by Doxer, Debra
When Laura began dating Jonathan and got engaged to him a year later, I was surprised at how it made me feel. I figured Laura would always have the same dismal relationship luck we’d both had up until that point. I even pictured us growing old together, two spinster sisters making our way through life together. Besides, as the older sister, I’ve always done everything first, but not this time. Her ability to fall into a healthy, loving relationship both impresses and astounds me, as though there is some secret to it that everyone but me has discovered. I’m afraid I haven’t a hope of gaining membership into this club.
Laura opens the door dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, but with her lawyerly makeup, hair, and jewelry all still neatly in place. I’m dressed much the same. I follow her through the living room and into the small dining room which holds a round wooden table for four. One character trait that I possess and she does not is compulsive neatness. Laura isn’t much bothered by dust and clutter. She moves some piles of paper from the table to the floor and then sits down.
Laura and Jonathan have a two bedroom apartment in the town next to mine. Jonathan commutes to his law firm in Boston every day, and Laura drives south to her law office. Their apartment is situated exactly in the middle of both their workplaces. They plan to begin house hunting after the wedding.
“I sent Jonathan out for pizza. Hope that’s okay,” Laura tells me. She looks tired. I now feel badly for intruding, and I say as much.
She smiles wistfully. “Don’t be silly. I’m glad you came. We never get to talk anymore.”
“Are you and Mom okay?”
Laura nods. “We’re fine. I’m tabling my opinions and just agreeing with hers. It’s giving me insomnia and an ulcer, but Mom and I are great friends now.”
I chuckle at her. “It’s a Pyrrhic victory then.”
“Yeah. I guess so.” Laura reaches up and pulls a clip out of her hair. Her dark locks tumble down, and the stretched curls rest stiffly on her shoulders. “But tell me what’s going on with you. Any more news on the buyout?”
The family grapevine has gotten the news to Laura. I called my mother the day we got the word. In her usual fashion, her reaction was extreme. Worrying about my being laid off, she advised me to cut back on all my expenses and to begin looking for another job. In fact, she has already begun researching the want ads and leaving me messages about them. Through her friends, she has compiled a list of contacts that I am now supposed to call. I completely understand Laura’s ulcer.
“No more news there. But there is news on other fronts,” I reply.
“What news is that?”
I shake my head. “I’d rather wait for Jonathan. That way I don’t have to repeat it when he gets here, and I can get a guy’s perspective on things.”
“So, it’s dating news?”
“Yes and no.” Reasonable and considerate with a dry sense of humor, Jonathan is a good sounding board when it comes to guys and the strange ways in which they behave.
“Well, he should be back any minute. How about a drink?”
I follow Laura into the kitchen, watching as she withdraws three wine glasses from the cupboard and fills them from a bottle that already stands open on the counter. We chat more about the wedding and the trip to the florist, which was uneventful due to Laura’s new attitude. While standing there, I notice that the sink still holds their breakfast dishes.
Soon Jonathan arrives home, his black leather briefcase in one hand and two pizza boxes balanced atop the other in the other. He kisses Laura hello as she takes the boxes from him.
“Hey,” he says brightly when he spots me, approaching to plant a kiss on my cheek. Jonathan fills up a room. His energy seems to vibrate off him in waves. He isn’t tall, just an inch or so taller than Laura, but he’s built like a linebacker--as my dad once commented. And his voice seems to project itself boldly from the depths of his barrel chest. Good for the courtroom, I suppose.
Jonathan goes to change his clothes while Laura and I bring plates and napkins to the table. Once Jonathan reappears and we are all seated, we apply ourselves to the pizza. The warm cheese melts over the edges of each slice as it’s transferred from box to plate. The pungent tomato aroma fills the apartment. I gulp my red wine to relieve the burn on the roof of my mouth that I’ve inflicted with the first impatient bite. Once we have soothed our initial hunger, Laura prompts me to start talking.
I decide to present the story of my date with Jason as my first topic. It’s the lesser issue at the moment. I give an honest accounting, trying not to prejudice them in order to get unbiased reactions. Laura purses her lips when I tell them he was half an hour late. Jonathan just glances at me and then reaches for another slice of pizza. They smile and nod in the appropriate places as I recount the rest of the date. Laura appears especially pleased by what she’s heard, until I reach the end.
“He didn’t walk you back to your car?” Laura asks, looking confused. I purposely didn’t put it quite that way. I simply explained that we said goodnight and he walked to the T.
I shake my head in response.
“Was your car parked right there?”
I shake my head again. “It was one street over and down a couple of blocks.”
“Did he know that?”
“Yup.”
Her forehead wrinkles. “You’re saying that at the end of the date he left you alone to walk back to your car by yourself?”
I nod.
“What a jerk,” she exclaims.
We both turn to Jonathan for his reaction. He slowly sips his wine as his eyes travel between us. “Well, what do you think?” Laura prompts.
He puts down his glass, hesitates for a beat and then says, “When a guy is interested, he walks you back to your car.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “You don’t think he was interested?”
He shakes his head. “Not seriously. Sorry Andy.”
“But he seemed interested, right?” Laura states, looking to me for confirmation but continuing before getting it. “He told her he had a nice time. He kissed her goodnight.”
“He was interested in something, I’m sure.” Jonathan waggles his eyebrows, punctuating his point. “But nothing serious.”
Laura makes a “humph” sound as she crosses her arms, appearing appalled on my behalf.
Unfortunately, I think Jonathan makes sense. “Do you think I’ll hear from him again?”
He ponders that for a moment. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. But if you do go out with him again, you should keep your expectations realistic. Just have fun. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“He could be wrong,” Laura suggests, gesturing to Jonathan, trying to make me feel better.
“I don’t know.” I sigh while leaning back in the chair, polishing off my wine. My outrage from last night has diminished, and now I’m more curious than anything else. “Not everyone is looking to be in a relationship. It doesn’t make them a bad person. But even if he wasn’t interested in me, I still think he should have been concerned for my safety. Just because he doesn’t want a relationship with me doesn’t mean he should care less whether or not I make it back to my car in one piece.”
“That’s right,” Laura swiftly agrees.
“Either way, I probably wouldn’t let a woman walk to her car alone late at night in the city,” Jonathan admits.
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Laura agrees, reaching over to pat his arm. “Well Andy, I’m sorry, but I think that’s a deal-breaker.”
I smile ruefully. “I probably won’t hear from him again anyway. Even if I did, you’re right. It’s a deal-breaker. I can’t get past it. Not even for some fun.”
“There’s nothing wrong with just having fun,” Jonathan repeats.
Laura elbows him as she begins to the clear the table. “Andy and I are good girls. We don’t just have fun.”
“Very true. You’ve got the ring to prove it,” he says, grabbing at her. She playfully dodges him. I feign exasperation, but I can
’t help chuckling at them.
“I’ve got more to tell you when you’re ready,” I add, carrying my dishes to the sink, which appears to have no room for additional dishes.
“There’s more?” Jonathan asks. “What else did this poor sucker do to offend you?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Different topic. Far more interesting.”
“We’ve got ice cream,” Laura offers, peering into the freezer.
“No thanks. I’m stuffed.” Jonathan rubs his flat stomach.
I never turn down ice cream. “I’ll have some.”
“Me, too,” she agrees grabbing the carton.
“Well, if you’re both having ice cream, I guess I’ve got some room left.” He pretends to hedge, eyeing the carton of double chocolate chip.
We settle onto the couch in the living room with our bowls of ice cream, and I start in on my second story.
Laura’s reactions are as I expected. “Oh my god,” she intones several times.
Jonathan, however, is a bit clueless. “Who is this Bryn person?” he asks. “Wait, is Bryn engaged to Mike?” “You mean Katie got divorced? When did that happen?” By the time I get Jonathan up to speed, I ‘m exhausted.
“How are you going to tell her?” Laura wonders.
“I don’t know. I can’t even imagine it. But telling her is the right thing. Right?”
Laura nods.
“She won’t thank you, though,” Jonathan adds.
“Mom told me to be prepared for her to get angry at me.”
“Who knows how she’ll react,” Laura says.
“Katie is pretty cute, from what I remember.” Jonathan furrows his brow as though trying to call up her image.
“She’s gorgeous,” Laura replies. “I have to say, compared to Katie, Bryn isn’t much in the looks department.”
“Bryn isn’t unattractive,” I argue, wondering why I ‘m defending her.
“Why did Katie get divorced?” Jonathan asks.
“Her husband left her for someone else.”
“Oh boy,” he replies.
“Maybe she purposely finds men who can’t be faithful. Maybe she’s got some hang ups,” Laura suggests.
“Maybe she’s easy prey, so trusting and optimistic all the time. She’s easily taken advantage of,” I say.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Laura offers.
“Thanks. But Katie doesn’t know you that well. I doubt she’ll appreciate an audience. I appreciate the offer though.”
“Well girls, I’m beat.” The couch cushions lift as Jonathan stands. “You’ve got a full plate these days, Andy. If you need any more advice, my door is always open.”
“Thank you sensei,” I respond solemnly.
“Brat,” he teases, chucking me under the chin and bidding us good night. He then retreats into the bedroom.
I stand, gather our empty ice cream bowls, and carry them to the sink which overflows with dirty dishes. After checking that the dishwasher still has room, I start rinsing.
“What are you doing?” Laura comes up beside me, her weary eyes on the dish pile.
“It will take ten minutes, tops.”
She smiles gratefully, picking up a dishcloth to help dry the washed overflow once the dishwasher is full.
“I’m really sorry about your date,” she says later, standing by the door to see me out. “You’ll meet someone great soon. I know it.”
I smile at her, wondering what it must feel like to know you never have to date again, to know that you have found your soul mate, and you are about to commit yourself to him for life.
Once I’m back in the car, I realize that my cell phone is emitting a quiet beep, indicating that I have a message. I dial into my voicemail and hear Ryan Miller’s voice. He apologizes for not calling me sooner in the week, and then he asks if I want to drive down to the beach with him on Saturday. But my Saturday has already been booked for bathing suits and bad news. I’ll have to call him back and try to reschedule. I wouldn’t mind a nice relaxing day on the beach. Because my expectations for dates are so low now, I don’t even panic at the thought of him seeing me in a bathing suit. I hope Sunday will work for him. This is the second Saturday invitation from him I’ll be turning down. His call also reminds me that I’ve been so distracted I haven’t scheduled the repair work on my car yet. I make a mental note to do that next week.
When I park and get out of the car, my heart sinks as I hear Tiger mewling from inside the house. I unlock the door and have barely pushed it open when he squeezes his head out to peer up at me. “Hey buddy,” I coo, trying to get inside without letting him out. Once I’ve achieved that, he stretches himself up, resting his paws on my knees. Then he launches himself upward, digging into my clothes as he tries to claw his way up my body. Dropping my purse, I grab at him, dislodging his claws from my shirt and turning him in my arms. “What are you doing?” I ask, looking down at him in my arms. He blinks at me and begins purring.
I put Tiger down and go about refreshing his water bowl and refilling his food dish. He follows me closely, wanting to look at and smell everything I’m touching. As I walk around closing the window shades for the evening with Tiger trailing behind me, evidence of his long solitary day meets me throughout the condo. Pillows from the couch are scattered on the floor. I replace them. Some notepaper I had sitting by the phone is now shredded and scattered about nearby. I pick up the pieces and throw them away. At least he found ways to occupy himself.
I spend some time playing with Tiger, eschewing my guilt for having left him alone so much. Hiding behind furniture, I wait to be leapt upon. Then I throw the small rubber ball up and down the stairs watching as he races after it. I’m far more tired than he is by the end of our playtime. But thankfully, we both fall into bed and drift right off to sleep.
ten
“Early this morning,” Joan comments. I smile at her and head to my cubicle. It’s Friday, and for a change I’m not glad about it. Tomorrow is the day I’m dreading. Tomorrow I will tell Katie that her fiancé is not exactly who she thinks he is.
I spend the morning hoping Katie will cancel. When I run into Karthik in the hallway later in the afternoon, I take the opportunity to ask him how the meeting with Tom went. I have heard from Rob that it was supposed to have occurred yesterday.
“It got cancelled,” he tells me. “All future product planning is on hold.”
“What?” I ask. This is news to me.
He nods in confirmation. “Everything already scheduled for this quarter and next is still on track, but beyond that.” He shrugs.
“So, this means that you get to keep working on only the features you indicated and not that crazy list Rob had.”
“Yeah, I guess it does.”
His lack of triumph worries me. “What do you think of the buyout?” I ask, stopping him before he can continue down the hallway.
He thinks for a moment before responding, which I appreciate. I’m half expecting a non-committal canned answer. “I think the fact that they want to put long range plans on hold means that they want to change or stop those plans. That may be good or bad or neutral for us.”
“But you suspect it’s bad?”
“I think it will probably be bad for some groups here. But there’s no way to know which ones at this point.”
I chew my lip, agreeing with his logic.
“Don’t worry Andrea,” he reassures me. “No need worrying when we don’t know if there’s anything to worry about. Besides, you’re very good at your job. You’ll be fine whether you stay here or decide to bestow your talents upon another company.”
“Thanks,” I say, worried now anyway. “You, too.”
I go searching for Rob. I have been avoiding him because I heard there had been quite a cat fight on the latest episode of The Bachelor, and the last thing I want to discuss with Rob is cat fights. But I have been hiding in vain, it seems. His darkened office and closed door indicate that he isn’t in today. I will have to table my bloss
oming anxiety until Monday.
In the meantime, I go back to my desk, locate the wrinkled paper in my bag with Ryan’s number on it, and return his call.
“Hey Andrea,” he answers, sounding a bit distracted.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No, just hold on a second, okay?”
“Okay.”
I wait, adjusting the volume up on my streaming music. “We Come Running” by Youngblood Hawk is playing.
“Sorry about that,” Ryan says into my ear, startling me. “You still there?”
“I’m here.”
“We’re in the middle of another mini-crisis.”
“I’m sorry. It’s no problem to call back at a better time,” I offer. I can hear voices in the background. It sounds like people arguing.
He laughs. “Actually, this is a good time. We just landed a second customer.”
“Hey! That’s great.”
“Yeah, but now we’re under the gun to deliver what they want. We really need to hire more people.”
“Maybe this will help you get your funding.”
“I hope so.”
Suddenly, there is static on the line and a muffled scraping noise. “Ryan?”
“Sorry, I’m just stepping out into the hallway where it’s quieter. Okay, that’s better. So, how are you?”
“I’m fine,” I mutter, restraining a sigh. It’s a loaded question at the moment.
“You sure?” he asks, picking up on my less than enthusiastic response.
For some reason, I want to tell him about my job and about Katie, but of course I don’t. I hardly know him. “I really am fine. I’ve just got a lot going on. But I’m calling to let you know that I got your message and your plan sounds great. Only, I’m wondering if we could do it on Sunday instead. I’m afraid I can’t make it on Saturday.”
“Oh,” he says. Then there’s silence.
“Or maybe we could do something next week if Sunday isn’t good?” I add quickly.