But she did hold the door for me. I’d have to call the Times when I got upstairs. She even greeted me with a smile. “You’re home from work early today. Is everything okay?” The Times story moved to the front page. I had proof of alien invasion. The body snatchers had definitely landed.
“Just taking a little time off,” I said as I stepped through the door and allowed her to close it. “Thanks for holding the door.”
“You had your arms full,” she said. “Come on, Winkie.” She tugged on her rat’s leash and headed up the stairs.
I watched her in shock until she was inside her apartment, then climbed the stairs to my own place. Of all days, I needed her to be nice to me today. If she’d been her usual self, I’d have burst into tears.
Inside my apartment, I put away the eggs and butter, then tried to decide what I should do. Now that I was home, being alone in the empty apartment didn’t seem like such a good idea. At work I’d have had something to distract me. If I sat on my bed and cried my eyes out, I could get it out of my system enough so I could act like I was fine when my roommates came home. I didn’t want them pitying me.
That decided, I went into the bedroom and changed out of my work clothes. After I’d put on jeans and a sweatshirt, I paused to touch the shoe box. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at the red shoes now that I knew they weren’t going to get me what I wanted.
That was when the tears returned. It was so unfair. I was doomed to be alone the rest of my life because I was too boring and ordinary for anyone to want me. I’d never have a chance to wear the wonderful red shoes because I’d never have another date again.
Finally the sobs subsided and I began laughing instead. I was being an utter idiot. So what if I was having the suckiest week ever, from losing the magical immunity that was the main reason I had my job to losing my boyfriend. I still had a lot going for me. I couldn’t think of much at the moment, but I was sure there was something.
I went into the bathroom to wash my face. On the way back into the living room, I noticed the light on the answering machine blinking. I hit the message PLAY button and heard my mother’s voice. “Um, this message is for Katie. This is your mother. I wanted to let you know I got the information on that place where Mavis went to dry out. I put a brochure in the mail to you. Maybe you could give it to that friend of yours next time he bothers you.” That was the final thing I needed for my cure, the mental image of doing an intervention on Phelan Idris and sending him off to the Betty Ford Center.
When I finished laughing, I turned on the radio to a station that was already playing Christmas music and went to work on my cookies. Baking always made me feel better about life. The kitchen was a mess and I was covered in flour when my roommates got home, but at least I was no longer weeping. I was able to give them a reasonably cheerful greeting, and when Gemma asked, “How did your date go? I want details,” I managed to roll my eyes instead of crying.
“Would you believe, it wasn’t a date at all? He planned the whole thing just to break up with me.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I told you he was an ass,” Marcia muttered. “Can I have a cookie, or are these for something?”
“Take one of those over there that aren’t shaped right,” I said, pointing with an icing-covered spatula. “And he wasn’t quite an ass. He simply didn’t want to go any further with me, so he told me about it. It’s not like I can blame him for having an opinion that differs from mine.”
“On the first day of a breakup?” Gemma asked, picking up a cookie. “You can blame him for anything you want to. It’s only a day or so later that you have to start being reasonable.”
I went back to stirring icing. “Well, it’s not like I’d want him to keep going out with me if he wasn’t really interested, and I definitely wouldn’t want him sleeping with me if he wasn’t interested. I’d be even more pissed off if he hadn’t told me at all and had left me hanging with no explanation and a lot of ‘I’ve been busy’ excuses.”
“Girl, you are way too reasonable,” Marcia said. “I’d still be calling for his balls.”
“He did break up with you at lunch, therefore ruining your whole day,” Gemma added. “It looks like you came home early, based on your cookie output.”
“My coworker said she’d cover for me,” I explained. “And besides, we’ve started this secret Santa thing around the company, so I had to come up with some treats for my secret pal.”