by Heather Gean
“You aren’t a city girl, huh?” I impatiently scanned the traffic up ahead where there was no sign of movement. “It’s only a block down that way. You could walk if you wanted.” I was better at walking than I was at waiting.
I looked over at Van and thanked him for the ride. My gaze hung on his a few seconds too long. My heart fluttered as I clarified the directions. How a scruffy, messy boy could leave me blushing with nothing more than a prolonged glance was aggravating to me.
“Are you sure it’s okay to get out here?” We were sandwiched in the middle of two lanes. I was hesitant to open my door. “Isn’t it against the law or something?”
Van laughed with a smile that contagiously spread to my face. “Rules are for people who can’t think for themselves.” After taking no more than a few seconds to contemplate that statement, I swung open the car door and stepped out into New York City traffic. For at least fifty paces past his car I could faintly hear riffs of Santana rolling from his speakers, eventually mingling with the engine rumbling and horn beeping and finally fading into nothing more than big city noise.
The Schroeder office building had so many stories that it hurt my neck to look to the top from the sidewalk. The sun reflected off of a few stories of windows near the top, and the rest of it was a shaded series of gray steel and glass that would’ve shined brilliantly had the buildings around it not blocked out the sun. Out front, planted in a tiny hole in the sidewalk, was a scantily foliaged tree. I sighed, thinking of the giant oaks outside my parents’ house. I definitely wasn’t in Tennessee anymore, and clicking my heels together a few times wasn’t going to remedy that.
Ashley’s office was located on the thirty-seventh floor. I went through two rounds of security before finally receiving an ID badge and being ushered in to his secretary’s waiting room. She smiled at me when I entered. “I see I got one thing on your list done this morning!” she chirped. Carla, which I learned was her name from the nameplate on the desk, was the most cheerful face I’d seen since I entered the building thirty-seven floors ago.
“You can scratch everything else on that list.”
“Except this of course. Hold still!” She hurried out from behind her desk with a measuring tape. Without another word she wrapped the tape around my hips and scribbled something onto a notepad positioned aside her nameplate. I glanced over my shoulder at her.
“Your measurements for Kat,” she said shortly. She hurried about as if she had a million things to do at once, which was likely that she did. The tape then squeezed itself around my waist.
A door behind the desk opened, and Ashley strutted out in a business suit with a man on his heels. I was surprised when I recognized the man from dinner; at least my memory hadn’t fallen victim to the alcohol. Ashley bid the man farewell before settling his smile on me.
“What’s all this about?” he asked.
“Kat needs measurements,” Carla replied quickly. He nodded, though I figured he had no idea what she meant.
“How do you feel about going out today?” he asked me. “Ya know, seeing the city?”
“That sounds great,” I said as Carla tugged at my chest with the tape.
“Hold still,” she repeated. I did as told while Ashley continued.
“I figured I’d take the rest of the day off and show you around. Let me just run downstairs and change out of this monkey suit.” Already he was loosening his tie.
“Really? Are you sure you have time?” Ashley grinned. I felt genuinely special at that moment.
“I don’t, but I’m going to do it anyway. Carla is a master at rescheduling things.” Just when I thought she’d finished up, Carla wrapped the measuring tape around my head. The cool plastic stuck to my forehead.
“Is that necessary?” I asked her.
“It’s best to be thorough,” she replied. Ashley winked at me.
Once I was thoroughly measured, I followed Ashley through the halls. “What do you think of the office?” I glanced around at the cubicles we were passing, full of people who probably hated their jobs and spent their days pushing paper, whatever that meant.
“It’s… busy.” Seeing everyone rushing about made me think about the museum. I wondered how my exhibit was going and made a mental note to give them a call. Ashley opened the door to the stairwell for me before we headed down one flight.
“Van got you here okay?” I gave him a nod. “He wasn’t driving the hearse again, I guess?”
“No,” I replied with a laugh, “but what was the deal with the hearse?”
“He was fixing it for a friend.” He opened the thirty-sixth floor’s door for me, and we swept through another plastic-smelling corridor.
“He fixes cars?”
“Among other things. He’s handy.”
I took a seat in a vinyl chair outside a Faculty Only door. When Ashley reappeared he looked as I hadn’t seen him look since I’d met him. He wore a gray polo shirt and tennis shoes that matched his eyes and a pair of jeans with stylishly ripped knees. It was the Superman syndrome all over again. Finally I could see a twenty-four-year-old in him.
Once outside of the office, he wrapped his hand around mine and led me down the sidewalk. “I hope you don’t care if we foot it. I don’t have enough patience for driving in the city.”
“That’s fine with me.” The warmth of his hand was comforting as we moved through the masses of pedestrians.
The subway was equally as crowded as the streets. It was a game of don’t-get-trampled and squeeze-in-like-sardines. Ashley tugged me into a crowded car just before the doors slid shut. The subway car lurched into motion, leaving me pressed chest-to-chest with Ashley. As initially uncomfortable as it was, I realized that with commuters hemming me in I had no other choice. I felt as if the subway had been Ashley’s sneaky way of getting close to me, however, his hand remained on the overhead bar and didn’t inappropriately hold onto me. Despite my suspicions, he was remaining a true gentleman. I relaxed as much as one could relax in a stale-smelling subway car full of strangers and even stranger stains.
While I had no clue where we were going, Ashley escorted me into the outward flow of traffic a few stops from where we started. By then my head was spinning. It was the beginning of a few hours spent on and off the subways. Ashley showed me a few staples of New York City: the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, Radio City Music Hall. I felt that he was trying to win me over with his city, and if that was the case he’d really missed the mark with me. I took more interest in a group of street performers playing jazz than I did to uselessly tall buildings; I gave them five bucks for brightening my day.
Ashley, however, redeemed himself with ease. We ended up eating Chinese food out of take-out containers in the grass beside a lake in Central Park. Neither of us liked to cook, but we shared a love for all things take-out: Chinese food, pizza, and Mexican. The scene around us was a bit cliché but a breath of fresh air nonetheless. White swans flitted about in the lake in front of us. Clear water spurted up out of a fountain near the middle, sending a shower down onto a row of floating ducks. Gloriously green trees canopied overhead. It didn’t even feel like part of New York City.
“Are you looking forward to going back to Memphis at the end of the week?” He shoveled another piece of sweet and sour chicken into his mouth with his chopsticks.
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong; I like being here. I’ve just got a lot going on at work.”
“I know how that goes,” he said with a nod. “So tell me about what you do. I know you work in the Cultural Art Museum.”
“I’m currently over an urban art exhibit. It’s really awesome. It has a little bit of everything: paintings, photography, sculptures. It’s very characteristic of the next generation.”
“You should talk to Van about that. He’d be really interested.” He motioned with his chopsticks as he spoke.
“Why’s that?”
“Van sculpts a lot. It’s a hobby of his. You’ve probably seen his work around the
house.” The naked man in the great room and the lady lounging beside the pool suddenly had a creator, though it wasn’t one I’d expected. I nodded slowly and tried not to waste too much thought on it.
“What are some of your hobbies?”
“It’s been a while since I’ve had time,” he replied with a laugh. “I play the piano a little. I play golf but only for business. I like to relax with good company.”
I leaned back onto my elbows in the grass. An empty cardboard container rested at my side. “Do I constitute as good company?” I asked with a grin.
Ashley abandoned his container and flopped over onto his side. He propped his head in his hand, leaving sprigs of his golden hair sticking up between his fingers. “I’d say you’re some of the best.” I smiled into his gray stare.
We had something. I wasn’t sure what that something was, but at least it was there. As far as a friendship, I could see a strange one forming. I tallied up what I knew about Ashley. I knew that he could make commitments, that his job was important but didn’t come first, and that he and I had nearly everything in common. It seemed as if the government had assessed the two of us with precise accuracy. Since he didn’t have any strikes against him, where was the spark? Where was the magic?
“What do you think so far?” I asked. “Do you think the government did all right?”
“Better than I expected. They have a tendency to screw things up now and again, but I think this match is one of their better doings.”
“You could see yourself living with me? Waking up beside me?” The mansion was so huge that I could probably have my own room if I wanted, but that wasn’t the point.
“Now I know they didn’t make a mistake. You don’t have any patience either!” We shared a laugh. Once it simmered down into nothing more than smiles and warm sunlight on our faces, Ashley added, “Let’s just keep things slow for now.”
I picked up my bottle of water from the ground beside me and removed the cap. “I’ll drink to that.” He located his and thumped the plastic against mine. We nursed water from the bottles we’d toasted with. It was cool and refreshing, but nothing spectacular. And I don’t just mean the water.
~*~
A short break in the afternoon finally presented itself with the opportunity for me to check in on my exhibit. I hoped to give myself a little peace of mind. While I’d left the project in good hands, it wasn’t in my hands so I could never be sure of its status. Our opening was imminent, and that wore like sandpaper on my nerves. My trip to meet Ashley couldn’t have fallen at a worse time, but apparently government romance had no consideration for timing.
“Who?” I asked. I was on the phone with Wes, my right hand man on the exhibit project at the museum, and he was chattering on at hurricane speeds. I struggled to scribble down as much important information as I could.
“James Wellington. Oh, you know, the ‘Art is the heartbeat of America’ guy,” Wes said. “He’s here!”
The impact of the situation crashed into me like a tidal wave. I stuttered and stammered, but I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. “James Wellington is there?” The aftershock hit me as hard as the initial blow. This was huge.
“I told him you are out of town until the end of the week. He’s only here until Thursday.” James Wellington, perhaps the country’s single-most important urban art critic was poking around my exhibit, and I just happened to be a few hundred miles away. My head sank into my free hand.
“He can’t stay any longer?” I asked. “Not even a day?”
“I already checked. He’s got a late flight that evening to Barcelona for his daughter’s wedding.” I had no words for the desperation wrenching my lungs. I sank lower into the park bench I occupied. “Rainy, I know you, and I know you’re freaking out right now. It’s cool. Everything is under control, we’re on schedule and following your plans to a t, and he’ll be back for the opening.” A sigh finally escaped me. “Do yourself a favor and have fun this week. You’ve got Ashley fucking Schroeder right beside you. How could you possibly be upset?” I laughed in spite of myself. My head began to support itself without the help of my palm. Slowly, the bulk of the devastation melted into a nervous smile.
“I trust you, Wes. Don’t screw this up. Please.”
He laughed. “I couldn’t screw this up! This is an awesome exhibit. It doesn’t need my help.”
“Help it anyway,” I insisted. With a few promising words, my connection with my world ended. I was almost surprised to look by my side and remember that Ashley was sitting beside me.
“Trouble at work?” he asked. I sighed without a certain answer to his question.
“James Wellington is at my exhibit as we speak.” Ashley had no idea who James Wellington was but from the tone in my voice he gathered that he was an important person.
“And you aren’t there. I can understand how that may freak you out.” An awkward pause inserted itself between us. How could I possibly want to be at work when I was relaxing in the shade by a beautiful lake full of swans? I felt that my priorities were out of whack.
“If anybody can sympathize with stressing about work it would be me.” With that statement he checked his watch. “Speaking of work, I need to check back into the office before we head home for the evening.” He shook off that verbalized mental note and continued, “But if you’re anything like me, I know that you wouldn’t have left your project if you hadn’t been absolutely sure that it was in good hands.” He paused long enough for me to hesitantly nod. “Then just relax a little bit. If anything isn’t to your specifications you can fix it when you get back, but until then all you can do is have a little faith that everything will be okay. Relaxing every now and then will save your sanity a lot faster than Xanex will. Just look at my mother.” Whether he’d meant it or had just been bull shitting his way to another victory, Ashley had preempted my meltdown.
However, this only inserted another issue into my growing concerns about our relationship. How could the two of us support a marriage? We were already married to our jobs!
I decided to take Ashley’s advice and apply it to that situation as well. I needed to have a little faith that everything would be okay, that the government didn’t just draw names out of a hat and throw us together for life. There had to be a reason that I was with Ashley Schroeder so I needed to relax, though a Xanex probably wouldn’t have hurt either.
I wondered how many couples matched by the DML had gone through this awkward stage. The confusion was as simple as not knowing whether to hold hands when we walked down the sidewalk. Our fingers would touch, clumsily wrap around one another, and then uncertainly slide apart within moments. Other times it was complex enough to make me wonder if I knew as much about myself as I thought I had. I’d catch myself staring at Ashley, searching for pieces of me in him and wondering exactly how those pieces could possibly fit together. Millions of couples had not been joined in holy matrimony by the United States Government to end up with mixed results. I had to be missing something.
Don’t get me wrong, a fairy tale romance wasn’t what I was after. I had never wanted Prince Charming and his family to meddle in my business; his black sheep brother would’ve been just fine for me. Maybe the government was in the business of manufacturing fairy tales, and I’d been dealt Prince Charming, complete with his high class family that would no doubt poison plenty of apples to send my way. Or maybe I’d get swept up in true love’s kiss and randomly burst out into song. Was happily ever after really so bad?
I was lost in the middle of figuring that out. More specifically, I sat with Ashley in a half-empty subway car for the long ride back to his office building. I sat with my body angled toward him, one leg folded under me. I scooted close enough that our legs were touching. With the elbow closest to him propped on the back of the seat, I rested my head in my hand. Our faces were possibly closer together than they’d ever been. I felt that I was pushing things, but I only had a week to come up with some answers.
“How man
y kids do you want?”
Ashley narrowed his eyes at me. “You want kids?”
“Oh, c’mon, that’s not a real answer. I know how many I want, but I want to know how many you want.” Ashley smiled as pink crept across his cheeks. He wasn’t going to play his word games with me, and that realization took him back a few steps. “How many?”
“One.”
“Three or four, maybe.”
The shock in his chuckle was a little unsettling. “That… is a lot of tuition money.”
“I think family’s important. I always hated that I was an only child,” I explained. I then questioned his response. “Why so few? You act like you can’t afford some extra tuitions.”
“I just plan to be a little older when I have kids. I’ve got a lot going on with the business right now, and I don’t really have time. So if I’m thirty-something or forty when I start having kids then I figure it’d be a little late to have a lot.” Thirty-something? Forty? Waiting was one thing, but thirty-something was something totally different. I felt discussing that out right then would’ve been like spinning tires so instead I switched gears.
“Where do you want to get married?” I asked.
“Maybe at the Plaza. Definitely in New York.” I crinkled my nose. “Wherever you want is fine with me, too, but I wasn’t sure if that was a legitimate answer.” I smiled into the gray of his eyes. They were the color of the sky in the winter.
“Big wedding or small?”
“You never told me where you’d want to get married,” he interjected.
“Just answer the question, please,” I said playfully. When I nudged him with the elbow running just behind his shoulder his face dipped dangerously close to mine.
When he said small, relief washed over me. We finally agreed on something. “Maybe like one-hundred from my family and one-hundred from yours?”
“Ashley, on what scale is that small?” I asked with a surprised laugh. “Small is forty people.”