Walk on Water

by Garner, Josephine

  How did she know so much about it I wondered but didn’t ask.

  “Luke does work for a living,” I said instead as I read the tag on the blouse for size and price. “Just like you and me.”

  “You better try it on just to be sure,” Corrine recommended.

  I did, and the blouse was a fine fit.

  “Gold earrings would look good with it, don’t you think?” I asked Corrine while a clerk rang up the blouse.

  I was relieved to be getting away from this adventure under $150.00. Maybe I would even offer to buy Corrine’s lunch.

  “Work-size ones,” she reminded me.

  “I have those.”

  “Do you have a patent-leather wide belt?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What do you mean sort of?”

  “I don’t think it’s actually leather,” I said signing the credit card receipt.

  “We have some very nice belts in Accessories,” offered the clerk.

  “We’ll check them out,” replied Corrine.

  On the way to Accessories, I argued that the belt I had at home would do just fine. No one would know the difference. I was not the exhibit after all.

  “You most certainly are,” Corrine countered. “Somebody’ll be sizing you up for second-wife material. Didn’t you say his folks were going to be there?”

  I froze in place, forcing Corrine to come back to me.

  “Oh come on, Rae,” she said. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, about the possibility. I mean you watch Lifetime.”

  I had dreamt about it, true enough, but it was a fantasy, not worthy of something as rational as thinking. And it had never been said out loud.

  “Isn’t that what you want?” Corrine asked. “To be with him?”

  I was with him. We had the this. I was satisfied. Corrine and I were standing in the middle of the aisle, forcing people to walk around us. I collected myself enough to move over to a rack of colorful scarves. This was what I could give for Christmas. I would just have to buy them from another store, a cheaper one. Weren’t they all made in China anyway?

  “Are you okay?” Corrine asked standing close to me.

  “These are nice,” I said about the scarves.

  “Look, I don’t blame you,” she said. “The disabled thing would make me a little nervous too. But you say he’s really fine in spite of it, and—”

  “Corrine,” I cut her off. “That’s not it.”

  “Then what?”

  “Luke’s not in love with me.”

  “Rachel—”

  “He’s not.”

  “He’s crazy about you,” she insisted. “You can’t convince—”

  “It’s not the same,” I said shaking my head. “I know. I know what it feels like…to be in love. He doesn’t feel that way about me. He never has.”

  “But he loves you.”

  I smiled.

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling a warming wave from the truth. “That’s what makes us such good friends.”

  I did have this.

  “He’s just not in love with you?” queried Corrine skeptically.

  “That’s right,” I replied.

  “And you think that makes a difference?”

  Of course it did. If Peter had been in love with Mommy I might have known him. He might be more than a high school picture. So yes it made a difference; the difference between billowing white and choking pink; between ever-after and once-upon-a-time.

  Corrine found the perfect belt and I paid for it. Then she talked me into shopping for new shoes, insisting that we had to buy shoes to match the belt to be on the safe side. I preferred the warehouse-type shoe stores where the prices were more reasonable and the salespeople didn’t hover around, but Corrine was not to be deterred, and I made my peace with it, although I was holding fast about the heel height.

  “Come on, Rachel,” she argued for the latest designer pair I had rejected. “Three inches is nothing. Plus they make your legs look so good.”

  “It’s a museum, Corrine,” I argued back as I checked myself out in the floor mirror. “Lots of walking and standing around.”

  “So sit in his lap and ride.”

  The shoes were really nice, but completely out of character, a pair of outliers that I would never feel comfortable in and Mrs. Sterling would know it. I’d probably trip and fall right on my ass.

  “Luke knows I wouldn’t wear a pair like these to work,” I ignored her sarcastic suggestion. “Just show me kitten-heels,” I spoke to the salesperson. “One-inch if you have them.”

  “I don’t know,” replied the salesperson doubtfully. “Not in a pump. We don’t have very much in that style in the store. Have you tried our online catalog?”

  “Call around to your other stores,” interjected Corrine sharply. “She has to have them by Tuesday.”

  But the exhibit was Thursday night. Corrine knew that. There was no need to dial-up the pressure.

  “It’s okay,” I spoke up, embarrassed for the salesperson and myself. “We can shop around.”

  “Well let me see what we have in the back,” he offered, not willing to give up on a sale just yet.

  “Who buys shoes online?” fumed Corrine once the salesperson had gone to do his search.

  “Actually a lot of people do,” I told her removing the designer heels and returning them to their box. “Me for one.”

  “Without trying them on first? How do you know they’ll fit?”

  “They don’t always,” I conceded. “But most of the time they do. You just have to stick with the same basic style and preferably the same brand.”

  “How boring!”

  There it was again, that word.

  “Not really,” I said sullenly.

  “You gotta jazz things up a little sometimes, Rae,” Corrine counseled.

  “Won’t that be trying too much?” I countered frostily.

  “Oh we’re getting a bitchy I see.”

  “I’m not bitchy,” I snapped under my breath. “Or boring. I just know what I like and I don’t have to spend all day looking for it.”

  “Touché!” laughed Corrine, snapping her fingers as she drew the letter Z in the air.

  However, by the time we were leaving the store Corrine and I had made up, and I had a new pair of black patent-leather pumps. The heels were too chunky for Corrine’s tastes, but they did match the new belt and they had cute little bowties on the toe-box. They were also marked down for clearance so at least I was ending up just over my $150.00 mark.

  Passing through the jewelry department, a sale on 14karat gold earrings caught Corrine’s eye and she stopped at the counter to admire the merchandise. I was determined to stick to the earrings I had at home, so this time Corrine was shopping for herself, and I was patiently waiting.

  Then I saw Luke. He was at another counter, with a friend, a man. A salesperson was showing them ladies’ watches. It was almost surreal, like seeing Mrs. Sterling that day at the mall, but why shouldn’t he be here? Luke hadn’t seen me, and I debated whether or not to go over and say hi. Should I bother them? It would mean introducing Corrine to Luke; and after our earlier conversation regarding second-wife material, what if Luke was buying a present for Stephanie-the-teacher? Corrine would feel sorry for me and I would feel stupid.

  Perhaps it was my staring too long but Luke looked away from the watches and our eyes met. He smiled and I did too. Now I had no choice but to take the risk. Touching Corrine on the arm I said, “You’ve been wanting to meet Luke Sterling. Well here’s your chance.”

  Luke was rolling towards us.

  “Hi!” I greeted him brightly once he reached us.

  This time with his faded jeans, he was wearing a charcoal gray t-shirt with long sleeves and a Texas Rangers baseball cap. Usually I kissed him hello, but with Corrine watching I didn’t know what to do. She would only read things into it.

  “Hey!” he returned. “What are you up to?”

  Preparing to be seen with you,
I thought but did not say. I hoped Corrine wouldn’t say it either. Luke needed a shave. I guessed this was part of Corrine’s old money casual, the simple act of looking good without really trying.

  “Spending money,” I casually replied. “What else?”

  Corrine was poking me in the ribs.

  “Corrine Wallace,” I obliged. “Luke Sterling.”

  “Hello Corrine,” Luke said extending his gloved right hand to her.

  “Luke the Magnificent,” she gushed. “Rachel talks about you non-stop.”

  That was neither fair, nor exactly true, and it was embarrassing, but Luke grinned.

  “Hope I can still count on your vote,” he joked with Corrine and winked at me.

  “It’s a landslide,” declared Corrine.

  Luke’s companion joined us.

  “I see Sterling’s hogging all the pretty women for himself as usual,” the man teased. “I’m Ted Robbins.”

  “In the interest of full disclosure,” Luke added. “He dragged me in here today to look for a birthday present for his wife.”

  “Too bad for me,” quipped Corrine as she was shaking Ted’s hand.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, although I thought I might have seen him before, possibly at one of Luke’s parties from twenty years ago.

  “So what are you giving Mrs. Robbins?” Corrine asked Ted.

  “I was thinking about a nice watch,” Ted answered.

  “Okay, come on, cowboy,” Corrine said, taking Ted by the arm. “Let’s see what two men call ‘nice’. I may need to intervene on my sister’s behalf.”

  “Corrine, we—” I tried to conduct my own intervention but they were already walking away.

  “She’s something,” Luke chuckled when we were alone.

  “Something else,” I said.

  “I’m kind of surprised to see you. Thought you stayed out of the mall on Saturdays.”

  “A fashion emergency,” I replied too honestly. “Well an urgency anyway.”

  Luke smiled.

  “Hot date tonight?” he asked.

  Brian had called, but I had put him off again. Tonight I really was washing my hair and keeping company with Agatha and T-T, but maybe I should be coy about it.

  “Not tonight,” I said in a tone that left room for some possibilities for the weekend. “What about you? Anything special on the menu at Chez Luke tonight?”

  “Beer and pizza,” he replied.

  And Stephanie, I thought.

  “And DVDs?” I asked.

  “Maybe.”

  Luke had always been better at the game than I was. While we made chit-chat about how crowded the store was and the early Christmas decorations, I wondered if he even realized that I wanted him to invite me over, that I wanted to be on that lovely leather couch again. And this time I would stay on it. If it meant literally sitting on my hands then I would do it, I would stay beside him. God—I had to get myself a new center of the universe!

  “So what’d you buy?” Luke finally got around to asking.

  “Oh, a blouse,” I replied. “And shoes. A belt.”

  He nodded as if he approved, and silly me was on the verge of showing him like I needed that approval.

  “Maybe we should rescue your friend,” I suggested as a tactical maneuver. “Corrine can break a bank faster than anybody I know.”

  “I say we let her,” replied Luke. “Lizzie’s pretty terrific and deserves it.”

  “Have you and Ted been friends a long time?” I asked more for something to say than any other reason.

  “Yeah, since we were kids. He was one of my groomsmen, and I’m pretty sure his ego took a hit just now when you didn’t remember him. I think you even danced with him.”

  “Oh God!” I said mortified as the memory flooded back. “Teddy! But-but he was skinnier!”

  “We all were,” Luke laughed. “And had more hair.”

  “I’m so embarrassed! Should I apologize?”

  “Nah, I wouldn’t make a big deal out of it.”

  But it was a big deal. I tried to recall where Teddy—Ted—was positioned in the picture; probably not at the bottom, or the end, in the last place. What were you supposed to do with wedding pictures when the marriage ended in divorce?

  “Wow,” I sighed. “I can’t believe I didn’t remember him and he remembered me.”

  “Let it go, Rachel,” Luke said. “It wasn’t your wedding.”

  Suddenly my eyes welled, and I pivoted away from him, fingering the earrings on a display at the counter. His wedding wasn’t mine because he wasn’t mine. This, everybody seemed to remember. I felt Luke’s hand at the small of my back and I tried mightily to swallow the tears out of my eyes. After all wiping them away would only heighten the silly drama.

  “Hey,” Luke said gently. “What is it?”

  “Can I help you?” asked a salesperson.

  No one could. I was hopeless.

  “I’ll take these,” I replied handing her a pair of silver hoops.

  “Oh nice,” she said and took the earrings and my credit card to her register.

  “Rachel?” Luke pressed. His hand on my waist now, he turned me back to face him. “What’s this about? Did I say—”

  “Hormones!” I chirped, smiling down at him.

  Maybe it wasn’t a lie. Maybe lust created a hormonal imbalance.

  “Talk to me, Rachel,” Luke said.

  “Here you go,” interrupted the salesperson.

  I turned my attention back to her, and Luke took his hand away. I signed yet another credit card receipt and the salesperson handed me my new earrings.

  As I was stuffing the new smaller bag into my larger one, and avoiding Luke’s eyes, Corrine and Ted came back. Ted was carrying a small bag of his own and wearing a big grin. Another fashion-rescue I guessed accomplished by Corrine, who maybe should work on some kind of commission.

  “Hey man,” Ted said. “We gotta go downstairs to gift wrap.”

  “Success?” asked Luke.

  “Totally!” Ted replied. “Corrine even thought about making sure the watch is waterproof. Brilliant!”

  “Corrine,” Luke said. “Hope you’re charging him a finder’s fee.”

  “I’ll just stick it to Rachel,” Corrine laughed.

  “Of course,” I laughed too, recovered from my mini meltdown. “And why not?”

  “How ‘bout a Starbuck’s something or other?” suggested Ted.

  “Some other time, big guy,” answered Corrine. “We’re on our way to lunch.”

  “Where?” asked Ted eagerly.

  “Slow your roll,” said Luke. “We just had lunch.”

  A sheepish grin filled Ted’s face. I glanced at Corrine.

  “Ready, Rae?” she asked, picking up on the signal.

  I nodded.

  “See ya’ later,” I said to Luke, and before I could confuse myself about it I kissed him on the cheek.

  Catching my hand in his, he squeezed it tightly and let go. I stepped back.

  “It’s nice meeting you,” Corrine said, shaking Luke’s hand again.

  “Same here,” he returned.

  “Bye, Ted,” she said. “Mrs. Robbins is going to love her watch.”

  “Thanks for the help,” he replied, looking almost disappointed.

  I couldn’t remember meeting Ted’s Lizzie, but Luke was right, it had not been my wedding. As we were heading towards the Nordstrom’s exit Corrine hooked her arm in mine.

  “Girl, no wonder!” she gushed again. “He’s hot!”

  “Corrine, please,” I replied, pushing open the glass door and pulling away from her.

  The autumn sunshine was bright but mild, and it felt like I could finally catch my breath again. Tearing up like that, and in front of Luke too, how bizarre. Maybe it really was PMS.

  “Okay,” Corrine carried on as we walked to my car. “The whole wheelchair thing is a bummer, but my God—those shoulders. And Mr. Magnificent knows it too. Did you checkout that t-shirt he was wearing?
Honey, we’ve seen men in the gym, men with working legs, and their shirts off, that don’t look that good. I almost squeezed one of those biceps just to see if they were real. That Ted was kinda cute too. Wonder if he has a brother.”

  I was putting my bags in the trunk of the car.

  “At least your lover-man is aging well. Wearing that baseball cap,” she giggled. “Talk about your boyish charm. I can certainly see how he got four kids. Little Miss Muffy probably couldn’t keep her hands off him.”

  Slamming the trunk, I came around to the passenger side of the car and unlocked the door.

  “Can you just get in the car please?” I said.

  When I got in the car, Corrine resumed her silly babble.

  “So tell the truth, you jump his bones yet?” she wanted to know.

  “Corrine!” I cried.

  “Well have you?”

  “For the one thousandth time, it’s not like that between us.”

  I started the car.

  “Bullshit!” she shot back. “It’s exactly like that between you. And if you fool around and let Stephanie-the-teacher beat you to the punch then you deserve to get knocked out.”

  FOURTEEN

  The day of the museum exhibit I brought my outfit on hangers, and left the silk blouse and pencil skirt hanging in my car until six o’clock when most everyone else had left the office. Given all the negative possibilities if I had worn the outfit to work: lunch stain; client’s baby spitting-up; snagging my skirt on some piece of metal sticking out from a chair; the inevitable wrinkles from sitting all day at a desk; pantyhose run; it was just safer to get dressed right before I left for the museum, and that way reduce my relative risk. The new shoes, however, I wore all day to break them in and make sure they were comfortable.

  No wonder people thought I was a bore. I must be an obsessive planner, a compulsive scheduler, terrified to let anything happen by chance because I was a neurotic perfectionist. Had I always been this way? Was it Mommy’s fault? Maybe it was simply the result of a lifetime of working against the odds. How could you trust a roll of the dice? A gain might come quickly and then be lost immediately, and then where would you be? Worse off than before because you could, in fact, miss what you had had. I trusted in God, but in everything else—everybody else, maybe including myself—I wasn’t prepared to go that far.