Chapter 7: Brittany

The wine, it must be the wine that’s making me feel so crazy. Shaking the eerie feeling from the mosaic, I got out of the bath and quickly toweled off. I began to apply lotion to my legs and my mind wandered back to Alex. Does he even think of me? All those years just tossed away…and now I’m the one alone. Should I even bother with appearances anymore? I have no one to impress anymore but myself. But I guess I would be horrified to let myself go like some women do during the crisis of heartbreak. Cosmo says maintaining a routine beauty regime always makes a girl feel better. Deciding to end my inner pity party, I finished applying the lotion. Padding my way down the hall to my fabulous medieval bedroom I retrieved my Marc Jacobs sweater dress and heels. TruPaul said I needed to start taking action to wake up; maybe I should go try and talk to Alex right now.

It was late, but I was already dressed and too restless to sleep. Despite the wine and against my better judgment, I felt okay to get into my Audi with the intention to drive into town. Sliding into the leather seat I felt the pounding of wine through my veins. Liquid courage always helps, right? Sitting for a few moments to collect what I wanted to ask Alex once I saw him, it hit me. What am I DOING? I’m sitting in my car, tipsy; about to try and talk to the one man I thought I would spend forever with—a man who cheated on me!? I’ll be damned before he sees me this classless! I cannot just show up on his doorstep without speaking for almost five months. If I want answers I need to show up looking really well, and sober. The only solace I can find right now is that when I do speak with Alex, it will be HIM thinking it’s his loss, not me! Climbing out of the car I walked back into the monastery and into my bedroom. Settling into the goose down feather mattress I started to drift off. After all, preparing for the ultimate emotional battle would require a lot beauty sleep.

In the morning I was on a mission. I hurriedly washed and set my hair in curlers, and carefully selected an outfit from a closet I had discovered was fit for my inner starlet. In the end of the what-to-wear-process, labels were strewn across the bedroom like the snow on my front lawn. Christmas was getting closer, and so were the bad memories. Fortunately, my dream closet didn’t have a stitch inside of it that reminded me of Alex and all the heels were completely drool worthy. It was hard deciding what to wear when I was planning on seeing him. I felt that the low Chanel dress and Oscar de la Renta heels screamed you-never-should-have-left-me-for-that-fat-woman. In fact, the combination had me smiling although I had a slight headache from the night before. Alex would never be allowed to see the chinks in my armor like he had once. Clicking down the hall, I had no desire for breakfast. Probably my nerves, this almost feels like a blind date. I’m absolutely dreading it.

Lost in thought, TruPaul startled me, “Stop right there, honey!”

Slowly, I turned around from the front door. TruPaul’s presence no longer felt as alarming as it had the night before. Maybe those omelets had drugs in them. There wasn’t enough time to question my dream guide right now though. Alex was at the top of my interrogation list. “Yes, TruPaul?”

“As your dream guide, I would suggest you only try to find the answers needed to wake up,” he cocked his right eyebrow up. “That also means that you cannot expect to get direct answers from the sources you ask. The answers you’re looking for you already know—you just need someone to help you realize what they are, and what they mean for you and G.M.”

The information sunk in at a snail’s crawl. “Wait… so I can’t just ask Alex why he cheated on me or anything about G.M?”

TruPaul set his golden eyed gaze on me and exhaled. “Babycakes, this is a dream. If anything were directly answered for you then it would contradict what a dream consists of entirely. Now get on with it! The sooner you wake up, the less painful that crick in your neck will be!”

With those final words of advice I walked out the door without asking any more questions. TruPaul said I couldn’t get any direct answers but maybe I could “overhear” some. I used to spy on my parents all the time when I was in high school. Especially because I was always in trouble for one thing or the other, especially my “abnormalities” as Mother would call it. Her and my father had countless arguments over whose fault it was for my behavior and personality.

“Jean, he is YOUR son, do something about this ridiculous obsession with clothes. Phil should be playing sports, not out shopping. Something’s wrong with the boy.”

“Don’t you dare try to blame me for this Anthony! He is as much my son as yours! I don’t know where he got his tastes. I don’t know how to make him stop…”

“Jean, for God’s sake, the principle called about what he wore to school today! He said it was completely inappropriate and against dress policy. Aren’t you the one who oversees our kids before they get onto the bus? And you let him out in THAT?”

“What he was wearing wasn’t inappropriate…”

“Yes, Jean, not inappropriate for a GIRL. BOYS DON’T WEAR DRESSES.”

“…what did you expect me to do? Rip the clothes from his body? As abnormal as it is, and as embarrassing as we think it is. He told me he FEELS like a girl, not a boy. Even since he was little.”

“Jean, something has to be done about this. I’m not dealing with… with that THING for a son.”

“Anthony, you don’t mean that! I’m doing the best I can! I do all the work around the house, make sure all your damn clothes are clean and you just come home and lounge! I CAN’T DO THIS ALL ON MY OWN ALL THE TIME DAMMIT. You have to help me!”

“I am helping you, by telling YOU to talk to him and put an absolute END to shaming of this family. He looks ridiculous and he needs to learn to be normal like everyone else!”

I would sit on the stairs, out of sight, and listen to the whole rant of both parties without being sighted. I honed my spying skills as well as my sneaking out skills. With parents who never accepted me for me, I was always looking for an escape. Driving into town I thought of the ways I could use those skills now to find out what I wanted to know. My train of thoughts kept getting stuck on Alex the whole drive.

I could just stake out around my house. I mean, Alex’s house. Dammit. Will I ever get used to the past tense? Anyways, I could stake out and watch him and Penelope. That way I can learn more about why he left me for HER, and what it all has to do with G.M. Mostly, because I want to see if Penelope is even his real fiancé or what. Maybe if she isn’t I could win Alex back…but do I want that? He devastated my entire heart! I wanted his baby. I wanted our baby. He gave all of our love up for some floozy that he barely knew. Cheating or no cheating, he could’ve been honest with me. That witch must’ve tempted him. Tricked him into something. All of this is her fault. I would be living my dream life right now if it hadn’t been because of that damn harlot! I bet it isn’t even his baby…but he would have to have some reason to think it was his, wouldn’t he? God…I’m going crazy thinking about them together. It should be me…it should be ME. So I’m going to make sure it is! Alex was wrong about us; maybe after I figure out what Penelope is up to when Alex is not around I can make him realize how wrong he was. I’ll just watch him and the witch for a while…maybe this can work out for me and for the company.

As I pulled onto Luna Avenue I kept my anticipation to myself and drove by to see if anyone was home. The house looked empty, so neither of them must’ve been back from work yet. I probably need to rent a car and maybe pretend to be Phil so no one recognizes me…no one that matters. Penelope had only met Stella, I wonder if Phil could get close to her. Maybe I could get answers that way. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.