What a Girl Wants (27 page)

“How was your date last night?” Dianna wiggles her eyebrows as though I’m going to share some intimate detail of my date with her. If I had an intimate detail, maybe I would. “Saw his Porsche. Very impressive. Where’d he take you?’

“Some little French place in Palo Alto.”

“Not L’aime Donia,” she says in perfect French accent. “I love that place.”

Knock me over, but I’m surprised she’s been there. She doesn’t strike me as the French restaurant type. I’m beginning to notice there’s a lot I don’t understand about Dianna.

“It was nice,” I say with no inflection.

“You know, Ashley, you’re smart enough where you don’t need a rich guy.”

I’m struck. Since when am I marrying for money? When am I marrying for anything is the topical question.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she continues. “I’m no one to give advice, but you know, I’m the best one to give advice. I’ll never let a man control me again. I control them.” She winks, and takes off for her desk, where another admin is waiting to talk to her.

Is it controlling a man to let them look down your shirt? Maybe it is, but it’s reminiscent of Jezebel and I’m going more for the Esther or Ruth essence. But not the Virgin Mary. I’ve done that for thirty-one years. I want a husband and I want him now! This morning I don’t really care if it’s Kevin or Seth. Someone just has to make a move and I’m down that aisle, baby. Okay, maybe I’m not that desperate. But I’m close.

Purvi shoves a few last minute documents in my briefcase and bids me adieu. “This is big,” she reminds me. “Those royalties are keeping our stock price high. We lose them and stockholders, and our board is going to be looking directly at the patent department.”

I salute her. “I can handle it.”

“You get the next trip to Seattle. I promise.”

I just nod. If there’s one thing I know, Purvi will make this worth my while. Getting a patent for the company, I get $1000 bonus every time. Defending a patent with a stream of royalties? I’m going to Hawaii baby! I’ll get my facial there. I’m going to learn to relax if it kills me.

Driving up to the city, there is no traffic. Leave it to me to find the one day the 101 to San Francisco has no traffic. Remember that movie of the week, The Day After? That’s what the freeway looks like, so I have clear sailing to the airport and my date with destiny on the one day I’d much rather be late.

You know, I need an attitude adjustment. Dan Hollings might be perfectly dashing by now and my attitude could be ruining it for me. Reboot. I must reboot. He’s no longer a cheerleader stalker. He’s a successful businessman in the Bay Area. He has call for-warding to his cell phone, for heaven’s sake. That shows a little initiative anyway.
Okay, Lord, I’m putting this in Your hands. This is
Your plan for my life today. I accept it, I embrace it. I will represent
You today to Dan Hollings.

I’m an hour early to the airport. All I need. More waiting. But I check in at the curb and hand over my luggage, which has now been packed for nearly a full week with everything I own that I have access to.

It doesn’t matter what time of day you’re at SFO, it’s packed. The new glass walls make the people seem so small, like bustling ants each going in a different direction. I thrust myself into the flow and head to the international terminal with all the other Valley drones and tourists.

I decide to download e-mail on my PDA and check it while I wait for Dan. I’m waiting for Dan Hollings. If that doesn’t give an accurate picture of my love life, I don’t know what does. As I look across the grand hall towards the Japanese restaurant, Dan is there waiting. He waves like I’ve come all the way across the country to see him. He hasn’t changed a bit. And this is not a good thing.

He’s got the same wiry, dark curly hair, and scruffy, uneven beard. Yes, he had a beard in high school. Not a good look in the ’80s when mousse was making its debut.

Pasty.
That’s the best word I can think of to describe him. Although his hair is dark and thick, his sallow skin is colorless except for some remaining pockmarks. But it’s not his looks that throw me; I’m not that shallow. It’s this sticky oozy feeling he gives off. Like that awful ringditcher on my last trip to Taiwan. I can’t explain it, but I feel defiled being around him.

“Ashley!” he says, coming towards me for a hug.

Enveloped, I answer against his shoulder. “Dan, so good to see you.”

“I see we’re both early,” he says.

“Uh huh, so we are. What a coincidence.”

“Well, sit down. I’ve already gotten us a table. Let me catch you up on myself.” I sit down and Dan removes his files, phone, and briefcase from the table.

“Looks like your office.”

“Everywhere’s my office these days.”

“So what have you been up to?” I say enthusiastically, remembering my promise to the Mighty One.

“I’m a CFO for a small startup.”

Small startup. Is there another kind of startup? “What do they do at your startup?”

“Business application.”

Ah, nothing. No real product
. “Do you have any critical patents?” I ask.

“That’s right, you’re a patent attorney. We have a few.”

“Pending or granted?”

He looks upset. “In process.” Okay, no product, no patents. This means he has a job for six months at best. But I’m not on a job interview, I’m on a date. Act accordingly.

“I bet it’s fun being in a startup.”
If you like not knowing where
your next paycheck is coming from.

“Oh, yeah. Lots of perks, my own hours, granted they’re in the eighteen-hour-a-day range, but it’s starting to happen.”

I want to ask him how many stock options he took in lieu of salary, but I can tell by his bravado it was a lot.

“Let me order us some drinks.” He lifts up his arm, and nods at the waitress. She’s a petite Asian gal who blends the right amount of smile with standoffishness.

“Can I get you started with some drinks?” she asks.

“Diet Coke would be great,” I say, before Dan has the chance to order for me. Just by his open mouth, I can see he’s the type to do that.

He laughs again. “You always were the good girl. I’ll have a Bloody Mary.” He waves off the waitress.

“So I saw your sister and her darling baby at Bloomie’s. Are all her kids that cute?”

“Yeah, she pops out some nice looking kids, doesn’t she?”

I nod.

“You got any? Kids, I mean,” he asks.

“No, I’m not married.”

“That doesn’t mean much these days. I have two.” He takes out his wallet.

“Kids?”

“And ex-wives.” He laughs as he shows me a picture of twin girls about three years in age. “Marriage hasn’t really agreed with me.”

“Do you see your daughters often? They’re darling.” And they are. Springy golden curls and wide smiles with turned-up noses. They must resemble their mother.

“About once a month. I travel a lot in this stage of the game. I guess that’s why marriage hasn’t worked out. I think I need to find someone who expects the same things out of life as me.”

Brea’s words are haunting me about being a career gal. “That’s funny you should say that. I was just rethinking all my travel.”

“It’s the only way to get ahead in this game. I told my wives that all the time.”
Wives.
He’s only thirty-two, and he’s had
wives
. Silicon Valley is a wicked place on marriage. Unless you happen to be of the same sex, then it’s quite friendly toward the union. I’m awestruck by how old he appears, like he’s lived two lifetimes in his years. Does any plastic surgery fight that haggard, too-much-stress lifestyle?

“Maybe getting ahead is not the answer.”

“Now you sound like my sister. She’s always ragging on me to get back to the basics.”

I hand him back the picture of his daughters. “I think that’s good advice, actually.”

The waitress leaves our drinks, and Dan puts cash on her tray. “What are the basics?” He laughs. “Around here, it seems to be a 5-series Beamer and a four-bedroom house in the right section of Menlo Park.”

I scratch my head. “That is what it seems like, huh? I can see the argument for the great car. You spend so much time in it, but your house? Who the heck ever gets to go home?”

Dan smiles. “I often think my maid spends more time there than I do.”

The waitress comes back around. “Are you ready to order?”

“Sashimi hamachi and vegetable tempura.” I hand the waitress my menu.

“Sounds good. Me too.” Dan sucks down his drink and orders another one, but sees my worried face. “Make that a Coke.” With what’s left of his drink, Dan lifts his glass. “A toast to success. And finding out what the heck that is.”

We clink glasses. “You know I was voted ‘most likely to succeed.’ I should have an idea of that, huh?”

“Ah, well, let’s ask the expert then, shall we? What do you think success is, Ashley Stockingdale?”

I pause and ruminate on this question. It’s a good question, but I can’t answer it for anyone else. “I think that it’s living life without fear. We’re afraid we’ll lose our jobs, so we work like robots. We’re afraid we don’t look successful if we don’t have the right cell phone or the right car. It’s like being in one big high school clique for your entire life. I want to live and be unafraid. If I make a fool out of myself at Starbucks, so what?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“And if I never get married, and people think I’m bus bait for the rest of my life, so what? Didn’t God put me here for other reasons?”

“Amen, sister! Preach it.” We both fall into an easy laughter, which surprises me.

“What about you, Dan? What’s success to you?”

He slides the picture of his girls toward me, and all remnants of his laughter fades. “Being a father to my girls. A real father.”

The somber moment leaves us both too filled with questions to talk. We eat our sashimi with barely any words.

“It was so nice to see you again, Dan. And I mean that. I’m going to be praying for you and your family.”

Dan wipes his forehead with the linen napkin. “It’s been a long time since anyone said anything about praying for me. But I’ll take it. Can’t hurt, that’s for sure.”

“We’re part of God’s tapestry, Dan. Let’s find where our string goes, huh?”

He laughs and gives me a hug. “You’re still most likely to succeed, Ashley.” I pay for lunch and watch as Dan gets all his belongings together. As I watch him walk away, my mind grieves for his family.
Lord in heaven, restore that family.

I wave goodbye to him and go through security to my gate. Once inside, I have the distinct desire to call Seth. I can say it’s to check on my apartment. I dial him up before I think too hard on the matter.

“Hi, Ashley,” he says.

Love caller ID.
I exhale into his ear. “Oh, Seth, I am so glad to hear your voice. I’d give anything to not get on this plane. To tell Selectech to take their job and shove it.”

“Well now. Ashley, have you been listening to country music again?”

“Very funny. No, I’m rethinking success, actually. Having an Oprah moment, if you will.”

“Ah, you’ve been to a company productivity meeting.” He laughs. “The meaning of life. Besides Christ? To watch
The Matrix
. Why don’t you come over?”

I laugh. Seth can always make me laugh. “You didn’t really watch
The Matrix
again last night.”

“No, I didn’t. I had work to do, but I know you think that’s all I do with my time. Why not let you believe it?”

“You are an anomaly, Seth.” I will never understand Seth fully, and I guess that’s part of the charm.

“You’re pretty hot yourself, Ash,” Seth says, pleading ignorance on my big word.

“Right back atcha, babe. So, I’ll see you when I get back?”

“Can’t wait. Bye, Ashley, be safe.”

And I hang up looking at my phone longingly. I need to make some changes in my life, or I’ll never feel successful. I tap my notes into my PDA, pausing thoughtfully between each one. But they pour out of my fingertips and onto the screen like an e-mail from God, I swear.

THINGS TO DO FOR LONG-TERM SUCCESS:

1. Make peace with my
Matrix
-loving self. (It’s okay to be a geek!)

2. Learn to let my limbs dance freely in public. (It’s okay to look like a geek!)

3. Embrace the engineer within. (And maybe the one without too! It’s okay to love a geek!)

27

H
IGHLIGHTS OF TAIWAN TRIP:

1. Stepping off dank plane

2. Stepping back onto dank plane after week in brown air

3. Friendly people (unlike Silicon Valley)

4. Trip longer than expected (apartment hunt pushed out farther)

5. But home in time for
American Idol
(Yay!)

There are fourteen voice mails from my mother regarding my brother’s wedding. Most of them asking if work will cover the cost of said calls. I’ve tried to call her back from several places around the planet, but her line is busy constantly. Hasn’t my mother’s generation heard of call waiting? I was tempted to break in on her phone call, but then I thought, why? She’ll just have a litany of things for me to buy in Taiwan!

But I call her an hour after touchdown because I am an exceptional daughter. Besides, I have five minutes to spare before the landlord gets here to show me a new place. Craigslist, an on-line classified, has a million listings for rentals and I got pictures and everything—while in Taiwan—so I think this is the place I want. But I digress.

“Hello?” My mother’s voice is overwhelmed, like answering the phone is an aerobic exercise.

“Mom, it’s Ashley.”

“Ashley, where have you been? For goodness’ sake. I couldn’t get you on your cell phone and you never returned my calls. You could have been dead, and I would have never known. That little Indian woman you work for never tells me a thing.”

“Actually, Mom, I returned your calls many times. Your line was always busy.”

“I’m going crazy with this wedding. It seems like all I do is talk on the phone.”

“You should have e-mailed me.”

“You know I hate that computer. I can never remember how to turn it on.”

The button, Mom. The little button that lights up
. “So what’s so urgent?”