Shannon’s Reality Test
by Shauna Checkley
Shannon gazed about the black, round black table. It was so dark that it almost reflected her image under the bright overhead lights. She saw that the whole office staff was in attendance. Everyone was properly attired in business casual: chinos, Dockers, Jones of New York. As ever, Graham led the proceedings with a Power Point presentation that they followed step by step. He was the manager at Sifton Industries, after all.
Like every other meeting, it was a balance between boredom and necessity, compliance and free will. Even the coffee was a compromise, latte and mocha instead of the regular grind. Yet as Graham continued at length about point number three, intermittently checking his gold watch as he spoke, Shannon shivered. Am I for real? Am I really a part of this whole thing? Am I actually doing it?
Shannon gazed around the table again. Yet she continued to feel like a stranger, an imposter even amongst the rest of the crowd. She felt her nervous system race, a knot tighten in the pit of her stomach like a donut that wouldn’t dissolve. Do the others see me this way too? Do they think I’m a fraud?
Shivering again, she pulled her lacey, white summer sweater closer together. Does everyone feel this way or is it just me? Probably just me.
She stared at the presentation but only saw a stalled blankness instead. Scrambling to regain her focus, she stared at Graham and listened carefully to his words. Soon she was back on task. Good. Thank God. Whew.
* * *
Mercifully enough, the meeting took up the remainder of the afternoon, and its culmination marked the end of the workday. They all piled out and went home. Shannon, too.
Once there, she was glad to be back in her own space. She quickly changed into street clothes, put her hair in a ponytail, and chilled with her calico cat, Grace. They hadn’t had much down time together lately, so it was a welcome cuddle. Grace head-bopped and purred.
Shannon felt relaxed, authentic at home alone. For it was only then that the day’s posturing was put to rest. All masks checked at the door. Dress shoes kicked off. Unwinding like a skein of silk, she sprawled out on the charcoal gray sectional, that is, until her cell phone rang.
“Hello,”
“Oh, hi, Mom, how’s it going?”
“Good. Same as always,”
Shannon listened as her elderly mother prattled on about her day of feeding the squirrels who gamboled about her yard, then a heated argument with a neighbor who claimed that Esther was aiding and abetting the wildlife in the area, rabbits included, and finally her doing a few errands on foot. Then the phone conversation suddenly shifted to the reason for the call at hand.
“Sure, I will help you.”
“The vet appointment is this Saturday at noon.”
“Okay, I’ll come a little after eleven then. I can help get them in their cat carriers and all that”
“Okay, see you then. Bye.”
Shannon hung up. In her mind’s eye, she imagined the proceedings as she had helped on the same such vet runs before. Cats fleeing at the sight of the dreaded cat carriers. Then having to track them down and flush them out from under beds and out of closets and finally getting them stuffed into carriers and hauled out to the car and into the busy vet’s office. It was a gong show for certain. Yet it needed to be done. As it was time for their yearly shots and checkup, for all four of them in fact: Murphy, Pin, Loco, Jack. The usual suspects. She exhaled deeply.
It was Blair. Her boyfriend:
Want to go out for a drink and appies? My treat.
Sure
On my way
K
Once at The Chimney, their favorite nearby restaurant, they chose to sit in the outdoor lounge. It was nearly full. The warm summer day had brought out many others, too, seeking the pleasant outdoors and cool refreshment. Like the sound of piano keys, laughter lightly tinkled all around.
The pair sat under the canvas Molson umbrella of a table that was mostly situated in the shade. Blair wore a polo shirt and dress pants. With his bubbly, eager exterior, Shannon sensed that he had news to tell.
“How was your day?” Blair asked.
She shrugged.
Then he quickly added, “You sure look nice with your hair up.”
Shannon smiled weakly, gazed away. “How was your day?” she asked him
He smiled. “Busy as ever. But, hey, I managed to reel in a few big new accounts.”
“Really?”
“Yes. They said I’ve managed to set a record or two lately.”
“Congratulations.”
Smiling broadly now, Blair nodded, paused, like he was taking it all in. Then he launched into a long account of wooing potential investors and the like. Shannon listened. Yet she also gazed about the premises, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air and the pedestrian feel of the quiet outdoor lounge.
She saw tables with other bright, upcoming couples, fashionably attired all in comfortable repose after busy workdays. The guys drank beers. The women mostly had girly drinks, colorful cocktails with fruit flourishes decorating the glass rims.
“Well, I guess this is a celebration, then,” Shannon remarked.
“I guess,” Blair agreed
Then the server came and took their order. Deep fried mushroom caps.
Soon Blair was cupping his hand over his eyes to keep the sun out. It was late afternoon now, and the sun was beginning to sink mid-level over the horizon.
“Yeah, I’ve been on a real roll at work lately. Everything’s been working out great.”
The server brought them their drinks. A cherry whiskey paralyzer for her. Coors for him.
They sipped, chatted. Their conversation was desultory, everything ranging from work to the Blue Jays, who were presently on a five-game winning streak despite injuries.
Yet, as she sat there amidst the polished pairs in the outdoor lounge, she began to feel suspect once again. Are we just like all the other couples here? Do they view us the way I see them with their perfect teeth and poised demeanors? Am I able to blend in? Or what? Blair is such a natural at everything, so of course he does. But what about me?
Shannon shifted in her lounge chair. Sipping her drink, she just tried to blot it all out.
“How has your night class been going?” Blair asked.
“Okay.”
“Just okay?” Blair took a long quaff of his beer.
“Actually, I did really well on my assignments. I just don’t want to jinx myself for the final, so I try not to think or talk about it.”
Blair stared at her. His lips moved lightly like he was about to say something, but he was quiet instead.
Recalling her discomfort sitting in evening classes, feeling exposed as ever, Shannon winced at the thought. But then she realized that she didn’t feel much different when she worked online either. Even reading the comments of classmates made her squirm sometimes.
Picking at the mushroom caps, guzzling down his beer, Blair settled effortlessly into his surroundings. He was like a storm in a shot glass, while she was a very flat and still ocean.
* * *
In bed later that evening, Shannon stared at the ceiling. It was like a black shield above her. Not able to sleep, her mind reviewed the day’s events. The meeting at work. The outdoor lounge. It was all innocent enough and yet she was feeling as inauthentic as ever. Why do I always feel like a fraud, an imposter in my own life, in my very own skin?
Shannon mused in the dark. Where do those feelings come from? What is the genesis of all this?
She recalled a happy enough childhood. No overt trauma, anyways. Those were the days of ponytails, piles of Mad Magazine, and her purple banana bike. One of four daughters, she was in the middle, somewhat taken for granted rather than forgotten. Of the sisters, Leah was the beauty with her long eyelashes and cover-girl looks while Janie was athletic and talented in everything she tried and Mona was a brilliant scholar.
But what exactly was I? Who was I then? I was just Shannon. I was just there. That’s all. But don’t we all feel like we’re faking it? Isn’t that a sort of modern-day malaise? What about that expression, “Fake it till you make it”? Doesn’t that speak some universal truth?
Shannon believed as much. Still, she knew that the matter was far from settled.
Tossing and turning in bed, Shannon weighed her options. Could just try and self-examine and process it on my own, or I could seek therapy instead. Work covers counselling after all.
Sleep on it. First things first, and I need rest right now as tomorrow is a workday. She blunted her thinking as much as possible and eventually entered into a somewhat fitful sleep.
* * *
The weekend found Shannon sleeping late, as was her habit. Yet she did get to her mother’s that Saturday morning by 11:00 a.m. as she had promised.
She rang the doorbell. Hearing the familiar Westminster chimes, she waited patiently for some time before finally going inside.
Red-faced and puffing, Ethel, her mother, was already attempting to box cats. She was sitting on her grandmother couch from the seventies, the one with that loud floral print and sagging in the middle. She was attempting to shove big, black Murphy into the cat carrier on her lap. The obese feline was making strange sounds.
The other three cat carriers sat empty on the floor.
“Catch Pin, behind you!” Ethel squawked.
Wheeling around, Shannon saw the long, weasel-like gray cat rushing past.
“That silky sidewinder! Catch her!” Ethel cried.
Shannon chased Pin down the hall and caught her. She ran past all the other old furniture that had claws and animal feet, past the religious icons that adorned the walls. Kicking and squirming the non-descript tabby knew the worst was coming, spooked by both all the ruckus and the sight of the dreaded plastic carriers. Then Shannon shoved the critter bottom-first into the carrier and locked the unit.
Setting her cat carrier down beside it, Ethel grinned and said, “Okay, that’s good! Two down now, two more to go.”
“Where are they?” Shannon asked
Brushing away the sweat collecting on her temples, Ethel said, “Oh, the buggers are hiding. We’ve got to find them. I have to be at the vet’s by noon.”
Shannon nodded. They spread out searching for the errant tomcats.
Checking under her bed, Ethel spotted Loco and ran the broom underneath to flush him out. The ginger cat ran out from under the bed and Shannon promptly caught him. Then the mother and daughter worked as a team. Ethel held the cat carrier firmly while Shannon deposited it inside and locked the unit.
They laughed and high-fived.
“Now there’s just Jack to catch,” Ethel said, sounding somewhat winded.
Shannon exhaled deeply. On a hunch, she checked the bathroom and found Jack curled in the sink, sleeping. He looked so peaceful that she hated disturbing him. But she scooped him up and made a beeline past the claw-foot bathtub for the last carrier. Ethel held it open once again while her daughter slipped the half-asleep cat inside it.
“Hurrah!” Ethel said as she pumped one arm triumphantly in the air.
The remainder of that afternoon was a blur of traffic, the bustling vet office with all of the dogs and other critters gathered and fighting cats in and out of their carriers. It was a taxing time to say the least. When the whole ordeal was finally over, they piled back inside the old family home. They set the carriers down on the living room floor and opened the locks and latches. Cats shot out in different directions.
“Stay for a coffee. Oh, my goodness, I need one so bad,” her mother said, nearly frantic. Then she set about making a fresh pot.
Exhaling deeply, Shannon sank down on a kitchen chair.
The kitchen table, just like the dining room table, was crammed with clippings from the newspaper, stacks of coupons, piles of mail and flyers, some opened and some yet to be opened, and what appeared to be the start of a jigsaw puzzle, though some of the pieces had fallen under the table and were lying flat.
Shannon scooped up the fallen pieces and returned them to the big mound on the kitchen table. Boy, would my sisters freak if they saw all this! Shannon knew they were not tolerant of their mother and her cats and the general clutter, claiming it all to be a fire hazard and not just your garden-variety eyesore.
Soon, though, the kitchen was flooded with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. It helped to mask the scent of Pine Sol and a faintly musty odor that had settled about the wartime residence.
Her mother poured them each a coffee. They sat and sipped. Then her mother smiled and said, “What would I do without you? None of the rest of them give a hoot, just you, always you. Never your sisters.”
Shannon stared into the big gray eyes that looked like mud puddles and saw a near reverence registering in them.
Her mother’s face softened and widened. Continuing, her mother said, “You were always the kind one, the good one. The reliable and diligent and beloved one. You were always just you, just the way you are. Come, let me fix your ponytail; it’s drooping a bit.”
Tilting her head, she let her mother brush her hair and put it up into a high, tight ponytail. It suddenly felt just like old times, like back in the days of endless ponytails, banana bikes and piles of Mad Magazine. Shannon felt light, essential, and free. She felt a glow of nostalgia overtake her like a warm, sweeping wind.
All of sudden she felt the whole world right itself, inside and out. She felt her issues resolve and dissolve. The clouds inside her began to lift. Her attitudes began to shift, and she realized just how capable she really was, given today’s comedy of errors. If today was a test of sorts, a job evaluation even, than surely, I will be awarded a passing grade.
They exchanged smiles. Ethel patted her hand. “Thank you, dearest.”
“You’re welcome, Mom.”
“Thank you for everything, always.”
They chatted and drank coffee for hours, visiting until the day morphed into an indigo wonderland, the moon a silver mask. While angry cats remained hidden, they found pieces of themselves, snatches of memory and experience and marveled at it all. For life had come effortlessly together.
Copyright © 2023 by Shauna Checkley
