Fire Down Below (23 page)

On the morning
of my
thirty-fifth birthday I make a command decision. I decide to purchase the
necklace that matches my earrings from Jane Moon.  Who cares if it costs a
fortune? Who cares if it’s more than my mortgage payment? I’m worth it. It’ll
be my birthday gift to myself. In a way that necklace has become a symbol for
me. I may not have exactly the life I thought I would, but I still have a good
life, good enough to allow myself an extravagance if I want one. Plus I’ll wear
it to my party tonight and it’ll look beautiful with my dress and the matching
earrings.

My birthday happens to fall on a
Saturday this year, though my party doesn’t start until six o’clock tonight.
I’m expected at my parent’s house first and then Ben said he wanted to take me
out for lunch downtown.

Suzy and Lauren already called with
Happy Birthday wishes, both of them asking how I’m doing, a slight tinge of
worry in their voices, since I’m the first of us to experience the ancient age
of thirty-five. I assured them that I’m fine and it’s not as bad as it sounds.
They both seem relieved. Suzy doesn’t turn thirty-five until next year and
Lauren still has two years to go, so I’m the guinea pig of our group. When Declan
calls he does the same thing he did last year. He sings Happy Birthday to me in
Irish.

“Very impressive,” I say when he’s
finished. “But how do I know that’s really Irish? Maybe you made it all up.”

“I guess you’ll have to take my
word for it.”

“Now that I think about it, how do
I know this whole Irish thing isn’t made up? It could be a ruse to meet women.
You probably grew up in Nebraska.”

 “You found me out little lady,”
Declan says, twanging his voice, although it sounds more like his nose is
stuffed. “I’m nothin’ but a Nebraska cowboy. More than anything I enjoy riding mah’
horse and shooting mah’ pistol.”

I laugh as I picture Declan wearing
a cowboy hat, fumbling with a horse and pistol. The image is more than comical.
“Hmm, you must be who you say you are. Nobody could fake an accent that bad.”

“Hey, I take offense to that. I think
my cowboy accent is fairly good.”

“It might fly over there in
Ireland,
but trust me, you’re not fooling anybody here.”

“Shows how much you know. So how
is the birthday girl today? You sound as full of piss and vinegar as ever.”

“Ha.”

“Thirty-five isn’t so bad. It
could be worse.”

“Yeah right. Someone at work yesterday
told me that I look young for my age. Isn’t that sad? I’m so old that the best
compliment people feel they can give me is to tell me I look young.”

“But you do look young.”

“Don’t say that!” I moan.

“All right,” Declan says, “I won’t
say another word. Women are impossible. It’s like you get insulted no matter
what. Even if I’m saying you look good it’s considered an insult.”

“That’s because we know how to
read between the lines. When someone says a woman looks young for her age, what
they’re really saying is it’d be better if she
were
young.”

“You really are taking this birthday
hard, aren’t you?”

I sigh. “I just have this strange feeling
that my shelf life is nearing its expiration date.”

“Listen, you can’t let other
people’s expectations determine how you feel about yourself.”

“I know. You’re right. It’s not
easy swimming against the current though. Let’s change the subject. Are you
coming to my party tonight?”

“Of course. It’s okay if I bring
my cousin Paul, right? He flew in a couple days ago and I haven’t been able to
spend much time with him. He still has jet lag, but I’m sure he’ll enjoy your dinner.”

“Sure, bring him. The more the
merrier.”

We talk a little more about how
Declan and Sev have signed on three more clients. Apparently their start-up is
doing well and they’re planning to hire a couple more software engineers to
help with the workload. I’m really pleased for him. It’s inspiring to see
someone live their dreams, especially when they’re successful.

After the call from Declan, I head
on over to my parent’s house. Lauren convinced them to drop by tonight for a
little while, but I know they prefer to give me my gift and ply me with cake at
home. My mom likes parties, but my dad usually prefers quiet evenings with
fewer people.

I park behind another car in their
driveway that I recognize as belonging to a couple of their best friends, Marcia
and Bill Goodman, whom they’ve known since before I was born. I can hear them
talking excitedly when I walk into the house and at first I’m confused thinking
it’s about my birthday, but when I find them in the kitchen they’re pouring
over maps spread out on the table.

I stand there for a few seconds
before my dad finally notices me.

“Hey kiddo!” he says, coming over.

“What’s going on?”

Everyone looks up. My mom, Marcia,
and Bill are all grinning, holding glasses of wine. My parents are drinking
wine at eleven o’clock in the morning?

“We’ve been invited on a cruise to
Greece!” my dad tells me. “Bill has managed to get us space on a two-week tour.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Bill says,
speaking to everyone and waving around his glass. “This cruise has been booked
for months, but a couple of days ago we discovered there were cancellations and
our names were at the top of the waiting list.”

My dad tells me the tour is being
led by a top archeologist in Greece and that they’ll be going to an actual dig
site. Since his retirement my dad has gotten more interested in both ancient
history and archaeology, and being his family originally came from Greece, he’s
taken a particular interest in that area.

He pulls me over to the table and
points out all the places they’ll be traveling. “It’s a terrific opportunity,”
my dad continues. “The dig is on Crete and as you know that’s where our family
comes from!” He beams at me.

“Here, sit down,” Marcia says,
scooting over to make room for me at the table. “Your mother and I were just
talking about you. Happy Birthday!”

“Oh gosh, that’s right—Happy
Birthday!” My dad gives me a big hug. My mom gets up and gives me another hug
and I smile at everyone, feeling like a five year old again, though not in a
bad way.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” My
mom asks.

“No thanks.” My feelings of being five
quickly evaporate. Judging by the glow in everyone’s eyes I’m guessing they’ve
all had at least a couple glasses already. “So when is the cruise?” I ask
sitting down next to Marcia.

The room grows quiet.

“Well, that’s the thing,” my dad
says uneasily. “We wanted to talk to you about that. It turns out, and it’s the
craziest thing, but we’d have to been gone for the holidays.”

Picking up a croissant from a
plate that has a few pastries on it, my stomach reminds me that I haven’t even
had breakfast yet. “The holidays?” I ask, taking a bite.

“Christmas,” my mom says quietly.

It all makes sense now. She’s
saying I’d have to be alone for Christmas. That’s why my dad is so
uncomfortable, and that’s why the room has grown silent again as all eyes are
on me, measuring my reaction. I feel like a freak. A thirty-five year old woman
who doesn’t have a family of her own and has to spend Christmas every year with
her mommy and daddy. Marcia and Bill have four daughters, all of them younger
than me, and all of them married with kids. They have half a dozen
grandchildren, and whenever I see Marcia she’s pulling out a new baby photo,
showing me their most recent addition. How did I get into this situation? This
is not the life I envisioned for myself when I was a little girl growing up. To
my horror I can sense tears threatening to fill my eyes.

I swallow my bite of croissant,
aware that I’m taking too long to respond. “It’s fine,” I say, trying to sound
casual. “I’ll spend it with Ben and his family. No biggie.”

My mom is studying me and I know
she can see the lie. She knows it’s not fine, but she also knows that I would
never deny my dad a once in a lifetime opportunity.

“I could stay home,” she says. “I
don’t really have to go to Greece.”

“No! Don’t do that. I want you to
go. You guys will have a great time.” And I know they will. My mom may not be
into history or archeology like my father, but she loves to travel and is quite
adventuress. “It’s really okay. Ben and I were talking about skiing at Whistler
around the holidays and I’m sure it’ll be fine if I stay with him and his
family for Christmas.”

So there, see? I’m not a loser
after all. I am, at least, in a serious relationship. Ben and I have been
dating for almost five months now.

“Hey,” Marcia leans into me. “I
hear you’re having a big birthday dinner tonight. That sounds wonderful.”

I smile and tell her how nice it
was of Lauren and Suzy to throw it for me, and how they’ll be friends there I
haven’t seen in ages. My dad gets my birthday present, which turns out to be
the latest edition of Photoshop—exactly what I wanted. I thought I’d play
around with it using some of the photos I’ve been taking with my camera. Thank
you, I tell them both. It’s the perfect gift. My mom brings out the birthday
cake she got for me at Bellini’s Bakery. The same German chocolate cake I’ve
been having on my birthday since I was a kid. She cuts everyone a slice and as
we’re eating, they all go back to talking about their trip. My mom and Marcia debate
whether they should take a class to learn some Greek, while my dad and Bill
talk about the different Islands they’ll be traveling to.

I sit there and smile, nodding
politely, but inside I feel awful and in truth I can’t wait to leave.

***

Needless to say I have quite a
dark cloud hanging over me by the time I meet with Ben. He’s in something of a
mood himself and between both our dark clouds we’re practically snarling at
each other. He keeps criticizing my driving, telling me I’m driving too slow, but
I know this neighborhood and there are always police handing out tickets.

“You’d
know
that if you
lived here,” I say pointedly.

When we get on the freeway he tells
me I’m driving too close to the car in front of me. I was close for about five
seconds while I was changing lanes, I inform him, but that’s it. He complains about
it anyway, telling me how legally I’m supposed to leave a three car gap and
that he notices I never do that. I finally point out that it’s my birthday and—could
you please stop lecturing me? That shuts him up for a few guilty minutes, until
we get downtown and are looking for a parking space.

“You’re never going to find a spot
this close to the Market,” he complains. “You should pull into a garage and
pay.”

“No, I have good parking karma. I
never use a garage.”

“I know, but it’s Saturday and
packed with tourists.”

“I always find a spot,” I say
stubbornly, circling the block for the third time.

Ben doesn’t say anything, just sits
there silently fuming. I’m determined to find a space on the street. I figure
the universe owes me that much. When I drive down 1
^st
Avenue for the
sixth time Ben starts ranting.

“This is ridiculous—do you want to
spend all afternoon circling the block? Just pull into a garage!”

“No,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I’m going to find a spot.”

I know this has gotten absurd and
that I should admit defeat and pay for garage parking, but I can’t do it. I’m
on a mission now. A quest. It’s my birthday and I’m going to find the most
perfect fucking parking spot if it’s the last thing I do. I don’t care if I’m
still out here at midnight. I don’t care if my car runs out of gas and I have
to get out and push it down the street. 

When I swing down the block for
the eighth time Ben is having a nervous breakdown and even reaches over to take
the steering wheel from me.

“Let go!” I shriek.

“Right there! Look, there’s a
garage with a Free Space sign. Just pull in. You’re never going to find a spot
on the street!”

“
YES. I. AM.
”

By the time I begin my tenth
circle the veins in his forehead are popping out and he has a crazed look in
his eyes. I think he’s going to physically remove me from the driver’s seat.

And then when all hope seems lost the
miracle happens.

A car pulls out from a parking space
right in front of me—and not any old space either. This space is directly in
front of Pike’s Place Market—a space so rare, so difficult to obtain, that it’d
be easier finding a Unified Field Theory or proof of alien intelligence. I can
count the number of times on one hand that I’ve ever gotten one of these primo
spaces. Even Ben is stunned into silence.

  I slide my car easily into the
spot and then turn to him with a smile. “See, I told you I have good parking
karma.”

He stares at me.

Once we’re out of the car, he calms
down and asks me where I’d like to go for lunch. I tell him about Jane Moon and
the necklace that I’m going to buy myself as a birthday present, and that I’d
like to go there first.

“You’re buying yourself a birthday
present?”

 “That’s right.”

He looks uneasy. “Maybe I should
get it for you? You shouldn’t have to buy your own birthday present.”

“No, I want to do this myself.
Besides it’s expensive.”

He shrugs. “How expensive are we
talking?”

“
Very
expensive, but don’t
worry. Like I said, this is a gift to myself.”

Ben doesn’t seem entirely
convinced, but we head down to Jane Moon’s anyway, with me leading the way. The
Market smells like fish as usual, but there’s also a mishmash of other smells—vanilla,
patchouli, fresh cut flowers. There are a lot of people shopping, so we have to
wind our way through the crowd. When we finally get to Jane Moon’s I’m excited.
What an indulgence, finally getting myself this gorgeous ruby necklace. I can’t
wait to put it on. It’s like a defining moment—buying myself a piece of signature
jewelry.

Jane Moon’s is busier than usual
and when I finagle my way to the front of the display case I don’t see my
necklace anywhere.

“Hi,” I say to the girl behind the
front counter, who nods at me in recognition. “I’m looking for that Egyptian
necklace with the rubies. It’s usually on display in the corner case.”

“It’s not there?”

“I don’t see it.”

She walks over and takes a look,
nodding her head. “Jane must have taken it out for cleaning,” she says. “It’s
probably in back. Let me check for you.”

“I plan to buy it. So go ahead and
wrap it up.”

“Good for you!” She smiles. “It’s
a beautiful piece. I know you’ve been admiring it for ages. Jane will be so
pleased to hear that you’ll be its new owner.”

I smile back. I’ve met Jane a few times.
She’s nice, if not a little eccentric, though that’s hardly surprising for an
artist.

  Ben comes over and I explain
that they’re bringing the necklace out from the back where it’s being cleaned.

“Wow, there’s some really crazy
prices in here. There are some earrings over there that cost five hundred
dollars. They’re not even diamonds or anything. And there’s a necklace that’s
almost two grand. Is that how much you’re paying for yours?”

 “Something like that,” I say
noncommittally.

“Don’t you think that’s too
expensive?”

“No, I don’t. You wouldn’t blink
an eye at spending that kind of money on mountain climbing gear or snowboarding
equipment would you?”

“Well, no...but that’s different.”

“Why is it different?”

He laughs. “Because this is just a
little trinket to hang around your neck. Climbing gear is rugged and lasts for
years, plus I use it constantly, the same with snowboarding. I’ve had the same
board for three years and I’m out there every weekend during the winter.”

“I plan to wear this necklace for
years to come. I’ll probably own it for the rest of my life. Doesn’t that make
it worth the price?”

“Come on, Kate. You’ll wear it a
couple of times then throw it in a drawer and forget all about it. I know how
you are.”

“That’s not true!”

I can’t believe he’s so insulting
and I’m ready to tell him how wrong he is, when the salesgirl comes up to us.
She has an apologetic expression on her face which I assume is because it’s
taking so long, but instead she tells me they no longer have the necklace.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m so sorry. But apparently
we’ve sold that piece.”

I stare at her in shock. “How is
that possible?” Though I know exactly how it’s possible. I never should have
waited. I should have bought that necklace ages ago.

“Apparently it’s been a while
since it sold. I could show you some other pieces we have that are similar if
you’re interested. They’re really quite lovely.”

“No.” I shake my head. “That’s all
right. Maybe some other time.”

 She nods sympathetically. “I
understand.”

Ben and I walk out into the crowd,
him leading the way this time. I feel completely deflated. It’s my birthday and,
except for that glorious parking spot, nothing is going right. And now I find
out that someone else is going to be wearing my necklace. I know it’s silly and
materialistic to be upset about a piece of jewelry, but I can’t help it.

When we get back out onto the
cobblestoned street in front of the Market, Ben asks me how I’m doing.

“I’m really bummed,” I say, tears
once again threatening to fill my eyes. Some birthday—I’ve already almost cried
twice.

“There are other jewelry stores.
We can get you a necklace somewhere else if that’s what you really want.”

I shake my head. “It wouldn’t be
the same.”

He studies me and I know he
doesn’t understand. One necklace is like any other to him. What’s all the fuss
about? I can tell that’s what he’s thinking. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get
me
.
And then suddenly I have this flashback from years ago, driving in Ben’s car, where
I felt exactly as I do now, where I knew with absolute certainty that he
doesn’t get me and that he never will. It’s like I’m caught in some sort of
endless cycle. The Hindu Wheel of Life, re-living the same mistakes over and
over again trying to learn.  

Ben looks over my shoulder.  “Hey,
I just remembered there’s a juice bar down the street from here. Let’s go get
some wheat grass juice.”

“I don’t want to drink wheat grass
juice.”

“Come on, it’s good for you.”

He takes my hand, such a rare
thing for him to do in public, that I allow him to lead me down the street. We
walk down the block searching for the juice bar. Once we find it, he orders juice
from some purple-haired girl while I wander over and sit at one of the empty tables.
He comes back carrying two large shot glasses.

“Here you go.” He hands me a glass
of what looks like green blood.

I take a sip and, of course, it’s
awful. It tastes exactly like what you’d expect juice made from lawn clippings
would taste like. I put the glass down. Ben is suddenly in much better spirits
then he was earlier.

“I’m so glad I remembered this
place,” he says cheerfully. He’s already downed half of his shot glass. “I
haven’t had wheat grass in ages. This stuff is like rocket fuel. Wait until you
see how amazing you feel after drinking it.”

I nod, glancing around the shop
we’re sitting in. The girl behind the counter keeps smiling over at Ben. When
she notices me watching though she quickly looks away.  

I think about how awful I felt at
my parent’s house earlier, everyone’s awkwardness about my being left alone at
Christmas. I wonder if my parents are sad that I haven’t gotten married and
that’s why my mom won’t stop talking about sperm donors. Maybe they’re afraid
I’ll wind up a lonely old spinster, talking to the television all day, complaining
about my bunions as I drink endless cups of coffee. I’ve never regretted the
decisions I’ve made with my life before, but now I don’t know.

Ben finishes the last dregs of
juice and puts his glass down, motioning for me to finish mine.

I study him, wondering what I’d do
if he asked me to marry him again—would I say yes this time? Probably. Okay,
I’d definitely say yes. I know we have our problems, but who knew that this is
as good as a relationship gets? If only I’d known it back then. I could have
married him and saved myself years of dating agony.

“Are you okay?” Ben asks. “You
look miserable and you’re not drinking your wheat grass.”

“Would it be all right if I spent
Christmas with you?”

He pauses for a second. If I
didn’t know better I’d say there’s a flash of guilt on his face, though I must
be imagining it. “Of course, what’s up?”

I tell him about my parent’s
cruise to Greece.

“Of course you can spend it with
us. Actually my mom’s been bugging me to bring you over for dinner, so I’m sure
she’ll be happy to have you with us for Christmas.”

I nod silently. Ben’s mother. A
bullet I’ve managed to dodge so far. I saw her once when we stopped by his
parent’s house and I could tell the assessment was underway, checking me out
from head to toe, trying to decide whether I measured up to her arbitrary
standards. Surprisingly she wasn’t as rude as she used to be. I guess she’s toning
it down in case I do wind up as her daughter-in-law. It could happen, because
despite everything, Ben and I have been getting along a lot better since that
camping trip last month when we finally cleared the air. We still have our
arguments—obviously today is a good example of that—but we’re both really trying
and more than ever I’m convinced that fate has brought us together again for a
reason.