Valerie’s eyes bore into me from the next workstation over as I sit back in my chair and rub my arms.
“Him again?” She’s aware of the guy who chooses to harass me out of all of the 911 operators, and of the strange things he’s asked me.
Do I like my job? How do I choose? Do I have regrets? My skin crawls as I fail to convince myself it’s not personal.
“Yeah.”
“Still no luck tracking him?” She leans over, attempting to see my computer screen.
“Nope.” I wish there was a way to figure out who he is but he eludes the 911 call center’s tracking system. We’re pretty sure he’s responsible for a lot of the hang-up calls and that he only speaks when I answer.
“Shake it off, Tabs. He’s just some pervert who likes your voice.”
“He wouldn’t know my voice if he hadn’t talked to me before.”
“What did he say this time?”
“He asked if I liked playing God?” Goosebumps break out as I repeat his words.
“You sure you don’t recognize his voice? It doesn’t conjure up anyone you pissed off or a jilted lover?” Her tone becomes more solemn with this question.
“Virtually impossible since I’ve been celibate for years.” I make the blunt admission even though Valerie and I have been friends since we were in diapers and she’s fully aware of my lack of relationship status. Not that it’s by choice but since chronic fatigue hit hard after high school, I haven’t dated. And the few romantic options from school moved on to more fun relationships a decade ago.
“Maybe someone who wanted to be your lover? He thinks your magic pussy’s going to cure all of his problems and he just needs you to let him dip his wand in.”
I glance nervously around the call center. It offers little relief that no one’s paying attention.
“Keep your voice down. Magic hoo-ha’s only exist in those books you read, Valerie.”
“But you admit they exist.” She raises her eyebrows.
We share a laugh before I pick up the next call. It’s a quick and easy police dispatch.
The second I disconnect she says, “Please go out with me this weekend. You don’t have to hook up with any guys. We can just hang out. Instead of sitting on your couch, you can sit in a bar. It might be good for you to have a change of scenery.”
The challenge prompts me to assess my energy level which fluctuates anywhere from nonexistent to any-lower-and-I-would-be-dead.
“Not this weekend. I had a physical therapy appointment yesterday and I didn’t respond well to the new exercises. I’m way too exhausted and my pain level’s not going to make me good company.”
“Sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“Seriously though, rest up. Save all your energy to sit at the bar with me next Friday night. We’ll go to this upscale one that has a more relaxed atmosphere. I’ll even let you borrow a sexy dress.”
“Promise we can come home when I’m ready?”
“Absolutely. Unless you meet a guy and want to get horizontal with him. You did tell me that laying down offers more heart rate control than sitting up, right?”
“You’re terrible. I don’t have enough energy to keep up with the dating scene.” I barely have enough energy to keep up with my life. My doctors have tossed around the term chronic fatigue but we haven’t found any solutions.
“Who said you had to keep up with anything? I’m just proposing that it might do you good to let someone make you feel good.”
“Fine, I’ll go as long as you do my hair and makeup. I don’t want it to be too obvious I’m dull.” I don’t feel bad asking Valerie to help, she has a knack for it, plus I don’t own makeup or anything beyond a hair brush, which makes me completely unprepared for this outing.
Valerie pulls her phone out of her purse and I realize it’s time to go home. We walk out as she quizzes me on how I want to wear my hair and if there’s any particular style of dress I want. Seems excessive to put this much effort into it a week out, but it makes her happy.
She walks slowly through the parking lot with me, which is nice. Sometimes when I’m with her, the way she takes my illness in stride, I almost feel normal. She actually has me excited about switching up my routine and sitting in a bar instead of on my couch for an evening.
I stutter step when I catch a guy watching us. Anxiety wells inside of me. He’s in his car, parked across the street as we walk through the parking lot. The hair on the back of my neck prickles as he drives away.
“Look.” I point as his car vanishes around the corner.
“At what?” She takes a second to look up and misses him.
“I’ve seen a guy parked out here a few times.”
Valerie motions to the car-filled street. “What’s so weird about that?”
“Probably nothing, just my paranoia after the creeper call.”
“The call center’s attached to a police station. We can go back in and ask them to keep an eye out. It’ll just take a second to give them a description of the guy and car. You know the questions… hair color, build, make, model…”
I continue walking toward our cars. “Yeah, this’ll help. He’s a brown-haired, thirty-something Caucasian, medium build, based on his face. And the car is a newer model, black two-door.”
I motion down the street at two other black two-door cars and huff.
“Either way, it’s up to you,” she offers.
“Considering that I’m standing beside my car and don’t have enough energy to walk back into the station, my decision’s made.”
“That bad today?”
“Yeah, I’m going to crawl into bed early tonight.”
Valerie chuckles. “Earlier than normal? Don’t skip dinner again.” She understands the delicate balance of supporting me without belaboring her concern. I’m capable of caring for myself, I just have to sit and rest a lot.
“I promise, I’ll eat dinner first.”
***
“I can’t believe you’re going out. That’s so exciting,” our mutual friend, Monica, says via speakerphone. We call each other at least once a week to check in. She worries about me but respects that I’m okay with my life.
I’ve had enough time to adjust my plans and learn to live with my abilities but it’s hard for my two besties in the whole world to see the toll chronic fatigue takes. I learned early on that fighting the tiredness only made it worse.
Valerie’s adding a little bit of curl to the ends of my hair and says, “Wish you were here, Monica. We could gang up on Tabitha and find a rich guy who wants to pamper her.”
I pipe in, “Enough ladies, I agreed to go, and you both know that’s a stretch.”
“Is that a bad connection?” Monica says. “You want a guy to stretch you?”
I can’t help but laugh.
Valerie adds, “Seriously Tabitha, you need to get laid. An orgasm would be good for your mental health. It’s like a shot of relaxing hormone and you just drift off.”
Monica bursts out laughing. “Yeah right, assuming you finish yourself off.”
I’m fully aware of orgasmic bliss but would rather this conversation ends.
Valerie says, “You’re not helping any, Monica. How are we going to convince Tabitha to get a guy if you tell her she has to do all the work?”
Monica relents. “Fine, I’m sure there are plenty of men out there who are dying to give you orgasms, Tabitha.”
“Thank you, that’s very believable. I’ll be sure to ask about that when we do introductions.”
Valerie says, “I better get her out of here before she curls up on the couch with a blanket.”
“All right, good talking to you two. Have fun tonight.”
Valerie angles me to the mirror as we hang up the call. I’m amazed at the beauty she’s transformed me into. Could the Cinderella fairy tale be real and Valerie’s my fairy godmother?
Not only am I gorgeous, but the joy of talking to those two leaves me refreshed. It’s a rare moment that a genuine smile covers my face.
“Does that mean you like it?” Valerie fusses over the exact placement of the pins she put in my hair.
“Yes, thank you for talking me into this.” Sometimes I get caught up in my disability and forget to find ways to enjoy life. It’s a crapshoot since overdoing it can flare up my symptoms, but sitting for a couple of hours ought to be okay.
“You gave up a lot, but you don’t have to give up everything.”
I pat her hand and she pulls me in for a giant hug.
“Don’t get all sappy on me, Tabs. Your makeup is perfect. I can’t have you making a mess of your mascara.”
I take a deep breath. “All right let’s do this before I start yawning. Cinderella may have made it to midnight but ten is a pretty wild evening for me.”
Valerie shakes her head. “I’ll be able to bring you home at the end of your evening then head back out and hit the town.”
“That sounds perfect. I appreciate you not giving up on me.”
“What are friends for?” She hands me the small purse with an extra-long strap I can hang over my shoulder, and we head for the car.
When we arrive at an upscale hotel, I’m taken aback by the elegance.
The doorman greets her by name and she informs him that I’m her guest for the evening.
He nods and his smile indicates I’m a nice choice for a guest, or else I haven’t been out enough and I’m overreacting to a simple smile.
We continue through the entry and Valerie motions down a hallway, past the main bar.
I whisper to her, “What is this place? And how does he know your name?”
“I didn’t say much because you were bogged down with your health crap. I heard about this hotel.” She motions around us. “You have to have a membership to hang out in the exclusive bar. It cuts out a bunch of the run-of-the-mill assholes. I made the executive decision that since I’m man-hunting, I want a guy with money.”
“You’ve come to the right place.”
She guides me into the bar and the dim lighting adds to the ambiance.
“Have a seat. I’ll get drinks.”
I choose a table along the wall, wanting to be out of the main flow. It’s also a great location for people watching.
That’s about all I’m good for other but I feel kind of bad that I’m taking up her time to man hunt.
After a few minutes, she’s returning from the bar and for a second, I think one of the men at the bar is watching her but his gaze is on me.
I divert my gaze quickly but glance back.
He could stare at her ass like every other guy does but he’s definitely looking at me.
My insides tingle in a way they haven’t in a long time. The intensity of his expression leaves no doubt he’s a man of determination. He’s well-groomed with a close-cut beard and mustache that have a GQ quality. The way he fills out his suit jacket extols the virtues of a good workout. His broad back and wide shoulders have me longing to run my hands over what appears to be a rock-hard body.
Unlikely he’d be interested in a couch potato. Not that I’m looking to meet anyone, I remind myself. I widen my smile then quickly divert my gaze to Valerie.
Her brow furrows as she sets our drinks on the table and looks over her shoulder.
“Turn around Valerie,” I say through gritted teeth.
She sits and raises her eyebrows at me. “Look at you drumming up interest already.”
I fumble for words a few times before managing, “I think he was looking at your butt.”
“He was looking at you.”
My effort to distract her from that fact fails.
“I smiled at him, just…nothing… It wasn’t anything.”
“Should we invite him over and ask him if it’s nothing?”
“Absolutely not.” This is what I was afraid of. Valerie means well, but the thought of a relationship is overwhelming.
“It would be fun.” She draws out the words.
A glimmer of the old me agrees, but I don’t want to have to explain to someone else that I basically have no life. A barely functional status quo is all I can handle.
Valerie looks his direction again with no subtlety, then turns back. “Are you sure all you did a smile? He looked over here again.”
“Quit encouraging him.” I wish I lived in a fantasy world where I could believe this gorgeous man is made for me. The flutter of my heart would certainly have me believing it. I’m not even sure if I can walk in my heels right now my legs feel so jello-y.
What if Valerie and Monica are right? Sex wouldn’t cure me but it would be nice not to orgasm alone.
“Think about it, Tabs. This guy is hitting on you, or getting ready to. Mister Dressed To Impress isn’t likely to ask you to go for a jog, just hang out with him, and maybe get lucky.”
I’m lost in a fantasy of going through with this, assuming he’d be willing to have sex on a first date anyway. Otherwise, there are too many complications to make it worthwhile.
“I don’t want to see the pity in his eyes when I explain that on bad days, I get winded walking from my bedroom to the kitchen.”
She slaps a hand on the table and it makes an overly loud smack. I focus on her, refusing to look around and see how many people noticed.
Her mouth drops open in revelation. “Does this mean you’re considering hooking up with him?”
“I’m disabled, not dead. He’s the epitome of perfection.”
“That seals it. We’ll get him to come over here and I’ll conveniently step away.”
“Nothing is sealed, Valerie. What if my heart rate does one of its weird things and won’t come down? Do I tell him I need to lie down?”
Her eyes light up, “That’s the best line ever.”
“It’s not.” I can’t help but laugh though.
She glances his way again and her shit-eating grin appears.
“Fine, use the line or not, your choice, but you don’t have long to decide.”
“What?” I look to the side and he’s two feet from our table.
