What a Girl Wants

by Kristin Billerbeck

  Kay comes back, and there’s a glow of sweat on her brow too. Clearly, she’s found an appropriate snack, but at some physical cost. More people arrive and we take out our Bible study on sub-mission. Again with the submission! Wasn’t that Sunday’s lesson enough? Or the twelve other times we’ve studied this?

  The group recaps their previous conversations and then I read a key passage aloud, getting into the lesson in spite of myself. Isn’t that how Bible study works? It’s a pain in the keister to get there, get your brain focused, but when you do, your heart follows. That’s gotta be God. “Servants, be submissive to your masters with all fear, not only to the good and gentle, but also to the harsh. For this is commendable, if because of conscience toward God one endures grief, suffering wrongfully—”

  “You know,” Jerry, a man in his late forties, suddenly speaks up. “This is a good passage. Slavery works in the world. I don’t know why people protest it. Look at those little gals working as prostitutes in Asia. They eat. They have a roof over their head. We should be happy in all circumstances. The Bible says that. I don’t know why we as Americans think we have any right to go into these countries and tell people how to live.”

  The women are all staring at him, mouths agape, waiting for him to correct himself. (Jerry has never been married, but I suppose that doesn’t need mentioning.) Seth is shaking his head—wondering how Jerry will ever get out of this one—and Jackie actually looks ready to hurt him. She is definitely rethinking the whole cruelty to animals thing.

  “What’s the difference between them being prostitutes or being married?” Jerry tries to explain himself. “It’s the same lifestyle for them in those countries.”

  He’s completely serious. This is a Bible study! And we’re entering an argument about why prostitution is not legal, nor should it be. “Um, diseases for one thing,” I say. “The Bible also destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah for lack of morality, and sex outside the marriage bed is detestable to God, according to Hebrews 13.”

  Jerry looks down at his Bible. “There’s prostitutes all through the Bible.”

  Now I know my church is an outreach church. We have many people who come who don’t know Jesus as their Savior, and that’s a good sign that they feel comfortable. After all, I invited the klepto in jail, didn’t I? The issues arise when someone like Jerry is using church as a social pick-up club. He’s obviously failed at all the singles bars (can’t imagine why!) and now graces us with his wisdom.

  Normally, I would have all this love in my heart for someone so lost, but tonight I’m just ticked. You don’t have to be Christian to disagree with prostitution. I mean a basic knowledge of right and wrong should do it. But to justify it by using the Bible? Oh, heaven help me, I’m going to throttle him.

  Kay looks straight at Jerry. “If someone told you eunuchs were throughout the Bible, and that you should be happy in that lifestyle, would you believe it?”

  Jerry scratches his head. “That’s mixing apples and oranges.”

  While all of us panic, struggling to set Jerry on a path where he won’t be pummeled by the women in our group, Seth is quietly flipping through his Bible and suddenly speaks up. It’s almost a whisper, so it grasps our attention.

  “Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral!’ Hebrews 13:4. Does that sound like an approval for prostitution?”

  This aura of peace descends upon the room. Why is it Christians always try to argue instead of letting the Holy Spirit do His work? We’re all silent for a while.

  Jerry is nodding his head. “I see.” And I think he just might.

  Kay looks at her watch. “Let’s get to prayer. Amy, it’s your turn to lead.”

  Amy is about to start when a knock at the door sounds and in walks Dr. Kevin Novak. I see Seth’s jaw flinch, but he moves over and allows Kevin a seat. Kevin smiles at me and winks from across the room. There they are: Kevin and Seth. Sitting beside each other, I see their enormous differences. Kevin is comfortable in his own skin, but uncomfortable in this setting. He poses to try and cover it up, stretching out on the couch like he owns it, while Seth’s cheek muscle is still twitching.

  I wish I could just tell Seth if I had my choice . . . Well, there is no choice. There’s Kevin in all his gorgeous, non-Christian splendor and there’s Seth, the man who knows my heart but all he can offer is his condo when he goes away.

  After a few short and equally shallow prayer requests and group prayer, we move on to the snack portion of the evening. The box of cardboard cat cookies are now in a cut crystal bowl, but something about them makes you want to pour milk in a bowl next to them and call Fluffy from next door. No one touches the cookies.

  Kay has arranged a plate of sliced fruit with strawberries, fresh pineapple, and kiwi. In February! Next to that is a platter of warmed brie with crackers. I have to admit, I’m in awe. If this were at my place, I’d have arranged a few Vitamin C capsules next to some limp pickles and hoped no one noticed that I wasn’t prepared. Kay is never unprepared, and I have to admit, I can’t believe a single guy doesn’t covet this skill in a potential wife. Heck, I covet it.

  Seth is staying far from me, as if I have one of the diseases I spoke of earlier during Bible study. His prayer request was about his move.

  “Hey, Ashley.” Kevin nudges my shoulder with his own.

  “Hi, Kevin. It’s good to see you at Bible study.”

  “It makes a lot of sense. This Book.” He holds up his Bible, with his name engraved in the black leather cover. Did Arin buy it for him during her missionary dating stint?

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense on some days,” I say, but I’m watching Seth out of the corner of my eye. He’s not eating, he’s not talking. He’s just standing there, like a high school wallflower waiting for the right moment to cut in.

  “I haven’t heard from you since the day I bailed you out.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been busy,” I hedge.

  “Me too. This is my weekend off. Are you free?” Kevin asks.

  “My brother is getting married on Valentine’s Day, remember? I’m going to Vegas.”

  “Oh, right. That should be fun. Do you gamble?”

  I do, unfortunately, and it cost me dearly. “No, no I don’t gamble. Or drink, or do much of anything I can do in Vegas. I don’t even golf.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  Definitely time for a change of subject. “Tell me how you’re doing with that Book. What are you reading?”

  “Matthew.”

  My heart is pounding. Kevin is standing here, willing to discuss theology and his readings of the Scripture—quite possibly his salvation—and where is my shallow head?

  Watching Seth Greenwood walk out the door without even saying good-bye.

  32

  It’s Thursday morning, and when I come into Selectech’s glass entry, security is standing at the door in droves—obviously waiting for the escort. A sure sign. Someone’s getting the axe today. I don’t think it’s me because they looked me in the eye when I came in the entrance, but my phone rings the second I get into my office—startling me to no end.

  “Ashley Stockingdale,” I say with as much peace as I can muster.

  “Ashley, this is Hans Frauer,” the CEO of the company says. My heart is pounding. Where is Purvi?

  “Yes, Mr. Frauer.”

  “I’d like to see you in my office right away,” he says in his staunch German accent.

  “Coming, sir.” Sheesh, not even time to pack up my belongings in a box.

  Dianna, queen of office gossip, looks at me and forces a smile. “It will be all right.” But there’s something wrong. She’s lost half her Tammy Faye mascara. She’s been crying!

  “Where’s Purvi?” I ask in alarm.

  Dianna shrugs. Now, Dianna knows everything, so her pleading ignorance frustrates me to no end. My hands are trembling, but I’m mumbling prayers and mentally calculating how much I have i
n savings. How much I can live on until another job comes along. No easy feat in this economy, and it will definitely hurt the early retirement plan. But hey, it will help with the whole worka-holic thing.

  I smooth my jacket before entering Hans’s office. The jacket is a cargo-style DKNY in olive and part of the settlement from my renters’ insurance. As is always the case in stressful situations, I take comfort in my clothes.

  When I enter Hans’s office, there are men in suits in the chairs. Men don’t generally wear jackets here in Silicon Valley. I guess when they’re firing people, it is a prerequisite. Hmmm. Maybe they take comfort in their clothes as well.

  I nod. “Good morning, Mr. Frauer.”

  “Good morning, Ashley.”

  I take a moment to send a composed nod and smile to the VPs of engineering and human resources and the general manager. Yep, definitely getting fired.

  “Good morning, gentlemen . . . Annette.” Okay, okay, let’s just get this over with. I steel myself for the inevitable.

  “Ashley, as you know, we’ve had an abundance of patent work this year. As well as our share of patent legal work . . . ”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “This was also the first year we decided to sue Evil Empire.”

  Get to the point.

  “Ms. Sharma has done an excellent job leading our company into this new arena, but we feel her limitations have been reached. That it’s time to do something new with our direction and focus.”

  Purvi has done an excellent job? She’s given her lifeblood to this company! “I don’t understand. Where is Purvi, Hans?” I say, using his first name on purpose.

  “The board has come to the conclusion that Purvi is not ready to go head-to-head with the Evil Empire.”

  I pace his office. “I heartily disagree.” Did I say that?

  “The board looks at results, Ashley. Your results here have given this company key patents in our technology field, as well as a steady stream of royalties because you paid attention to the competition.”

  “I appreciate that you’ve noticed my work, but, Mr. Frauer, Purvi has directed all of it.”

  “We should tell you that we’ve let Purvi go,” Mr. LaBou says.

  I fall into a chair that’s been waiting for me all along. They actually did it? They fired Purvi? She gave her soul to this company. “I don’t know what to say.” Other than you’re all tools of the devil!

  “We’d like you to take Purvi’s place as interim general counsel,” Hans says. “We’ve watched you now for nearly a year. We’ve seen our stock jump three points at the very least, due to your laying the groundwork in patents.”

  General Counsel. This is what I’ve worked for. At the same time, how can I deny what they did to Purvi? They sucked her dry and left her empty shell at the curb. How could I ever define success this way and live with myself? I mutter a silent prayer and receive the confirmation I’m looking for.

  “No, thank you,” I say.

  “I don’t think you understand. This is your opportunity. Your only opportunity. There is not another patent job in the house.”

  I stand up. “I won’t need another one, but I appreciate the offer. My answer is no.”

  “Let me reiterate, there’s not another job here for you, Miss Stockingdale. It’s general counsel or nothing.”

  “I understand that, Mr. Frauer, but I’m afraid I’m not interested in the job. I don’t have that kind of time to work. I’ll hand in my resignation by the end of the day.”

  Hans shakes his head. “You’re privy to far too much information for that. Consider this your termination if you’re not interested in the position.”

  Better yet! Unemployment and a severance package. I see the hard line on his face, but at the same time I know he’s in more trouble than I am. He’s got two key patent lawsuits pending, six patents in the hopper, and not one patent attorney. Pride is a Beast.

  Hans lifts a finger and soon security is surrounding me, escorting me from the building with a quick trip to my office for the obligatory box, which they check every time I add something to it. The irony that you can fit your entire career into a single cardboard box is not lost on me.

  “Rough day,” one of the security guard says.

  “It’s easier than you’d think.”

  “Everyone loves you here, Miss Stockingdale. You’ll do fine.”

  “Success has more than one definition,” I say. I didn’t get all that legal expertise and negotiating experience for nothing. I’ll have a fine severance at the end of this.

  Once outside, Dianna comes running out of the office doors. “You turned it down?” Man, she’s fast. Gossip is drawn to her like a wave to the shore.

  “Did Purvi come in this morning, Dianna?”

  She nods. “About seven. They fired her then.” Dianna has streams of tears leaving little rivers in her makeup. “Told me to not say a word or I’d get the axe, too.”

  “How did she take it?”

  “You know, Purvi. She was fine.” Dianna is still tearing up. “She was the best boss I ever had. Hans treated her like dirt and she shielded us all from it.” Dianna practically spits. “Pig!”

  I take her hand. “She will be fine. Go back in and don’t get into trouble on my account.”

  “Why won’t you take the job, Ashley? You’d be a great general counsel, and Purvi would want you to have the job.”

  My head is nodding up and down. “Because when they offered it to me, I knew it was wrong. God has other plans for me. I don’t know what they are, but He hasn’t let me down yet.” I turn to walk away when Dianna speaks again.

  “This’ll make you feel better. They had me book you on the flight to Taiwan tomorrow morning.”

  I just start to laugh. “Someone else will be eating my under-cooked seafood, then. And I hope he has a German accent.” We hug good-bye. “If you need anything, or if you have any questions, just call me.”

  “Maybe marrying the rich doctor isn’t such a bad idea.”

  “Maybe. But I don’t need a man to be happy,” I say. “Neither do you.” I wave and head to my car with my little cardboard box—a box that represents four years of my life.

  Three days pass, and I’m surprisingly over my job. I’ve had a few leads already, and one of them is even in Arizona, and though my heart longs to follow up on it, I nix the idea as a pathetic attempt to escape rather than create my new life. The wedding is almost here and, with it, the depressing concept of Valentine’s Day. Who invented this sadistic holiday? Normally, I just forget about it, but with Kay’s creepy chachki reminders all over the house, I encounter vivid red tauntings everywhere. I expect them to beat like Poe’s “Telltale Heart,” so I’m glad for the escape to Vegas.

  I’m without a date, naturally. Even when offering a free trip to Vegas, I can’t think of anyone to bring! When you can’t even buy a date, that’s not subtle loserdom—that’s prime real estate, the Boardwalk of Loserville.

  I asked Kay, but she feels that Vegas is not where God would lead her. I heartily agree, but I have no choice in the matter. My brother is getting married and that miracle would drag me to the bowels of the earth if necessary.

  I thought about asking Dr. Kevin as a “friend,” but Vegas somehow implies that sex is included in the ticket, so no. And I’m not convinced at all that his newfound Seeker Status is anything but a ploy to bring me back around.

  Seth wouldn’t assume that sex is part of a trip to Vegas, but he’s not speaking to me. Besides, why dredge up emotions when it’s obviously over? He’s leaving this week and, chances are, he’s avoiding me until he leaves. I long for his friendship again, but I know that needs to be ended as well. Both for his well-being and my own.

  I see my face looks like a prune, I’m so cried out from obsessing about what I should have done. What I should have said. Not about Selectech. About Seth. I’m sick of gulping into my pillow at night, stifling my tears so I don’t wake Kay, not to mention manufacturing mucus in Sam’s Club qua
ntity. Having a crush on Seth was fun; getting over him is not.

  I stare in my bathroom mirror with an utter lack of emotion. I never thought I was the type who would define herself by a relationship, and I don’t, but Seth was a constant ray of hope in my life. The Omnipresent Potential. A reason to buy new clothes. I realize it wasn’t him, of course. It was the hope I was addicted to. I know that God is with me, and I wouldn’t want to marry without His consent, but I want a reason to buy new shoes!

  My hair is finally long enough for a clip and I pin it back. Powdering Jane Iredale foundation onto my skin, I brush some blush on my cheeks and finish with my Stila lip polish. That’s as good as it gets. I blow a kiss to the mirror.

  I’m on the 2 p.m. flight after church to Vegas, but I’m singing a solo in service today. I spent a long time in prayer this morning, praying for my brother and Mei Ling and their life together. I hope they’ll be very happy and that I can be happy for them. I think I’m past petty jealousy, but you never know. It seems so unfair that God should give Dave a life partner and me a big lesson on living single.

  Brea is coming to the wedding, so I won’t be alone, but she’s bringing John. So that’s no fun. They’ll dance, gazing into each other’s eyes to old Journey tunes, while I fend off unemployed cousins with goin’ nowhere stories—and fight my aunts who try and fluff my hair to full ’80s capacity. Oh yeah, can’t wait for this.

  All my good intentions to befriend my new sister-in-law have gone the way of the Intel 486. Lost amid the “have tos” of job-hunting and singing in the church band. Life with Kay has become an eclectic experience. It’s different having a roommate. She’s not like a “normal” roommate, meaning someone you can ask, “Does my butt look fat in this?” or “Can you see my bra strap from the back?” But she’s a fabulous cook and is teaching me volumes about productivity and organization.

  Did you know you can actually get out the door earlier if you don’t try on six outfits in the morning? Granted, you’ll feel uncomfortable all day because you weren’t in the mood for that certain blouse, but you’re there on time. Of course, now I don’t have a there to be, but that’s another whine. I am no longer a whiner. Come what may. I’m Annie, singing “Tomorrow”! I’m Maria on Sound of Music! Perhaps that’s a bit too optimistic.