Ashley, did you lose this?” Seth, dressed in an Armani tuxedo, holds up a Marc Jacobs pump. It’s red-and-black striped. “It will fit you, won’t it?”
Ashley is breathless with anticipation and nibbles on her lower lip to fight the bubbling pressure of the moment. “I . . . I don’t know. If it’s mine, I mean. Where did you find it?”
“I found it on my steps last night. Try it, Ashley. There’s only one way for us to know . . .” Seth’s brilliant blue gaze meets hers, and Ashley swoons to the rich tapestry chaise behind her. “The woman who fits this shoe is meant to be mine. Somehow, I just know it.” In his other hand, Seth lifts a dazzling princess-cut canary diamond. “Will you marry me, Ashley?”
Ashley can’t remove her eyes from the pump. “Where’s the other one?”
“What do you mean, Ashley?”
“I mean, where’s the other shoe?”
“This pump is a Marc Jacobs original. Custom made for my wife! It’s just symbolic, not really meant for wear.”
“Surely Marc didn’t make just one shoe. There must be another around here somewhere. Symbolic or not, one shoe just doesn’t make sense.” Ashley rises up from the chaise looking frantically about her.
“The ring, Ashley.” Seth holds the ring out toward her, but she places her foot into the size-9 pump and twists her ankle about. “So it is yours. Ashley, did you hear me? Will you—”
“I want the other one, Seth! Where is the other shoe?”
“I don’t know, Ashley. It doesn’t matter where the other shoe is. Do you want to be my wife, or don’t you?”
“Well, I do. But I want this shoe, too! Is that so wrong?”
“Ashley, wake up! You’re having a nightmare.” Kay is shaking me. And I am aware, with distinct displeasure, that I’ve spent the night on the sofa with a spiked heel clutched tightly against my chest. I’m too old to spend the night on the sofa, and I feel every curvature, every imprint of the Pottery Barn special in my hindquarters, not to mention the little divot from the pump.
“Kay, what’s going on? What time is it?” I roll over and rub the kink out of my neck, tossing the shoe on the floor.
“It’s seven. You need to get up or you’ll be late for work.”
My laptop is sitting open on the coffee table. “I worked all night,” I explain, as much for myself as Kay.
“I hope your boss appreciates your hard work. I thought these hours went the way of the dot-com implosion.” Kay is setting out her Thanksgiving tchotchkes.
There’s a new chill in the air, signaling that fall is here. But not really. Not until Kay brings out the ceramic turkeys, the wax, leaf-shaped candles, and the inevitable cornucopia filled with tiny, colorful gourds. Kay’s candles are really the only fall leaves we see in the Bay Area. This is California: evergreen country. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Your boss called this morning. Said you left your coat at the restaurant, and he’ll bring it to you at work.”
“My coat. I forgot all about it. That ought to tell you how the evening went.”
“Truly. When you bought that coat, I thought you’d be buried in it, and for the price, you probably should be.” Kay smirks and crosses her arms for a brief moment. Kay and I couldn’t be more different. The last time she bought a coat was when those Michelin-man goose- down numbers were in, oh, about 1978 or so. It’s that pale, sickly navy color that we wore in grade school, but out she goes to work in it every day like she’s mushing the dogs to her office. Kay loves that down coat. You have to admire her loyalty.
“What did you do last night?” I ask while stretching and feeling every one of my thirty-one years.
“Besides answering Miss Popularity’s phone, you mean?” Kay dusts off a pilgrim salt-and-pepper set.
“Do you want me to get my own line? I keep asking, and you keep saying it’s a waste.”
“No, I’m just giving you a hard time because I know it bugs you. Arin’s back in town, by the way. She wanted to know how things were going, and to say thank you for leading her old beau to the Lord.”
“Arin’s back?” Panic. Arin, the size-2 diva/missionary that Seth once had a crush on. Somehow I sense that he could be in danger of falling for her all over again, if given the slightest opportunity.
“Yep. Arin’s back.”
“Does Seth know she’s back?”
“How would I know that?”
“Well, what did Arin say exactly?”
“That she was back in town. That she’d talked to Kevin, or Dr. Novak, as I like to call him,” Kay announces in a soap-opera tone. “And that she wants to get together with you.”
“Did you tell her about Seth and me?”
“What’s to tell?”
What indeed? “Is she still so thin?”
“I couldn’t see her on the phone, Ashley. I imagine she’s still thin, she was telling me about all the kayaking she did up the river in Costa Rica, and that she learned to balance a jug of water on her head.”
“Isn’t that in Africa where they do that?”
“I’m just telling you what she said.”
“Is she coming to Bible study this week?”
“She said she’d try to make it, and that she missed us all while she was down there, but she was very anxious to speak to you.”
“That’s what my dream meant!” I exhale and place my hand to my forehead.
“What dream?”
“The missing Marc Jacobs pump. It’s Arin, and she’s come back to claim Seth. The striped heel belongs to her. It fits her, not me and my big fat size-9 foot! I’m the ugly stepsister!”
“What on earth are you talking about?” Kay puts down a rust-colored leaf and stares at me. “No, wait. I don’t want to know.” She holds up her palms in surrender. “I’m starting to understand you, and this makes me nervous because no one should really understand you unless they need mental help. It’s Brea’s job to understand you. I just have to live with you.”
“I gotta go!” I rush off the couch and into the bathroom. Turning on the shower head, I wait until the warm steam fills the room and step into the sweltering tile cubicle. Okay, Lord. I know this is about Your timing and all, but do you really mean for me to live here forever? I’ve been so patient. Nine months, Lord? Three years, really. You couldn’t wait ten more years to bring back Arin? What if Seth looks at her and all his old feelings come back? Remember? That sad little crush he had, making him even older and balder than his years? I know the crush was short, but it was intense, Lord. So what is this about?
God answers with the steaming shot of water out of the shower. Ah, the silent treatment. I should be used to it by now.
There’s a pounding on the bathroom door. “Ashley, telephone!” Kay shouts.
I towel dry and find the cordless phone on the just-waxed hard-wood hallway. “Hello.”
“It’s Seth, Ashley.” My towel-wrapped self slinks to the floor.
“Hi, Seth.” His voice calms me and reminds me that I have dated him longer than any other woman. Seth and I were meant to be. The shoe dream was just a little nightmare, a little case of preengagement jitters, nothing more. Yet, there’s a niggling of discomfort. “Is everything okay, Seth?”
“I can’t do Friday night this week after all. Maybe next Friday.”
He sounds disappointed. But not nearly disappointed enough. “Why not?” My tone doesn’t even try to hide my emotion.
“I . . . I . . .” He’s stammering. Not a good sign. “I can’t do it because your gift won’t be ready yet.”
“It’s only seven in the morning. Did the store call you? How do you know my gift isn’t ready?”
“What store? No, Ashley. It’s nothing like that. We’ll do it next week, okay? I want you to be really surprised.”
“I might be going to Taiwan next week, so I hope I’ll be here for the big surprise. What about Saturday night with my boss, is that off too?”
“I can still do that,” Seth tells me. “Your gift just isn’t ready, that’s all. And I want everyone to see you get it, so I’m inviting friends. Okay?”
I’m picturing myself as the ring slides onto my finger. I’m envisioning the awed look on every friend’s face. “I’d love that. But I can’t just show up on Saturday, Seth. Not without my . . .” I catch myself just in time. I’m praying for some of God’s peace right now. Granted, none of it is deserved.
You know, I’m just not okay if God’s will isn’t the same as mine in this one little area. I can’t help it. It’s not just about being married. I’m over that whole fiasco. It’s just that I am desperately in love with this man, even though I should know better. But when I see him looking at a little kid at Sunday school with his tender eyes, or taking in another out-of-work dot-commer, he just takes my breath away. This man has a heart of gold, and I want to embrace it for the rest of my life.
“Can’t show up without your what?” Seth asks.
“My boyfriend,” I say enthusiastically. “You know how Hans is. I want him to know I’m taken.”
Seth laughs. “Of course I’ll come and protect you. I promised Arin I’d help her move some stuff on Saturday afternoon, but we’ll be done by then.”
“Arin?” I croak.
“She’s back in town. She says she’s dying to talk to you, so you should call her if you get the chance. She called here looking for you last night.”
I’ll just bet she did. “Why can’t her Dr. Kevin help her move?” I ask, putting a bit of emphasis on the word doctor.
“He’s on call this weekend. Arin was thrilled you led him to the Lord, by the way. She had nothing but praise for you. I told her I knew you had a missionary heart in you all along. Under that Ann Taylor exterior.”
My missionary heart, as Seth puts it, is about ready to explode. “Did you two talk about anything else besides me?”
“Just your present. Arin loves the idea.”
“You told Arin about my surprise?”
“It’s a surprise for you, Ashley. Not Arin. You sound like you’re disappointed someone else knows, but they’ll all take part in the celebration afterwards. You just wait.” He’s nearly panting, like I should be excited he’s talking to the size-2 blonde he had a crush on. Before she dumped him for the rain forest trip.
“I’ve got to get to work. So will I see you at Bible study this week?” I ask.
“Absolutely. I’m picking up Arin. She doesn’t have a car now that she’s back in town.”
I can stand no more. “Seth, why are you picking up Arin? She found a way to get herself on a free trip to Costa Rica. I think she can get across town.”
“Are you jealous, Ashley?”
Now, what kind of stupid question is that? “I just think if you’re dating Arin, it’s one thing to pick her up. If you’re dating me, it’s another. If you two show up together at Bible study, it sends a message.” Of course, I regret this statement immediately. Because I sound whiny and pathetic, and even if I am, I don’t want to sound like it.
“You and I have been dating for nine months. I can’t have friends?”
“Of course, Seth.” Sure you can have friends, as long as they’re not size-2 blondes with fluttery lashes and big, innocent eyes. “I’ve got to get to work.”
“Don’t be like this, Ash. Arin and I are just friends. You’re not the jealous type. What’s up with this?”
Does he really want the evaluation? Or just for me to shut up? “Friendship wasn’t what you wanted with Arin ten months ago, Seth,” I accuse, hating myself in the process.
“You went out to dinner with the German Romeo last night. That’s okay, but my giving a sister-in-Christ a ride to Bible study has ulterior motives?”
“Hans is my boss. And don’t pull that sister-in-Christ business with me.”
“But you trust yourself with Hans. You just don’t trust me with Arin.”
No, quite frankly I don’t trust any man with Arin. I’ve seen her operate. I inhale deeply. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry. I’ll see you later. I have a patent to rush.”
“Fine. I’ll call Arin and tell her to find herself another ride to Bible study. Maybe she can hitch a ride with your ex-boyfriend, Dr. Kevin Novak.” Seth clears his throat dramatically. “Oh, but he’s Arin’s ex, too, isn’t he? Hmm. It seems I’m not the one with the friend/ex issue here, am I?”
Grrr. “Seth, that’s not fair. Kevin was never my boyfriend.”
“Look, I don’t want to fight. It’s way too early in the morning, and this is a ridiculous fight, Ashley. You either trust me or you don’t. You know how I feel.”
No, I really don’t. I haven’t heard “I love you.” I’ve heard things like, “You’re very special to me,” or “We have such a great bond and friendship. And my personal favorite: “You’re the only woman I know like you.” Note to males: None of these mean a thing, because we women know you are intentionally avoiding the three little words we really want you to say.
“Maybe we can do lunch one day this week,” I offer, my white flag waving limply over the phone line.
“That would be nice.”
We say good-bye. Gone is my thrill over the “surprise.” Life will never be what I want it to be. Perhaps my expectations are too high. Perhaps any expectations are too high.
I know one thing. I’m buying half of Kay’s house. I want something of my own, and if it’s a dash of granite with 1920s plumbing and a hefty mortgage, I’m fine with that for now. A baby would take away from my clothing budget, anyway.