The Opposite of Opposites Attract

 “I can’t believe the luck I’ve been having today,” I say into my cellphone; My friend, Andrea, is on the other end, listening fervently to every word I say. “First, I got hit by the mail-woman...What?...Andy, I know that’s not politically correct; But who cares? I am how I am, you know that. So, anyways, she doesn’t see me pulling out of my driveway...” I pause, as Andrea interrupts.

"Did you look both ways?"

“Yes, both ways. She was parked at my mailbox and remained so, as I started pulling into the street. The old busybody across the street yells her name and she looks over there. She starts waving and then talking to the old crone.”

“You shouldn't call your neighbor an old busybody or an old crone; That’s just rude, even if it's true,” We both crack up at that.

“Okay, enough about the old crone,” Andrea sniggers at that, “The mail-woman, finally sees me, and instead of hitting the brakes; She freaks and slams the gas pedal to the floorboard.”

“Oh My Gosh, she didn’t?”

“I wish, but sure as you’re NOT a natural brunette, my car has a scrunched up eyeball!”

“Did you call the cops? I woulda called the cops!”

“Before you get your ball bat out, Slugger, calm down. I got it took care of.”

“Took? Can’t you talk like a regular person? You sound all Hillbilly when you talk like that!”

“Do you need refresher on what I said moments ago? Besides, I am a Hillbilly; Tennessee raised, though not bred.” I made my voice sound very posh, “So sue me, if I sound a bit unkempt.” Andrea cracked up and I had to wait for her laughter to subside before I could continue my story.

“What were we talking about?”

“The old crone causing you to get hit,” It was my turn to guffaw.

“Yeah, Nellie can’t see on the right side, now, but that’s not the good news,” I paused for dramatic effect, to which Andrea urges me to continue, “I...me, Loranne, am "THE"...owner...of...a...brand-spanking new, Chevy Impala,” I gush the last three words out very fast.

“Really?”

“Even though my car was about 30 years old, and about worn to the ground, the postal service gave it to me, either, as a settlement or a bribe not to sue them.”

“Whoohoo,” Andrea muttered, with lackluster enthusiasm, “I thought you were going to say a Beamer.” I harrumphed; Andrea laughed, “I think it’s cool, Chicka. When're we going to take it to the beach? We can cruise down the road in style and ogle all the cute guys.”

“Not until after the vacation.”

“Huh? Where you going,” I could hear the pout, even without seeing her.

“I’ll get to that, after I tell you my second round of good luck, today. I won a free makeover, from House of Harry.”

“Dang, Girl, I'm so jealous right now. Harry’s only the best celebrity hair stylist in the West Coast. How did you win a makeover from him?”

“You know the spread they did in “Celebrity Humanitarians” last month?...Yeah, the article titled ‘Anyone Can Look Like A Movie Star’. I sent a very long letter telling them that was highly implausible; Then, proceeded to tell them, most of the celebrities look like ageless mannequins due to plastic surgeons, not make-up artists. I guess I won due to me irking them.”

“So, you’re going someplace with a new face and a new car?”

“Uhmm, also, an expensive trousseau and...” My ear nearly burst, by Andrea screaming, the word ‘what’, into it. “What do you mean what?”

“You’re getting married and I’m not even invited???”

“Calm down, I’m not done yet.” I quit speaking, as she raves on, and hang up. It only takes her one second to hit speed dial. I pick up and say, “Is your tantrum over?”

“Only if I'm invited,” I can tell she has me on speaker and her arms are crossed.

“Don’t worry, Shuges, you will like what I have to say; Trust me.”

“Uh huh, I’ll be the judge of that!”

“Okay, the trousseau I won from a contest, in the “Brides of the World” online magazine. They had a mannequin, with a plethora of veils on, and I had to guess how many she had on. It was 55 and I guessed it. I, then won $5,000 in the lottery and it'll be given in a few days; That’s after taxes were taken out, it was more like 50,000, before that.”

“Dang and since you can’t see me, my fingers are playing the world’s smallest violin, playing “My Heart Bleeds For You!”

“If you don’t cut the crap, right now, Andreanna Diana, I’m hanging up on you, never to call again, AND won’t be taking you on my vacation!”

“What? Uh...I...WHAT? Vacation? When,” She stammered in questioning reply, rather speechless, as I knew she would be.

“You, Everett, and I will be leaving in one week for a six-month stay, now get this, at the Grand Cayman Islands Bridal Resort.” I started laughing, as Andrea squealed and I heard her shoes tapping a staccato on her flooring, so I knew she was doing her best impression, of Alex, in “Flashdance”.

“I LOVE YOU!!! I LOVE YOU!!! I LOOOOVE YOU!!!”

“Okay, Flashy,” I call her the childhood name I gave her when I was twelve and she were ten, when I saw her victory dance for the first time. “Get your affairs in order, so we can be ready to leave, when Everett gets here, in a few days. However, before then, you and I need to go shopping and get some beach gear.” I laughed, as I heard Andrea fumble her keys and phone, as she was trying to grab her purse, and talk to me, at the same time.

“I’ll be there in a few, so be ready when I pull up.”

Andrea pulls up 15 minutes later; However, she lives thirty minutes away, so I knew she had to break some speed laws and, maybe, some other traffic laws, in order to get here so quickly. I open the passenger-side door and slide into the seat. As, I shut the door, the seat belt, which is connected to the door, automatically closes and nearly pins my head to the bucket seat.

What can I expect, with being 5’ 3” tall? I would have placed the top of the seat belt behind my back. Alas, that’s frowned upon, by the police, and can garner a ticket, as fast as not wearing any seat belt at all. I reach into my over-sized purse and extract a padded thing that I created, which holds the two parts of the seat belt together, and placed it where it needed to be.

“You know,” Andrea started saying, as she was pulling back into the flow, of traffic, “You could’ve just bought one of those things and not have had to make one.”

“Yeah, I know,” I replied, as I adjusted the sun visor, to shield my eyes from the glaring sun, “But, this way, I can have it the way I want and not feel pressured into buying one I didn’t, just because there were none that I liked available.”

Andrea fiddled with the radio dial and sighed in happiness, as a Disco tune came on. I would have liked 80’s rock better, but when in Rome, you do as the Romans do, ergo, I sang right along, with the Bee Gees, Olivia and John, and several other Disco oldies. Soon, we were parked at Walmart, the place, I adamantly told Andrea, that I wanted to go to. She acquiesced and I told her that we will go to whichever department store that she wanted to, right after we were done here.

Inside the store, we were greeted with pandemonium, as two cops chased a kid, of 15, up and down aisles. I motioned for Andrea to hang back, as I stepped in front of the kid, as he made to dart out the entrance. I grabbed him by the back of his pants, as he tried to side-step me. Andrea cautioned me that he had something that looked like a knife, so I grabbed his wrist with the other hand; But, the only thing he had was a comb that looked like a switchblade, much like the one I had at home.

“That would be a huge mistake for you to act like you have a knife, in front of the cops. If you give me the thing, then I won’t say a word about it.”

At first, I think he thought about refusing, but then he handed it over. I, then, handed him over to the first cop that finally caught up, very winded from all the running that his out-of-shape body had to do. The thought ‘Don’t they screen these guys anymore?’ popped into my head, but I give no indication of what went on inside it, as the cop took a last, deep, gulp, of air, and pulled a pair of handcuffs, from a leather pouch, on his belt. He thanked me and, then, radioed for his partner that he had the suspect in custody. I palm the comb off to the second cop, mouth 'his', while the cop clicks it open, and nods once at me.

After the trio leaves, Andrea and I continued on to swimwear. She tried to get me to try some on, but I refuse to try on anything, without washing it first. I opted for a red one-piece that had three heart cut-outs on either side, a very low-cut back, which didn’t even cover the tattoo that I had, of a sleeping bear. I learned, after I had gotten the tattoo, that tattoos in those locations are called tramp stamps. One guy, in high school, thought I was going to be easy, because of it, but he found out his nose was the only thing easy. It broke with only one well-placed sucker punch.

I purchased everything I needed for the beach, including, towel, sandals, suntan lotion, and sunblock, then, I turned to Andrea, asking her where she would like to go. We went to Rue21, but found they had closed the store, for good, and we felt a keen sense of loss. Rue had been one of our favorite boutiques. I decided we needed a bit of exercise, so off across the parking lot, of the shopping duplex, we hiked. I'd always thought Belk's was a bit out of my price range, but we were in a bit of a bind; We needed to be ready to leave for the airport in an hour.

I splurged on us both and got her a black and silver bikini, with a light gray over dress. I found a white, lacy cover-up, which had varying sizes of hearts, with red outlining them, and a faux-straw hat. I, also, bought some designer shades and a beach bag, by the same designer, as the shades, and into it, I tossed in five romances. Then, it was back to the house, with our purchases, so that we could get packed our luggage ready to go. I stopped, at a pharmacy, on the way home, and got some airsickness pills, since I had never been on an airplane. Sure, I was on a helicopter, once, but a 15 minute tour, is nothing like being in the air several thousands feet off the ground.

At the airport, a week later, we were getting ready to taxi down the runway. I was in a snit, because my so-called fiancée bailed on me at the last minute; and told me, via his mother, that he’s not ready to get married. The little creep, I fumed, as the tires rushed down the tarmac, he wasn’t even man enough to tell me to my face, he had to have his mother tell me! She didn’t even have the decency to look chagrined about it, but to her credit, though, she never lorded it over me. I am a bit surprised that she hadn’t taken the low road and been all smug about it, since she never liked me to begin with.

Andrea placed her hand atop mine, which gripped my armrest, between us. I had given her the aisle seat, so that I could gaze out the window. It was amazing how tiny the cars and people seemed from this altitude, with the cars appearing to be Hot-wheel cars. Andrea saying my name again, brought me out of my reverie.

“What was that?”

“I said: “Don’t worry about it, Hon.” She halted, when I sighed, then said, “At least he dropped the bomb before you walked down the aisle.”

“Yeah, I guess...”

“I know what, how about you get out a couple of those books you brought with you? I think we both can do with a little romance, with a tall, dark, and mysterious stranger,” She waggled her eyebrows, making me laugh.

I reached into the beach bag, which I tagged, as a carry-on, before boarding. I noticed the one I handed her was “Rider of the Knight” and she mouthed ‘Kinky’, making me chuckle. I, then took out mine, which turned out to be ‘Crazy For The Wedding’; I groaned and rubbed my aching forehead. How had that gotten in with the books I had bought? I took out the remaining books, and found that there was only one other, which I had accidentally bought. The name of it was ‘The Lies of Paradise’.

Had I subconsciously known what was to happen today? Could that be why I don’t feel worse than I do about it?

I decided to rest and before I knew it, the plane was alighting on port city, where we were to board our sea plane. Watching the plane landing, on the water, brought back to mind, a TV show that I watched when I was younger. The title was ‘Tales of the Golden Monkey’, one that I dearly loved and missed.

A strapping, young pilot gave us a hand, as we were helped from the small boat, which had taken us out to meet the plane, and right away, Andrea’s Cougar Antenna homed in on his signal. She flirted her way to the co-pilot seat, which no one utilized. I resumed the perusal, of the inside of my eyelids, and dreamed of sandy beaches, where an absentee fiancée awaited me.

I was jolted awake, by Andrea nudging me with her hand poking at my arm, while she loudly spoke my name. She told me to get a move on, that our ride, to the hotel, wouldn’t wait for ever. We finally, made it to the hotel, and ran into a spot of trouble. It seemed that the hotel had, also, promised the room to another couple, and the man from that wedding party was, at this very moment, probably sleeping in the bed, which was supposed to be mine for a the next 6 months.

Grrrrrrr!!!!!!

I told the chagrined manager that I would take care of the matter and I rode the elevator to the 5th floor, where I arrived without Andrea, due to her being taken to her own room, on the floor below, used my key-card and entered MY hotel room.

As, I walked through the suite, into the bedroom, I noticed a few pieces of luggage, already in the room. I dropped mine on the floor, kicked my shoes off, dis-robed, and walked into the bathroom, for a shower. As I was pulling the cloth portion, of the shower curtain open, I realized water was spraying into the tub. I was about to turn loose, when the fabric was yanked from my hand and a sopping wet, naked man stepped out of the tub, and nearly collided with me.

“Oh, I didn’t know Room Service offered anything, other than food,” The man leered, reaching for my, equally, naked form.

“You touch me and I will brain you, with...” I did a quick search, but the only thing on hand was a towel, draped over a metal bar, which I, at the moment, wished I could rip from the wall. “If you touch me, I’ll scream!”

“Alrighty, then. You must be the other half, of the other party, which rented the room. I’m glad I decided to share,” He, then, leered more openly at me making my skin crawl.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to take a shower!”

“Be my guest,” He grabbed my hand, as if to help me enter the tub, but his real intent was to place his other on my derriere. I swatted his hand away and pushed him out of the bathroom, then slammed the door in his face.

“Be my guest...Humph! The nerve of the man, assuming that he can man handle me!”

My temperature was about as hot as the water that sprayed me. I was so angry that I couldn’t even enjoy the shower, as I had planned, so I made quick work of it and walked into the bedroom, without realizing I hadn’t gotten the towel to wrap around myself.

“Now, that is how a lady should enter a room,” He gave a low, wolf-whistle, as his eyes languidly slid over me.

I frowned at him, grab my beach bag, re-entered the bathroom, and donned my bathing suit. I’ve read romances where women met their soul mates this way, but I see this as nothing more than a nightmare. The man was uncouth, vulgar, and lacked any kind of decency. I doubted I could last a whole week with him, let alone a half a year; I groaned inwardly, as I walked past him and out of the suite.

Please, Lord, give me strength not to strangle this man!