She's Out of Control (27 page)
“You're wonderful, and you can take forever with my drink.” He looks down at his pager and holds it up. “I need to go back to the hospital. It buzzed while you were in the kitchen. I've got a transplant patient, and he's not doing well. He's waiting for a liver, and his spirits are down today. I want to go back and assure him that liver is coming. I want to pray with him.”
“Will his parents mind?”
“He's a transfer patient from Chile; his parents are there. My Spanish is rusty, but I imagine God understands the prayers. He's here with a cousin who speaks English, and the little boy and I seem to communicate on a different level.”
I look back in the house. “Can I come with you?”
“Este is in isolation to keep him healthy for the operation, but I'd love to have you keep me company on the way there.”
“Oh, I don't want to interfere, but it will give me a chance to visit with Brea.”
And get out of here.
“Do you think I should stay with our parents, or is all right to leave them?”
“Look at our parents. They're practically planning our wedding. I think your mother just told my mother your SAT score. You're in.” Kevin laughs and I can't help my rapid blinking. He said wedding in a sentence, and he did not explode. He reaches for my other hand and takes both of them into his own. “I know Seth just left. I know all about your transition girl/guy theory. Arin explained it to me. But Ashley, what we shared in the parking lot that day was not just a wild moment.”
Still, as far as wild moments go, it was a pretty good one
. Strangely, my stomach feels this incredible surge as I remember his kiss, and I'm seeing that familiar look in his eyes. I look to my feet immediately. “I have other theories, you know, not just the transition theory.”
“Are they all as completely ludicrous as your transition guy theory?”
“Once I thought you had Kohlitis.”
“The disease?”
“No, the lack of personality. It's when people are good-looking their entire life, like Kohli Cahners, and so they don't develop a personality.”
“Wait a minute. You thought I didn't have a personality? Ashley, need I remind you that you were dating Seth Greenwood!”
“I didn't say I was right. It's just that I thought you might have it. Besides, the transition theory is quite respectable. I don't even think it's mine.” I stand up straighter, ready to defend my ideas.
“Fair enough. But technically, Seth was the transition guy because remember, we were seeing each other first. We went out before I became a Christian, before the engineer was even officially in the picture. But I have a proposition for you.”
“What kind of proposition?”
“I work with this great surgeon named David. He's single, not a Christian, but not looking for a serious romance either. He's perfect.”
“And this relates to me how?”
“I'm volunteering him to be your transition man. You can go on a couple of dates. He can even use the jalopy I used on our first date. I'm confident you'll come to the realization that Kevin Novak is irresistible by comparison.”
“You're a bit full of yourself, wouldn't you say? What if I fall madly for David? What if he becomes a Christian like you did?” I cross my arms. “What if he's bald?”
Kevin laughs out loud. “You like your men bald? I can shave my head.” He lifts his eyebrows, and looks at me from a down-turned face. “Let's go have dinner on our own.”
“We can't just leave. It's Thanksgiving. What will they say?”
“Who? Our parents?” Kevin looks into the window. “They won't miss us. It will give them a better chance to sell us on each other. If we were real estate, we'd be as good as in escrow.”
For some strange reason Kevin is under the impression that I'm Boardwalk. I'm not in a hurry to get married like I was a month ago. All at once it occurs to me that jumping from the frying pan to the fire can cause serious burns.
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
.
T
here 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?”
“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.”