An Excerpt from “Missed Connections”

I knew as she pulled up to the parking lot that the woman we had been sent there to meet was the crazy-looking one.  She stood there, next to the brand new Benz, applying the gaudiest shade of magenta lipstick I had ever seen.  Her blonde wig shifted position in the wind and she absentmindedly reached up and guided it back into place.

“That’s gotta be her.”  Phoebe sat in the driver’s seat of our car, chewing on a few strands of her hair—a bad habit she had somehow slipped back into in the twenty-three minutes we had been waiting for this lady.  I slapped her hand lightly.

“Stop doing that.”

“Sorry.”  She spat out the hair and continued talking.  “I mean, look at her.  She’s got on leopard print leggings.”

“So?”  I glanced over, noting that the woman was indeed wearing a skin-tight animal print.

“Well, didn’t you say she looked scary online?”  Phoebe gestured across the parking lot.  “Boom, scary in person.”

“I don’t remember saying scary necessarily…” my hands twisted in my lap as I trailed off, and I found myself wishing my words hadn’t been quite so harsh.  “And don’t point at her like that!  What if she sees us?”

“We’re trying to sell her a coffeepot.  Isn’t her seeing us kind of the point?”

We stared in silence as the woman we’d arranged to meet with snapped her compact shut and leaned against the Benz’s baby blue car door.  She pulled out a giant smartphone and poked the screen repeatedly, frowning at something as she pushed her opaque sunglasses up into the crown of the wig.

“Holy eye makeup,” Phoebe whispered, “I didn’t even know they made that many colors of eye-shadow.”

Her phone chirped forcefully from the center consul.  Phoebe grabbed it without taking her eyes off the woman, mesmerized by the multitude of colors adorning her face.  Nosy as I am, I found myself sneaking a peek at the name on her homescreen.

“It’s her!”  I grabbed the phone from Phoebe.  The woman’s name flashed again on the screen, the phone’s way of reminding us one final time that there was a message that had yet to be read.  “She says she’s here.”

“Well, looks like it’s your time to shine, Cam.”  Phoebe snatched her phone back and handed me our coffeemaker, all boxed up and ready for resale.  “Don’t forget to scold her for being so late in the first place.”

“Me?  Why am I talking to her?”

“What do you mean why?  I arranged the sale, so it only stands to reason that you’ll be the one to make the sale itself.  That’s the deal.”

“I don’t remember talking about that.”

“It’s implied,” Phoebe shrugged.  “Besides, you’re better with people than I am.”  I looked back over at the blonde-wig lady.

“I don’t think that’s true,” I protested.  “You’re plenty good with people.  And you arranged the sale so it only makes sense that you would be the one to finish it.”

“What, are you scared or something?”

“No—what?  Why would you even say that?”

“Oh, so you aren’t?”

“No.”  I clutched the coffeemaker tightly to my chest, my heart pounding suddenly.

“Good.  Get out of the car before she messages us again.”  Before I knew it, Phoebe had reached around me, pushed the car door open, and let me tumble out onto the asphalt.

The woman jumped away from her car door, startled at my sudden and powerful exit from my own vehicle.  Embarrassed, I pulled myself up to my feet and inspected the coffeepot box for damage.

“Well, that was quite an exit!”  Her voice was softer than I’d expected, and yet somehow echoed throughout the empty parking lot.  “You must be who I’ve been waiting for.”

“Yes, well, uh, if you’re going to be honest about who was really waiting, that would be us.  Because our original meeting time was, uh, about twentyish minutes ago.”  I shrugged awkwardly.  It wasn’t the most graceful of scoldings, but I could probably twist it in my favor when recanting it to Phoebe.

To my surprise, the woman laughed at my attempt.

“Fair enough, fair enough.  Well, I’m Neela, as you are probably aware, and you must be Phoebe?”

“Ah, actually I’m Cam.  But I represent Phoebe today.”

“Ah, I see.”  Her furrowed brow told me that she perhaps did not actually understand, but was willing to accept my identification if it led to the purchase of the coffeemaker I was still clutching.  I held it out for her to see.

“This is the coffeemaker.  I can show you how to use it if you want.  It’s very easy.”

“Oh, yes, that would be wonderful.  I am terrible with all of this nonsense, because I just moved back here from India.  It’s a wonderful place, so beautiful, but I didn’t bring my coffeepot back here with me.  I totally forgot.”  She smiled at my blank face as she continued.  “And now I wake up at my ex-husband’s house, and he doesn’t drink coffee because he’s so old much older than me, and I miss the coffee because it was part of my routine in India.”

“Oh,” I nodded, unsure of what other response would be appropriate and wishing she would be quiet so I could explain the coffeemaker.

“He’s my ex-husband, but we are on very good terms.  He just didn’t want to explore like I did, so that’s why I left and moved to India.  I wanted adventure and he just was getting too old.  But that’s how I know he’ll be fine with me putting a coffeemaker in his house, because we are just on such good terms.”  She smiled again and leaned in for a stage whisper.  “He’s really not all there sometimes anyways.”

“Right.  Well, like I said, I can show you how this works.”  I held out the box.

“Yes, yes, just put it here in the car.”  Neela stepped aside and opened her car door.  I placed the box on her driver’s seat, feeling uneasy about yielding possession of the coffeepot before she had given me the money.  It seemed to violate the rules of online selling, though every part of this interaction seemed to violate those unspoken rules.

“Okay, uh, well—like I said, it’s really easy to use—all you do is put the water here,” I gestured to the water tower.  “And then you make sure it’s plugged in, and push this button when it’s lit up.  Just remember to put the grounds in here first,” I opened the top of the machine and pointed at the empty space.  “And that’s it.  Pretty simple.”

“Great!  Looks easy enough.  Who knows, maybe even Greg—that’s my ex-husband—will get the hang of this.”

“Right.”  I wished she would quit talking and give me the money.  Each word she spoke just gave me another moment to plan my revenge on Phoebe.  She was definitely going to have to pay for this.

“Okay, so what was it we agreed on?  Sixty?”  She started digging around in her car, and I noticed the plastic mats from the car dealership were still attached to her floors.  No wonder it looked so new.

“Actually I think it was fifty.  Yeah, I think that’s what it was.”  Was it wrong to wish I had gone with her estimate and marked up the price a little more?  I wondered if I should have, thinking how proud Phoebe would have been if I’d come back with an extra ten for groceries.

Suddenly she jerked back from the car.  She looked at me, aghast, and I wondered if she’d seen the floor mats too, and mistaken her brightly colored reflection for a ghost.

“Oh, oh no.”  She brought both hands to her face and I worried her makeup would smear all over them.  I waited for her to elaborate, wondering what exactly was wrong.  I had a sinking feeling I knew what it was, but desperately hoped I was wrong.

“What is it?”

Neela looked at me, smiling still, like a child who’s done something they shouldn’t have but doesn’t believe they’ll be punished.

“I forgot my wallet.”