What a Girl Needs (15 page)

“You can’t keep living like this,” I tell her, as the boys occupy themselves by jumping up and down on my bed.
Well, Kay’s bed.

“Living like what?” she asks, as if we haven’t spent a full morning trying to hide Aquarium-gate from her mother. I know I’m speaking at her about all she needs to change, when I’m just avoiding that I need to change things myself. It’s so much easier to see other people’s garbage, isn’t it? I mean, everyone has a PhD in dealing with other people’s issues, but they’re in the alternative school when it comes to their own. Rather than reveal my own fears and mistakes, I go after hers with zeal.

“Like you might get caught making a mistake. No one is perfect, and you can’t live like this—ever vigilant. It’s like being in fight-or-flight mode all the time. The body is only equipped to deal with adrenaline overload for short spurts of time—like when you’re running from a tiger.”

“Have you met my mother? It’s all I know.”

I flick on the Nickelodeon station for the boys. She puts little sandals on Miles, which he wants no part of and wriggles as much as possible.

“No sues,” he says.

“Yes, shoes.” Brea flips the sandals with a faster motion than I’ve seen from an airport shoeshine guy, and then, the boys are in monkey motion again.

The doorbell rings and the boys stop jumping on the bed momentarily.

“Who could that be in the middle of the day? I hope it isn’t Bob the Builder—I mean, Matt Callaway.”

“Bob the Builder! Bob the Builder!” the boys squeal while they jump on my bed.

I leave the bedroom and make my way to the front door. It’s a man that I don’t recognize on the porch. He’s wearing a grey suit with a yellow tie, and a baby blue shirt. He looks innocuous enough, but he could be a vacuum cleaner salesman, and they are impossible to get rid of. “Who is it?”

“The name’s Thomas Galway.” He leans in towards the door. “Ashley? You don’t know me, but I’m Matt Callaway’s business partner. I’d like to discuss a proposition with you. It’s regarding your status as a patent attorney.”

I unlatch the door and open it. “I recognize your name,” I tell him. “You used to be at Silicon Graphics.”

“I did.” He nods. Although he’s clean-cut and well-groomed, there’s something wild about him. He’s got the slightest touch of Mick Jagger in him, a lawless look that I can’t place, but I imagine makes him very popular with the ladies in Silicon Valley.

I open the door. “If you’re looking for Matt, he’s not here yet.”
And you should tell him to work from his own house because his presence annoys me.

“No, I’m actually here to see you.”

There was a day when that sentence would have had me planning my wedding. Brea and the boys come out of the bedroom. “I’m interrupting,” Thomas says.

Imagine that when you show up unannounced
? “This is my friend Brea and her boys. Brea, this is Thomas Galway. He works with Matt.”

“Nice to meet you.” Brea shakes his hand. “We’ll just wait in the bedroom.”

It was obvious that Brea was ready to go, but upon finding a strange man in the living room, decided to wait out his visit. No doubt her finger is perched on the 9-11 button. She always claimed I was too trusting and I do manage to get myself into a bit of trouble occasionally, but Thomas is probably an engineer and a lawyer. How much damage could he do? Not to mention that I could probably take him.

“So what’s this about?”

He stands a little straighter, as if he’s preparing for some grand speech. “Matt told me you were staying here, and mentioned your outstanding credentials, but figured you wouldn’t believe him about the role we had for you.” He lifts up a navy blue paper folder.

It’s not that I don’t believe Matt. I just dislike him. And I think that my cocaine-dealing boss should always be the worst one I ever had.

“Role?” My eyebrows rise of their own volition. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

He wags his head, which shakes the Mick Jagger scruff on his neck.

“I live in Philadelphia now, so I’m not really looking for a role in California.” But let’s face it, I am looking for a role. I mean, the role of surgical intern’s wife is a lonely one. Possibly more lonely than when I was single.

“Just hear me out,” Thomas says. “You don’t like Matt – which is completely understandable.”

“I know, right?” I cover my lips with my fingertips as I realize I said that out loud. “I mean, how did you know that? Do I have a sign on my back or something?”

“Matt told me he wasn’t your favorite person and that might influence your wanting to work at the firm. He’s not a very likable person, I’ll grant you that, but he knows his stuff.” He claps his hands together then pulls a folder from his briefcase. “I’ll get right to the point. I’ve seen your background on LinkedIn and I want to make you an offer. You can stay in Philly, but we can work with you from there. You’d have to be here maybe one week every two months, but this is a lucrative business and I’d make it worth your while.”

My heart is pounding at the idea of getting back to work and litigating patents stolen from unsuspecting creatives. I can see myself in a Wonder Woman costume, twirling my lasso to attack the aggressors. In a figurative way, of course. No longer would I be beige, but I’d be red, white, and blue and pursuing truth, justice, and the American way.

Brea is behind me with a kid at the end of each arm. “We’ve got speech therapy.”

Translation:
Thomas looks okay. I’m leaving
. She heaves a giant bag over her shoulder, but she stays put.

I look back at Thomas. “I’m not really in a position to accept a job. My husband is home, and we’d need to discuss this together.” Saying the words, I realize how much it annoys me that I’m supposed to check-in with my husband who never answers his phone, and isn’t actually available to me. But I don’t want to think about that, so I focus on Kay’s problems with Matt, instead.

Thomas Galway may know more about Matt’s dating activities than Kay. He might even have some idea as to where the lawless undies came from.

“Have you ever been at Kay’s place before?” I ask him.

His expression contorts, as if I’ve asked him if he’s into threesomes. “Why would I come here before? Matt said you were staying with a friend. I’ve taken the liberty of putting my offer on paper and explaining rights, rules and our company expectations and payment schedules for successful patents.” His face is still pruned up like a dried apricot.

“Matt didn’t mention any connection to my friend? No engagement or entanglements of any sort on his side?”

“Matt and I make it a policy not to discuss our personal lives. We don’t have time.”

“That sounds healthy,” I say sarcastically.

“We’re on the job at different times, at all hours, you know how it is. We need more patent attorneys, and most of them are making so much at their firms, they’re not willing to risk coming over for percentages of start-ups, but you—you haven’t had anything going on for over two years now.”

“I’m happily married,” I tell him, as if this is all I need find fulfillment. If I were cut from the same cloth as Brea, maybe it would be true. At the moment, my lack of fulfillment seems like nothing more than another character flaw.

He ignores this personal data. “I want you on our team, Ashley. It’s a highly profitable business with a significant level of satisfaction in saving these smaller companies from those using the laws falsely.” He drops a folder on the coffee table. “Look it over, and call me before you leave for Philadelphia. My business card is in there.”

“That’s it? You don’t want to interview my past employers or anything?”

“I’ve seen your work. If I cared about your personality, I wouldn’t be working with Matt, would I?”

As quickly as he appeared, Thomas Galway disappears, and for the first time in months, I have options. Well, an option.

I look at Brea and think about how truly different we are – being married is enough for her. It’s always been enough for her. What’s wrong with me? If I were living with my parents, I’d move heaven and earth to get out. Brea just accepts what comes her way and floats along like a leaf on a current.

“That was weird,” Brea says.

“I know, right?”

“I’ve got to get the boys to their speech therapy. Do you want a ride to your mother’s house?”

“Thanks, not yet. I want to make sure her houseguests are gone. Plus, I need to look for something here.”

“If this has to do with Matt, you need to decide what you’re going to do. If that’s the man Kay wants, it’s the man she wants, but you need to tell her the truth. And before you take a job, any job, you need to figure out what you’re running from.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not running from anything. Friends don’t let friends date dirtbags.”

“Sometimes, friends have no choice.”

I don’t even finish the sentence when Matt walks in the door—without knocking. He sizes up Brea in an inappropriate manner, then looks at the kids. “You running a preschool?”

“On that note, we’ll be leaving.” Brea exits with the boys. “Matt,” she says under her breath as she passes him.

Matt and I stand in the foyer staring at each other awkwardly. I try to think about how to ask this question appropriately, but it boils over. “Did you have some chick here in Kay’s house? Some tramp who left her underwear behind?”

“What?” His wrinkled forehead suggests I’m in need of a straightjacket.

“Look,” I tell him. “I may have some issues, but I know where my underwear are at all times.”

“I’m sure you do, Ashley.”

“Normal people don’t leave their chones behind at other people’s houses, and I know those aren’t Kay’s.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you know how peaceful it is without you here?”

His words take the breath from me. Is that how Kevin feels too? But I’m on a mission.

“Last night, I found a pair of orange unmentionables underneath my bed. They were gone this morning. I don’t need to tell you that Kay isn’t the sort to wear orange unmentionables.”

“For unmentionables, you sure are mentioning them enough. I have no idea what color underwear Kay wears, they’re probably hers. And for your information, I didn’t even know you could buy such things in orange. Are we done now? Because, this is beyond awkward. When are you leaving?”

“What if I said I’m not leaving?

“I’d assume that what I said all along is true. You left to be a wife and mother, and it isn’t working out, so you’re back.”

I’m stunned silent—wondering how many others think exactly the same thing but don’t have the audacity to say it aloud.

“Did Thomas speak to you?”

“He did.”

Matt looks at the coffee table and sees the folder. “Ashley, take the job. It’s clear that you’ve got too much time on your hands and there’s no shame in admitting you made a mistake. Make a clean break from Philadelphia. You’re a good patent attorney.”

“The implication being I’m not a good wife?”

“I never said that. Quit being paranoid.” Matt removes his suit jacket. “I’m here to ask you a favor.”

“Me?”
Unless it’s to help him off the nearest cliff, I think he has the wrong person.

“You have to keep your mouth shut. Can you do that?”

“Maybe.”
Does it involve you leaving and never coming back? Lips are sealed.

“I’ve got an engagement ring picked out for Kay. I want you to come look at it before I buy it.”

A numbness settles over my limbs as I realize he’s completely serious.

“You’re into all that fashion stuff, right?”

I nod.

“So, do you think you can help me?”

This is happening. This is really happening and I can’t stop it
.

“Will you go with me or not?”

“Will I go with you where?” I finally manage.

“Tiffany’s. At the mall.”

“Tiffany’s? You’re buying Kay a Tiffany ring?” Blow me over with a feather. Maybe he does value her more than I imagined.

“Of course. No wife of mine is wearing a cheap ring. I have a reputation to uphold.”

My hope fades, but I’m more concerned that all my friends believe exactly what Matt Callaway had the gall to say. Maybe Kevin isn’t sure. Did he send me here in the hopes that I’d find my old life again and set him free before children saddled him?

“Can you come with me? Don’t make me beg,” Matt prods, and I’m too caught up in my fears to argue. Maybe this is the sheer pinnacle form of love that Matt is capable of showing. The question is; am I willing to be an accomplice to his pale form of love—even if it does come in a Tiffany blue box?

‡

M
att Callaway has
the uncanny ability to unnerve me; catch me off-guard, which ticks me off. But once again, I wasn’t able to speak my truth to him, and I’m on the way to the mall. As if I had no natural power of my own. This is the kind of surreal power Matt has over people—and precisely why I’m worried about Kay. She’s so innocent to the world. Thinks the best of everyone. Hopefully, it will protect me when I tell her about the underwear – after I go to Tiffany’s with Matt.

I tried to call Kevin while in the car, but surprise. He didn’t answer.