I feel my face burn. “I need an iced tea.” I bolt for the counter.
As I look back, I can see that Seth and Arin actually do make a nice couple. She’s listening to him like his words are pure gold, and I feel my own heart pound at the sight. God, if this is the part where I give up what I want so someone else can be happy, umm, can You rethink that whole idea?
Arin joins me at the counter without Seth. “He seems like a nice guy, Ashley. Have you ever dated him?”
“Seth? No, I haven’t. I’m not really a big dater, actually.”
Arin tosses her hand. “Me neither. What’s the point?”
I shrug. “Don’t you want to ever get married?”
“Ha!” Arin tosses her blonde, healthy, youthful hair. “Not in this lifetime. Well, not before I’m thirty-five, anyway. Not unless I could find someone who wanted to travel the world. Someone who relished life and wasn’t content to just have a day-to-day job like all the robots here.”
“Wait until you’re thirty to say that. Those feelings will change.” I sound like the Scrooge I have become.
“No, really. I’m going to Costa Rica next month on a short-term mission. Then I want to do Africa and a safari. Kevin is too into his work for my tastes, and I’ve really enjoyed my time with him, but if we were both honest, we’d admit we’ve just been keeping each other company.” Arin’s little features crinkle under the dim Starbuck’s light. “Besides, he’s too serious for me to take seriously.” She laughs, a lighthearted tinkling sort of laugh.
“You’re in Silicon Valley, Arin. Everyone’s serious.” A serious, handsome doctor. Maybe she’ll toss him my way.
“I know. And isn’t that the problem? When I was in Italy last summer, people actually took the afternoon off to have a little wine and antipasto. Here, people barely remember to eat. I don’t think I’m cut out to be here.”
“I think I am. But lately I’ve been wondering,” I admit. “I don’t mind working twenty-four/seven. At least, I didn’t used to mind.” I look over at Seth who’s laughing with Sam about his Star Trek performance. I have a longing I just don’t care to feel, and Arin’s indifference to him—her focus on the future, the beyond—only reminds me I’m not comfortable in my own skin. It hasn’t been so long since I’d said the same thing about marriage. And now, according to my brother, and the men of First Community Church, I am bus bait. That Arin still has options about getting married ticks me off.
“Someday my prince will come . . .” she sings.
Ah, to be that naive again. Must change subject before I hurt her. “So, Costa Rica? What are you going to do there?”
“I’ve always wanted to see the rain forest and this mission provides the opportunity. With the economy being what it is, there are no jobs—not that an English Lit major is hot property in this town—so it’s not like I’m missing out on anything.” She blows her long bangs from her face. “If I’m going to be unemployed, I might as well do some good.”
Ah. If only my brother Dave had had her gumption . . .
“What’s to do in Costa Rica?” I ask.
“I met up with this group of dentists who just need hands. I’m going to be helping them work on the locals who live near the coast. I’ll get to go into the rain forest and see the monkeys and the birds . . . we’ll cover quite a bit of territory.”
“Wow,” I say, truly in awe. Here I thought I was adventurous going to the movies without prepurchasing tickets on the Internet.
“You’re lucky this kind of life makes you happy, Ashley.”
I look at Seth who’s still laughing with Sam. “Am I?”
7
I have spent this Sunday morning in meditative prayer. With fasting, the whole bit. I have discerned God’s will for my day, and I am ready to handle anything—peace like a river and all that. I am so darn pacified, I’m positively comatose.
Like driftwood floating on the surf, I feel my melancholy history pass away. Maybe I’ll now be the life of the party like Arin. I have released bad memories from my body into the abyss of my ocean. I leave them on the altar of God’s throne and move forward. Today is the first day of my new faith. I will live without upset. I will not be anxious for anything, but in prayer and petition, I will present my requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard my heart and mind in Christ Jesus. Life is good, and I feel alive.
The phone rings.
“Hello,” I say breathily to show off my new-found pacifist attitude. What good is having it if I can’t share it?
“Ashley, it’s Mom.”
Breathe. This is my first test. “Hi, Mom!” I have vigor. Throw it at me! Tell me I’m old, tell me I’m bus bait, tell me I’m too smart, I can handle it all. I am swathed in prayer, baby!
“Ashley, sorry to hold you up before you go to church, but I didn’t want to miss you. You seem to be at church all the time anymore.”
“That’s okay, Mom.” I should be starring in a La-Z-Boy commercial. I am downright giddy, I’m so at peace.
“I’m calling about your brother.”
“He’s lost his job.” I let out a long breath.
“No, nothing like that. Why would you say something like that, Ashley? Your brother is a fine bus driver.” She clicks her tongue. “Sometimes I just don’t know what to make of you. You’ve had everything at your fingertips. Your brother was never as gifted as you, Ashley Wilkes Stockingdale.”
Ack! The full name treatment. “Sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean anything by it. Dave is a great bus driver,” I say through clenched teeth. My peaceful front is leaving me. No! Reset.
“I’m calling because Dave is getting married, honey.”
My knees buckle, my stomach nearly wretches. Did I hear her correctly? My pot-smoking, homeless, no-ambition brother is getting married before me. My younger brother. Okay, God, I know I just spent the morning talking to You, but I am so not talking to You right now!
“Since last week? Did he get someone pregnant?” Where is this peace I prayed for? My calm, Christlike reaction? I sound like I’m on Ricki Lake, not Billy Graham.
“Ashley! What a horrible thing to say. Nobody’s pregnant. We like her very much. She’s a nice girl.”
“Does she speak English?” There it is again, that uncontrollable mouth!
“A little bit, why do you ask?”
“Put Dave on the phone, Mom. I want to congratulate him.”
I wait a bit while the shuffling goes on. Clearly, Dave is still in bed. And why wouldn’t he be? It’s only 9 a.m.
My brother and I have had this invisible, yet all-consuming, competition since we were children. It’s time to move past it. I’m going to congratulate him, and I’m going to be happy about it. Even if it kills me.
“Hey, ever-a-bridesmaid.” He laughs so hard he snorts. “What do you think of my news?”
I know he’s just jealous. I know he’s just jealous. Rise above this; it’s the only way to move out of a desperate pattern. Lord God, help me out here!
“Dave, this really is great news. Where did you meet her?” My voice is calm. But then my mouth is moving again: “The immigration department?” Ack, I meant to say that silently.
Dave is nonplussed by my attack. “Just because I’m getting married and you can’t get a date is no reason to be angry with me, Sis,” he says with all the gentleness of a psychologist. “Someone will come along someday. I hear Florida is a good place to find wealthy widowers. Maybe you should put in for a transfer. Of course, I hear they go pretty quickly. Both to marriage and death! Better hurry.” He laughs again.
I ignore him. “What’s your fiancée’s name?”
His tone changes. “Mei Ling. She’s from Hong Kong. Her father passed away when they got here, and she’s been living in Michigan for the past ten years.”
My heart swells for this woman. I don’t know her, but she’s marrying my brother. If that isn’t enough to garner sympathy, I don’t know what is. If Mei Ling was a citizen, I might
be more inclined to think she knew what she was getting into, but her immigrant status makes me seriously worried for her long-term happiness. And my brother’s. Yet, I still force thoughts away of myself dancing at their fiftieth wedding anniversary wearing a Haversham gown, bitter that my own day never came.
“Mei Ling. That’s a pretty name.”
Now he speaks in a voice I’ve never heard before. It’s gentle and concerned and quite frankly, freaking me out a bit. “She doesn’t know anyone in the family, Ash. She’s going to need a maid of honor, a bridal shower, and whatever else goes on. The whole routine. It’s a long story, but she’s here now, and of course her family can’t come. China won’t let them go—the commies think they won’t return.”
“Did you say she’s from Michigan?” I ask, but I’m selfishly picturing the bridesmaid’s dress and terror strikes my heart. At its base level, it’s about loss of control. No bridesmaid has control, and what Silicon Valleyite can stand that? “Does she know that maids of honor pick their own gowns? I can take her shopping with me.”
“Nah, she doesn’t know any of those rules,” he says blindly, and my heart starts beating again. If I have to be maid of honor for a sister-in-law I don’t know, I might as well look gorgeous. “You’ll have to fill her in. She was raised in pretty sparse circumstances.”
My guilt overwhelms me. “Dave, that’s not really true. The bride picks everything out.”
“Oh, well, whatever. Mei Ling just wants our family to be happy. Hers won’t be here obviously, and that makes her sad. You’ll do what you can for her, right?”
The softness in my brother’s voice makes me realize that Mei Ling is not just some sucker on the wrong path of life. He cares about her, and for the first time, I think my brother might not be a total screw-up. A heart really beats inside that lumpy chest of his. Do I dare face that? It’s so much easier to write Dave off for the loser he is and leave him for God to fix.
“I’m really happy for you, Dave. I really am.” And now I’m tearing up, which ticks me off. Partly because I don’t want to mess up my makeup, and partly because I realize I really do love my brother. I just want him to be a grown-up, and maybe this is God’s way. Allowing him to do what I wanted most, first. Oh, the humiliation!
“You know, I don’t really think you’re bus bait,” Dave says.
Okay, now I’m totally freaked out. Dave, reaching out to me? After practically being civil for whole minutes of time at Mom’s last week? “Let’s not go overboard,” I say quickly. Unless a woman over thirty does Dave’s laundry, he sees no use for their walking the planet. “Put Mom back on the phone, will ya?”
There’s more shuffling and my mother comes back on the line. “It’s so nice to hear you and your brother talking. Aren’t you thrilled to be the maid of honor?”
“Of course I am.” What does one say to the honor of being held in an esteemed position for someone you’ve never met? It’s strange. But my brother’s getting married. Surely Roswell folklore has nothing on my life.
“She’s such a sweet girl. I think you’ll really hit it off. She reminds me of that little gal you work for, just a bit.”
“Purvi?”
“Purvi, that’s right. Of course she’s Indian and Mei Ling is Chinese, but they’re both small and . . . what’s the word?”
“Asian?”
My mom laughs. “No, dear, not Asian. They’re both . . . Oriental.”
I bang my head on the table. Indian may be technically Asian, but overly-educated, self-sufficient Purvi Sharma and Mei Ling probably have about as much in common as Pamela Anderson and myself.
“Mom, Oriental is kind of considered rude nowadays.” As if living in the Asian rim of California amid a myriad of specialty grocery stores would not tell her that.
“Mei Ling doesn’t mind. You’ve been in that politically-correct business world too long. It’s starting to color your speech. Honestly, Ashley, it’s a wonder you grew up in this house at all.”
“Mom, I’m going to be late for church. When’s the wedding so I know when to plan the shower?”
“They’re having a small wedding next month in the Chinese Church. On Valentine’s Day.”
They have a church? And on Valentine’s Day? Now there’s a depressing thought. I will be wearing a bridesmaid’s gown on the International Day of Love. If that don’t beat all.
“Got it, Mom. I’ll talk with you later about plans. Gotta run.” I hang the phone up, desperate to get to church and pray again. Because I’m already running on fumes here. I want to be happy for my brother, but there’s this petty child inside me screaming at how unfair life is. I’m the oldest; I should be first!
Once at church, I try to listen to the focusing part of the sermon—that message God wants me especially to hear today—but my mind is completely preoccupied. I’m not singing today, which is a good thing, but Seth is seated beside me, which is a very bad thing. He keeps leaning over and whispering to me about Arin and their possible budding relationship. This strange thought floats through my mind, like if I had an old clothespin in my purse like on that old game show, I could clamp his lips shut. Let’s make a deal.
“Did you talk to Arin about me?” he whispers.
“Kind of,” I whisper back. Yes, I told her that you were the bald one. I just shake my head. Nuff said, right? Wrong. This is Seth we’re talking about. And one thing can be said about engineers: They may be clueless in the romance department, but they’re also fiercely competitive. Arin has suddenly become the finish line, and if Seth has to use every last one of his follicles, he’s going to keep running the race.
“Did she say anything about me?”
I can almost see his tail wagging. “Seth, she has a boyfriend.” I whisper too loudly, and my neighbor gives me a dirty look. “Doesn’t it bother you just a little bit that you’re after someone’s girlfriend?”
His eyes widen. Ah, those gorgeous, sparkling, gemtoned eyes. Such a pity they mask the incredible blindness Seth possesses. Life is definitely not fair.
“She’s only twenty-four, Ash. How serious could it be?”
He’s got me there. “Not serious enough to keep her here, I guess. She’s leaving for Costa Rica soon on a mission trip. To work with dentists.” I secretly wonder if foreign mission trips have increased with the Survivor shows. It all sounds so horribly romantic now, doesn’t it?
Arin’s a cappella solo interrupts our conversation, and Seth immediately turns silent. He’s gazing dreamily towards the altar and I feel my stomach turn. He listens with his hands clasped as if he’s hearing the angels sing. I can see his chest heaving as he watches her. I feel for the guy, but there’s a little seething mixed in when I think back to my recent princess-cut diamond fantasies.
The Bible outright tells men that beauty is fleeting, but yet they seem to chase after it like a leaf in a rogue wind, stumbling and grasping, while another more intricate and colorful leaf dangles on the tree.
Arin’s solo ends, and he quickly restarts our conversation. “She’s going where?”
“Costa Rica. On a mission trip,” I repeat. Following Seth’s gaze to Arin, I must admit her beauty is mesmerizing. It’s not her looks. She just has that invisible quality that makes it impossible not to notice her in a room. I wish, just for one day, I could possess that spark. Eyeing Seth now, I know it has its privileges. Seth’s interest, for one.
My statement has just hit Seth full force. He snaps his head like a Roman soldier’s whip. “She’s leaving Silicon Valley?”
I feel the distinct need to soften the blow. “Seth, you barely know her. What if you don’t like her personality? I know she’s pretty but—”
Seth looks at me wistfully. “You know, Ashley, I’ve lived my whole life doing the safe thing. What if there’s some great opportunity out there and I miss it? When you sang the other night at Starbucks, I saw this whole other side of you again. And I wondered what would happen if I took that kind of risk.”
Great. He’s h
olding me responsible for pursuing Arin.
His gaze catches mine and I feel as though he’s looking straight through me. To Arin. “I don’t want to miss God’s will for me because I was too wimpy to act, Ash.”
God has Arin in mind for Seth? Weirder things have happened, I guess. It’s just terrific. While Arin frolics in the Central American rain forest, with Seth anticipating her return, I will be wearing an off-the-rack bridesmaid’s gown for an unknown Asian bride who speaks very little English. And Seth will probably call me or e-mail me, asking for my advice on dates he’ll actually spend money on when Arin returns.
My life reeks like an onion.
8
After church, the singles gang meets up at Chevys, a Mexican restaurant. Vive Mexico! I have seated myself at the middle of the long table, and I watch as Seth jockeys for a position next to Arin. Of course, I’m talking to the woman next to me and she has no idea my attention is directed elsewhere. Do you think there’s a name for this mental condition I so evidently have?
Arin sees me and waves like the princess she is. “Ashley!” She turns quickly and runs directly into Seth who is following like a summertime shadow. “Excuse me,” she giggles.
Seth frowns as Arin moves like a dragonfly around the table, buzzing through the crowds with ease. He is now faced with a Serious Dilemma. Will he risk looking obvious and come around the table, or just remain where he stands and hope I’ll introduce them again after the meal?
And the winner is . . . desperation. He comes and sits on the other side of Arin after she sits down next to me. Noticing his overeager grin, she smiles uncomfortably.
“Hello.” She reaches out a slender hand. Again my heart twists at the action and how it’s completely entranced Seth. You know, it’s one thing to be dumped by a guy. Happens to the best of us, right? But when you have to watch that same guy in the courtship dance for another’s heart, well, that’s just wrong.
“Hi.” Seth reaches toward Arin and knocks a glass of water over, spilling icy liquid into her lap.
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