Hip to Be Square

by Hope Lyda

  Lysa says, “Rae wants to use that as the excuse, but you know as well as I do that it is because she is a lousy business manager. I’d be all for her bizarre system of accounting if it were advantageous to the residents, but it isn’t. This is my third center to work in, Mari, and it is suffering the most. It isn’t your fault.”

  “No. It’s not, dear. Don’t think for a minute that you are not supposed to go on with your life. I do wish there was something I could do right now to help this place, though. I would in a heartbeat. I’ve been racking my brain trying to think of a solution.” Poor Tess, just days before her surgery, and she is worrying about trying to save her home. Her expression changes with a new thought. “How is Beau? Or how are you and Beau, is the real question?”

  “They’re great,” Lysa says.

  I blush and I doubt. The struggle with shifting my status from single to dating still causes me some strife.

  “Give it the time you need, Mari. We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him…”

  “Who have been called according to his purpose.” I finish the Scripture from Romans and hope it is true.

  “I’d like to pray before I fade here. Mari, will you?”

  “Sure.” I look at Lysa, who has told me that her faith suffered greatly during her father’s illness and death. She nods for me to go for it.

  My prayer is simple…and a bit wandering. I pray for Tess and her surgery, for this place and its survival, even for Rae and the leadership here at Golden Horizons. I throw in a bit about God’s will for all of us…that we cling to it even when we face uncertainty. Beneath my prayer is another prayer, a silent, personal supplication…God, use me in this situation. Let me be a part of the life you have for me.

  “That was so nice, dear. I feel better already. Lysa, would you get my stole? I left it in the recreation room.”

  “Certainly,” she says, her voice a bit shaky.

  As soon as Lysa exits and Tess faces me, I see she is all business and heart. Her little hands reach for mine. She gives me a knowing nod and I feel what she is referring to. The charm bracelet with the single key is in my hand. The weight of it represents the weight I feel in my spirit. This isn’t just our usual routine, I sense. I ask her if I am right.

  “No, it isn’t. It’s time for you to have the gray Christian Dior, my dear.” She wags her finger at me, ready to counter my protests with her deeper wisdom.

  “Tess, this is a procedure they do several times every day at the hospital. Your doctors believe you are strong enough for this, or they would not choose to operate. Please don’t act like this is…”

  “Mari, if there is anything I have learned in this life, it is that my joy, my pain, my journey is never about or between me and another person or a situation. Doctors, surgery, or otherwise. My life is between me and God.” Tess reads my face, which is twitching and turning away.

  She continues. “Are you hearing that? It is a great blessing to finally understand this. Take it…along with these material items,” she motions to the key, “and may they unlock the life between you and God.”

  I look up startled. She is the only person to really understand my struggle lately. I clutch the key tightly and then embrace the sweetest gift of all, my friend, Tess.

  We hear Lysa’s shoes squeaking down the hallway. “Do you want me to take the dress now? Or can I wait till after the surgery?” I still do not believe this is goodbye. My friend is a sentimental gal, that is all.

  “You can wait. But just so you know…some keys open more than just one old bureau. You will read this when the time comes,” Tess presses a ribbon-tied note into my hand as Lysa enters wearing the stole.

  “Sorry to disturb you two, but Rae is on the loose. I think she is in the other wing, so we had best hightail it out of here. Come on, Blondie. Tess needs her rest for tomorrow.”

  Leaving Tess is not easy, but she assures me everything will turn out as it should. I exchange my WWOMD accessory for this single-key charm bracelet, and as I step out into the night, I am hopeful that I am also stepping into the life that is between me and God.

  Y Knot

  Chanel, you have a call holding on line cinq,” my coworker and newest friend Sophie calls out to me from the glass desk in the mirage wing.

  “Merci, Sophie!” To pass time, we pretend we speak French fluently. Together, we know twenty words and two phrases.

  Clad in her bathing suit, Sophie is ready to lead her synchronized swimming class. Well, almost.

  “Are you wearing your Timberlands into the pool? Very graceful flippers.”

  “You like? Earl Gray told me someone broke a glass over by the pool. I’m not risking these pieds. They are ensured, baby.” Sophie does a little tap dance.

  I press five on my headset. “Hello? Who are you and what business do you have with me?”

  “Mari? It’s Yvette. Your neighbor. Former neighbor, actually.”

  “I’m so sorry for my greeting. I thought it was someone here at work.” Yvette’s sentence sinks in. “You moved out?” I have been so caught up in my life that I haven’t even noticed strange neighbor moved out?

  “I did more than that. Zane and I eloped!” She squeals. The former no-personality girl squeals into my ear. I do a dance of pain.

  “Eloped?” Are you nuts? I want to shout out the limited number of months she has known Zane. Uh…one, two, three, four, five months. Who could possibly know they want to marry someone after…the same amount of time I have known Beau? Could I make such a rash decision?

  No.

  I adjust my judgment and turn it into happiness for the girl formerly known as basement dweller.

  “I know. It is crazy. Maybe I should have made a website of my own and taken bets. I would have won big, for sure. It is too soon…but I just knew. We just knew. And we owe it all to you, Mari. You hardly knew either one of us, yet you made this happen. We want to take you out to lunch today as a thank-you.”

  “Today?”

  “We leave for a month-long trek through Europe tomorrow. Please?”

  They are not only sure enough about their love to get hitched but secure enough to pitch a tent in the Alps together. I feel uptight. Reaching into my pocket, I find the email from Beau that I printed last night. Allowing my eyes to glance at the first line is enough. “Mari, how about we live together…in the same city?”

  Returning to the situation at hand, I get my bearings as quickly as possible. “I only have an hour…and Majestic is so far from any places to eat…” I’m making excuses rather than celebrating my friend’s big moment. Their relationship is between them and God…and surely it was God who tugged at my heart that day to set them up. “Wait!” I act as though I just stumbled across a great idea rather than tripped over my list of excuses. “Eat here. I can leave passes at the door for you. And…” I’m on a roll now, “dress in sweats or comfortable clothing.”

  “I thought that place was fancy.” Yvette seems to doubt whether she is Majestic material. This puts me in high gear to make her feel comfortable.

  “Fancy in a casual way. You will feel right at home. Besides, I will be your personal experience designer. Can you spend a couple hours here?”

  Yvette’s muffled voice talks to her significant other. “Yes. We’ll see you soon.”

  I hang up just as Lionel rounds the corner. His nice suit flows in slow motion and his smile appears undaunted by the stresses that plague this business mogul. “Mari, just the gal I wanted to see.”

  Gal? Golly gee, Lionel.

  “I have good news for you.” He reaches over and grabs a clipboard from the desk. “This is your schedule for next week. You are a month away from your six month approval, yet I feel confident you can handle this privilege.”

  “Privilege?”

  “Take a look at who is on your schedule. I wouldn’t usually hand over a top client to a beginning designer, but somehow I just knew this was the right thing to do.”

  I skim the
list of client names, hoping I will recognize the one he deems as important. My eyes catch on one that takes my breath away. Not…

  “You saw it…Wendy Skies. On your shift. She expects the full treatment and always requests extra bottled water and fresh, peeled kiwi after her massage. There are a few other important specifics about her preferences and a few allergies as well in her file. Become familiar with it before next week.” Lionel sees the frozen look on my face. “You do know Wendy Skies?”

  “Not personally, of course. But we know someone in common.”

  “Excellent. Then I was right to do this. Don’t let me down, Mari…Chanel. I know you won’t.”

  He walks away satisfied with my silence. Though Mari has visions of torture massages dancing in her head, Chanel won’t let Lionel down.

  Before I can forget, I schedule Yvette and Zane for a deluxe couple’s massage with Charles, the best masseur in town. Even if I don’t know how I feel about my love life after just five months, I can offer up a wedding gift to two people who are willing to ignore the what-ifs and embrace the why not to tie the knot.

  Moving Toward Something

  Are we there yet?” Caitlin moans as she clip-clops next to us along the Tucson Trot route. We hold our tongues rather than mention that she is the one who chose to try her lace-up clogs today of all days.

  Only Sadie let out a brief “What were you thinking!” under her breath, but the sound of wood dragging on pavement muffled the rhetorical question.

  “How are you doing, Rachel?” I ask Angelica’s new little sister. As in Big Brother, Big Sister program. We are all scared for this impressionable fourteen-year-old, who already seems in awe of Angelica’s life force. Yes, we want to yell “Run, Rachel, run as fast as you can,” but we are afraid she will think we just mean to the finish line. Just as I’m wondering if I have time to adopt Rachel should Angelica decide to break up with her, Caitlin says she will sister-share with me.

  “Being outside feels pretty good. I thought it would suck because I prefer to shop.” Rachel looks about her at the mountainous skyline and the surrounding flora with mild appreciation that, while it is not the grandeur of the mall, it does not “suck.”

  We all nod at the family resemblance.

  “We are getting close. I see some folks walking the finishing circle,” Sadie says optimistically. We are all dragging, though it is only five miles.

  “Next year, let’s run it,” I say for shock value. Caitlin pegs me with one of her heavy feet.

  “Hey, Pinocchio. If I have splinters, I’m lighting a match and tossing it in your general direction.”

  “Oh, my gosh. I don’t believe it. Look who is here!” Caitlin is excited about a celebrity sighting. A small golf cart is careening around the corner and edging just a short distance from the paved walkway and toward the end of the trail. I see only a glimpse of blond hair and a long stretch of tan legs. Whoever this is, she is cheating her way to the finish line.

  “It’s Wendy Skies.” Caitlin claps her hands. Even Angelica does not buy into this version of celebrity.

  “Oh, please. Big deal. She’ll be a hostess at LuLu’s within two years. The woman has no sense of fashion—”

  “Or kindness,” I add.

  “Or fairness, apparently,” Sadie commentates as we watch Wendy rush over to the trail in front of us just in time for a photo op in the finishers’ circle. It turns out this woman who is too good to visit her elderly father is just good enough to serve as this year’s breast cancer awareness event emcee.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Way to taint this fund-raiser,” I say, pouting.

  Sadie nudges me. At first I think it is her cue to be nicer, but then I see what she sees. Standing at the finish line are Carson and Beau. I cannot help but smile.

  Instead of looking at Wendy smiling for the cameras, wiping her brow, and stretching out, I focus on how good it feels to be walking toward something. Someone.

  Beau looks at me with pride, but there is something else in his eyes. And though I consider he could be overheating from this extremely warm October day, his red face causes my stomach to go funny. I kick up my pace.

  “Congratulations,” the two handsome men say in unison. They are holding pink roses for each of us, including Rachel.

  “Ahhh. That’s so sweet,” I say and give Beau a hug—an act I never thought would feel normal. But today it does. I look into his red-rimmed eyes. “Did you eat Thai food again?”

  He clears his throat. “No. I need to speak with you, Mari.” Suddenly he realizes a big change in my appearance. “Your hair. It’s…fun.”

  “I don’t do serious all that well, so just spit it out,” I say while my mind comes up with lots of possibilities for his behavior. He has to move to the East Coast. He is tired of the long-distance relationship. He found out we are brother and sister…

  “Tess passed away this morning. I decided to go check on her before I came here. The doctor said the surgery went really well, but her heart gave out.” He is crying because he adored Tess, and because he knows what this will mean to me. Beau watches my face for a response and grabs my hand in support.

  I don’t cry. Thoughts of Tess’ goodbye replay in my mind, and I hold a very unexpected peace within.

  “Mari, are you okay?” Sadie is standing beside me. By now they have all caught on to the news.

  “We did it, everybody! We walked, we ran, we strolled, we rolled for breast cancer! Let’s give ourselves a pat on the back. We can be proud of this fine effort. Today we are not just people of the Tucson community, we are friends…no! We are family. And that’s what makes all the difference,” Wendy Skies’ voice spews from speakers resting on a bench right beside us.

  Now I cry.

  And I don’t stop until I get home.

  The Fork in the Road

  Your order is leaking. Not my fault.” Our Chinese take-out guy shoves several plastic bags at Beau and exits as soon as he gets his money and tip. Leaking indeed…kung pow sauce drips a trail from the door to the kitchen.

  “I’ll clean that after we eat. Deal?” Beau asks as he pours our numbered dinner choices onto paper plates.

  “Deal.” I’m ravenous after hours of crying and blowing my nose. I keep looking at the key on my bracelet. Now it and what it opens are all I will have to remember my friend by.

  In silence we chow on Chow Fun and speak not of the loss of Tess. This silence also surrounds the email I still keep in my pocket. The email that asks me if I want this relationship to be real, serious, and possibly long-term.

  I don’t know if the email is disconcerting because I have had enough change to last me a while or because the long-distance relationship has protected me from having to think about what the next step might be. I’m not someone who grew up with grand visions of the white fluffy dress and the white picket fence. Fantasies about lifestyle and career crowded out the whole “I do” plotline.

  Apparently Beau has been thinking about this. A lot.

  “So, Mari…that last email I sent you. Was it too much?” He is looking right at me because he is the kind of guy who can look you in the eye when talking about real things. Even a shared zip code.

  I am tempted to use the news of Tess’ death as an excuse to avoid this conversation, but I know our in-person sessions are few and far between. It matters, I tell myself. Speak. “No. Not too much. Just…so soon. I don’t know.” My favorite line in life is “I don’t know,” as if this becomes a universal pass to avoid any confrontation. I can see it doesn’t exactly meet Beau’s need for information.

  “Do you not know about us? Or is it about moving? Because I gave that a lot of thought. You have just found the ideal job…so you should stay. I should be the one to move. If anyone moves.” His nervousness is palpable. My heart wants to send him a lifeline.

  “It isn’t the move. It’s…” What is it? “It’s the expectation that comes with such a move.” Don’t guys feel this kind of relational pressure? “I thought as
king you your opinion about my new car choice was a huge step of commitment. What if you move back here and it doesn’t work out? Then what?”

  “That ‘what if’ doesn’t matter. The ‘what if’ that matters is ‘what if we don’t give this a real shot?’” He speaks seriously and unintentionally waves a wonton at my face until he realizes he is waving a wonton at my face. “I’m sorry. I’ve never been…I’ve never felt this way about someone before.”

  “Neither have I,” I offer. I don’t know much about most things, but I do know I have to admit to the feelings that I have. I am almost thirty; if I cannot learn from past mistakes by now, I never will.

  “We’re back to the age-old question: Where do we go from here?”

  I’m silent. My mind is scanning all the recent events of my life: meeting Beau, my posh position at Majestic Vista, my hair color alteration, my name change, the loss of Tess, having real conversations with a significant other. Talk about systems overload.

  “If I ended up here…in Tucson…you would be okay with it?” He rephrases the question.

  Wouldn’t it be nice to spend more time with him? To have him ask me over for a game night with friends? We could go for walks in the morning or meet up for coffee or lunch or dinner. This is a life I could envision…right?

  I sound confused as I pour out my thoughts. “I admit that the long-distance relationship has been convenient, but if you had been living here when we met, I still would have been excited about getting to know you better.”

  Noodles hang from Beau’s mouth as he considers this somewhat compliment. “So this is a yes to us living in the same town?”

  “I’m still worried about expectations. What if—”

  “You bought a wonderful new car. That is a commitment. You didn’t seem to dwell on what-ifs over that. No more using the what-if defense. Mari…you are what…almost thirty?” Beau seems energized by this and takes a bite of hot mustard.