So I walk into Conagliatelli's for my date with Laurel last night, and she's sitting there in the booth Drew and I always pick, grinning at me like she has a secret she can't hold in for another second. Before I even get my coat off, she says, "Your mom wants you to call her." I'd never noticed her dimples before, but they were impossible to miss with her cheeks so swollen in that smile.
I was racking my brain for any relevant conversation we might have had last Friday. All I could think of was how I told her never knew what to get Janice for Christmas and always wound up at the liquor store on Christmas Eve, which Laurel found ironic since I don't drink. But there hadn't been any mention of calling her, or her calling me, or anything else that would account for the 100-watt grin I was enduring.
Next she points to her teeth, smiling even more exaggeratedly so I can get a good look at how shiny they are. I'm still mystified. Finally she says, "I just had my annual cleaning."
Janice is her dental hygienist. And has been since Laurel was about 16. She's been hearing stories about me, every six months, for the last 12 years. Some of which do not match up to my recollection of what actually happened. Like apparently Janice told her I wanted to move to Cuba and become a communist after college.
All I ever said was it might be a decent place to go on vacation because I'd read it was really cheap compared to other places in the Caribbean. I never went. I never even seriously looked into going. I wound up going to Ocean Shores for a week with Drew and a couple of our other friends. Cuba would have been nicer than the motel we got, which was all we could afford at the time, and probably more than I could afford now.
Even though we worked together for six years, she never connected Janice to me until today, when she happened to mention she had just been laid off. Janice, who could never remember the name of my company (how can you forget McGlothlin-Zilch), at least knew I too had been recently let go. It sounds like it still took another five minutes before they connected the dots from there.
I feel a little violated to think that Janice has been telling stories about me to complete strangers for all these years. I'm not sure if it's better or worse that she butchered so many of the details. On the one hand, getting so many facts wrong helped protect my anonymity. On the other, anyone who knew it was me she was talking about must think I'm a real nutjob. And a communist to boot.
Janice didn't wait for me to call her, btw. She phoned twice while we were at Conagliatelli's. I let it go to voice mail both times. On her first message she just said she had a funny story to tell me. An hour later she told me she was happy for me going out with one of her favorite patients, especially because now she had enough proof to put an end to all the whispers around her office that I might be batting for the other team. So, clearly, she had a couple of drinks between calls 1 and 2.
As to her office rumors, what the hell, is all I can say. I may have been in a slump lately, but she's met most of my girlfriends over the years. What kind of proof did she need? Or anyone else in her office, for that matter? Again, I'm not sure I like being talked about when no one is there to set the record straight. And I'll tell her so when I ever get around to calling her back.
No comments:
Post a Comment