Once Upon Another Time (15 page)

“So much for
remaining inconspicuous,” Laura said, when she suddenly blurted out, “Hey, it’s
him!”  She nudged me to get up from my crouching position.  “I’ll get Nicholas
and keep him occupied,” she said, while you walk out into the mall.  Remember,
the object is to draw his attention so he notices you.  Make it look natural
like a chance encounter.  Sort of like the first time you met him, even though
you were zonked out of your mind and don’t remember.”

I gave a robotic
nod.  With head held high, I tried to muster bravery, but with each step I
took, I felt as though I was making my way to the gallows.  My courage waned
and finally collapsed.  My heart pounded as I took cover behind a
three-dimensional jungle display with the words “Get in touch with your wild
side,” scrawled across the top in hot pink.

I glanced over my
shoulder at Laura with Nicholas in tow.  With lips pursed into a tight knot,
Laura waved her hands at me as if she were shooing hens from a coop.  I pushed
back the thick overlay of simulated animal skin underwear that hung from a
cardboard cutout that looked like a coconut tree, to spy on the man.  I didn’t
have the slightest idea how I’d pull off another chance encounter.  Besides,
what would I say to him?

Hello, remember
me?  I’m the incoherent, babbling idiot who crashed into you at that upscale
restaurant last weekend.  Yes, yes, that was I, the one doing the impersonation
of that Baywatch fellow from years ago who was sprawled across the floor of
that burger place. 

“May I help you,”
crowed a voice to my right. 

My eyes traveled
upward to see Cruella De Vil incarnate.  The woman’s eyebrows were knitted so
high, they looked as if someone had stitched them to her hairline. 

“Um, well…I was
interested in this leopard print bustier.  However, I’m more of a zebra print
person,” I said, and scurried out the door.  That’s when I realized I’d lost
track of the man.

I pushed my way
through a maze of shoppers and then I saw him and unexpectedly found myself in
a time warp.  It was the Christmas of eighty-two.  Yes, I still believed.  And
yes, Santa had delivered the single most important request I had whispered in
his ear at the J.C. Penny store.  It was the most handsome doll that had ever
rolled off an assembly line, perfect smile, rugged square jaw, dark hair, and a
deep bronze complexion--Party Time Ken. 

I edged my way
toward him, yanking on my T-shirt and smoothing my hair, when all at once, my
sneakers screeched, as I came to an abrupt halt.  Some little tart had thrown
herself at him, lacing her slender arms around his neck.  She was dressed in a
sexy white skin-tight top and seductive little pink skirt short enough to show
off her toned tanned legs and narrow hips.  Her wavy auburn hair spilled down
her bare back to stop right above her tiny waist.  She looked like a jeweled
necklace draped over his chest.

This was a bad
idea.
  I swung around to walk away but instead crashed into a revolving
display of vintage old books next to a kiosk in the center aisle.  The racket
drew attention.  I peeked over my shoulder to see Ken looking my way.  He
did
look like the guy in my dream!

I quickly stumbled
to my hands and knees to pick the books up off the floor, when there in front
of me was “Love Spirit.”  Opened to a page that spoke of the protagonist
dreaming about the beautiful spirit, and that he was desperate to find her. 

“Oops, I forgot to
move that.  Sorry,” a boy said, lisping his Ss.

A tall, lanky
teenager with black spiked hair and a complexion like red raspberry preserves
stood over me. 

“Sorry ma’am, I’ll
get those.”  His toothy grin flashed a set of metal braces.

“
No entiendo
,”
I said, trying to ignore the teen. 

The man at the
mall definitely looked like the man in my dream.  Just like the protagonist in
the novel who glimpsed the beautiful spirit and how he desperately searched for
her, I was desperately searching for Matt.  It was as if Matt wanted me to find
that man for some particular reason.  That’s why I’d seen him in my dream.

I got to my feet
and looked around.  The man was gone, but I glimpsed an image of Matt in the
crowd.  His smile was brilliant, his warm amber eyes twinkled mischievously, as
if hiding a secret, and then he vanished.

“Wake up
sleepyhead,” Matt whispered in my ear, while feeling his breath on my neck. 
“You’ll find me when you look into his eyes,” he said, while running his
fingers lightly over my arm, tickling me.  “Aubrey, I love you.”

A shrill sound
jarred me fully awake.  I rolled on my side and snaked an arm out from under
the sheet.  Through eyes of mere slits, I fumbled for the phone on the night table. 
The duvet, neatly folded at the foot of my bed the night before was disheveled
and hung over onto the floor.

 “Hello,” I
mumbled, as my eyes fell closed.

“Aubrey, why are
you still at home?  We’re supposed to be prepping for this morning’s meeting with
Fendworth.”

Laura!
  My
eyes snapped open to glance at the clock on the night table.  I fought to get
out from under the sheet that was tangled around my leg.

“My God, I’ve
overslept.” 

“Aubrey!”

“I’m sorry.  That
never happens.  You know that.”  I lost the battle with the sheet and fell out
of bed.  My body hit the hardwood floor with a thud.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” I
moaned.

I got to my feet,
ran to my dresser, and pulled the drawer open.  Grabbing at my underwear, I
flung them in the air frantically trying to find the right day of the week. 

Laura sighed
dramatically.  “I’ll cover for you.  But hurry!”

“Thanks Laura, I
owe you one.”

Dialing the phone
to call my mother to come watch Nicholas, I raced to the closet, yanked my navy
pinstripe suit off the hanger, and stepped into my skirt.  With the phone
cradled between my shoulder and chin, I wrestled with the zipper on my skirt,
when my mother picked up on the third ring.

*  * * *

Screeching tires
and blaring car horns from other motorists did little to faze me, as I broke
all records while navigating around city streets to cut through downtown rush
hour traffic.  As I sped the car up the spiraling path at the
Arcade
parking garage the tires squealed at every turn.  The two-block sprint to the office
building had my heart flip-flopping in my chest, as I shot through the double
doors. 

I quickly
negotiated my way around the crowd at the elevator.  Impatiently, I jammed my
thumb into the button looking as if I were punching out Morse code, when my
head began to buzz with voices, thoughts, whatever.  It was as if “Inside
Edition” had invaded my mind. 

“Bastard, I know
he’s sleeping with her…”  “Hmm need an excuse…”  “Damn underwear creeping up
my…”  “Yummy, yummy…”  “That promotion better be mine or…” 

“SHUT THE HELL
UP!” 

Heads swiveled in
my direction.  I gave a quick look around at the faces staring back at me. 
Dammit!
 
I needed some kind of cure and at that point, I wasn’t above consulting with a
witchdoctor.  I’d thought about ramming my head into a wall to jiggle my brain
back into place, but I was afraid I’d give myself a concussion.

The elevator door
opened and the crowd rushed in, moving in one solid mass like a giant centipede. 
I pulled my compact from my purse to see how bad my hair looked from jogging
two blocks in humid weather.  My frizzed-out hair had puffed higher than a pan
of Jiffy Pop.

Third floor, fifth
floor, seventh floor--with each stop, I anxiously checked my watch.  My body
fidgeted nervously, like I was doing the “bathroom dance” that marks an
impending bladder explosion.  The dance you do after drinking six cups of
coffee and getting stuck in rush hour traffic.  However, it was just nicotine
craving.

Nine, ten,
eleven
, I counted in my head while concentrating on the red-lighted numbers
overhead.  When the door finally opened to the twelfth floor, it was almost as
miraculous as the parting of the Red Sea.

I quickly stepped
forward to exit the elevator, when the spiky heel on my just-out-of-the-box
navy pumps wedged itself inside the elevator’s metal threshold.  A barge-like
woman almost trampled me from behind as she moved forward, while a collective
sigh erupted from the crowd of people stuck on the elevator. 

I slipped my foot
out of the shoe, grabbed hold of it with both hands and yanked hard.  The upper
part of my shoe snapped off from the heel, slipped out of my hands, and sailed
through the air and into the lobby to meet the forehead of our tall, gangling
office boy.  As his tailbone made contact with the sleek hardwood floor, the
box of shredded paper he carried shot upward.  The red and blue shreds became
airborne and scattered over the floor like confetti at a presidential election,
which caused Mrs. Steadman, our biggest client, to lose her balance and screech
like a banshee.  Her flailing arms caught the shirt of the UPS man carrying a tower of boxes and brought him to the floor with her, which led to three
people sprawled-eagle across the lobby. 

I hobbled into the
boardroom holding my briefcase to my chest along with the broken shoe.  My face
felt flushed, my hair a frizzy, tousled mess.  The eight faces around the table
gazed curiously at me, as if I were an alien boarding the mother ship.  Trying
to avoid eye contact, I breathed a sigh of relief that Fendworth had not yet
arrived and quickly took a seat next to Laura.  Like clockwork, a jumbled mess
of voices surfaced in my head. 

“He’ll never make
partner…”  “Is that a spot on my…”  “Looks like she’s finally lost her
mind…"

Maybe I had
.

I stood at the
counter in the break room and stirred hazelnut creamer into a steaming cup of
coffee, while daydreaming about the man at the mall who looked like the man in
my dream.  I tapped the swizzle stick to the lip of the mug and wondered if I’d
ever see him again, when a warm hand crept up my back.  I flinched and banged
my knee against the bottom cabinet door. 

“Hey, are we
feeling just a little jumpy?”

I turned around and
was face to face with Neil Masters.  His ruffled chestnut hair and cute boyish
grin made him look much younger than his thirty-eight years.

“You really do
need to relax,” he said as he began to massage my shoulder, when his fingers
slid down to rub my arm.

“Stop it,” I said,
pushing his hand away.

Neil’s like a
hotdog.  No matter how many tasty condiments you pile on, it’s still made with meat
substitutes. 

“I was thinking
you really should reconsider my offer to take you to dinner,” he said.

Did I mention
his obsession of bedding women?

“When was the last
time you read the company handbook?” I asked.  “There are rules you know.”

“Rules?” he
questioned, while tapping a finger to his chin, when his gaze traveled from my
face down to my stocking feet.  “Isn’t there something in that handbook that
addresses proper business attire, like footwear?” 

“Yes, well, my
morning didn’t exactly start off on a positive note.”

His eyes sparkled
as he flashed a set of fluorescent white teeth.  “Maybe there’s something I can
do to help
improve
on your less than perfect morning,” he said
seductively.

“You mean like
applying for work at another law office?”

I turned my back
on him and walked out.  My sarcasm left a bad taste in my mouth.

Back in my office,
I swiveled in my chair to face the window.  Two pigeons waddled across the
ledge.  One bowed his head to the other.  While blowing out his neck feathers, he
came close to the outer edge of the ledge.  I thought back to what happened at
the mall, and my own precarious situation.  I didn’t know if I’d ever get the
chance to talk to Matt about everything I’d kept bottled inside me.  I had no
control over the paranormal, and with the quickness of Matt’s comings and
goings, it seemed like he didn’t either. 

Did Matt really
intend for me to meet that one man in particular, or was it just a
coincidence?  Something I conjured up in my mind.  A misinterpretation of the
clues he’d left me.  I had to believe he played a part in it.  Otherwise, why
would I have seen Matt materialize just at that very moment?  And what are the
chances I’d knock into a spinner rack and have that one special book fall at my
feet?  With what I perceived to be another clue, something Matt was trying to
tell me.

Thoughts about
Matt playing matchmaker, gave way to watching the two pigeons on the ledge
outside my window, their beaks now locked together, their heads bobbing up and
down in unison.  Twelve stories up and they looked like they were fighting. 
Their little feet struggled to grip the outer edge of the ledge.

Without warning,
my head began to spin.  I grabbed the arms of my chair and held on tight, as if
I were on the Grinder Gearworks ride in the Gotham City section of Magic
Mountain.  My heart beat rapidly.  While taking gulping breaths, a sudden
bright light whitewashed my office, transforming it into a beautiful place
edged with long stretches of beach lifting at points into dramatic bluffs.  A
place held in time, with windswept picket fences and shingled Victorian
farmhouses and saltboxes weathered gray by sea winds.  I could see Old Harbor
on the lower eastern shore where ferries from the mainland arrive and fishing
boats moor.  The place I was looking at was Block Island, the day Matt died.

It was early
morning.  I saw myself lying in bed asleep at the quaint bed & breakfast we
stayed at, when the ringing of a phone jarred me awake.  The bed sheets beside
me were rumpled.  But where was Matt?  I threw on a cotton robe and glanced out
the window, barely able to see the harbor as low-lining wisps of fog drifted
above the water like spirits circling a graveyard.  Matt’s voice was coming from
the bathroom, the door ajar.  As I slowly pushed it open, I saw the toothbrush
in his hand and his cell phone to his ear.