Chance (2 page)

"You're suspiciously evasive."

Kai suggested he make introductions at the coffee shop –
their
coffee shop – as a kind of neutral ground.  That alone was enough to worry her.

"Is she the jealous type?"

He spared a small smile.

"You ask as if I hav
e some means to compare."

Crystal was in Mary’s sights all of five seconds before she had her pegged, knowing at once the set of her shoulders and the cast of her eyes, the way she kept one hand possessively on Kai's knee throughout their
introduction.  She was every self-important bride-to-be who ever walked into the shop, pretty and deserving, solidly at the center of her own world.

Mary knew then it was the beginning of the end.

"It's been nice knowing you, Kai," she joked the next morning.

"You don't like her."

"Like has nothing to do with it.  I
know
her.  Mark my words."

A few weeks later Crystal put a decisive end to their weekly meetings for coffee, an announcement Kai made with
stammering, apologetic regret.  He wasn't amused when she hummed the funeral march in response.

Their courtship was tumultuous.
  At times they were as two planets in a synchronous orbit: Crystal brilliant, basking in the sun, and Kai forever in her shadow.  She flirted with other men, angry when he reacted with bewildered passivity.  She dragged him to clubs, then abandoned him for the dance floor when he wanted only to sit quietly and have a drink.

Mary finally found a way to air he
r concerns in the form of gentle implication, rather than a wildly waving red flag.

"If you're so frustrated, why do you stay?"

"I don't know.  Because I hate confrontation?"

"You do realize what you just said..."

"I know."

"Do you like being ignored?"

Another pause, one hand flinching on his knee.

"It's what I know."

Kai looked and sounded worse on the morning commute, soldiering into an even deeper and more persistent silence as he sat there, sniffling and looking out the window.

"Should I ask if you've thought of anything for Valentine's Day?"

He laughed quietly, "Not since fourteen hours ago, no."

"Does she have a favorite place to eat?"

"She likes clubs.
  Bars.  Anywhere there's a lot of noise and people."

"Maybe you could suggest a nice night i
n, just the two of you.  Make her dinner, or spread a blanket on the living room floor and have a picnic."  Kai looked at her, and she folded her arms uncomfortably.  "What?  I think it's a sweet idea."

"You've been reading that magazine again,
haven't you?  The one with all the quizzes?"

"Oh,
shh."

"She's not the picnicking type."

"Well, you said she's been giving you hints.  You've clearly picked up on them -- what has she hinted for?"

He held it
to himself a moment, then said, "Jewelry."

"Oh boy.
  Run away from that one."

"Yes, exactly.
  She's not… subtle."

Kai sneezed miserably and Mary winced, curling the backs of her fingers to his forehead.
  His eyes flashed open, shoulders gathering uncomfortably, then gradually relaxing.  "Kai, please don't be sick."

"I don’t think I can honor th
e request."

"I hate when you're sick.
  It's so… not like you."

"I thought that was a good thing?"

The train coasted, and they looked to the window before he made a motion to the aisle. "This is me."

She slid
out to let him pass, softly rubbing between his shoulders as he waited for the line to move.  He trembled with a small, contained cough.

"Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Only because you asked so nicely."

"I mean it.
  You want to feel better for tomorrow, don't you?"

"Mm."

"I'll see you tonight?"

"Tonight," he echoed, nodding a goodbye to her as the shuffle of feet finally carried him away.

*******

Shortly after lunch, the chirp of her cell alerted her to the first and only text message she'd ever received.

GOING HOME.
  SICK.

The originating number was Kai's.  Even in text he could not part from his brevity.

"S
tella," she called across the bridal shop floor, the air loud with the whisper of taffeta and crinoline.  "Got a minute?"

A dark-haired woman, crouched at the feet of a modeling bride, looked over distractedly.
  She removed the spray of pins from between her lips.

"What is it?"

"Is it all right if I leave early? Someone…" she looked at the cell phone, then wagged it in the air.  "My friend is sick.  I'm worried about him, I'd like to—"

"Not tonight, Mary, real
ly – tomorrow's Valentine's day, we've got six brides coming in, and three more before closing tonight.  I need all the hands I can get.  I'm sorry.  Normally, I'd say—"

"No, never mind," she waved a dismissive hand, smiling in sad amusement. "
You know what, it was a stupid idea, he's already got… well, never mind.  It's fine."

With no one waiting for her on the train, Mary offered to close for the night, helping Stella fit away the last of the gowns, running the vacuum cleaner and d
rawing the blinds.  She was gathering her bags from behind the counter when a frantic pair of knuckles rapped the glass.

"I'm sorry, we're closed," she looked over.
  "We're open again tomorrow at sev—"

She froze,
then rushed to unlock the door.

"
Crystal
? What… what on earth are you doing here?"  Her heart froze.  "Is Kai all right?"

Crystal looked no more pleased to see her than at any of their previous encounters.

"Oh.  I didn't know you worked here."

Mary sagged against the door, pressing a palm to her head.

"Oh, thank God.  When I saw you, I thought… "  she weighed the other woman's impatience, then said, "So… can I do something for you?"

"I'm here to pick up a
dress."

She laughed, trying to foil her glare. "Not a bridal gown, right?"

Crystal's teeth set, eyes hardening, and Mary nervously withdrew her smile. "Sorry, I… well, we're closed right now, but—"

"Can I just
pick it up
," she said.  "It's a bridesmaids dress, it's already paid for, the alterations are already done.  I have to make it to the rehearsal dinner in a half hour."  She steeled herself, then sighed, "
Please
."

Mary stepped aside, ushering he
r in and locking the door after her.

"Sure. Here, do you have your ticket?
  Let me just… ah.  It's right over here.  Do you, um… do you want to try it on, before you—"

"No."

"Okay."

She sorted through a rack of dresses, checking their tags quickly before finding the dress, pre-paid and altered, just as described.
  She offered the hanger in one hand, carefully draping it over her other arm.

"It's beautiful, that
's one of our most popular styles.  You're wearing it in a wedding?"

"Tomorrow," she muttered, fishing for her keys.

"Oh, I didn't… Kai didn't mention that you were in a wedding."  And receiving a cold look in return, she said, "I mean, I think it's sweet.  The two of you at a wedding would be cute."

Crystal snapped her purse closed, letting the sheathed dress sag from the hook of two fingers.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

Mary shied, folding her
arms across her stomach.

"No, I-I mean it.
  You and Kai—"

"--aren't together anymore."

"Oh.  I'm sorry, I had no idea.  When did he… did you—"

"He broke up with me last week.
  A week before Valentine's Day.  Your friend is a real piece of work."

She shook her head, eyelashes fluttering.

"I… I'm sorry, I really didn't know.  Normally… well, I thought he would have said something.  I mean, we talk on the train every day."

It
was clear from Crystal's face that she hadn't known about their daily commutes, news that no doubt cemented whatever crudely consoling assumptions she'd been making about Kai.  Mary flagged, "It wasn't what you think.  It's just convenient.  We just happen to catch the same train in and out of the city."

Crystal flared in disgust, reeling away.

"Spare me," she jerked at the door, and Mary hurried forward, fumbling the lock back open.

"Crystal, honestly… I know you've neve
r had the best opinion of me, but I swear.  We just keep each other company on the ride into work."

"Kai hasn't worked in the city for four months.
  Try that line on whatever bimbo he hooks up with next."

Mary stood mute as she thre
w the door open and stalked out into the street, heels clicking smartly on concrete.  Her hands felt numb, her heart thick and heavy in her chest.

Why would he lie?

The train was conspicuously empty the next morning, at least of familiar faces.
  Mary took a seat by herself, thumbing Kai's number into her phone, and waited through each pulsing ring.

No answer, no voicemail.
  He never saw the point.

She vowed to try again throughout the day, but opportunities were few.
  Six brides required well more than an hour apiece, a parade of voluminous white gowns and stiff underskirts, corsets and laces and pins and measuring tape.  Even between Stella and Mary there were barely enough hands to keep the shop floor free of discarded gowns.

The brides too demanded a special temperament, indulgent and generous.
  They needed to be told how beautiful they looked, how elegant and sweet.  They all needed to hear how breathtakingly large their diamonds were, and how they didn't look at all fat, and how they'd be sure to lose those 30 pounds by October.

 
          She persevered as she always did: smiling and patient, moving invisibly about their hips and waists, manipulating the silk to fall in great, flattering drapes.  One of the girls received an elaborate bouquet of red American Beauties, swathed in white tissue paper and bristling with white baby's breath, a delivery that required an excessive amount of fuss and flattery.

By five o'clock she was ready to strangle anything in taffeta.

She retired to the stock room, fumbling with her cell phone, and tried Kai's phone again.  Five rings, then nothing.  It was the same story all day long.

Stella fought her way through the door with an armful of Vera Wang, and Mary pocketed the phone, stepping forward to help her.

"Still can't get ahold of your friend?" she said breathlessly.  Together they maneuvered the dress onto a hook, fixing the plastic sheeting protectively overtop.

"No. I'm really worried about him."

"You know men.  He's probably in a bar somewhere, drowning his troubles over this girl."

"You don't know Ka
i."

"Come on, this lady wants to see the Peter
Langner gown, and then a couple of the bridesmaids dresses.  Her color is
puce
."

"Fabulous," Mary tucked her hands into the pockets of her sweater.

They filed back out into the main salon, their last customer already posed on the modeling dais in a full Versace gown, turning a few inches from side to side to admire her profile.

"I think it makes me look
hippy
," she complained to her mother.

"It doesn't
make you look hippy, you look beautiful.  No other bride ever looked so pretty in that dress.  You
make
that dress."

"I want to try the
Langner."

"Then you'll try the
Langner.  This is your day, Cecilia."

Mary helped Stella move the requested gown from one of the rear racks, removing it from its waterfall of clear plastic.
  She smiled tiredly at the bride, "I like that one on you, I think it's sweet."

"I want to try the
Langner," she said.

Somewhere behind the cacophony of rustling silk and plastic, brass bells jingled.