette, even looking graceful while smoking. I watched her, hoping that some of her mannerisms would rub off on me. Maybe I could be the girl who wears a white shirt that doesn’t have coffee stains or whatever was breakfast on the front of it. “It’s a good way to find yourself,” she said, “playing in the dirt.” I wondered if it was obvious that I was lost. Vivian seemed to read my mind. “It’s alright, love. Everyone loses their way now and again.”

After we smoked, Vivian took me through the garden, explaining that she had bought two lots, planning on expanding the house someday. As each year came and went, she outgrew her garden space. So she decided to turn the second lot into a garden. There was a greenhouse at the edge of the other lot. The glass looked like it was frosted with moisture. The garden space was so beautiful, the way she had rows of flowers mixed with the vegetables.

“Before you go,” she said, “let’s get you something to grow at home.” Vivian walked into the kitchen and came back with one of her hanging baskets from inside. “This is a Wandering Jew.”

It was a big plant with purple leaves that looked like they had been painted around the edges with pale green.

“I can’t take that.” I said, taken aback by her generosity.

Vivian handed me a small terracotta pot with potting mix in it. “It’s staying here, but we’re going to make you your own.”
She handed me pruning shears, and was holding another pair in her hands. “This is like you. We can take parts of it and given a little attention, it will grow into its own.” She began to snip the longer vines, showing me where to cut. When we had about fifteen vines, she showed me how to gently place them in the dirt. “Now when you get this home just spritz it with water, but not so much that it drains. It has everything it needs to develop roots. And not only do plants help the air quality of your home, it’s good to have something to take care of.”

I loved the easiness of her voice, and learning about the plants. If Vivian didn’t have to leave for a doctor’s appointment, I could have stayed all day.

The next morning I headed straight to the animal rescue. I wore my sneakers and a warm up-suit again, in the off chance that I’d get to go to the kennel and walk the dogs. Alexis wasn’t there, but the front door was open. She had left me a note on the computer screen. It was longer than the one I’d left her, and certainly devoid of smiley faces. “Cate, there isn’t a database yet. I need you to create one. I have an important appointment this morning, and won’t be here to walk you through it. Your application said you have database management experience, so you should be able to figure it out. Also, if you could try to keep your work space clean, that would be great. I need to devote my time to finding forever homes for the dogs and can’t spend my time cleaning up after you.”

After making sure that I was indeed there by myself, I yelled to no one
“WHAT THE HELL?!
”
I couldn’t believe that while I was volunteering my time, she was belittling my efforts. My experience is in analyzing pre-existing marketing databases, not creating doggy databases! It was all I could do to keep myself from walking right out the door. With one glance at the daily calendar and the irresistibly sweet face of the golden retriever in the picture, I decided to stay. I wasn’t going to let some Junior League type bitch run me off.

I didn’t have a clue how to create a database, so I organized each application with key words. I had almost finished entering the information from one stack when I heard the beep from Alexis’s car alarm. I tried to look engrossed in the computer screen so I wouldn’t have to talk to her. It was pointless since she came in chatting away on her cell phone. As much as I tried to tune her out, her sing song voice permeated the room, “Bill’s firm is already donating a number of items for the silent auction…This fundraiser needs some high profile names. I can’t carry the whole thing by myself again…What about Mimi Jackson as a co-host? I chaired her leukemia fundraiser last year, it’s the least she can do…”
I thought I had managed to be invisible, but she came in and propped her small ass on the edge of the desk, with a tight smile in my direction. As she blabbered on, I couldn’t help but notice her nails, perfect French manicure. There was a familiar fragrance too. As it dawned on me that it was the smell of grapefruit sugar scrub, I realized what her important appointment was. That bitch had been at the day spa!

I was so pissed I didn’t notice she’d gotten off the phone until she said, “Cate, I need you to call Le Chanterelle and reserve space for the fundraiser. It’s a nice French restaurant down by…”

I cut her off, “I know Le Chanterelle.”
She looked taken aback; either surprised that I knew a nice restaurant or she’d never been interrupted before.

“Good.”
She pursed her lips and got her ass off the desk. “We need space for a hundred, and get them to send over sample menus, so I can make the selections.” She left the room before I could respond, which was undeniably for the best. I sat there wondering how I had become a poorly treated administrative assistant, who worked for free. When she popped her head back in to check my progress, I asked if the event was black tie. I was going to manage to work my Gucci dress into the conversation, pretending I needed to pick it up from the cleaners as if it had ever been worn.

“Yes,” she answered “but don’t worry, I don’t expect you to attend.”
She eyed me up and down, the way Barbara used to do, but with a fake grin. “You’re fine here, in your sporty attire.”

Her cell phone rang, and she left the room. I tried to stay calm, taking deep breaths. I shouldn’t go to Le Chanterelle for at least a year anyway since the chef had been at my blue cheese fiasco. Deep breaths didn’t work, and my two hours were almost up. I left, without leaving the note that I had written in my head. It wouldn’t have fit on a post-it anyway, a tracing of my hand, all knuckles except for my middle finger.

Dear Oprah,

Yesterday I was watching a rerun of when you had Reggie Wells, your make-up artist, on the show. I loved him! I could use a Reggie in my life, and not just because I need someone to transform my face and turn the bags under my eyes into smooth skin before applying perfect eyelashes. Like every other single girl in the world, without the companionship of a gay man, I might as well be a woman without an island. He was talking about not complaining and focusing on being happy, which is something I’m working on too. Please give him an extra hug today, from me.

Regards,

Cate

P.S. If you ever do an O makeover in Atlanta, I’d like to be first on the list for an appointment with Reggie.

After I left the animal rescue and bitchy Alexis, I was all wound up with nowhere to go. As much as I wanted it to be five o’clock or close enough to justify
happy hour, it wasn’t quite noon. These are the moments when you know you should exercise, unwinding with yoga or releasing tension with a kickboxing class. Unfortunately these are also the moments when those options are the least appealing, like when I was a kid and craving something sweet and my mom would tell me to eat an apple. I wished I could just show up at Vivian’s; absorb some of her peaceful nature into the petulance that had taken over me, but I wasn’t due back until tomorrow.

In the spirit of trying to create my own peace, my own Oprah-
esque existence, I decided to go to Home Depot and get more plants for my place. I walked into the garden area, overwhelmed by the selection which was foreign to me. As I looked through the plants, I pulled out the plastic labels inserted in the dirt and read. Full sun, partial light, foliage, humidity, pruning requirements, there were so many things to learn. I looked around for a brochure, some sort of dictionary guide to decipher the labels.

Not seeing anything, I put an Aloe Vera plant in my cart. At least I knew what it was. As a child, I had seen pictures of the plant on bottles of Aloe Vera juice which crowded our refrigerator. My mom had been a Lady Love representative, and their mainstay was peddling the concoction. African violets were on sale, feature plant of the week. I didn’t know anything about them, but liked the name and the little purple flowers.

“Need some help?” I looked up to see a smiling, tall, gorgeous man behind the deep voice. Despite the fact that he clearly worked there, wearing an orange apron and work gloves, the ridiculous reflex of a scowl had already crept on my face. Not seeming to notice, he said, “Good choice, African violets are my boyfriend’s favorite.” My face relaxed from the knee jerk reaction to a sheepish smile. It’s not a reaction from a misguided belief that every man is hitting on me. I know better. It’s a protection mechanism to keep me clear of men like James. After the break up, I started reading a self help book and now understand why I have since kept a hostile distance from men. If the book hadn’t been so fucking boring, I would’ve finished it and learned how to better develop my coping skills.

The guy was standing there, smiling at me with his eyebrows raised, and I realized that I hadn’t said a word. “Oh, um, yeah” I stammered, “I could use some help. I need one more plant, something tall, but not like a tree because it’s going to be indoors.”

“Oh-
kaaay”, he said as he turned his head, looking at the options around us.

“I guess it’s obvious that I don’t know anything about plants.”

“Do I know you?” he asked, looking back at me. “I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

I shook my head. Gay or straight, there was no way I would have forgotten that guy. He was beyond handsome, like a model, the kind of person who doesn’t walk among us in real life. He would have fit in wearing boxer briefs on a billboard in Times Square.

“You’re Cate Sanders! Oh my God, from high school! I used to sit behind you in home room!”

I stood there baffled, wondering if the little pot I smoked in college had obliterated my memory.

“I’m Christian, Christian Selig.”
I remembered Christian Selig. My shock quickly turned into a sense of despair at the injustice. He had gone from gangly and pimple faced to tall, tanned, toned, and flawless-skin gorgeous. Here I was the same, except for the beginning of fine lines on my face, boobs that would no longer pass the pencil test and an extra thirty pounds.

“Wow!”
I said, “You look incredible. Sorry for the memory lapse, it has been a long time.”

Despite the fact that we had hardly known each other
, he hugged me like an old friend. “So, what are you doing here?” Christian asked.

I gestured at my cart and said, “Getting plants, and I need something that I can’t kill
…” but the truth came out like I was regurgitating. “To be completely honest, I wouldn’t be here at all, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do.” I shook my head at my failed attempt at honesty. “That’s not true either. I wanted to have drinks, but it’s too early in the day since I’m not an alcoholic, and there isn’t anyone who could meet me for drinks this early anyway. I got laid off a while back and all of my friends are nine to fivers.” I sighed. Although I was sure I sounded like a complete nut job, it felt good to let it all hang out.

He didn’t respond the way I would have expected, scooting away and saying it had been nice to see me. He smiled big, and said teasingly, “Well, first things first. Let’s get you a plant you can’t kill. I’ve got the perfect thing. It’s tall, but don’t worry, not a tree.”
He walked over to the next aisle and pointed at something that was just perfect, dark green tall straight pointy leaves with yellow vertical lines on them.

“It is perfect! What is it?”

“Snake grass, but also known as mother
-in-law’s tongue because you can’t stop it, it just grows.” He put it in my cart, and then walked me over to an area with pots. With the clichéd but much appreciated gay man’s style, he helped me pick out pots that were the perfect contrasting colors and designs for my Aloe Vera and African Violets. When he took off his apron, telling me that his shift was over, I tried to hide my disappointment. I knew it was pathetic. I didn’t think we were going to hang out at Home Depot all day.

“It was really good to see you.” I said.

“You too, Cate.”
Christian started to walk away, but then turned and asked, “Hey, do you like sushi?”

“I love sushi!”
I said, feeling a twinge of guilt, remembering that I still hadn’t called Rachel back. Before I got laid off, we went out for sushi every Friday for lunch.

“You know, it may be early for happy hour, but not for sushi and sake. I’m free. If you want we could go to Niko’s…”

I interrupted, “I’d love to!”

I was so excited. I love gay men, and I swear every woman needs at least one in their life. I’m not a fag hag, but I’d make a great one. Ever since my dear friend Robert moved to Miami two years ago there’s been a hole in my world. While he could never be replaced,
I’ve needed this, the attention of a man who has no interest in sleeping with me.

Niko’s wasn’t exactly in my budget, but how could I refuse Christian’s invitation? We sat at the corner of the sushi bar. My mouth watered as I eyed the perfect pieces of white tuna, salmon, and yellowtail on a big purple radish, cut into the shape of a flower. I was thrilled to hear that Christian likes his sake hot. I don’t care that high quality sake should be served chilled, I like cheap warm sake. We started eating seaweed salad when out of nowhere Christian said, “Did you know I had a crush on you in high school? I wanted to ask you to prom, but I never got up the nerve.”

“What?”
I pointed to the slippery strands of seaweed that had just gone from my chopsticks to the table. “Look what you did. You made me drop good seaweed. What are you talking about? You’re gay, and don’t tell me your bi because I don’t believe in that. People cannot go around monopolizing both genders.”

Christian laughed. “I’m not bi. Back then I knew I was gay, but hadn’t really accepted myself yet and had this whole theory on how my sexuality was on a continuum. I was attracted to you.”

“Really? So you were already attracted to men, but you were attracted to me? I must have missed the effect I was going for with the hot rollers.”

“Yeah, really.
Let me think of how to explain it,” he said before dipping a spicy tuna roll in soy sauce. “At that age it was different. I hadn’t fully given in to who I was going to be. I mean, I felt it, but I also had some interest in girls. Every morning I sat behind you, and you did something for me. Your hair smelled like cherries or something. I was definitely attracted to you. Maybe I thought about it more because at the time I thought you might be my chance…to be...normal.”

“Oh Christian
,” I leaned in and hugged him, trying not to tear up. “I think that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“So you can imagine my surprise today when there you were, in Homo Depot.”

“Homo Depot?”

“That’s what we call that location. It’s midtown
, where all the hot gay guys get their materials.”

“That’s why you work there?”

“No, but it doesn’t hurt. This is just temporary. I decided to go back to school full time. I’m getting my master’s degree in Landscape Architecture.”

Hoping he would expound upon that, so I wouldn’t have to talk about my life, I put a piece of the spicy tuna roll in my mouth. It didn’t work. Before I could even start chewing he said, “So I would have thought you’d be married with kids by now.”

Still chewing, I shook my head.

“Divorced?”

I shook my head again as I sipped my sake.

“It’s a long story
.” I said. “I’m just glad to be exactly where I am. Here, with you. And I’m glad that you’re not the heart crushing monster from the land of I Can’t Keep It In My Pants” I surprised myself with a laugh. “Wait, I guess it’s not a long story after all.”

“God, Cate, I’m sorry.”

I shrugged. “It’s been many months, but we were engaged, and he was the third in a string of bad boyfriends. They didn’t all cheat, but they were all…” My voice trailed off as I tried to think of how to explain it. “Do you ever watch the TV show Criminal Minds?”

“I love that show!”

“Well, they were all like
Shemar Moore.”

Christian gave me a side glance and refilled our sake cups. “Um, I’m starting to lose all sympathy for you.”

“No, they weren’t all look-a-likes. Please, in real life most of the guys who look like that are on your team, way too pretty to be straight. I mean they all had that bad boy quality, that thing where they’re all about the chase.”

As the sound of the birthday song, with a heavy Japanese accent permeated the restaurant, I began to sing and clap along with the wait staff. Looking around, I didn’t see a birthday party. They headed to our end of the bar.
“Happy Birthday!” Christian yelled. The waiter placed a big fruity drink in a cup shaped like Bhudda in front of us. I leaned in to Christian. “It’s not my birthday.” I whispered. He put his arm around me, and pointed to our waiter, in front of us with a Polaroid camera.

“Smile!”
Everyone cheered. After the birthday serenade, Christian said he couldn’t resist. He had always wanted to try their birthday beverage.

“Sorry
,” he said. “Back to your dating history. The bad boys are fun, but you should only date them, not marry them. So you have a type. That’s ok.”

“The last three were completely different, not even from the same continents. My fiancée was British, and before him, one was a southern guy, the other was Venezuelan. The only thing they had in common was me. I’m drawn to men who aren’t good for me.”

Christian held up the Polaroid that had just come into focus. “Look, it’s a great picture of you! We look like the perfect couple.” He put it in my purse. “Don’t worry, Cate. You’ll grow out of dating men who aren’t good for you.”

We finished our sushi and talked. Neither one of us had kept up with people from high school, but we traded stories about the ones we’d run into over the years. Before we left we exchanged numbers and agreed that we had to get together again.

I went home invigorated. It had been a while since I had made a new friend, much less a guy friend. When James and I first started dating, he said that my guy friends weren’t really friends; they wanted to sleep with me. After a year of telling him how ridiculous that was; I noticed that they had all slowly disappeared as things got serious with James.

The day had turned out so much better than it had started, I wanted to take my renewed positive energy and focus on moving forward. Since I would have to deal with Alexis again tomorrow, I needed to face the situation head on. It would be an opportunity for growth. Other than Barbara, who I was forced to deal with when she was my boss, I’ve always avoided women like Alexis. Realizing that dealing with difficult people is part of life, I was determined to adjust my
temperament and treat her with diplomacy. After all, I was a new person, the kind of person who has plants. While I would be willing to help out in the office, I wasn’t going to put up with any more of her shit and most importantly I wanted to see the dogs. Worst case scenario, I would at least get to see Buddy at Vivian’s.