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Other You featuring Vanessa Rollins
Other Vanessa
Twitter: @2marks4marks
A young retiree, recently transitioned, witty, clever, genius, thoughtful, funny, curious Vanessa Rollins explores life as it was in the warmth of Phoenix and what it is in the ever changing Chicago. The trek was long and arduous, but as life often shows us, some of the best things are found at the end of a tireless adventure.
Follow her on Twitter: @2marks4marks
Music in today’s episode is Broken by atoa (compiled as a remix by ccMixter). Find this song and others by ccMixter at freemusicarchive.org
Other Vee Short Story
Other Vee stares into the mirror, sizing up the stoic image standing before her. “Pants? Check. Today’s polo? In hand.” Other Vee ponders quietly, whispering, “Okay, but what if I wear a tie?” A pounding heart rings in Other Vee’s ears, echoing loudly in her mind. Her wardrobe could be printed and laminated, and she would not be bothered. She took solace in the structure. Everything has its place. Every day has its clothing. Today was Tuesday, which meant the Teal polo. This week, Other Vee wore charcoal khakis meant to look like a mixture of denim and slacks. They were comfortable, stretchy. Dancer’s pants with a forgiving waistline. These, however, did not flair out at the ankle. They held firmly to her legs, showcasing the contours of a former fat kid’s chiseled calves. “But what if I wore a tie? Does that change things? Does that change me? I mean, what’s that song I’m always singing, ‘let’s make the most of the night like we’re gonna die young?’ Might as well. No, what are you crazy? Teal polo. The end.”
Other Vee flings the tie onto the bed and continues getting ready for the day. Every day starts the same. She leaves her window cracked so the cool air of the dead of night sneaks into her bedroom, kissing her cheeks and chilling the tip of her nose as she sleeps. This same crack allows just enough sunlight into her room as the sun climbs the horizon before resting in the sky above. The single ray of light wrestles the tree line and snakes between the leaves and branches before poking through the barely open window and prying open Other Vee’s sleepy eyes. She lifts her head, swears loudly, and glances at the pending alarm clock which reads 6:52 AM. The alarm clock has a buzz or a ring or whir, but Other Vee has never heard it. Every night she goes to bed and sets her 7 AM alarm, but every morning, the sun climbs through the window before resting firmly on Other Vee’s eyes wresting her from sleep.
Armed with the closet’s offering for the day, Other Vee heads off to work. The pounding in her chest remains. She begins to sweat heavily, filling the seam of the Teal Polo’s collar with perspiration. The tan skin covering her knuckles becomes pale white as she firmly grips the steering wheel. She pulls her Jetta over to the side of the road and leans her seat as far back as it will let her lean. She stares at the roof of the car for a moment and begins calculating in her mind’s eye the size, from left to right, inch by inch of the width of the car’s roof inside. She holds her hand open and places it on the roof above her. “Okay, from my thumb to my pinky is 8.5 inches, roughly. There are approximately five hand lengths going from window to window, maybe a little more? I imagine that puts the width at around 44 to 47 inches?” Her breathing calms. Her heart settles. “What was that?” Confused, but almost late for work, Other Vee sits up, regains her composure, and drives the rest of the way to work.
Hours pass and days later…
“So, where do you see yourself in five years,” asks Benjamin Hartman, a slender man in his late 30s. His well-worn gray suit with mismatched buttons from when he outgrew it several years ago and popped a button sitting down to receive a promotion, hangs on his frame like a blanket wrapped around a child watching cartoons on a chilly Saturday morning. Embarrassed and motivated, he tamed his body and lost enough weight to wear it comfortably, and then lost a few pounds more.
Instinctively and without pause, Other Vee blurts, “As your boss. Or somewhere above that.” Shocked, the interviewer stammers through, “come again?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud the way I did. I have just been planning a corporate climb ever since I was a kid. You know, I almost wore a tie today. I think that was my subconscious preparing me for this conversation, preparing me for the next rung up the ladder. Here, let me ask you something. Five years ago, where did you see yourself? Here? I want to outshoot your dreams and make some real moves here.” Other Vee asserts. Fashioning finger guns, she pew pews above the interviewer’s head and blows invisible smoke away from her fingertips.
Taken aback, the interviewer, responds, “Well, good luck. Your reviews have been stellar, I will say that, but the rungs are small, and people don’t like to share.” A forced smile comes across his face. He drops his chin and looks over his glasses into Other Vee’s eyes.
Not to be outdone, Other Vee calmly responds, “I suppose I will have to climb up and over those between where I am and where I want to be. I have a patent pending, did you hear? I imagine that will raise my stock, and although I do want to grow here, I will grow where the soil is most fertile.” Other Vee flips her hair off her shoulder, stands and extends a hand. “This has been a real treat. I look forward to reading your assessment of my review.”
The two shake hands and Other Vee click clacks her heels as she confidently walks from the conference room and heads to her desk.
Pouring over schematics, Other Vee finishes her work for the day and maps her route to her partner’s place. The most efficient route takes her by their favorite Thai restaurant. Thai is for Wednesdays, but as she began to walk in confidence as she rode the high of her interaction with Benjamin Hartman, she ponders a deviation. Tuesdays are for tacos, everyone knows that. Other Vee and her partner knew that, but today called for a celebration.
Arriving at her partner’s apartment, Other Vee stands at the door and stares into the receiving end of a peep hole. Thai takeout in her right hand and a couple tacos for good measure in her left, the smells of dinner dance around her. She waits patiently at the door, silent and still. The warm evening air drapes over Other Vee. Droplets of sweat race down her forehead and pool on her brows. A statue at the front door, she does not even move to clear the sweat. As if in a waking dream, she is unable to move or speak, crying out for her partner in her mind but nothing is on her tongue. Opening and closing her lips, not even a whistle escapes. She patiently stands at the door, counting the ticks ringing out from her watch. She stands in frozen silence for three hours. She hears the latch of the deadbolt shift. The door opens, “Other Vee? Where have you been? I’ve been texting you. Are you just getting here,” asks her startled partner Gerty.
Other Vee shakes her head, her springy curls bouncing from left to right. After hours of trying, sound finally makes its way out of her mouth, “No. What time is it? I got here at 6. I stopped by for tacos, as it is Tuesday, but I had a really good review and wanted to celebrate with Thai food. I know that’s Wednesday’s meal, but we can have it twice in a row, right?”
Frustrated and confused, Gerty responds harshly, “You got here at 6? It’s after nine. You mean to tell me you’ve been out in front of this door for three hours? I don’t believe you.”
“Why would I lie about that? What a stupid thing to lie about. Look, I don’t know what happened. I got here and I froze. I couldn’t move,” recalls Other Vee.
“Look, you’re not getting cold feet, are you? We talked about leaving Phoenix, but now you’re frozen?”
The excitement of her success in the interview room slowly draining, she mutters, “Can I come in, please? I am hungry and tired, and I don’t know if my fingers still work.”
Without a word, Gerty shifts her weight and opens a path for Other Vee to enter. The two walk to the kitchen table. Other Vee places the bags of food on the table and stares at her cramped mitts. Stuck in their tight grip, both hands are reluctant to release the cold food. Gerty comes over and massages Other Vee’s hands until they soften their grip and she drops the bags onto the table.
“I’m not getting cold feet. I know we have talked about moving away from Phoenix, but I had a really good day at work and a stellar interview, and I think I might want to work my way up here. Maybe we could talk about it again in a few years, but I think I could really make some moves,” the excitement in her voice raises word by word. Continuing, “What if we got a place together in RoRo or Arcadia? We could get a gorgeous condo or a ranch style home. I really think I will do some pretty amazing things here. Do you trust me?”
Gerty stands in silent pause. Taking in a breath she responds…
The end.
View all episodes
By Daniel Moreno
5
11 ratings
Other Vanessa
Twitter: @2marks4marks
A young retiree, recently transitioned, witty, clever, genius, thoughtful, funny, curious Vanessa Rollins explores life as it was in the warmth of Phoenix and what it is in the ever changing Chicago. The trek was long and arduous, but as life often shows us, some of the best things are found at the end of a tireless adventure.
Follow her on Twitter: @2marks4marks
Music in today’s episode is Broken by atoa (compiled as a remix by ccMixter). Find this song and others by ccMixter at freemusicarchive.org
Other Vee Short Story
Other Vee stares into the mirror, sizing up the stoic image standing before her. “Pants? Check. Today’s polo? In hand.” Other Vee ponders quietly, whispering, “Okay, but what if I wear a tie?” A pounding heart rings in Other Vee’s ears, echoing loudly in her mind. Her wardrobe could be printed and laminated, and she would not be bothered. She took solace in the structure. Everything has its place. Every day has its clothing. Today was Tuesday, which meant the Teal polo. This week, Other Vee wore charcoal khakis meant to look like a mixture of denim and slacks. They were comfortable, stretchy. Dancer’s pants with a forgiving waistline. These, however, did not flair out at the ankle. They held firmly to her legs, showcasing the contours of a former fat kid’s chiseled calves. “But what if I wore a tie? Does that change things? Does that change me? I mean, what’s that song I’m always singing, ‘let’s make the most of the night like we’re gonna die young?’ Might as well. No, what are you crazy? Teal polo. The end.”
Other Vee flings the tie onto the bed and continues getting ready for the day. Every day starts the same. She leaves her window cracked so the cool air of the dead of night sneaks into her bedroom, kissing her cheeks and chilling the tip of her nose as she sleeps. This same crack allows just enough sunlight into her room as the sun climbs the horizon before resting in the sky above. The single ray of light wrestles the tree line and snakes between the leaves and branches before poking through the barely open window and prying open Other Vee’s sleepy eyes. She lifts her head, swears loudly, and glances at the pending alarm clock which reads 6:52 AM. The alarm clock has a buzz or a ring or whir, but Other Vee has never heard it. Every night she goes to bed and sets her 7 AM alarm, but every morning, the sun climbs through the window before resting firmly on Other Vee’s eyes wresting her from sleep.
Armed with the closet’s offering for the day, Other Vee heads off to work. The pounding in her chest remains. She begins to sweat heavily, filling the seam of the Teal Polo’s collar with perspiration. The tan skin covering her knuckles becomes pale white as she firmly grips the steering wheel. She pulls her Jetta over to the side of the road and leans her seat as far back as it will let her lean. She stares at the roof of the car for a moment and begins calculating in her mind’s eye the size, from left to right, inch by inch of the width of the car’s roof inside. She holds her hand open and places it on the roof above her. “Okay, from my thumb to my pinky is 8.5 inches, roughly. There are approximately five hand lengths going from window to window, maybe a little more? I imagine that puts the width at around 44 to 47 inches?” Her breathing calms. Her heart settles. “What was that?” Confused, but almost late for work, Other Vee sits up, regains her composure, and drives the rest of the way to work.
Hours pass and days later…
“So, where do you see yourself in five years,” asks Benjamin Hartman, a slender man in his late 30s. His well-worn gray suit with mismatched buttons from when he outgrew it several years ago and popped a button sitting down to receive a promotion, hangs on his frame like a blanket wrapped around a child watching cartoons on a chilly Saturday morning. Embarrassed and motivated, he tamed his body and lost enough weight to wear it comfortably, and then lost a few pounds more.
Instinctively and without pause, Other Vee blurts, “As your boss. Or somewhere above that.” Shocked, the interviewer stammers through, “come again?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud the way I did. I have just been planning a corporate climb ever since I was a kid. You know, I almost wore a tie today. I think that was my subconscious preparing me for this conversation, preparing me for the next rung up the ladder. Here, let me ask you something. Five years ago, where did you see yourself? Here? I want to outshoot your dreams and make some real moves here.” Other Vee asserts. Fashioning finger guns, she pew pews above the interviewer’s head and blows invisible smoke away from her fingertips.
Taken aback, the interviewer, responds, “Well, good luck. Your reviews have been stellar, I will say that, but the rungs are small, and people don’t like to share.” A forced smile comes across his face. He drops his chin and looks over his glasses into Other Vee’s eyes.
Not to be outdone, Other Vee calmly responds, “I suppose I will have to climb up and over those between where I am and where I want to be. I have a patent pending, did you hear? I imagine that will raise my stock, and although I do want to grow here, I will grow where the soil is most fertile.” Other Vee flips her hair off her shoulder, stands and extends a hand. “This has been a real treat. I look forward to reading your assessment of my review.”
The two shake hands and Other Vee click clacks her heels as she confidently walks from the conference room and heads to her desk.
Pouring over schematics, Other Vee finishes her work for the day and maps her route to her partner’s place. The most efficient route takes her by their favorite Thai restaurant. Thai is for Wednesdays, but as she began to walk in confidence as she rode the high of her interaction with Benjamin Hartman, she ponders a deviation. Tuesdays are for tacos, everyone knows that. Other Vee and her partner knew that, but today called for a celebration.
Arriving at her partner’s apartment, Other Vee stands at the door and stares into the receiving end of a peep hole. Thai takeout in her right hand and a couple tacos for good measure in her left, the smells of dinner dance around her. She waits patiently at the door, silent and still. The warm evening air drapes over Other Vee. Droplets of sweat race down her forehead and pool on her brows. A statue at the front door, she does not even move to clear the sweat. As if in a waking dream, she is unable to move or speak, crying out for her partner in her mind but nothing is on her tongue. Opening and closing her lips, not even a whistle escapes. She patiently stands at the door, counting the ticks ringing out from her watch. She stands in frozen silence for three hours. She hears the latch of the deadbolt shift. The door opens, “Other Vee? Where have you been? I’ve been texting you. Are you just getting here,” asks her startled partner Gerty.
Other Vee shakes her head, her springy curls bouncing from left to right. After hours of trying, sound finally makes its way out of her mouth, “No. What time is it? I got here at 6. I stopped by for tacos, as it is Tuesday, but I had a really good review and wanted to celebrate with Thai food. I know that’s Wednesday’s meal, but we can have it twice in a row, right?”
Frustrated and confused, Gerty responds harshly, “You got here at 6? It’s after nine. You mean to tell me you’ve been out in front of this door for three hours? I don’t believe you.”
“Why would I lie about that? What a stupid thing to lie about. Look, I don’t know what happened. I got here and I froze. I couldn’t move,” recalls Other Vee.
“Look, you’re not getting cold feet, are you? We talked about leaving Phoenix, but now you’re frozen?”
The excitement of her success in the interview room slowly draining, she mutters, “Can I come in, please? I am hungry and tired, and I don’t know if my fingers still work.”
Without a word, Gerty shifts her weight and opens a path for Other Vee to enter. The two walk to the kitchen table. Other Vee places the bags of food on the table and stares at her cramped mitts. Stuck in their tight grip, both hands are reluctant to release the cold food. Gerty comes over and massages Other Vee’s hands until they soften their grip and she drops the bags onto the table.
“I’m not getting cold feet. I know we have talked about moving away from Phoenix, but I had a really good day at work and a stellar interview, and I think I might want to work my way up here. Maybe we could talk about it again in a few years, but I think I could really make some moves,” the excitement in her voice raises word by word. Continuing, “What if we got a place together in RoRo or Arcadia? We could get a gorgeous condo or a ranch style home. I really think I will do some pretty amazing things here. Do you trust me?”
Gerty stands in silent pause. Taking in a breath she responds…
The end.