FINAL DESTINATIONS (cont'd.)
"Landon? It's Julie. Sorry to be calling so late, but I need help."
"Julie! Uhh...what's up?" He instinctively began climbing the stairs, in search of the shirt and jeans he'd discarded on his closet floor half an hour earlier, as if she were right outside, peering in through his window, catching him in nothing but his ratty old sweat pants.
"I can't talk about it over the phone. Could you meet me in the Krispy Kreme parking lot in about forty-five minutes?"
"Sure," he heard himself say. (Jesus Christ, what was he thinking?) "But it's a horrible night out." (Was he sober enough to drive?) "Wouldn't you rather meet me inside where it's warm?" He'd pulled on his jeans while cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder. His polo shirt was proving to be a little more difficult. He clutched it in his left hand. "Buy yourself a doughnut." He slid on his sneakers, sans socks, despite the windy wet weather he was advising her to avoid.
"No. I don't have any money on me. I can't buy anything."
"Don't worry. I'll pay for it when I get there. Just stay inside, or you're likely to catch a cold." He knew almost as soon as he'd said it that it was a ridiculous offer. Krispy Kreme wasn't a sit-down diner. Customers bought their doughnuts, and then sat, if they weren't racing off, eating them in transit to their final destinations. He also knew perfectly well that people didn't catch colds from standing out in a cold rain, but this old wive's tale was hard to shake and seemed appropriate for the moment.
"I've gotta go. I'll see you there. Thanks so much." And the dial tone buzzed in his ear.
Landon didn't exactly live next door to Krispy Kreme, but even after pulling on his shirt and sweater, lacing up his sneakers, running a comb through his hair, locating his wallet and car keys, and pulling on his rain jacket, he still had plenty of time to make it from The West End to Stratford Rd. before she said she'd be there. What the hell? He'd get there first, buy the doughnuts, and be waiting for her when she arrived.
During the drive and while sitting at the counter waiting for Julie, one eye on the doughnuts, the other searching the parking lot through the plate glass window, he had plenty of time for his imagination (which certainly didn't need any encouragement in this area) to run wild. He'd been working with Julie at the advertizing firm for over two years now. It was a family-run business with just over fifty employees, and everyone knew everyone. As far as he knew, no one harbored any anomosity toward her. She was extremely likeable, and her take on life seemed to be that it was fun, that nothing should be taken too seriously. This combined with a surly wit and the ability to charm people into her way of thinking without even realizing what she was doing made for a very pleasant -- at time, exciting even -- colleague.
However, she was just that: a colleague. He was beginning to realize that if asked about her in great detail, he wouldn't be able to provide many answers, nor would anyone else he knew. Julie loved to draw out others, but she was pretty tight-lipped when it came to her own life outside the office. Now that he was thinking about it, she could almost be described as the de facto staff therapist. She was a good listener. Others would go to her with their problems, Landon included, especially since Laura's departure. As far as he knew, though, she never seemed to seek this sort of service from anyone herself.
Yes, everyone knew she'd grown up in Winston-Salem. Her father had died of colon cancer when she was only ten. She'd graduated from Davidson College, had lived and worked in Charlotte how many years? At some point, her mother had been killed in a car accident, and she'd inherited the large house in the tony Buena Vista section of town. She'd moved back to town three years ago with her husband Joe to live in the house. Joe was a man no one at the company had ever met. "Illusive Joe" they all called him. He was always "going to come" to all the events: impromptu happy hours, birthday celebrations, holiday parties, company picnics...but he never actually did. Those who were inclined to create a nasty art form out of gossip referred to him as "Julie's Lord and Master."
Julie would often let slip that she'd love to join folks on a weekend trip up to Grandfather Mountain, or to spend a late night at the fair when it was in town, or to go see a movie with everyone, "but my husband probably wouldn't be interested, and he wouldn't want me to go without him." Other times it would be, "Let me just check with Joe and see if it's okay if I get home late this evening." She didn't seem to notice the odd looks she'd get from the other more "liberated" young women in the office. However, her charming nature helped protect her from true disdain. They were still drawn to her, still wanted to pal around with her, still took long Friday lunches with her on hot summer days.
(To be continued.)
"Landon? It's Julie. Sorry to be calling so late, but I need help."
"Julie! Uhh...what's up?" He instinctively began climbing the stairs, in search of the shirt and jeans he'd discarded on his closet floor half an hour earlier, as if she were right outside, peering in through his window, catching him in nothing but his ratty old sweat pants.
"I can't talk about it over the phone. Could you meet me in the Krispy Kreme parking lot in about forty-five minutes?"
"Sure," he heard himself say. (Jesus Christ, what was he thinking?) "But it's a horrible night out." (Was he sober enough to drive?) "Wouldn't you rather meet me inside where it's warm?" He'd pulled on his jeans while cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder. His polo shirt was proving to be a little more difficult. He clutched it in his left hand. "Buy yourself a doughnut." He slid on his sneakers, sans socks, despite the windy wet weather he was advising her to avoid.
"No. I don't have any money on me. I can't buy anything."
"Don't worry. I'll pay for it when I get there. Just stay inside, or you're likely to catch a cold." He knew almost as soon as he'd said it that it was a ridiculous offer. Krispy Kreme wasn't a sit-down diner. Customers bought their doughnuts, and then sat, if they weren't racing off, eating them in transit to their final destinations. He also knew perfectly well that people didn't catch colds from standing out in a cold rain, but this old wive's tale was hard to shake and seemed appropriate for the moment.
"I've gotta go. I'll see you there. Thanks so much." And the dial tone buzzed in his ear.
Landon didn't exactly live next door to Krispy Kreme, but even after pulling on his shirt and sweater, lacing up his sneakers, running a comb through his hair, locating his wallet and car keys, and pulling on his rain jacket, he still had plenty of time to make it from The West End to Stratford Rd. before she said she'd be there. What the hell? He'd get there first, buy the doughnuts, and be waiting for her when she arrived.
During the drive and while sitting at the counter waiting for Julie, one eye on the doughnuts, the other searching the parking lot through the plate glass window, he had plenty of time for his imagination (which certainly didn't need any encouragement in this area) to run wild. He'd been working with Julie at the advertizing firm for over two years now. It was a family-run business with just over fifty employees, and everyone knew everyone. As far as he knew, no one harbored any anomosity toward her. She was extremely likeable, and her take on life seemed to be that it was fun, that nothing should be taken too seriously. This combined with a surly wit and the ability to charm people into her way of thinking without even realizing what she was doing made for a very pleasant -- at time, exciting even -- colleague.
However, she was just that: a colleague. He was beginning to realize that if asked about her in great detail, he wouldn't be able to provide many answers, nor would anyone else he knew. Julie loved to draw out others, but she was pretty tight-lipped when it came to her own life outside the office. Now that he was thinking about it, she could almost be described as the de facto staff therapist. She was a good listener. Others would go to her with their problems, Landon included, especially since Laura's departure. As far as he knew, though, she never seemed to seek this sort of service from anyone herself.
Yes, everyone knew she'd grown up in Winston-Salem. Her father had died of colon cancer when she was only ten. She'd graduated from Davidson College, had lived and worked in Charlotte how many years? At some point, her mother had been killed in a car accident, and she'd inherited the large house in the tony Buena Vista section of town. She'd moved back to town three years ago with her husband Joe to live in the house. Joe was a man no one at the company had ever met. "Illusive Joe" they all called him. He was always "going to come" to all the events: impromptu happy hours, birthday celebrations, holiday parties, company picnics...but he never actually did. Those who were inclined to create a nasty art form out of gossip referred to him as "Julie's Lord and Master."
Julie would often let slip that she'd love to join folks on a weekend trip up to Grandfather Mountain, or to spend a late night at the fair when it was in town, or to go see a movie with everyone, "but my husband probably wouldn't be interested, and he wouldn't want me to go without him." Other times it would be, "Let me just check with Joe and see if it's okay if I get home late this evening." She didn't seem to notice the odd looks she'd get from the other more "liberated" young women in the office. However, her charming nature helped protect her from true disdain. They were still drawn to her, still wanted to pal around with her, still took long Friday lunches with her on hot summer days.
(To be continued.)
posted by Emily Barton at 4:21 AM
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