If I'm not mistaken, the definition of a day off is as follows - noun: a day when you are not required to work; a day away from work, school, or a similar obligation; a free day.
I'm pretty sure most people understand the definition of a day off.
Not Oprah. Well, at least not the higher beings of the OWN network. I was sprawled on the floor with Jake making Lite Bright rocket ships when my phone rang the first time. Just by the ringtone, I knew who it was.
And that's why I chose to ignore it. However, they were persistant. It was hard to listen to Jake's story about the astronaut whose spaceship ran out of green beans when I had my home phone battling with my cell and 'Take This Job and Shove It' vibrating its melody from the floor every few minutes.
"Just a sec, honey," I finally said. I hit connect and sat up. Jake studied a green bulb and shoved it through the black paper.
"Hello?"
"Oh good, you answered." I wasn't sure who it was from the building, but then again everyone had the same mission: please Oprah.
I rolled my eyes. "What can I do for you?"
"Oprah wants to talk to you."
I coughed. "What? It's my day off."
"She needs to talk to you. Today. Now."
"I'm sorry, but I can't wave a magic wand and get a sitter out of thin air."
"The daycare's open today."
Thanks to Oprah and her foresight, the one major excuse that would typically be an easy out was foiled. I glanced at Jake and sighed.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes."
Here's the thing: I smelled like oranges and I kinda liked it. I wasn't the type of guy to overuse women's shaving cream, mind you, but I have to admit I would use Shay's stuff again if I had to.
My mind was going through a list of all of the orange things I loved as I walked up the walk to my front door. I was jonesin' for some Tropicana. I whistled softly as I unlocked the door and headed in.
I never even got a chance to get my O.J.
"Where were you?"
I froze.
"You're back early."
That probably wasn't the right thing to say, but it was true. Lauren was sitting on the couch, Silas sprawled across her lap.
"I've been back since late last night. Where were you?"
Those were three little words that made little sweat driblets start at my hairline.
"It's a funny story," I began.
Lauren didn't laugh.
"I had Jake yesterday afternoon and I dropped him off at Shay's. He wanted me to watch Thomas the Tank Engine with him before I came home and I kinda...fell asleep."
"You fell asleep," Lauren repeated. "At Shay's."
"With Jake," I stressed. "In his little bed. Big ole' me. Itty bitty bed."
Laur stood up, Silas sliding onto the floor. He looked confused for a second before his big paws propelled him off somewhere, no doubt to pee in a place I wouldn't find until much, much later.
"Nick, stop lying to me," she said quietly.
"I'm not lying to you," I said. "Honest."
"You really expect me to believe that you fell asleep in Jake's bed and nothing else happened. And you didn't wake up until ten even though you were probably uncomfortable?"
"I wasn't uncomfortable. I stayed to show Jake how to shave."
"You shaved there?"
Laur leaned in and sniffed. "You smell like oranges. Oh my god, you smell like women's shaving cream. Did you use her razor?"
"Yeah, but it was a new one."
I'm not exactly sure of the symbolism of a woman's razor, but I guess it's worse than admitting you've slept with someone. Lauren exploded.
"I can't believe you! What should I be prepared for next? A story about how you just felt so homey and daddy-dearest-like that you kissed Shay before you left?"
I shook my head. "No, I didn't kiss her today. Besides, that other time was just an accident." It was only after I said it that I realized how fucking stupid I was.
Shay and I had agreed to keep it our little secret. I had just gone and blown it. I had just sealed my death warrant.
"Do you realize what you've done? You've almost ruined a multi-million dollar deal."
I had met Oprah a bunch of times. She's a very sweet lady; really, she is. But she's also a businesswoman.
And I had jacked up big time.
I hadn't realized that the woman I had cut off about scheduling the other day had been Rosie O'Donnell. But Oprah knew. Oprah knew all.
"I'm sorry. I was just trying to explain--"
"Let me explain something. There are a million people who would die for your position. Your work ethic in Chicago was impeccable. Here you've clocked in late more times than not, your work has been sloppy..."
I decided that honesty was the best policy. I mean, who can lie to Oprah?
"I know," I said. "I guess I'm just bored. I know I can do more important things. If I could just have a few more stimulating tasks--"
"You upset Rosie. How are you deserving of more important tasks?"
I refused to cry. I was tired of being a doormat. I sat up straight and looked her right in the eyes. "I'm human and I made a mistake. You can't punish a person for being fallible, but you could let me prove myself. If you can do it, I can do it."
I thought the last line sounded good. It was a kind of 'if you build it, they will come' moment.
But Oprah thought differently. The pink slip she silently slid across the desk was all the answer I needed.
Ready or not, it was time for a change.
