Common Sense Doesn't Become Me (15 page)

When I woke the next morning, I had to trudge
through getting ready. By the time I was three blocks from my
apartment, my car died. It made a gagging sound and sputtered, then
nothing. Dead. It would not start or move. I was in the midst of
morning rush hour on a major side street, and some not too happy
co-drivers were honking at me. As I got out of my car, put my hood
up as a signal that my car was down, a woman in her fifties pulled
over and parked in a metered parking spot, right next to where I
was stalled. In her navy work dress and three-inch heels, she
offered to steer my car off the main street to a parking spot empty
ahead of me while I pushed. I thanked her profusely as we worked
together to get my car moved out of the way. She jumped back in her
car after wishing me a better day, and I waved her on with a smile
as I watched her merge back into traffic an inch at a time.

It could have been worse. I could have been
on the highway or further from my apartment. I texted Wally Woo
that I needed a vacation day because my car died on the way to
work. Then I sent a second text to make it seem as if I was being
productive: 'I am going to work on my college courses.' He sent me
an 'ok' back.

I grabbed my purse; tossed in enough coins in
the meter for two hours, and hoped like heck my plan to get my dad
to come have my car towed would work. I locked up my dead car, not
that anyone would steal it; it wasn't worth stealing, or that this
was a bad end of town. Even so, there were bums known to take a nap
in unlocked cars around here. I trudge the block and half away from
my apartment to the bakery. Not a healthy sign that I was visiting
here again this week, Marion's cupcake trip was just yesterday.
However, I was in dire need of a blueberry muffin and large hot
coffee, flavored with lots of creamer to help me walk back to my
apartment. By the time I made it home, both were gone, and I
figured I would call my dad and let him handle the dead car
situation for me. If there was one thing that made him happy, it
was to come to my rescue. I never let him deal with my man drama,
but my dead car or late bill drama; he was first on my list.

I closed my apartment door, just as I hung up
with my dad on my cell phone. I set my purse on my table next to
the door and stood there shocked and dismayed by what I saw.

There, in Mason's apartment, across the
alleyway from me and in plain sight, was a naked, except for a
towel, Mason. His back was to me. However, that did not shock me.
What did, was the naked blonde bimbo with big boobs, naked - did I
mention that, standing in front of him, with her naked boobs facing
towards my apartment. I watched her move in on my man. I watched
her arms wrap around his neck, and his hands come up. I could not
watch anymore. He must have thought I was at work, and it was safe
to play with woman number two. I turned and stormed into my room,
tossing pillows at my door and practically growling with a
scream.

When I finally lost steam from picking up and
throwing my twenty or so decorative pillows about ten times, I
grabbed an extra dark-blue bed sheet out of my closet. I went to
the kitchen and found my silver duct tape. I walked right over to
my window with the bench seat that faced his place, tossed the
cushion he got me onto the floor, and I put that sheet up over the
window. I did look though. There was no naked Mason, or naked big
boob woman standing there. I didn't care. What I did care about was
the fact that I was officially over playboy Mason Montahue, I'm not
good enough for you.

Chapter Eleven

"Sitting around eating
all the blue peanut M&M's out of that two pounder bag of
M&Ms you got there is not going to solve any of your problems."
My Aunt Heather, recently back from the Bahamas, tanned and heavy
blonde streaks that have taken over her brown hair, took the bag of
M&Ms out of my hand and walked over to the trash can, hit her
foot on the pedal that raised the lid, and dumped the rest of the
M&M's in, bag and all.

"What the hey? I was going to eat all the
yellow next." I stammered while cuddling deeper into my couch as I
hit the mute on the movie I was watching. I tossed a glare at my
Aunt Heather that could evaporate a bad politician from thin air
for misconduct.

As my aunt stood there, freshly tanned from
the Bahamas, some curl to her long mostly blonde but born a
brunette hair and striking a motherly poise in an outfit that
wasn't motherly, she decided to scold me in tone. "Listen. You will
thank me later. Think of all the hours on the elliptical it would
take to burn those off. Not to mention, if you were my age, and
once you turn forty, the metabolism turns off. Best to start now on
better habits." She smiled as she grabbed the red handled straps of
the white trash bag, pulled it up out of the trash can, tied the
red handles in a triple knot, and then put a fresh bag in my trash.
Like taking out my trash would make it any better.

"I'm only doing this because I love you.
That, and the fact that if I didn't take this out to the dumpster
on my way out, you would have pulled it out of the trash and
started on the yellows."

My aunt knew me all too well. However, I knew
I would want to run right out and buy another bag. The only thing
stopping me was that I was in desperate need of a shower, and my
hairy legs could out hair Sasquatch.

It had been three days since I saw Mason, and
work thought I had the flu. Right after the bimbo sighting in
Mason's bedroom, Wally Woo spent an hour listening to me cry and
babble then told me I had not called in a sick day in over six
months, vacation days excluded, and he would put me down for the
flu if I promised to get all caught up later this week on
paperwork. This was not part of my grow up and act mature now that
you are thirty plan, not to mention Mason had quit trying to reach
me by text or phone as I had not returned one single text or
message.

Then as I watched my aunt set the bag of
trash by my door, I knew I would not be dumpster diving in my own
kitchen trash can. However, I would take a shower and visit the
local gas-n-go. "By the way." She chimed in as she pointed to the
dark sheets I had duct taped up on my big window that looked
directly into my neighbor, slash super, slash heartthrob gone awry.
"What gives?"

"He gives. He turns on the heat like a
burning fire and then takes me to meet his family, where I am not
grown up enough, or educated enough, for his father. Then he tries
to soothe it over after he has gone back to his family, after he
took me home because I did not want to spend another minute with
his family Sunday brunch being judged. I decided I wanted to slow
things down. Then, work is giving me college classes to shut mom
up. Then I come home from a broken-down car on Monday morning's
rush hour to witness that he's got more than one candy in his trick
or treat bag, if you know what I mean. I happened to have seen him
kissing some stupid blonde woman, no offense, but you are not a
natural; you choose to be blonde, and you are not stupid either.
So, this hot looking chick is kissing him, and I was stuck staring
at them thinking, well shit. By the way, how was the Bahamas and
why didn't you take me as a birthday gift bee-ouch?" Everything I
just rambled out in incomplete, nonfunctioning sentences, hopefully
made sense to my aunt who had no idea what had happened in my life
in the last week and half, other than she caught Intel on my
birthday fiasco at the restaurant and I was dating some famous
guy.

My aunt's laughter filled the room, and she
answered with a simple tone. "I see. Bahamas rocked, and it's hard
to take you when I'm taking a man." She winked at me with a
vivacious smile, and went over to stand up on the window seat,
yanked all the duct tape down, and then tossed the sheet on the
floor.

I covered my eyes and squinted from the
sunlight that flooded the room and growled. "What the hey?" My head
went under my blanket.

"Stop sulking." She sounded motherly. "Crying
and grieving over a man is one thing. Hiding away and stuffing
M&M's down your throat like it's no tomorrow is another. No guy
is worth it, even if you're married." Then she climbed down, tossed
the duct tape in the new trash bag she put in my kitchen trash can
for me.

I peeked out of my blanket and glared.
"That's easy for you to say. You've had three husbands." I caught
the hurt look that immediately crossed her face, and I felt bad. It
wasn't her fault that she had bad choices in men.

"And honey, not a single one of them was the
charm. I'm going for number four. He's looking prospectively
handsome. However, I need to borrow your new tan cowgirl boots you
bragged about buying on Facebook for a fraction of their value.
It's not really smart to post your shopping award picture of shoes
and great prices where your broke aunt can see. It only makes me
find a reason to borrow them." She smiled at me as she bent down to
pick up the bench cushion off the floor and set it on the window
bench.

I caught myself peeking towards his window to
see if he was there, but he wasn't. "Well. Gee. I thought you came
to see me because you love me." I grumbled.

"I do love you. That is why I am here,
hauling your happy ass off to the shower, and telling you that no
man is worth it. The boots is just an excuse to wear on this date
with my new cowboy. I met him at the gym." Her eyes twinkled.

"Real cowboy or wanna be a cowboy?" I teased.
I got up from under my blanket, threw it off to the side and
clicked the TV off with the remote. I had on the same sleep shirt I
had on twenty-four hours ago; only a lot of food smears and
tearstains that made it look as if I had run it through a sink
disposal cycle.

"Darling. He's real. Like wear the wranglers
with a strain real. Like dually truck and cowboy hat real. Like
works on a ranch and likes to get dirty in the barn real."

"Then what the heck is he doing at the gym,
picking up women?" I started for my room, and she followed behind.
I might as well get her the boots, because I had no intention of
wearing them anytime soon.

I pointed to my closet and then headed to my
bathroom as my aunt went on about how they met the first time when
she was called out for a sick horse. My aunt is a large animal
veterinarian who works on contract for the zoo. "See, he manages a
ranch. I got a call from their regular vet to take a replacement
call. I usually don't go to places like this. Any ways, I happen to
mention to him about the cruise and getting in shape in a month.
This was over a month ago. I didn't tell you because, well, it was
just bad luck to talk about a man until things are a bit more under
way." I laughed internally at the fact that my aunt and I shared
the gift of gab, the brook of babble; we talked a lot and talked in
circles. I thought of how I had been babbling about Mason and
wondered if that is why the relationship was cursed.

My aunt kept right on talking while my brain
went right on thinking. "So one day, he shows up at my gym. Not
like he doesn't get enough of a workout at the ranch. I was sure he
was there to see me as he had called my office three times looking
for me and asked my secretary what time I go to the gym. We went
out for a drink, next thing I know; I've got him sharing a cabin
with me on this cruise four weeks later. Sorry I missed your
birthday family party. He was worth the miss." Then she winked at
me. "If you know what I mean."

I did. And what sucks, is I knew what if felt
like to fall hard and fast for a man and then have things come to a
complete halt. If only I had taken him into my room to change that
morning, we would never have made it to his family brunch. Things
would be far different right now.

"See here's the deal..." I started out and
within fifteen minutes, my aunt got the short of what was going on
with Mason, my new boyfriend, and I told her everything in
hopefully a somewhat descriptive easy to follow story about the
last week and half of my life.

"Wow!" There was a huge expression packed
into that single word as she stood up from sitting next to me on my
bed. She reached over hugged me and smiled. "Where's the boots? And
don't worry, you always bounce back better than ever. I have
faith."

I pointed to my closet and let out a huge
puff of air hoping she was right on this one. She never judged me
when I made a mistake or told me I told you so. She just listened
and told me to get back on my two feet, preferably in cute shoes,
and get on with my life. However, that did not feel right this
time. I still ached to be in Mason's arms again.

I watched her grab the boots out of the box
and holler over her shoulder as she started to walk out of my room.
"Take a shower. Get back to work and that silly now that I am
thirty plan. I'd tell you to burn it, but you my love, are so into
lists and planning that I know you can't do it any other way. You
need to get on with life. I'll call you this weekend."

As I heard my apartment door close, I figured
that I would not get my boots back until I went to her place and
got them back. I also figured; my aunt was right. I needed to get
on with things.

When I got out of the shower, there was a
text on my cell from my aunt. It simply read: Show him what he's
missing out on and find that other fish in the sea. There are
plenty.

Well, at least to my aunt there was. She was
not very particular about the men she dated. If they had muscles,
testosterone and nice eyes, she was sold. I was a bit more
particular about my men.

Or was I? Come to think of it, Mason was the
first man who was from any type of 'breeding stock' as my mom would
call it. Usually, I just went for the muscles and testosterone and
a pulse. It didn't even matter if the eyes made my heart go
pitter-patter. However, Mason's eyes did. They made me want to
stare into them and swoon, which I had done the entire week we were
together.