Maine Squeeze (42 page)

She smiled faintly. “I wish you wouldn't phrase it like that. But okay. So what other issues do you have with me?”

“I don't have any issues. Period,” I said.

“Are you sure?” she asked, like she
wanted
me to hate her for something. I don't. I wish she spent more money on herself and that she would lighten up sometimes, and that she'd go out on a date once more in her life, but I couldn't help her with that.

“I'm sure, Mom,” I said. “Just relax. You're doing great.” I gave her a little hug and then ran upstairs to my room. Escape!

So now she and Alison have been on the phone for like an
hour
, and I can't call anyone.

It's unlikely I'll have a breakthrough. A complete breakout, maybe. I'm sitting here staring at a stack of college catalogs and applications. They should come with complimentary tubes of zit cream.

“My most meaningful life experience was … (a) filling out this application, (b) taking the SATs, (c) getting my first computer, (d) deciding I'd rather manage a Truth or Dairy for eternity than fill this out.”

Gerry keeps talking about expanding. And Beth and I have to not laugh, because the fact is that since he opened the shop a couple of years ago, he has to have gained about 30 pounds. He has this belly, the kind guys get when they drink a lot of beer. But with him, it's from coconut and kiwi and strawberry. The other day he said he could really see himself growing. We started to laugh, but then he added, “as a businessman and a pillar of the community.”

“Do you want to be a chain?” Beth asked him. “Do you want to be all over the country?”

“Well … define
chain
,” Gerry said.

“More than one,” Beth said. “Linked together? With standardized napkins and recipes.”

“I'd like to be a Colorado chain. Yes. I see that,” Gerry said, as if he'd just called the psychic hot line. “But I want to grow in a healthy way. You two will help me, won't you?”

Afterward Beth and I went into the storeroom and just cracked up. “Sure we will,” Beth said. “We'll put
diet coconut
in your smoothie.”

“Don't forget the sugar-free strawberries,” I said.

“He thinks fat-free is like … all there is to it,” Beth said. “He's so wrong.”

Most people are.

This is too embarrassing to write down. But so is almost everything lately, so here goes:

Mom asked me to pick up food for Oscar on the way home. So you know there's this pet shop at the other end of the strip mall from T or D—it's called Pet Me, which has all these weird connotations, so I used to think it was a sex-toy shop. I went in there after work and found the chow Oscar eats. I picked up this humongous bag—Mom only buys it forty pounds at a time. I was dragging it up to the cash register, clutching it like I would a small toddler, when I heard this familiar voice.

“Need some help carrying that? Hey, how's your dog?”

It was Grant. He had a Pet Me Staff shirt on, plus one of those weight lifter's belts. An interesting look. I'd forgotten I ran into him that day at Walgreens and told him about Oscar.

Well, okay, so I guess he wasn't
following
me. He works here. That's why I kept seeing him in the parking lot after work. I am such an idiot.

And that's why he has such big shoulders, it's not from sports or dietary supplements. It's from hauling forty-pound bags of pet food and cat litter.

“You know, we offer free delivery,” Grant said. Now he tells me. “But I can help you with that now, if you want.”

I was tempted, but sweat was running down the front of my shirt, about to mix in with the kibbles and make my own gravy.

I was so embarrassed I paid and ran out to the car. I realized my Grant-as-stalker theory was a bit off the mark. It isn't all about me and Dave. It's all about me being self-centered and oblivious and stupid.

Had to sprint into T or D today from parking lot. I'm so embarrassed about what I said to Grant. I skipped my class with him, my major life issue today being to avoid Grant. So humiliating. Thinking someone is stalking you when they work in the same strip mall. Not only that, but I've droned on and on to him about Dave, I'm sure he thinks I'm completely unbalanced, crazy, deluded. No wonder Dave would break up with me. All I could think about last night when I was trying to fall asleep was how Grant probably called Dave and told him what happened. Instead of giving him this cool image of me going on with my life, no problem, Dave has a new image: me thinking I am the bomb, that everyone wants to go out with me …

Okay, enough about that. Gerry wants to send me to some management class being held in a few weeks. He says he's following up on his idea of branching out, the store being a very successful concept, smoothies being trendy and all, while ice cream never goes out of style.

“Don't tell Beth,” he whispered to me by the supplements. “She doesn't have management-quality potential.”

She'll be crushed. I'm sure.

I'm calling her tonight to tell her, so she can deal with the pain privately.

I asked Gerry if it could wait until next summer—when I'll quit. He launched into some speech about the ideal smoothie shop, how the serving of cold fruit drinks side by side with rocky road is the yin/yang feng/shui harmony of food service. Completely off his rocky road.

“I'll pay for the class, and I'll pay you overtime for the hours you attend the class,” he finally said.

Yes!

Something weird is going on with the Tom. I think he has ADD or something, well, especially when it comes to girls. Like he can't
focus
on which one he likes. Today he had three different gifts on his desk and couldn't remember which one he was supposed to give to whom. He kept pushing them around on his desk like he was doing that trick with 3 shells and a nut underneath. I don't know where he gets the money for all this; I guess he comes from money, because I know he doesn't work. I was waiting for my gift. Shouldn't he be giving me presents right about now?

We went over to Goat Mountain last week and issued our book-reading challenge in person (the principal already told them about it). They have two more weeks (plus) to get it done. The kids had a lot of funny questions, like: “What roof are you going to sleep on?” “Can we watch?” “Can we sleep on the roof?” and “Can't we throw cream pies at you guys instead?”

Then someone pointed out we'd be sleeping up there in November and how that's usually one of the coldest months and what if it snowed, wouldn't
that
be funny? I think they started reading as soon as we left the auditorium.

Dave called tonight. He said he just wanted to know how I was doing.

Did he mean that?

I can't believe it's been over two weeks since the last time I saw him. I'm starting not to miss him everywhere. It's nice. He asked if Tom had made a move on me yet. I told him not to insult me. Of course he hasn't, and of course he won't. He's too busy planning whose sleeping bag to sneak into after we lose the Goat Mountain challenge.

Goat Mountain Challenge. Isn't that a Disney movie?

Just woke up. Dreamt that I was sleeping on roof of Dave's house. Kept sliding off.

That was a dream within a dream. Woke up from that one into another one. Turned out I was trying to sleep on Flatirons, rocks with sharp angles, mountains above Boulder. I was up there to spy on Dave, had binoculars and was trying to find his dorm. Strap on binocs nearly strangled me.

Then I realized I was naked.

Oh yeah. I am really over him.

Had a last-minute emergency meeting today to talk about Halloween party at school. A group of students submitted a petition asking us to ban costumes. We can't
cancel
Halloween. I'm sorry. It has these … themes. Scary ones.

In the meantime it is only 3 days away, and I have no idea what I can go as. Last year Dave and I went to the party together as Sonny and Cher—and there's no way I can top that. I could be Cher, I guess. But that would be really pathetic, even if in real life she was the one who dumped him.

Maybe I can be a witch. Or wait—a dragon. Since my secret is out. I could go as Princess Von Dragen. Sounds good, but who is it?

The theme of the party at school is Trick or Treat. I have to consider reassigning the head of the social committee. Her name is Laura, and she has no ideas. Period.

Called Alison to see if she has any costume ideas. She was out. She's
always
out lately. So frustrating. She must be practicing for a big concert.

I called Beth. I could have sworn I heard a guy talking in the background, but she kept saying it was the TV and she had to go because she was in the middle of watching a show for a paper.

Jane picked out her costume last spring and wouldn't understand leaving it to the last minute.

I was so desperate I even went to Bryan's room to ask him for help. He wasn't home.

Oscar ran away. He got spooked by all the kids coming to the door and ringing the bell and screaming “Trick or Treat!” at Mom, who was wearing a belly dancer costume. A bit skimpy in my opinion, but she and her friends all went to this Act Your Shoe Size, Not Your Age party this afternoon, so Mom's feeling 8 1/2.

Since I got home from the party at school, we've been looking for Oscar all night—me, Mom, and Bryan. Probably the most time we've spent together since the summer. Mom drove; I ran alongside the car; Bryan kept yelling Oscar's name out the window until he was hoarse.

First we cursed the neighborhood—I mean coursed—on foot, then we drove to all his favorite places: the park, various Dumpsters, the grocery store, even Pet Me. No Oscar.

All the funny things that happened at the party seem kind of insignificant now. But still funny. I found this old costume of Alison's in the attic. She went as a cat a few years ago. Slight problem, I'm a size bigger than Alison, but the leopard material was stretchy and besides, it perfectly matched my new leopard print fuzzy slippers. I looked hot, maybe a little too hot though, sort of like a stripper.

Anyway, Jane was a figure skater, with a dress that had a billion sequins so she sparkled even more than usual and she had awesome four-inch-heel shoes that looked like skates. Beth was dressed as Smokey the Bear, which was really weird because Bryan was a firefighter so we kept asking if they had talked about using a fire
theme
. They kept swearing they hadn't. Bryan kept picking up Beth and pretending to carry her out of a burning building. It was hilarious.

I danced once with the Tom, but people kept grabbing my tail when I spun around and he got annoyed because I was getting more attention than him. Naturally he wasn't in costume. He's too cool for that. Right.

Beth, Jane, and I ran into Grant at the punch vat. He was dressed as a cowboy, he even had those leather chaps.

“You should be on a calendar,” Jane told him as she looked him up and down.

“Courtney—I didn't recognize you,” Grant said. “You look sort of … curvy.”

Jane and Beth started laughing. Then Grant was smiling, too, like he was really enjoying embarrassing me for my Feline Stripper outfit.

It's really cold tonight. Seems like it always is on Halloween. Or maybe it's because I was wearing too-thin, stretchy material.

I hope Oscar finds a warm place. I hope he doesn't get caught by that leash guy, either. Crazy guy. Would probably jail Oscar for killing goats, like Oscar's ever killed anything. His food even scares him.

Oscar's never been gone this long before. I was a total mess at school today. I shut my hand in the door when I was leaving Mr. Arnold's classroom, then I almost started crying in the hallway. I think I might have even whimpered. So embarrassing.

Grant was right behind me and grabbed my arm. “What's wrong?”

“It's Oscar. He ran away.” I pulled this old crinkly photo of Oscar out of my backpack and nearly started bawling. I took the picture when we brought Oscar home from the hospital after he got hit by the car.

“Oh? Oh no.” Grant looked really worried. “Do you have any idea where he went? I mean, can I help you look for him?”

“Why, do you know all the dog hangouts?” I snapped.

He looked sort of hurt. I realized I must have sounded a little harsh and insensitive. Which is sort of typical for me these days.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean
you
would know. Because you're a dog or something. Because you're not, at all, believe me, I wasn't implying—I just thought, well, you work at that pet shop—”

“It's okay, Courtney.” He put his hand on my arm again. “I know you're upset. Do you want to look for Oscar after school together?”