Bellamy's Redemption

“Then I guess your feeling was wrong.”

“You’re the worst friend ever.”

“You’re lucky to have someone so honest in your life. Anyhow, I was just kidding. So, you totally don’t think someone could go to prison for stealing little things like lipstick, right?”

“Why are we talking about this again?”

“Huh? I’d better run! Bye!”

We hung up and I set down my phone on the countertop and turned on the water to make tea. I glanced around me at my perfectly clean sink and the white porcelain tea cups hanging on their tiny hooks beneath the tall black cabinets. Betsy had a point about messy kitchens. I drew in a deep breath, tore open the wrapper of a mint tea bag, and tossed the wrapper onto the floor. It lay there, making me nervous and sick. Next I took one of my kitchen towels, crumpled it into a little ball, and wedged it between the faucet and the wall. It looked completely stupid. I knew once I removed it, it would have creases in it and microscopic bits of dust and germs. I pretty much had to wash it again now.

The kettle began to whistle, so I made my tea, depositing the used tea bag directly in the middle of my kitchen table once the tea was done steeping. A tiny puddle of water spread out around the bag, threatening to permanently discolor my tabletop. I averted my eyes and went to my living room, settling onto the sofa and making note of the time. If I could handle my kitchen being in disarray for twenty minutes straight, I could handle anything Bellamy’s Redemption had to throw at me.

Chapter 3

I wasn’t sure if I was more disgusted or impressed that I ruined a French antique just to prove a point to myself. I reminded myself that I had considered painting the table black to match the cabinets and to contrast with the white tile floor. Now I had no choice.

But first, I had to make my video! I’d been concerned that there would be tons of paperwork, tests, and forms to fill out. I’d even thought I may have squandered too much of my day off to complete the whole application process. I was psyching myself up to call off for the following day as well, but when I logged in to the network’s website, it appeared that submitting a video of myself was the only step required. Honestly, applying for a job at Target was trickier and more intimidating than signing up to be on national television, travel the world, and marry a stranger. (Well, not really a stranger. Bellamy is not a stranger.)

The website for Bellamy’s Redemption was very encouraging. All they wanted were energetic, happy candidates. That seemed easy enough. They had a list of questions that a friend or relative should read, and that I was supposed to answer as cheerfully as possible. I was feeling so good about everything that I was barely thinking about the table.

I had ten to fifteen minutes to make a great impression on them. Fortunately, I know a thing or two about making little movies since I always shoot a walkthrough video with commentary of finished design projects for my portfolio. I decided I would throw in some of that footage so they could see how professional I am, and so I could show off some of my cute work clothes.

Logically there was only one person in the world who should help me with this: Mr. Television himself, Pete! So I ran next door and woke him up from his nap. He said he’d be right over to help, but to someone as laidback as Pete, that means whatever he wants it to mean. After forty-five long, torturous minutes he showed up at my apartment with his video camera and a brand new Spin-Chop-Dryer. “I told you I’d snag one for you,” he said, setting it down on the table stain, oblivious to the huge amount of drama that stain represented.

“Thanks,” I said. His maniacal, beaming face was in a burst shaped bubble on the corner of the box.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me to come over with my video camera?”

“Funny, Pete. Do you think this dress is right?” I was wearing a clingy, champagne colored cocktail dress that has seen me through many a rehearsal dinner and blind date. Now it was hopefully going to help me through the most important interview of my life. My hair was up in a twist. I thought it looked kind of messy-chic. Maybe the show’s producers would mistakenly think it was longer than it really was.

“You look good. But take your hair down.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. And put on more lipstick.”

“Really? I never wear much lipstick.”

“Trust me. I’m in television. You have to grab their attention.”

In this aspect, I did trust Pete. So I shook out my hair and touched up my lipstick.

“You realize that me coming over here and doing this for you does not in any way mean I am supporting your decision to try to get with this Bellamy guy, right?”

“Okay, got it.”

“I just wanted to make that clear.”

“Why is everyone so opposed to this idea?” I asked.

“You’re better than this.”

“Better than what? What’s so bad about wanting to have fun, and travel the world, and end up with someone wonderful?”

Pete looked like he was going to say something relevant or deep, but instead he simply said, “Put on a push up bra.”

“I’m already wearing one!”