Authors: Layne Harper
As I finish my dry cereal, there’s a knock on the bedroom door. I walk across the soft carpet and open it to find Jenny standing there. “Security’s here.” I’m wondering why she didn’t call or text me, as I notice her peering around me into our bedroom.
“You can tell Colin that I’m not vomiting, and I ate my breakfast like a good girl. You can also report that I’m going for a run, but not too long of a run because I’ve got my babysitters with me,” I say as I brush past her, slamming my shoulder against hers. I immediately feel bad. I guess it’s not her fault Colin told her about my past struggles with my eating disorder.
Jenny says, in her same even, condescending voice, “There are women standing in line that would cut off their right tit to be cared for by that man.”
I turn and look at Jenny so I can make sure that she gets my point. “Well, there’s only one woman that that man wants, and it’s me. I get it Jenny. I’m not your favorite person. I’m sorry that Mark and Colin had a falling out. I’m sorry that I’ve moved in to Colin’s house and you feel replaced, but I’m here to stay.”
I don’t wait for her response, because I really don’t care. If this were the first spat that Jenny and I had, I would have stayed and talked it out. Jenny personally blames me for the prescription painkiller abuse allegations that are dogging Colin. She blames me for Colin firing Mark and Kenzie, who are her friends. I’ve added Jenny to the list of things that our relationship has seemed to ruin, because she’s made it abundantly clear how she feels about me.
When, I walk out the front door of the McMansion, I’m greeted by my running detail. I know Miguel from previous running excursions, and trips around town. He sometimes accompanies Colin and me when we’ve done our longer runs outside of the gilded cage.
He introduces me to the new guy. His name is Carter. I’m not sure if it’s his first or last name, but the guy is all kinds of fine. He looks like that he’s been carved out of chocolate. Hard, luscious chocolate. As I introduce myself to Carter, I find myself blushing. It’s been a long time since a boy besides my fiancé has made me blush.
Miguel speaks up, interrupting my improper thoughts about Carter. “We’re going to Brad’s?”
“Yeah. I’m hanging out at his house today. Y’all can just check it for bad guys and then come back here.”
“Mr. McKinney asked us to remind you to bring your phone.”
I roll my eyes. “Once I’ve been safely delivered to Brad’s, you can call Mr. McKinney and tell him that I already have it with me,” I say, as I point to my armband that holds my phone.
I turn and begin my run as I fiddle with my phone turning on my running playlist. Miguel and Carter are smart enough to stay about five steps behind me. Just because I’m in a foul mood, I decide to set a punishing pace today.
As we jog past the security guard shack, the guard tips his hat to me. The guy is seriously beyond nice. He’s always smiling and when he laughs he looks like Santa Claus. I actually wonder if he’s really all that much protection, or just gives the illusion of security. I smile back and give him a gentle hand wave.
The paparazzi are waiting outside the gate. They snap away as I run past them. I ignore them, and pretend that it’s normal to have strangers take my picture while I exercise.
Instead of turning left to go toward Brad’s house, I turn right. It feels so good to run right now that I’m not interested in a destination.
About two miles later, I’ve forgotten that Thing One and Thing Two are trailing me. I get lost in my own thoughts and my music. The longer I run, the less out of control my life feels. As each foot pounds against the pavement, I gain a little bit more of me back. I’ve quit checking my Garmin running watch. I haven’t got a clue how far that I’ve gone. It’s just me again, with my awesome running mix of songs that range from Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Want To Have Fun” to Disturbed’s whole album
Down With The Sickness
. My music is turned up loud and drowning out the bad, unhealthy thoughts in my head. I’ve forgotten about wayward football players, bitchy assistants, my dad, finding a new job, the godforsaken media, and Colin’s fans. It’s me, my music, and my running shoes. I’ve found my nirvana again.
No one is pretending to be my friend so they can sell insider gossip on Colin and me to the press. My phone isn’t ringing with reporters who are hoping to catch me off-guard. Colin’s not asking me for a wedding date. Brad’s not pressuring me to go through the stacks of job offers that have rolled in. My muscles and bones are pounding the pavement, driving the stress out of my body. I’m lost in my own world.
I don’t want to stop. Ever. I feel like Forrest Gump. I could just keep running and crisscross America, never slowing down. Never having to face the demons that are plaguing my life back at home.
When my playlist restarts itself, I know that I’ve run really far. I reluctantly start slowing my pace until I’m walking. I glance back at Miguel and Carter, who are in great shape, but they’re huffing and puffing, also. I pull my headphones out of my ears.
“Damn girl, we just ran eighteen miles,” Carter confirms.
The three of us begin a slow walking pace as our cool down. I finally take a look around, and realize I have no idea where we are. Miguel pulls out his iPhone and quickly finds us on the GPS. “Well, Caroline, it looks like that we’re about ten miles from Brad’s house. What would you like to do?” The look on his face says, “Please don’t make us run there.”
I take my phone off of airplane mode and ignore all the texts from Brad. I just hit reply and type.
Me:
Come pick us up. I’m sending you our location
.
Brad:
Where have you been? You were supposed to be here an hour ago
.
Me:
Running
.
I don’t bother to read the next text from him. It’s just going to be pissy.
I need some cold water and a hot bath, because my leg muscles are aching. I haven’t run like this in a really long time. Like, it’s been so long that I don’t want to remember the last time I did this. The three of us keep walking in silence. There’s a part of me that feels like I should apologize to the guys. But I can’t determine what I should say. “I’ve got issues with control, and I’m a recovering anorexic and bulimic” sounds a little like too much information.
Instead, I just pretend that this is normal for me. I drop a couple of statements about training for a marathon, hoping to diffuse the situation.
Carter laughs, and says that he will not need to go to the gym today. As I check out Carter’s physique, it’s obvious that he doesn’t miss many trips to the gym.
Brad pulls up in the Range Rover, and the three of us climb in. I get no greeting. Brad’s furious with me. “Where to?” He’s dressed in blue jean cutoff shorts and a very well-worn vintage T-shirt. His outfit screams, “I like boys.”
“Back to my house. Let me get a shower, and then I’ll be your Tommy,” I reply trying to pacify him while taking in deep breaths.
“Tommy as in Sarah and Tommy? I love that show,” Carter replies.
Carter and Brad discuss their favorite episodes of
Sarah’s House
the rest of the way home. Carter asks Brad if he’s seen the
HGTV Magazine
where Sarah remodels a kitchen. Brad gushes about the new house that he’s fixing up. Carter asks if he can come see it when it’s finished. Miguel flashes me a questioning look, and I just smile. I couldn’t care less that Carter is flirting with Brad on the clock.
As we pull up to the gilded cage’s gate, Brad rolls down his window and tells the security guard, “I had to fetch the gingerbread man, and return her home to grandma’s oven.” That earns the best assistant in the world a punch to the arm.
Brad parks his car in Colin’s driveway. He’s in a better mood after his house discussion with Carter. I’m glad. I don’t like it when Brad’s mad at me.
As we walk into the house, the good feeling from my run evaporates. I don’t want to face Jenny and her tattling, or see how many more wayward players our house has accepted. My black cloud is thick over my head as I walk through the back door.
I leave Brad and the security guys in the kitchen, drinking water and eating bananas, and head toward the bedroom. Colin has a mini-refrigerator in the bathroom that he keeps stocked with bottled water. I’ll sip on a bottle or three while I relax in the tub.
As I walk past Jenny’s office, I glance over, hoping that she’s got her back turned so she won’t see me sneaking in. Instead, I see long, dark chestnut hair on a very petite frame sitting in a chair in front of Jenny’s desk. They’re laughing and gossiping like old school chums. I have a sinking feeling in my gut that I know who that brown hair belongs to, so I step into Jenny’s office to confirm my suspicions. When Jenny sees me, her face goes slack. “I thought you were at Brad’s today?”
“I came back,” I say as I turn to see the face that the brown hair belongs to. It’s been almost a decade, but I would recognize her anywhere. “Hello, Jenna. Is there something that I can help you with?” I sound neutral and friendly. I mentally give myself a pat on the back.
There are times when you want to run into your fiancé’s ex. A time I would have accepted is Colin lavishing attention on me, while I looked like I just stepped off the cover of
Vogue Magazine.
A time I would not is when I’ve just run longer than I should have, and could pass for a drowned rat.
“Charlie, what an unexpected surprise,” Jenna says, with as much venom as I feel at seeing her in my home. “I came by to pick up a few of my things that I’ve left here. In fact, my bathing suit might still be in the closet—the one that you’re now using. It’s a red, string bikini. You would obviously know that it wasn’t yours.” She looks me up and down appraisingly, which makes me want to hide.
“Oh, Jenna. I assure you that, when Colin and I moved my clothes into his empty closet, there was nothing that belonged to anyone else but him in it,” I reply, lacing my response with honey. I turn to Jenny. “Jenny, please help Jenna collect whatever belongings that she’s left here and show her out.” I give Jenny an evil look.
As I turn to leave Jenny’s office, I make a spur of the moment decision. I’m going to put Miss Jenna is her place. I stop and turn around. “By the way, I think that it’s very generous of Colin to have paid for your education and bought you a home. In fact, it’s one of the qualities that I love most about him.” I place extra emphasis on the word love. “However, Jenna, don’t mistake Colin’s kindness towards you as love. He’s only in love with one woman, and that’s me.”
I walk away before she has a chance to respond, because I frankly couldn’t care less about what she has to say to me. I wonder if Jenna is one of the girls that Jenny mentioned that would cut off her right tit for my fiancé.
I close our bedroom door with a little more force than necessary and begin stripping off my sticky, wet clothes. I’m shaking because of my run, and my confrontation with Jenna. The more I think about it, the angrier I get. How dare she show up at Colin’s home, unannounced? How dare Jenny let her in without consulting me? I feel disrespected and affronted.
I wonder why Jenna still feels so entitled to Colin? I suspect that his relationship with her has been more than that of a benevolent friend over the years. Colin’s made it clear that he had quite a healthy sexual appetite, feasting on many women while we were broken up. I would bet money that Jenna was one of them. The thought makes me shiver.
I stomp toward the master bathroom completely naked. We spot each other at the same time, and scream. Alice has the ironing board set up in the middle of the bathroom and is ironing my Hanky Panky lace thong. I grab my robe and throw it over my shoulders belting it as quickly as possible. Poor Alice hides her eyes, looking at the floor. Her cheeks are glowing red. Her eyes never leave the Sausalito tile as she apologizes over and over.
This is it. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t live like this. I can’t have someone iron my underwear. I remind myself that it’s not Alice’s fault. I use every bit of my good manners that my mother taught me, and politely ask her to excuse herself so I can take a bath.
She says, over and over again, that this is where she normally irons Mr. McKinney’s clothes. She says that she thought I was gone for the day. Jenny said I would be gone until tonight.
I try calming her down by reassuring that I’m not mad. I’m not. She did nothing wrong. I just need a bath, and to be alone, and for my fiancé’s former fuck buddy to get out of my house, and to have some sort of control over my life again, and to have a house that I can walk through without tripping over football stuff. As she hurriedly grabs our clothes that need to be ironed, I ask her to leave my underwear.
I knew that magic laundry elves didn’t wash my clothes while I slept, but knowing someone is washing my thong panties and actually seeing them ironed are two completely different things. My first inclination is to throw them all away because someone else touched them—ironed them, for God’s sake. But, I know that’s not rational.
Right now, if I was in Houston, I would text Doctor Benson and ask for an emergency appointment. The last six weeks, or really, two months, have been nothing but triggers for my illness. Today’s just the perfect storm of out-of-controlness.
I remember how good it felt when I was running today. I know how I can make myself feel even better, and in control. And no guards will bother me while I do it.
Then comes the rationalizing part of my illness. I’ll just do it once. No one will know. I’ll just do it until I feel in control again, like I felt on my run. Colin will never find out. It’s not like he has hidden cameras in our house. In fact, no one will know. I will never tell another soul. This will just be my dirty little secret.
First, I open my cosmetic drawer and find an eyeliner pencil. It’s brand new, so it’s still long. It’ll do the trick. Second, I lock our bedroom door. Then, I pull the doors to the master bathroom closed, turn the lock, and check to make sure that they’re secure. Finally, I take my robe off and walk into the toilet closet, and close and lock those doors behind me also.