“I’m fine with authority. Generally speaking. As long as it’s mine,” I quip.
“Well, it’s going to be yours, but remember that with authority comes responsibility; and when a patent doesn’t get issued, it will be on your head, not mine.”
“I figure I can blame you for another six months. There’s that whole lag thing going on.”
Purvi laughs at this. “I’m sure you do. But I’m hoping you’ll last a long time in this job now that you’re prepared.”
I want to hug her, but of course, this is Silicon Valley and this is Purvi. As wonderful as Purvi is, she’s not the warmest chick in the incubator.
“So I’ll e-mail you when I get to India, and you can ask me any questions you have.”
Purvi comes toward me, her hand extended. “I’ve enjoyed working with you. You are priceless, Ashley. I wish I could be here for your wedding, but my thoughts will be with you.” She shakes my hand and scrambles out of the office.
So I guess that’s it. I’m the boss again.
“Ashley?” Seth pokes his bald head in my door. Something in me just wants to slam his scrawny neck in it, but my Christian love wins out, and I repent of my thoughts most rapidly.
“Yeah?”
“Congratulations. I hear you’re officially general counsel again.”
“Yep.” And wasn’t that the most intellectual answer?
“I have to talk to you about something before you hear it from someone else.”
His brows are knit together as one, like Bert’s. Of Sesame Street’s Ernie and Bert. “Is this something I should sit for?”
He nods, and I feel my stomach tie into knots. He has no power over me, I remind myself, and yet I dread what’s coming. I know Seth. I know he’s not the demonstrative type, and if he thinks I should sit? I should probably be calling for the defibrillator.
“You and I have been friends a long time.”
“Years,” I say.
“So you know me. You know my nature and my moral standards.”
Right. Those would be the morals that refuse marriage because going steady and a lack of true intimacy are so much more fun.
“Yes, I think I’m quite aware of your personality.” Or lack thereof. Ack! Bad Ashley.
“Arin and I are getting married,” he blurts.
Not sure my eyebrows could rise this high, but yeah, I’m like one big brow-lift “after” picture at the moment.
He hasn’t sat down but is still pacing the five feet of my office. I stand up and swallow. “I thought you were just ‘friends,’ that she was dating someone else from India,” I venture.
He nods for a moment, pulling his hands together behind his back. You know, I realize now that I’m completely over him. I don’t care if he gets married, but Arin doesn’t love him, and I feel this in my veins. She’ll pull him around like a monkey on her string. Seth’s whole life will be keeping up with his high-maintenance wife wherever her whims lead her. So far it’s been Costa Rica and India, but who’s to say where her shallow breeze will take her next? I know it’s awful to think this way of a missionary. But there are bad missionaries just like there are bad patent attorneys, and I’m sorry, but Arin is a bad missionary.
Forgive me. “Why would you marry her, Seth? Because she’s beautiful? Beautiful women are a dime a dozen. You can do better than her. I don’t like the way she leads men on, and I don’t like the way her mission trips seem to coincide with where she wants to vacation. I don’t like how she doesn’t stick with anything. Marriage is a commitment; she can’t commit to a country of residence.”
Seth holds his hand up. “Stop right there, Ashley. I don’t need to hear anymore. Arin is pregnant.”
Okay, my eyebrows can, in fact, go higher. I feel for my chair behind me. “She’s pregnant,” I repeat as I steadily find my seat.
“The baby’s not mine. I don’t want you thinking I had anything to do with this. She got pregnant by the guy she was dating, but his family doesn’t approve of her.”
“She’s pregnant.” And he’s going to marry her. Seth loved me and he wouldn’t marry me, but he’s going to marry her carrying someone else’s baby. Bad B-movie here, people. Or an episode of Dynasty. I try to digest this information, but my mouth is still running. “You’re going to marry Arin?”
“I am.”
“When?”
“We’re going to Tahoe this weekend.”
My stomach drops. “Seth, not even a church wedding?” I knew this day would come, when Seth would finally give in to commitment. I just thought it would be for love. That, I could deal with.
“What church is going to marry us, Ashley? She’s pregnant. It’s not my baby. She’s thirteen years younger than me. We’re not exactly ready to be on staff for Campus Crusade, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Ashley, I have to. Arin wants her baby, and I want her baby to have a future.”
“What if the father comes back and wants the baby too? What then?”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“She wouldn’t lie to me.”
“Seth, she’s been a missionary for the last year. She’s been living a lie. Does she love you? Why you?”
“My faith means nothing to me if I don’t stand up and do what’s right,” Seth answers with squared shoulders and the attitude of Superman.
“What does that mean to you, doing what’s right? Seth, please explain this to me so I can understand it. Because I don’t understand it!”
“You, Ashley, will be fine. You always will be fine, and I knew that. I knew you never needed the likes of me. I knew you loved me, but I never thought it would be enough. You’re too strong-minded, too set in your ways, and too in love with life to settle for the world I’d give you.”
“Do you really believe that? That’s how you justified dumping me publicly? You were doing me a favor? How heroic that makes you seem, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Would you be happy with me, Ashley? Could I give you what you wanted? The truth now.”
I look away. “Seth, I’m not saying we were meant to be together. Now that I’m with Kevin, I understand that. But because I understand it, I don’t want you to settle.”
“That’s funny, because I see it as the first stand-up thing I’ve done in a long time. I’ll be a good father to this baby. I think I’ll be a good husband to Arin.”
“Have you talked to Pastor Max?”
Seth nods. “He’s coming with us to witness the marriage in Tahoe. He’s counseled us on what we’re getting ourselves into and will continue to counsel us after the wedding.”
“I don’t know what to say to you.” I catch a glimpse of those tanzanite eyes, and I think how sad it is that Arin won’t have them on her child. I know women get pregnant. I know sex outside marriage is a fact of life, but it feels different when your ex falls victim to its consequences.
“When’s she due?”
“December. She’ll start to show soon, so we’re going to make this quick.”
“What can I do?”
“Just wish me luck. And prayers would be good.” Seth slaps his thighs and reaches for the doorknob.
“I pray this marriage is perfect in the eyes of the Lord.” Because it sure reeks in my book.
“Keep this between us, all right?”
I nod and watch him walk away. I’ve become accustomed to Seth’s back, but this time I feel like shouting, “Dead man walking!”
27
Rather than think about the pathetic remnants of my life, I work until 9:00 p.m. Patents have a beautiful cadence to them, a rhythm, if you will: the hint of an idea comes like a dewy whisper to an engineer’s ear, the fruit of his nectar brought to my office for the collection of research. Then there is the budding flower of the patent application visited by the hummingbird of the U.S. Patent Office.
Clearly, I have been working too long. I’m writing bad patent poetry in my warped, ca
ffeine-laced mind. I know I’ve gone over the edge as I think about publishing it. Engineer poetry is not exactly on the New York Times best-seller list, now is it?
“Are you ever going home?” Tracy is at my door. She looks beat and isn’t wearing any makeup, which for her is like being naked. Remember, she is the scarlet lipstick queen. “Even Purvi didn’t work this late.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “Have you been here the whole time?”
“No, I’m back for the international shift to answer phones.” She slaps her cheeks. “I’m giving my skin a breather. I didn’t think anyone but security would be here. Did you eat something?”
I have to think about this. “I’ve had a lot of coffee, and if you count nondairy creamer as food, then yes, I’ve eaten.”
“What are you doing here so late?”
“Right now? Writing bad patent poetry.”
“I’m not even going to ask.”
“Yeah, that’s probably best.”
“I heard about Seth.” Tracy stares at me as if hoping for some reaction.
“Heard what about him?”
“He got some girl knocked up, and he’s marrying her.”
“He did not get some girl—” But I stop here. Of course he doesn’t want people knowing this isn’t his baby. Duh. Pregnancy, people will understand. This situation with Seth, not at all. “Seth will make a good father. Hopefully, a good husband too.”
“Yeah. Whatever. It sort of surprised me. He doesn’t come off as the kind who could get a date. You, I understood. You like the smart ones, but a young thing sleeping with him? Weird.” She shakes her head. It’s amazing how much the admins actually see in the office. “Do you want me to get you something to eat?”
“No, I’m leaving.” I grab my sweater and slip into my heels, but my cell phone rings, and I see it’s Kevin. For the first time, I’m not sure I want to talk to Kevin, I think as my anger returns. Help me, Lord!
Tracy stares at me. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
“Yeah.” I answer the phone, but I don’t say anything into the receiver.
“Ashley? Are you there?” Kevin asks.
“I’m here.”
“Where are you, at work?”
“Yes. I had Tracy cancel with the pastor. We were supposed to start our premarital counseling tonight. Remember?”
“Ashley,” he sighs. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot, and I guess being across the country, I wouldn’t have been much help anyway.” He mumbles something to someone at the other end of the line. Doctor words I don’t understand. “I heard the luncheon with my mom didn’t go well.”
“You could say that.” Or you could say that Wife Swap is something your mother is hoping for, before our marriage takes place.
“Tell me what happened.”
“No. Tell me about Philadelphia and our new house. Is Starbucks down the street?” Kevin misses—or ignores—my tone and my sarcasm.
“Ash, it’s fabulous! The program is better than I imagined. This is everything I want. It’s the training I just know was designed for me. Ordained by God. Every piece of information I received today only confirmed more that this is where I’m being called.”
“Great.” And it is great. I want Kevin to be happy, but where I stand in the midst of all this is a mystery. Would I ever see him if we move across the country for a job? Or would I be sitting in a Starbucks, drinking corporate espresso, alone on my wireless Internet, getting into political arguments with complete strangers for lack of a job? “Purvi left today. They’re not hiring another general counsel. I’m it.”
“Ash, that’s great! See, you’re so good they promote you even when you fight it.”
Kevin, you’re missing the obvious.
“I don’t like being general counsel, actually. Too much politics, not enough patents. Besides, if you’re seriously considering Philly, and it sounds by your father’s real-estate ventures that you are—”
“I know you don’t like general counsel,” Kevin says, avoiding the hot house topic. “But that’s because it stretches you. It’s good to stretch, Ashley. You don’t want to be caught in a rut like the Reasons, do you?”
“Speaking of which, you should probably know that Seth and Arin are getting married.”
Silence.
“Did you hear me? I don’t think Seth wants it announced as public fodder, but I figured since it was your ex-girlfriend, my ex-boyfriend, and you and I are now engaged, all in one happy, dysfunctional Friends-like arrangement, you might want to know.”
“Well, that’s shocking. Any reason behind this odd engagement? I have to say, I didn’t think Seth had it in him to get married. I considered it a definite plus as I tried to steal away the woman I wanted from right under his nose.”
I was stolen?
“They’re getting married this weekend,” I announce.
“This weekend? What’s the rush?”
“True love can’t wait,” I say facetiously.
“Isn’t there a book called True Love Waits?”
“Well, it’s not waiting past this weekend for Seth and Arin.”
“Ashley, forget about them. What happened with my mother today? Can’t you just work on being nice? For me?”
Hey, I was nice. I didn’t hurt her! And what about the house here, buddy! “She wants a certain kind of meal. Served a certain kind of way, but oh, wait a minute! It’s my wedding. So I protested. Albeit, maybe a little too much, because it cost me a pair of eighteen-dollar fishnets.”
“It’s our wedding, and I would think you’d be grateful to my mom and sister for all they’ve done. Think about how much they’ve spent on airfare alone trying to help us out!”
They could own controlling stock in Southwest for all I care. “I don’t want a buffet, Kevin,” I say in clipped tones. “How will Eve get her food?” I ask, referring to our friend with MS.
“I’ll get it for her, Ashley. John or Brea will get it for her. We shouldn’t be designing our wedding around one guest.”
“We’re not designing around a guest. We’re designing it the way I want it. I thought you told me I had free rein. Now that your mother has spoken, apparently you didn’t really mean that. I don’t want to be standing around in my wedding gown and trying to pick at buffet food, waiting for buffalo wing sauce to stain my Vera Wang. A meal should be placed before me, like the princess I am for the day. I get dizzy when I don’t eat, and I’ll be too nervous to pick the right food. Since when did you start caring about the wedding details anyway? Free rein, you said,” I repeat, none too gently.
“I care since you’re upsetting my mom and sister with the your-way-or-the-highway routine.”
“My way? Your sister canceled my wedding dress! She’d have Confederate flag-waving skinheads with swords if I let her. Your mother is telling me what to serve for dinner and insinuated my slacks were inappropriate. She’s been in a St. John knit every time I’ve ever seen her. Do I reproach her on overall lack of wardrobe creativity? No, because I believe in personal choice. And as the bride, I believe in personal choice for moi on my wedding day.”
“Ashley, my mother has thrown society parties for my dad’s colleagues her whole adult life. Surely you can handle some advice. It’s not like you’re Kay in the kitchen.”
I gasp. “Did you just say what I think you did?”
“Are you going to deny it?”
“So what are you saying? I should learn how to be barefoot and pregnant? Maybe cook a four-course meal wearing pearls? In my dumpy fixer-upper in Philly? Are you all part of this evil plan?”
“Now you’re just being nasty. A Bridezilla, as my sister called it.”
“Bridezilla? How dare you run off to another state, leave me here to deal with your control-freak family, tell me I have free rein, and then renege on that completely when they tell you what they want. I am not going to live my entire life answering to your mother and your sister. This is apparently what will happen, because you swore yo
u’d back me up.”
“You’ve been a fine sport, but it’s getting down to the wire now. You’re overburdened at work, and you just don’t want to give up any of the control here. I’m saying both our lives would be easier if you’d let someone else handle something.”
“So you want me to show up dressed like Scarlett? Because that’s what will happen. And I hope you look good in Rhett tails, because you’ll be dressed like a Civil War dandy! You should be thanking me for standing up for us, because you would look like a grown-up Ken doll dressed by your little sister if it weren’t for me! Rhett Butler Barbie.”
“You’re not yourself. We’ll talk about this when I get home. Do you think you can get through the floral arrangements without drawing blood?”
“Are you moving to Philadelphia?”
“I don’t know yet. I figured we’d discuss it when I came home.”
“Discuss it like here’s what you are doing, and I can choose to come along? Or discuss it like you actually might stay here, and we’ll have the life we planned? You doctor. Me lawyer. In California.”
“The latter, Ashley. This is our decision now. But, Ashley, this job is perfect for me. You can always get your license to practice here.”
“I’ve lived here my whole life, Kevin. I don’t know how to live anywhere else.”
“Maybe it’s time for a change.”
“I’m general counsel,” I say emphatically. “Isn’t that change enough?”
“You just said you hated that job.”
“But I’m important, and what was all that about being stretched? I’m a regular Gumby now.”
Kevin laughs. “You’re important whatever you do, Ash, and it would stretch you to move too. Think about it, home of the Constitution. Ashley Stockingdale, patent attorney at large.”
“Kevin, your parents bought us a house. For a job you don’t even have yet—”
“Actually, I do. They said the job was mine if I wanted it.”
The wind rushes from my lungs. “So what are you saying?”
“I’m just giving you options, Ashley.”
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