As we discuss our options, my sister-in-law, Mei Ling, gets out of the car. Mei Ling is from China originally, but she has that American-Asian model look. With the perfectly shaped nose for profile shots, and the skin that glows like J Lo’s does without the help of a bronzer. My life is like an international runway between Sophia’s exotic Italian looks and Mei Ling’s sophisticated appearance.
“Ashley!” Mei Ling pulls me into a hug, and we’re separated by the tiny ball that is my niece or nephew. “Where in heaven’s name have you been? I thought I might not see you before the appointed day.”
Mei Ling wants me to be in the room when the baby’s born. Brea asked the same thing, but Brea I know well enough to say, Not in this lifetime. With Mei Ling, I’m just hoping a legal emergency comes up.
“Kevin, this is Mei Ling, my sister-in-law.” I smile. “Believe it or not, she’s married to Dave.”
Kevin slaps my arm gently. “Mei Ling, it’s a pleasure.” Then he leans in as though sharing a great secret. “If Ashley and I escape this event, will you cover for us?” He holds up his pager. “I have to run to the hospital and I want some company.”
Mei Ling looks at Kevin, then to me. Her estimation is immediate. “You’re the doctor at Stanford?”
“I am.”
“Can you make sure the epidural flows freely when I need it?”
“Consider yourself numbed.”
“Then she’s all yours.” Mei Ling laughs and opens the front door.
“Can you really do that?” I ask Kevin.
“I can do anything. Fly with me, Ashley Stockingdale.” He clutches my hand and leads me into his car. And I just close my eyes. Prepare for takeoff.
26
There are some men who never learn to overcome their fear of commitment. According to statistics, they live nine years less than men who do get married. So I take heart that it’s Seth loss. I may have wasted nine full months, but he might be up to wasting nine years, so let’s call it even. On another interesting note, women who are married happily live longer. Not married happily, they die younger. That gives me pause on the whole commitment issue. Before you race toward that goal, be sure it’s the right finish line, you know?
As I look over at Kevin’s handsome profile, it disturbs me that my mind is elsewhere and not in the present. Life is precious. I’m going to make a commitment to be more upbeat. I’ll make that list tonight.
My cell phone rings as we’re on our way to the hospital. “Happy Thanksgiving, Ashley Stockingdale here.”
Kevin smiles at my creative greeting.
“Ash, your dog got out. He’s wandering the streets of Palo Alto as we speak, and I’m not chasing him.” Kay’s used up her last nerve and hangs up after delivering her message. Short and to the point, gotta love that. I know it’s not entirely Rhett’s fault. Serving dinner to the Reasons could do that to anyone, but Rhett is certainly not helping matters.
“I’m on my way,” I say into the dead phone.
Kevin wears a look of disappointment. “What?”
“My dog. He’s out.”
Kevin doesn’t even ask. He flips the car around. “I tell you, between you and me and our combined total of communication gadgets, the chance of us actually making it out on a date are slim.”
“I’ll come to the hospital after I find him. I promise.” I might not be welcomed at home otherwise.
Meanwhile, I’m praying silently for Rhett. He’s the sweetest dog in the world, and if it weren’t for his fetish for nylons, he’d probably be content in the backyard permanently. But it’s Thanksgiving, it’s practically a hosiery lover’s holiday out there on the streets of Palo Alto. Rhett is a victim of poor self-control tendencies.
When I pull up to the house, I see that Kay’s luminaries have been trashed and there’s sand lining the walkway from the bags. Kay is at the doorway, and in escrow or not, I think my days here are numbered.
“Ashley, that dog has to go. He ruined my party!”
Well, I’m sure the guests didn’t help.
Kevin looks at me, anxious to avoid the wrath of Kay. And who can blame him? “I’ll see you later, okay?”
I nod. “At the hospital. I’ll page you when I get there. And I will get there. I promise.”
“I’ve got plenty of work to do until you do. Take your time.” Kevin waits for me to close the door and drives off.
I stalk up the walkway, noting that my black roses are strewn about the porch in some kind of freaky indication that my day is not looking up.
“Come in here. We need to talk,” Kay says, sounding remarkably like my mother. Actually, worse than that, she sounds more like Brea’s mother.
I march into the house, and it’s a complete disaster. Which has nothing to do with my dog. The Reasons didn’t even clear the plates. The turkey carcass sits as a trophy in the middle of Kay’s table, wadded-up napkins are strewn across the floor, and a broken water glass gleams under the coffee table. Kay falls onto her sofa and starts to cry. I’m not talking a sign of simple emotion like a random tear, but these racking sobs.
“Kay, I’m so sorry. I never should have left Rhett here. I thought only of myself. Really, I’m so sorry.” I’d do anything to make her stop crying. Kay is the kind of woman you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley, and this is absolutely unnerving to see her performing an Ashley imitation. Maybe I should call Hans.
“It’s not Rhett, Ashley. He came back,” Kay sniffles. “He’s in the yard.”
“What is it then? Are you all right?”
“Look at this place, Ash! They left here as soon as the game was over. They didn’t offer to help clean up. They didn’t even say thank you.” She drops her face into her hands and continues to sob.
“It’s the expectation thing again. Kay, you need a good chick flick. I’m going to clean everything up. You sit here, and I’ll get one of my fluffy films, and you can pretend you’re me. Simple and carefree and entertained by sophomoric humor.” I smile at her, and she starts to laugh through her tears.
“I’m not going to leave you with this mess. Just give me a second to regroup.”
“I insist.” I run into my bedroom and grab So I Married an Axe Murderer. It doesn’t get any fluffier than Mike Myers, and when life is this depressing, only stupid humor will do. I flick on the movie, and start for the kitchen.
Kay is very neat when she cooks, cleaning as she goes. There’s hardly a mark that she’s just cooked for thirteen people, but the dining room is a disaster. Aluminum cans all over her antique table. Spilled soda everywhere, like a bunch of three-year-olds ate here.
“That’s it!” I slam my hand on the counter.
“Ashley?” Kay says from the other room.
I push through the swinging kitchen door. “No more of this!” I’ve got my fists clenched around a dish towel. “No more of these excuses for these people. They are not infants. Pastor Max is going to preach about decency or I’m doing it for him. Look at this crew, Kay. Kevin becomes a Christian and he can’t even be a part of the group because he’s not a lump. We are more than conquerors!”
“Sit down, Ashley. You’re getting flushed. I’ll clean up later.”
“No, no! This has nothing to do with cleaning. This is epidemic. Christians should act better than the average person. Seriously, with the Holy Spirit within, we have no excuse not to, and look at this mess. Do you think this lifestyle would attract anyone?”
“Flies?” Kay shrugs.
“I realize faith isn’t about the law, or doing, but this is ridiculous. How did these sloths ever become Christians in the first place? Most of them are still living off their parents’ faith, still living off their parents’ tithes. No more, Kay. We’re not enabling them anymore.”
“You’re pretty worked up over this.”
“I am! This culture enables these adults to remain children. I for one am through aiding in their destruction. You know that verse? Crave pure spiritual milk so that you can grow up in your salvation?�
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“Yeah, it’s 1 Peter, I think.”
“Well, they can’t crave spiritual milk when we’re feeding them the regular stuff. Promise me. You’re done with this.” I run into the kitchen, grab Kay’s clipboard, and come back out.
“What are you doing with that?”
“I want you to give up the clipboard, Kay. I want you to let these babies handle their own Saturday night schedule.”
“Ashley, give that to me.”
I pull it away. “No, I’m not allowing you to enable them anymore.” I stop the DVD.
“Give me the clipboard.” She gets up and comes toward me, and I see the fire crackling in the fireplace.
“Don’t come any closer or the clipboard gets it.”
“You wouldn’t dare! I’ve got everyone signed up for the Christmas dinner at MacArthur Park. I won’t know how many to make reservations for!”
I hold the clipboard closer to the fire. “Tell me you’re going to make them call for themselves, or it’s history.”
“Ashley, no, I have everything on that clipboard.” I take off the pages of Reason-related stuff and throw the clipboard at her.
“Promise me. And promise me you’ll erase this from your hard drive.” I wave the papers in the air.
“I like organizing. I have the gift of administration. That’s biblical.”
“You’re babying them! You’re aiding in the ruination of adult men in the Silicon Valley. For the sake of single Christian women every-where, will you quit?”
She sits back down on the sofa and calmly crosses her legs. “I’ll quit.”
And just as I turn my back to head for the kitchen, she starts after me. I run to the fire, and she’s grabbing the pages when I pull them away and thrust them into the flames. The edges slowly burn to a crisp black, and soon the type changes color. Then it is gone.
“You had no right to do that!” Kay screams.
“Look at this dining room and tell me you did a good thing today.”
“I served dinner to people who had nowhere else to go!” she yells.
“You served them fish instead of teaching them how to cast their line!”
I continue to pick up the dishes, and Kay sinks back down into the sofa, staring blankly into space.
“You’re just bitter because Seth left you.”
“I left Seth. And, if you want anything to change in your life, you’ll leave them.”
I flip the DVD back on, right to the infamous “head” scene that is such a true classic, and head to the kitchen. I start to run the warm water and find myself mesmerized by the translucent bubbles. It isn’t long before I hear Kay laughing at the scene in the movie, and it’s contagious and I laugh too. It’s comical, thinking I have the power to change anything. But I’m going to try anyway.
Rhett comes in and sits at my feet while I do the dishes amid the plastic sheeting of the kitchen, and I sigh deeply. Maybe a woman and her dog are the key to longevity. “I wonder, how many extra years will I get out of you, Rhett?”
27
Ashley, I’m back. Did you miss me?” Seth smoothes his head and tips Ashley’s chin up.
“No,” she says reliving The Thorn Birds beach scene. “No more!”
“I didn’t know what we had. I didn’t know how much I loved you.”
Ashley shakes her head frantically. “I loved you once, but not any longer. It’s over. You chose India. I choose Rhett.”
“You’re sure it’s not Kevin that you choose?”
Ashley gasps. “How did you know about Kevin?”
“Arin told me all about Kevin. My going to India was her elaborate plan to keep us apart, but we can’t be apart, Ashley. We were meant to be. Our lives are forever woven together like an intricately made Indian carpet.”
Perhaps more like a handmade toupee. However finely woven, a toupee still sits on the head like a bad baseball cap. Kevin doesn’t answer his page, so I head to the hospital in my own car, and leave Rhett and Kay laughing over one of my favorite cult classics. Kay’s not talking to me, but that’s to be expected. I figure I deserve some credit for not destroying the entire clipboard, but her expression doesn’t seem to imply gratitude as I leave the house. Hopefully Axe Murderer will have her in a better mood when I return.
The hospital parking lot is nearly empty, a virtual ghost town on the holiday, and I park my car right toward the front. I can see Kevin’s car in the doctor’s lot nearby so I know I’ve done well.
I flick my cell phone off, as I’m warned to do at the entrance, and head to Brea’s room. Again, I can hear her laughing. As I come in, she’s chowing down some turkey that her mother, who is scowling at me from a chair beside the bed, must have brought from home. Miles is beside Brea, gumming his fist.
“Ashley! Just what the day needed. Cute Juicy sweats! You got some kind of hair going on, though.” Brea puts her plate in her lap and claps her hands. Seeing the turkey reminds me that I’ve witnessed a lot of good food today, but I haven’t touched a bite of it. My stomach growls. “Are you hungry, Ash?”
“It’s okay. I’m going out to eat after this.”
Mrs. Browning folds her arms across her chest. “You’re not eating at your mother’s house?”
“She’s full up at the inn. Kevin’s parents are there.”
“What on earth?” Brea eyes widen. She’s ready for the story.
“Who’s Kevin?” Mrs. Browning shakes her head. “You go through men faster than a badly run coal mine.”
“Mother!” Brea chastises. “Ashley dated Seth forever. She does not go through men. They just don’t stick around.”
This is helping.
“Kevin’s parents came to town,” I explain. “They’re having dinner at my folks’.Kevin is here working, and then we’re going to grab a bite. We worked at the shelter this morning.”
“It’s time you both cooked for your own families.” Mrs. Browning is picking at baby Miles, smoothing his hair and wiping his face until I want to slap her hand away. Leave that baby alone!
“Brea, is your cousin Roy still single?” Brea’s cousin is trying to be an actor. As in, he’s been in L.A. waiting tables for nearly a decade, but because he’s part of the elite Browning clan, Brea’s mom would rather see him bus the counter for an eternity than my marry into the family.
“He is still single!” Brea says with too much enthusiasm.
“I’m leaving,” Mrs. Browning says. “Brea, I’ll come take care of Miles on Monday when John goes back to work.”
“I’m coming home tomorrow, Ash. Me and my little friend here.” Brea grabs the IV rack.
“Well that’s great! At least home has cable.”
“And Tivo. John’s been recording for me for the last week. Every reality show known to man is there waiting for me.”
“You girls would be better off to get your head into the Bible.”
“How utterly true, Mother. Thanks for the tip of the day. Get it, Ashley? Like on Queer Eye?”
“You two speak an entirely different language.” Mrs. Browning reaches down and kisses Brea’s forehead. “Take care of yourself. And don’t fool around too long. You need your rest.”
Once Mrs. Browning disappears, I go straight for Miles. “Can I have him now?”
“I personally thought you showed great restraint while my mother was here. Did you want to strangle her while she was doing that spit-and-polish thing on his face?”
“I’m that obvious, huh?”
“How’s your puppy?”
“Huge. He’s not part terrier after all. I bought this darling bag for him in Taiwan, but you can have it now. I thought I could carry him around in it, but he going to be so gigantic it won’t even hold his future chew toys.”
“Cool! Ashley castoffs. Much better than my TJ Maxx finds. So you don’t tell your best friend when there’s a new man in your life? Or an old one as the case may be? Kevin came here looking for you, so I knew to expect you.”
“I told him I’d page him
, but he didn’t return my call. Story of my life.”
“He didn’t think you’d last long with Kay. Said she looked hot enough to spit fire.”
“You should have seen her after I burned the clipboard contents.”
“You did not!”
“Long story. I have washed more dishes today between the shelter and my house than I’ve ever done in my whole lifetime. Even that time we whipped cream all over the open cabinets at your mother’s house and she made us clean up. Look,” I say, holding out my hands. “I even have dishpan hands and not a manicurist open on the entire peninsula. Tragic. Utterly tragic.”
Just then Kevin walks into the room and his smile just completely charms me. “Ashley, you are a sight for sore eyes.” And I must say, his voice is like heaven. I can’t believe how his smooth baritone instantly relaxes me. Kevin is like aromatherapy, only for the ears. What’s that called, audiotherapy?
Brea has a huge grin on her face, saying, yeah, she approves. That alone makes me want to forget that Seth ever existed.
“I’m starving! Quick! Let’s turn off our cell phones.”
Kevin rubs his stomach while he looks at Brea’s turkey dinner. “No emergencies during dinner. I prayed. Let’s go eat, I’m starving too. But no turkey. I don’t want to see another lump of stuffing as long as I live.”
“No turkey,” I agree. “I should have changed before I came. It never dawned on me after I finished all those dishes. I felt so sudsy and clean.”
“You did dishes again?”
“See?” I say, holding up my hands, looking for sympathy. He takes my palm and gently kisses it. What’s it like to breathe again?
He shakes his head. “No more dishpan hands for you! Come here.” He takes me to a long hallway, populated only by the rare sighting of a nurse. We duck into a room, and Kevin pulls out a tube of Nivea. He pours a bit out into my palm and starts to rub it in while occasionally planting a kiss on my wrist. It’s entirely too intimate for my comfort, and I yank my hand away while continuing to rub the moisturizer.
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