Confessions of a Call Center Gal: a novel (50 page)

I snorted. She ignored me and ploughed on regardless.

‘The more things you do, the more confidence you gain, and you become a more focused and better person. You need to be more proactive with your life, and I think this is just what you need.’

I heaved a dramatic sigh.

‘It’s not just about meeting a man. It’s about changing your perspective. Come on, what is there to lose? Worst case scenario, you might discover things that you never knew before, or find something new that you like doing. Best case scenario…’ She shrugged. ‘You might meet “the one”.’
 

I pretended to ignore her and fiddled with my hair.

‘You never know if you don’t try, and you need to take every single opportunity you can to meet new people, instead of making the usual pathetic excuses you’ve been using for the last six months.’ Sitting back on the sofa, she crossed her arms over her chest. The lecture was over.

‘I don’t know if I’ve got the time for a Hong Kong
Fuey
experience. I mean what with…work…and…’ I tailed off, staring out of my flat window at the dreary, sludgy winter day outside. How much longer could I make excuses to keep my life on hold, waiting for Justin to come back?

‘
Hellooooooooo
! Earth to Helen.’
Ayshe
poked me hard in the ribs. ‘The most important thing is to keep busy and keep your mind open to new things. Look, I’ll help you. We can even do some things together, but you need to get out of this flat and into the big wide world again and stop hibernating.’

I narrowed my eyes, deep in thought. ‘You’re marrying
Atila
in a few weeks. You’ll be too busy to baby-sit me. And anyway, I’m not hibernating.’

But if I was honest, truly honest, I knew she was right. I’d spent so much time drowning in self-pity and pining for Justin that I’d lost myself. I needed to find out what I wanted for a change. A fourteen day challenge to myself might not be such a bad thing. Would it change my life? I was pretty doubtful. Would it get my yin and yang back? I felt a flicker of excitement at the thought of unknown possibilities.

‘Actually…I haven’t got any more wedding photos to do until yours,’ I started with caution. No one wanted to get married in November anyway, so my diary wasn’t exactly heaving. ‘Maybe I could give it a try.’

‘That’s my girl. And you never know, come my wedding, you may have a new guy to bring, eh?’

I stood up, catching my reflection in the mirror. Anxious eyes like soggy limpets stared back at me. I must admit, I had let myself go a bit lately. My chestnut curly hair sprang out in all directions. I could do with a trim – maybe even a few highlights, and –
aargh
! – look at my eyebrows! Denis Healey eat your heart out. And as for my hairy legs and bikini-line – well, I was beginning to resemble a silverback gorilla. The only good thing to come out of it, I supposed, was that I had shifted a few pounds and was now a size twelve, although I wouldn’t recommend The Getting-Dumped Diet to anyone.

Ayshe’s
cackling brought me back down to earth. ‘You look fine. Nothing a
hair cut
and a pair of tweezers won’t fix.’

‘So, if I do this challenge, what will be on the agenda for tomorrow? I might as well start as soon as possible before I change my mind.’ I felt my mood lift slightly.

Relief spread across her face. ‘I’ll think about it and text you later. In the meantime, have a look through the local paper and the internet and get some ideas for new things to try. You won’t regret it. I have a good feeling about this.’ She looked at her watch. ‘
Aagh
! Look at the time. Me and
Atila
are going to Mum and Dad’s for dinner, which basically means Dad will be on the whisky again, cooking enough shish kebab to feed a small continent, and Mum will want to read everyone’s Turkish coffee cup, predicting the same things she always sees: babies, rings, and marriage!’ She leapt up from the sofa, grabbing her bag and coat.

‘I love
Yasmin
and
Deniz’s
Turkish Cypriot cooking.’

‘So do I. It’s just that fifty-two Sundays a year of shish kebab gets a bit too much. You can come, as well, if you want. You know they think of you as their surrogate daughter.’ Her oval, dark eyes implored me.

‘No, I’m fine. I’ll just have a think about my new life-changing challenge. I’ll do some work on the computer and have an early night.’ I pulled the door open for her.

‘OK then, text you later.’ She kissed me on both cheeks, Turkish style. Her long, sleek black hair fanned out over her shoulders as she dashed up the corridor.

‘Bye – and by the way, it’s
feng
shui
, not Hong Kong
Fuey
!’ But she’d already disappeared up the stairs to her flat on the floor above.

Just as I was shouting this enlightening piece of information, Charlie, who lived in the flat next to mine, opened his door to collect the paper from outside. I stared at the incredible sight of him wearing nothing but a pair of pink, spandex hot-pants.

‘
Helloooo
,
dahling
. What’s
feng
shui
?’ He paused, deep in thought, ignoring my startled expression. ‘Is it a restaurant?’ Without waiting for an answer he peered at the big coffee stain down the front of my saggy jogging bottoms. ‘Is that a new look?’

‘No,’ I said, trying not to look at what must have been a sock shoved down the front of his hot-pants. What a cheek, I thought, as I scrutinized his own rather unique attire. ‘Are you on something?’

‘I’m just high on life.’

I retreated back inside as I heard him calling out, ‘We must do
drinkies
soon!’

Sitting at my computer desk, I grabbed the paper from the floor where I’d deposited it the night before and read it with renewed interest. If I didn’t find something to do for my challenge, I was sure
Ayshe
would have a brain wave. An hour later, I’d worked my way through the adverts, the classifieds, and another coffee, but nothing inspirational had pinged out at me.

I switched on the computer and waited for it to bleep and spring into life. I had some photos to enhance and mess around with so I could finish a proof book for the
Ponsonby-Smythe’s
– a rather eccentric couple whose pictures I’d taken last weekend.

I called up their photos, staring at the happiness which radiated from their faces and a twinge of jealousy tugged at my insides. One of the hardest things since splitting up with Justin had been smiling to all the ecstatically happy brides and grooms who were embarking on a whole new exciting life together, while I was carrying a dull ache around inside.

Fiddling around with the
programme
, I made all her teeth black. Then I decided to squash the picture down and turn her from a nice size ten into a short, dumpy Sumo wrestler, but this only made me feel slightly better.

After an hour of messing around, I was startled by the sound of my phone meowing,
signalling
a text message. I leapt up and retrieved it from my bag, which was sitting on the wooden floor, spilling out its contents.

The message read: ‘Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to volunteer to walk dogs in
Hartham
Park
. Report to the Canine Animal Rescue Centre at 09.00 hours. Do not pass “Go”. This message will self-destruct in ten seconds.’

And that was how this whole crazy thing began.

I relaxed with relief because that didn’t sound too bad. I’d even been toying with the idea of getting a pet to keep me company. Not that I’d had much to do with dogs since I’d made my mum’s dog a birthday cake when I was about four-years-old, and it had exploded in the oven – the cake that is, not the dog. The funny thing was that Rover did die rather suddenly afterwards from some kind of strange gastric complication. But anyway, it didn’t seem too crazy for my first challenge, and nothing as outrageous could happen again.

****

As I got undressed for bed that night, I took off my attractive jogging bottoms and threw them into the bin. In a moment of madness, I also decided I could do with a whole drawer-full of new knickers and grabbed a handful of oversized ones, which didn’t fit my new svelte figure – well, OK then, my almost svelte figure – and threw those into the bin also. Now I had a plan to force myself into action, I decided I needed to be firm with myself and do something to freshen up my appearance. Gazing at my legs, I promised I’d have a grand splurge of de-fuzzing tomorrow.

My eyes wandered down to my neglected toenails. Rummaging around in my bedside drawer, I took out a bottle of quick drying, chip resistant varnish in Pillar Box Red, which still looked useable and commenced toenail-painting duties. After waiting the designated drying time, I crept under the sheets and drifted off to la-la land.

What would tomorrow bring?