She's Out of Control Page 8

  Seth steps forward, and I feel his closeness to my toes. As angry as I am, this man moves me like I’m his rag doll. He brings his hands around my face. “I don’t know what I want, but Ashley Wilkes Stockingdale, I care about you and I don’t like to see you treated that way.”

  Which I find really odd, because doesn’t he treat me “that way” too? I don’t have time to think about it. He kisses me in the dead of the November night, and I’m pulled into the moment, but I don’t feel anything. I feel numbness, like someone who’s been hit too many times and ceases to feel the pain.

  Hans is still in the doorway when Seth and I separate, the two of us looking like pathetic high schoolers, kissing on the sidewalk. I can hear Brea chanting in my ears: Never kiss by the garden gate. Love is blind, but the neighbors ain’t.

  9

  As I stand in front of my house in the darkness and watch Seth’s taillights disappear around the corner, I suddenly remember a few words scribbled in my history. When I was in college, there was a poem written in graffiti along the several campus columns I passed on my route home. It was written in chalk but stayed there for years, probably because the janitor was a romantic at heart. The poem read:

  I wish to

  Make a lot of money

  With which to

  Buy her cute shoes.

  So it’s not Yeats, but there’s something about that sentiment that has stuck with me through the years. What is more personal, more romantic, than quality footwear for your loved one? And Seth is never going to buy me shoes, because to him, it’s like buying me jewelry, which he has no use for either. It defies the practical and enters the realm of romance. And romance is one thing he has become an expert at avoiding.

  If you follow this equation to its natural end, he’s never going to marry me because he cannot imagine giving up the practical for the sake of furthering our relationship. He’s satisfied with that red stop sign at each corner of our courtship. And I’m not.

  I’m not. And there it is. Could this be the first time I’ve thought about what I wanted in this relationship?

  Seth supposes that I’ll be happy with our junior high going-steady gig for a lifetime. Marriage gets in the way of his life, and he’s not willing to share that part of him. Giving up Seth is starting to feel like giving up any other unhealthy addiction. I love him, but he might not be the best thing. When Seth kissed me, he wriggled uncomfortably, kind of like the spider the old lady swallowed. I don’t inspire romance in the man; I inspire fear. And that’s just not good enough for me.

  I’m beginning to view the world slightly differently. I can’t help but wonder: If I cleared Seth out of the way, would God bring me something better? Could he bring me something where I didn’t feel so desperate and tentative? I mean, insecurity is not a natural state, is it?

  Kay is in the kitchen making candles when I arrive home, and the house smells like cinnamon-spice-scented wax. She peers up over the deep red liquid she’s pouring. “Did you have fun at Hans’s house?”

  I shrug. “I guess.”

  “Well, that sounds convincing. You should have stayed home and made candles with me. I invited the singles’ group, but they decided to see a movie instead. In the meantime, I’ll be ready for Christmas while they’re scrambling at Macy’s to get the last of the preseason holiday candles.”

  “I’ve decided to buy part of the house,” I blurt, looking straight at Kay. “If that’s still all right, of course.”

  “You have?” She stops pouring wax and thrusts a fist to her hip. “Why? Is this some emotional outburst you’re going to resent tomorrow?”

  “No.” But part of me wonders. “Well, I don’t think so anyway. I’m not backing out, regardless. I’ve waited around long enough, don’t you think? I can’t put my life on hold forever.”

  “What if Friday is about an engagement, Ashley?”

  “What if it’s not? I don’t want to make every decision based on my romantic aspirations. It’s pathetic. Here.” I hand her the contract she gave me weeks ago. I’ve been carrying it around in my purse while I contemplated the future. “I’m serious this time. It’s signed. We can have it notarized tomorrow after church.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “I’m so sure. And I haven’t told you how appreciative I am of you, that you would offer it. You’re a fabulous friend, Kay. This house will force me to keep the job at Gainnet and make it work until I’m general counsel. I need real motivation. I seriously need to stop living in this dream world.”

  “You’re one driven person, Ashley. Does this mean you’re calling Dr. Kevin?”

  “It means I’ve given up on romance as an escape route. Whenever I feel a craving coming on, I’m going to run to the Bloomie’s shoe sale and avoid men like the plague. If you still love the shoes when the credit card bill comes, you know true satisfaction. The idea that I’ll ever feel that way about a man is laughable.”

  “You could get out your Bible,” Kay suggests. “It sounds like your theology is a bit off, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

  “Are you about to give me the contentment sermon? Because I could throw it right back for the granite countertops and travertine bathrooms, you know. Your lack of contentment is feeding mine.” I smile, and we start to giggle.

  Kay goes back to pouring the blood-red mixture. “Touché.”

  “Ah, I’m sorry, Kay. I don’t mean to jump at you. You deserve the kitchen of your dreams.” There’s pumpkin-spice bread on the counter, and it’s calling my name. I’m trying to do the Atkins diet, but it’s the holidays. And Kay bakes. And the flesh is weak. “Can I have some of this?”

  “Go ahead.” She offers me a knife and a napkin. “So what did Hans think of Seth?”

  “Doesn’t think he’s worth my career,” I answer with my mouth full. “Hans has his own motives though, since he still wants me to fly to Taiwan on Tuesday. But I worked it out. I’m going Saturday morning.”

  “You don’t think Seth is going to propose, do you?” The way she asks the question is more like, You’re not inane enough to believe Friday’s the day, are you?

  “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason, but I don’t get your boyfriend. Let’s put it that way.”

  I gobble down the last crumbs of Kay’s mouthwatering spice bread, ignoring any and all Atkins ambitions, and say good night. I walk into my bedroom, which is strewn with the many outfits I debated before I left tonight. I look in the mirror over my dresser, and there’s a photo of Seth and me, dressed up for the Harvest Fair at church in our jeans and plaid shirts. I take the photo down and study it. I’m struck by the thought that we don’t look happy. We look uncomfortable. Maybe even a bit suspicious.

  I’ve wasted nine months and how many great outfits on the wrong man. Arin is back now, and perhaps that’s God’s timing. Maybe she’ll inspire romance in the man. As for me, I’m a bigger person for about two seconds, then the claws come out. I hope their babies look like rain-forest monkeys and call Arin back to her previous missionary lifestyle.

  I look around my room at the crisp white crown molding and the bright sunflower paint against the mix of antiques and Pottery Barn furniture. You know what? I have great taste. This room makes me happy. Seth just makes me nervous.

  That night after my brother’s wedding, when Seth came and swept me off my feet, I thought it would last forever. Now I’m pretty sure that nothing lasts forever except Jesus, and in the earthly realm, I’m better off with the solid foundation that is Palo Alto real estate. Authentic woodwork, and original hardwood floors, and a desirable zip code—be content in all circumstances, as Paul reminds us in the Bible. So I flop on my bed and put my hands behind my head. I’m content, I’m content, I tell myself until I fall asleep.

  Friday, after a day of not really being at work mentally and getting ready for Taiwan the next day, I arrive at Seth’s condominium anxious for my surprise, but cautious. I’m very cautious, unsure of what my answer will be if the
question does turn out to be about marriage. The last time Seth “surprised” me was on Valentine’s Day, when I got a Lucite paperweight with a Scripture quote written inside it. Now my heart is pounding as I knock at the door. I’m dressed like I’m ready for anything, in an Ann Taylor tweed skirt with a chocolate suede blazer, so I can be considered casual or elegant depending upon what the moment calls for.

  Seth answers the door wearing holey jeans and a Stanford sweat-shirt. Not a good sign, and I feel my smile evaporate.

  “Hi,” I say as enthusiastically as I can manage.

  “Hi, yourself. Are you excited?” Seth asks.

  “Should I be?”

  “I think so. I waited weeks to find you the perfect match, and I’ve found it.”

  “That’s very cryptic.”

  “All the better to surprise you with, my lady.” He takes my hand, and helps me slip out of my suede jacket, which he hangs up in the closet.

  “Is anyone else here yet?”

  “Brea and John were waiting for the babysitter to get there. Kay’s on her way. I also invited Sam, Kevin, and Arin. I hope you don’t mind.”

  I think my heart just stopped. “You invited Kevin and Arin?”

  “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

  “Since I don’t know what the surprise is, I guess I don’t know the answer to that question.”

  The doorbell rings. It’s Sam. Sam is big, burly, and constantly worried about where his next meal is coming from. Especially when he doesn’t have to pay for it. “Hey, Ash.” He nods a chin my way. If he was smaller, I’d check him for furry feet to see if he was a hobbit. “What’s for dinner, big guy?” Sam asks Seth.

  “I’m ordering pizzas.”

  Half of us are on Atkins, but I don’t mention that. Let’s all just have a gluten fiesta because I have a feeling carbs are going to be the least of my problems tonight.

  Kevin is the next to arrive, and he’s got a bouquet of peach-colored roses. “For the guest of honor.” He holds them out toward me and winks as I take them. Our gazes catch, and I pull mine away. Like the good, almost-engaged girl I am.

  “Thank you,” I say, as I take the roses, careful to avoid further eye contact. “You must own stock in a florist.” Eye contact is very dangerous with a man who looks like Hugh Jackman and talks like a romantic lead. Kevin fulfills all my romantic fantasies, but none of my practical realities. He’s too perfect, and I think he’s looking for a breeder rather than a mate. This scares me and my astounding SAT scores: Chivalry is to men in Silicon Valley like manners are to the straight guy on TV.

  Kay comes to the door next, and she’s wearing a dress. Go figure. I never knew she owned one. She takes one of her pumpkin-spice loaves and hands it to Seth. “I thought you might like this for dessert.”

  “Forget dessert, breakfast for me. You all get your own,” Seth says, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He is really in his element here, and whatever he has in store for me, it has him giddy. I haven’t spent much time around a giddy Seth, and it’s disconcerting, but kinda cute too.

  Brea and John finally arrive, and she looks like she’s expecting an engagement ring. She’s wearing Lilly maternity cords and a hand-painted top around her bulging belly. As usual, she’s gorgeous. Arin hasn’t shown, and most likely she’s too busy flirting with some non-believer somewhere to grace us with her presence.

  “Hey!” Brea’s smile dies the moment she notices Seth’s sweatshirt. “Seth, are you dressed for the occasion?”

  He looks down at the Cardinal-red letters emblazoned across his chest. “I’m dressed for anything. Stanford rules!” He lifts his arms up. “Okay, everyone, I know you’re dying to know why I’ve asked you all here.” He does a little dance with his legs. “I can’t wait to tell you!”

  Seth reaches for me and looks into my eyes. “Ashley, we’ve been dating for some time now, and in that time, I’ve heard you mention more than once that the quiet of your house is driving you crazy. That you longed for some companionship and excitement.”

  I shake my head slightly to imply the rudeness aimed at Kay here, but Seth doesn’t get it. He just keeps blabbering.

  “Come on, what’s this about, Greenwood?” John asks.

  Yeah, what’s this about, Greenwood?

  “Okay, wait here.” Seth runs to the back room of his condo, and comes out with—no, it is definitely not a black velvet box. It has two eyes, a wet nose, floppy ears, and it’s wearing a blue bow. “I looked forever to find you a purebred boxer; that’s why I had to cancel the last time, but then I found this guy at the pound, and he has a little boxer in him. He’s part terrier, too, and they assured me he’d be no bigger than fifteen pounds.” He looks at Kay. “I hope this is all right, Kay, but I just knew Ashley needed someone to keep her company.”

  Someone, Seth. Someone. And what’s Kay, raw beef?

  He thrusts the puppy at me. “What do you think?”

  Searching for words here. “I don’t know if I can take a pet. I’m leaving for Taiwan tomorrow,” I stammer.

  “That’s the best part. I’ll take him when you’re gone. This is a no-brainer, Ash. You’ll see.” He hands me the puppy, and I feel the tears welling as I hold this precious puppy. He’s warm and quivering slightly. His sad, brown eyes look lost and abandoned, and I see he’s familiar with pain too. Maybe we have more in common than I thought. It takes everything within me not to burst into tears. A dog. He bought me a dog. Our commitment is not marriage, but duel custody of a puppy.

  Kevin comes besides me, puts the flowers aside, grabs my hand and squeezes, and I feel a tear escape. No, no, please don’t show me any kindness. I will definitely lose it. Brea knows me well, and that’s why she won’t look at me.

  I pick up the puppy, and he licks my face and settles into the crook of my arm. I wish everyone wasn’t here staring at me for my reaction because I want to take this dog and just be done with the whole human aspect of my life. I cuddle close against him, trying to forget where I am.

  “He’s gorgeous,” I finally say, and everyone breaks into applause, which scares my little puppy and I tighten my grip so he’ll know he’s safe.

  Brea’s eyes are filled with liquid, and she’s shaking her head. John is holding her by the elbow. I fear for Seth. If she had a blunt object, he might really be in danger here. She moves closer to Seth, with John at her heel. “Did you really buy Ash a dog without asking her?” she demands.

  “I adopted it from the pound. Isn’t he perfect? Look, they already love each other.”

  The puppy and I are clinging to each other for life, unsure of the foreignness surrounding us. Kevin approaches me again. “The dog is sweet, Ashley. The kids at the hospital will love him if you ever want to bring him by.”

  I look at Kevin and feel tears running down my cheeks.

  “I think the puppy needs some fresh air.” Kevin opens the door and yanks me out onto the walkway.

  I can’t speak for a moment, then I look at the dog, and my true feelings burst forth. “How could I be so stupid?”

  Kevin’s jaw tightens. “Why do assume it’s you, Ashley?”

  “I should have known. Why didn’t I know, Kevin?”

  He places his hand upon my cheek, and wipes away the tears. “Because sometimes it’s easier to pretend.” He picks up the puppy. “Let’s go back in. Don’t let him see you fall apart.”

  I nod and straighten my shoulders, opening the door. Kevin deposits the puppy in the foyer, and waves good-bye, offering me a last look of support . . . and disgust.

  “Don’t you want to stay for pizza?” Seth asks him.

  “No, and Ashley’s on Atkins; order her a salad.” With that, Kevin leaves and I wish I were going with him.

  Brea and John are next. “It’s a cute puppy, Ashley,” Brea says quietly. “Call me.” Those are her actual words. But what she’s really just said is, “Kill him, Ashley, and then call me and tell me the grisly details.”

  Kay looks disgusted too. “See ya at
home. Considering our hard-wood floors, I don’t know where you’re going to put that thing.” The door slams behind her.

  So now, it’s just Seth, me, the puppy, and Sam waiting for free pizza. You know, I guess I knew it wasn’t an engagement party, but why did it have to be a public humiliation in front of everyone I’m close to? I could have done without that. I hand Seth the puppy.

  “Thanks, but I don’t think I can keep him,” I say, sorry I’m taking my anger out on the poor innocent animal.

  Seth has rejection written all over his face. I want to ask him how it feels. At least all his friends weren’t here to witness it like mine were. Only Sam, and his sole concern is extra sausage. I exit without my Ann Taylor suede jacket, but with my dignity intact. For the moment.

  10

  I’m haunted as I drive away from Seth’s, not just by guilt and Seth’s devastated expression, but by those big, brown puppy eyes peering up at me and the immediate connection we made. It’s as if the dog’s licking my cheek sealed the deal. I can still see his white socks against the rust and black of his coloring. He is so tiny. He needs me. That is so my dog. I turn my car around on a dime and squeal back to Seth’s door. I can hear my heels clicking as I run up the walkway, which only reminds me how great I dressed for this nonoccasion. What a waste.

  I pound on the door, and Seth opens it with crossed arms. His bright blue eyes are clouded, and I feel like he can barely look at me. It’s as though I have rejected his firstborn.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” I say. “Can I have my dog now?”

  “Oh, so it’s your dog now?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t want to give him to someone who doesn’t appreciate him.”

  But my puppy comes bounding out and nips at my ankles, and I pick him up and place his warm face against my cheek. “See, he knows who he belongs to. Hewo baby.”

  “Do you want to know his name?” Seth asks with his hands on his hips.