So Much for My Happy Ending (12 page)

Caleb didn't bother calling. It took less than ten minutes for his tall figure to materialize in my doorway. “If it isn't everybody's favorite princess. How's the fairy tale going?” He bent down and ruffled my hair before taking a seat opposite me.

I tried not to grimace. “Forget the fairy tale. We have more urgent matters to discuss.”

“Yes, I got your message. What's a 911?”

“Hello? It's an emergency. What else?”

“If it was an emergency you'd be calling the police, not the cosmetics manager. Unless…don't tell me you found a wrinkle?”

“Caleb, when were you going to tell me that you and Gigi have been planning things behind my back?”

Caleb scrunched his face up into a kind of confused-slash-offended look. “I don't plan with Gigi. I don't talk to Gigi. It's women like Gigi that give coke addicts a bad name.”

“Movie stars, lots of televisions, make-believe bars, is this ringing any bells for you?”

“If we're playing Pyramid I'm going to guess Betty Ford Clinic.”

“Caleb! I'm talking about February's promo!”

“February's…oh, wait—are you talking about your Academy Awards promo? Gigi gave me your memo and I told Liz I'd do it. Why, did you not want me to do it?”

“There's nothing to do! It isn't my promotion!”

“Honey, I looked at the name printed on the top and I'm pretty sure you're the only Silverperson who works here.”

“But I didn't write it! Gigi wrote it and she's passing it off as my idea!”

“Really?” Caleb straightened up. “Well, I suppose that makes more sense. That whole line—‘Come to Dawson's to celebrate the stars and leave looking like one'—didn't exactly sound like you, but I was really confused when I read your comment about the sassy sex appeal of Britney Spears.”

“Britney…Oh my God, my name's on
that?
”

Caleb leaned back in his chair until it creaked with strain. “So you're saying that Gigi sold the idea as yours…on purpose.” He shook his head, mystified. “Either she's a woman with a lot of marketing savvy who adores you or she's stupid and hates you.”

“She didn't know Barcelona was in Spain, if that's any help.”

Caleb waved the comment off. “That's because she was educated in California. You know how most people are here—they think there's only one state between us and New York. You know the place I'm talking about.” Caleb snapped his fingers as if it would help jog his memory. “That little rectangle state where Toto and Dorothy used to live. Anyway, I have no doubt that Gigi is ignorant about everything that doesn't directly pertain to her. When it comes to her career I bet she's one smart little diva. She knows what'll please Liz, she knows what'll sell, and she's willing to pull out all the stops to get you promoted quickly so she can take your job.”

“So she's trying to pass her good ideas off as mine so that she can become the next Sassy manager? Rather extreme, don't you think?”

“Just because it's not your goal…” Caleb shrugged without bothering to finish the rest of the sentence. “Look, I'll show you the memo so you'll know what you supposedly thought up. In the meantime I think you should just go with it. Take all the credit and give Gigi little to none. That'll teach her to try to make you look good behind your back.”

I held my hands up in the air as if to block the path of a heavy object. “I can't take this. I cannot take any more craziness. I walked in this morning looking for a little normalcy, just a little, Caleb. Is that really so much to ask? That people just act normal for one friggin' day?”

“At Dawson's?”

I brought my hands into a prayer position and pressed them to my lips.

Caleb studied me for a moment before leaning forward and squeezing my knee. “Spill.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why is it you need normalcy? Did something happen on your honeymoon that didn't fit your Cinderella fantasy?”

I looked away quickly. “My honeymoon was great…perfect. It was everything you could ever want a honeymoon to be.”

“Right.”

I glared at Caleb. “I'm just cranky because I'm a little under the weather today, upset stomach.”

“They say marriage does that to some people, but not usually until they've been in the institution for a good three or four years. Come on, April, tell Papa all about it.”

“Everything's fine, Caleb, really.” I checked my watch. “You know, if you really want to cheer me up you could sneak a few of those Lancôme gifts into my bag.”

Caleb grinned. “You're obviously not that sick.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because you're still as devious as ever. You without a mischievous streak is kind of like a dog with a warm nose.”

I pushed myself out of my chair and waited as Caleb collected himself. “I swear, Caleb, you always make the most flattering comparisons.”

 

I stayed at Dawson's for as long as humanly possible, but thanks to Gigi and her efficiency, the only thing left for me to do after the first nine and a half hours of work was stand around on the sales floor and gush to customers about the season's new color palette. Unfortunately I found that I was too anxious and preoccupied to fake a passion for seafoam green, so I eventually dragged myself home.

It was a quarter after eight when I carefully opened the front door to my house and listened for clues to what Tad was up to. I could hear the computer's printer producing something. At least I knew he wasn't staring at a wall. I went into our guest room, which doubled as an office, and dropped my purse on the fold-up futon. He looked up in surprise and then smiled as he rose to his feet. “I didn't hear you come in.” He wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. “I'm glad you're home—I was beginning to worry.”

I felt a huge rush of air escape me as I exhaled for the first time in weeks. He was back! My Tad was back! I placed a hand gently on his bicep as if to assure myself that the man holding me was real. “I didn't think you would…I was afraid…”

I looked up at Tad's face, expecting to see comprehension, but there was none. He simply caressed my hair and leaned in for a soft kiss. I tasted the remnants of wine clinging to his tongue.

“I am this close to nabbing that supplier,” he said, holding up his fingers to illustrate his proximity to success.

“That's great! Seriously, I am thrilled for you!” My enthusiasm was a little over the top but how could I help it? The evil twin had gone the way of all the other unpopular soap opera villains and now I had the man I married back in my arms. I went up on tiptoe and leaned in for another kiss, this time with added passion. Now that I had him back, I was going to make sure that it was worth his while to stay.

T
ad's mood continued to elevate in proportion to his income. He took me to Aqua to celebrate, and afterward we went to the Starlight Room where we attempted (and failed) to swing to the sounds of big band music. I didn't bring up the honeymoon. It was behind us as far as I was concerned, and that's where it was going to stay. In all likelihood the problem really had been jet lag. I would just make a point not to leave California by plane in the company of my husband ever again.

My mother had taken to telephoning my department every few days but I refused to talk to her. I found that this new strategy made her a lot easier to deal with—or not deal with, as it were.

And as much as I hated to admit it, the staff and the customers were having fun with the upcoming Celebrate the Stars promo. Gigi's idea had been better than mine. But I knew where Barcelona was, so I figured that made us even. My own lack of enthusiasm over the promotion was partly due to the fact that I was in the beginning stages of burnout. I kept reminding myself that if I could hang in there for a few more months I could make it into the buyers' offices. Tad was doing his part to make hanging in there a little easier by dropping off small gifts for me on my days off, so that I would discover them at the beginning of my next shift. It's amazing how a small box of Godiva chocolates can have such significant mood-elevating effects.

Two weeks had passed since my return and I really had nothing to complain about—except for one most likely little, but possibly huge, thing—which was why Allie and I were at Walgreens pricing home pregnancy tests.

“How could I have done this?” The question was posed more to myself than to Allie.

“Done what? Had sex with your husband?”

“Not been careful!” I grabbed the EPT test and dropped it in my basket next to the shower puff and dishwasher detergent. I was pretending that if I bought several items the clerk wouldn't notice the more intimate one.

Allie sighed and put a hand on my back, directing me toward the register. “We've all gotten caught up in the moment at one point or another.”

“That's not what this is about! This is about my inability to remember to take a stupid pill in the morning. This is about my taking minocycline for minor acne, despite the fact that it says right on the warning label that it may lessen the effectiveness of the Pill! Because I couldn't deal with the idea of having a pimple, Allie!” I bit my lip and forced myself to smile at the cashier as he rang up the sale. He rang up the EPT with the same enthusiasm with which he rang up the detergent. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or irritated. Shouldn't he care that my entire future depended on the outcome of that test? Shouldn't the world be stopping right about now?

I signed the charge slip and Allie and I took the bus up to her apartment. It was only five-thirty. Tad had called me at work to tell me he wouldn't be home until well after seven. That would give me time to get my negative result, laugh with Allie about the close call and have a vodka shot. Or two.

The bus stopped a block away from her apartment on Russian Hill and I glared up at the sky as the heavy mist turned into rain. “It never rains when I'm wearing practical shoes,” I grumbled.

Allie gave me a funny look as she unlocked the door to the lobby. “You
never
wear practical shoes.”

“So it should never rain.” I stomped up the steps and waited for her to open the door.

“You know you just started taking the Pill two months ago,” Allie pointed out as she ushered me in. “I don't think it's abnormal to be late while your body's adjusting to it.”

I sighed and peeled off my now-wet leather jacket. “You're right. I'm sure I'm not pregnant. I'm just pissed that I even have to entertain the possibility.”

Allie was reading the back of the box. “It says you just have to pee on the end of the stick and wait five minutes or less for a minus sign.”

I nodded. “I can do that.” Allie handed me the test and I went into the bathroom to urinate on my stick. I left it on top of the toilet and went out to meet Allie in the kitchen, where she was putting a kettle on the stove.

I wrinkled my brow. “I don't understand—you're making tea?”

“When it comes out negative we'll celebrate by putting some brandy in it.”

“You're so clever.” I checked my watch. “Has it been five minutes?”

“I don't think it's been thirty seconds.” Allie opened her cabinet doors to reveal a plethora of pilsners, wineglasses, whiskey glasses, margarita glasses and three ceramic cups. She handed me one that said “Congratulations Graduate” on it and took the one with her sister's wedding picture embossed on it for herself. “Tell you what, we wait until the water boils, then we'll take our tea into the bathroom together. As soon as we see the minus sign we'll come back for the brandy.”

I leaned against the kitchen counter and tested the old adage about watched pots. It did eventually boil, although I was sure it took an hour and not the five minutes that Allie insisted had passed. We poured the water over a few antiquated-looking tea bags and she put a new bottle of brandy down next to the sink with a definitive thump. “Okay, let's go to the potty room.”

We walked side by side to the bathroom and simultaneously leaned over the test.

We were both silent for a moment. Finally Allie cleared her throat. “Well, shit.”

I didn't say anything. I just stared at the blue plus sign.

Allie straightened up and leaned against the opposite wall. “You could take another test but the directions say that the only reason a person would get a false positive result is if they have some totally rare medical condition.”

“Oh,” I said, still not moving my eyes from the test. “I wonder what rare medical condition I have.”

“April…”

“I'm not pregnant, Allie.” I turned to her and tried to keep my voice from quivering. “Blakely wants to promote me to assistant buyer, did you know that?”

“Yeah, you mentioned—”

“And I'm going to take the job. I know it's not fair to Cherise but that's the way the world works. I'm going to be a buyer and Tad is going to continue to expand his business until we're both rich, and then in five years or so,
that's
when we'll have children. You see, we've worked the whole thing out.”

“April…”

“I can't be pregnant!” I screamed before collapsing in tears. I sat on the toilet seat, one hand clutching my nonalcoholic tea and the other grabbing for the toilet paper to keep my nose from running.

Allie kneeled beside me and put a hand on my knee. “You know, it could be a lot worse. You're married, April, to a wonderful guy. Tad might be happy.”

I shook my head. “We had things planned.”

“Have you ever heard that old Woody Allen joke?” Allie asked while handing me a few more squares of Charmin. “If you want to make God laugh tell him your future plans. Really, April, it's going to be okay. It'll be better than okay, it'll be good.”

“Oh, really?” I snapped. “Do you think Blakely and Liz will share your optimism?”

“Fuck Blakely and Liz. They don't have to know yet anyway. Didn't you tell me that Blakely was planning to fire Cherise within the next two months? Don't you see? It's perfect, April! You won't be showing by then and you'll take the job. By the time Blakely finds out there won't be anything she can do about it and you'll be off your feet for the last half of your pregnancy.”

I looked up at Allie and pushed some of my hair away from my face. “That could work.” I lifted my cup and then lowered it without tasting the watery tea. “So I just have to deal with Tad.”

“He'll be happy,” Allie assured me. “Guys like Tad are always happy when they get their wives knocked up. Just wait and see.”

 

I walked alone to the bus stop. It was eight o'clock at night and a cold wind caused the raindrops to sting as they hit my face. Allie had suggested that I take a cab, but some masochistic impulse had spurred me to decline. I sat on the wiggly seat under the Plexiglas dome and watched the street for the arrival of a Muni. I didn't even recognize the Suzuki that pulled to a stop in front of me.

“Yo, April, whatcha doin' sittin' out here in the middle of a storm?”

I squinted at Jeremiah, who was leaning over into his passenger seat in order to yell at me through the window.

“I'm building an ark,” I answered.

“What?”

“I'm waiting for the fucking bus, you moron.”

Jeremiah laughed and pushed the passenger door open. “I knew there was a reason I missed you. Come on in, I'll give you a ride.”

I shook my head. “It's all right. The bus will be here soon.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? The buses don't run when it's raining. It's in the Muni driver's contract or something.”

“It'll come eventually. Really, it's okay. Besides, my house is totally out of your way.”

“The whole city only covers eight miles. Come on, April, get in. The rain's fucking with my upholstery.”

Like this was my fault? I started to put up another argument but stopped myself. What
was
I doing? Did I really think the rain was going to magically wash the pregnancy away? I lowered my head and rushed into Jeremiah's car, slamming the door behind me. “You know, your upholstery couldn't get much worse.”

“Hey, don't knock the Suzuki. I bought it for five hundred dollars and it barely leaks.”

I looked up at the beads of water clinging to the edges of where the convertible roof was loosely attached. “Did it occur to you that a roof shouldn't leak at all?”

Jeremiah grinned as he put the car into gear. “I was talkin' about the oil.”

I laughed despite everything. Maybe the universe wasn't coming to an end. Maybe Allie was right and Tad would be happy. I put my hand flat against the window as if I could somehow draw strength from the wind howling outside.

“Hey, are you all right?”

I jumped slightly, then laughed at myself. For a split second I had forgotten he was there. “I'm going to be. I'm going to be fine.”

Jeremiah gave me a funny look but didn't say anything else for the rest of the ride. He stalled the car in front of my house and I started to open the door. His arm reached out and stopped me before I could get out. “You sure everything's cool? You haven't had any problems with Tad or nothin', right?”

It was an oddly stated question—grammatical issues aside. If he thought I was upset because of a lovers' quarrel then shouldn't he have asked if Tad
and
I were having problems? “Things with Tad are great.” I looked at his hand and he removed it from my arm.

He nodded slowly. “Okay, I was just checkin'. I know a lot of newlyweds have a tough time with all the transition shit. You know, we still have to go out to dinner, the three of us.”

“Yeah, of course…I'll call you tomorrow and we'll set it up.”

I bent my head down and ran to my front door. I waved at Jeremiah one more time as I stepped inside and watched him take off. The house was warm, indicating that the heat had been on for at least an hour, and I could hear the sounds of tinkering coming from the kitchen. Shit, he had cooked. The last thing I wanted to do was eat.

“April, is that you?”

“No, it's an intruder.” I tried to keep my tone light as I hung my coat and purse on the rack. “I'm here to attack you.”

I looked up as Tad bounded into the foyer and swung me up into his arms. “Goddess, I missed you!”

“Wow, it's only been twelve hours, I'm flattered.”

“That's all day!” he protested. “Come here, I've got to show you something!”

He threw me over his shoulder and took me into the spare bedroom where we had the computer set up. “Tad, are you on crack? Why are you so hyper?”

“Look!” He lowered me to my feet and spun me around so that I was facing a tall stack of papers. “That's my new business plan! By next year SBM will have tripled its income.”

“That's great.”
And by next year this bedroom is going to be a nursery.
“Are Sean and Eric on board with it?”

“Of course they will be, it's brilliant!” He giggled. “I'm a genius!”

“So they haven't actually seen the plan yet.”

“I told you they'll like it,” he snapped. “It's flawless, and there's more.” He whirled around before yanking me forward into the living room and pushing me onto the couch. “Tom called. They're going to be offering an entrepreneurship class this summer at City College and he wants me to teach it!”

“But Tom's a professor not an administrator. Can he really make that kind of decision?”

“Tom carries a lot of clout there.” I watched nervously as Tad zigzagged around the room. “He'll get me in. I already know what my curriculum will be. I bet I could convince them to offer the class on a regular basis. Maybe SF State will pick it up, or USF. This could be great! And the pay isn't bad either, not great but not bad. And I bet when word gets out that I teach business classes at reputable colleges and universities SBM will have more clients than ever!”