She's Out of Control

by Kristin Billerbeck

  I nod. “Yeah, I think I am.”

  Kevin seems to sense that I’m not all here and his brows furrow. “Arin and Seth share a vision, so Arin tells me. He has the money. She has the heart for missions.” He speaks softly and covers his hand over mine. It’s probably the same move he uses to tell someone a patient is dying. “It’s a match made in heaven, and Ashley . . .” He looks straight into my eyes. “It’s still going to be all right.”

  Only it’s not. “I feel like such a stunningly fantastic idiot. I am a complete idiot, aren’t I?”

  He doesn’t answer for a moment. “Did you not just relay the theory of focal point dressing?” He grins. “No one”—he turns to me, and uses both hands for emphasis—“no one who understands the intricacies of focal point dressing is an idiot. Seth wears the Mitel T-shirt and jeans nearly every day. It’s just too obvious for my tastes.” Kevin shrugs and looks away with the utmost severity until he falls into laughter. “Those are the facts as we know them. I let you be the judge on where the idiocy lies.”

  Kevin’s ruggedly handsome exterior is just that. On the inside he’s soft and chewy like a marshmallow. He feels things deeply, unlike most doctors I’ve met, but I don’t trust myself any longer. “I just want God’s will.” But that’s not really true. I want what I want when I want it. And unfortunately for me, God’s onto me.

  “Seth’s leaving you for a rat-infested country, Ashley.”

  I wring my hands together. “I work too much anyway. It was wishful thinking to try a relationship in this town.”

  “I work a lot too.” His expression softens, and I realize he’s talking about being more than friends. But no. I just got dumped. I’m on the rebound. And Kevin is too stinkin’ perfect, have I not mentioned that?

  “Work’s a good thing sometimes,” I say to avoid any relationship discussion.

  He brings my hands together and clasps them in his own. “Can’t you give me a moment’s credit that maybe there’s something here?”

  But I don’t want to face that. I don’t want to jump off this precipice and start again. I want to hang back with Seth, where it’s safe and comfortable, even though I know it’s a lie. “Kevin, you could have any woman you wanted. There’s not one thing settled in my life: not my job, my mortgage, my pet ownership. If you thought Arin was flaky, I’m a king-sized croissant.”

  “You think I know what’s happening? I don’t know if Stanford will keep me on. I don’t know if I want to stay a pediatric surgeon. Watching all these sick children every day hurts my heart like I never imagined. I’m too soft to be a doctor. Trust me, Ash, your life’s dramas don’t scare me.”

  “Well, they should.”

  We all have faults, and as I look at Kevin’s gorgeous façade, none of his faults are readily apparent. But then, Seth seemed a little like that too at first, but now . . . . If I fall for someone else, will I have the same results? They say that’s the sign of mental illness, when you do the same thing and expect a different result. What if I spray Kevin with Ashley-repellent, too? Then what?

  14

  As I look at the breakfast menu, I just get annoyed. California is such a freak show. It’s ten dollars a plate for ingredients like feta, tarragon, tofu, and fresh baby greens. I just want eggs. Well, really I want pancakes, and they market them like they’re Atkins-approved: high-protein, whole-wheat hotcakes served with a side of fresh strawberry yogurt. Really now, can yogurt actually be fresh?

  “What are you having?” Kevin’s sage-green eyes peer over the top of the menu, and I have to admit they give Seth’s tanzanite eyes a run for their money in decadence.

  “Pancakes,” I state with conviction. “With strawberries and whipped cream.”

  “As a doctor . . .” he says deeply.

  “As a doctor, you know when to keep your mouth shut, right?”

  He laughs. “No, I learned that as a son of a vain mother. Besides the fact is that you don’t need to lose weight. Do you want to look like Arin?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  “Arin looks emaciated, Ashley. You look healthy. And quite gorgeous, I might add. That’s my professional opinion.”

  I smile to myself. They did a survey on whether men liked Renee Zellweger’s look when she ballooned up for a role, or when she is emaciated and toned as she normally is. The men voted for round, though it involves a difference in cleavage, so it may not be a fat/skinny thing. And Renee is gorgeous regardless of her weight, so I guess the study actually has no take-away for me.

  Kevin is still smiling at me. He’s so much like Greg Wilson—the ideal of my youth. I had a crush on the redheaded Greg in high school, but he was entirely out of reach. He went to Woodside Priory, an elite prep school, lived in a mansion in Atherton, and even wore Cole Haans to youth group, though I had no idea what they were called back then. Greg Wilson was so quiet and reserved. You just knew he had so much going on inside, and you wanted a key. Alas, he stayed in his tower, and I went out with the boys who wore Nikes. I sneak a look at Kevin’s shoes: nice, good quality loafers.

  The waitress comes at this point, the point where I’m deliberating on my thighs and pancakes, and on the vision of wispy Arin on Seth’s nickel in a foreign country. “Eggs over medium with a side of vegetables. Can you use olive oil for those?” I start to ask if the oil is cold-pressed, but realize I’m sounding more and more like Kay. And anal-retentive is not the direction I’m heading.

  The waitress nods at me, but suddenly focuses on Kevin and seems to realize he looks like Hugh Jackman. She sputters for a moment, then recovers. “And for you?”

  “Pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream.” He smiles. “Lots of whipped cream.”

  “Do you want the high-protein whole-wheat pancakes?” the waitress asks, and Kevin looks to me. I nod slightly.

  “I sure do,” he says, and the waitress goes off with a skip in her step.

  “What’s it like to have that effect on people?” I ask him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that charm that gets people to do your bidding without even asking. What’s that like?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He holds up his hand. “Excuse me, can I get a refill on my coffee?”

  The waitress practically giggles and puts a tray down to bring him his coffee immediately.

  “You don’t notice that this kind of service is unusual?”

  “They’re charging $10.95 for pancakes. It ought to be good service.”

  I cross my arms. “You live a charmed life. How is my puppy doing?”

  “Your puppy is fabulous. He’s been carrying around an old T-shirt of yours that he attacked to remind himself of your scent, I suppose.”

  “An old T-shirt?”

  “Bright lime green thing. He’s ripped it to shreds.”

  I tap the table. “That’s a Lilly pistachio tee.” I look down at my hands. “It wasn’t old.”

  I look up and Kevin makes a face. “It is now. Maybe you should teach Rhett about focal destroying.”

  I pretend to punch him across the table, and he grabs my fist and places the hottest kiss on my hand. He opens my palm and places one there as well, and I feel my entire body come to life. Kevin looks away and says nothing about the kiss as he places my hand gently back onto the table.

  “The décor here is really fabulous.” Kevin says. “I need to hire a decorator, or at least that’s what my mother tells me. She says my house looks like Trading Spaces—after Hilda’s been there. Do you like decorating?”

  Kevin’s townhome would be a dream to decorate. The singles went there for movie night. It’s got great coffered ceilings in the dining room and simple crown molding everywhere else, a granite kitchen, but absolutely no wall color besides white. And the furniture? He’s obviously inherited classic pieces from his mother, but against the white, it all appears way too Ikealike. “You need some color. Doesn’t it bug you to be in a white box? Colors make you feel. Bright yellow? Happy! Red? S
ensual. Blue? Carefree and relaxed. Green? Calm. Whenever I’ve been to your place, I’ve wanted to come in wielding a paintbrush.”

  “So why don’t you?” He shrugs. “You could paint it whatever color you think I’d like. I trust you.”

  “You seem like a midnight-blue guy to me. You know, deep and strong like the night sky.”

  He starts to growl and we both start to crack up. “So, what else did Rhett do while I was away?”

  “Let’s just say Bible study wasn’t the same with your puppy joining us.”

  “So Kay’s had the puppy since Wednesday?”

  “Seth’s been working around the clock. Kay felt like she had to take care of him because Seth almost took him back to the pound. I had Rhett a couple nights after I took him to see Brianna.”

  “Brianna’s the little girl with cancer?”

  Kevin nods. “You’d love her, Ashley. She’s just got the fire of life in her, and I just feel with my whole heart she’s going to beat it. She’s not my patient, but we’ve all fallen in love with her on the ward.”

  “Small wonder. She sounds fabulous. I’m sorry about Rhett being so much trouble. I guess I should have admitted that having a dog is too much for me. Kay’s going to kill me when I get home. Why didn’t you tell me before that Rhett’s been with her that long?”

  Kevin focuses on a Howard Behrens painting. “Kay is going to kill you.” Then he looks straight at me. “But if I told you, I wouldn’t be having breakfast with you right now. Would I? I’m no fool. My mama didn’t pay for a fancy education for nothing.”

  I start to laugh. “Charming me is not fair. You realize that I’m very impressionable. That I’ve just been dumped for a promotion.”

  “For now.” Our meals come, and Kevin takes my hand. “Let’s pray. Dear heavenly Father, we just praise you for this time together. For Ashley’s safe trip home, and for her possible promotion, Father. We know you hold it in the palm of your hands. Bless this meal, and bless our ride home.” Kevin takes the plate with vegetables from in front of me, and slides over the pancakes. “Enjoy yourself for once, will you? Atkins is gone, and you don’t need to lose a pound.”

  “They’ve done studies that show . . .” I look at the slathered whipped cream and the pancakes, and my mouth stings like a Pavlovian dog. “You’re really going to eat the vegetables instead of this?”

  “You don’t seem to understand me at all. Do you, Ashley?” He takes a huge forkful of zucchini and shoves it into his mouth. “For you, I’d even eat rabbit food.”

  After chowing down the pancakes like I hadn’t seen food for a week, Kevin helps me back into the Porsche, and we start down the freeway. Along with a cash tip, he left a tract for the waitress and a small Gideon-like New Testament. Poor thing, she probably thinks it’s his phone number, but hopefully, she’ll be interested enough to read the Book. I have to say he’s a powerful witness, because he possesses this mystique that’s indescribable. Who wouldn’t want to own that?

  “So you missed your puppy?” Kevin asks.

  “I did. I got this great new bag in Taiwan to carry him to work in.”

  Kevin starts to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. What kind of bag?”

  “It’s a Versace knockoff, and it’s beige and black. Just gorgeous. Rhett is going to be to-die-for in it. It was between that and this great Dooney and Bourke tassel tote. Well, there was a Deborah Lewis sailor bag in lime that got my attention, too, but then I saw the price and, hey. But she had an incredible mock-croc doctor bag. Do you think that would be write-off for you?”

  “Did you actually work in Taipei? Or just shop?”

  “I sorta shop when I’m nervous.”

  “Then it sounds like you have an anxiety disorder, Ashley. Should I prescribe something for that?”

  Sure, your paycheck. “I got a bonus for traveling.”

  “Did the bonus cover the ring and the purse?”

  “What are you, my mother?”

  Kevin tosses his head back in laughter and punches the gas pedal. “I’m just thinking it’s probably cheaper for Seth to support Arin’s mission for a lifetime than your weekly shopping habit.”

  All humor disintegrates with this comment. Seth has watched me spend a lot of money. Maybe he worries I’m like a slow-moving waterfall, constantly draining his supposed trust until it isn’t there.

  We pull up to my house, and there’s a pile of wood in the front yard—an obvious diversion from Kay’s normal Better Homes & Gardens look. I can hear Rhett barking continuously and I run to the gate before getting my bags. Opening the gate, I see this much-bigger-than- Rhett dog come lurching at me, and I brace for impact. The dog and I tumble to the hard concrete. Deep brown eyes stare at me, my cheek is under the blanket of a huge pink tongue, and I realize it is Rhett. He’s obviously been eating well.

  Kevin comes around the back and helps me to my feet.

  I look at the dog suspiciously. “Rhett’s a big terrier, don’t you think?”

  “Actually, the pound called Seth while you were gone. They made a mistake. The neighbor didn’t know her breeds too well. He’s half-boxer, half-shepherd. Not terrier.”

  I mull this over a bit. “Who doesn’t know the difference between a terrier and a shepherd, Kevin?”

  “The same type of person who doesn’t get his dog neutered and lets him hop over the fence, Ashley.”

  “Look at him, Kevin.” I reach up a hand, and Kevin helps me off the hard ground. “He’s a lot bigger—he fit into my Lilly bag before I left! And those feet! He hasn’t stopped yet.”

  “Is this the bag you were going to put him in?” Kevin holds up my new Versace.

  “That’s it. I guess I’ve got about a week before he’s out of it, huh?” We both break into laughter before I realize this is so not funny. I have a dog who, judging by the size of his gargantuan paws, is going to be the size of a Great Dane and I own a yard big enough for a terrier. “I guess he’s not a froufrou dog, is he?”

  “Are you going to give him back?”

  I instantly cover the dog’s ears. “Never! Do you give back your child when he throws a tantrum?”

  I notice something new in the yard, and realize that Kay bought him a doghouse. How sweet is that? But she’s going to be beside her-self when Rhett is full-grown. Kay, the woman who has her Tupperware sorted and numbered, has been looking after the future Conan the Dog for the week. I glance into the garage and there’s an enormous bag of dog food beside a brand-new, giant dog bed. Clearly, she’s noticed his paws. I’m in so deep.

  Meanwhile, Kevin’s still smiling. “Look at the size of that dog bowl. It’s like its own lake.” Rhett is right at my heel, as handsome as ever. I rub his ears until he lies down on my feet. “It’s okay, Kevin. He can’t get much bigger.”

  “You’ve only been gone two weeks, Ashley.”

  Clearly, Rhett has hardly begun to blossom. I start to bite my nails, and I don’t even bite my nails. Exhaling deeply, I know it’s time to face the music. “I better find Kay. I think we need to have a discussion.” Rhett comes in behind me, nipping at my feet like a tiny Pomeranian.

  I go into the house, and it’s covered with dust and there’s this frantic, consistent pounding. I walk to the noise: my bathroom, but it’s not there. It’s a few sparse two-by-fours and a dusty Kay in the middle of it. Rhett is barking. “Shh, Rhett. Kay, what’s going on?”

  “You’re finally back, huh?” Kay is whacking the wall with a sledge hammer. “Demolition. It’s cheaper to do it by myself, and with your little pony out there, he’s done enough damage on his own, so I figured I’d get started.” Kay is covered in the chalky white dust of broken Sheetrock, and the toilet is lying well away from its rightful place with only a metal ring marking its previous location.

  “So we’re sharing a bathroom now?”

  Kay’s eyes thin into slivers, and I could swear she’s about to utter, “I’ll get you my pretty, and your little dog, too.�
� But she doesn’t say anything; she just goes back to taking her aggression out on the wall. My bathroom wall. My former bathroom wall.

  “If you need a place to stay . . .” Kevin says behind me, and Rhett has found his way onto my bed, which is covered with a layer of dust and dog hair.

  “That’s the bathroom I just purchased, Kevin. There’s a mortgage attached to that nonexistent toilet. She could have asked.”

  “She’s probably saying the same thing about you and the dog.”

  “Don’t you have a life to save somewhere?”

  “Yes, and she’s standing in front of me,” he answers plainly. “If you want to stay at my place . . .”

  “Oh yeah, that’s appropriate.” I roll my eyes, wondering what I invoke in men to make them think sharing a room with me is an option. My clothes clearly say well-bred and sophisticated. They do not read on-the-make.

  “I’m never home, Ashley. I can sleep at the hospital. I didn’t mean I’d be there. Besides, you have some painting to do there anyway, don’t you?”

  He actually means I can have his place, and I’m struck by his devotion to me, which is so undeserved. So completely mystifying. Whatever he sees in me, be it Mensa material or some strange preoccupation with the average-looking, I wish Seth saw it too. It would have made my life so much less complicated. Kevin is not an option. Doesn’t he get that?

  I look him straight in the eye. “Am I the type of woman who gets married?” I whisper to avoid Kay’s overhearing. “Or am I the type you think will grow old gracefully and alone? Perhaps bitterly?”

  Kevin lifts a single brow. “I think you’re whatever type of woman you want to be. You just have to be quiet and hear God’s voice.” Then he turns away from me, and I hear a whisper trying to mimic the voice of God. “You were created to be a doctor’s wife.”

  He steps closer, and I feel a warm breeze, like a Hawaiian evening. A mist of comfort overcomes me, and for the first time, I wonder if he actually feels anything for me. I always thought Seth was a practical choice. Kevin is everything but practical.