What You Tell Yourself: The First Angie, Front and Center, Story
By Lisa Shiroff
Copyright 2014
This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
And now…here’s what you came for:
Valerie Mitchelson arrived at Angie’s spa with her two sisters (the three were a set of identical triplets) and a gaggle of friends for a bachelorette’s party. Valerie was the bachelorette in question, which would rather suggest she’d stand out among the crowd. However, she and her sisters came coifed with golden hair pulled back in identical ponytails and wore matching T-shirts with “No! I’m the bride!” emblazoned in rhinestones across their chests. Intent on getting the full spa treatment, none sported the tale-tale sign of a flashy engagement ring on any finger. And, perhaps to keep the confusion at a peak, the sisters thought it hilarious fun that no one was sure exactly who was whom all evening.
The spa personnel, having hosted several of these events in the past, had prepared well for the evening. They’d set up tables with crudités and other finger foods in the reception area and had stationed large ice chests filled with small bottles of water throughout the hallways. Only one bottle of wine was opened at a time; the rest was kept squirreled away in a refrigerator as far from the women as possible.
It’s not that the staff was concerned with drunk driving. The spa was based in the ground floor of a hotel in Atlantic City where the women had reserved rooms for the night. Drunk walking would more likely have been an issue. But that wasn’t of their concern either.
Instead, Angie and her team of professional relaxation artists were trying to prevent a strange phenomenon that often occurs during special moments among friends and family. More than once they had witnessed the best of BFFs and the closest of sisters transform into the worst of enemies when the wine flowed too freely. Regardless of the Zen-like spa setting and the good vibes pouring off the staff, rationing the alcohol was a necessary evil if the women were guaranteed to leave happy.
All that should probably explain why Angie wasn’t exactly sure when she’d met Valerie for the first time. It might also clarify why it took her a few minutes to realize she was speaking with the actual bride-to-be the second time she’d met her.
Angie had gone on a recovery mission to retrieve a bottle of wine from the hidden stash in the employee break room. At first, oblivious of anyone else being in the room, she passed right by Valerie. But as she turned away from the refrigerator, Angie thought she heard the sound of a sniffle, or maybe a small cough. She paused, scanned the room, and that’s when she noticed a huddled form under the table.
She moved a chair aside and squatted to get a better look. There she found one of the triplets, sitting with both legs and one arm embracing a long, tubular bolster pillow like she would a fireman’s pole she was about to descend. Her free arm clutched a half-empty wine bottle. The woman’s face shone, wet with fresh tears.
Either the bride was in a desperate state of remorse or one of the sisters was in a desperate state of something else. Angie wasn’t sure whether she wanted to find out which, but felt an obligation to try to anyway.
“Can I help you?” she asked, kneeling on the floor.
“No. I think I’m beyond help, now,” the woman said and sniffed.
Angie forced her face into a smile that she hoped didn’t look like a grimace. “What do you mean?” She gently tugged at the bottle.
“I mean, I’ve gone too far. I can’t get out of this wedding now, can I?” She met Angie’s eyes and gripped tighter to the bottle.
“That would depend on the circumstances, I guess.” Angie pulled harder. “Are you the bride?”
“Almost.”
With a powerful jerk, Angie yanked the bottle out of Valerie’s grip. The bride-to-be lost balance, toppled back in ricochet and lay still on the floor.
Angie leaned over and saw her eyes were open. Relieved the woman was still conscious, she stood and put the bottle on the table.
“Should I get one of your sisters?” she asked. “Or a friend?”
“Oh God, no,” Valerie lay in an almost intimate way with the pillow. “I can’t talk about this with anyone who has an opinion on it.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“That’s okay. I don’t understand either.”
“Do you need some time alone?”
“That might be a good idea.”
“Okay then.” Angie grabbed another bottle from the fridge and the corkscrew from a drawer. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you.”
“What?” Valerie struggled to make herself sit upright. “You will?” She smiled. “You’ll check on me?”
Angie paused in the doorway. “Well, yes. I think that might be a good idea.”
“That’s a very nice thing.” Valerie scrambled to her hands and knees and stood. “People don’t usually do nice things for other people unless they have to. Thank you!”
Angie nodded and left to give her staff the extra booze. She also let them know where the guest of honor was in case anyone noticed she was missing. So far no one had. When she returned to the break room, she found Valerie sitting in one of the chairs at the table, hugging the pillow.
“I think I’d like to buy this baby,” Valerie said, crushing the bolster in her arms. “Do you sell these here?”
“No. But if you really like it, you can keep it.” Angie squeezed her forehead as she approached the table. “So, um, did you have enough alone time?”
“I don’t know.” Valerie’s chin rested on the top end of the bolster. Angie couldn’t tell if that’s why her words slurred together or if it was from the wine. “I don’t even know if there’s enough time to figure it out,” Valerie continued. She turned her head sideways to rest on the pillow. “I’m supposed to get more and more and more excited about marrying him, aren’t I? Why am I not getting more excited? Why do I think I’m beginning to dread it? What is happening to me? I don’t think I’ve dreaded anything before. I prob’ly never even used the word ‘dread’ before.”
“Ah, I see.” Angie glanced at her watch. The party was expected to end at eleven. She had about a half hour to keep this woman occupied and possibly get her happy again. The fact that Valerie’s speech cleared some when she turned her head gave Angie the hope that she could do it. She just needed to keep her away from the wine. It seemed to Angie, Valerie had crossed that wine-drinking line that separated happy and relaxed from sad and depressed.
“You know, the phrase ‘cold feet’ would never have been developed if it wasn’t such a common thing,” Angie said. “You’re not the first to have doubts. I think it’s perfectly natural and I’m sure it won’t last.” She touched Valerie’s shoulder and headed to the Keurig machine on a counter. “I think I’ll have some herbal tea, would you like some?”
“Why are you sure it won’t last?” Valerie asked. She wiped her face on the pillow. “And you are talking about my cold feet, right?”
“Yes, your cold feet. I’m sure they won’t last.” Angie’s fingers flit through the basket of pods for the machine. “Did I ask if you’d like some tea?”
“Did you get cold feet before you got married?” Valerie asked.
“I never got married.”
Valerie tucked her pillow into the chair next to her, gave it a pat, and joined Angie at the counter. Instead of looking at the tea, she pulled a paper towel from the roll and blew her nose. “Ow. These are rough.”
“Here, use these.” Angie handed her a box of tissues and placed a cup in the Keurig machine.
“Thanks. So you never got married? Were you ever engaged?” Valerie wanted to know. Her childlike curiosity and utter lack of self-consciousness was almost amusing to Angie. She wondered if Valerie behaved like this when sober.
“Yes, once,” Angie sighed.
“What happened?” Valerie returned to her chair and sat backward in it. Angie grinned over her shoulder at her. “Oh, you got cold feet, didn’t you?” Valerie’s eyes were large and wide. The woman’s face reminded Angie of something or someone, she just couldn’t put her finger on just what or who.
“Yeah. I got cold feet and no one talked me into warming them up again.” Angie pointed to the variety of teas available. “We have many flavors. I’m having lemon-mint. What do you like?”
“Do you regret it?” Valerie ignored the offering of tea and picked up the bolster pillow. She tucked it between her belly and the back of the chair. “Not getting married, I mean? Do you wish you had?”
“I tell myself regret is against my religion.” Angie turned to lean against the counter and face Valerie. “I did what I thought was right at the moment. If I knew then what I know now, maybe I’d have made a different decision. Who knows? But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything to look back and say ‘if only I hadn’t done that.’ You know?”
“I guess so.” Valerie frowned into space.
“How about something citrusy?” Angie asked, picking up a pod. “Or maybe some chamomile?”
“Where’s my wine?” Valerie looked about as if she just realized she didn’t have the bottle with her.
“They needed it out in the party. What about this one?” Angie held a pod for her to see. “Lemon, blueberry and passionfruit.”
“That almost sounds good. I guess I could try it.” Valerie sniffed. “But, seriously, why did you do it? Why did you cancel your wedding? Was it you or him?”
“Honestly?” Angie removed her tea and prepared the machine for another cup. “It was both of us. He was a great guy. Everything I could want. He was funny, smart, responsible. But he had this photograph that made me nuts every time I looked at it.”
“A photograph?” Valerie perked in her seat. Her round eyes appeared even rounder. “Of what? Was it pornographic?”
“Ha!” Angie laughed. “If it was, I might have been able to handle it better. But no. It was a framed photograph of dog pee in the snow.”
“What?” Valerie rubbed her forehead.
Angie pushed the brew button on the machine. “Someone’s dog peed in the snow somewhere. Someone else saw it, thought the yellow slush looked like Elvis’ face and took a picture. He posted a framed version of it up for sale on the internet and Kevin, my old fiancé, bought it for seventy-five hundred dollars.”
“No!” Valerie gripped tight to the bolster pillow. “How much?”
“Seven thousand five hundred.”
“Really?” Valerie’s mouth hung open, almost forming a perfect “O.” Again, Angie thought she looked familiar.
“Really. He claimed it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. He had plenty of cash. He could easily afford it, so I wasn’t upset about him wasting the money. My problem was every time I walked into his apartment, that picture was the first thing I saw. And every time I’d think, ‘God! What kind of idiot buys that?’ Then one day…” Angie paused as she pulled out Valerie’s cup of tea. “I decided I couldn’t spend the rest of my life asking that question every day without eventually hating him for it. I loved him too much to ever hate him. So I broke off our engagement.”
“Wow.” Valerie accepted her tea. “That’s really deep. How close was it to your wedding day?” She looked in the cup. If her face was reflecting her thoughts, she suspected the contents might be toxic.
“About a month.” Angie sat at the table across from her.
“Did your parents complain about the expense?” Valerie sniffed her tea and wrinkled her nose.
“I was paying for most of it. My dad understood but my mom didn’t talk to me for a couple of months.” Angie raised her eyebrows over her cup. “Which only helped confirm that I’d made the right decision.”
“Funny,” Valerie said, but she didn’t laugh. “I think I’ll go out where the wine is.” She left her cup on the table and Angie thought that would be the last she’d see of her.
She was wrong.
Because Angie had worked the bachelorette party until eleven Friday night and stayed to help clean afterward, she had scheduled herself to have the next morning off to sleep late. So when the phone rang at seven-oh-five, she was more than a little groggy. In fact, her head was so fuzzy, she was sure she’d misunderstood Carlita.
Angie hung up, sat up, shook her head and dialed the spa to clarify the situation.
Carlita answered and confirmed she’d found a woman sleeping with a bolster pillow in a pile of dirty laundry. The woman had said her name was Valerie Mitchelson.
Angie took her time getting dressed and preparing to be seen in public. A hung over bride-to-be who’d already had her bill paid by someone else wasn’t worth bad hair.
Carlita was waiting for her in the reception area when she arrived. She pounced on Angie before the door finished shutting behind her.
“I am washing that woman’s clothes. They stunk. They smelled like she’d slept in a wine barrel overnight,” Carlita said.
“Thank you. That was kind.”
“Not kind. Necessary. I also made her shower. She stunk, too.”
“Again, thank you. I’m sure she appreciated it.”
“I don’t know what she appreciates but,” Carlita wagged a finger at Angie. “I do know, because of her, we now have several towels that used to be white and now resemble hippie shirts.”
“Hippie shirts?” Angie grinned at the formidable maintenance woman.
“Yes. You know,” Carlita turned her finger to point toward herself and swirled it in large circles. “With the rings of messy colors?”
“Oh, tie-dye?”
“Yes. That.” She cocked her head at Angie as if daring her to fight.
“Okay,” Angie said and waited.
“And, because you insist on using hippie detergents here, or what you call environmentally friendly soaps, we might now have tie-dye towels forever.”
“I see. You can use bleach if you need to.”
“Hmm.” Carlita pursed her lips. “Well, she is in the break room now. She claims she cannot find her phone and doesn’t know a single phone number by heart. I think she lies. I would make her empty her purse in front of me if I were you.” She nodded once and stepped aside to let Angie pass.
“I’ll take that under advisement.” Angie made a mock salute.
“You laugh now, but mark my words, she’s trouble.”
This time Angie found Valerie sitting in a chair at the table in the break room. She wore a spa robe and was sipping coffee.
“Good morning,” Angie said to her. “So there was no room at the inn?”
“Huh?” Valerie looked up. Her mouth hung slack.
“You didn’t go back to your hotel room with your friends?”
“Oh, that. No.” She giggled. “I guess I got a little sneaky.”
“What do you mean?” Angie sat beside her at the table.
“They went off in little groups. I told each of them I was walking with someone else, then I ran back in here and hid when you all were cleaning.” She shrugged. “I guess they haven’t noticed I’m not with any of them.”
“Don’t you think you should call someone and let them know where you are?”
“I don’t know anyone’s number.” Valerie’s eyes drilled her coffee cup.
“But surely you know what rooms they’re staying in. And if you can’t remember that, you could call the front desk.”
“I can’t!” Valerie shouted. Tears sprung from the woman’s eyes. “I thought you understood me last night.” She crumpled into the table and sobbed.
“Understood what?” Angie resisted the concurrent urges to pat her back and laugh at the drama.
“I just need some time. I…I don’t know if I can go through with this wedding. I mean,” Valerie sat up and wiped her face with her hands. “I’m supposed to get married tomorrow. And all last night, after I talked to you, I kept thinking about his breath.”
“Oh, is it bad?” Angie stood to get herself a cup of coffee. “Does he have halitosis? There’s medication for that, I think.”
“No, it’s not bad,” Valerie said slowly. “At least not in the way that you’re thinking. It’s, it’s uncomfortable.” She twisted in her chair to face Angie. “When he sleeps over at my place he always has his arms around me, which is nice and all…But after he falls asleep, his breath blows over my skin. Sometimes I feel it on my cheek. Sometimes on my neck. And it irritates me so much, it keeps me awake. Then I’m crabby the next day because I’m tired. He thinks I’m just not a morning person. But I can’t take it. Really. Last weekend I even made up an excuse to not let him stay over just so I wouldn’t have to feel it. And, after talking to you, I realized, I might end up hating him for it. You understand, right?” She clutched the back of her chair. Her eyes begged Angie for confirmation.
“Oh God,” Angie squeezed her forehead.
“Ange!” Devi yelled as she entered the room. “Really, you must not do that. It is encouraging frown lines. Talking to you is like talking to my kids. You never listen.”
“I listen.” Angie smoothed the skin on her brow. “I just keep forgetting.”
“Are you a facial lady?” Valerie asked her.
“I am an aesthetician, yes.” Devi pulled a pitcher of cucumber water from the refrigerator. “And you are?”
“She’s the bride from last night’s party,” Angie said.
“Oh, are you receiving more services today?” Devi asked.
“I don’t know. Can I?” Valerie asked Angie.
Angie met Devi’s eyes. “I want to squeeze my forehead right now.”
Devi laughed and left the room.
“We’re booked up today.” Angie templed her fingers like Buddha. It didn’t have the same effect as squeezing her forehead. “Besides, you had an awful lot done to you last night, right?”
“Right, yeah. Well, can I just hang here for a little while? I just need to clear my head and I feel like I can do that here. No one here will try to tell me how lucky I am to be getting married. Can I? Please? I promise I’ll leave as soon as I figure out what I’m doing.” Valerie sucked on her lips. Her face, particularly her pained eyes, once more, reminded Angie of something or someone.
Angie’s stomach told her she was about to make a stupid decision, but she made it anyway, perhaps because she couldn’t squeeze her forehead. “Yes. You can stay for a while. Just keep out of the way and call your friends so no one will worry, okay?”
Valerie nodded, smiling.
With her fresh coffee in hand, Angie went out to explain to her staff that they had a visitor, but she was not someone who got services free of charge. She thanked Carlita for calling her and for taking the initiative to wash Valerie’s clothes, and then headed to her office to get a jump start on the following week’s paperwork.
If it had been a physical jump, her toes would not have left the ground.
“Uh, Ange,” Erika knocked on the open office door. “That chick who’s sitting in the break room wants to help me set up. Is that okay? Is she supposed to be observing us or something?”
“She’s not supposed to be doing anything but a little work might be good for her. Go ahead, let her help.” Erika turned to leave and Angie finally listened to her gut. “Just supervise her closely!”
Angie turned her focus to the various promotional materials her ad agency had put together for the upcoming spring season. As she made marks on the graphics and wrote a few notes in the text, she could hear the day’s first clients enter and be escorted to their rooms. She worked with the soothing hushed tones of her spa in the background, something that generally encouraged her to feel relaxed and at ease. However, today unfamiliar noises crept in. They were soft at first, but they grew louder despite someone’s insistent “SHHHH!”
The voices went from whispers to muffled grunting. Simultaneously, out of the corner of her eye, Angie noticed a white robed figure hustling to and fro in the hallway. After a couple of passes, she noticed an increasing sense of urgency in the figure’s movements that corresponded to an increase in decibels of the unidentifiable noises. Eventually Angie thought she heard a shriek and she knew for certain she heard a crash.
She tore out of her office.
At the end of the hall, just outside a massage room, stood Valerie in her robe. An upturned stone warmer and a couple dozen gray basalt rocks were strewn about her feet.
“What the hell is going on out here?” Angie asked.
“Oh, that woman in there,” Valerie explained and nodded her head toward the massage room. Angie peeped in. A female client sat upright on a table, clutching the blankets before her bare chest, glaring out the door. “She wanted one of those hot stone massages.”
“But not so hot my skin burned off,” the woman interjected.
“So, yeah, I guess I set the heat up too high or something,” Valerie continued, eyes open wide. “Because I heard her complaining through the walls.”
“I wasn’t complaining. My skin was burning!” the woman yelled. “I was in pain.”
“So I ran real quick like and got some cold ones to balance it out. But it wasn’t enough. So I got more. And then she started complaining because she was too cold.”
“Again, I wasn’t complaining. They were like ice!” The woman’s eyes shot poisoned darts into Valerie.
“Yeah, I got the picture,” Valerie huffed at her. “Like I said, I heard you screaming, so I got—”
“I, I understand.” Angie interrupted and put her hand on Valerie’s arm. “Where’s Marissa? Isn’t this her room?”
“That’s what I’d like to know. I requested Marissa!” the woman insisted.
“Yeah, she was here,” Valerie shrugged. “But I don’t know where she went.” She dropped her voice to an almost whisper and held her hand to her mouth so the client couldn’t see her lips move. “I think that lady in there pissed her off or something, because Marissa said she had to go center herself before she hurt someone.”
“Right,” Angie squeezed her forehead. “Centering is always good.”
“Hey that facial lady said not to do that.” Valerie removed Angie’s hand from her forehead.
“Right again.” Angie clenched her jaw into a smile. “Um, why don’t you go on down to the break room and work on centering yourself? Let me deal with this here now, okay?”
Angie put both hands on Valerie’s shoulders, turned her around and gave her a gentle shove. She swallowed, took a long therapeutic breath in and faced the seething client on the table. “I am so terribly sorry,” she began a genuine apology and continued with a long drawn out, made up excuse. She ended by promising the woman not only a free massage that day but a free one in the future, which wasn’t enough.
By the time Marissa was centered and had returned, the woman was face down on the table, ready to receive a stone-free massage, an aloe wrap, and eyelash extensions. All on the house, of course.
Carlita was in the hallway picking up the basalt stones when Angie exited Marissa’s room.
“What happened here?” she asked, holding up the warmer. “I think this is broken. How do you break a warmer?”
“Valerie,” Angie started and stopped in response to Carlita’s hand popping up.
“What is that woman’s problem?” Carlita asked.
“She’s working through some personal issues.”
“And she must do that here?” Carlita thumped a stone loudly into the defunct warmer. “Didn’t I tell you she was trouble?”
“You did. But she’s not. She’s just confused.”
“But why is she here? Why not go home and be confused?”
“She can’t go home yet.” Angie blew out a stream of air. “And I don’t know for sure, but I think I might be responsible for her confusion. So I’m okay with her working through it here.”
Carlita muttered something in Spanish and bent to finish picking up the stones. Angie headed back to her office, taking a detour to stop by Devi’s room.
“Hey there, Dev,” she said with a bright smile. “Just wanted to give you a heads-up. The wax heater may be at the wrong setting. You might want to double check it before you start using it.”
“Thanks, Ange.” Devi squinted at her. “My eyes are burning like mad. Is it just me or is there something in the air?”
Angie stood straighter and sniffed. Her eyes did feel a twinge and she noticed the air seemed to have an astringent quality to it. She thought she could smell tea tree oil, which was odd, because the aromatherapy room was in an entirely different hallway. She followed her nose to the break room and found Valerie hunched over an electric essential oil diffuser. She looked up when Angie came in. Her face twisted in a frown so hard, it made Angie uncomfortable.
“This shit stinks!” Valerie said. Her bloodshot eyes teared. “Ew! What on Earth do you use it for?”
“How much oil did you put in?” Angie rushed to her side and, with her own eyes stinging, unplugged the unit. She folded several layers of paper towels and drenched them with cold water. “Here,” she said, handing the wet towels to Valerie. “Rinse your eyes with this. Don’t put your face so close to it next time. And seriously, how much did you put in?”
“The bottle.” Valerie pressed the cold compress into her eyes.
“The whole thing?” Angie wet more towels and rinsed her own eyes.
“It’s a tiny bottle.”
Angie dried her face and handed a fresh towel to Valerie. “You’re only supposed to use a few drops. A little goes a long way.”
“Oh, so maybe that’s why it came out so slowly.” Valerie took the dry towel. “Your eyeliner is smeared all over your face. You should probably wash it off.”
“I’m sure, but I need to take care of this right now.” Angie looked around. There were no windows in the break room. “And you can’t stay in here. Follow me.”
She led Valerie to her office, told her to just sit and returned to the break room for the aromatherapy diffuser. After wadding up more paper towels and shoving them into the slots of the machine to block the scent, she toted it down to the laundry room and found Carlita.
“Hey there, sweetie,” Angie smiled at her.
“You look like you been punched.” Carlita gave her a lopsided grimace. “What did that woman do now?”
“She went a little overboard with the tea tree.”
“Why are your eyes black?”
“Long story. But, um,” Angie handed her the diffuser, “I think we’ll have to throw this away in one of the outdoor trashcans. Any idea how to get a scent in the break room to a nontoxic level?”
“Aye yai yai!” Carlita threw a hand in the air. “She is destroying this place. How long is she going to be confused?”
“I don’t know. I think she needs help,” Angie said.
“What kind of help?”
“Emotional maybe? I think I’m going to try to contact one of her sisters who was here last night.”
“Why don’t you call your sister. Isn’t she a therapist or something? If it’s emotional, she can handle it.” Carlita shook her head and opened a cabinet. “I’ll take care of the break room. I get time and a half for today, okay?” She pulled out a giant box of baking soda.
“Deal. Is that going to be enough to get rid of the smell?”
“It’s only a start.”
Angie returned to her office, relieved to see Valerie was still there, just sitting as commanded, and nothing had been disturbed or broken.
“Shouldn’t you be going home to finish up last-minute details?” Angie asked as she dropped to the chair behind her desk. She pulled a small mirror from a drawer and wiped the smeared eyeliner away with a tissue. “I’m sure there is much to do to prepare for your big day.”
“No. Nothing for me to do. Everyone else was doing everything for me. I’m just supposed to show up at ten tomorrow morning to get my hair and makeup done.” Valerie turned her blank face to stare openly into Angie’s eyes. Angie finally realized what was so familiar about her. The woman’s face was similar to the matryoshka and Japanese kokeshi dolls that Angie collected. There was a vague attribute in their round, blank, thoughtless faces that compelled Angie to want to take care of them. She thought perhaps people who feel the need to get a dog felt the same way when they saw puppies.
“Have you given your situation any thought?” Angie didn’t want the responsibility of anything alive and breathing.
“I have.” Valerie blinked a couple of times, slowly and deliberately, as if it were hard work. “I think I’m almost ready to make a decision. But could I have a little more time? I promise not to play with any more of the equipment.”
Carlita entered with Valerie’s clothes. “Here,” she said, handing them over. “You can get dressed now.”
“Yes, why don’t you do that? I need to make a call anyway. You can use the locker room, okay?” Angie said to Valerie. As soon as she left the room, Carlita took her place in her chair.
“I’ll wait here while she makes her mess in the locker room,” she said.
“I’ll call Lucy now.” Angie smiled at Carlita and she dialed her sister.
Lucy answered on the fourth ring, sounding out of breath.
“Are you OK?” Angie asked. “Why are you gasping?”
“I was in the garage. Cleaning.”
“What? It’s your first weekend without the kids and you’re cleaning the garage?”
“Yes. I made the most amazing hash browns this morning.”
“I don’t get the connection, but—”
“I was peeling the potatoes,” Lucy said. “And I kept thinking about how easy it would be to remove Lester’s eyeballs with the pointed end of the peeler.”
“Oh,” Angie squeezed her forehead and felt her own eyes popping out as she looked Carlita.
“Mess in the locker room,” Carlita sang.
Angie nodded at her and held up her hand.
“So I realized I hadn’t completely worked through my anger,” Lucy continued. “And I told myself cleaning the garage would be a great opportunity to do it.”
“I see.” Angie swallowed. “So, uh, I was actually calling because I need your help.”
“Oh, what’s up?”
“Well, I have a client who’s not sure if she should get married—”
Lucy laughed so loudly and hysterically, Carlita could hear it.
“And, um,” Angie went on, “I’m not sure what to do with her.”
Lucy continued laughing. Angie thought she heard her pounding on the table.
“Oh my God!” Lucy shrieked. “Where is she? Put her on the line! I’ll tell her all about what it’s like to be married. What it’s like to think your husband loves you. What it’s like to meet his girlfriend twenty years into your wedded bliss. Please, let me at her. She might be better therapy for me than cleaning the garage.”
“I’m sorry, Lucy,” Angie said. “Really. That was insensitive of me to call you at this time.”
“No, not at all insensitive. Whew!” Lucy’s voice settled. “In fact, I love the irony. But seriously, if her doubts are valid, she should at least postpone it until she can be sure.”
“How will she know if they are valid?”
“If she tells herself they are and she believes it.”
“Thanks, and did you save some hash browns for me?”
“Of course. Come over tonight. We’ll have breakfast for dinner.”
“It’s a date.” Angie hung up and smiled at the grinning Carlita.
“So that’s her problem?” Carlita laughed. “Let me deal with the chiquita. I will tell her, yes, she should get married. She needs someone to take care of her.”
Angie’s stomach twisted in a knot.
“ANGIE!” Devi burst in the room.
“Oh no, was the wax too hot?”
“The wax is fine but you MUST get that woman out of my room! NOW!”
Angie and Carlita both followed the storming Devi down the hall and into a facial room. They found Valerie there, in her jeans and rhinestone-studded T-shirt from the night before, peering through the magnifying lamp poised over a client’s face.
“Oh my God, honey,” she said to the woman on the table. “Good thing you’re here. Looks like some little alien person laid eggs in your forehead.”
“Valerie!” Angie yanked her by the arm. “Dev,” she whispered, “whatever you do to that customer today, make sure she knows it’s on the house.”
Angie dragged Valerie into the hall, down past reception and out the front door.
“Okay, time’s up. I can’t afford to have you hang around here any more today. You gotta go take care of yourself. I can’t do it for you.”
“Well, fine. If you think I’m ready,” Valerie said, her big eyes tearing up as if on cue.
“That’s not up to me. You’ll be ready if you tell yourself you’re ready.”
Valerie brightened immediately. “Hey! I like that!” She squeezed Angie in a hug. “Thanks so much! You’re just the best.” She skipped away in what Angie hoped was the right direction.
Angie never expected to hear from Valerie again, but she did anyway, first thing Monday morning. Actually, she heard a long and rambling message from her on the spa’s voice mail:
“Hey there! You are never going to guess what happened to me. So I decided I’d just make Jeff roll over or something when we sleep and I went ahead to the wedding. Would you believe he stood me up? Left me right at the altar. At first I was pissed, then I was sad. And then I said, whatever, and I went on my honeymoon anyway. And I think I’m going to start a new career when I get back. I want a spa of my own, just like yours! Hey! Maybe we can be business partners or something! I’ll give you a call when I get back. I at least want to get one of those really cool pillows from you.”
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