NOT What I Was Expecting (2 page)

“I’d say you have
a better than average chance at it,” CeCe assured him as she shot me a smile.

I had to laugh as
it went right over Fry’s head. 

“I know, right?  It
would be so cool.  Luke and his Uncle B invited me back tonight.  They’re gonna
barbeque, so I’m there!” Fry sighed deeply and shook his head slowly as he
contemplated it.  “You two can head out if you want.  It’s slow, and we’re
closing in a couple of hours anyway.  Just leave everything to me.  I’ve got
it.”

We gladly called
it a day.  Fry really was a first rate employee and an even better friend. 
Once you understood him, it was all gravy.  For example, we figured out early
on that he worked better in short spurts.  If he was in the shop more than a
few hours in a row, you could see his eyes start to glaze over.  This worked
out well for us, whether he gave us a few free hours during the day, or came in
later, and we left a little early.  Either way – sweet.

Since CeCe rode to
work with me, we used the drive home to brainstorm about what to have for
supper.  Food was a topic near and dear to our hearts, so we always took these
discussions very seriously.  We went through the usual dance of reviewing what
we wanted to cook versus what we actually had the ingredients to make.  Then
came the debate over stopping at the grocery for the missing ingredients, which
led to the concern ‘
if we’re stopping to shop, then driving home, then
changing for comfort, then cooking, would we faint from hunger before there was
food to consume?
’ question.  When all the options were weighed and the
clear choice was made, we pulled into Dan’s Diner.  In our defense, Dan’s
cheeseburgers have been known to convert vegetarians.  Yeah, they are that good.

As CeCe and I slid
into a booth in the back, I couldn’t help but notice all the couples.  I tried
to fight off the lump that had just lodged in my throat, since I felt I should
be happy for all these people who’d found each other.  I shouldn’t feel sorry
for myself because there was no man in my life at the moment.  Wouldn’t that
make me somewhat self-absorbed?  Aw, yuck.  I hate those self-involved people
who think only of themselves.  I don’t want to be one of them.

I should try to be
more like CeCe.  She doesn’t worry about the fact that she’s infatuated with a
guy she barely knows.  She’s not sitting here thinking about him and feeling
sorry for herself.  She’s probably thinking ‘if it’s meant to be, it will
happen’ and that is
such
a healthier attitude.  I want to be healthy.  I
mean, how much harder is this for her?  This has never happened to her before,
since CeCe has always been the one being pursued.  She is used to deciding who
gets to catch her and who doesn’t.  I looked across the table at CeCe.  Here
she is, secretly in love with a man who doesn’t give her a second glance, and
she isn’t upset by all the hand-holding and games of footsy going on in this
place.  She’s sitting here smiling at me.

“What?” CeCe
asked, still smiling.  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing.  I’m
not.  Nothing,” I covered with my usual suave and finesse.

“Okay,” CeCe
giggled.  “Anyway, I wanted to tell you something, and since your mind is
obviously empty right now, I guess this is as good a time as any.  I’m worried
because I’m so in love with Deputy Ben, and he doesn’t even give me a second
look.  You know, I don’t want to be one of those people who sit around and say
‘if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.’  No, no!  I want to be a ‘what do I need
to do to
make
this happen’ kind of person.  So I need your help.  But
first,” she suggested as she grabbed her menu, “lets order already.  I’m
starving.”

I couldn’t help
the surprised expression on my face but tried to hide the hint of a smile that
came from finding CeCe wasn’t as patient as I thought.  I tried not to let what
CeCe thought of as a cute name for Sheriff’s Deputy Ben Simpson grate on my
nerves.  Somehow hearing him called Deputy Ben always brought to mind
fingernails sliding down a chalkboard.  Maybe it was because
Deputy Simpson
or simply
Ben
would make me feel less like I was living in some
children’s TV show.  Nevertheless, I was intrigued by this CeCe who was going
to make things happen and couldn’t wait to hear how.

CeCe gave me a
look like she’d never seen anyone from my planet before.  “Why are you so
shocked?” she wanted to know.  “This is not the time to sit around and do
nothing.  This is the time for action.  I have a plan to move things along with
Deputy Ben, and I need your help.”

Our waiter walked
up at that moment, which was good since I was hungry and bad since I wanted to
hear what CeCe had planned for me to do.  We both ordered cheeseburgers and
fries.  When CeCe also requested an order of onion rings and a chocolate shake,
I felt I had no option but to hang in there and duplicate her order.  If I
didn’t match her in the scarfing-down-food department, it would throw off the
delicate balance that kept us both wearing the same size, therefore, doubling
my wardrobe.  I had no choice.

Once the waiter
hurried off, no doubt to borrow a back brace before bringing out all the food
we’d ordered, I directed my attention back to CeCe.  “What kind of help are we
talking about?” I asked cautiously.

CeCe let out a
heavy sigh, which usually preceded the spilling of her guts.  “Here’s the thing,”
she began.  “I saw Deputy Ben when I went to the post office this morning.” 

“But that’s good,”
I told her as I tried to be encouraging.  “Did you guys have a nice chat?”

Another heavy sigh
escaped, and CeCe seemed to deflate before my eyes as she admitted, “Nooooo –
he was in his squad car, and he didn’t even see me.”

The smile that
faded following CeCe’s last sigh now reappeared with whatever she was about to
say.  “So Maggie,” she plunged in conspiratorially.  “I’m thinking that if you
get yourself arrested, I’d have to bail you out.  That would mean he and I
would have a great conversation starter.  What do you think?  Good one,
right?” 

CeCe wisely didn’t
wait for a response from me but barreled on with her suggestion.

“It wouldn’t have
to be a felony, you know.  I’m thinking a misdemeanor would be enough.  Then I
could ask his advice on how to guide you back to being a law-abiding citizen. 
That would require follow-up conversations to discuss my concerns about new
criminal behaviors you might be exhibiting.  Then I could offer to cook dinner
for him to say thanks for all his advice, right?  What do you think?”

I took a couple of
slow deep breaths before I answered.  We were in a public place, and
truthfully, I didn’t want to disappoint her – as ridiculous as her suggestion
might be.

“CeCe,” I began
softly and slowly.  “You are my favorite cousin, my best friend, actually my
favorite person in the world.  While all that is true, I want you to listen to
me very carefully.  I WILL NOT get arrested so that you have something to talk
about with Ben.  You know, I don’t even understand why you get so tongue-tied
around him.  You have always had guys around you, and you’ve never had any
trouble talking to them.”

“Yes, but I think
I’ve figured out why that’s the case,” CeCe explained.  “The men I’ve dated
before all had something wrong with them.  If there is anything wrong with
Deputy Ben, I can’t find it – and believe me, I’ve done my homework.”

“CeCe, you do know
Ben is not perfect, don’t you?” I said softly, hoping to cushion the blow if
she really believed he was superhuman and immune to the faults of other, lesser
men.

“Deputy Ben,” CeCe
corrected.  “I’m aware he very likely has faults like everyone else.  The
difference is I am already in love with him, so I can probably accept his flaws
— which, let’s face it, are few and far between — when he finally falls in love
with me.  You see!  I have it all figured out.”

The waiter
delivered our food, which gave me a minute to think of a response.

Let’s see, how could
I put this delicately?  I carefully began, “But if you don’t really know him,
and you don’t yet know what his flaws are, how do you know you love him?  Don’t
you think maybe you should keep your options open for the time being?  Like
maybe, I don’t know, seeing a therapist?  There’s an option you haven’t
explored yet.”

“Oh, no, I don’t
need a therapist.  I just need to be able to talk to him without everything I
say sounding like gibberish, so he can go ahead and fall in love with me, and
we’ll be fine,” CeCe clarified.  “You know, there is such a thing as love at
first sight.  I just can’t talk to him because it comes out sounding like I’m
speaking Farsi, which I don’t, but I might as well be because nobody —
including me — understands what I’m saying.  If he just wasn’t so
hot
. 
Maybe he literally gives me a fever?  Is that possible?  Don’t you talk crazy
when you get a high fever?”

“Yeah, I don’t
think that’s it, CeCe,” I disagreed, but tried to think of a way to help her. 
“Why don’t you try picturing one of the guys you’ve dated before when you’re
talking to Ben?  You never had trouble with your words when you were talking to
them.  Like what about Kenny the high school basketball coach?  He was fun, and
you love basketball, so you two had a lot in common.  Just because it turned
out he was dribbling his ball in some other woman’s court doesn’t mean he was a
total loser.”

CeCe looked at me
like she’d never seen me before in her life. 

“Okay, he was a
total loser,” I conceded.  “But it’s not like every guy you’ve dated was a
loser.  They didn’t all cheat on you like Kenny.  What about Dan the Baker
Man?  I remember him as being pretty devoted to you.  He was a good guy wasn’t
he?”

“He was a pretty
good guy,” CeCe agreed.  “His problem was his devotion to his mother.  The
woman was pure evil.  She didn’t like me, and he felt he was too close to his
‘family’ to be dating someone who didn’t click with them.  So no, he wasn’t a
cheater.  He was a ninny baby who couldn’t make a move without mommy’s
permission.  See this is why I’m so attracted to Deputy Ben.  He’s good
looking, considerate, has tons of integrity, and his mother’s dead.  We’d be
perfect together.”

We finished our
food in silence.  Since CeCe was smiling and happy after her last remark, I
thought it best to leave it at that.

Just as we placed
the tip on the table and stood to leave, CeCe’s purse started playing
Pour
Some Sugar on Me
by Def Leppard.  She reached in to retrieve and answer her
cell phone while I smiled at the snickering couple at the next table.  We love
80's music, no apologies.  As we headed toward the door, I noticed CeCe
listening intently to whoever was speaking to her on the phone.  When we stepped
outside and were in the parking lot, CeCe was using her take charge voice as
she said, “It’s all right, Mother.  We’ll be right over.”

As we pulled up to
the blue and white two-story colonial where we grew up, all the outside lights were
blazing, lighting up the whole yard.  I was sure Aunt Shirley was watching for
us from the front window.  According to CeCe, a friend of hers had died, and
she’d sounded pretty upset.

Just then, Shirley
came fluttering through the front door talking very fast.  “Oh, thank you for
coming.  It’s just so sad, and Pearl’s not home yet.  I needed some company.”

We followed her
inside, with CeCe and I both talking at once.

“She’s in a better
place.”

“Every thing is
going to be okay.”

“I guess it was
her time.”

“She’ll be missed,
but everyone was lucky just to have known her.”

We hit pretty much
all the standards.  Shirley was wearing a pale pink, soft, flowing dress that
was classy and tasteful, just like the lady herself.  I’ve never known her not
to match her earrings, dress, purse, and shoes.  Shirley is actually a little
taller than her sister, my mother Pearl, but she’s always seemed smaller.  She
is smaller than Pearl in diameter and demeanor.  Everything about Shirley is
quick and somewhat emotional, whereas my mother’s whole approach to life is
more along the lines of take charge, get the job done, and deal with the
fallout later.  I’d be surprised if you can find one pastel colored item in all
of my mother’s belongings.  She is bold and so are her clothes, but she manages
to keep it tasteful.  As a teenager, I appreciated that she never crossed the
line to clown town like some of my friends’ mothers.

Shirley and Pearl
are both meticulous about getting their hair colored before anyone can see any
roots.  Pearl likes a soft red, whereas Shirley goes for a very light blonde
color.  CeCe and I think they just like being regulars at the beauty parlor and
all the privileges that go along with it.  They get and give all the latest
gossip, there’s always someone there to tell them how wonderful they look, and
politics or the hot topics of the day are energetically discussed.  They deny
it, of course.  They always give some sort of “taking pride in their personal
appearance” speech as their reason.  Uh-huh.

I was really
hoping my mother would get home from her City Council meeting soon and help us
out with the comforting and cheering.  I’m so bad at it.  It’s not that I don’t
feel sympathy.  I always want to help.  I really do.  It’s more that nothing I
ever say actually seems to help.  It’s a gift I don’t have.  CeCe is much
better at it.  She always says I do fine, but I know she’s lying.  CeCe can’t
look you in the eye when she’s lying.  Whenever she tries, the presence of lint
on her shirt becomes unbearable, and her focus shifts there.  I appreciate the
effort though. 

We followed Aunt
Shirley down the great hall and into the living room.  Their living room has
the fireplace that held our Christmas stockings as the focal point.  It’s a wonderful
room with two rocker recliners, the most comfortable sofa in the world, and
another comfy chair with great light for reading.  I’ve always loved this house
along with the people in it, and nothing will ever change that.