The Other C-Word (7 page)

“I can have facilities take it away,” I offered.

“No, that’s okay. We’ll keep it. We could probably use the extra oxygen, right?” Was he implying we needed it because it was so intense when we were together? “It’s good for the mind.”

His statement punched a hole in my theory. “I’m sure it is.” I hoped I didn’t sound as disappointed as I felt. I was completely conflicted—I enjoyed his flirting, and I hated it too. I had no idea why. The second box contained personal items and mementos. He placed a silver clock and a business card holder prominently on his desk, then took out two photo frames. I smiled when he put out the smaller wooden frame. I could tell it was a picture of his parents. It instantly filled me with compassion for him. I didn’t know how many guys his age would display a photo of their parents at work. He’d said they’d died ten years ago, and I imagined him to be close to my age, so he’d probably been in high school when they’d passed away. I wanted to ask him, but it seemed too probing a question. Plus, whenever you asked personal questions, you typically had to answer similar questions in return, and I wanted to avoid those.

I studied the couple in the photograph. Rick had features from both of them. The woman was kissing the man on the cheek, and they looked content and happy. I imagined they were very affectionate parents. The next photograph he put out had the complete opposite effect. It was larger, silver framed, highly decorative and contrasted greatly with the simple wooden frame next to it. This photo was of a beautiful, brunette woman, smiling brightly. It appeared to be a professional picture—like my senior pictures—but this woman was definitely not in high school. As gorgeous as she was, I instantly disliked her. Was it his sister? I didn’t think so. There was only one explanation. He had a girlfriend. All of the sentiments I had been feeling towards him dissipated, and I ungraciously chomped on the Zesty bar.

Rick started talking about how he wanted me to set up the empty bookshelves in the office, going over which catalogues and portfolios he needed. I was paying attention, but my gaze kept drifting to the photos on his desk. He must have noticed, because he paused mid-sentence and stared at me sheepishly. “The small one is of my parents, and the larger one is the girl I’m dating.”

“I didn’t ask,” I retorted.

“I know, but you seem interested, so I’m telling you.”

“I’m not interested,” I muttered, then I cleared my throat and repeated, so there was no confusion, “I’m not interested at all.”

He nodded in understanding, grasping the full meaning of my simple statement.

“I can arrange the shelves tomorrow if you don’t need anything else.” It was five and I had to leave to meet Stevie at the bridal salon.

“Tomorrow is fine.”

I headed out of the door swiftly, but he called my name causing me to stop in my tracks. “Marley, I am really glad we’ll be working together, and I am sorry for offending you.”

I turned and pasted a fake smile on my face. “Yes, me too. I’m sure it will be a great learning experience for me.”

* * * *

The usual cast of characters were gathered around our large dining table. There were my sisters, Stevie and Billie, and next to Stevie was her fiancé Adam. Next to me was my BFF, Dillon. The matriarch, my mother Emmie, sat at the head of the table. We ate vegan spaghetti and meatballs and talked about the upcoming wedding, while Carly Simon played softly in the background.

The meal was very good actually, and most of us had seconds. My mom brought out the vegan pudding—or mousse or whatever it was—after the dinner plates had been cleared. I stared at my bowl while everyone else stared at me. I was usually the initial taste tester for my mother’s desserts. I felt like Mikey from those cereal commercials. I nibbled on a small spoonful and nodded appreciatively. “Pretty good, Mom.” I smiled encouragingly, which signalled for everyone else to dig in.

We all loved dessert. I guess that made sense in a house full of women. Since my mother became a vegan, desserts were tricky. She was a great cook so we didn’t mind the vegan thing, plus we all loved her to pieces, but it’s damn difficult to make something sweet without white flour, sugar, milk, eggs or butter. The flour and sugar had nothing to do with being vegan, but my mom thought they were the Devil so we abstained at home.

“It’s time for dish and dish,” Mom announced gleefully. A collective groan emerged from the table, but in reality, we all loved our nightly tradition of dish and dish. My mother had come up with the game when we were little—she’d got tired of us never contributing valuable information about our day, so now when we had dessert we all shared. It didn’t necessarily have to be about our day, but anything we wanted to talk about. It was not mandatory to share, but it usually allowed you to open up when others did, like group therapy.

“Dish,” Billie started. “I got published in a poetry magazine.” We all clapped and plied her with accolades. Billie was only eighteen, but I sincerely thought she was smarter than all of us put together. She was quiet, but when she spoke or wrote something, her depth and humour always amazed me.

After all the questions and merriment of Billie’s announcement had died down, Stevie quipped, “Dish…I cleaned out my closet to make room.”

Adam immediately grimaced, running his hands through his wavy dark hair. Stevie had cleaned out her closet to make room for Adam’s stuff. He was going to move in with us after they got married. I had no idea why Stevie was making him—I knew Adam wasn’t very excited about moving in with his wife’s family even though he loved us. It wasn’t a monetary decision either, since I knew they both had decent incomes that would allow them to get their own place.

“Great, so what do I get? A few drawers?” Adam asked, not hiding his disapproval.

“A few? You’re lucky if you get a whole one to yourself,” Stevie joked. Adam pretended to look hurt, but she kissed him on the nose. He took off his glasses, his signature Clark
Kent
turned into Superman gesture that made Stevie weak in the knees, and pulled her in for a deeper kiss on the mouth. We all let out a collective grunt of disgust. They’d always been affectionate, but since he’d asked her to marry him, they had revved up their public displays. We were a modern, open family, but it still made us all a little uncomfortable.

“Get a room,” I sneered.

“Jealous much?” Stevie retorted, kissing Adam again.

“We’re trying to eat,” I replied, but couldn’t conceal my smile. I was happy for my sister.

“Oh, Marley, I almost forgot. I have a ton of dress clothes I’m going to give to you, but you have to promise to wear them, or I’m going to donate them.”

I was usually not a dressy girl, but Stevie’s offer was appealing. I knew even Stevie’s cast-offs would be stylish, plus I’d received many compliments today—not counting Rick’s. “Okay, deal.”

“I mean it though. I want to see you wearing them, not your usual sloppy shirts and khakis, or I’m going to take them back.”

“I said okay already,” I snapped, crossing my arms for emphasis. Van Morrison curled around my ankle. I reached down to pet him, and he returned my affection by biting my wrist. I had forgotten we were enemies. I clutched my bitten wrist in my other hand while Stevie and Adam laughed at me.

“Serves you right,” Stevie declared. It was as if that cat knew I was annoyed with my sister, and he was extracting some kind of revenge.

“Now girls, no fighting during dish and dish,” my mom said, scooping additional pudding in our bowls.

“Dish,” Dillon interjected, staring at me mischievously. “Marley has to tell you about her day.”

Damn Dillon! He knew that wasn’t how dish and dish was played. It was too late though, as five pairs of eyes were gawking at me, greedy for information. “Spill it, Marley,” my mom demanded.

I sighed in exasperation, but I knew any arguments on my part would only prolong the inquisition process. I decided to keep the airport debacle to myself, and I knew Dillon wouldn’t betray me in that. “I thought I was going to get fired today, but then I found out I’m going to be working for the consultant I picked up at the airport.”

“The cheapskate?” my mother asked.

Dillon shook his head. “He’s not cheap, Emmie. The man was wearing a suit that must have cost at least eight hundred dollars and an Armani necktie.” Leave it to Dillon to know the price tag of a man’s suit or the designer of his tie.

“Sounds like he has good taste,” Stevie commented.

“You should see the car he rented,” I interjected. As long as we were talking about his wardrobe and toys, I could avoid any commentary on what he was doing to me on a personal level.

“You should see his rocking hard abs and snake like eyes,” Dillon added, much to my chagrin. Well, so much for sticking to the mundane.

“Oh, he’s cute?” Billie chirped, suddenly interested in my dish.

I shrugged. “He’s okay.”

Dillon choked on his water. “Okay? The man is hot, hot, hot. Marley’s blind.”

“I just happen to see his other traits more visibly. He’s pompous and inappropriate for someone who’s supposedly some kind of business guru.”

Adam smiled wryly. “Girls always mix up confidence and cockiness. If he’s got a reputation, I’m sure it’s deserved.”

“Come on, Marley, what aren’t you telling us? What don’t you like?” Stevie prodded.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “He flirted with me.”

Stevie sighed sarcastically and said with great exaggeration, “Oh no, not that! A hot guy flirted with Marley. Call the police.”

“It’s not professional. He could get in a lot of trouble.”

“I guess you should call HR, Marley,” my mom suggested with a soft smile. I knew what she was thinking because she knew me, and I was thinking it too. I liked the flirting.

“For some reason, when the guy’s ugly, it’s harassment, but when he’s cute, it’s flirting. That’s always the way it is with you girls,” Adam lectured as if he was Dr Phil come to coach us on the ways of women.

“It’s bad either way, Adam,” I replied a little more sharply than I intended.

Adam just grinned. “Oh yeah? Did you file a harassment claim? Did you refuse to be his assistant?”

Damn Adam…he knew me too well, as did everyone at this table. I decided to try a different tack to get them on my side. “No, but you have to admit it’s very shady to flirt with a girl when you have a girlfriend, don’t you think?” I knew this statement would get Stevie riled up. People in committed relationships seldom approved of such sordid behaviour.

She surprised me by shaking her head. “Marley, he’s got a girlfriend, so what? He didn’t ask you to sleep with him right? He’s not married, and it can’t be that serious if he’s going to live here for the next few months.”

“He has a huge picture of her on his desk. It was like…mocking me or something.”

“What did the frame look like?” Stevie asked. I had no idea why this was important to her.

“I don’t know. It was a silver scroll frame, very ornate bordering on kitschy, in my opinion. The picture was huge too and professionally done. I bet she was a cheerleader. She looks like a cheerleader.”

Stevie laughed. “What size was the frame?”

“Why does that matter?” I asked.

“Oh, size always matters,” Dillon replied. “I imagine Rick the Dick is pretty huge.” I lowered my head, awaiting my mother’s disapproval of my new boss’s nickname.
Thanks, Dillon!

“You call him Rick the Dick?” Billie asked, blinking.

“We settled on Big Dick,” Dillon responded.

“Please don’t tell me you call your boss ‘Big Dick’,” my mom said, staring at me open mouthed. We all burst out laughing. Hearing my mom say ‘dick’ was just one of those things I couldn’t help but laugh at.

“Only behind his back,” Dillon answered. My mom shot him her warning glance, the one that meant, ‘enough is enough’. Dillon and Adam were family too, so they knew the look. To save himself, Dillon added, “Marley started it.”