Jill Smolinski - The Next Thing on My List

Two women and two men already sat at a conference table. Bigwood introduced me as his associate in charge of marketing-a lovely, albeit temporary, promotion to Lizbeth’ s job-and went on to bluntly explain why S.C. Electric should give us money.

The proposition, for all its snappy delivery, went down in flames from the beginning.

And then, surprisingly, came my moment.

Even looking back, I couldn’ t say if it was Bigwood wanting to give me an opportunity to prove myself or him deciding, as long as he was leaping from the plane, that he’ d grab me to cushion the fall.

The S.C. Electric people had responded plainly that they couldn’ t fund us because they had limited dollars. Bigwood thanked them, and I expected we were going to leave. But then he turned to me and said, ‘ June, do you have anything to add?’

In real life-that is, my old life, in which I wouldn’ t even be here because I wouldn’ t have been jiggling down the hall and attracting Bigwood’ s notice-I would have made a benign remark such as ‘ I’ m good to go.’

Instead, I set down the notebook I’ d been clinging to. Lizbeth was never going to listen to my pitch. This was my chance. If I blew it, what was the worst that could happen? I’ d never see these people again, and Bigwood could hardly fault me for failing when he’ d done exactly the same thing moments before.

‘ I do have a way we may be able to partner that would be low-cost,’ I said, aiming to keep my voice steady. ‘ It’ ll help you get your feet wet. Once you see the good work we can do, I’ m confident you’ ll want to continue the association at a higher level.’

Then I pitched the hell out of my free gas idea. I was so focused on what I was saying that I didn’ t even worry that I was braless. Without the graphs and charts I’ d been working on, I knew I was the main show, so I did my best to make giving away free gas sound like the next step in reality TV. I painted a mental picture of happy motorists screaming with glee as we told them they’ d won free gas-of how they would surely thank their generous sponsors for this honor, perhaps even wipe away tears of gratitude. All on TV. And all for the low, low price of, say, a few thousand?

They loved it-they loved me! Although they couldn’ t commit on the spot-they first had to run it by the powers-that-be-they assured us they’ d do everything they could to make the project happen.

Later, as we walked back to his car, Lou Bigwood gave my shoulder a squeeze and told me I did a great job.

‘ Thank you, Mr. Bigwood.’

‘ Call me Lou.’

That was when it hit me: I was now one of Charlie’ s Angels. Susan was going to keel over laughing.

I suspected that Lizbeth, however, would be less amused-leaving me to fret the entire way back to the office over how much she’ d try to make my job a living hell.

Chapter 6

I woke to the phone ringing. Seven forty-five on a Saturday. Who’ d be calling this early?

I let the machine pick up, but when I heard it was my mom, I grabbed it. ‘ It’ s not even eight o’ clock!’

‘ It isn’ t? Oh, sorry. Go back to sleep.’

‘ No& ‘ I rolled out of bed and ambled to the kitchen to start the coffee. ‘ I needed to get up anyway. What’ s up?’

‘ I wanted to let you know that Vons has those bags of frozen shrimp on sale for $8.99 a pound.’

As if I knew how to cook shrimp? ‘ Okay& thanks& don’ t think I need any.’

‘ I know, but your father wanted me to call you and tell you to pick some up. They have a limit of five bags. He’ s already been to the store twice, and he’ s afraid if he goes back again, they might catch on.’

I smiled-my dad loved to find the bargains. ‘ Okay. No problem.’ After my mom warned me that the sale ended Wednesday, she and I were free to catch up. While I made toast and peanut butter for breakfast, my mom gave me what I’ ve come to refer to as the floral report-that is, the state of various flowers in her garden. ‘ So why did you need to get up early today?’ she asked after sharing her haunting story about how the delphinium were at death’ s door.

‘ I’ m meeting that girl who might be my Little Sister,’ I reminded her. ‘ The one who’ s fourteen?’

‘ That’ s right. You told me that. But I guess I’ m confused. I don’ t remember the list saying you had to get a Little Sister.’

‘ It doesn’ t. This is for the one about how I’ m supposed to change someone’ s life.’

She gave a derisive grunt. ‘ With a teenager? Good luck.’

Exactly what I was worried about. ‘ What did I get myself into?’

‘ I’ m joking. Sweetie, when you were that age, I’ d have loved it if a caring adult took you out to do fun activities. Maybe you would have been open to that. Lord knows I tried to get you to try new things.’

‘ You did? I don’ t remember that. Like what?’

‘ Oh, you know, learning to play an instrument or taking up a sport.’

‘ Bob did enough of that for both of us,’ I grumbled jealously. My brother-eleven months older than me-had so many activities on his college applications that he had to cut a few for space.

‘ He did always prefer to keep busy,’ my mom agreed, as usual turning a deaf ear to the sibling rivalry brewing. ‘ But you know what I always appreciated about you?’

‘ What?’

‘ I loved how you seemed content being who you were. Didn’ t always have to go running around proving things. Of course, you could have watched less TV. But-’

‘ You thought I was content?’

‘ Absolutely. From the day you were born. Your brother cried and fussed so much as a baby. I had to entertain him almost every minute of the day. But you-we hardly ever had to pick you up. You’ d lie there in your crib for hours at a time, gurgling away. Staring at the ceiling& happy as can be.’

THE AFTERNOON HAZE refused to lift. Even at five o’ clock when Rose Morales and I pulled up to Deedee’ s house, the sky continued to cast its gloomy spell. Luckily, the homes in the neighborhood were painted in intense yellows, pinks, and blues, so they practically generated their own light.

Where Deedee lived was almost tiny enough-yard and all-to fit inside my apartment. It sat mere yards from the entrance to the Marina Freeway. Even though cars roared by, a group of boys attempted to play a game of soccer on the street. I felt a twinge of rent-controlled guilt knowing that they probably paid twice what I did.

Rose put her Honda Civic in park and rolled up her window. The plan was to visit with Deedee and her mother for a few minutes. The mother didn’ t speak any English, so Rose would serve as interpreter. Then Rose and I would take Deedee to the Sizzler for dinner.

‘ Anything else I should know?’ I asked before getting out of the car. Frankly, I was nervous about meeting a blind woman who didn’ t speak the same language as me. What were we going to do-feel each other hello? I supposed we could chat about burritos or huevos con queso, my command of Spanish being limited to food words.

Reading my worries, Rose assured me, ‘ It’ ll be fine. Maria is a kind woman, and you and Deedee are going to hit it off. If for any reason you don’ t, you’ ll let me know. We’ ll find you another match. It’ s that simple.’

We walked to the house, and Rose rang the doorbell. After a moment, a boy answered the door. He was about ten years old, with a wide mouth and a haircut that looked as if it might have been self-inflicted. He left us there, shouting in Spanish. A bit later, a girl I assumed was Deedee came to the door and told us to come in.

The house was sparse and neat, and as soon as Deedee’ s mom came bustling up to meet us-short, broad, and dressed in a pink terry sweat-suit-I understood why neatness mattered. I’ d have never known she couldn’ t see if Rose hadn’ t tipped me off. She clearly knew the lay of the land. If my own mom had been relying on Bob and me to pick up our things so she wouldn’ t trip, she’ d have been falling and breaking a hip every other day.