by Kyra Davis
Allie looked at Caleb like he was crazy. “But she doesn’t want to do that anymore, do you, April?”
I downed my drink quickly and waved the waiter over again. “It’s not practical, Caleb,” I said after ordering my second drink. “Tad’s business is really taking off now and if I truly wanted to be a curator of a major museum I’d have to be open to relocation…”
“You always say that,” Caleb said impatiently. “Perhaps you haven’t noticed but there are a few museums in San Francisco. There’s this little place called the MOMA, and perhaps you’ve heard of the De Young, and—the Legion of Honor. And those are just the more famous places.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” I snapped. “What do you suggest I do? Do you think I should abandon a perfectly decent job at a company where I have a promising future in favor of handing over tens of thousands of dollars to some university? Oh, and the fun doesn’t stop there…” I shook my head vehemently. “Getting into a Ph.D. program is one thing, staying in it is a whole different ball game. And if I did graduate, then what? I still could end up a docent at some second-rate museum in the boondocks. Thank you but I think I’ll stick with the road well traveled.”
Allie’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute, is that why you gave up on the curator thing? Because you don’t believe in yourself?”
The waiter came back with my drink, along with another one for Allie and Caleb. Caleb shook his head. “We only ordered one drink.”
“The gentleman at the bar bought you this round,” the waiter said as he placed a glass in front of each of us.
We all turned toward the bar and the sheer-shirt guy waved. His eyes locked with Caleb’s. A slow smile spread across Caleb’s lips. “Allie, you talk some sense into April. I’m going to thank our new friend.”
Allie leaned forward as Caleb left our table. “Seriously, April, let’s review the situation here. Tad’s doing well, right?”
“I guess,” I hedged. “I need to figure out exactly how many more dollars a month this new client is going to mean to us.”
“But assuming that it’s a decent increase, this would be the ideal time for you to go back to school!”
“It’s not that simple.” I held out my fingers to check off my points of objection. “There are a lot of things you have to do before you get accepted into a Ph.D. program. I’d have to take the GRE, and many programs require you to speak another language….”
“But you speak French, right?”
I held up my cocktail. “Only after three martinis. Otherwise my French is completely incomprehensible.”
Allie wrinkled up her nose in wonder and amusement. “Are you serious?”
I finished the remains of my cocktail in one swig. “Absolument.”
Allie giggled and slapped her hand on the table. “I love it. Well, would you be comfortable going into an interview drunk?”
“Would you be comfortable leaving a bar sober?”
“Point taken. Oh, I know!” She threw up her hands as if to imply that she had just had a major stroke of genius. “I went out with this marine once—he was Intelligence or something. Anyway, he was here for some summer language program that they had through Berkeley, five days a week, five hours a day of full immersion. If it’s good enough for ‘the few and the proud’ it’s got to be good enough for the drunken wannabe bilinguals.”
I shook my head and then abruptly stopped when I realized that the objects in the room were beginning to blur together. “I can’t do a five-day-a-week program…Besides, even if I did, three months isn’t enough…”
“If you can speak when you’re drunk then you can speak sober, too—you just need a little confidence and a refresher course. So quit Dawson’s, get yourself some weekend volunteer work at the De Young or something and start preparing for graduate school.”
“I can’t ask Tad to support me,” I mumbled. I had drunk those lemon drops way too fast.
“Why not? This is the big benefit of being married. Right now Tad is living his dreams so why shouldn’t you get to live yours?”
Good question. I looked over at Caleb, who was now toying with sheer-shirt guy’s buttons. I used to really enjoy picking up men. I liked that initial feeling of anticipation and animal attraction. I gave that up for marriage, which was fine, but there was supposed to be a trade-off and maybe this was it. And wasn’t it just a month ago that Tad had tentatively suggested that I go back to school?
I felt the flutters of excitement creep inside my stomach. “I’m going to talk to Tad tonight and find out where we are financially.”
“And if finances are good?”
“Then you may have to find another person to complain to during Dawson’s Appreciation Meetings.”
Tad was true to his word and didn’t return home until close to 1:00 a.m. He did a little double take when he came in and found me awake and cross-legged on the couch doodling in my sketchbook.
“Why did you wait up?” he asked. I looked up at him in surprise. He sounded inexplicably defensive. Maybe he thought I had waited up so that I could question his latest success, which wasn’t far from the truth. I would have to proceed carefully.
I put my paper and pencil down on the coffee table and stood up to give him a hug. “You smell like wine and pesto,” I commented as I kissed the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah—” he returned my embrace but with little enthusiasm “—I ordered dinner from Calzones and you know how I can never eat Italian without a glass or two of Chianti.”
I pulled back a little. “They delivered a bottle of Chianti?” I asked. “Can they do that?”
“I went down the block and got a bottle at the liquor store.” He pushed me away. “What the hell is this, the Spanish Inquisition?”
“No, I was just wondering.” I wasn’t going to get in an argument over this. “Tad, I am just so excited about this new deal you landed.”
That seemed to soften him up. “This is just the beginning, too. I’m going to make a fortune, April.” He smiled and pulled his tie off, then wrapped it around his hand only to quickly unwrap it again. “Our future is going to be filled with all the things we ever wanted—new cars, boats, expensive jewelry for my beautiful wife.” He put a hand on the outside of my arms and gave me a gentle shake, no longer able to contain his mounting enthusiasm. “I’m telling you, in a few years the sky will be the limit, so start making your wish list now.”
This was my moment of opportunity. “I wish that I could go back to school.”
Tad’s grip loosened as he stared at me in surprise.
“I know what I said last month,” I said quickly, “and I know it’s a long shot. Berkeley has a good Ph.D. program but they require that candidates be fluent in one of the romance languages, which I’m not. They’re offering a language course this summer, and if I just found a weekend sales job somewhere, or something that allowed me to start my shift late in the day, then I could take it.” I stopped long enough to catch my breath and continued, “Of course, even if I got my Ph.D. I might never land a curator job in the Bay Area. But I want you to know I wouldn’t take a job in which we would have to relocate. Your business is here and that comes first—”
“Do it.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say—”
“Quit your job at Dawson’s and go back to school. You can make it happen, April. You’re the smartest, most talented woman I’ve ever met in my life and we don’t need the money from Dawson’s anymore.” Now he was grinning like the Cheshire cat. He walked over to the fireplace and then back to me. “Everything’s going to be great. Better than great. All those people who’ve tried to hold us back, or didn’t believe in us…we’re going to show them, April. We’re going to be on top and nothing can stop us.”
That sounded suspiciously like the line the villains in the Batman movies always used, but I pushed aside the thought and focused on the issue at hand. “This is a really big decision, Tad. If I tell Liz I’m quitting, then that’s it. I might be able to
get rehired as a salesperson but it will be years before they let me manage again.”
“April, listen to me!” He grabbed me by the shoulders. “You don’t need to work there anymore!”
“Well, I wouldn’t quit until I found a part-time job. I should be bringing in some kind of income just in case…”
I saw a dangerous cloud cross over Tad’s face and I immediately amended my half-spoken sentence. “Just in case I got bored. I’ve been working since I was fifteen—longer if you count babysitting—and I wouldn’t feel right if I wasn’t making something.”
The cloud dissipated and he laughed gently. “Far be it from me to stand between you and your need for financial independence. Hey, I have an idea. My admin, Cathy, is going to China next week to adopt a little girl. She’s been looking for someone to share her job responsibilities so that she can leave early two or three days a week. Why don’t you take the job?”
“You want me to work for you?” I asked doubtfully.
“It wouldn’t be more than fifteen hours a week,” he pointed out. “It’s a fairly basic job, not exactly stimulating, but you’ll be paid over twenty an hour and you’ll have weekends off. That beats any retail-sales job you could line up.”
Weekends off! My God, those had to be the most exciting words any man had ever said to me. But I had to think about this clearly. “There’s one possible problem.” I put my hand on his chest and pushed away from him so I was in a better position to meet his eyes. “If I took that job there’s a very good chance that I would end up sleeping with the boss.”
Tad flashed me a wolfish grin. “I would hope so.”
“How would Eric and Sean feel about me working for you?”
“Eric’s wife comes in every month to help us with filing and other stuff, so that won’t be a problem.” He placed a lock of hair behind my ear. “Tomorrow I’ll tell them that in a few weeks you’ll be coming in to assist. Cathy will be thrilled. Just remember that, for you, work is a choice, not a necessity. This last deal that I cut guarantees we’ll be making upward of one hundred and eighty thousand this year.”
I gasped. “Seriously?”
Tad nodded vigorously and gave me a loud kiss on the forehead. “Just wait, it will end up being more then ten times that, I promise. I’m telling you, I’m on top of my game.”
I felt a little faint. Was I really doing this? Could I chuck everything I had worked for at Dawson’s in order to chase the impossible dream just because Tad said we could afford it? What if he was wrong? What if we didn’t make anywhere near that much? Of course he had used the word guarantee. He wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t mean it, right? I needed to stay calm; I had to make sure that Tad understood what he was agreeing to. “Tad, this is going to require a lot of sacrifices on both our parts. I’m going to have even less free time than I do now, and even if you’re making a lot of money we’re going to have to budget more. We should be cutting down on the expensive nights out, and—”
Tad’s lips had moved to my mouth. He kissed me and then gently bit my lower lip. “You worry too much. We’ll do whatever we need to in order to make this happen. Everything will be great.” He worked his way to my shoulder. “You know, I was disappointed that I didn’t have time to celebrate with you earlier,” he murmured between kisses. “Maybe I can make it up to you now?”
He had already made it up to me one hundred and eighty thousand times. I lifted my hands and let them run through his hair. Maybe we could have it all. Tad’s business was obviously living up to its full potential, and if I could pursue a career as a curator…“Everything could be perfect,” I whispered aloud.
Tad straightened up and gazed into my eyes. “April, it already is.”
The next morning I went into work with a letter of resignation in my hand. Tad had been too amped to sleep so he had typed it up for me at three in the morning. He spent the rest of the night writing up new business objectives for SMB and waxing his car. When I woke up at six and found him sorting through old paint samples to help him determine what new color we should paint the bookshelves (that didn’t need painting) I began to worry. But his restlessness was understandable. He was on the road to major success. I tried to imagine what it would be like to be a member of the Silicon Valley Multimillionaire Club. I had a hard time mentally casting myself in the role of socialite, but Tad helped fill out the fantasy: exotic vacations, beautiful houses furnished by Crate and Barrel and Pottery Barn (I’m aware that there are more prestigious brands but neither Tad nor I is familiar with them), a pool in the backyard and a fountain in the front. It would be the perfect palace for Cinderella and her prince to take up residence. Of course, these were still fantasies, but five to ten years down the road it could be our reality.
That morning while setting the floor, Dorita talked incessantly about all the details of her upcoming ten-day trip back to her boyfriend’s hometown in Argentina. She was so excited about the adventure she didn’t notice that my hands were shaking so much I could barely tie a scarf around a mannequin’s neck. What I was about to do was so impulsive. I didn’t really do impulsive—that was Tad’s area. Of course, I did rush into marriage after only three plus months of dating, but once again the credit for that one really belonged to Tad.
Maybe I did need to slow down and think about this. I waited until the store opened before calling Caleb in Cosmetics.
“Well?” he asked as soon as he determined it was me. “Will we be needing reservations at the Bubble Lounge in the near future?”
“It seems I have access to a part-time office job and Tad says the money’s there.” I kept my voice hushed in case Dawson’s version of the Secret Service had the register area bugged.
“Tad says the money’s there,” Caleb repeated slowly. I knew what he was thinking.
“You think I should wait?” I asked reluctantly. “Maybe I’ll just see what the next paycheck looks like.”
“No, do it now,” Caleb said with new definitiveness. “I know you. Given forty-eight hours you’ll have come up with forty-eight reasons why you shouldn’t pursue your dreams. Go to Liz’s office today and call it quits.”
“And if the money isn’t as good as Tad thinks it is?” I didn’t want to go down that road, but this decision required some thought.
“You’ll still be able to afford graduate school. You’ll just have to start shopping at Payless.”
“Bite your tongue!”
“Yeah, yeah, tell it to the starving children in Africa. Besides, if they’re good enough for Star Jones they’re good enough for you. Talk to Liz.”
I felt my heart pound against my chest just at thinking about the conversation. “If this doesn’t work, can I blame you?”
“Absolutely. I’ll even blow up a picture of myself so you can use it for dart practice. Now, go get yourself unemployed.”
I smiled and clutched the phone cord in my sweaty hand. “I really am doing this, aren’t I?”
“At this very moment you’re really not doing it, which is why I’m hanging up the phone. Call me when it’s over.”
I continued to keep the receiver pressed to my ear long after I heard the click. Putting it down meant that I had to move to the next step in my game plan.
“Are you all right?” I turned to see Dorita’s doleful brown eyes looking up into mine with concern. “You look like you just survived a major earthquake.”
I shook my head. “No, but I think I’m about to cause one.”
I told Blakely first. The buyers she shared her office with were in, so she came down to my office in the interest of privacy. She stood next to my desk, her arms crossed confidently in front of her. “So I take it you’ve made your decision.”
I cleared my throat and met her gaze. “Blakely, I want to thank you for being so honest with me. I know it was a risk. But you really opened my eyes to what it takes to make it in this company and helped me determine what my future is with Dawson’s.”
Blakely smiled. “So tell me about t
his Dawson’s future of yours.”
“I don’t have one.”
Blakely’s smile froze in place.
“I can’t be who they want me to be and so I’ve decided that it’s time to move on.” I had to struggle not to swoon as I said the words. “I’m turning in my two-week notice today. I wanted you to be the first to know.”
Blakely’s smile had now turned into a thin straight line. I waited for her to throw out fifty reasons why what I was doing was idiotic.
She uncrossed her arms and smoothed the crinkles out of her blazer. “You’re wasting my time.”
And with that she strode out the door. I stood alone in my office, unsure of how I felt about that little exchange. Obviously I wasn’t an employee worth fighting for. I ran my hand over the customer holds that Blakely had been so emotional about several months back. I had been single then, or at least unmarried. So much had changed in such a short time.
Gigi burst through the door, abruptly putting an end to my stroll down memory lane.
“Hi, April, what’s up?”
“Hmm?” “What’s up” isn’t really an invitation to drop a major bomb.
“You okay? You seem, like…I don’t know…nervous.” Gigi removed her jacket and carefully hung it on a spare hanger.
“Well, I came to a major realization.” I lifted my chin up and offered her a quivering smile. “Actually, it concerns you.”
Gigi dropped the hanger. She looked down at her coat that was now splayed across her feet as if she was unsure of where it came from. “Um, like, what did you realize about me that would make you upset?”
I let out a shaky laugh. “No, that’s not what I meant. The only realization I’ve come to about you is that you’re a better manager than I am, which is one of the reasons I met with Blakely earlier.”
Gigi exhaled audibly and quickly retrieved her jacket. “Okay, sorry…I just thought I had done something wrong by mistake. You know I try to give one-hundred-and-ten percent and all but even I have my ‘oops’ moments and…Wait, you decided I was a better manager so you went to see Blakely? I don’t get it.” She wrinkled her perfect brow and perched herself on top of her desk.