Confessions of a Call Center Gal: a novel (44 page)

“And, I adore how when you laugh, no sound is emitted.”

At that, he laughs and of course, it is silent.

“And has anyone ever told you that you look like Zac Levi and Zac Efron?”

He draws a blank. “Who’s Zac Efron? And who’s Zac Levi?”

I stare at him as if he’d just returned from Jupiter and Mars.

“Wait!” I exclaim. “Back to you and me. You said there were two reasons. What’s reason number two?”

“Well, you made it clear from the get-go that dating someone at the work place was a bad idea. And the more I thought about it, you were right.”

I blink. “But we’re still working at the same place.”

He sets down his cup. “Not anymore.”

“What?” I gawp. “You quit?!?”

“I gave my two weeks’ notice before we left. I’ve got a new job, Maddy. An engineering gig with Greenworth.”

I can hear the exuberance and the passion in his voice as he goes on to tell me all about his new job. He continues, “And they’ll even pay for my tuition if I want to go to grad school, which I surely plan on doing.”

I stare at him, slightly alarmed. “You’re leaving us?”

He cups my chin lightly. “Hey, we’ll still be together, and from what it sounds like, you may be getting your own gig as well.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you. But it just seems like everything’s moving so quickly. And I just feel sorta…” I struggle for the word, “scared?” I feel myself tense, slightly apprehensive about the future. “What if I get that job with Ajon and I turn out to be crap at it? I mean, compared to other seasoned tech writers, I’m probably not very good...maybe I should just stay where I am.”
 

“Maddy, please don’t get sucked into that black hole. Archie has worked in that call center for more than thirty years, back when Lightning Speed was just a phone company. Can you even imagine that? It may be something Arch enjoys, but I know
you,
Madison…you’re like a wildflower, a chrysalis trapped in the call center cocoon.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “What’s with all the flower and critter metaphors?”

“I’ve been reading Wordsworth,” he says with a crisp nod and I shoot him a look that says, ‘Get real.’

“I have,” he insists. “But not by choice; I had to read it for a class,” he finally admits. After a beat, he adds, “I even wrote a little poem about you.”

“You have? Read it to me!” I order.

He smiles at me sheepishly and squeezes my hand. “Okay, but promise me you won’t laugh.”

I lie, “I promise.”

He releases my hand and fumbles in his pocket. I watch him dredge out a crumpled piece of paper. “It’s a work in progress.”

“Go on...” I smile encouragingly.

After smoothing out the creases, he clears his throat. “It goes something like this…

When came the break of dawn,

Came to birth a delicate fawn,

She climbed up the hill so high,

But then heaved a sad, sad sigh,

For on the lake she saw swans,

And said to herself, ‘I am only a fawn,

Oh how I wish to be a swan.’

But she had grace and beauty so serene,

She had strength, agility and could run with the wind,

And the fawn soon grew into a majestic reindeer,

Sharp, witty and still so demure,

But she did not know, she would not believe,

That she could do anything her heart conceived.

Until one misty morning, she met a swashbuckling stag,

And together they journeyed to Lake Montague,

Said her stag, ‘Reindeer, reindeer, look in the lake and see…

You’re more beautiful and brilliant than a swan could ever be.’

He stops and looks up. “Um, that’s all I have for now.”

For a moment, I remain speechless. No one has ever written a poem for me before.

I tilt my head to the side. “You wrote that for me?”

He nods, slightly bashful.

“I love it!” I gush with gusto. “I’m a reindeer? Why?”

He smiles an endearing smile. “Reindeers are the only female deer with antlers,” he states matter-of-factly, spoken like a man who watches the Discovery Channel.

“You picture me with horns?” I make an exaggerated face.

“No! Not horns!” He laughs. “
Antlers
. Reindeers are gorgeous creatures,” he says, sounding bizarrely like the late Steve Irwin. “And I find their antlers so majestic, and so regal.”

I clear my throat. “In the poem, I…err…um, I assume that you’re my swashbuckling stag?”

“Art imitating life,” he admits with a lopsided grin.

Leaning forward, I peck him on the cheek. “Thanks. For the poem
and
for being my stag.”

Abruptly, he veers it back to work. “Maddy, if Ajon offers you the tech writing gig,
take it
. I know you’ll be good at it.”

I bite my inner lip and remain silent.

He laces his fingers with mine. “When the timing is right, and when you feel comfortable with the idea, how do you feel about us moving in together?”

I’m slightly taken aback. Mika is laying all his cards on the table. And he sounds so serious about committing.
To me!

“You mean you’d want to move out of the dorms?” I tease.

“Well, you can’t live in the dorms when you are no longer a student,” he deadpans.

“Mika!” I shriek ecstatically. “When are you graduating?”

He smiles broadly. “In a month.”

My head is spinning with all this news.

“You’re graduating, you’re getting a new job
and
you want to move in with me?”

It’s a lot to take in.

Seeing my open-mouthed expression, he treads lightly. “Let’s just take it one day at a time, okay? You and me...”

I nod and toy with the crumbs on my plate.

“I’m getting another latte. Do you want anything else?” he asks and I shake my head. He consults the chalkboard menu on the wall. “Hmm. I can’t decide what to get.”

“Here, try my latte.” I hold up my cup. “It’s pumpkin spice.”

My cup bears a trace of my Burt’s Bees Watermelon lipstick.

Holding my gaze, he tilts the cup to his lips and sips from the exact same spot of my lipstick smear.

I swallow hard. That felt sexier than a kiss.

Mika returns my Styrofoam cup and I bury my nose in it, not trusting myself to speak.

He looks out the window, his latte long forgotten. “It still looks brutal out there.”

“Um hmm,” I agree airily.

Still gazing outside, he says, “I don’t think it’s safe for us to be driving home in this weather.”

“Umm hmm,” I hum noncommittally. “I don’t suppose so.”

“So…should we get a room?”

“A room?” I part my lips and play dumb.

“They have hotels here, don’t they?”

“I believe they do...” I trail off.

His lips twist into a quirk smile. “Shall we go?”

“G-go where?” I ask like a blithering idiot.

He pins me with his gaze.

My heart is thumping away like hail on a windshield.

“Err...what about your latte? I thought you wanted to order another one?” I stall. “And don’t you still want to go to the Billy Goat Tavern? Cheezborger, cheezborger, cheezborger! No fries—cheeps! No Pepsi—Coke!” I run my mouth like a mad woman.

What is wrong with me??

Thankfully Mika doesn’t seem to notice my lapse in the sanity department. “Forget about the latte,” he says in a low voice. “And forget about the Billy Goat Tavern.”
 

And the rest…well let’s just say that a lady doesn’t kiss and tell. And since I’m not a lady, I’ll say that he is
indeed
a stag, in every sense of the word.

Cough.
Size is most certainly
not
an overrated commodity.

The next day, we take the red eye flight to Pocatello; or Poky, as the old-timers call it.

And to an unsettling degree, Poky is starting to feel a lot more like home.

Twenty Seven

C
lank,
clank, clank, clunk, clunk, clink, clank, clink, clunk.

“What the hell is that sound?” I ask in alarm. “Mika, take the wheel,” I instruct and he swiftly complies.

Rolling down the window, I crane my neck back.

Oddly enough, I don’t see anything unusual. But I can still hear that loud clunking noise.

“Maddy, just drive! Keep your eyes on the road,” orders Mika in a stern voice.

Grudgingly, I peel my eyes away and try to focus on driving; but each time I step on the gas, my car just sputters, and I can still hear that damned clanking!

Mika grips the dashboard. “Pull over when you can.”

Clank, clank, clank, clunk, clunk, CKLUNKTH.

Then silence.

Warily, I peer at the rearview mirror. To my absolute horror, my muffler is right in the middle of the road. Cars and trucks are swerving in all directions to avoid it.

“My muffler!” I cry and swing my car to the curb.

Mika hops out. When the coast is clear, he makes a break for it. Shaking with laughter, he jogs back with my muffler. “Sorry babes, but this thing has
way
surpassed its glory days.”

That’s a nice way of putting. “Can’t I drive my car without a muffler?”

“You mean for good?” he asks in a perplexed voice and I nod.

“Um, no. It’s not legal.” He tosses the muffler onto the back seat. “Don’t worry, I’ll order you a new one.”

“I can do it myself,” I say a little too quickly. After all, I am used to taking care of myself; been doing it for years.

Mika ruffles my hair. “I know you can, but let me take care of it, okay?”

“Okay.” I hit the gas and drive home in my muffler-less Subaru, praying I don’t get ticketed.

Going from being
friends
with Mika to
dating
Mika has been an easy transition. We still do all of the same things, the only difference is, we spend more time together and we’re more affectionate with each other. Every day, Mika gives me back rubs, shoulder rubs and leg rubs, and I love receiving them. After sitting in front of a computer for eight hours, my shoulders and neck are stiff, tense and knotted up.

“My back hurts,” I’ll simper and shoot Mika an injured princess look. That’s all it takes! I’ll be treated to a full on massage with long kneads and gentle strokes.

Now this may sound a little pre-emptive, but we have since moved in together, and I sometimes marvel at how much has changed in such a short amount of time.

Kars wasn’t too bummed about me moving out since she has found a new best friend in Pamela Pornero, one of the Call Center Termites who snagged the team lead position the same time she did.

Since becoming a lead, Kars now hangs out with the ‘elite’ squad. She claims it’s all a ruse, but she’s slowly warming up to the Bimbo Termites she once reviled. The very day I moved out, Pamela Pornero moved right in.

But Kars and I remain close friends. We just move around in different circles. And I never tire of teasing her about her porn star flat mate.

For shits and giggles, Kars and I once came up with porn star names for ourselves. She was Karsynn Bangs and I was Maddy Cherry Poppins.

Conveniently, I still live in the same apartment complex as the Bangs-Pornero household. Just on a different floor—the first floor. The elevator here is always out of commission and after a brutal day at work, the last thing I want to do is mount twelve flights of stairs.

I do miss Kars, but I love my new flat mate.

Mika and I are happy homebodies. Tonight, like most nights, we find ourselves unwinding in our new apartment.

“How was work?” I ask and scoot over to make room for him on the sofa.

He plops down next to me, rests his head on my lap and tells me he’s too tired to talk.

“C’mon, tell me.” I tickle him playfully as he tries to snuggle up to me.

“Well, working at Greenworth is
way
better than working at Lightning Speed, but I’m on my feet all day long, and it can be taxing at times.”