Shelter Me (11 page)

"Hello?"

"This is Liam Harris, I'm the assistant manager of the consumer electronics department at Ashefield's. Is this a good time to talk?"

I hesitated. "Yes," I said. "Is this about the...interview?"

"More or less." He let out a long breath. "Listen, I wanted to call you back and see if you were still interested in working here. Before you answer, let me assure you that the manager who interviewed you is no longer working with us."

I sat up. "Oh, really?"

"I can't go into details, but I'm sure I don't need to. The point is, whatever experience you had with him isn't representative of how we conduct ourselves, as a company. I've been going over the applications he took care of, and a lot of those people have understandably moved on. But all our college kids and high school graduates are going back to school in a couple months, and I'd love to have someone well trained to replace them. Would you be interested in coming in for another chat?"

"Sure," I said. What did I have to lose?
 

"How about this afternoon?"

"Yeah, all right, sounds good."

I hurried down the stairs, pausing in the kitchen to answer my parents' questioning glances.

"I might have a job," I said. "At Ashefield's."

My dad rolled his eyes, but my mom actually managed to smile.

"That's great, honey," she said. "Go get 'em."

***

Mr. Harris was a kindly man, probably approaching forty, who smiled, shook my hand, and apologized for the fact that he had to interview me in the seating area of the deli.

"No worries," I said.

"The office where we'd usually - well, you know all about that," he said, shuffling a folder full of papers. "We're having it steam-cleaned. We can't figure out how to get rid of the smell."

I laughed. "Have you tried Nature's Miracle?"

He glanced up at me. "What's that?"

"Oh, it's like, this - enzyme-based cleaner. You get it at pet stores. I have a dog, and she wasn't always as well-behaved as she is now. But I hear it works for cat stuff too."

"Do you think that's what it is?" Mr. Harris frowned. "That's what everyone else is saying, but I can't figure out how he managed to get cat smell all over the room. Unless he was smuggling his cat in here."

"Hey, anything's possible."

"I'm sorry," he said, putting on his reading glasses. "We've wasted enough of your time already, I think. Let's get down to business. Without experience, I can only offer you minimum wage for now, but you'll get a raise every six months. I need a clerk for my department, someone to help customers, cash out, cleaning, organizing, stocking, sales. All the usual stuff. I just need someone who will show up on time and put a little effort in. You seem like a nice kid. Now what's this business about not being able to work nights?"

"My sister," I said. "She's - she's in the hospital a lot, and my parents need me home to take care of the house, and the dog. You know."

"Sure," he said. "Well, that's no problem, just let me know ahead of time whenever you can."

"Absolutely," I said, feeling nervous and giddy all at once. "I'm sorry, are you - is this you offering me a job?"

"Sure," he said. "If you want it."

"I - yes. Of course."

I shook his hand again.

"There," he said. "That wasn't so terrible, was it? And now you've got the story of your first interview to tell
forever
. You'll never pay for drinks in your life."

"I don't know," I said, smiling. "It's a pretty good story, but it's probably only good for a bag of pretzels."

***

My mom was sitting in the kitchen, alone, when I came back. She was thumbing through a magazine, feigning interest, but I knew she was waiting for me.

"How'd it go?" she asked, before I even had a chance to grab a soda from the fridge.

"Good," I said. "He offered me a job. I start next week." I sat down at the table, fiddling with the label on my soda bottle.

"Well," my mom said. "I hope it works out for you, honey."

I shrugged. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"So," she said, closing the magazine. "Lily seemed pretty excited to talk to you today."

I took a moment to process this. I'd expected a cross-examination about my new job. "Uh, yeah. I guess so."

"She seems like a nice girl." My mom sipped some tea from her mug. "What do you think of her?"

"Yeah, she seems nice," I echoed.
 

"Well. I think you should certainly give her a call. Or a text."

"Okay," I said, perplexed. "I'm going to."

"Just don't let your job interfere with your social life, okay? Make sure you don't forget to get in touch with her."

"Okay, okay." I chuckled. "What are you making this into such a big deal?"

She shook her head in protest. "I'm not trying to! I just think she's a nice girl, and I worry about you working too hard and forgetting to enjoy yourself. That's all."

"I don't think that's a huge risk, to be honest." I grinned, getting up from the table. "I promise I'll give her a call."

***

In the end, I decided to take the simple approach with Lily.

I sent a single text:

Hey, what's up?

A few minutes later, my phone rang. It was her number, of course.

"Hey," I said, trapping the phone between my cheek and shoulder.
 

"Hi," she said. "Sorry, I hope you don't mind me calling. I kind of hate texting, you know? I'm
so
slow. Everybody makes fun of me." She giggled.

"Well, you know, practice makes perfect." I picked at a thread on my bedspread. "But no, it's fine. You can call me anytime you like."

She giggled again. "Well, that's good to know. I've just been thinking lately, I can't figure out why we don't spend more time together. You've always made me laugh, you know. You're a cool guy."

"Thanks," I said.
 

Okay, so I was flattered. As out-of-the-blue as this seemed to be, it was nice to know that someone was taking...well, some sort of an interest in me. We chatted for a while about nothing in particular, with her doing most of the talking - she loved to share her opinions, but didn't seem particularly interested in any of mine. But that was fine. I was happy to just listen.
 

She congratulated me on getting a job, and promised to come visit, though her parents "didn't like shopping at that kind of store." I wasn't going to ask, but she expounded on it anyway, telling me about how her dad didn't believe in supporting stores run by "predatory unions" or buying products made in China. After about five minutes I felt like I should be apologizing for working there, but finally she changed the subject to her college search.

I never minded hearing about Brandon's, but for some reason, hers in particular served as a harsh reminder of my lack of options in that department. She had a "short list" of options, all of which cost more for a year's tuition than my parents' house. She started running down the list of options and drawbacks for each one, not even pausing long enough for an "oh really?" or an "I see."
 

Finally, she paused long enough to take a breath. "I hope I'm not keeping you too long."

"Oh, no," I heard myself reply. "I've got unlimited minutes."

"Good!" she said. "Although, I should probably get going. I have another essay to write, for Biola. Their application is crazy. It's like forty pages long, I swear."

"That's too bad," I said. "But you're right, you should get to work on that."

"I'll see you soon, I hope."

"Yeah," I said. "See you soon."

So this was it. This was the sort of calm, steady, grown-up relationship that I needed. Calm, steady, and...boring.

No, that was unfair. It was well past time for me to give up the high drama of my grade-school crush, and trade it in for someone who could actually be there for me. And evidently, that was Lily.

My head was on board, one hundred percent. Now I just had to convince my heart.

CHAPTER TEN

Marissa

Mark had invited me to his house for dinner again. This seemed to be our new recurring pattern; we never went out anymore, and I never asked him why. He seemed to enjoy cooking, and it made him happy, so why not? I never felt fully comfortable in his house, knowing that the two of us were completely alone...but really, if my parents trusted him, shouldn't I?

I rang the doorbell, hearing my mom's engine rev only when the door swung open and I walked inside. I didn't meet his eyes, at first, but when I did, I was surprised by what I saw. His expression was tender and thoughtful - right now, he was "church Mark."

"Hello, Mari," he said softly. I stood very still as he came up and planted a kiss on my forehead. "Come in, dinner's almost ready."

I followed him into the dining room, which was decked out like he was expecting someone important. There was a long runner with tassels going down the middle of the table, a massive centerpiece of flowers, and tall candles burning in elegant crystal holders. Was all this for me?

I pulled out a chair and looked down at my plate. These weren't his usual dishes, either.

He came out of the kitchen with a bottle, which I expected, but this one let out a loud pop when he pulled out the cork. Belatedly, I noticed that instead of a wine glass, my table setting had a tall, slender champagne flute. Mark poured me a glass, then poured one for himself. He was watching at me, and smiling the whole time. But it wasn't a smile that gave me goosebumps. It seemed warm, genuine, the way he looked when he was counseling someone on Sunday after service.

Despite his earlier statement about dinner, he then sat down across from me and interlaced his fingers, looking at me searchingly. I swallowed hard, and managed to hold his gaze.

"You know, Marissa," he said. "I've been courting you for just about six weeks now. Did you know that?"

I didn't, but I nodded anyway. It seemed crass to not notice. People in brand new relationships were supposed to be counting the days, weren't they? Celebrating one-week anniversaries? I'd simply let the time slip by, unnoticed, and I would have believed any timeline he told me.
 

My life often didn't feel real to me. Sometimes I wondered if I was always half-asleep. But Mark - Mark was clearly awake.

He was still smiling at me.

"It's been wonderful," he said. "I've been having a lovely time getting to you know, and I hope you feel the same way. When I first came to Eternal Grace, I saw something in you that was precious. It's something that I think people have overlooked and ignored. You're beautiful, obviously, on the outside. But you have beauty on the inside too, even if sometimes you make it hard for people to see it."

I bit my lip. I never meant to make it hard for people to see, but he was right. Mark had seen through whatever mask I put on for the world, without even realizing it, and had seen me as worthwhile. Maybe that was why I sometimes felt so uncomfortable around him. I wasn't used to someone really seeing me. I wasn't used to trusting anyone to understand.

"I don't mean to boast," he was saying. "But I've always been good at seeing people's true natures. When I was little, my dad used to say I was 'blessed with the gift of discernment.' I see the things about people that they try to hide. Oftentimes, it's ugly. But with you, it was such a surprise. You have a depth of feeling that I don't often see in people. I understand why you might want to hide it - you feel like it makes you vulnerable. And I understand. But you never have to be afraid around me. I won't ever take advantage of your good nature. No good person would dare. It's too beautiful. Too precious."

I blinked, slowly. I was starting to feel like I was sitting church, listening to a sermon.

Mark cleared his throat. "Anyway," he said. "All that's a very long-winded way of saying...when I first met you, Mari, I was captivated by what I saw. From the moment we met, I was planning our wedding. But I knew I had to take things slow. I knew I'd have to gain your trust. But I feel like I've done that, and I hope you feel the same way. I don't want to wait any longer."

He reached into his pocket, and I felt a stab of panic in my chest. I blinked again, very, very slowly.

When I opened my eyes, there was a small velvet box sitting on the table between us. This wasn't real life, was it? It couldn't be. I kept my jaw clenched, willing my arm to lift up, telling my hand to pick up the box and open it. But every part of my body felt as heavy as lead.

"Here," said Mark. He reached over and flipped the box open, but I couldn't bring myself to look at what was inside. "Don't be scared," he said. "This is for you, Mari. It's all for you. This is what you deserve."

There was a tiny, translucent little spider creeping across one of the chrysanthemums in the centerpiece arrangement. I stared at him as he made his epic journey across the petals. I imagined myself as tiny as him, trying to scale the sides of the bowl like it was a massive rock wall, finally reaching a stem, struggling to get to the top of the flower. I remembered doing this when I was very young, huddled in my room, listening to my parents scream and shriek at each other. Listening to my dad calling Mary a whore and a tramp and a slut, throwing a glass against the wall. Hardly hearing the shattering noise, because I was so absorbed in my fantasy of being only a centimeter tall, climbing up the baseboards, so small that they wouldn't even notice me - so tiny, so insignificant, that their fighting didn't affect my life at all.

I forced myself to look at the ring.

The setting was delicate gold, with two small diamonds nested against each other in an off-center design.
 

"It was my grandmother's," Mark said, plucking it out of the box and holding it out to me. "A long time ago, my mother gave it to me, so I would be ready when I found the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And that's you, Mari. It's always been you."

I let him slide it onto my finger, feeling the strangeness of the metal band resting on my skin. I knew that, in time, wearing it would become second nature to me. It would feel strange to
not
have a ring on my finger.