by Alice Wasser
Donna gave me a look that was some combination of pity and contempt. I could tell that I wasn’t going to be able to convince her that Jake is completely harmless, and that the whole thing is entirely innocent. I mean, does getting engaged mean that I can’t speak to any man ever again? That seems a bit ridiculous.
Donna was completely overreacting.
May 28:
Sam and I carpooled to work this morning. We were doing that every morning for a while, but he’s been working late a lot the last month and he says he doesn’t want me to have to wait around. Not really really late, but he’s definitely been at the office well past six, which is late as far as I’m concerned. And once even past seven last week, which I think is practically criminal.
(I have a cushy job.)
“That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” he said, when he came home exhausted.
Anyway, he promised that he didn’t have any late meetings or anything today so we drove in together this morning, which afforded the opportunity for several delicious red light kisses. He told me to meet him at the Computer Helpdesk area at 5:30. When I arrived, he was sitting in front of one of the computers, working. He looked so cute and focused, staring at the screen in deep concentration, his palm on the mouse. There was another guy in the room named Karl, who I’ve met a few times before.
As I came into the room, I heard Sam say, “That asshole…”
I didn’t think he had seen me. I came over and put my hands on his shoulders. He jumped slightly in surprise and turned to look at me. He flashed me a weary smile. “Hi, Millie.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting in a chair next to him.
“Goddamn Jake Winston,” he muttered, looking back at the computer screen.
I froze. What was he talking about? Did he know about Jake and me?
(Not that there was anything to know.)
“Sorry, Millie,” he said. “I know he’s your buddy from school but he’s just been such a pain in the ass. He’s treating us like we’re his personal slaves or something.” Sam turned to Karl, “Listen to this: ‘Hey Sammy, I know it’s late but I need you to update some software on my computer ASAP.’ I like how he calls me ‘Sammy,’ like he’s my buddy or something. Who the hell does he think he is?”
“I know, what a dick,” Karl agreed. “He made me drop everything I was doing and come help him yesterday.”
“I was already here past seven last Wednesday installing crap for him,” Sam said. So that explained his really late night last week. “Why can’t he do anything himself? Or at least wait till the morning?”
“He’s too important,” Karl said. “Obviously.”
Sam looked back at the computer screen and sighed. “I really, really don’t want to do this.” He rubbed his temples with the balls of his hands. “But if I don’t, he’s going to complain to my boss.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “I’m really sorry, Millie. Can you wait for me?”
“Sure,” I said. Obviously I didn’t really want to hang around work, but I didn’t want Sam to get in trouble. Plus I had no other way to get home.
“Aw, don’t worry about it,” Karl spoke up. “I’ll take care of it for you. You go home. You’ve been here late practically every day this week.”
Sam frowned. “You sure?”
“No problem,” Karl said. “Jake doesn’t care who comes anyway. He’s just going to take off as soon as I get there.”
Sam thanked Karl and we headed out to the car. Sam didn’t say anything else negative about Jake, but just the fact that he said anything was surprising. Sam isn’t the kind of person who bad-mouths people behind their backs. Jake must have been really pissing him off.
The truth is, it doesn’t seem like anyone likes Jake very much at work, which I find really confusing. The guy is just oozing charisma and he’s not hard on the eyes either. Plus he’s outgoing. In my opinion, he is the epitome of what everyone likes. Yet nobody seems to like him. Not anyone whose opinion I respect, anyway.
(Everyone I know likes Sam a lot.)
I suppose that you don’t become a junior executive before age 40 by being a nice guy. I mean, deep down, I know that Jake is a good guy. But I can see how being forceful and assertive doesn’t make you friends.
I am neither forceful nor assertive. Another piece of evidence that I’m never going to get to the top and will probably never ever get my own damn office. Which is too bad, because I would love to actually work in a room with a window someday.
May 30:
One of our local cinemas was having a Pixar double feature, so Sam and I went to see the movies Up and The Incredibles.
We go to a lot of movies. I love movies and so does he, so that works out well. I’m not that tall and I still remember how happy I was when movie theaters started to be built with stadium seating. Finally I could see movies without someone’s head in the way. It was a wonderful thing.
I’m sure when Sam was a teenager, this wasn’t an issue for him, since he’s probably just under six feet tall. But since he’s in a wheelchair now, his options for seating in a theater are more limited. Or I should say, our options, since we’re obviously going to sit together. The multiplex we usually go to has stadium seating, and in the middle of the theater are the handicapped seats. I’ll generally sit in one of those seats and Sam will park his wheelchair next to me.
I have to admit, it’s a little closer than I’d like. If I could sit anywhere, I’d probably sit at least three rows back. But it’s not awful. Actually, it’s fun being closer to the screen. It’s more exciting, like we’re inside the movie. But it would be nice to have some flexibility.
(Also, one time we were going to a really popular movie on its opening night and by the time we got to the theater, all the handicapped seats were taken by people who were obviously not disabled. And the people taking them up were totally uncool about giving up their seats. I’m sure we could have whined to an usher, but we ended up just sitting apart.)
Anyway, we didn’t have this problem with the Pixar double feature. For reasons unknown to me, the double feature didn’t start until seven o’clock, so obviously there weren’t a whole lot of young children in the theater. And apparently, there aren’t a huge number of adults who want to watch two Pixar movies that have both been on television multiple times.
The first movie that came on was Up. For those of you who have not seen this movie, it starts out with this sort of sappy intro about a couple that gets married and grows old together. It sounds silly, but it was actually quite touching. I found myself tearing up, all the while feeling foolish for crying during a cartoon about balloons. Then I glanced over at Sam and to my surprise, he had pulled off his glasses and was rubbing his eyes. He kept his arm around my shoulders for most of the movie.
I brought it up to him several hours later, when we were driving home. “Hey, were you crying during Up?” I teased him, poking him in the arm.
“Of course not,” he said. “Don’t be silly.”
“Liar,” I said. “I saw you wiping your eyes.”
“All right, all right,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “It was just… the whole thing where they were growing old together. It reminded me of you and me. That’s what I want.”
“You want to lift your house into the air with balloons?”
“Shut up,” Sam laughed. “You know what I mean.”
Even though I was teasing him, I did know what he meant. Of all the guys I’ve dated in my life, Sam is the only one I’ve ever imagined growing old with. I think he’ll look really cute with graying hair and wrinkles.
(Actually, I’ve located a few strands of gray in his hair and he reacted with mock horror.)
I do worry sometimes that he won’t age well because he’s a quadriplegic. I mean, old people get decrepit and it’s probably worse if you’re starting out already in a wheelchair. But this isn’t something we talk about or something that Sam seems to be worried about, so I try not to let it worry me. As of now, he�
��s in pretty good shape aside from his foot issues, and he’s a whole lot more health conscious than I am. At this rate, he’ll probably outlive me by twenty years.
May 31:
Sam said to me tonight: “What about November?”
“Huh?” I said. I was lying in bed reading and he was at his computer, as usual.
“I mean for the wedding,” he said, pushing himself away from his desk to face me.
“Oh,” I said.
“I know the summer is more traditional,” he said. “But we haven’t really been on the ball about planning this. I think November will give us enough time.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled.
“We’ll be together a year soon,” he pointed out. “Maybe once we’ve been together for a year, your mother will be more accepting of the whole thing.”
“Don’t count on it,” I said.
Sam looked pained by my comment. “Millie, I know she hates me,” he said. “But seriously, do you think there’s anything I can do? Anything?”
“I... I’m not sure…”
“What if I converted?” he asked. “I’ll do it if you think it would help.”
I just shook my head at him. Converting to Judaism wouldn’t help—my mother would still hate him. Aside from getting up and walking for her, I couldn’t think of anything he could do to change that. I’d imagine that sometime, years down the line, she’ll eventually accept him. In the meantime, I’m guessing there will be a lot of uncomfortable situations.
“It’s not that big a deal,” I said.
Sam wheeled over to where I was lying on the bed. I folded over a page in my book and put it down at my side. He looked sad. “You still want to marry me, right?” he asked softly.
“Why are you asking me that?” I said in surprise.
“I don’t know,” he sighed. “You just don’t seem very enthusiastic whenever I bring up the wedding. I don’t want to feel like I’m forcing you into anything. If you want to wait longer, that’s fine. Just tell me.” He took a deep breath. “And if you feel like you can’t go through with it because of your mother…”
His voice was breaking. I felt awful. I didn’t want him to think I don’t want to marry him. “No, November sounds fine,” I said quickly. “I guess it’s just that the idea of planning a wedding seems overwhelming.”
He looked really relieved. “I know,” he agreed. “Maybe we should go with the civil ceremony after all.”
“We could be married in a week,” I pointed out.
He grinned at me. “It’s tempting.”
That would be wonderful. We could get all this engagement bullshit out of the way and just start our lives together. But I knew Sam wasn’t going to go for it. The same way my family was pressuring me not to marry him, his family was pressuring him to have a big wedding. Like it or not, I was going to have to get married with hundreds of people staring at me.
JUNE
June 1:
I really, really hate myself right now. I just did something really, truly awful.
For the record, the reason I went to Jake Winston’s office today was completely business. We had a meeting this morning about a project we’re working on, compiling data for a car insurance company. Jake was leading the meeting, even though a part of me felt like he had no understanding of what we were actually doing. In any case, he told me after the meeting that he needed to look at some of the preliminary data and asked me if I’d swing by his office to bring it to him.
Except when he said it, he winked.
I printed out the Excel spreadsheets for him and came to his office as he requested. I held up the papers when I passed by his secretary Cheryl’s desk, just to prove I had a reason to be there, because last time I had been there Cheryl gave me a funny look.
When Jake saw me, he stood up and smiled. If I really had to think about it though, I’m pretty sure I was the one who closed the door to his office.
“Hi, Matilda,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”
“Here’s the data you asked for,” I said. I held the papers out to him.
Jake took the papers from my hand. His fingers brushed against mine really blatantly as he did it, which I have to admit gave me a little tingle. He glanced at the papers for a second, then tossed them in the trash bin next to his desk.
“Hey!” I said.
“Come on,” he said. “You know that’s not why I asked you to come here.”
My mouth felt dry and it was suddenly really hard to swallow. He stepped closer to me, so close that his cologne was almost overwhelming. So close that he easily reached out to touch my cheek.
“Matilda,” he murmured. My name sounded so sexy on his lips.
I shook my head. “Jake, I can’t…”
“Don’t tell me you can’t,” Jake said. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”
I’m sure you’ve been to movies before where the heroine was about to do something really stupid. A guy who’s wonderful in (almost) every way is madly in love with her, yet she’s contemplating kissing some other guy who might be unbelievably hot, but is definitely not her fiancé. And in the movie theater, you yell at the screen, “What’s wrong with you, you idiot? Don’t kiss him! Don’t do it!”
But in real life, it’s not so simple. There are a lot of other factors that come into play that might not be totally obvious to the movie-going public. Like the fact that the rich asshole might actually be a nice guy under the surface. And that when a man so sexy and charming is standing six inches away from you, a man that you had a crush on as a teenager, not letting him kiss you is not only difficult, it’s impossible.
So yes, I let Jake kiss me.
And if this really were a movie, maybe this would probably have been the start of some torrid love affair. It would have somehow involved a trip to Paris and making love on a yacht or something. And then when Sam and I were at the altar, Jake would come running in at the last second, just as the minister was asking if anyone knew of any reason why we shouldn’t be married. And I would live happily ever after with Jake, my schoolgirl crush.
Except the reality is that when I kissed Jake, I just felt awful and cheap. No fireworks went off like the first time I kissed Sam. All I could think about was how hurt Sam would be if he found out about this. I love him so much and I would be totally devastated if anything got in the way of our relationship. The thought of him discovering what was going on in this office was enough to finally hit home how wrong what I’d been doing with Jake was.
I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I just got carried away.
Of course, Jake didn’t pick up on any of this. He tried to kiss me again and I pulled away. “What?” he said.
“I can’t do this,” I said.
He frowned. “Why not?”
“Jake, I’m engaged.”
“Oh, right,” he said with a grin as he tried to kiss me again. I stepped far enough away from him that he had to know I meant it. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’m serious.”
“You’re really going to marry Sam?” He looked almost incredulous.
“Why is that so ridiculous?”
Jake just shook his head. “Have you seen the guy?”
I felt my cheeks burn. “Sam is really good-looking.”
“Yeah, maybe from the neck up,” he snorted. “But, I mean, really. Look at him. He looks like… have you seen the way people stare at him? Is that really the person you want to spend the rest of your life with? Seriously?”
“Yes,” I shot back. “Sam is a great guy.”
Jake shrugged. “Sure, he’s nice and all. But he’s… I mean, you can’t seriously be attracted to him.” He shook his head again. “If this engagement is some little game of yours to titillate me…”
I stared at him in amazement. I couldn’t believe his nerve. “You think that my engagement is a game to titillate you?”
“Well, if it is,” he said with a grin, “it’s working.”
I was beginni
ng to feel like I had completely misjudged Jake. He wasn’t a nice, misunderstood guy. He was beginning to seem much more like a self-centered jerk. I decided the best thing was to get out of here before I said something I would regret.
“I’m leaving,” I said.
Jake shrugged. “You’ll be back,” he said with maddening confidence.
“No,” I said. “I won’t.”
June 2:
Sam had an appointment today with Dr. Jamison and I was so scared that I couldn’t sleep last night. It was about the sore on his heel, which he hasn’t let me look at in a long time, and he won’t talk about it either. I tried to weasel some information out of Eva a few days ago, but somehow all I ended up with was her recipe for borscht.
Every time I asked Sam how it looked, he said he didn’t want to “burden” me. That really scared me, because if he didn’t want to burden me, that had to mean it didn’t look good. Because if it looked good, that wouldn’t be a burden, right?
After what happened between me and Jake, I was certain that there was going to be bad news. That it was going to be the universe’s way of paying me back for what I did.
(Of course, it hardly seemed fair that Sam should get punished for me cheating on him. But who knows how the universe works?)
I lay awake until three in the morning thinking about it. I looked down at his bandaged heel and I felt like crying. What if Sam really lost his foot? I couldn’t even imagine it. I’m sure he’d be upbeat about it because that’s the way he is about everything, but I know it would be really hard on him.
If it came to that, I would be strong for him. I would stay with him at the hospital and not leave his side for a minute. And I would love him just as much after as I did before.
Anyway, he left early from work to go to his appointment. I offered to go with him, but he adamantly refused. I wondered if that meant he thought he was going to get good or bad news. If he thought there was bad news, wouldn’t he want moral support? Or maybe he’d want to shield me from that?