What a Girl Wants

by Kristin Billerbeck

  I turn away so he won’t learn all my secrets again. “How about the Hyatt up the street? I’ll get my things.”

  Seth steps away, releasing me from his magnetic beam, and has his hands behind his back. He’s assessing my apartment, kind of like Prince Charles dignifying an English park. “Take your time.”

  My shoulders drop. Seth is an anomaly. He’s off-the-charts intelligent and patient to a fault, but socially he moves at a slower pace. Kind of a retarded pace.

  “Do you want anything to eat?” I ask.

  He scrunches his face. “No thanks. The rat thing has me a little skittish.” He shudders a bit.

  “Right. The rats. I personally don’t have rats. The policeman said the building is full of them. Infested actually.”

  “Is he an exterminator on the side?”

  “No, just rodent savvy, apparently.”

  “Well, no thanks on the food.” He rubs his stomach.

  “I threw a wedding shower for my brother’s fiancée today, so I never actually had a chance to eat.” This is a hint. I am available for dining somewhere, even with a coupon, but there’s no response. “I’m hoping the hotel will have room service.” New hint. Hello?

  “Arin called me,” he blurts.

  “From the rain forest?”

  “She’s not there yet. She’s in a Costa Rican hotel. That’s what I wanted to talk with you about. You never answered my e-mail.”

  “I was busy with the shower. What did she say?”

  “She called the good doctor first. That’s why she called me.”

  Heart is thumping a little bit here. I’m officially “the other woman.” How shocking and completely unrealistic. “And?”

  “He told Arin that he’s seeing you. That you two went on a date.”

  I stop packing the suitcase and look at him. There’s no reaction on his face. Is he sad about this? Mad? Dare I believe for a moment he might be jealous?

  “Are you seeing him?” he asks.

  Okay, am I technically seeing the doctor? I did kiss him. Do you think that counts? I’m not sure how to take this question. Is he curious because of Arin, or me? What if he’s jealous over her, and I’m the woman he wants to kiss because I’ve eliminated the competition?

  “We went to the city on Friday when I got home from Taiwan. Do you count that as seeing him?”

  He rubs his forehead. “I’m not sure. What did he say afterward?”

  “He’d call me.” I lift my eyebrows. Isn’t this standard guy-speak for “see ya”?

  “Did he call you?”

  “You know, Seth? If Arin wants to date the doctor, she should call him. I’m not in high school, and I’m not going to play telephone. If you want to pass her notes for her, fine, but leave me out of it.”

  He shrugs. What kind of answer is that?

  “Seth!” I wave my hand in front of those crystal eyes of his. They’re glazed over with no expression whatsoever. “Do you play poker?”

  “No, why?”

  “Seth, what is it you’re asking me?”

  The thin hard line of his mouth doesn’t budge. “Nothing. Like I said, I was just curious.” Seth surveys all the stuff I have in my house. Too much stuff for one person. “You know, I had a coworker who now has a startup Internet business. They move all your stuff into storage for an interim. They even pack dishes.”

  My mood brightens. “You’re kidding me?”

  “No. He got the idea after the dot-com explosion when all those jobless engineers had to exodus home to Ohio and the like. You want me to call him? That way you wouldn’t have to worry about moving out.”

  Seth is Superman! “I’d love it if you called him. I’m probably leaving for Taiwan on the morning plane.”

  “No problem. Just leave me your keys. I’m going back to work after this, so I’ll take care of it.”

  Now I’m picturing Seth rummaging through my stuff and finding old autographed pictures of Adam Ant or my autographed Tiger Beats. But it’s Seth. It’s not going to occur to Seth to rifle through my stuff, because Seth is not me.

  “Do you know what they charge?”

  “I think he’d probably move all this stuff for about a thousand. I’ve seen him work before.”

  “Does he charge for storage?”

  “Yeah, I think a hundred a night or so, but he’d probably cut you a deal, being my friend. You want me to get your car tomorrow?” Seth says.

  “Would you? I don’t want to leave it at the airport.”

  “No problem. Sam can help me get it.” He looks at my packed suitcase. “Why don’t you just call Kay for the night until you figure out what you’re going to do?”

  Kay Harding. Resident single anal retentive with permanent sidekick, the clipboard. But she has three bedrooms, she’s not my dangerous Superman here, and she’s not my mother, so technically, it’s not a bad idea. I’ll get my fill of hotel rooms tomorrow.

  “Do you think she’d mind?”

  “I don’t see why she would. It’s only for a night.”

  “I’ll call her.” Ringing her up, she answers like she’s at work. “Hi Kay, it’s Ashley. Listen, I was wondering if I might spend the night with you tonight. It seems my apartment has a slight infestation issue, and I’m leaving for Taiwan in the morning.”

  She agrees, albeit not readily, but at this point I’m not looking for a rousing response. I’d call Brea, but I can’t help but worry I’d catch her and John on a black mesh thong night and I’d never sleep a wink worrying about it.

  “She says it’s fine,” I whisper to Seth. “Thanks for thinking of it.”

  Seth still isn’t sitting and I don’t know if it’s me or the rats that make him more uncomfortable. I catch him glimpsing at me, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking about.

  “You’ll save money on a hotel,” Seth surmises.

  “Yeah, just think.”

  Seth picks up my suitcase. Another surprising act of chivalry! He touches my fingers gently as he takes the key while he intently stares down on me. With everything in me I want to kiss him. Not because he rescued me, or that he’s going to take care of moving all this garbage, but because when I’m with Seth I feel completely transported. There’s a fire within him that is carefully managed, like a white-hot, days-old campfire. Not like the fireworks I see fly when I’m with Kevin. Okay, so my own pyromaniac tendencies are coming out here, bear with me . . .

  Seth takes my suitcase and moves away from me, but I catch his eye again. He feels the slow burn too, even if he’s not blowing on the embers.

  “So you don’t want to get something to eat first?” I ask.

  He looks at me and I see him visibly swallow. “No, I should get home.” I know he doesn’t want to go home. I see it in his forced expression, but he will go home. If there’s any chance I’ll weaken his resolve, Seth will just dig his heels in further. It’s over. Anything we might have shared is not something he’s willing to deal with. Why can’t I just get that through my thick skull?

  So Seth is officially history.

  I breathe an audible sigh of relief, knowing I can leave for Taiwan and Mrs. Manger won’t sell my stuff to the highest bidder while I’m gone. The company car will pick me up in the morning. I’ll just need to call in the request.

  Once downstairs, I see Mrs. Manger peek out her curtain, but she doesn’t say anything to me. Three years I’ve lived in this apartment house, and it’s all ending at a moment’s notice. But do I have time to grieve? Heavens no, Seth is about four steps ahead of me and like a horse to the barn, he’s galloping to get back home to his movie. Engineers leave no room for sentiment.

  “Do you mind if I have a moment?”

  He stops dead in his tracks. “A moment for what?”

  “I want to say good-bye to the place. It’s been good to me.”

  He shrugs and takes off with my bag. I’m worried just how long I have so I wave to Mrs. Manger who slices her curtain shut with a vengeance.

  Seth is standing ne
xt to his beat-up Beamer with the door open. The passenger door.

  “It’s okay if you’re dating the doctor,” he says. “You should be dating the doctor. Arin doesn’t want him.”

  “You think that’s a good enough reason to date him?”

  “I know you wouldn’t hurt anyone, Ashley. I wanted you to know it wasn’t hurting Arin if you saw her ex.”

  Oh, Lord, everything in me wants to ask him if it hurt him, but my mouth won’t budge. Too much depends upon his answer, and I can’t handle it. Will You please move him if something’s supposed to happen here?

  He goes on. “She doesn’t want me either, by the way. You were right. She’s twenty-four and wants to see the world, not an old-timer engineer.”

  “I never said that.” I reach up for his cheek and run my hand down it. “I would never say that.”

  “Like I said, you wouldn’t hurt a fly, Ash. You deserve the good doctor.” He helps me into the seat and shuts the door.

  We drive to Kay’s in silence.

  20

  Seth is sitting right beside me in this car. We’re alone. I could say a million things. I could tell him how I feel. I could tell him the good doctor and I got caught up in a momentary rush of us both being dumped by the people we cared for. Would Seth care? Or would he ask me who it was that dumped me—with those big, blue eyes of his blinking like he doesn’t have a clue? The questions keep me silent and we roll along to Kay’s quiet street like two strangers in an elevator afraid to look at each other.

  Kay’s house is a three-bedroom bungalow just like I grew up in, but in a better neighborhood. It boasts a manicured lawn framed by flowers in January. Seth doesn’t help me out, which is fine and expected by now, but disappointing just the same. I thought we had shared a “moment.” But then, I’m thirty-one and single, so what do I know?

  Kay is obviously expecting me. The porch light is on, as well as walkway lights along the path toward the door. I feel a bit like a plane being guided down the runway with Seth as my ground crew. And maybe a little highlighted like the loser on American Idol left standing there all by myself while my counterparts make the trek happily to their chosen seats.

  Seth is moving on with his life, actually giving me his bless- ing for this other relationship. In other words, he’s practically walking me down the aisle and giving me away to Kevin. OOOH, PERFECT!! I can almost picture him lifting my veil and kissing me chastely on the cheek. What is it about women that we cling to familiarity? What we know, even if it stinks royally?

  Kay opens the door before I reach the front step. Seth drops my suitcase like a hot potato on the porch and waves me off like a departing plane. “See ya, Ash. I’ll take care of your stuff, don’t worry. Larry is great. Your car key is here, right?”

  Trusting a guy named Larry has me a little tense, but this is Seth so I pass it off as my own paranoia.

  “Bye, Seth. Thanks for dropping her by,” Kay says.

  Dropping her by? Am I a child on parental custody weekend?

  The Twilight Zone continues inside Kay’s house. For one thing, it smells better than my mother’s house on a Sunday night, and I’m starving. Yet raiding her fridge is probably not an option. Kay’s house is perfect. Not perfect as in she puts on a good show, but perfect in the letter sense of the word. Without even looking, I know that I can open a cabinet and everything will be lined up in ordered and alphabetical form.

  I also seriously doubt Kay possesses a junk drawer. Don’t you wonder what goes on in the mind of someone who doesn’t possess at least one good junk drawer? It kind of makes me fearful of sleeping in her house, like tonight might be the night she snaps or something.

  “There’s leftover meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Do you want some?” Kay asks.

  “Wow, meatloaf and mashed potatoes? Who did you have over?”

  She shrugs. “No one. I cook for myself because I enjoy it and I delight in a good home-cooked meal.”

  “Are you from my planet?” I ask with a laugh.

  She doesn’t get it. “Seriously, Ashley. Women shouldn’t wait until they get married to cook. I just think that’s a shame—as though we’re waiting for life to start with a man. It’s so peaceful for me to cook, to throw in ingredients and get my hands dirty. You should try it.” She obviously reads my doubtful expression. “Seriously.”

  “Oh, I’m not doubting you on the cooking aspect. For me, it’s more the thought that when a man comes along I’ll suddenly care about the kitchen.”

  “I’m forty-three. There’s no man coming. And that’s okay with me.”

  “It is?” She may be okay with it, but it’s my worst fear. What if this is it? What if I’m forever single and delight in smooshing hamburger together with bread crumbs and topping it with ketchup? Just shoot me now and put me out of my misery.

  Yet Kay possesses this Ghandi-like inner peace about life. I look around her house for clues. What on earth makes a person like her tick? There are stacks of plastic bins in an opened coat closet door. Every month is represented with a box. January is being packed away and February is out, with its plastic top lying on the pristine hardwood floor.

  “Sorry about that mess, I was just getting the house decorated for the month when you called.” She opens the February box and brings out tiny ceramic cupids and hearts and other Valentine memorabilia.

  “Do you set something up for each and every holiday?” I ask, incredulous.

  “Sure, it’s festive. And every year, I add something to each collection.” She smiles.

  It’s not my worst fear to be single. It is my worst fear that I might start collecting garage-sale fodder for fun. Or be so completely oblivious of any use for men. At the same time, I’m totally in awe of Kay. She’s completely at ease with who she is. She’s not a chameleon for men—and I have to appreciate that, even if I can’t necessarily duplicate it.

  “I like this little angel,” I say, holding up a trinket. Kay quickly reaches for it, as though I will drop it and shatter the thing into a billion pieces. Judging by its light quality and badly painted lips, it was probably $3.49 at Target, but to her, it’s special.

  I charged my cell in Seth’s car, and it’s ringing so it must have worked. Though I probably have limited minutes. I pass the angel carefully back to Kay as I don’t want to be indebted to her for the trip to pick up another ceramic angel with a red mustache.

  “Excuse me. It might be my boss.” I answer the phone, but it’s not a number I recognize on caller ID. “Hello. Ashley Stockingdale.”

  “Ashley, it’s Kevin Novak.”

  The good doctor. Yum. Just what I needed after a dose of Seth. Instinctively, I start twirling my short hair around my finger and my stomach is tingling. Maybe it’s my desire for meatloaf, but my mouth is dry and I can hear my heart pounding. It’s a cheap thrill, like asking a guy to a Sadie Hawkins dance and having him say YES like he was going to ask you.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t called. I’ve been on a twenty-four-hour shift.” His voice sounds weary. “I’m just about to crash, but I wanted to let you know what a good time I had in San Francisco and to find out when we could do it again.”

  I’m staring at the phone like it’s the biggest vegetable I’ve ever seen. A monster zucchini. I went out with this man two days ago. It’s not Wednesday, it’s not even do-or-die Thursday. It’s only Sunday night. Doesn’t he know standard guy phone-call etiquette and the desire to make us frantic? I haven’t even had time to get nervous.

  “I’m leaving for Taiwan tomorrow.” This is a test. Will he care? Will it give him room to wiggle out of offered date? Will he suddenly understand that his parents were right, that I’m an idiotic workaholic from the wrong kind of genetic background?

  “Again?”

  “Yes,” I sort of moan. “This is a big case, and it’s not over. General counsel kind of stuff, so it’s worth my while.” Stupid thing to say. Kind of like asking yourself to the head of the table and being asked to sit at the end.

  �
��Wow,” he says, sounding suitably impressed which only makes me feel that much smaller.

  “Yes, it’s a big coup for me.” I so don’t like myself right now.

  “So will you call me when you get back?” he asks. Still he persists. He’s a masochist, that’s it.

  “I don’t know where to reach you,” I admit. Maybe that is best. There’s no temptation in calling the guy if you don’t know his number, but if he knows you have the number he’ll be careful about juggling too many women. Am I right? Now you’d think in Christian circles one wouldn’t have to worry about such things, but men are men. Oh, Brea’s right. I am tainted and sick.

  Brea. It seems like forever since I talked to her. This day has lasted far too long. Eternity comes to mind, yet now I’m talking to a doctor who is too good to be true, living with Martha Stewart-on-steroids and trusting my life’s material possessions to Seth Green-wood.

  “Are you staying in the same hotel?” Kevin asks.

  “Yes, probably even the same room. There’s something about that cinder-block view that calls my name.”

  He laughs. It’s a melodious, deep laugh. He gets me at the core.But too good to be true. I have to keep telling myself that.

  “Here’s my number. Call me when you get back, okay? I will take you to a proper dinner without my parents.”

  “A proper dinner?” I bet it doesn’t have a coupon involved.

  “Where we sit down, and I’m not on call, and I can focus on getting to know you. I know it’s uncomfortable with Arin in my background, but I wanted you to know that before Arin, I broke up with a long-time girlfriend who moved to Minnesota, so I’m a little rusty on the dating scene.”

  I AM NOT THE TRANSITION GIRL! What are the chances? That little twig of a English Lit major was the transition girl. I am a Distinct Possibility. Even if his parents loathe me. Maybe especially if his parents loathe me. There’s hope for Doctor Kevin yet!

  “I’m a little rusty too,” I say, without the explanation that I haven’t had a real date in six months.

  “Good,” Kevin says. “We’ll relearn dating together. Call me when you get back.”

  I’m picturing his Hugh Jackman chin resting on that gallant hand of his, yet wondering if he’s going to take me to some fancy restaurant in That Car. I’m so shallow. And I don’t want to be, but it’s deep inside, that little Scarlett O’Hara streak of mine. If I just didn’t have any expectations, my life would be fine.