Brea is struggling not to cry. Her procedure is fresh in her mind. Normally, Brea cannot keep her hands off a new baby, and she didn’t go near little Fitzsimon. This is a crisis that can only be solved with food. We head to the Fountain Creamery for burgers and milk-shakes. It’s the only known antidote for grown-up cheerleaders.
I don’t say anything to Brea. I just order us lots of fat and calories. Suddenly, as we’re waiting for our food, Brea starts to laugh. “You gave her your phone number! You loser! I can’t believe you did that. Do you remember her brother?”
I scowl. “Yes, he was in glee club with me.”
“’Nuff said, huh?”
“I’d rather not discuss it. I’ve been dumped by lesser men than Dan Hollings. It’s the least of my issues. I had to rush my purchase for Nancy Hollings—that’s the real struggle here.” I tap my fore-finger on the table. “I came to buy underwear, and my thought process was rushed. I didn’t even get undies to match.”
“You can take it back. It’s kind of ugly,” Brea says.
I open my mouth to discuss the mesh thong, but decide enough is enough. “I don’t really care if it is ugly. I bought it, and maybe wearing it will give me some new aura.” It’s now two o’clock in the afternoon and I know Cinderella’s glass slipper is in jeopardy. “Does John expect you home?”
Brea’s ready to break down again. “I think I can’t be away from him much longer today. I’m a wreck.”
“I’m going to the beach today, so I’ll drop you off back home as soon as we finish. You need to eat.”
“You’re going to the beach by yourself ?” Brea asks. “That’s kind of sad.”
“Today is the first day of my new life,” I explain. “I’m going to cut my hours back to fifty a week.” My attention is suddenly arrested. “Hey, look over there. You see that guy?”
“The one who looks like Hugh Jackman?” Brea asks.
“Yes, him. I think that’s Arin’s boyfriend. I’ve seen him once or twice at church.” I gaze at him. If Arin has this kind of gorgeous in her back pocket, is there any reason she shouldn’t leave Seth to me? I think not.
“I wonder if he knows where his girlfriend is today,” Brea smirks.
“He’s having lunch with a pretty girl himself. I’m going to ask.” I get up, being the new, pushy broad that I now am, and walk over to this stranger’s table. He’s a hottie. I’m trying very hard not to notice because I don’t want to trip over my tongue when I get to the table. But the fact that he has brains is just painful because he’s beyond gorgeous. With his looks, he should be a grunt construction worker, kind of on the level of that Joe Millionaire, a clean-up carpenter. With a tool belt. Yeah.
The table seems miles away and the walk endless because his to-die-for smile is focused on me. I get to the table and stand there like an idiot. I know I had something to say. Lord, what was it?
“Hi,” Hugh says first.
“Hi, I’m a friend of Arin’s.” No, no, no. I was supposed to say, “Are you a friend of Arin’s?”
“Sure, I’ve seen you at church on a few occasions. I’m Kevin Novak.” He stands up and takes my hand. I can barely speak. His green eyes are now hovering somewhere about six inches above my head, and his hand is warm to the touch. I really need to get a life. He extracts his hand from mine, which is plastered tightly around his. “And this is my study partner, Joanie Bradley.”
Joanie nods at me. She’s a bit overweight and clearly shy about meeting me. I hold my hand out and use my eyes to tell her I understand. Girls like us don’t usually mingle with handsome doctors, but it’s okay, because he’s taken. She smiles and shakes my hand.
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
“Arin told me she was having lunch with you and the singles group today,” Hugh/Kevin says.
Actually, she’s flirting with a bald, middle-aged engineer I once had a crush on, but we won’t focus on that. Next subject. “I wasn’t up to lunch with the gang, so I bailed. I’m here with my best friend.” I point toward Brea, who is relishing her milkshake and watching the events like they’re playing out for her own private entertainment. “But she’s got to get home.”
“Me too.” Joanie stands up. “Thanks for the help on that brain stem portion. I was lost.” Throwing her napkin on the table she says goodbye and leaves.
I am standing with the Christian Hugh Jackman. Me. Ashley. Even if it’s only momentarily, I want to drink it in, so that some-day I can tell my nieces and nephews that I did come in contact with greatness once.
“We’ve got a big test coming up,” he explains. “I’ve been studying constantly.”
“So I’ve heard. What kind of medicine are you studying?”
“Pediatric surgery. That’s why I’m at Stanford; I want to work at the Lucille Salter Children’s Hospital.”
Sigh. Okay, so not fair. Men who look like this do not have a right to be decent human beings. He should be the pig I want him to be, that everyone expects him to be.
Why on earth is his girlfriend flirting with Seth Greenwood? Is she blind? Deaf ? Stupid? All three? I just want to rail on God a bit for putting such a lack of intelligence into that little figure. I like Arin, but she’s rapidly grating on my nerves.
“That sounds like challenging work, Kevin. Congratulations, it’s not many men that pick pediatrics anymore.”
“How did you know that?”
Oh my, how do I tell him I read it in People or something equally benign? I decide to just shrug it off. “Well, I should get back to Brea. I need to drop her back home before I go to the beach.”
“You’re going to the beach? You know, I’ve been here at Stanford for a year, and I’ve never ventured over to the beach since I arrived.”
“You haven’t been to the beach?” Okay, that’s a little weird. “Your girlfriend made me promise her I’d do something wild. I’m afraid that’s as racy as it gets for me. Going to the beach by myself with my convertible’s top down. I have to go home to take it off. My top, I mean. The convertible’s top.” I laugh, a little too loudly. I am a geek. Do I have to announce it?
“You want some company?”
Okay, breathe. Take a breath.Was I not just lambasting Arin for flirting with Seth? Would I dare take her boyfriend to the beach? No, the new Ashley Wilkes Stockingdale lives by faith, not by selfish desires.
“I’m not sure what Arin would think of that.”
“Let’s call her and ask.” Kevin takes out a cell phone and dials his girlfriend. I swallow hard and try to remain calm, but my foot is tapping out my restless energy.
I am setting myself up for failure. And Brea is watching the entire fiasco while sucking down a milkshake. That’s as good as having it on video because she will replay it and replay it and replay it. Tivo has nothing on Brea.
10
Must I remind myself that this is my life, not a romantic lead’s on the silver screen? I am not Julia Roberts. I am not Meg Ryan. My brief moment with greatness was briefer than I’d hoped. After Kevin called Arin, she suddenly needed help moving furniture. He ran over there like an engineer to morning espresso.
I had no intentions of actually going anywhere with Kevin, anyway. This is the new Ashley. The upstanding, non-workaholic Ashley. Still, Brea tried to pick up my shattered pieces off the Fountain Creamery’s floor. It was just the realization of being “ditched” by two guys for the same woman in the same day. New realm of pathetic.
Granted, maybe my motives weren’t exactly godly in my desire for company, but I still want to stamp my feet like a toddler. Why, when the men outnumber the women here in Silicon Valley, do they all want one in particular? Can’t they share the wealth?
While Kevin was schlepping Arin’s furniture, Seth was probably home strategizing his next move for Arin’s heart—a game of romantic chess in which I am the pawn.
Since I feel no compunction whatsoever to keep a promise to the bubbly blonde who has coaxed all of the male species into her lair, I nix the idea of the beac
h alone. Now I don’t blame Arin. She can’t help it that men fall at her feet, but I don’t have to delude myself that a trip to the ocean will suddenly make me a wanton goddess, either.
I watch Masterpiece Theatre’s The Forsyte Saga on videotape, and wallow in my present misery. I cry out for sexy Soames Forsyte and his delicious red hair pining after stupid Irene who doesn’t want him. Doesn’t she get it? Soames is ever faithful—he just has a little control issue. Some women wouldn’t know a good man if he bit them.
Monday morning comes finally! I walk into work, ecstatic to be there, and throw myself into something I understand—because the game of love is far too complicated for my simple mind. Purvi is already at her desk. That means my desk is now covered with what she’s been doing all morning, and I will not accomplish anything on my own daily agenda until after six p.m. It’s going to be a late night. But I’m here, and I won’t have to think about my non-existent love life for five whole days.
Purvi sees me and puts her coffee cup down with a clunk. “Ashley, I’m glad you’re finally here.” Finally? It’s eight a.m. “I need you to go to Taiwan next week.”
Like my life is not bad enough here in Silicon Valley . . . I should definitely get sent to a third-world, earthquake-prone country with bad food, where I’m six inches taller than all of the men, just to really make my pitiful existence complete.
“Good morning, Purvi,” I say, hoping to put off the Taiwan talk until my first cup of java. “How was your weekend?”
Plan diverted. “We’re suing for patent infringement,” Purvi explains.
“Patent infringement?” I rub my hands together. “I get to defend a patent?” It’s every patent lawyer’s dream to defend a patent, well, a solidly-written one, anyway. A patent is not truly yours until it’s been defended in court, and this is my chance to make history. To ensure my name will be on the record books for-ever and my name on the payroll for another year.
I know it’s my chance to shine, but thinking about the bad food gets the best of me. Here in California, we have organic free-range chicken rather than ducks browned and glossed, hanging in shop windows with heads still attached. I will never understand the Asian mindset of looking into the eye of something you’re eating. Fleeting thoughts of vegetarianism often come to mind during my business trips.
To say nothing of those earthquakes. It’s like a bad dream, traveling elsewhere on the Pacific Rim. Sure, I may live in earthquake country now, but we have these things here called building codes. Our hotels won’t fall flat like a stack of sesame pancakes when the Big One hits. All those pictures of earthquakes of yester-year and their aftermath will roll through my mind in slide form while I’m trying to sleep in a stinky Taiwan hotel, making me thankful I have eternal life—in case I screw this one up and end it with business travel . . .
“Purvi, do you think this patent is important enough for news-paper coverage?” Translation: Will I be able to single-handedly save our free market with this trip? Will Seth read about my wondrous acts of valor and be sorry? Will Hugh/Kevin leave Arin because he will only have eyes for me?
Purvi’s normally beautiful uptalking Indian accent drives me crazy in lecture form. “The important thing is that we must uphold our patents in these foreign countries,” she crosses her hands at her desk. “Without such action, American and Taiwanese companies will flood the market with this—this inferior garbage. They will steal our market share. Not to mention, selling our product for a tenth of fair market value. It’s a show of force that must be carried out.” She says it like Patton. “Are you up for the job?”
“Yes, ma’am!” I salute her. Of course I understand all she’s saying, but I want to know what’s in it for me. Not that she would ever care about that. At this point, I’ll just have to try to focus on the weight I will lose. “When do I leave, Purvi?”
“You’re booked on the Sunday flight out. EVA Air, not United. We’re serving the Evil Empire with papers this time, too. I’ll be going to Seattle this week.”
My chest drops. She gets to go to Seattle? That’s where the career building case is! All while I get sent to a third-world country to fulfill the humor factor. Defending a patent in Taiwan is a bit of a joke since they rarely adhere to any promises made in the meetings. Meanwhile, Purvi becomes the next VP, and I languish in the trenches. Not only does Purvi get the better case, she gets gourmet coffee too!
Once at my desk, I see it’s covered with the work Purvi has been attending to all morning. When her neighbor takes her son to work, I certainly pay the price. There’s a sense of dread as I notice an envelope my landlord dropped off last week. I’m sure it’s only the dates they’ll be spraying for ants, but I never opened it, and now I’m wondering if I’ve already been asphyxiated and perhaps that’s the cause of my latest dating skirmishes. Ant poison.
Ripping open the envelope, my eyes scan over everything and rest on the words: “One month to vacate the premises.” On careful inspection, I see that due to the failing economy, my landlord has decided to get out of the rental business. He will be turning the apartments into condominiums and selling them off one-by-one as affordable housing. On an up note, I can have first crack at purchasing said condo after the remodel, for a mere $40,000 down payment. Gag. Cough. Sputter.
Greater panic engulfs me as I realize the notice is a week old. Which actually leaves me three weeks to find a new place to live. Two weeks if you subtract my forced labor in Taipei. Grabbing the envelope, I rush back into Purvi’s office.
“Purvi, my apartment is gone. I’ve got three weeks to find a new place.”
She looks around me toward my office and into the pile of manila that waits for me on my desk. “That’s going to be tough, especially with your trip coming up.”
“I had planned to buy a place in May, but not this place.” Heaven only knows why I offer up this little tidbit of information. Clearly, Purvi doesn’t care about my plight, and my real estate aspirations are hardly her concern. She’s suing the Evil Empire. And I have a housing issue in the Bay Area. How novel.
Purvi slams a pen down on her desk for effect. “Ashley, you were already off last Monday for your friend’s baby problem. You haven’t been putting in nearly the hours. I never even saw you this weekend. You’ve got a mountain of work on your desk.” Her voice softens. “Maybe until this lawsuit passes, you should just move in with your parents. That would be the easiest thing.”
A stab to the heart. I clutch my chest in disbelief. Did she just say move in with my parents? She clearly does not understand that my loser brother lives there, or that he’s probably bringing home his foreign bride. I slap my forehead. “The wedding.”
“What now?” Purvi is obviously annoyed with me. She has the uncanny ability to drop all emotion from her work day. Me, I’m a tightly-wound wad of nerves, and for the moment I’ve forgotten how to hide them. I am an unraveling yo-yo with no hope of springing back up.
“My brother’s getting married next month. I forgot. I’ve got to help my mother plan the shower.”
Purvi shrugs. “Like I said, move in with your parents for a while. It sounds like you have a lot on your plate.” She goes back to reading her briefings. “You should be happy you still see your parents. I haven’t seen mine since I married my husband’s family. They are my family now. Take advantage while you still can.”
Ah, I only wish marriage and a move would fix my family issues so easily. The phone in my office is ringing, and I take the opportunity to run out of Purvi’s office. Picking up the phone, I am sublimely professional, hoping to show Purvi I’m getting it together.
“Ashley Stockingdale.”
“Ashley, it’s Seth.”
Long exhale and I slam the door to my office with my foot. “Seth, it’s really not a good time. I’m a bit overwhelmed with work and projects right now.” Far too busy to discuss your harrowing love life. Welcome to the world of Reason people. Doesn’t feel too good when the season passes, now does it?
He c
ontinues though. “I thought about what you said yesterday in the parking lot. I want to talk to you about it more, so just call me when you get more time. We’ve got too much history to just let this slip away.”
“Let what slip away?”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I clench my eyes shut. How is it he can date someone else and I’m left feeling like I’m crushing him? Where does the guilt come from?
“Just call me when you get a chance, Ashley. We need to talk.” He hangs up the phone and I’m left, clutching the receiver. Does he get it? Or am I in for another round of cluelessness, engineering style?
I’m starting to lose it. Nothing in my life is certain anymore, and the questions feel overwhelming like when The Bachelor and American Idol are both on—which do I watch and which do I Tivo? I must prioritize my life; I must put everything into perspective. Kay Harding seems to have it all together. Perhaps, if I just follow her lead for the day . . . that’s the secret: organize. Taking out my Palm Pilot, I enter in my to-do list.
1. Find a new place to live.
2. Plan wedding shower for brother’s mail-order bride.
3. Eat like a winter squirrel to store fat for upcoming freshfest in Taipei.
4. Finish patent briefs and lawsuits for contract attorneys.
5. Call Seth back.
6. Change my pathetic life into something exciting and glamorous.
7. Never wear violet bra again, as it’s ramming itself into my ribcage.
8. Sign up for Internet dating.
9. Find smashing guy friend to pose as boyfriend at brother’s wedding.
10. Find smashing guy friend.
I start to read through all the briefs that Purvi has left on my desk. I begin to concentrate just about the time the phone rings again.
“Ashley Stockingdale.”
“Hi, Ash, it’s Arin.” If the two of them are calling me to announce their immediate engagement, I am going to leave for Taiwan and never come back.
What a Girl Wants Page 8