She's Out of Control (10 page)

“Puppies. I love puppies,” Sophia says. “I like little black ones, and cozy, furry brown ones. Puppies of all sorts.”

I start to laugh, but I quickly realize she's not trying to sound like Cruella DeVil. I clear my throat. “Yes, puppies are wonderful.”

“Do you really think so, Ashley?” Seth asks.

“Of course I do. What kind of person doesn't like puppies?”

“I'm just glad to hear you say that. I wasn't sure if you were a pet type of person.”

“I like kittens, too,” Sophia says. We all look at her like she's Rainman.

“Yes, well, Ashley, what do you think of Gainnet so far?” Hans says.

“I think I'm getting the hang of it. I think we'll have some key patents in place by early next year.”

“That's what I like to hear. Seth, you picked a winner. When's the wedding?”

I give Hans the evil eye, as much as I can master without Seth noticing. “What kind of puppy would you want, Ashley?” Seth asks.

“A cute little one. Something that could come with me to work in a great handbag, and hide under my desk.”

“That won't work while you're in Taiwan,” Hans points out. “We'll be making at least three trips to Taiwan in the next three months.”

Three trips
. That's one a month! “I have nowhere to keep a dog, Hans. I'm renting.”

“But I thought you were buying part of Kay's house?” Seth asks.

“I thought so, too,” Hans chimes in.

Suddenly, the men in my life have such great recall. “I haven't actually made up my mind yet on that.” We down BBQ as we talk, and I feel like I've probably got it all over my face, and I'm trying to be dainty while licking my fingers. There's more chattering, and my attention is drawn back to Hans.

“We're leaving for Taiwan on Tuesday. Did Ashley tell you that?” Hans asks Seth.

“But . . .” Seth begins to protest. “I thought . . .”

“I never agreed to leave on Tuesday. Seth and I have plans that were made in advance of this trip for Friday. Don't we, Seth?”

Hans continues, “I'm sure that was before he knew about your impending general counsel position. Did she tell you about that, Seth? That I'm talking to the board on her behalf.”

Seth's lips mold into a straight line and the blue in his eyes has darkened visibly in the candlelight. “I had a bit of a party planned for her Friday night, Hans. She's been working very hard lately.”

“You can have the party when she gets back. She'll be back on Saturday, and at that point she'll be able to celebrate that she's general counsel,” Hans says, and serves up more French bread.

Seth puts his napkin on the table and pushes his chair out with a squeal. “If you'll excuse me . . .”

“I told you we should talk about puppies!” Sophia says, and she, too, stomps away.

I've never seen Seth lose his cool before. It's a fascinating dance to watch, and for a brief moment, I believe I even saw jealousy in his eyes. How is that possible exactly? That he can avoid being alone with me for weeks, and then get angry that I should dedicate myself to work, or to buying a place of my own? I mean, what exactly are my options?

“We'd better go. Hans, thank you for having us, and please give our appreciation to Sophia. Her pesto was lovely.”

I follow Seth out the front door, and see Hans standing in the hallway, the light outlining his muscular physique. He's got a smile all the way to his eyes, and I'm left to scramble after my boyfriend like the beggar I have become.

“Seth, wait for me! You're walking too fast.”

“I'm moving too fast?” He slaps himself on the chest
. Yeah, go figure; never thought I'd say that. “I'm
moving too fast? Hans seems to be moving pretty quickly and I don't hear you complaining.”

“What's that supposed to mean? I tried to tell you, and . . .” I look down at my hands.

“Friday night. I have everyone coming over to my place. This surprise for you was something I worked on for a long time, but your job has ruined that too. It's all about your job.”

“My job?
My
job?” I can barely contain my anger. “You, who work 24/7, have the nerve to pick on my job? What am I supposed to do, Seth? You think it's a good idea for me to buy part of Kay's house. What do you think that tells me? You practically laugh when I tell you Hans is interested in me in
that
way, and yet when I make a move to get out of that position, to actually become a general counsel, you're mad at me because I have to change my schedule. I don't understand you, Seth.” I stop walking after him here. “I guess I'm not meant to.”

Seth steps forward, and I feel his closeness to my toes. As angry as I am, this man moves me like I'm his rag doll. He brings his hands around my face. “I don't know what I want, but Ashley Wilkes Stockingdale, I care about you and I don't like to see you treated that way.”

Which I find really odd, because doesn't he treat me “that way” too? I don't have time to think about it. He kisses me in the dead of the November night, and I'm pulled into the moment, but I don't feel anything. I feel numbness, like someone who's been hit too many times and ceases to feel the pain.

Hans is still in the doorway when Seth and I separate, the two of us looking like pathetic high schoolers, kissing on the sidewalk. I can hear Brea chanting in my ears:
Never kiss by the garden gate. Love is blind, but the neighbors ain't.

9

A
s I stand in front of my house in the darkness and watch Seth's taillights disappear around the corner, I suddenly remember a few words scribbled in my history. When I was in college, there was a poem written in graffiti along the several campus columns I passed on my route home. It was written in chalk but stayed there for years, probably because the janitor was a romantic at heart. The poem read:

I wish to
Make a lot of money
With which to
Buy her cute shoes.

So it's not Yeats, but there's something about that sentiment that has stuck with me through the years. What is more personal, more romantic, than quality footwear for your loved one? And Seth is never going to buy me shoes, because to him, it's like buying me jewelry, which he has no use for either. It defies the practical and enters the realm of romance. And romance is one thing he has become an expert at avoiding.

If you follow this equation to its natural end, he's never going to marry me because he cannot imagine giving up the practical for the sake of furthering our relationship. He's satisfied with that red stop sign at each corner of our courtship. And I'm not.

I'm not.
And there it is. Could this be the first time I've thought about what I wanted in this relationship?

Seth supposes that I'll be happy with our junior high going-steady gig for a lifetime. Marriage gets in the way of his life, and he's not willing to share that part of him. Giving up Seth is starting to feel like giving up any other unhealthy addiction. I love him, but he might not be the best thing. When Seth kissed me, he wriggled uncomfortably, kind of like the spider the old lady swallowed. I don't inspire romance in the man; I inspire fear. And that's just not good enough for me.

I'm beginning to view the world slightly differently. I can't help but wonder: If I cleared Seth out of the way, would God bring me something better? Could he bring me something where I didn't feel so desperate and tentative? I mean, insecurity is not a natural state, is it?

Kay is in the kitchen making candles when I arrive home, and the house smells like cinnamon-spice-scented wax. She peers up over the deep red liquid she's pouring. “Did you have fun at Hans's house?”

I shrug. “I guess.”

“Well, that sounds convincing. You should have stayed home and made candles with me. I invited the singles' group, but they decided to see a movie instead. In the meantime, I'll be ready for Christmas while they're scrambling at Macy's to get the last of the preseason holiday candles.”

“I've decided to buy part of the house,” I blurt, looking straight at Kay. “If that's still all right, of course.”

“You have?” She stops pouring wax and thrusts a fist to her hip. “Why? Is this some emotional outburst you're going to resent tomorrow?”

“No.” But part of me wonders. “Well, I don't think so anyway. I'm not backing out, regardless. I've waited around long enough, don't you think? I can't put my life on hold forever.”

“What if Friday is about an engagement, Ashley?”

“What if it's not? I don't want to make every decision based on my romantic aspirations. It's pathetic. Here.” I hand her the contract she gave me weeks ago. I've been carrying it around in my purse while I contemplated the future. “I'm serious this time. It's signed. We can have it notarized tomorrow after church.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I'm so sure. And I haven't told you how appreciative I am of you, that you would offer it. You're a fabulous friend, Kay. This house will force me to keep the job at Gainnet and make it work until I'm general counsel. I need real motivation. I seriously need to stop living in this dream world.”

“You're one driven person, Ashley. Does this mean you're calling Dr. Kevin?”

“It means I've given up on romance as an escape route. Whenever I feel a craving coming on, I'm going to run to the Bloomie's shoe sale and avoid men like the plague. If you still love the shoes when the credit card bill comes, you know true satisfaction. The idea that I'll ever feel that way about a man is laughable.”

“You could get out your Bible,” Kay suggests. “It sounds like your theology is a bit off, if you don't mind my saying so.”

“Are you about to give me the contentment sermon? Because I could throw it right back for the granite countertops and travertine bathrooms, you know. Your lack of contentment is feeding mine.” I smile, and we start to giggle.

Kay goes back to pouring the blood-red mixture. “Touché.”

“Ah, I'm sorry, Kay. I don't mean to jump at you. You deserve the kitchen of your dreams.” There's pumpkin-spice bread on the counter, and it's calling my name. I'm trying to do the Atkins diet, but it's the holidays. And Kay bakes. And the flesh is weak. “Can I have some of this?”

“Go ahead.” She offers me a knife and a napkin. “So what did Hans think of Seth?”

“Doesn't think he's worth my career,” I answer with my mouth full. “Hans has his own motives though, since he still wants me to fly to Taiwan on Tuesday. But I worked it out. I'm going Saturday morning.”

“You don't think Seth is going to propose, do you?” The way she asks the question is more like,
You're not inane enough to believe Friday's the day, are you?

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason, but I don't get your boyfriend. Let's put it that way.”

I gobble down the last crumbs of Kay's mouthwatering spice bread, ignoring any and all Atkins ambitions, and say good night. I walk into my bedroom, which is strewn with the many outfits I debated before I left tonight. I look in the mirror over my dresser, and there's a photo of Seth and me, dressed up for the Harvest Fair at church in our jeans and plaid shirts. I take the photo down and study it. I'm struck by the thought that we don't look happy. We look uncomfortable. Maybe even a bit suspicious.

I've wasted nine months and how many great outfits on the wrong man
. Arin is back now, and perhaps that's God's timing. Maybe she'll inspire romance in the man. As for me, I'm a bigger person for about two seconds, then the claws come out.
I hope their babies look like rain-forest monkeys and call Arin back to her previous missionary lifestyle.

I look around my room at the crisp white crown molding and the bright sunflower paint against the mix of antiques and Pottery Barn furniture. You know what? I have great taste. This room makes me happy. Seth just makes me nervous.

That night after my brother's wedding, when Seth came and swept me off my feet, I thought it would last forever. Now I'm pretty sure that nothing lasts forever except Jesus, and in the earthly realm, I'm better off with the solid foundation that is Palo Alto real estate. Authentic woodwork, and original hardwood floors, and a desirable zip code—be content in all circumstances, as Paul reminds us in the Bible. So I flop on my bed and put my hands behind my head.
I'm content, I'm content,
I tell myself until I fall asleep.

Friday, after a day of not really being at work mentally and getting ready for Taiwan the next day, I arrive at Seth's condominium anxious for my surprise, but cautious. I'm very cautious, unsure of what my answer will be if the question does turn out to be about marriage. The last time Seth “surprised” me was on Valentine's Day, when I got a Lucite paperweight with a Scripture quote written inside it. Now my heart is pounding as I knock at the door. I'm dressed like I'm ready for anything, in an Ann Taylor tweed skirt with a chocolate suede blazer, so I can be considered casual or elegant depending upon what the moment calls for.

Seth answers the door wearing holey jeans and a Stanford sweat-shirt. Not a good sign, and I feel my smile evaporate.

“Hi,” I say as enthusiastically as I can manage.

“Hi, yourself. Are you excited?” Seth asks.

“Should I be?”

“I think so. I waited weeks to find you the perfect match, and I've found it.”

“That's very cryptic.”

“All the better to surprise you with, my lady.” He takes my hand, and helps me slip out of my suede jacket, which he hangs up in the closet.

“Is anyone else here yet?”

“Brea and John were waiting for the babysitter to get there. Kay's on her way. I also invited Sam, Kevin, and Arin. I hope you don't mind.”