Categories > Movies > Breakfast Club > Of Big Shots and Bohemians
The next morning at work, Andy found a lull in his appointment schedule. He didn't even know exactly why he was there. He'd seen only on person that morning, and the rest of his day he was watching sports reports on his portable TV and sipping a can of beer. After last night's hell fest with Allison, he really wasn't in the mood to be there. Last night at home, Vanessa didn't say a word about Allison other than "I'm surprised she hasn't been arrested yet!" and "I'll bet she's a prostitute, she just doesn't want to admit it." Andy refused to listen. Instead he drowned himself in paperwork all night.
Andy had locked his office door so neither Kitty nor Vanessa could get in. He just wanted to be alone.
"Ugh! Damn Sabers lost again! Fuck Buffalo!" Andy yelled, furiously turning off the TV. Suddenly there was a pounding on the door.
"Dr. Clark! There's a call from Vanessa for you! Want me to send it over to your line?" Kitty yelled from the other side.
"Take an early lunch, and no, Kitty," replied Andy.
"But it's 9:50!"
"Just go!" demanded Andy. Kitty left. Andy sank down in his chair, put his feet on his desk and looked up at the ceiling. Allison was wrong. Today's world was a material world. Without money, there was no life. Comparing his life to hers was like comparing Buckingham Palace to a shack. Allison was immature and stupid if she thought man couldn't live by bread alone.
Andy unlocked his drawer and took out the picture of him and Allison as teenagers. Good times in '84. Back then, money didn't mean shit. It was all about love and each other. Allison lived in the past. She was in denial.
Andy thought for a minute. Shit. He was so soft. Allison was right. Not about Vanessa, but he was being a Scrooge in thinking you couldn't be happy without financial security. He looked at the photo again, picked up the phone and took out the phone book...
~~~~~
The phone ringing at 10AM was what woke Allison up. Her throat was dry. She couldn't pick up the phone without sounding like Deep Throat.
"Helene? Can you get it?" asked Allison. She tumbled onto the floor and made her way to the kitchen. Helene was at the table with a left over soy burger in her hand. Helene groaned and got up to answer the phone, muttering French curse words as she went to the phone. Allison found a leftover bowl of Mizo soup in the fridge and went to warm it up. That should help.
"Allison? It's Dr. McAsshole on the phone!" said Helene, holding the phone out. Allison shook her head.
"Tell him to go fuck himself!" said Allison. Helene nodded with a devious smile. "ONLY tell him to go fuck himself, Helene! No jokes about his mother!"
Helene frowned. "If you put it that way..." Helene spoke into the phone: "She's right here!" Allison shot a murderous look as Helene handed over the phone.
"You're going to die for this!" she warned, then put her mouth to the receiver. "I'm surprised you called. I thought you'd be nice enough to remember that I can't afford to talk to you!"
Andy from his desk rolled his eyes. "Allison, about last night-"
"-are you apologizing?" Allison asked.
"No, of course not, but I wanted to call and tell you I know how you feel." Allison's jaw dropped.
"Oh, so now you pity me?" Allison yelled.
Andy smacked his forehead. "Oh no, that's not what I-"
"-You are such a jerk!" and with that, Allison hung up the phone. Now...about that Mizo soup...
Meanwhile, Andy threw the phone across the room. He'd meant to apologize! Why did he say he wasn't going to? It was his goddamn ego. He needed to apologize and humble himself before Allison in person. He was such an ego machine! Andy got up and closed the office for the rest of the day. He needed some time to think by himself.
~~~~~
Allison, not having a second thought about the phone call, slipped on a peasant skirt (found in a vintage 60's shop) and a Grateful Dead t-shirt. Not exactly an elegant ensemble, but it would do. Allison planned to unwind by painting in Central Park all afternoon. She grabbed a scarf and wrapped it around her neck several times. She took a pad of disposable paint palettes, a collapsible easel, a few tubes of paint and five brushes, and stuffed them into her duffel bag. Allison caught a bus out to the park and found a seat on a park bench. Unfolding her easel and setting a canvas up, Allison looked for a subject.
Looking around, Allison found a tree with a few buds beginning to appear. Underneath, a little girl in a pink dress read from a child's bible. Now, Allison was an abstract artist, so she elected to give the girl's dress the appearance of bark and the tree trunk a pink cloth-like texture. Allison set to work. She was uninterrupted for an hour and a half. Life was good when her muse whispered into her ear.
Coincidentally, Andy had made his way to Central Park to burn off the steam from this morning. Walking slowly down the path, he slowly observed couples and families taking Sunday walks and having picnics. Andy couldn't help but think that soon, he and Vanessa might be parents. What kind of dad would he be? How many tykes would he even want? Two? Three? Not too many, coming from a family of 5 himself. Andy hated being the oldest of 5, the only boy at that. He always had to be the example of perfection. His poor little sisters Amelia, Amanda, Annabelle, and Aileen could never keep up to their brother. That's why they all rebelled. Andy was always jealous of them. He never had the guts to do what they'd done so easily. Amelia and Amanda disowned their parents and moved away and still shared a flat in San Diego. Annabelle ran away to Canada, found her friend's uncle to live with, and got dual citizenship. Aileen still lived at home (she was still only 15), but she hung out with the emo crowd instead of the preferred prep club set. Andy was proud of his little sisters for standing up and wrote them constantly. But because of so much turmoil in the family, Andy knew he didn't want to have more than two or three kids. But what if Vanessa wanted a lot of children? Probably not, childbirth would ruin her figure and therefore her modeling career. That was a shame. Andy DID want at least one baby.
Andy sighed and wished he could stop thinking about his future. He just wanted to forget the future, forget his fight with Allison, and soak up this nice warm Sunday in the-
Of course, life was screwing him over again. There was Allison, 20 feet in front of him. She was sitting on a park bench painting. She wore a purple skirt with an odd shape to it (his mom wore those kinds of skirts in old pictures he had of her from the late 1960's), a black t-shirt and a frumpy scarf hanging loosely around her neck. Her hair was in her face as she studiously worked on whatever she painted. A little girl underneath a tree suddenly got up and walked at Allison, who stopped painting. Apparently the little girl in pink was her subject.
"Are you painting me, lady?" asked the girl.
Allison smiled. "Yes I am!"
"Are you done yet?" she asked. Allison nodded.
"With your part I am, wanna see?" The girl nodded eagerly. Andy smiled.
"Wow! I look pretty! Thanks, lady! Am I gonna be in a museum?" she asked.
"I wish!" said Allison. Andy chuckled as the girl ran to meet her mother.
"The lady painted me, mommy!" she shouted happily. The mom smiled and waved at Allison, who waved back, then went back to work. Andy observed, Allison had a way with kids. He snuck up behind her and looked over her shoulder as she worked on the detail of the tree. The girl's pink dress was a bark-colored dress, and the pink was now on the tree. A clever idea, and she really did well with it.
"You really captured her," he said. Allison froze. Oh god, what was HE doing here?
"It's rude to look over someone's shoulder," she said coldly. Andy frowned and sat beside her on the bench.
"You've got a lot of talent, you know," he said.
"What the hell do you want?" she snapped, turning to Andy.
"I'm complementing your painting, is that a crime?" asked Andy, his voice rising. Allison looked at her canvas.
"The depth is kinda off," she said. "I guess I'm having a bad day," she said quietly.
"You don't notice it, really," Andy added.
"Is that all?" Allison asked, turning back to Andy.
Andy sighed. "Ally...I'm sorry. I acted like-"
"-a jerk."
"Exactly. I feel like such a-"
"-an asshole?"
"Hey, give me a chance to apologize for myself okay? Look, I'm not used to living at the basic level you do. It's kind of a culture shock; I guess you could put it as. You know what I mean?"
"Your fiancée would probably shrivel up and die if she stepped into my neighborhood. You know she called me a whore and I did kind of get carried away. I felt like I had to defend myself!" said Allison. Andy nodded.
"I apologize for her too. I'm sorry. I am pretty shallow. You're right," Andy said. Allison shook her head.
"No! No, you were just not used to having a maverick in your apartment. I understand. We're in different worlds now," Allison said.
"Can we still be friends?" asked Andy. Allison cringed. Then she shook her head.
"No. I'll tolerate you, but I don't think we're at the 'friend' level yet," said Allison.
"You'll tolerate me?" Andy confirmed. Allison smiled and nodded. Andy smiled in return. God, she's got nice teeth, Andy thought.
His eyes have a nice sparkle, thought Allison.
"I'll tolerate you if you'll tolerate me," Allison bargained.
Andy nodded and laughed. "I'll tolerate you!" he promised. Allison sighed. How would she get her painting home if it was still wet?
"Help me out in getting this home?" she asked. Andy didn't reply, he just grabbed Allison's duffel bag and helped her pack up. Allison carried the artwork, while Andy carried the bag.
Allison wondered how hard it was to tolerate a jerk.
Andy had locked his office door so neither Kitty nor Vanessa could get in. He just wanted to be alone.
"Ugh! Damn Sabers lost again! Fuck Buffalo!" Andy yelled, furiously turning off the TV. Suddenly there was a pounding on the door.
"Dr. Clark! There's a call from Vanessa for you! Want me to send it over to your line?" Kitty yelled from the other side.
"Take an early lunch, and no, Kitty," replied Andy.
"But it's 9:50!"
"Just go!" demanded Andy. Kitty left. Andy sank down in his chair, put his feet on his desk and looked up at the ceiling. Allison was wrong. Today's world was a material world. Without money, there was no life. Comparing his life to hers was like comparing Buckingham Palace to a shack. Allison was immature and stupid if she thought man couldn't live by bread alone.
Andy unlocked his drawer and took out the picture of him and Allison as teenagers. Good times in '84. Back then, money didn't mean shit. It was all about love and each other. Allison lived in the past. She was in denial.
Andy thought for a minute. Shit. He was so soft. Allison was right. Not about Vanessa, but he was being a Scrooge in thinking you couldn't be happy without financial security. He looked at the photo again, picked up the phone and took out the phone book...
~~~~~
The phone ringing at 10AM was what woke Allison up. Her throat was dry. She couldn't pick up the phone without sounding like Deep Throat.
"Helene? Can you get it?" asked Allison. She tumbled onto the floor and made her way to the kitchen. Helene was at the table with a left over soy burger in her hand. Helene groaned and got up to answer the phone, muttering French curse words as she went to the phone. Allison found a leftover bowl of Mizo soup in the fridge and went to warm it up. That should help.
"Allison? It's Dr. McAsshole on the phone!" said Helene, holding the phone out. Allison shook her head.
"Tell him to go fuck himself!" said Allison. Helene nodded with a devious smile. "ONLY tell him to go fuck himself, Helene! No jokes about his mother!"
Helene frowned. "If you put it that way..." Helene spoke into the phone: "She's right here!" Allison shot a murderous look as Helene handed over the phone.
"You're going to die for this!" she warned, then put her mouth to the receiver. "I'm surprised you called. I thought you'd be nice enough to remember that I can't afford to talk to you!"
Andy from his desk rolled his eyes. "Allison, about last night-"
"-are you apologizing?" Allison asked.
"No, of course not, but I wanted to call and tell you I know how you feel." Allison's jaw dropped.
"Oh, so now you pity me?" Allison yelled.
Andy smacked his forehead. "Oh no, that's not what I-"
"-You are such a jerk!" and with that, Allison hung up the phone. Now...about that Mizo soup...
Meanwhile, Andy threw the phone across the room. He'd meant to apologize! Why did he say he wasn't going to? It was his goddamn ego. He needed to apologize and humble himself before Allison in person. He was such an ego machine! Andy got up and closed the office for the rest of the day. He needed some time to think by himself.
~~~~~
Allison, not having a second thought about the phone call, slipped on a peasant skirt (found in a vintage 60's shop) and a Grateful Dead t-shirt. Not exactly an elegant ensemble, but it would do. Allison planned to unwind by painting in Central Park all afternoon. She grabbed a scarf and wrapped it around her neck several times. She took a pad of disposable paint palettes, a collapsible easel, a few tubes of paint and five brushes, and stuffed them into her duffel bag. Allison caught a bus out to the park and found a seat on a park bench. Unfolding her easel and setting a canvas up, Allison looked for a subject.
Looking around, Allison found a tree with a few buds beginning to appear. Underneath, a little girl in a pink dress read from a child's bible. Now, Allison was an abstract artist, so she elected to give the girl's dress the appearance of bark and the tree trunk a pink cloth-like texture. Allison set to work. She was uninterrupted for an hour and a half. Life was good when her muse whispered into her ear.
Coincidentally, Andy had made his way to Central Park to burn off the steam from this morning. Walking slowly down the path, he slowly observed couples and families taking Sunday walks and having picnics. Andy couldn't help but think that soon, he and Vanessa might be parents. What kind of dad would he be? How many tykes would he even want? Two? Three? Not too many, coming from a family of 5 himself. Andy hated being the oldest of 5, the only boy at that. He always had to be the example of perfection. His poor little sisters Amelia, Amanda, Annabelle, and Aileen could never keep up to their brother. That's why they all rebelled. Andy was always jealous of them. He never had the guts to do what they'd done so easily. Amelia and Amanda disowned their parents and moved away and still shared a flat in San Diego. Annabelle ran away to Canada, found her friend's uncle to live with, and got dual citizenship. Aileen still lived at home (she was still only 15), but she hung out with the emo crowd instead of the preferred prep club set. Andy was proud of his little sisters for standing up and wrote them constantly. But because of so much turmoil in the family, Andy knew he didn't want to have more than two or three kids. But what if Vanessa wanted a lot of children? Probably not, childbirth would ruin her figure and therefore her modeling career. That was a shame. Andy DID want at least one baby.
Andy sighed and wished he could stop thinking about his future. He just wanted to forget the future, forget his fight with Allison, and soak up this nice warm Sunday in the-
Of course, life was screwing him over again. There was Allison, 20 feet in front of him. She was sitting on a park bench painting. She wore a purple skirt with an odd shape to it (his mom wore those kinds of skirts in old pictures he had of her from the late 1960's), a black t-shirt and a frumpy scarf hanging loosely around her neck. Her hair was in her face as she studiously worked on whatever she painted. A little girl underneath a tree suddenly got up and walked at Allison, who stopped painting. Apparently the little girl in pink was her subject.
"Are you painting me, lady?" asked the girl.
Allison smiled. "Yes I am!"
"Are you done yet?" she asked. Allison nodded.
"With your part I am, wanna see?" The girl nodded eagerly. Andy smiled.
"Wow! I look pretty! Thanks, lady! Am I gonna be in a museum?" she asked.
"I wish!" said Allison. Andy chuckled as the girl ran to meet her mother.
"The lady painted me, mommy!" she shouted happily. The mom smiled and waved at Allison, who waved back, then went back to work. Andy observed, Allison had a way with kids. He snuck up behind her and looked over her shoulder as she worked on the detail of the tree. The girl's pink dress was a bark-colored dress, and the pink was now on the tree. A clever idea, and she really did well with it.
"You really captured her," he said. Allison froze. Oh god, what was HE doing here?
"It's rude to look over someone's shoulder," she said coldly. Andy frowned and sat beside her on the bench.
"You've got a lot of talent, you know," he said.
"What the hell do you want?" she snapped, turning to Andy.
"I'm complementing your painting, is that a crime?" asked Andy, his voice rising. Allison looked at her canvas.
"The depth is kinda off," she said. "I guess I'm having a bad day," she said quietly.
"You don't notice it, really," Andy added.
"Is that all?" Allison asked, turning back to Andy.
Andy sighed. "Ally...I'm sorry. I acted like-"
"-a jerk."
"Exactly. I feel like such a-"
"-an asshole?"
"Hey, give me a chance to apologize for myself okay? Look, I'm not used to living at the basic level you do. It's kind of a culture shock; I guess you could put it as. You know what I mean?"
"Your fiancée would probably shrivel up and die if she stepped into my neighborhood. You know she called me a whore and I did kind of get carried away. I felt like I had to defend myself!" said Allison. Andy nodded.
"I apologize for her too. I'm sorry. I am pretty shallow. You're right," Andy said. Allison shook her head.
"No! No, you were just not used to having a maverick in your apartment. I understand. We're in different worlds now," Allison said.
"Can we still be friends?" asked Andy. Allison cringed. Then she shook her head.
"No. I'll tolerate you, but I don't think we're at the 'friend' level yet," said Allison.
"You'll tolerate me?" Andy confirmed. Allison smiled and nodded. Andy smiled in return. God, she's got nice teeth, Andy thought.
His eyes have a nice sparkle, thought Allison.
"I'll tolerate you if you'll tolerate me," Allison bargained.
Andy nodded and laughed. "I'll tolerate you!" he promised. Allison sighed. How would she get her painting home if it was still wet?
"Help me out in getting this home?" she asked. Andy didn't reply, he just grabbed Allison's duffel bag and helped her pack up. Allison carried the artwork, while Andy carried the bag.
Allison wondered how hard it was to tolerate a jerk.
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