Sisters

“You'll find something,” he said gently. She was industrious, hardworking, passionate, and smart. There was no way she wasn't going to find the right path sooner or later. He wasn't worried about her at all.

They ordered dinner and kept on chatting. They sat at the table until the restaurant closed and then he walked her home. She didn't invite him in this time, because it was late, and she didn't feel ready to do that. And her sisters were probably in their pajamas and relaxing. She thanked him for dinner, and let herself into the house. She turned as she was about to step inside, smiled at him, and wished him a Merry Christmas, wishing she could see his face. Her sisters had all told her he was handsome. He was tall and blond with broad shoulders, and they thought that they made a cute couple.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Annie,” Brad said softly. “I had a great time.”

“So did I,” she said, and closed the door behind her. Everyone was asleep by then, and she tiptoed to her room, looking happy. It had been a very nice first date, and worth every penny she'd paid Sabrina for their bet.

The last day on the show before the Christmas hiatus was predictably insane. Guests were hysterical, frantic about the holidays, and meaner than usual to their mates. One couple started slugging it out, and they had to cut to commercial. And for the first time ever, their psychologist, Désirée, got hit in the face and had hysterics. She took a Xanax and called her lawyer, she threatened to sue them, and said it was going to cost them. The entire staff had hangovers and headaches from their Christmas party the night before.

“Life in the fast lane,” Tammy said to someone as she ran to get an ice pack for Désirée to try and calm her down. The fighting couple had actually made up on the show, which Tammy told Désirée was a major victory for her.

It was all the usual craziness and then some, and on top of everything else, two of the network executives were on the set to see the show. They wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Since Tammy had been there, sponsors were lining up around the block, and the ratings were sky high. She was carrying the ice pack for Désirée when she was introduced to the executives, and one of them asked her if she took self-defense classes to work on the show.

“No, just Red Cross first-aid training,” she said, as she held the ice pack. “We administer electroshock therapy if they get too out of hand.” He laughed, and he was still hanging around after Tammy came back from Désirée's dressing room. She had finally calmed down.

“Is there some reason why you want to work in a psych ward?” he asked. He had thought the show was hilarious though in incredibly bad taste. There was a certain humanity and poignancy to it, but on the whole, even Tammy knew it was bad.

“It's a long story. I had to come to New York for a year. So I gave up my job in L.A.” It was more than a job. He knew the show she'd been on, and couldn't believe she'd given it up. Neither could anyone else.

“For a guy, I assume,” he said knowingly, but she shook her head, with a smile.

“No, for my sister. She had a bad accident and my other sisters and I decided to take care of her for a year. We moved in together, and it's been great. And I took this job. So here I am, Nurse Ratched in a psych ward, handing out ice packs and Valium.” He was intrigued by her. She was an amazing woman. He was a few years older than she was and had just moved from Philadelphia. She liked him too, and thought he looked relatively normal, which only meant he was a freak in disguise, if she thought he was cute.

“Look, uh … I'm going to St. Bart's with my family for Christmas. I'd love to see you when I get back, after New Year's. It would be fun to see you then.”

“Not to worry,” she said, smiling at him. “I haven't had a date on New Year's Eve since kindergarten. And I cry when I hear ‘Auld Lang Syne.’ Have a great time in St. Bart's.”

“I'll call you when I get back,” he promised, which she knew was polite for “I hope to never lay eyes on you again and I'm going to flush your cell phone number down the toilet, or feed it to my cat.” She had absolutely no expectation of ever hearing from him again. He was too cute and looked too normal. He didn't look like a vegan or like he'd ever had a high colonic.

“Thanks for visiting the show,” she said politely, ran off to attend to the usual crises, and promptly forgot him. He said his name was John Sperry and she was absolutely certain she would never hear from him again.