Page 12 of Tap Left
Daire looks genuinely concerned about the state of my mental health.
"You don't take care of yourself."
"That isn't true," I argue, but deep down, it feels like he’s right again. My schedule has been crazy. When you have a difficult time saying no to people, you end up with a lot more on your plate.
"Cut this in half." He tosses the planner in front of me. "Start crossing things out. Anything that doesn't benefit you in some way."
"That seems selfish.”
"It is. That's the whole point." He hands me a pen.
"You mean right now?"
He glances at his watch. “You have ten minutes.”
4
Lola
Aspa dayis not what I had in mind when we set out on our journey this afternoon.Daire is all business when he gives the ladies a generous tip along with his specific instructions on the destruction of Lola Bell.
My hair is shabby, and it needs a cut. My legs look like cactuses and could do with a wax. My fingernails? Is there even anything they can do to salvage them in the aftermath of my nervous habit?
I shouldn’t be surprised that this was the first place he took me, but it still stings. Inside, that familiar little voice is whispering that I’m not good enough. In any case, Daire obviously thinks I’m not good enough for him. I can only imagine what he must see when he looks at me.I know that he never understood what Ryan saw in me. Truth be told, I didn’t either.
Before me, Ryan was notorious for dating the hottest girls in his school.And I was notorious for spilling spaghetti sauce on my shirts and putting my foot in my mouth during everyday conversation.Ryan acted like it didn’t bother him, but then again, we didn’t really run in the same social circles.
Tom was always a little embarrassed by me too, I think.When I asked him why he never took me to work functions, he told me that it wasn’t my crowd. He joked that they used more than one fork at the dinner table and wouldn’t understand my Friends references. It was his way of letting me know I wasn’t sophisticated enough.
It wasn’t news to me. I grew up poor. But I never really cared what anyone else thought.I scraped myself together and worked hard to get through college and start a business. Most of my adult life has been spent trying not to fail. Now, I can’t help wondering if that’s part of the problem. My time and energy has gone into my business and helping other people. Meanwhile, I’ve watched my friends settle down and get married. Their lives and their wardrobes seem so much more structured than mine. And maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be a little more polished.
I give in and let the professionals take it from there, going along with most of their suggestions. My day consists of a hair trim, eyebrow wax, mani/pedi, and full body glow treatment.When they talk about highlighting my naturally blonde hair though, a rebellious streak surges through me.I tell them I want pink, and they pause.
But eventually, probably because I came here accompanied by Daire, and they don't want to upset him, they indulge me.And so I emerge three hours later, freshly polished and scrubbed and painted and made up, with pink streaks in my hair.Daire stares at me for far too long when he sees me, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
"How did I know something like this would happen?"
"Baby steps," I tell him. "You can't expect me to change everything all at once."
"Am I wasting my time here, Lola?"
I swallow.
It’s hard to voice my opinions, but I knew this was how it would be with him. Daire is seldom ever cordial, let alone accommodating. He treats life the way he operates his business. In his eyes, there is no time for mediocrity. He doesn’t settle. And I thought that’s what I wanted. But it doesn’t make it any easier to accept the criticism he’s so willing to dish out.
“You said you wanted to be marketable,” he goes on. “You said you wanted a guy who has his shit together.”
“I know what I said.”
“Do you?” he asks. “Because how many CEO’s have you seen escorting a woman with pink hair into Alinea?”
“I’m not trying to bag a CEO.”
“Aren’t you?” Daire quirks his brow, and it feels like this is a trick question. “Because you said you wanted a guy like me. Only not me. So, make up your mind, Lola. Which is it?”
He’s an asshole.
I’ve always known that much to be true. But I try to remember the bigger picture. He’s doing what I asked. Giving me exactly what I knew Daire would provide. His harsh opinions and unbiased judgment.
