Obviously, work ran late today. The boxes piled in the hallway told me that much before I started anything. Although Purvi’s departure is still a week away, I can already feel work ramping up. The invisible rubber band pulling me back, stretching to full capacity, before it snaps and I fly uncontrollably into the seat of Purvi’s job.
On a happier note, I worked late enough to realize the bridal shop was closed. Wait, here’s the learning-curve part that puts me in the top of the bell. I understood that this rule applied to me as well as the rest of the consuming public. So I only drove by and peeked in the window for a glimpse before heading home, gownless for now, but understanding there is silk at the end of the tunnel. Vera Wang and I will be together at last.
As I walk into the house, Kay is preparing for the month of July and bringing out the summer festives. We’ve got silk flowers, picnic tables in ceramic, and don’t forget the sunflower salt ’n’ pepper shakers. Then there’s all the flag memorabilia that makes us look like we’re preparing for a national political convetion. Rhett is following her around whimpering, hoping to get his teeth around the silk dahlia stalks.
“Hi,” Kay says to me as she arranges the silk flowers. “Don’t put your briefcase there.” She points at the basket where I’m usually allowed to place a small remnant of proof that I actually exist. “I’ve reworked the landing spot. We’ll be putting our things for the doorway in this new cabinet.” She comes over and opens it like one of Bob’s Beauties on The Price Is Right. “Ashley’s side,” she says with a flourish of the hand. “Kay’s side.”
“I think you should be looking for another loan rather than another roommate,” I suggest. “Are you thinking someone is going to want to buy half this house, and they’re going to understand the landing spot process? Or the steak knife sharpener versus the cooking knife sharpener? I don’t think you give me nearly enough credit for putting up with you.”
“Me? Living organized is what most people in Silicon Valley do, Ashley. We’re grown-ups. You’re the anomaly here.”
“I refuse to believe I’m the weirdo. I do not spend time buttoning my shirts on the hanger so the hanger will feel good about itself, you know?”
“I think if someone came in and saw the way I live versus that pigsty you call a closet, we’d have little questions as to who has the issues.”
“Oh no, they’d see your Michelin Man down jacket, and I am home-free. That thing should have been thrown out in 1979, all the while apologizing profusely to the ducks. You need another example? I have shoes for all occasions, which means you can invite me to dinner and I’ll wear proper attire. You have shoes for different outdoor functions. Period. And we don’t live in Seattle, Kay. We barely have rain, but you’ve got a super hiking boot for any type of Gore-Tex moment. And running shoes that are grass green? Your combined vintage clothing is probably worth seventy-five cents on eBay.”
“What about the Adam Ant CDs?” Kay lifts an eyebrow and shoots back, “Don’t think I haven’t heard you dancing in your room like a bad, early MTV video.”
Okay, she’s got me there. I definitely don’t want to own up to the ’80s fetish. But girls just wanna have fun. Am I right? Then it dawns on me, and I point at her. “Ambrosia albums. I’ve heard you croon ‘You’re the Biggest Part of Me’ more times than I can count on one hand.”
“At least it’s from my era, and I didn’t have to steal someone else’s. Adam Ant?”
“It was just a few years before my era, okay? So I was mature. Shoot me.”
“You’re not mature for anyone’s era, Ashley.”
“Jimmy Buffet!” I strike again. Rhett starts to bark.
“You’re upsetting the dog,” Kay accuses.
“He just thought we were going to have to hear ‘Margaritaville’ again, and Rhett knows when to protect us, don’tcha, baby?” I say, patting his head.
“Is there a reason you’re in such an interesting mood?”
“Yes, actually. Purvi quit today. I’ll be taking over her job in a week, and right now I’m not fit to take over Rhett’s job. But my gown is here. My real and true Vera Wang gown. So I’m up and down, like a roller coaster, really. It depends on the moment.”
“Need I remind you that you already did Purvi’s job once? Badly.”
“Oh, and my in-laws are coming into town in a few days to finalize heaven knows what on the wedding.”
“Well, Kevin will handle them, right? You just have to worry about Purvi.”
“Wrong. Kevin is in Philadelphia on a job interview.”
Kay shakes her head and sticks the last silk flower into the Styrofoam. “You must wear a Kick Me sign. Is it true, by the way, that you danced in the singles group before I got there?”
“Can someone please tell me why that’s so scandalous? I danced. I didn’t strip, for crying out loud. Y’all need to lighten up, as my crazed sister-in-law would say.”
“It’s because the singles group has always run a certain way, and you’re always trying to pull everyone out of their comfort zone. They like that zone, Ashley. Can’t you respect that? We respect that you dance to the beat of a different drummer.”
“No, I guess I can’t. They’re like a bad happy hour without the booze. Eating and sitting.”
“You’re judgmental.”
“Maybe I am, but I’m not saying anything that the rest of the world isn’t thinking. Since when did church become about sitting on your duff waiting for the next cool experience to come along?”
“Ashley, you’re hardly the great church historian, you know? Your systematic theology is lacking here. Just give it a rest.”
“What’s this?” I pick up a vellum envelope from the new entry table.
“It’s an invitation to your shower. A real wedding shower, no lingerie deal.”
“Where’d it come from?”
“Brea talked to your aunts. It’s all set. You’ll be a bride with actual kitchen goods. Though you’d probably get more use out of the lingerie with your culinary skills.”
“You’re so not helping here!”
“I’m just saying.” Kay lifts her hands in innocent form.
“Didn’t your mom ever tell you if you didn’t have something nice to say . . .”
“My mom told me to take ‘protection’ on my dates, so no, she forgot that one about saying nice things. She was more concerned I didn’t make her a grandmother early on. Not because she saw dishonor in my being a single mother, but because it made her old before her time.”
“Speaking of your mom, did you call that guy Simon back?”
“I told you. I have nothing to say to him,” Kay snaps.
“I thought, at first, maybe the woman was your daughter, but when I saw her, I knew she had to be his wife. Did you have an affair with him?”
“Ashley! You have a filthy mind.”
“What? You’re saying it’s this deep, dark secret. I assume it’s ugly, or it wouldn’t be such a big deal. I watched 90210; I’m not completely naive.”
She stills her hands and sits down. “You thought I had a daughter? Out of wedlock?”
“It crossed my mind,” I admit. “I mean, the guy seemed so nice. I have to say I couldn’t imagine it after I met him, but you were so freaked out about it. And him going on television frightened the heck out of you. So what else could it be? Had to be something ugly, so I let my mind take a little walk through the possibilities.”
Kay’s mouth is still dangling. Apparently I’ve really shocked her. But am I alone here? I doubt it. The world thinks the worst. We’ve lived through a decade of Friends, after all, where friends sleep with each other’s boyfriends, and everyone’s all hunky-dory with it. Yeah, that can happen.
“It’s nothing like that! Did you tell anyone what you thought?”
“Of course not. I just prayed you’d work it out with him and get over it. You might as well tell me. I can watch it on television if I want.”
She stares at me for a long time, and I think it’s about to come out. But no, Kay silences herself and plops a ceramic hot dog on the foyer shelf. People are so strange about their sins. I mean, let it go, you know. It’s not like whatever happened is a way of life for her. She’s confessed it. She’s moved on . . . Well, maybe she hasn’t, but she should.
“I’m taking Rhett for a walk. You know, it might be something more sinister than I’m thinking. What if you murdered his first wife and buried her under the house?” I wink at her while I grab Rhett’s leash. “Or what if you were once a nurse and checked his wife into an institution, then overmedicated her with laudanum?”
“Ashley!”
See? By the time I get through with her, Kay will forgive herself for whatever horrendous thing she did at fourteen. Sheesh, talk about a leash. More like a ball and chain. It was thirty years ago. I hadn’t even put skirts on my head and belted out Donna Summer songs in the mirror yet. Could anything possibly be worse than that?