by Beth Merlin
She waved me over to the table.
“So, this is nice, us ladies having brunch,” she said, folding the napkin onto her lap as I sat across from her.
“Very,” I said, trying to gauge her mood. “Sorry, I must not have set my alarm clock.”
“It’s amazing to me you function in the real world at all. What if you showed up forty-five minutes late for work, would they be okay with that?”
“Amazingly enough, that hasn’t ever happened,” I said.
“How’s your job?”
I hated the way she said the word job as if I was doing something truly reprehensible, like prostituting myself or selling drugs. When I was younger, she used to say that the only thing worth being was a noun. “Be a lawyer, be a doctor, be something that stands alone,” she would say.
I worked for a design house. I was artistic. I wasn’t a noun. Therefore, to her, I was expendable.
I used to wish that Diane von Furstenberg had a take your mother to work day, so she could see what I actually did. It was too late now. Now, I was without a job. My stomach was in knots. I ordered a chamomile tea from the waiter.
“My job is great,” I lied.
“You know, Gigi,” she said, between sips of her Bellini, “entertainment lawyers do all sorts of things with the fashion industry.”
“Uh-huh, let’s order,” I said, picking up my menu so it blocked out most of her face.
She forced the menu back down toward the table. “Gigi, when will you see that I’m on your side?”
“When you are,” I muttered under my breath. I wasn’t sure she heard me, but she dropped the conversation anyway.
I was relieved when our entrees came. I hoped eating would distract from the awkward silence, but I only got a minute’s reprieve.
“So, how is the dating situation?” she asked.
“Same as usual. I’ve gone on a few bad dates this month. Maybe one of them will call and ask me out for a second one?” I said somewhat sarcastically. She didn’t pick up on it.
“Gigi, did I ever tell you about when you were in second or third grade and Mrs. Madison called me in for a parent-teacher conference?”
“It must have been second grade. I had Mr. Kleinman in third grade.”
She ignored me and continued, “Mrs. Madison was concerned because all your drawings from coloring time were in very dark colors. Blacks, browns, and grays. Not oranges, reds, and yellows like the other kids in your class. So, when you came home, I asked you why you only used dark crayons. You looked me squarely in the eye and said, ‘Mommy, I sit at the end of the row. By the time the box of crayons gets to me, all the good colors are gone and only the yucky ones are left.’ Gigi, do you see where I’m going with this story?”
“Not really, no,” I said, sipping my tea.
“You were the last in line to pick, so you took whatever crayons were left in the box. Instead of getting out of your seat and asking to use the red or yellow crayons, or even demanding them, you accepted what was left. And while I understood it then, I don’t think you should still be settling for the dull colors now, do you?”
“Mom, I’m really not following.”
“I guess what I’m saying is that you should get out of your seat and demand to use all the colors, whatever colors you want. Don’t wait for the crayon box to come to you. Go to the crayon box. The right guy is out there for you, you just need to be more proactive. Look at how happy Alicia is. Why? Because she went to the box and pulled out Joshua.”
Her anecdote eerily hit the nail on the head as an allegory for what had been going on in my life. I was fired because my designs had lost their edge, focus, originality, and vitality. They were dull, boring, and dark, not unlike the pictures I’d drawn in the second grade. It was almost as if the last few months following the end of my relationship with Joshua, I was eight years old again, and the last in the row, willingly accepting whatever was left. My designs, once lauded as innovative and fashion-forward, became ordinary and complacent. The work of someone just settling. With every sketch and every one-night stand since Joshua, I hadn’t even been looking, let alone demanding, better from myself.
“I hear what you’re saying, I really do,” I answered.
“Good, because I just want you to be happy,” she said, putting her hand over mine.
We left the restaurant and headed to Bloomingdale’s to pick an engagement gift for Alicia and Joshua from their registry. I’d only agreed to go when I realized it would look strange for me not to be embracing this milestone in my best friend’s life. When we got there, the registry department was packed with brides. Dozens of twenty-something girls walked around with registry guns, scanning china, crystal, flatware, bedding, and kitchen gadgets. I secretly wished one of those guns had real bullets that could put me out of my misery. My stomach actually lurched when I read the sign over the computer that printed out the registry lists: They’ve Found Everything They’ve Dreamed Of. Now It’s Your Turn to Choose From the Heart.
“Isn’t that nice?” my mother said, commenting on the sign. She leaned over the computer terminal. “So how does this work?”
“You just put in their names and print out the list,” I answered impatiently.
She used one finger to type Alicia and Joshua’s names onto the screen. It took forever for her to finish and even longer for their long list of items to print out. I took the papers off the printer, and we headed farther into the store to see what our options were.
“Now, I want to get her one great thing. I hate when people give a whole mishmash of different items,” she said.
I shook my head. “I know, Mom.”
“What about you? What are you thinking of getting her?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.
“Well, if I can make a recommendation, you should get them something that stands alone, so that when they take out that platter or teapot, the two of them will know it came from you. If you give them a place setting of china, when they take it out on a holiday or family dinner, they’ll never be able to distinguish who gave it to them.”
A single place setting of china actually sounded ideal. The last thing I wanted was to give them a gift that gave Joshua any cause to think of me when he took it out at Thanksgiving dinner.
“It’s really crowded in here. Why don’t we divide and conquer? You take some of the list and I’ll take some. We can cover more ground that way.”
I wandered into the bedding department, far away from where I knew my mother would shop. She thought that giving bedding as a gift was unseemly and actually abhorred the idea of it being included on a registry. In this instance, I agreed with her, but curiosity got the best of me, and I had to see what Joshua and Alicia had picked out.
I wandered around the bedding department until I spotted the most expensive bedding set Bloomingdale’s carried. The sheets were 1500 thread count Egyptian cotton and stark white. Joshua currently owned a very similar set. Staring at the display, my mind drifted back to the first night I’d spent wrapped up in them at his apartment.
Joshua had called me at work and offered to make me dinner so that we could talk about the mistake we’d made days earlier. Having no time to freshen up, I did what many women living in New York City did when faced with that situation. On my way to his apartment, I made a detour to a retail chain store selling makeup and other beauty items. Best of all, they encouraged you to sample the products. I dabbed some perfume on in the front of the store and then continued to the back, where I applied new eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick. At work, I’d changed into a fantastic dress that wasn’t even in production yet.
We ended up in his stark white bed fifteen minutes after I got to his apartment and didn’t leave it until the next morning. We never got around to talking about the huge mistake we’d made the weekend before, or the even bigger one we’d just made. In fact, we hardly talked at all. It was the best, most passionate and exhilarating twelve hours of my life.
&n
bsp; I was so absorbed recalling it that I didn’t hear my name being called behind me. When I turned around, there was Joshua, standing in the Bloomingdale’s bedding department.
“I’ve been calling your name for the last two minutes,” Joshua said. “What has you so preoccupied?”
God, he was beautiful. He looked even better in his casual weekend attire than he did in his three-piece suits. His dirty-blond hair was perfectly tamed, with just a light amount of stubble on his face suggesting he hadn’t shaved that morning. He was always more relaxed when Alicia was out of town.
“Nothing. What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Alicia’s in Singapore for work,” he answered. “She sent me to do some wedding errands. What are you doing?”
“Looking for an engagement gift, for you actually. My mom’s somewhere in fine china. I should go find her,” I said, pushing past him.
His eyes softened. “Gigi, why do you keep running away from me? We did nothing wrong. Alicia and I were over when we... Please just—”
“We should keep up appearances in front of Alicia, but it’s probably just better if you and I keep to our separate corners.” I stared at the ground, trying not to let him see the tears that formed.
“Sweetheart, Gigi, you know—”
Before he could finish his thought, I heard my mother call my name, and we both turned to her.
“Joshua, honey, what a great surprise. Where’s Alicia?”
“Working in Singapore this week,” he answered quickly.
“Well, this is wonderful. Now you can tell me and Georgica exactly what we should get you. You and Alicia have such exquisite taste that I was having a difficult time choosing.” She took him by the arm and directed him toward the china and kitchenware area. “So, tell me about all the wedding plans,” she said, totally oblivious to the fact that she was meddling.
“Well, actually, we set a date in August.”
“So soon? Why so soon?” she asked.
“The timing works out perfectly with Alicia’s promotion. We can get married, take the honeymoon, and when she returns, she can start in her new position. She has a planner working out all the details anyway. It seemed to make the most sense,” he continued explaining, looking directly at me.
“Well, when it’s right, it’s right. No reason to wait,” she agreed.
I was stunned. They were getting married in four months. I’d thought I would at least have a year to resign myself to the idea, but no, they’d be husband and wife before the summer was over. I leaned against a display to steady myself and knocked over a glass vase in the process.
“Georgica!” my mother shrieked. I knelt down to pick up the pieces. A salesman rushed to our aid.
“I am so sorry,” I said, handing him the pieces of broken glass. The salesman didn’t answer me and continued to attend to the mess.
My mother stood off in the corner, embarrassed to be associated with the whole scene. Joshua stepped forward.
“I’ll go deal with this. It was my fault,” Joshua said, kneeling down next to me.
The salesman looked as though he really didn’t care, as long as someone paid for it. Joshua followed him to the register to settle the matter, and my mother and I waited for him.
“Such a gentleman,” she gushed. “Somebody raised that young man right. Alicia’s a very lucky woman.”
“Lucky,” I mumbled.
She leaned in close to me. “You know, I never thought I would see this side of you.”
“What side?
“You’re jealous. It’s perfectly understandable. Your best friend’s getting married, and not just some guy, to a great guy. I suppose I’d be jealous, too.”
Not wanting to delve into the issue, especially with Joshua so close by, I simply agreed with her. She pushed a piece of hair behind my ear.
“Gigi, remember what I told you at brunch. You could be that happy, too. Don’t settle. Go after what you want.”
If only it were that simple. What I wanted wasn’t up for grabs.
Joshua returned from the register and rejoined us. My mother prattled on about what a gracious gesture he’d made and how we would now, of course, have to get him whatever he and Alicia wanted for an engagement gift.
“Well, I’m not sure what Alicia wants, but I’m hoping someone buys us our comforter,” he said.
“If that’s what you want,” she said uncomfortably.
“Since you both have everything all figured out,” I interrupted, “I actually have to be going home.”
“Gigi, wait, I’m heading back uptown. I’ll go with you,” Joshua said.
“I’m not going uptown. I have to stop by my office and pick up some sketches,” I lied.
“I’ll walk you out to the subway, then,” he said.
My mother stood watching the exchange with a puzzled look on her face.
I put on my most genuine smile. “Great.”
I leaned over and kissed my mother’s cheek and told her I would call her later.
“Bye, Mrs. Goldstein,” Joshua added.
“How many times have I told you, it’s Kathryn,” she said.
“Kathryn,” he repeated. He leaned over and gave her a kiss on each cheek. She lit up immediately.
I rushed out of the store, and he could barely keep up with me as I weaved in and out of people and around counters.
“Gigi, slow down,” he shouted from behind me. He followed me until we reached the first floor. “I’ll make a scene if you don’t let me talk to you, you know I will,” he said with a mischievous smile.
I thought back to the morning after that first night at his apartment when he’d practically chased me through Central Park trying to convince me that what happened wasn’t a mistake and we shouldn’t feel guilty exploring the feelings we might have for one another. The more I pushed him away, the more ardent he’d become, until a small crowd gathered to watch the scene play out. I was so mortified, I eventually gave in to him. After that, we’d spent the rest of the day picnicking and making out in the park like teenagers.
Now I pulled him out of the crowd and over to a quieter corner of the jewelry department. “Fine, talk,” I said, shifting the weight back and forth from leg to leg.
“Let’s walk and talk. Where are you really going?” he asked.
“Home.”
We left Bloomingdales and headed up Lexington Avenue in silence, neither of us quite knowing what to say. We’d gone about three blocks when I finally spoke. I dug my hands into my pockets and spun around to face him. “You were so adamant about speaking to me. So speak.”
“Give me a second. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to say to you, but now, I’m not so sure,” he said.
By the time we got to my block, I was the one making the scene.
“August, Joshua? You’re getting married in August? What, you thought if you waited any longer you wouldn’t be able to go through with it?”
He paced back and forth running his fingers through his hair. “You begged me not to tell her, Gigi. Maybe if we had, things would have been different.”
“I don’t believe that,” I said, fumbling in my bag for my keys.
“So here we are again, at an impasse.”
“No, we’re at my apartment, and I’m going inside.”
I put down my bag and knelt on the ground to dig for my keys. Before I could stop him, Joshua grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up toward him. I didn’t fight him off.
I kissed him back, missing how good it felt to be held and wanted by him. I’d thought about this moment thousands of times since the night we ended our relationship, mentally playing out every possible scenario, almost convincing myself I’d be able to resist him. But now, with his arms wrapped around my waist and his lips working their way up my neck, I surrendered.
I took my keys and let us inside, his lips never leaving mine. We stumbled to my bed and just as I was about to let him right back in, my heart receptive to all of it, his phone rang. Alicia c
alling from Singapore. He hit ignore and placed the phone on my nightstand. He picked his shirt off the floor, slipped it back on and went to the kitchen for a glass of water.
I turned to my side and stared out my open bedroom window. My apartment faced the street, making the rent a little less expensive than it was in the other units. While we were together, Joshua hardly ever stayed at my place because he worried the commotion of Lexington Avenue would keep him up all night. Funny, it’d never bothered me before, yet suddenly all I could hear were taxis honking their horns and sirens rushing by. “The symphony of the city” my father always called it. Now it just sounded like noise.
He sat back down on the bed. I rolled back to face him. “You know what I was thinking about? Remember how we’d sneak down to the dock at Lake Chinooka—me, you, and Alicia? We’d dangle our feet in the water and talk and laugh until we got called to the dining hall. Remember how quiet it was?”
He slipped a pillow behind me. “What made you think about that?”
Inhaling deeply, I leaned back. “When Alicia got back from London, we decided it was best to hit the reset button and just go back to how it always was. Now we all need to live with our choices.”
“But what if I chose wrong?” he asked.
His phone rang again and he reached up to hit ignore.
“You should get that. It’s almost five. I’m sure Alicia just wants to say good morning.”
He looked down at his watch, “Strange. She’s getting up to start her day in and ours is coming to an end.”
Although there were a million things I wanted to say to him, the truth was we’d said and done more than any two people in our situation should have. He bent down to kiss my forehead as I handed him his phone. I pulled my knees close to my chest and waited for the thud of the front door as it shut behind him.
I went to the open window and watched as Joshua walked out of my building onto Lexington Avenue, the phone tightly pressed to his ear. Just as he turned the corner up 67th, two fire engines and an ambulance came screaming down the street. I pulled the window closed, but it didn’t make one bit of difference. I could still hear it all.
