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Chapter 13. Abrupt Awakenings
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It’s far past 7:00 am when I wake up. I usually set my alarm clock so I can get up early, but I forgot last night. Catalina is still lying in my arms, her hands placed on my back. I try to move away without waking her up, but she’s holding on too tight.
I kiss her slowly; hopefully that will wake her up. She doesn’t move at once, but then she answers my kiss, opening her eyes. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I reply. “I have to go.” She releases her arms around me and I sit up, looking for my clothes. Catalina gathers the cover around herself, also sitting up.
“When do we have to leave?”
“Go back to sleep, you don’t have to get up,” I explain. “I’m going to go save MacCallister from Robert, and then we have a press conference later. I’ll order up some breakfast for you.”
Catalina puts her hand on my shoulder. “I didn’t know that. If you show up late, it’s gonna be my fault. You needed to sleep last night.”
“No, of course not,” I smile, kissing her. “Trust me; last night was just what I needed. We needed it; we haven’t really spent a lot of nights together lately.”
She shakes her head. “No, we haven’t. Thank you, Fred.”
“For what?”
“For last night. It meant a lot to me, all of it.” She smiles at me, making me feel a lot better. Yeah, it was special last night. We haven’t talked like that since I started to work for MC. The time I spent with her was consumed in the best possible way.
Before I leave, I call down to the reception and order Catalina the breakfast I promised. Unfortunately, my good mood doesn’t last long. Just like yesterday, Robert’s waiting outside my door when I come out. He’s smirking, so I immediately ignore him and walk quickly over to the elevator. “They’re looking for you,” Robert announces, following me as usual. It’s starting to get on my Goddamn nerves.
“Who is?”
“The Belmont people. They seem to think that the entire world revolves around you and what you have to say.”
“It’s a joy,” I mutter sarcastically. Maybe I can convince the whole lot to throw themselves off the roof? I am good at convincing people. “Why are you here? Did the seduction not work out the way you planned?”
Robert Clairmont sneers at me, reminding a bit of a snake. I can’t stand him. I hate him. He’s obnoxious and disgusting. I hate him. “Cathy’s a catch, but she’s all yours. I’m not into jail-bait.”
“That’s fresh coming from you,” I snort loudly. “You must’ve broken several laws just by looking at that other girl you were last with.”
“Nina?” he says.
“No, the girl you deceived by pretending you had my job. What was she? Junior or senior?”
“She was in college,” Robert mutters.
“Skipped ahead a year, huh?”
The circle of crap isn’t complete until Cathy shows up, joining us to the conference room. There are already a bunch of reporters waiting outside in the lobby, and they all fire questions at us – mostly me – without caring that we glare at them without answering. “My dad told me that CNN is here!” Cathy explains happily, fixing her hair yet again.
“I’m sure they’ll ask extensive questions about your hair products,” I say. “How many times do you repeat after rinsing?”
“My, aren’t you being feisty today?” Robert commented. “You usually don’t say more than two words unless you really have to. Don’t tell me, you got laid, didn’t you?”
I don’t bother snarling at him. What’s the point? He’ll find something else to mock me about anyway.
We’re waiting in the small room behind the press conference room while the reporters and journalists gather up outside. Cathy seems more nervous than usual, because she can’t stop twirling her hair between her fingers. Robert is staring at her while she’s doing this routine. Yes, he’s so not attracted to her at all. Please, the guy would hump the coffee table if it had breasts.
I’m reminded by what Catalina said last night. About Cathy and if she’s made of plastic. I look at her. Her hair is blonde, but not unnaturally blonde. I can’t tell if it’s real or not. Maybe she dyes it but her hairdresser is really good at not making it show? Cathy’s face, though… Her lips are very pouty. But she’s a young girl. Young girls have pouty lips. I think. No, that conclusion doesn’t add up. Catalina’s lips aren’t pouty and she’s young.
Robert notices that I’m staring at Cathy for a long time, and of course I’m not allowed to get away with it. “What’re you looking at?” he grins.
“I was just thinking about Cathy,” I say without consideration. Catalina’s told me several times not to speak before I think. I get her point now, because I’ve made both Cathy and Robert delighted.
“You were?” Cathy giggles. “About what?”
“I was just thinking if your lips are real.”
“What else would they be?” she asks, confused. Then it dawns on her. “Oh.”
Now I’ve insulted her. The day seems to be getting better by the second. “Is that your actual nose?” I continue, motioning at her face. She puts her hand over her nose to cover it, while giving up a discontent squeal. “I was only wondering, because most people who are as good-looking as you aren’t for real.”
Cathy is torn between being flattered for me calling her good-looking and being annoyed over the insult. She decides that I’m being nice and sweet. “Thank you, Fred.”
“So, are you?” Clairmont has to add.
“Of course it’s all real,” Cathy beams. “My mom and grandmother are just as beautiful as I am.” Her confidence is back.
Luckily, Robert doesn’t have time to comment on me staring at Cathy and her plastic package because we’re told to go out into the other room. I was merely glancing at her chest out of factual purposes, no matter what he might think.
The press conference is boring and stressful, as always. First they’re announcing the take-over and make the official speech. I’m not included in that part, and start dozing off when the eighth paragraph of the speech is told. Who cares about the profits of year 2014? I don’t.
My hand starts its involuntarily – but regular – shaking. It’s the last thing I need right now. I didn’t bring any Prozac to the meeting. I didn’t think I’d need it.
Cathy leans closer, putting her hand on top of mine. “Are you alright, honey?” Oh, fuck off already.
“I’m fine,” I grumble, jerking my hand away from the table so fast that I accidentally shove down all Robert Clairmont’s folders and papers onto the floor. The situation gets a bit disoriented when all of the press people turn their attention towards our corner of the table. I mumble out an apology, while gathering some papers from my lap.
It’s terribly hot in the room. I want to wipe some sweat out of my face but decide against it. Cathy’s inevitable chatter would never stop if she saw me doing that. She needs to get a life. My fingers stick together when I try pressing them against each other. The air is damp. Suddenly I’m hit by an anxious feeling. My heart pounds faster, like it’s nervously trying to keep up the pace with my panic.
I need to get out. I need to be outside this crowded room. I’ve never been claustrophobic before, but I’m feeling a case of it coming on right now. There are too many people around. They’re talking too much. At the same time as someone else. Why can’t they let each other finish before they speak?
My shirt collar is too tight. Why do I feel like this? It was alright earlier. It’s too hot. I can’t take it.
“Fred?” someone says. Somewhere next to me. I can’t tell where it’s coming from or who said it. I don’t know where I am.
No, right. I’m at the press conference. I turn my head up and see that everybody’s watching me. “I’m sorry, what was the question?” I ask politely.
“How do you feel about the rumors about your father’s plans to make this Belmont take-over a new Heistman scandal?” one of the reports asks. She’s wearing a bright blue pant suit and her hair is red and curly. She’s pretty.
“No comment,” I blurt out. “Rumors are rumors and usually taken out of context.”
“Is it based on a true-”
Story? Based on a true story. My life is based on a true story.
“-allegation,” she ends it.
My entire life is an allegation. A-l-l-e-g-a-t-i-o-n. Legalization. L-e-g-a-l-i-z-a-t-i-o-n.
“No,” Cathy says, interrupting my inner spelling bee contest.
“No what?” I reply, perplexed.
“Fred, are you alright?” she whispers back.
“Yes.”
The questions are getting more difficult. D-i-f-f-i-c-u-l-t. They ask about my brother. The one who got arrested for possession. I say ‘no comment’ to that, too. Sheesh, they act like they’ve never done drugs before. I’m sure they’re all caring drugs with them at this very moment. How else are they able to survive this dull meeting, huh?
Personal questions are my pet peeve. My wife is the only one allowed to ask me personal questions. I automatically say ‘no comment’ to all the questions I get, even the relevant ones. They’re looking at me weirdly. What? What did I do this time?
It’s unbearable. I want to leave. I blink a few times to get my eyes to focus. It’s no use. It’s all blurry. I need my medicine. Maybe I can tell Gale to go get it for me? No, I gave her the week off. I forgot.
I almost think I’m hallucinating when I spot Catalina over by the door at the back of the room. She’s also wearing a suit. It’s black. She’s wearing a white shirt underneath. Maybe I’m seeing things? Maybe I’m going crazy.
No, she’s there. I can see her clearly. She looks so beautiful. Why’s she here? It can’t be for my sake, can it?
It might just be. She loves me.
“It’s really warm in here,” I say to Cathy MacCallister. She’s beginning to seem worried that I might do something stupid.
“I’ll tell them to open a window,” she mumbles, sounding more professional now than before. Her dad is present. That might be why. Can’t look like a skank in front of her father.
“Mr. Ahlgren?”
I snap out of my daze.
“Yes?”
“How do you feel-?”
Why do they keep asking me how I feel? Can’t they all just leave? I can’t stand it. I don’t want to be here.
“What?” I ask.
“Is it true that you and your wife are separating?”
“No,” I mumble.
“Will she attend the dinner on Wednesday?”
“I guess.”
“You guess what?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake! “Yeah, she’ll be there.”
“Will you be bringing her there?”
Who else would I be bringing, you stupid idiot? “Of course. Everything else you’ve heard is untrue.”
“There’s a rumor going around,” someone from the other side of room announces. I hate rumors. I hate this. I want to leave. “-saying that your wife is-”
“It’s not true,” I cut him off.
“We have reason to believe that your wife is expecting your second child, do you have any comment to that?”
Dad always told me that I cannot use bad language when I deal with the press. I did once when someone asked me if Catalina hadn’t survived that complicated operation. I think I said ‘fuck off, of course she’s alive’. It didn’t matter. But it’s a no-no.
Am I pretending to hear this? It doesn’t seem real. Why would they ask me something so surreal when they know…? When they know…
I look up and for a second I meet Catalina’s eyes. She’s devastated, obviously taking this comment very personal. After what we discussed last night I’m amazed she’s not leaving the room. Her eyes fill with tears and I desperately want to leave so I can go over to her and tell her that it’s okay. That she shouldn’t listen to them. They don’t know. They don’t know anything.
My throat is dry. I lean towards the glass of water placed in front of me. The effort is too much. I can’t get a grip of the glass. My hand is shaking too much. I spill most of it over Cathy’s notepad. The room starts spinning. I have to leave.
In a daze, I think I can hear Catalina’s voice somewhere nearby. “Let me through,” she says. “Fred? Fred?”
She repeats my name over and over again. No, it’s an echo. I’m only hallucinating. I can’t hear her. I can’t see her. Where is she?
The room disappears. The floor disappears, too, under me. I might be falling. The floor is eating me. Making me disappear.
The last thing I’m aware of is Catalina’s voice. She’s calling out my name.
It all goes black after that.