Do or Di (36 page)

“And he told you it would stop,” I said.

“It stopped years ago. What I told him is that I better not have any reason to ever suspect it is happening again.”

“Is that it? You’re just making him promise not to do it again? I think you guys need to see someone.”

“You’re offering me advice?”

“I’m offering a suggestion,” I countered.

“At least I have a
real
relationship.” She grabbed the paper on the counter and tossed it toward me. It spun across the granite top until I caught it. It was folded up to the entertainment selection. There wasn’t much doubt which story had caught her eye.

He Said/She Said
He Said, She Said
: It’s All About Ratings

In today’s tight radio market it takes a hook to have a winning show. KYTZ’s show He Said, She Said made its hook the volatile relationship between hosts Erin Callighan and Colin Stewart, although an inside source at the station has revealed the one thing
He Said/She Said
He Said, She Said
forgot to mention is that they aren’t really dating. The talk show has become a sudden smash hit, going from a respectable number seven to number one. The charm of the show relied on the witty banter between well-known talk personality Stewart and newcomer Callighan. Listeners loved their chemistry both on and off the air. The couple appeared on local television and in a billboard campaign.

The source, who requested not to be named, came forward to reveal that the station only recently became aware of the deception. The idea of posing as a couple was apparently the idea of Callighan in an effort to secure a position with KYTZ. Stewart has been with station KYTZ since 1994 and has been voted the “Voice of Seattle” three years in a row.

Top-rated shows bring in advertising dollars for their stations. He Said, She Said is currently under review for syndication, a decision which could launch the show to a national platform. Station management refused to comment on how they will handle the deception. Regardless of what the station decides, listeners will have the final say as to whether they are interested in what he—or she—said anymore.

I looked up from the paper. I hadn’t seen that look on my mom’s face since the time I got in trouble for toilet papering an elderly neighbor’s house. It hadn’t been my idea, it was a classic case of peer pressure and poor decision making, but in the end it didn’t matter. I might as well have been kicking kittens. It was a lousy thing to do. I knew it even while we were doing it. It was nothing compared to how I felt when my mother talked to me about it. Her disgust for me was clear. Just like now.

“The article isn’t one-hundred percent correct.”

“So you aren’t lying about a relationship with Colin.”

“That part is true, but it wasn’t my idea.”

Mom tossed her dishtowel on the counter.

“I’m going home in the morning.”

“You’re leaving because I lied about my job?”

“Erin, grow up.” Her voice was flat and hard.

She walked out of the room and back into my bedroom. She had already started packing. The suitcase was on the bed, her carefully folded Talbots collection stacked in tidy piles.

“You can’t leave.”

“You didn’t even want me to come.”

“That’s not true.”

She shot me a look and my face flushed hot. She still had the mom radar for a lie.

“You think I don’t know a thing about your life, but the truth goes both ways. You don’t know a thing about mine either,” she said.

“I know you want me married off.”

“Oh please. You make it sound like I’m trying to sell you off to a harem or something. Do I want you to be happy? Yes, I do. Do I believe you want to be in a relationship? Yes, I do. Did I want you to lie about some made up relationship? No. I feel like a fool. Everyone in this family thinks by lying to me, by telling me only what they want me to hear, that they’re doing me some type of grand favor. Well, you can all just go to hell.”

I was struck dumb. My mother never swears. She typically sticks to things like “h-e-double hockey sticks” or “fudge.” She jammed clothing into her bag. No tidy origami packing, no tissue paper between each layer, they were just shoved in.

“I got fired.” I paused. “It’s possible I quit. It was sort of a gray zone.” I heard her give a sigh. She sat on the bed and gave the mattress a pat. I plunked next to her. I had a moment where I thought I might engage in a meaningful discussion with her about the direction of my life, but instead I burst into tears. Not a tiny ladylike cry, but a full fledged wail. Keening really. My mom didn’t say a word, just rubbed my back.

“Erin, what do you want for your life?”

“I don’t know,” I wailed, my tears ratcheting up a notch.

“Well, you’re going to have to sort that out for yourself. I can’t answer that for you. I wish I could. I’m still trying to figure out what I want for myself. What I can tell you is that if you keep telling yourself that you’re willing to settle, that you’ll sort out what you really want later, you are going to wake up at sixty-four and realize that you’re running out of time.” Her voice cracked at the end.

We didn’t say anything for awhile. We just sat side by side on the bed holding hands.

“You don’t have to go home,” I said. “I want you to stay. Really.”

“Thank you, pumpkin, but I have to go back. One thing I’ve realized is that I don’t want to run away and wait for someone to sort this out. I need to sort this out myself. Just like you’ll sort out what you need to do when the time is right.”

“You’re a neat lady, Mom.”

“I get it from you.” She patted my knee. “Come on, I’ll make you a dinner you won’t soon forget for my last night in town.” She bustled toward the kitchen. “By the way, I know the relationship with Colin was made up.” She held up a hand to stop me from interrupting her. “I don’t want to get into the reasons, but what I can tell you, the sparks between you two weren’t made up. The chemistry between you two
is
there, no matter what lies you’re telling each other. You can’t hide the truth from me. You aren’t that good of a liar. Never were.”

“Was too.”

“No, I just let you think you were. You know that broken vase? The one you told me was knocked over? You had a party when your dad I were out of town. I knew it the whole time. The neighbor ratted you out. You shouldn’t go for subterfuge. Honesty suits you better.”

* * *

I took my mom to the airport in the morning, came home and cleaned the house. That took me until 9:30. I was starting to get the feeling it was going to be a long day. I made a cup of tea and sat down at the table with a crisp sheet of paper. It was pretty clear my career in radio was over, at least in this town.

THINGS I COULD DO

I wrote in bold letters across the top of the page. I gave it a few extra underlines for emphasis. The pen hovered over the page for a minute and then I started writing.

Move far away and try and build a career in radio there. Australia would be nice—good accents, and the men look good in shorts. Open to any warm weather international location, preferably someplace where dysentery isn’t a big problem.

Seek revenge on Jonathon for being a weenie, use his death as a résumé builder to become an international hit woman. If unwilling to get messy with killing him, consider voodoo doll.

Sell worldly possessions and become a UN ambassador or other selfless pursuit. Bonus points for good intent (versus hit woman option). Downside: lepers or other oozy disease bits.

Return to school and learn something useful that will lead to a rewarding career.

The problems with options one-to-three was feasibility. I was pretty sure Australia was going to want pesky paperwork like a work permit and the potential for prison was too high with option two. I would make a lousy prisoner. All that high-carb food. I would swell up like a blow fish. Option three looked good, but the truth was I dislike discomfort. Places without proper bathrooms give me hives.

Option four made the most sense from a grown-up, realistic point of view. The downside with that option was I couldn’t imagine anything else I would rather be doing than radio. I tapped the paper with the pen, waiting for inspiration. And waited. And waited. And decided to make brownies.

I have long believed in the magical healing properties of chocolate. Granted, chocolate might not make the situation better, but you would feel better and that’s clearly half the battle. I figured I had a few months of savings. Besides, if all else failed, I could re-enter the high-powered field of waiting tables. I could change my name to something like Flo and become a diner diva. I reminded myself that the important thing wasn’t what I did in the short term, but eventually having a long term plan. I was going to make a decision. Right after I took a nap.

Post-brownie coma, I woke up with a clear vision of what I wanted. I wanted a dog. A quick look at my watch confirmed the time. I jumped in the car and raced over to Diana’s school. I gave a honk when I saw her leave the building. She seemed surprised to see me, but jogged over to the car.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I’m going to the shelter to get a dog. I though you might like to come with me.”

“Why are you getting a dog?”

“I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready for the commitment. Do you want to come?”

Diana rested on the window sill of my car, looking back at the door. She stood up suddenly and yanked the door open, folding into the car seat in a graceful maneuver that can only be done by the very young or the very flexible.

“I know a place you can get a dog. Better than the pound.”

“I kinda like the idea of rescuing a dog. I don’t want a dog accessory like Paris Hilton or anything.”

“You realize you have nothing in common with Paris Hilton? I mean, you know it’s not just a small dog keeping people from telling the two of you apart, right?” She gave me a meaningful look. “Trust me, I know the perfect dog for you. Just drive.”

Diana’s directions led to a house that looked a few steps from being condemned. She sat in the front seat looking intently at her fingernails.

“Please tell me that we’re not about to steal a dog.”

“No.” She rubbed the palms of her hands on her legs. “Okay, you wait here.”