Confessions of an Alli Cat

“Were you attacked?” I ask as I step inside.  Alli looks like she wants to either hit me or curl up in a corner.  I can’t tell which.

She shakes her head.  “No.”  And then she sighs.

“Are you alright?” I ask, examining her again.  She’s got bruising along her cheekbones.  “Did someone hurt you?”

She flushes, or at least, I think she flushes.  It’s hard to tell from behind the mask.

This is a side to Alli that I haven’t seen yet.  Usually, she is fierce and strong—a true dynamo.  To be honest, when I first met her, I was a little intimidated.  The woman certainly has game.  And she’s beautiful, which makes her a force to be reckoned with.

And by now, I’m seeing that nothing else appears to be wrong with her.  No other marks on her other than her face.

And she’s shaking her head.

“No, no one hurt me.  Except for a doctor. But I paid him to because I’m an idiot.”

I raise an eyebrow because now I’m confused.

“What?”

She is sighing again and she looks embarrassed. Or she appears to be, from behind her ice mask.  I stare at her, waiting for her to explain.

She lifts a slender shoulder, shrugging.

“I had Botox.  And then I had a bad reaction to the Botox.”

I can’t help it.  I laugh.

And even the indignant and embarrassed expression on Alli’s normally lovely face doesn’t keep me from laughing harder and harder.  I literally have tears pouring down my cheeks before I am finally able to control myself.

“I’m glad I can amuse you,” Allis says.  From what I can tell, her cheekbones are blushing even more now.  Her very swollen cheekbones.

I swallow what is left of my amusement.

“Are you in pain?” I ask.  She shakes her head.

“No.  I just look like hell.  Won’t you come in?” She gestures with her arm and I step further into her house.

Her home is beautiful, exactly like I expected.  Expensive furnishings, tasteful art, a lot of natural light and modern conveniences.  She leads me to the kitchen, where she digs through her bag.

“You didn’t need Botox,” I tell her stiff spine. I clearly put her on the defensive by laughing and I didn’t mean to. “You look great.  I’m sorry for laughing. I was laughing because the idea that you would do that when you look great already just shocked me.”

And her spine loosens.

Sometimes, I guess I can pull it out and say something tactful.  I’ve learned something in forty years, apparently.

She turns, a small smile on her lips.

“Thank you,” she says graciously, handing me the file.  “And I don’t blame you for laughing.  My best friend laughed too.”

“Nice best friend,” I answer.  Alli smiles again.

“Well, to be fair, I talked her into having it done with me and so she thought it was fitting.  Karma and all.  But she’s talked me into a hundred different things…all of them worse than this, I can assure you.”

I stare at her.  “Worse than Botox?” I am doubtful.

She nods. “Oh, yes.  Far worse.  But they’re a little inappropriate to discuss with my boss.”

And now I’m intrigued.  But obviously, I can’t ask.  She’s already standing in front of me in a night-shirt. To talk about inappropriate things at the same time would be over-the-line, probably.

Particularly since I’m attracted to her.  I’d admitted that to myself the first time we’d met. After I got over being intimidated, that is.  Hey, she’s a gorgeous, smart woman and I’m a red-blooded male.  It’s only normal.

I take a step toward her.

“What did they tell you to do for it?  When do you think the swelling will go down?”

“I’m taking ibuprofen and using an ice pack,” she says, tugging the mask down a little.  I think on that.

“Shouldn’t you be using an antihistamine cream?  My sister gets hives sometimes and she uses a cream to take down the swelling.  Do you have any?”

“Ooh- that’s a great idea!” Alli exclaims, turning around immediately. “I keep some on hand for my daughter, Sophie. She actually gets hives sometimes, too!  Thank you for reminding me!” she calls over her shoulder as she starts down a hallway.  “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time!” I answer.

I sit down at a breakfast bar stool and wait, looking around as I do.  Stainless steel appliances, granite counters, spotless surroundings.  I’m not sure if she actually uses her kitchen, but it sure is nice.  A plate of fresh lemons and limes sit next to me.  Among the various art hanging on the wall, there is a picture of a smiling teenage girl. Hazel eyes, gorgeous smile, dark hair.  The girl looks just like Alli- it has to be her daughter.

As I’m looking at it, my phone rings.

I glance at it.  My son’s number flashes on the screen.

I sigh and pick it up.

“Hey, Colby.”

“Hi dad,” my son answers coolly.  “I got your message.  I don’t really want to do an internship at your new job.  I’ve told you this a hundred times before.”

“Really?” I answer, as patiently as I can.  “What else are you going to do?  You’ve got a college degree.  You’ve got to figure things out and decide what you’re going to do. You’re twenty-three years old.”

“So you’ve said…many times before,” Colby answers.  I fight really hard to bite out a sarcastic come-back.  My son is head-strong, a trait that he might get from me.  Or he definitely does, according to my ex-wife.

“Look, you can start on Monday. The pay is decent and you’ll get your foot in the door of a really great company to work for.  You are a creative person and I think you’ll see that marketing is a great fit for your imaginative mind.  Come to Zellers’ headquarters on Monday and ask for Allison Lancaster at the front desk.  She’s the executive director in charge of marketing.  She reports to me and I think you’ll like her.”

Colby is silent for a second before he responds.

“Allison Lancaster, huh?  Okay. I’ll ask for her on Monday and I’ll give it a shot.  You obviously feel strongly about it.”