JESSIE
4:35 P.M.
I am standing in our new pink marble ladies’ room, trying to decide if (1) pink marble is quirky or tacky and (2) my makeup is cute or tacky. Can I pull off red lipstick? The Nats of the world can pull off red lipstick. She has that shiny, dark brown hair and glowing slightly tanned skin, and (most important) a personality that says, “Fuck, yeah, I wear red lipstick.”
I’m more “barely there” beige, possibly an “oh so subtle” pink. I lean in to my reflection to debate.
Nope, can’t pull it off. I grab a Kleenex and wipe off the red as Nat pops into the doorway, looking super cute in her bright red dress and matching lipstick. “Your computer has been beeping off the hook. I think it’s your Skype, so I assume it’s Kevin.”
“Okay, thanks,” I tell her.
She walks over to me. “How come you’re not wearing the lipstick?”
I shrug sheepishly. “Not my style.”
“Don’t be silly. I wear it all the time.”
“Yeah, you do. And it looks great on you. But women like me…” My sentence trails off as I look in the mirror again. “I don’t know. I’m already a little out of my comfort zone tonight. Let’s not push it.”
Nat furrows her brow. “You okay?”
No, I’m not okay. I wish I could wear red lipstick. I wish I was that woman. But I’m not—I’m a big phony. I’m an accountant who is pretending she can own and run a business, and I’m acting (meaning pretending!) like this is a great idea. I’m a woman who wears knee-length dark blue dresses, not short red ones. Keeps the same shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair that she’s had since college, because I would never have the nerve to get Nat’s “I’m fierce” pixie cut. I’m a woman who never gets the Giovannis of the world. So we make ourselves happy with the Kevins.
“Yeah,” I lie. “I’m just a little nervous.”
“You just sank your life savings into this place. If you weren’t a little nervous, I’d be worried about you.”
I pull out my glossy beige lipstick. “Thanks.”
“Stop,” Nat says cheerfully. “I have a thought.” She runs out of the bathroom, then reappears less than a minute later with her makeup bag. “I just got one of those free-with-purchase lipsticks that would look great on you.” She pulls out a black plastic tube, opens it, and twists it up to reveal a dark purple lipstick.
“Purple?” I react. “No, no, no. I don’t wear purple.”
“Let’s just try it,” Nat says, getting right up to my face so she can swipe the lipstick onto my lips. She pulls back and looks me over. “Nice. One more thing to make it pop, though.” Nat pulls out another, thinner black tube, and opens it to reveal a liner pencil in the same shade of purple. She begins drawing studiously. “Let’s just open those lips up, give you a little pouty Brigitte Bardot thing.” After another thirty seconds, Nat pulls back to examine her work. “Perfect. Take a look.”
I turn to the mirror to see my reflection. “Huh. Who knew I could wear purple? It’s cool. It’s, like, it’s not exactly me, but it’s kind of a cooler version of me.”
Nat squints at me a bit. “So that’s good, right?”
“It’s awesome,” I assure her. “I need to buy those. What’s the color called?”
“Curious Cabernet,” Nat says, handing me the lipstick and matching liner pencil. “It’s fate, I tell you.”
I wave my hands. “I couldn’t. That brand’s expensive.”
“Don’t be silly. Like I said, it was a freebie,” Nat reminds me, pushing the lipstick and liner into my hands. “Now go call back your boyfriend, show him what he’s missing tonight, and meet me at the bar.”
* * *
A minute later, I am in the back office, waiting on my computer for Kevin to pick up. He clicks on after the third ring.
It’s the middle of the night in Germany, but I can see when he answers that his lights are on. “Hey, just returning all of your calls. Did I wake you?” I whisper.
“No,” he says, slurring a little. “I actually just got home from celebrating. I’ve been promoted to management accountant.”
Management accountant? I didn’t even know he wanted to be a management accountant. “Wait, so you’re coming home early?” I ask him, confused.
“Not exactly. The job’s in Copenhagen. I’m flying up to see the offices tomorrow morning. You should hop on a plane and come meet me. Copenhagen this time of year is supposed to be magical.”
I’m stunned. For a bunch of reasons. “Obviously, I can’t come now. We open the bar tonight,” I stammer out.
Kevin smiles warmly. “Oh, that’s right. How’s it going? I’m sorry to miss it.”
“It hasn’t actually opened yet, we don’t open until five,” I tell him quickly. “So I don’t understand. How long will you be in Copenhagen?”
Kevin pauses. (Damn it. Here it comes.) “I’ve been offered a contract for three years.”
“What do you MEAN three years?”
“Minimum,” Kevin says.
“Minimum?!” I shake my head. “And you’re telling me this now? Less than an hour before opening night…”
“Shitty timing on my part,” Kevin says quickly, and it occurs to me that maybe he didn’t intentionally just ambush me. “I’m sorry. I was just excited, and I didn’t think it through. Let’s talk about it tomorrow. You go do you tonight. I’m proud of you. Have a great time.”
I’m blinking, and slightly shaking my head. I want to get up and start pacing. But then I’d move out of my computer’s camera range, so I stay seated. Finally I ask, in a seething voice that surprises me, “What about us?”
“It’s an amazing offer,” Kevin tells me. “Tons of money. We could get married here and start having babies right away. And you could stay home with them, just like you’ve always wanted. Can you imagine what an amazing opportunity it would be for a child to grow up in different places around the world?”
Copenhagen. I’m not even completely sure where Copenhagen is. I mean, I know it’s in Denmark, I’m not an idiot, but if I had to point to it on the map I could just as easily hit Sweden.
“So what do you say?” Kevin says, smiling warmly. “You wanna get married?”
Wow. I pause. Look down at my desk, thinking. Realize my tongue is thrusting itself against the back of my top teeth. Do I want to get married?
Three months ago, when we were looking at every house imaginable, and I was worried Kevin was getting cold feet and about to leave me, I would have died for this moment. But now …
Now I feel nauseated. “You knew this was a permanent move before you left, didn’t you?” I suddenly realize.
“No,” Kevin insists.
I narrow my eyes at him. “I think you did.”
Kevin looks down, and I see him take a deep breath. “I will admit, I thought there was a chance. That’s why I was so nervous about buying a house.”
“And yet you didn’t tell me,” I say, and another puzzle piece falls into place. “Because you were thinking about leaving me.”
Kevin’s eyes dart to his left, and I know that’s exactly what happened.
I shake my head. “You bastard.”
“Don’t get like this. I had a few moments when I wasn’t sure, but that’s normal. I’m sure now. I want to marry you.”
“You know what? I’m gonna go,” I say, “because now I’m the one who’s not sure. And you’re not going to call or Skype me for the rest of the night.”
“Jess—”
“No,” I interrupt, slightly raising my voice. “Tonight is my night, and you’re not stealing it from me. I worked my ass off for it, and I deserve it. I will call you when I’m ready.”
“Jessie…”
I roll my mouse to click Off and immediately shut my laptop.
Then, in a moment of self-care I didn’t know I had in me, I click on my cell phone and block all of Kevin’s numbers.
I open my top drawer, pull out a mirrored compact, then check my lipstick.
Purple. Nat’s right. It is perfect.
And I’m sure as fuck done with being beige.