Engaging Men (17 page)

I immediately bristled. I’d always hated the idea of giving girls dolls, maybe because I had had so many foisted on me in my childhood years, being the only girl in my family.

“I’m thinking maybe…not,” I said diplomatically to the woman, who stood blinking at me as if she held the answer to my prayers in her tiny, tiny hands. I didn’t want to be responsible for molding this baby into the image of her mother. Because isn’t that what dolls were supposed to do? I was no feminazi or anything, but I knew that much.

“All kids love blocks,” Pippi said, leading me over to a stack

of brightly colored blocks, each painted with a letter of the alphabet, “and these have a learning component.”

I suddenly remembered how Kirk had bragged to me about how brilliant his niece was. Surely she knew her ABCs, right? Wasn’t that like the first thing you taught a kid? I really had no idea… “Oh, this baby’s smart,” I said, finally, figuring it would be best to err on the side of caution. I didn’t want to insult the Stevenses by underestimating their progeny. “She knows her alphabet by now, I’m sure.”

“Really?” She beamed at me. I have to say, I even beamed back.

“How about shapes? Does she know her shapes?” She picked up a puzzle with cutouts of circles and squares.

Who didn’t know shapes? Wasn’t that something everyone was born with? “Of course,” I replied on the defensive, as if Pippi had somehow insulted my niece’s intelligence.

“She sounds like a remarkable child,” Pippi said, smiling up at me.

I smiled back. I was sure Kimberly was brilliant,just like Kirk. I think just about everyone in his family was brilliant. According to Kirk, Kate had graduated from Brown magna cum laude. Kayla was a bit of the black sheep, dropping out of the University of Chicago a few credits shy of a B.A. in fine arts. But she had dropped out in the best way, having landed a key spot in a group show at the Smithsonian for a seminude photo Kirk claimed his parents still wouldn’t acknowledge was her. I couldn’t wait to meet Kayla.

“I think we might want to go a little more advanced with this kid.”

“Well, we do have this children’s computer. I would usually say it was more appropriate for an older child, but even so, it’s the kind of development item that could grow with a child…”

Now this was cool, I thought, eyeing the shiny plastic monitor and mini-keyboard. It was just perfect for Kirk’s niece, I thought, picturing Uncle Kirk introducing little Kimberly to the wonders of Windows. Then I saw the price—$159.99? Were they kidding? The wonders of Windows could wait until those mutual funds matured a bit…

“Do you have anything a little less expensive?”

The woman looked at me then, and I could swear there was a disgust in her eyes. As if I were the grinch about to steal Microsoft.

My eye fell upon a tiny farmhouse set up on a nearby table, complete with cows, chickens and little farm implements. “This is cute,” I said.

Pippi popped over. “Yes, it’s one of our most popular products.” She smiled as I picked up a tiny hoe to examine. “Of course, it’s generally advised for children over three because of the choking hazard.”

“Choking?”

“Yes, those little ones love to put everything in their mouths.”

I studied the tiny hoe, imagined it in the tiny hand of a tiny baby being put in an even tinier mouth. God, this kid business was for the birds, I thought, imagining spending hours trailing behind some little tot who seemed determined to off herself the first time Mom wasn’t looking. “Yeah, well, we wouldn’t want any family tragedies,” I replied with a nervous chuckle. Pippi laughed, too, though hers was a bit strained. I think I was starting to get on her nerves.

Well, too bad. This was not just any baby we were talking about. This was Kirk’s godchild. I had to find something special. Something that said I had taken great thought and care. Something that said I was the Girlfriend…and I was here to stay.

But as Pippi recommended puzzles (puzzles made me think of old people, not babies,) stuffed animals (borrrring), music boxes (did anyone like those stupid things?), porcelain tea sets (wasn’t this a broken-glass hazard?), I realized there was nothing in this whole store in the under-twenty-five-dollar category that would make Kirk’s family realize that I was not only the Girlfriend, but the prudent and perfectly suitable mother of Kirk’s future progeny.

“Could you excuse me for a moment?” I said finally, realizing there was one prudent person I could count on to help me make this all-important decision.

My own mother.

Given the opportunity, Pippi practically fled my now angst-

ridden presence while I stepped deep into the heart of the stuffed-animal section and pulled out my cell phone.

“Ma, it’s me,” I said, once she picked up.

“Angela? I can hardly hear you.You’re not on that cell phone, are you?”

My mother claimed she could never hear me on my cell phone—I think this was mostly to discourage my using it. “Remember Uncle Gino!” she would warn at every opportunity. Uncle Gino had died of brain cancer two years ago, and my mother attributed his untimely demise to the way he had embraced the cell phone movement so wholeheartedly he’d given up his home line in favor of complete mobile usage. Of course, she never thought about the fact that he’d worked in asbestos removal for most of his adult life.

“Ma, listen to me. I’m at the toy store and—”

“Oh, Angela, don’t go buying Timmy and Tracy any more toys. Your brother can barely move in that apartment as it is, with all the stuff they have. If Miranda had half a brain, she’d give some of the older things to the poor, but of course, Miranda doesn’t listen to anything / have to say—”

“Ma, I’m not buying anything for Timmy and Tracy. I’m shopping for Kimberly. Kirk’s niece?”

That stopped her short. “What are you doing that for?” she asked.

“The christening, Ma. Kirk invited me to the christening,” I said, as if this were no big deal—as if he might have even done it without her inquisition a few days ago.

But my mother wasn’t buying it. “Now he invites you? Why didn’t he think of it before?”

I sighed. “Ma, please, can’t you just help me out here? I don’t know what to get for a baby—”

“Shouldn’t he be buying the gift?”

Now I was the one tongue-tied. I knew Kirk was treading on thin ice in my mother’s estimation, and I didn’t want him to plunge into the freezing waters just because Ma deemed it important that we give a gift together. “Urn, he is giving a gift. Money, Ma. He’s giving money. He just…he just asked if I could pick up something for the baby to open,” I lied, trying

to make my solo shopping mission sound more like a couple effort.

“Money? What kind of gift is that for a godfather to give his godchild?”

I sighed.“Ma, that’s why I’m at the toy store. I’m picking out another gift…from both of us.”

“Well, if Kirk’s the godfather, shouldn’t he be buying a cross? You did say this was a christening, didn’t you? What kind of spiritual nourishment can money or toys provide? I don’t know about this guy, Angela…”

“It’s a mutual fund, Ma. He’s opening a mutual fund. You know, for the baby’s future?”

“Still, I think someone’s got to buy a cross.Whoever heard of a christening without a cross? That’s the godparent’s job, Angela, to get the cross.”

I sighed. Up until now, one of the few things my mom had liked about Kirk was that his mother had raised him Roman Catholic like she had been raised, despite the fact that Mr. Stevens was Episcopalian. Now even Kirk’s faith was being called into question. “I think Kayla’s buying the cross,” I said finally.

“Who?”

“Kayla. Kirk’s sister? She’s the godmother,” I replied, knowing that the chances of a woman with a seminude photo of herself hanging in the Smithsonian buying a cross were slim to none.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you then,” she said.

“What do you think of a doll?” I asked, that rubber-faced monstrosity suddenly looking good. Besides, it was only $24.95.

“A what? I can’t hear a damn thing, Angela, with that cell phone. I don’t know why you use it. You know, your Uncle Gino, God rest his soul—”

My temper spiked. “A doll, Ma, a doll!” I yelled.

An earsplitting yowl rang through the air, and in my state of pure frustration, I thought for a moment it had come from me. Until I looked down and saw a toddler had wandered into the aisle where I stood and had inadvertently received the full strength of my wrath in her delicate little ears.

“Ma, I gotta go,” I said, as the child wailed louder and a woman (likely the mother, given the angry look she shot at me) came by, crouching low to soothe the little girl. “I’ll call you later…”

“What?” my mother said, “I can’t hear—”

“I’ll call you later!” I yelled, earning myself another dirty look from the mother of the traumatized tot.

I clicked off, smiling apologetically at both mother and child as I stepped carefully around them and headed to the next aisle, which was somewhat quieter.

Spying a plastic cash register, I picked it up almost defiantly. I studied the tiny keys, pushed a few and watched stoically as numbers lit up the window at the top and a series of bells and whirls occurred. Perfect. Mutual funds. Cash register. Now that was a couple effort, I thought, glancing at the price tag: $39.99. I almost groaned, until I saw the angry mother walk by the aisle, carrying the now-screaming child. I had to get out of here. I picked up the cash register. It was only fifteen dollars more than I wanted to spend. What was fifteen dollars in the face of my future? Besides, a cash register might teach this little girl the value of money, which she was going to need if she spent any amount of time around her spendthrift aunt-to-be.

I carried it to the register, where Pippi now stood, a look of expectation on her face. “I’ll take this,” I said, fishing out my wallet and slapping down my Visa before I could change my mind. Or before Pippi could point out any potential hazards my choice might bring to little Kimberly. I had to get out of here, I thought again, glancing at my watch and realizing it was already two-fifteen and I was going to be seriously late for work.

“Would you like that gift-wrapped?” Pippi asked sweetly.

“Yes, please,” I said with relief. Another great failing of mine. I have no gift-wrapping abilities whatsoever.

I waited (somewhat impatiently) while Pippi folded corners, cut ribbons and applied tape with a mastery I grudgingly admired. Then almost choked when she cheerfully tapped on her register and said, “Fifty-six dollars and sixty-nine cents.”

“But the price said thirty-nine ninety-nine!” I argued.

“Seven dollars for the batteries inside the register. They aren’t included. And five-fifty for the gift wrap.”

“Five-fifty for gift wrap?” I grumbled, then felt embarrassed when I looked down at the beautifully wrapped present and realized I had probably hurt poor Pippi’s feelings. She was obviously a crafts queen, judging by the way she had twirled the ends of those ribbons. I handed over my card.

Fifty-six dollars and sixty-nine cents. I sighed. Well, it really wasn’t that much, right? After all, I was buying it for Kirk’s godchild…and, if all went according to plan, my future niece.

As it turned out, my future niece was going to cost me a whole lot more than $56.69 Or I should say, $436.14, which was the new grand total I had arrived at, if the calculations I did when I got to work that day were correct. And I was pretty sure they were, since I had added them up no less than three times, probably out of pure disbelief. Suddenly I became aware that I was investing an awful lot in this relationship, financially speaking. And I was getting very little return on that investment, I realized when I called Kirk before I left Lee and Laurie, to tell him I was on my way over.

“Can we make it another night?” he said.

“Another night?” I asked, eyeing the overflowing overnight bag I had stuffed beneath my desk (yes, I was still overpacking, despite my closet-space gains). I had had this stupid bag packed for two days now, as last night Kirk had decided at the eleventh hour that he couldn’t hang out after all.

“I just figured out a better design for this program I’m working on for Norwood and I want to see if I can get it to run.”

I sighed. Who was I to argue with my boyfriend’s ambition? After all, someone was going to have to make some money in this relationship if we ever hoped to have anything someday, and clearly, I thought, glancing at the gift I had crammed beneath my desk beside my overnight bag, it wasn’t going to be me.

“Okay,” I replied reluctantly. Then, because I wasn’t yet ready to face my co-workers, who were obviously hanging on every

word of my conversation despite the magazines they pretended to be buried in, I said, “Hey, I got a gift for Kimberly today.”

“Oh yeah? You didn’t have to do that,” Kirk said casually.

I didn’t?

“My family isn’t very big on gift giving…”

They weren’t? What kind of people didn’t give gifts? Especially at a christening. I mean, it wasn’t every day a child was recognized in the eyes of God.

Eesh. Now I was starting to sound like my mother.

“I…I wanted to.”

“That reminds me,” he said, “you need to book your ticket soon if we hope to get on the same flight.”

Book my ticket? “I thought you were going to do that… ”

“I booked mine weeks ago. Just after my sister called to invite me.”

And before he had invited me, I realized with a sinking feeling.

“Hang on, let me get you the flight details.”

As I dangled on the line, another realization struck me. I was going to have to pay for this ticket. On my Visa. You know, the one I’d already put a whopping $436.14 on? Now you might be wondering why this never occurred to me before. And that was because Kirk and I had one of those convenient little relationships where he paid for most everything, no questions asked. That was the difference between me and Kirk: He could whip out his Visa (Platinum, by the way) without a worry in the world. And, of course, he wasn’t aware that I was already way over budget for this month and that whipping out my Visa would have huge implications for me. Somehow this little turn of affairs made me realize how very unmarried we were…