What a Girl Needs (3 page)

It also doesn’t help that my sister-in-law Emily is pregnant. Not married or in a serious relationship, but pregnant. Mrs.-Novak-the-First thinks this is appalling behavior, but rather than say so, she focuses on the fact that I’m
not
pregnant rather than find any error with her own offspring. Kevin, bless his heart, tries to maintain the peace between the women he loves.

“Don’t take it personally, Ash,” he tells me. “My mom’s just upset about my sister and doesn’t know how to deal with it. This vacation is for you, and I really put thought into this gift—I know you were disappointed with the silver toilet brush.”

Well, that’s good.
Progress
. It seems obvious though, doesn’t it? Toilet brush equals unacceptable gift.

“If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to, but you need to find your focus again. I think California and your family and friends can help with that.” He meets my gaze with those devastating eyes of his. “I miss your sparkle.”

I’m still on his mother’s comment. “So it’s acceptable that your mother compares my girl parts to dried-up fruit because your sister’s pregnant?”

“Of course it’s not,” Kevin says, dropping his head in his hands. “But if I tell her it bothers you, she’ll only find a way to say it differently. You
know
my mother. That’s why we live three states away.” Kevin reaches over the table and kisses me on the forehead. I temporarily forget about his mother and the future. “We’ll have a baby when we’re ready to have a baby. For now, go enjoy yourself back home.”

Home?
Before this
romantic
anniversary dinner—a mere hour ago—I thought “home” was wherever Kevin would be. My thoughts are swirling too fast.
Deep breaths
. I tilt my chin and look straight into Kevin’s eyes.

“Will you eat while I’m gone?” My voice is robotic because I’m calculating how much this trip cost us, and how the forthcoming bill will probably serve to remind me how useless I feel without a job. “If your mother comes, she’s going to yell at me for not feeding you.”

“I’ll eat.”

And there it is. Before we even order drinks in our fancy Italian wine cellar, I’ve been sent off alone on a mystery trip just like the Railway children. Happy anniversary to me.

He takes my hand and folds it into his own. “The next move will be permanent, Ashley. Then, you can go back to your work. I’m so sorry I brought you along on this roller coaster ride. I’ve been very selfish.”

“I’m not sorry.” I reach over to touch his jaw, and as he comes closer I inhale deeply.
I’m too reliant on him. He feels it, and the pressure will break us. I need work. I need a purpose that isn’t an unhealthy attachment to my husband, who doesn’t really need me. I’m just a nicer diversion.
I inhale again. Deeper this time.

He pulls away. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to forget what you smell like when I leave. It’s the most powerful memory-inducer, you know.”

“Ashley, you sound like a dog sniffing my ear. Would you cut that out?” He’s shooing me as the waiter comes to take our orders.

“This is a first. A one-way trip alone for my anniversary. You know, a lot of
Dateline
shows begin like this.”

“It’s not one-way.” He raises his brow. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

I smirk.

“Ash, you’ll be back in two weeks, and by then I should know if we’re staying in Philadelphia. We’ll have a decision to make. This vacation is nothing to get dramatic about.”

“Uh, have we met? I get dramatic about everything. And you’ll forgive me if I mention that giving a single ticket vacation to your wife is not exactly the pinnacle of romance.” I pause. “But it is better than a silver toilet brush.”

“See? I’m improving with time – like a fine wine.”

“Two weeks, you say?” I stare at the ticket again, calculating what I’ll do for two weeks. I still won’t have a job in California, and my dad will be over my visit in about two hours. “Any idea where we might live permanently yet? You have to have some idea. Which programs have you looked at seriously?”

“We’ll have to discuss it, but if I can’t get back to Stanford or UCSF, where I know you’d prefer, and if Philly doesn’t want me, Atlanta might be the best place for us.”

My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Atlanta!” I guzzle the water that’s set before me. “It may have escaped your attention, but your mother lives in Atlanta. And didn’t you just get through telling me why we lived three states away from her?”

“Atlanta is a nice place to raise a family.”

Correction. It would be a nice place to raise a family if the mother-in-law from the dark side didn’t reside there. With her little minion, Emily. And soon, a minionette in the form of a grandchild.

“I know it’s a nice place to raise a family,” I tell Kevin. “Luckily, your sister seems to be taking care of that and your mother will have a grandchild close by.” I clamp my teeth over my bottom lip. This is not how I want my husband to remember me while I’m gone. I want there to be longing—gnashing of teeth while he waits for me to return and all that. But Atlanta?

“It’s nothing tangible yet. Go enjoy your vacation.”

“It’s just—I never knew it was a consideration.” First he says, we have a decision to make, then I hear the word
, Atlanta.
My trust issues are coming out to play.

“It might not be from the look on your face.” Kevin cups my jaw with his hands and kisses me deeply over the table, which sends our waiter with our iced tea right back where he came from. “Stop worrying, Ashley. Go engage your mind in Silicon Valley. You’ll come back to me with all the latest and I’ll see that spark in your eye again.”

Not if he mentions Atlanta again, he won’t. He’ll see sparks all right, but they won’t be in my eyes.

As I gaze at the ticket, I can’t help but wonder what his mother will say to this. Kevin sending me away for our anniversary—allowing my eggs to shrivel further while Princess Emily can have a baby all on her own.

“Besides, Kay needs you there,” Kevin says about my old roommate. “She says she has a big decision to make and she needs you there for it.”

“Well, if Kay needs me…” I let my voice trail off. It would be good to feel useful again.

Maybe Kevin wants to send me back to “The Reasons”—which is what I called my singles’ group—as in “we all had our reasons we weren’t married.” This way I might find the “reason” for my discontent in Philly. Though the weather, my lack of interesting work, and a schlumpy house might have something to do with it. I’ve clearly got as many Reasons as I started with before marriage—now I just have another half named Kevin.

‡

W
ednesday arrives like
an unwelcome Visa bill—too quickly and it includes a whole bunch of details that I’d forgotten. As Kevin drives me to the airport, I start to panic about his future job offers for his next fellowship. A specialty like his requires years and years of study. I worry that my future may be decided for me before I return and any work I do to plan the next stage of my career may be pointless.

Selfish. But still true.

“What do you think about Jersey?” I ask Kevin, as we set out on the turnpike.

He turns toward me, shakes his head and focuses again on the road. “New Jersey?”

“Yeah. We just take the Ben Franklin Bridge and we’re home, so it wouldn’t be a hard move. There must be children’s hospitals in Jersey. I mean, look at all those kids on the
Real Housewives
. Kids equal children’s hospitals, right?”

“It doesn’t work quite like that. South Jersey is a far cry from North Jersey – I don’t think you want to live with the cows, Ashley.”

“Do they have a Wawa?” I sigh dreamily. “I do love a Wawa,” I say about my cheaper version of Starbucks, which I’ve grown to love after living on one salary.

He cocks his eyebrow. “Trust me, I’m going to do a lot of research before we consider moving for the fellowship, and that research won’t include anecdotes, or offspring from the
Real Housewives
.”

“I could totally handle living in a place where sparkly, blingy clothing and animal prints are perfectly acceptable. I think people bold enough to wear sequins are happier, but that’s just me.”

Kevin grimaces. “Yeah. That’s not going to happen. The last thing your wardrobe needs to do is grab more attention.”

I stare out the window and sigh deeply. I feel like a dog being taken to the vet when it actually thinks it’s going to the beach.
Yes, I get that I’m actually going to the beach in California, but that’s hardly the point here.

“Kevin, you make it sound like I have tacky taste. I
don’t
have tacky taste, but mark my words, women who shun the sequin are less happy. There has to be a study somewhere.”

“Yeah. Probably in Jersey, sponsored by the Bedazzled Company.”

I laugh. “Kevin made a funny! And you know what a Bedazzler is. I’m totally impressed.”

“Some days, I cannot believe you got through law school.”

“Magna cum laude, baby!” Granted. Maybe I was better at school than actual life, but I’m grabbing at straws here.

“You need meaningful work, Ashley.” He taps the steering wheel nervously. “If you’re still obsessing about us moving to Atlanta, what more can I tell you? You have my word that we’re not moving to Atlanta. We’re not going anywhere until you decide what’s going to happen with you next. It’s your turn, Ashley.”

“Well, that came out of nowhere. Is that your way of telling me to get a job?”

“What?” Kevin slaps the steering wheel. “No! Are we having the same conversation?”

I can’t let up. A surprise vacation…a surprise anything isn’t like my husband. I’m right to be suspicious. “We’re going to Atlanta aren’t we? That’s what this is all about. You need further training, and Atlanta is in my future.” I’m mentally preparing myself for southern belles and laser-focused subtext. I can already hear,
bless your heart…

“We could stay in Philly for it. You can pass the bar here if that’s what you want. I just need you to know what you want, without my influence.”

“Right. So you’re sending me away to solve the great mysteries of the universe.”

“This is a vacation for you, Ash, but our future is about
us
. I’m not making any decisions without you. I made that mistake once and I’ve anguished over it ever since.”

Every time he says something like that, I hear that he’s regretted marrying me. I’m sure he doesn’t mean it that way, but it doesn’t prevent my mind from going to all sorts of dark places. I mean, I should have a life by now. I’ve been in Philadelphia for nearly two years. When did I become a sloth?

“I went from being a cheetah to a sloth,” I muse.

“What? Ashley, what goes on in that head of yours? You didn’t try to pass the bar here because we were getting settled, and you knew we probably weren’t staying. There’s no shame in that.”

“So why do I feel it? Like I’ve been wasting the precious time God gave me.”

“You know what Albert Einstein says about inertia…”

“I totally don’t.” I shrug. “Should I? Because they don’t teach that in law school.”

“Einstein said, ‘Nothing happens until something moves.’ I’m just giving you the push you need to get moving again because I feel like my precious Ashley is slipping away from me.”

This should give me comfort. He’s giving me a little push—but seriously, all the way to California? “You think I knew that we were leaving Philadelphia? I’m psychic now? Because if this were true, I would definitely not have coats in my closet to last me into the next millennium.”

“Nothing has seemed to work out for you here, and as your husband, I have to take that as a sign. I want the woman I married back.”

“A sign? Kevin, if I didn’t have bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all. This has nothing to do with Philly. I simply don’t know what my purpose is since I’ve left patent law.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have left it,” he says plainly.

The practical reality is my patent certification works anywhere in the United States. The reality is, no state outside California will hire me to do patent work until I pass their individual state bar or it’s a state where California’s bar is transferrable.
Catch-22
. The mantra of my life.

“What about when you volunteered at the Career Closet? I thought clothes, people who are less fortunate, you’d forget about the law for a while, but it didn’t work out.”

I see disappointment etched on his handsome face; the realization that I am not his mother, nor will I be leading Junior League committees anytime in the near future.

My casual stroll into philanthropy lasted a month. The Greater Philadelphia Career Closet asked me to step down for refusing polyester blend suits from donors. These women, many of them single moms who hadn’t worked in years, were trying to get back on their feet. Someone expects them to do that in puckering polyester? (FYI, the answer to that question is yes.
Go figure
.)

Long story, short: I was fired from volunteering, but not before I donated all of the silk and wool suits I could spare.

“That was not my fault!” I pull my attention from Kevin, cross my arms and stare out the side window. “Those women needed to feel good about themselves, and they were taking crap clothes. How is a woman supposed to feel human in a polyester suit, much less have the confidence to go out and land a job?” Suddenly I’m choked up. “Poor women left there looking like they were extras on
The
Mary Tyler Moore Show
. That’s just not right. I had a moral obligation to those women. They would have been better off selling that garbage and buying them some nice, fashionable things at Target. That’s all I tried to say.”