She turned and scrunched her nose at me. I loved it when she did that.
“I couldn’t sleep anymore, so I thought I’d make us some breakfast, anxious for the day I guess.”
She slid whatever was in the pan onto a plate.
“Why don’t you come back to bed?”
“Why don’t you get up and have breakfast with me? I made French toast,” she said taunting me with the sweet aroma.
“Argh, you’re so evil. I need to sleep more,” I said dropping onto my back. I heard a pattering of feet across my wood floor as she jumped on my bed. Then she bounced up and down. I grabbed her, rolled her underneath me and pretend to fall asleep. She started laughing. Then she licked my cheek.
“Ah, come on!”
She laughed again.
I wiped my cheek against hers and she groaned from the scratching of my stubble. Then I finally let her go, she bounced up and walked back to the table. She took the bottle of orange juice from the refrigerator, poured herself a glass and took a drink.
“What do you think I should wear tonight?”
“I don’t know, you look pretty good in what you’re wearing now,” I said up on my elbows again. She was wearing one of my white dress shirts, slightly unbuttoned and I could very slightly see her form through it.
She just shook her head as she poured some maple syrup over her two pieces of French toast and cut a corner off with her fork. I got up, got a fork and took a bite of hers.
“Hey,” she said pulling away.
“I thought we were having breakfast together.”
“I didn’t say you could eat mine. Get your own,” and she took another bite.
I put three pieces on a plate, squirted on the syrup and started eating.
“What should I wear tonight?”
“I don’t know. Wear what you would wear to an opening. What about that mint green dress you got a few weeks ago.”
“Are you kidding? That’s a spring dress. I’m not wearing that to the Buell OR the Brown Palace for that matter.”
I took another bite realizing I was hungrier than I had thought.
“We don’t do this enough.”
“What, go to the theatre?”
“No. Well, yes that too, but I mean we don’t go OUT enough. We’re young. Shouldn’t we be going clubbing on weekends or something?”
“Really? Clubbing?” I asked.
“You know what I mean. We should do stuff more often. You live in LoDo. Don’t you feel like we should be taking in more of the city?”
“I think we do a pretty good job. We know which galleries are good and which ones suck. We hit up the best coffee shops. We’re at the Tattered Cover at least once a week. Much more than that and it gets expensive.”
“True.”
“Besides, I am taking you to the Buell right?” I said setting my plate in the sink.
“That is true,” and she draped her arms over my shoulders. Then she licked my cheek again and ran off to the bathroom with a squeal. I followed after her.
It had been a week since I had left my mother in Minnesota with my aunt, to finish dealing with my grandmother’s estate and she was finally home, so I drove out to her house to see how she was doing. Now that Peter was gone, I didn’t have any more reservations about walking into the house. She was on the phone when I walked in, so I waited a minute. Then she gave me a hug, gently moved my chin so she could get a better look and asked me: “How is your eye?”
“It’s alright. Jo’s been babying me so I think it worked out for the best.”
She smiled.
“Alex, I just really want to say I’m sorry one more time.”
“Mamma, it’s okay. You loved him. I’m not entirely sure how, but you did.”
Her eyes began to tear up, but she took a deep breath. “Yeah.” Then she squeezed my hand. “I don’t want to talk about that any more for right now. What I wanted to give you was this, she said pointing to a manila envelope sitting on the counter.”
“What’s this?”
“It’s your inheritance. After you left and everything calmed down. Lauren found a list of things momma had intended each of us to have, that she was going put in her will, but never got around to. We all agreed that that was what we were going to go off of to distribute everything.”
I opened the envelope. One by one I took the items out and laid them on the table in front of me. There was an elephant skin wallet, still in its box, a pair of carved tiger’s eye cufflinks, a two-tone wedding ring slightly misshapen and a check for nearly $5,000.
“That was daddy’s wedding ring,” my mother said picking up the band and looking at it. “It’s in the shape of his finger.” Then she set the ring down.
“What is this for?” I asked picking up the check.
“Maybe it can go toward a certain ceremony? Since Lauren and I both got a house we decided to sell the few stocks and bonds that were worth anything and split the money up amongst you kids.”
“Oh wow mom, thanks.”
“Well, it’s not much, but I think your grandmother would be tickled if she knew that she would be helping you pay for your wedding.”
“How was everything after I left?”
She nodded. “It was okay. Hard to let go, you know how it is, but okay. Let’s talk about you. So today’s the big day huh? Do you think she suspects anything?”
“I hope not. I saw her this morning and she’s just excited to get to go to dinner and the theatre.”
“So, do you know what you’re going to say?” she asked with big eyes gripping her coffee mug with both hands.
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“I bet you do. Come on. Tell me.”
“Well, we have tickets to see Les Miserables, but we have dinner reservations at the Brown Palace for before.”
“Nice. Brown Palace. Very nice. Go on.”
Then I went into the details of how I had hoped the evening would play out.
“Ah, beautiful. I wish I could be there.”
“Well, I’ll let you know how it goes.”
We talked for a little while longer about how school was going, then I drove to work.
I pulled into the small parking lot in front of the newspaper, took my camera bag out of the trunk and went inside.
“Alex,” Dan said as I entered the newsroom and picked up a copy of today’s edition.
“What’s up?”
“Why don’t you take a walk with me.”
“Uh, okay,” I said suspicious, because he usually just tossed me a printed sheet with some specifics of what stories he needed me to cover that day.
I set my bag and the newspaper down on my desk and followed him.
“So, what’s up Dan?”
He smiled one of his ‘give me a second to get my crap together’ smiles then asked: “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”
“I’m okay.”
“Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”
“Okay?”
I’m getting fired.
We exited the building through the grey, employee’s side entrance, crossed the street and began walking down Pearl Street. The sun was warm, tulips newly planted by the Boulder city commission were open and beautiful and children laughed and ran while their parents tried to corral them while still catching a glimpse of whatever the Pearl Street shops had on display that morning.
Dan bought two coffees from one of the street vendors, handed one to me, and we sat down on a bench where the tree above us broke the sunlight into mottled patches at my feet.
“Dan, I can’t get fired right now. I’m about to propose to my girlfriend and…”
He smiled and shook his head.
“It’s not that. I got a call two days ago from one of the higher ups, and the news company that owns us needs a shooter to go cover some sort of student protests starting up in Colombia. They are changing laws to increase the cost of tuition, and all of these damn kids want everything for free, so they’re starting to throw a fit. You w
eren’t the first person I though to ask, but the person I asked turned me down. Something about kids or something, then I thought of you. Travel pay is your normal salary plus hazard based on where you are, usually around 10% plus travel expenses and per diem. I can’t guarantee how long you’ll be gone, but you’d be in country at least a few months. Are you interested?”
I took a drink from my cup and ran my hand through my hair.
I pictured the engagement ring sitting on my shelf at home, tucked away behind some books about cars.
“Dan, I really appreciate the offer but…”
He took a deep breath and interrupted me. “How old are you Alex?”
“Nearly twenty-one.”
“Nearly twenty-one,” he said looking away. “Nobody’s hungry enough anymore. I spent nearly the first year of my career living out of a VW bus, chasing every story I could all over the country.” Then he stood up and threw his cup into the trash bin near us. “Look Alex, you’re a good shooter, but you’re going to need bigger stories if you plan on ever shooting for anyone bigger than a college town newspaper. Take the weekend to think about it. The flight leaves Monday. If you want my advice, I suggest you get on it.” Then we started walking away. “Oh, and by the way,” he said turning back to me, “Congratulations on proposing. I hope she says yes. You’re a good kid.”
I rolled the possibilities over in my mind as I watched a child slowly pour gravel onto the head of a brass turtle statue with a pink-plastic shovel, in a sandbox in the middle of this walking mall. Fifteen minutes passed before I decided that I was probably pushing my luck and should get back to the newsroom.
When I got back, there was a story waiting for me on my camera bag, but Dan was nowhere to be seen. I knew the address on the sheet, so I just headed out.
The closer I got to home, the more excited I became. I looked at my watch. It was nearly four. Less than two hours until I picked up Jo. I drove into the underground parking, pushed the button for the fourth floor and walked into my apartment. This place won’t be big enough for us both. We’ll have to get a bigger apartment. That’s okay, she’ll probably want at least six months to plan the wedding, maybe even a year. I shook my head. Nah, six months. I unbuttoned my shirt, kicked off my shoes and tossed my jeans on the bed. Then I went and turned the shower on. I walked over to my closet, found the white button up shirt I was planning on wearing and looked at the sleeves. They were wrinkled. I turned it around and looked at the back. It was pretty wrinkled too, so I went back into the tiny bathroom that was now filling with steam and hung the shirt on the outside of my shower door. That should get the wrinkles out. I went back to the closet. No. No. There they are. I pulled a pair of navy blue, pin stripped dress slacks out of the closet, looked them over and laid them on my bed. Then I climbed in under the hot shower water that felt so amazing after a day of crawling around with a camera.
Jo, will you marry me? Jolene? Jo? Jo. Jo, will you be my wife? Jo, you are the air I breathe… no that’s too corny. Jo, you’re my best friend. I remember life before I knew you and it was shit. I laughed, squirted shampoo into the palm of my hand, rubbed them together and lathered my hair. Jo, I love you. I feel like my life is on hold every time we’re apart from each other, waiting… waiting… Argh, I am awful at this. I rinsed the soap from my hair, feeling it flow like a river down my back. Then I squirted some soap into the palm of my hand and washed down my face, arms and the rest of my body. Just speak from the heart. If it’s real, she’ll know. I turned off the water, shook my head and dried myself off. I went over to the mirror. With the towel, I cleared a circle and looked at myself. “Jo, you’re my best friend, and I love you. Over the last three years you’ve taught me to be a better person. You believe in me, you challenge me and you make me laugh. Life is simply more beautiful when you’re around. I can’t guarantee you wealth or fame, riches or glory, but I can guarantee you that if you let me, I will love you with every OUNCE of strength I have for the rest of my life. Jo, will you be my wife?” I said to myself as I lathered my face with white shaving cream. Then I rinsed my hands and drug a razor across my cheeks. Yeah, that sounds good. I should have written it down. Crap! Best friend. Better Person. Believe in me and life’s more beautiful when you’re around. Okay, I think I can remember that. I pulled down one ear then another, shaving both sides of my neck. Then I rinsed my face and went back out into the main room. I pulled the towel off of my waist and dried off my hair one more time. I hung the towel on the back of the door, put on a clean pair of white boxer shorts and pulled up the dress slacks. I’m picking Jo up at 6:30. Our reservation is for 7:00. The show starts at 8:30. By 8:30 I’ll be engaged. Engaged. I looked at myself in the mirror as I finished the knot in my tie and pulled the jacket up over my shoulders. Then I stopped and just looked at myself.
I looked down.
Sitting on the dresser, underneath the mirror was a photograph of Jo I had taken when we went to the taste of Colorado. You are going to be the mother of my children. I smiled. I just hope they look like you. Then I chuckled.
I looked at my watch.
It was just after 6.
I sprayed a puff of cologne onto my shirt and headed for the door. Then I stopped. I patted my pockets. Come on Alex. Don’t be an idiot. The ring is kind of important! I walked over to my shelf of books, reached up to the top shelf and pulled away ‘The Encyclopedia of Motor Bike Racing’. I reached as far back as I could reach and retrieved the small, purple box. I opened it. Wow, it’s so beautiful. I hope she likes it. I closed the box, put it in my breast pocket and went down to the car. I should have just enough time to make a quick stop. Flowers.
6:30 came and I walked up to the front door of Jo’s parent’s house with a bouquet of red roses. A certain little box poked into my ribs from my jacket pocket. Then I rang the doorbell. Jo answered.
“Hey, oh how beautiful. Are these for me?”
“No, they’re for your mom,” I said handing the flowers to her.
She rolled her eyes and slapped my chest. “Well, I’m sure she’ll love them. I know I would if my boyfriend ever got me any this nice.” Then she kissed my cheek. Kisses were always on the cheek at her parent’s house. “Hang on just a second. Let me get my purse.” She said disappearing into the house.
“So, are you excited about tonight?” I asked when she came back out.
“Are you kidding? I was looking at some photos of the show on the internet, and it looks like it’s going to be amazing!”
“The Brown Palace is supposed to be pretty nice too.”
“Oh, I’m so excited!” she said walking up on her tiptoes and swinging my arm back and forth.
I opened her door and she climbed in.
“I’m pretty excited too. Tonight’s going to be a great night.”
We pulled up in front of the Brown Palace and a valet opened Jo’s door. She looked at me and raised her eyebrows. I just smiled. Then the valet opened my door and I handed him the keys and took the pink ticket with the number 18 on it.
Inside, the Brown Palace was gorgeous. A colored glass ceiling illuminated rows of blue-green filigree railings in front of dozens of hotel room doors all of which overlooked the foyer, where uniformed bellhops stood waiting for orders. Past the foyer was the restaurant, with rows of candlestick-chandeliers hanging over elaborate rugs and beautifully decorated tables of china and crystal.
“Name please?” the maitre d’ asked as we walked in.
“Douglas.”
He ran his finger down his list and closed the book.
“Right this way.”
Jo squeezed my arm as we walked past tables of people dressed far nicer than either of us were.
“Your table sir,” the maitre d’ said pulling out Jo’s chair.
She bit her lip and smiled at me as we both sat down.
“Our special this evening is Tournedos de Boeuf et sa Béarnaise. Someone will be along shortly to take your drink order.”
“Thank you,” I said as h
e walked away. Then we both started laughing. “Do you have any idea what la Boeuf Béarnaise is?”
“No, I was hoping you would.”
I just shook my head. Then I looked at the menu.
“There aren’t any prices on this menu,” Jo said.
“Don’t worry about it. Tonight’s a special night.”
We ordered and ate. I had a buttery Risotto with chicken and wild mushrooms and Jo had a spicy angus steak with the largest baked potato I think I’ve ever seen.
I knew it was almost time and my hands started to get sweaty so I gripped the napkin on my lap.
“What time is the show?” she asked.
“Oh, I think we have time.”
She gave me a curious look and checked her watch.
“Good, cause I think I’m going to get a piece of that chocolate cake I saw on the way in,” she said picking up the dessert menu.
It’s now or never.
“Jo, I have an ulterior motive for asking you here tonight.”
“Oh?”
I pushed the menu down and took her hand.
“Jo, you’re my best friend. Over the last three years I’ve learned how beautiful life is when you’re around. You make me laugh. You’re not afraid to tell me to shut up. You challenge me to be so much more than I am on my own. You’re my best friend.”
I stood up, took the ring out of my pocket and got down on one knee. I cold hear people gasp and whisper at the tables next to us. Jo put her free hand over her mouth, and I started choking up.
I took the ring out of the box and held it up to her.
“I can’t guarantee you a big house or a lot of money, but if you let me I promise I’ll love you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”
She paused and looked at me, starting to cry. Then she took my face in her hands. “No.”
A woman sitting next to us gasped.
I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
I looked down at the ring.
I didn’t know what to say or do.
What had been a secret gift of love now felt so heavy, so obnoxious. As I held it out for the whole restaurant to see, it became a red flag that drew everyone’s attention to my disgrace.
If I Lose Her Page 21