Helping Karma

Helping Karma

a novel

Karen Jerabek

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 by Karen Jerabek

All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.

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Authors’ Note: This is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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For Kate and Lily,

my heart, my joy, my loves

Helping Karma

Chapter 1

I must be having an out of body experience. My hands are freezing cold. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion. I sit at my desk, unable to focus. My thoughts are foggy and I have to remind myself to breathe. Instinct sets in. I pick up the phone, and dial a number. I’m not sure who will answer. I just know it’s the one number that I can remember at this moment.

Hello, says a friendly voice.

Hello? I ask, not quite sure who I’m talking to.

Meg, is that you? Honey, what’s wrong?

Kate?

Yes, Meg. It’s me. What’s wrong? she asks. Her voice is growing more alarmed, but that’s not really registering with me right now.

Oh Kate, it’s over.

What happened? Kate whispers.

I haven’t fully processed it yet, I sigh. I really need one of our weekends. Can you call the other girls and see if they can come over later?

Of course I will. I’ll come over as soon as I can get out of here.

Okay, I say and pause, lost in my own thoughts or non-thoughts as they might be.

Meg, Kate says gently. You’re going to be okay. Everything will be okay.

Maybe, I mutter.

You need to go home. Go tell your boss that you’re sick and need to leave.

You’re probably right. I really don’t need to be here when this starts to sink in.

After I hang up the phone, I sit there frozen for what seems to be an eternity but it’s really only about five minutes. I need to pull myself together just long enough to get out of the office. I take a deep breath then grab my stuff and stop at my boss’s office on my way out.

Hey, what's up? Samantha asks while studying some paperwork scattered on her desk.

Well, I say and pause.

She glances up at me and the smile fades from her face. Are you sick?

Yeah, I think I'm coming down with something.

There's nothing urgent, so just go home and get some rest, she offers while studying my face.

Thanks, I say with a weak smile.

I hope you feel better, she says. Call me over the weekend if you need Monday off too.

On my way out of the building, several other people tell me I look awful and ask if I'm sick. I nod and hurry past them as they tell me to feel better. I know I must look awful. I feel awful. It isn’t because of the flu or some bug, like everyone in my office believes. It’s much more severe than that.

Walking to the parking lot, my head starts pounding and I’m feeling faint and nauseous. Luckily, I manage to get in my car before I pass out in the middle of the lot. I turn the key in the ignition and put my head on the steering wheel for a moment. I don’t even know if I can make it home. But, what else can I do? Tears well up in my eyes and I choke down a pitiful wail. I quickly pull myself together, trying to keep the emotional floodgates from bursting wide open. I seriously can’t fall apart in my car while I’m parked right outside my office building. I need to just focus on getting the hell out of here so I can go to bed. Wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt, I take a breath and slide on my sunglasses. Then, I pull out of the parking lot and pray for green lights.

I don’t quite remember how I got home but I’m here, at my safe haven. The street is quiet. Everyone is still at work and won’t be home for a few more hours. Maybe my luck is changing. Probably not. I grab my gel eye mask from the fridge, and a bottle of water. Popping my meds for my migraine, I collapse into my sofa. I try to clear my mind so that I can rest, but my thoughts are racing.

You know, this morning I woke up thinking it was going to be a pretty good day. I had woken up ten minutes early, stretched and lounged in my bed until the alarm went off. The radio station was playing one of my favorite songs and I hopped out of bed, ready to get this Friday started. I turned the music up and sang along in the shower. Friday’s actually my favorite day of the week. It’s the last day of the workweek, and there’s so much anticipation about what the weekend will hold. Anything is possible on a Friday.

As I stepped out of my house, almost everyone I saw on the block seemed to be smiling. People’s spirits have lifted now that spring is finally here and our long, dreary winter seems to be behind us. I waved to a couple neighbors as we climbed into our cars and started the daily commute.

The morning seemed so innocent and full of possibilities. I even managed to make it to work early and was able to sit down, enjoy my coffee and read a couple articles before starting on my inbox. Before I knew it, it was past lunchtime. I had been working hard all morning, slowly reducing the huge slush pile in my inbox. Since it was such a gorgeous day, I thought that I would walk down to the deli to get a sandwich. Usually, I just nuke something in the microwave but I didn’t want to be stuck inside all day. Walking past the store fronts, I glanced in the window at Bailey’s Fine Jewelry store. The sunlight made all of the diamonds, gemstones and crystal gifts sparkle and cast rainbows all around. There was one vase in particular that really caught my eye. I walked up to the window to take a closer look and that one decision changed my life forever. And, I’m not saying that in a melodramatic sort of way. It really changed my life forever. My whole world proceeded to fall apart, because of that vase.

Stupid vase, I mutter. Good Lord, my head is throbbing. I think I need another dose of my meds. The first dose hasn’t touched the pain. People that haven’t had migraines don’t understand what kind of excruciating pain a migraine causes. They think that it’s just a bad headache. If they only knew what we suffer with, they’d be more sympathetic! I have a knot in my shoulder that is shooting pain up my neck into my head, or the other way around. I can’t really tell. The pain is centralized behind my left eye. It feels like someone is pounding a spike into my skull. What makes it really bad is that the pain isn’t consistent. Each pounding sensation causes a bolt of intense pain that makes me wince. Then the pain eases slightly before starting all over again.

Realize that my eye mask has gotten warm, I consider trying an ice compress. Reluctantly, I drag myself off the sofa and walk very slowly to the kitchen. I try not to make any sudden movements because that might trigger extra poundings from this hellish jackhammer migraine. The clinking of ice cubes going into the compress sounds horribly loud. I get another migraine pill and head back to my sofa for refuge where I settle back into the cushions and rest the compress on my forehead. It’s too cold to put directly on my eye but the cold sensation seems to help reduce the intensity of the throbbing and it’s numbing the pain a little.

My eyelids start to feel heavy. I just want to stop thinking about today and just fall asleep. Luckily, I’m so exhausted that I quickly fall asleep as soon as I close my eyes.

A very loud and very annoying buzzing sound wakes me from my sleep. It takes me a few seconds to decipher that hideous noise because I'm so groggy. Kate must be here. I don’t know why she’s ringing that buzzer so many times though. Dragging myself off the sofa, I wrap a blanket around my shoulders and stumble toward the door. Surprisingly, my migraine seems to be going away.

I open the door and my face drops. It’s not Kate. It’s Michael. He just stares at me for a second. Just from his expression, I know that I really must look like a pitiful mess.

Look, Meg, we need to talk, he says.

We have absolutely nothing to talk about, I say and try to shut the door, but he reaches out and holds it open.

I hate that it happened like this. I wanted to break it to you gently, he says.

You're unbelievable. Get out of my face!

When you calm down, please call me so that we can straighten this out, he says. The slight crack in his voice gives away his annoyance with me, but I don’t care.

I hope that your life is cursed with pain and misery and that you never experience happiness again!

With that, I slam the door in his face. I wait to hear his footsteps walk away, then I crawl back to the sofa and cry again. How could I have thought that Michael was so perfect? I’m such a fool.

I really have to stop crying. Looking up at the ceiling, I try to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks as I take a deep breathe. I close my eyes wishing that I still felt numb. Instead, I feel raw pain, and it’s piercing. Maybe watching some TV will distract me from all of this crap. Before I can turn on the tube, that obnoxious buzzer is going off again. My heart sinks and I feel like I’m going to vomit. I drag myself off the sofa once more, hoping Michael hasn't come back.

As I crack open my door, Kate gives me a great big hug. I start to cry again. She brings me back to the sofa and gets me a new bottle of water. It’s such a relief to finally have Kate here. She wants to know what happened, but the events are so hideous, that I only want to go through the story once, so we decide to wait until Cecile and Julia arrive.

Kate sets down copies of People Magazine, National Enquirer and US Weekly on the coffee table. During a crisis, this is standard issue. There’s something comforting about reading outrageously sensational stories. It kind of makes your own drama seem a little less, well, dramatic. Kate reads me an article about this celebrity couple on the brink of divorce and an article about a nasty fistfight between these other two celebrities. Even in the midst of my crisis, these articles amuse me.

The buzzer goes off again. Kate answers the door for me and lets Cecile and Julia inside. They both hug me and flop down in chairs, tossing their purses and jackets on the floor. Kate picks up the phone and calls our favorite Mexican restaurant. She tells Miguel to have the dark corner booth ready for us in about an hour.

Now that Kate is off the phone, and Cecile and Julia have arrived, I guess it’s time to tell the whole morbid story. Just thinking about where to begin, makes me start crying again. They look at me a little bewildered, murmuring words of encouragement. Kate hands me a box of Kleenex and squeezes my hand. I take another deep breath. Okay, I’m as ready as I’m going to.

Since it was such a beautiful day, I decided to walk to the deli to get my lunch instead of eating at my desk. On my way there, I stopped outside Bailey’s Fine Jewelry store to look at this beautiful vase that was in the window. But, when I stepped closer, I could see inside the store, I say and gulp down another couple cries. That’s when I recognized Michael. At first, I was so excited thinking that he was picking out jewelry for me. But then I saw her, a blonde leggy bitch wrapping herself around him. He actually put his arm around her and smiled. I honestly couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I just stood there staring as the jeweler brought them pieces to look at.

Oh my God! He’s cheating on you! Cecile shouts.

Oh, it’s worse than that. I got up the nerve to go inside the store to confront Michael with his tramp, I say sniffling.

Good for you, Meg, Kate says, squeezing my hand again.

Well, what happened? Julia asks.

I walked into the store and the door chimes went off. Michael turned around and saw me. He went totally blank. I glared at him and simply said, ‘Hello, Michael’. He quietly muttered ‘hi’. The blonde leggy bitch turned around and she was all smiles and bubbly. I seriously wanted to smack her. She asked Michael who his friend was, and all he could do was mutter ‘Meg’. She came over and shook my hand and said how nice it was to meet a friend of Michael’s. Then, she announced that they had just gotten engaged and were shopping for a ring!

You have got to be kidding! Kate exclaims outraged.

That bastard! Did you slap the hell out of him? Julia asks.

By now, tears are streaming down my face again. I’m trying not to get choked up, but I’m not succeeding very well.

No. I wish I had, but I was too shocked to say or do anything. I just said that I was late and had to go. Then I went back to the office and sat in utter shock until I was able to call Kate.

So, that lowlife has been cheating on you with someone this whole time and now he got engaged without telling you! Julia says.

Apparently.

Meg, I know that it hurts, but its better that you found out now. Who knows how long Michael would have waited to tell you, Cecile says pragmatically.

I know. I just haven’t been able to process the whole thing yet. That’s not even the end of the story.

You’ve got to be kidding. There’s more? Kate asks.

Yeah. After I got home, I fell asleep on the sofa. I woke up to hear the door buzzer, and I thought Kate was here. When I opened the door, it was actually Michael.

That jerk! What the hell was he doing, showing up at your house, Julia yells.

Well, he kept trying to insist that we needed to talk.

I hope you told him off! Kate says.

Not really. I wasn’t thinking that clearly. I had just woken up. I told him there was nothing to talk about and that I hoped his life was cursed with pain and misery and that he would never experience happiness again.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could actually put curses on people? Julia says with a sly smile.

I’m sure that he’ll get what’s coming to him. It’s only a matter of time, Kate says and she squeezes my hand again. Karma always catches up with people sooner or later.

I hope so, I say. I can’t stand to think that he’ll get away with doing this to me. I hope the universe gives him one hell of a karmic kick in the pants!

Chapter 2

After I’ve finished spilling my guts about the whole Michael fiasco, the girls help me pull myself together enough to head down to El Rodeo. It’s our favorite Mexican restaurant and we eat here all the time. Whenever one of us is in the midst of a crisis, we call ahead so they’ll hold the dark, corner booth for us. Unfortunately it’s been happening more lately than we’d like.

When the owner Miguel sees us walk in, he comes over and asks which one of us is having man trouble. Kate gestures to me and Miguel offers to kill the bastard that has made me so miserable, shaking his fist in the air. He says this whenever one of us has a broken heart. We laugh a little, our spirits starting to lift slightly. He says he has just the thing we need and he quickly ushers us to our booth and heads to the bar. He returns with a round of tequila shots on the house. This is his personal remedy for broken hearts, which we gladly accept.

We order our usual entrees. We don’t even open our menus and the waitresses have actually stopped bringing them to us anyways. Munching on the chips and salsa that were quickly placed on our table, we start ordering pitchers of Margaritas. After several rounds, I start to cheer up. I know it’s the liquor, but hey, I’ll take it. I couldn’t take feeling that miserable any longer. As the drinks continue to flow, we get very loud and obnoxious with our male bashing. Instead of telling us to quiet down, the other customers laugh and cheer us on.

At closing time, we pay the check and leave a huge tip for Miguel and his staff. He’s the best! He never let our Margarita pitcher reach the bottom, and you seriously can’t ask for better service than that.

We stumble home to my house which is only a couple blocks away. Everyone’s going to be crashing there tonight which I’m thankful for because I really don’t want to be alone. Before we even make it to my street, I throw up behind some bushes. I lay in the dewy grass, heaving my guts out. I’m guessing that I had one too many margaritas tonight. I’m coming off my buzz and starting to feel sad. Kate gets me back on my feet and helps me walk the rest of the way home. She said I was stumbling and tripping, but honestly I don’t remember.

Once back at my house, Julia grabs Gatorade for us and we collapse on the sofa. I guzzle the Gatorade hoping to be a little less dehydrated and a little less hung over in the morning but it makes me feel a little drunk again.

So, if we really could put a curse on Michael, what would you want to happen to him? Julia asks as she grabs a pen and a notebook.

I giggle and then realize that she’s serious. We spend the rest of the night brainstorming the kind of pain and misery we would inflict upon Michael if we could. Here’s our final list:

He suffers extreme humiliation.

He gets evicted from his apartment.

He gets fired from his job.

The skinny blonde bitch cheats on him!

He realizes what he could have had with me, but now never will.

His wedding is plagued with problems if he even makes it to getting married.

On his honeymoon, he gets attacked by sharks or at the very least gets food poisoning.

His wife divorces him and takes all of his money.

He dies a very painful and lonely death.

He burns in hell for eternity. (We aren’t sure if this one is a little over the top but decide nah, it really isn’t.)

We wake up hung over, heads pounding, mouths dry – all that good stuff that accompanies a night of excessive drinking. Kate is the least hung over. That’s not saying much, because she still has dark circles under her eyes and her hair is sticking up in three directions. But, since she’s in the best shape, Kate’s elected to go fetch breakfast. We always eat a greasy breakfast the morning after a drinking binge to cure our hangovers. I don’t know if there’s any scientific evidence, but it seems to work for us.

After she gets back, we practically inhale our breakfast. It does seem to make us feel a little better but it certainly doesn’t do anything for our motivation. We just lie around the living room trying to doze off again which is virtually impossible in a room with three other girls. The blinds are closed and probably won’t be opened today. Realizing that I’m not getting any more sleep, I turn the television on, and the sound comes blaring out. I quickly fumble with the remote until the volume is tolerable, which is practically mute. I flip through the channels until I find The Price Is Right. We love game shows and cheer our good fortune in finding an episode on the air. Well, as much cheering as is possible from four hung over girls on a Saturday morning.

I try to focus on the bidding war, but inevitably, my mind begins to wander. I remember the time that Michael took me to a charity auction. We hadn’t been dating very long, but in his gusto to impress me, he ended up out-bidding everyone and paying $500 for me to spend a day at this fancy, exclusive spa. At the time, I considered it a sign of how much he cared about me and wanted me to be happy, but now, it may not have been that way at all. Actually, nothing about our relationship is how it seemed. It was all a bunch of lies and deceptions. Was there anything at all that was real in the year that we spent together?

Who are you calling? Kate asks, giving me a look of concern.

I don’t answer.