by Cat Lavoie
“There you are,” Emma says, walking into the kitchen, her arms loaded with empty platters. “What are you doing in here alone?”
“Selling my soul to the blonde devil.”
“Rachel?” she asks, setting the platters down on the counter. A hopeful smile spreads across Emma’s face. “I noticed she’s not here. Please tell me she and Ollie broke up.”
“No such luck.” I sigh and fill Emma in on the details of my conversation with Rachel.
Emma takes the asparagus and brie mini-quiches out of the oven and arranges them neatly next to the mini-bagels with cream cheese and lox. “I have to admit that I never thought these two would last more than a week. Ollie is such a sweetheart and such a catch and, well, Rachel is kind of a...”
“Bitch?” I say, knowing Emma won’t say the word, even though it’s perfect to describe Rachel.
“Exactly.” She hands me a platter as we head out of the kitchen. “Now let’s go feed the wolves.”
My friends and I all made bets on how long Ollie and Rachel would last, and now—seven months down the line—we’re all losers. Adam gave it a few weeks, Emma and I put our money on a month or two and Tali said it wouldn’t even last the weekend. I was there when Ollie met Rachel and—had I decided to go dancing with him instead of hovering over the buffet—things might have turned out differently and maybe he wouldn’t have met her that night. I was Ollie’s plus one for the Brent & Associates holiday party and if there’s one thing Ollie’s firm is known for (besides building stuff) it’s their great parties. Kilborn PR, on the other hand, does not have amazing parties because Greta puts me in charge of them every year and, without fail, vetoes my ideas at the last minute. Like last year, she decided we should have a beach-themed holiday party. “I want the beach but I still want it to feel like Christmas,” she’d told me, ignoring the fact that I’d already covered the entire office in red and green tinsel and made eggnog and gingerbread cookies for everyone.
So I went hunting for an inflatable palm tree and hung some lights on it. Barry from Accounts volunteered to be Santa in a Speedo (I still have nightmares about that one) and we drank fruit punch and ate the coconut macaroons that I rushed home to make. I pulled it off in the end, but I wasn’t able to relax and enjoy it. I had to run around and make sure we had enough drinks and snacks. And then when I finally got a few minutes to sit down and enjoy the party, Barry from Accounts puked in the staircase. But at the Brent & Associates party, I could enjoy myself and not be the one responsible if things went wrong. It was really inspiring to be in a room full of architects who liked nothing more than to talk your ear off about their latest project. Not that I’m a big fan of mingling. I prefer hanging out close to the food and trying to figure out the recipes of the things I like so I can make them at home. So I’m guessing my food addiction is to blame for bringing Ollie and Rachel together.
“Rachel is on her way,” I tell Ollie, who’s piling food on his plate.
“Cool.” He takes another bite. “Rox, these spring rolls are amazing. You’ve really outdone your—wait a minute. Weren’t you sick this morning?”
I laugh. “It was all part of the ruse.”
“And here I was feeling guilty because I didn’t have two seconds to call and check up on you. It was such a busy day.”
“Sorry about that. I asked Mr. Brent to make sure you didn’t come home early.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “I should have known you’d pull something like this.”
“Wait until you see the desserts. I made all of your favorites. Lemon cake, raisin oatmeal cookies, double-fudge brownies and chocolate cupcakes with strawberry frosting.”
Ollie puts down his plate and hugs me. “I’m going to miss you, Rox. And so is my stomach.”
I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes for a second, listening to the sounds of the party. I hear people swarming around the food table, spoons and forks dropping to the floor, bottles of wine being emptied into glasses, excited voices talking. Emma’s high-pitched laugh resonates from across the room. When I hear someone say “Oops,” I open my eyes just in time to see a glass crash to the floor.
“Sorry, Rosie.” Calvin, one of Ollie’s ex-colleagues who’s never bothered to learn my name, is standing in the middle of a puddle of red wine and broken glass.
“I’ll take care of it,” Ollie says.
“Don’t you dare. This is your party. Go mingle.”
I’m about to go to the kitchen to grab some paper towels when I feel my cell phone vibrate against my thigh. I pull it out of my pocket and look at the name flashing across the screen.
“It’s Ethan.” I have a sudden jolt of excitement. I can’t wait for him to see all the work I’ve put into this party and how great it turned out. Maybe we can even put aside our little disagreements and have some fun.
Ollie puts his hand on my shoulder. “Take it. I’ll deal with Calvin the klutz.”
I smile and put the phone to my ear while covering my other ear with my hand. All of a sudden the noise in the apartment seems to amplify and I have trouble hearing Ethan. I also hear cars and horns. It sounds like he’s outside.
“Hello? Sweetie? ... Sweetie?”
“Ox. ... I.”
“What? I can’t hear you.” I smash the phone against my ear while moving through the room and step out into the hallway, closing the door behind me.
“Roxy, can you hear me?”
I stop in the middle of the hallway and lean against the wall. “Yes, I can hear you now. Are you coming over? We’ve got tons of food and...
“I’m not going up there. Can you just come down? I’m in front of your building.”
I feel my heart sink right down to the floor. But I want to avoid another fight at any cost so I don’t argue. “I’ll be right there.”
I go down the four flights of stairs at a snail’s pace even though I know Ethan is waiting. It gives me more time to think. Why did Ethan say he didn’t want to come up? Why am I going to meet my fiancé in the street when I’ve spent so much time on this party?
Before heading outside, I stop and—tilting my head slightly—look at my reflection in the permanently crooked mirror that hangs in the lobby. Hair? Messy, as usual. Teeth? Nothing stuck in them. Twenty pounds to lose? Still there. I sigh and comb a hand through my hair before stepping out into the street.
Ethan is leaning against a telephone pole. He’s staring in the opposite direction so he doesn’t see me right away. I look at him for a moment and my heart beats a little faster. I still get a major case of the butterflies when I see my man.
“Darling.” He reaches me in two strides and puts his arms around me.
“Hey, baby.” I crane my neck to kiss him. “So glad you’re here.”
“I’m really happy I got the chance to see you looking so pretty, although I’m not quite certain the length of your skirt is appropriate. You’re an engaged woman now. No longer on the prowl.” He smiles and kisses the tip of my nose. “Sorry I have to run like this but I had a very stressful day.”
I look down at my legs. The skirt stops a bit above my knees. My sister Steffi bought it for me the last time she came to New York. The first one she’d chosen for me had been so short I wouldn’t have been able to bend down without being indecent. But Ethan has always been a bit old-fashioned. I was a little worried about our age difference when we first started dating. Adam had reassured me, though. “You’re twenty-seven, he’s thirty-eight. Everything will be fine as long as he doesn’t start wearing socks with sandals or ask you to join him for dinner at three o’clock in the afternoon.” Despite all my efforts to bring them together, I know that Ethan doesn’t feel comfortable with my friends. I shouldn’t insist but...
“Please come up. I’ve made tons of food. You don’t have to stay long. I’ve put a lot of effort into this party and...”
I see his face tense up. Bad sign. “Roxy,” he begins in that tone I hate. It’s like he’s scolding a child who’s been caug
ht with her hand in the cookie jar. “I’m sure you spent a lot on this party. Time and money. Let me tell you how I think this story goes. I think you went to the market, maybe even several markets, and bought the best of everything and didn’t even look at the price. And I know you didn’t even think twice about putting everything on a credit card. Am I wrong, darling?”
I take a step back, shocked. I can’t believe we’re having this discussion now, standing in the middle of the sidewalk.
“No,” I say, my voice a little shaky.
You know when you start going out with somebody there are always a few things you don’t want the other person to know about you? Not right away, at least. Like how you paid for college by stripping on the weekends or how those double D’s are only B’s once you take all the stuffing out? Well, one of the things I would have liked to hide from Ethan in the beginning was my debt. My ever-lingering, ever-increasing debt. What can I say? I love buying things. I love it so much that about ten months ago, I got a letter from my bank inviting me to a credit counseling session. Personal finance expert and radio personality Ethan Covington will be presenting effective strategies to overcome debt and take control of your finances. I wasn’t going to go until I read the final line: refreshments will be served.
Did I go to a credit meeting for free coffee and pastries? Yes. But they were good pastries. And I figured that if my name made it onto a list of people who needed help, maybe I did need help. Maybe I did spend too much money. Food and restaurants. That’s what kills my credit. And kitchen gadgets. And exotic little shops with spices imported from India. And cookbooks. I have a shelf full of cookbooks upstairs and my goal is to own one from every kind of cuisine in the world. Is that so bad? Seems kind of noble, actually. Very worldly.
While I ate a raspberry danish—the first of four I’d eat during the hour-long meeting—personal finance expert Ethan Covington went on and on about not spending money you don’t have. But what happens when the only kind of money you have is the one you don’t have? Living in New York City is expensive. My share of the rent could feed a small country for a month. Anyway, I was only half-listening to what he was saying because I was too busy staring at him. Tall, dark, handsome, most probably debt-free. He seemed a little stiff, but when he smiled his face relaxed and he had the most amazing dimple. I thought he was incredibly dashing and incredibly out of my league. So I was really surprised when he asked me out for coffee at the end of the meeting.
Is it wise to date someone who knows how much money you owe before he knows what you put in your coffee? Maybe not. But Ethan was different from all the losers I’d gone out with up to that point. He had a job and a car and a very clear picture of where he wanted his life to be in five years. I never really asked but he volunteered the information on our first date. (Married with children running around the yard of a nice home in the suburbs. My radio show has become a nationally syndicated program and I’ve started my own financial consulting practice and I’m working on the follow-up to my bestselling personal finance book.) And he told me I was beautiful. He held my face in his hands and told me I was gorgeous. And I believed him, even though I barely believed it myself. Apart from Ollie and Adam, I’d never had a man tell me that I was pretty without adding ‘if you dropped a few pounds.’ No, Ethan doesn’t have a problem with the extra pounds; he has a problem with my bank account. How did I get so lucky? So I can pretty much guess what he’s going to tell me now. I brace myself for it.
“Darling, I don’t mean to be a bore but if we’re going to start a life together, you need to start thinking about fiscal responsibility.” He pauses and shakes his head. “Let’s talk about something else. Have you given any thought to what we discussed earlier?”
I’d been able to get the Island Wedding out of my head for a little while, what with the Rachel disaster and all.
“Actually...” I begin.
Actually, I have no idea what I’m going to say. I want Ethan to be happy. I want my family to be happy. But what would make me happy?
I stare at a particularly deep crack in the sidewalk and start over, trying to get the words out as fast as possible “Actually... I have. I want to get married in a church with all my friends and family. Steffi says she wants to help me find the perfect dress and I want my dad to give me away. I want us to stand up in front of everyone. So, no. I don’t want to get married on an island.”
I look up at Ethan and see that his eyes are rolled up to the sky. He’s annoyed. I reach out for his hand but he lifts it to his forehead before I can take it.
“Listen, Roxy. You know as well as I do that I’ve been there and done that and I have the divorce papers to prove it.”
Ahhh. Victoria, Ethan’s first wife. I call her Evil Vic when he’s not around. I knew she would find a way to weasel her way into this conversation.
I should let this go. I should end this conversation right here, right now and go back to my party. No good will come of this. But, of course, I don’t let it go. “I want a real wedding,” I say, looking straight into his eyes.
Ethan sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Just because the room isn’t filled with 100 people we barely know and 100 people we barely like does not mean it’s not a real wedding. Victoria and I had a big wedding, we stood up in front of everybody... and we failed. I’m ashamed of that and I don’t want to go through it again.”
“So we’re destined to fail according to you? That’s nice to hear coming from your fiancé.”
Ethan’s face tenses up. “Oh, Roxy. Grow up and stop acting like a child.”
I feel tears start to sting my eyes and turn away before he can see them. Why didn’t I just let it go?
“I’m sorry,” Ethan mumbles into my ear. He grabs my shoulders and turns me around to face him. “I’m sorry, darling. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I think it’s best if I go home now. I’m tired and I need to go to bed. I really hope this little party is worth all the trouble you went through.” He takes my hand and touches the diamond engagement ring on my finger. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I love you,” I say as I watch him walk away. After a few seconds, he turns the corner without looking back. He always looks back when we say goodbye. He always walks a few steps and then turns around, smiles at me, and says I love you back. That’s our thing.
Why didn’t I just agree to get married on that island? Everything would be so much simpler. What if I’ve lost Ethan? Oh shit... I can’t deal with this.
Feeling a bit unsteady, I sit down on the steps in front of my building.
Before I know it, tears start streaming down my face. Wonderful, Roxy. There’s a party going on upstairs and you’re outside making a fool of yourself in front of strangers walking by. Curious strangers who are looking at you funny. I put my face in my hands.
“Roxy Rule, where the fuck have you been? Everyone is looking for you!”
I wipe at my eyes as Tali comes down the stairs and sits down next to me. She takes a pack of cigarettes out of her bag and, as usual, offers me one. For once in my life, I wish I did smoke. This feels like it could be an appropriate time for a cigarette.
“Needed some air, huh?” Tali asks, taking a long drag.
I nod. “Ethan and I can’t even talk about the wedding without getting into an argument. How is it going to be when we’re actually married? How is it going to be when we have kids? I can already see it now. I’ll want to send them to public school and he’ll want to ship them off to some stuffy private school upstate and we’ll only see them on weekends. He makes me so mad sometimes... but I love him. I hate my job and my best friend is leaving me. All I have is Ethan. What if he decides that he doesn’t want to marry me anymore?”
Tali sighs and rolls her eyes. “Stop being such a drama queen. Everyone hates their job. Work is work and work sucks. And Ollie is not dying. You have email and phones and there’s a reason why some dude invented the airplane. And Ethan? It’s just a stressful time, that’s all. You g
uys will get over it. He’ll come around. You need to sit down and really talk about things. You can’t plan a wedding standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Have faith. Love is a many splendored thing. Love will conquer all...and all that shit.” She rolls her eyes again and smiles.
Not many things get to Tali. Not even a vanishing best friend and a wayward fiancé could bring her down. “It’s a Russian thing,” she once explained to me. “We’re tough.” But I know she has a heart of gold. It might be trapped in an ice cave sometimes, but it’s there.
“Thanks, Tali,” I say, giving her a hug. That’s when I see her strutting down the sidewalk coming towards us: The Last Thing I Need Right Now.
“Hello, Roxy,” Rachel says, her eyes lighting up. “Shouldn’t you be upstairs spending time with Oliver? You won’t see him for a while. So sad, don’t you think?” She beams at us and walks up the steps with ease, the clicking of her stiletto heels making my head hurt. Urgh. I can’t even look graceful in heels half as high as Rachel’s. I’d most likely trip and fall and skin my knees if I were in her shoes. But, then again, if I were in her shoes I’d be one miserable girl for many reasons. One of them being the constant hunger.
“I hope she chokes on a chicken wing,” Tali says, crushing her cigarette on the concrete step. I give her a look. “Right. The skinny bitch never eats. We should get back to the party and make sure she doesn’t poison the food or something.”
“Tell me the truth, Tali. Am I a complete disaster?” I hate that Rachel saw me like this. I don’t have a mirror, but I’m sure my hair is even more messed up than before and I can feel that my waterproof mascara has let me down and dried in long black trails across my cheeks.
“Nothing I can’t fix,” Tali says, as she starts pulling out an impressive arsenal of supplies from her handbag. After a few minutes, my hair is brushed, my face is clean and Tali is applying foundation, mascara, eyeliner and eye shadow with so much enthusiasm that I don’t have the heart to stop her.
