Roses, weddings, and cold feet
Roses. Red ones. Twelve of them. With really long stems. Delivered to work today. For no reason whatsoever, that I can think of. What more could a girl want, right? You would think that that would make me happy. And it did. For a while. I blushed, and beamed, and smiled giddily every time I glanced up from my paperwork to see one of the surgery nurses standing in the doorway admiring them, or walked back into the office and saw the little card nestled in the greens that simply said "Maci..........Drew" or Dr. Reed would shake his head and mumble "either he did something wrong, he wants to marry you, or someone put him up to it...". But of course, as usual, my brain gets the best of me, and I start to worry. Because roses would generally indicate that a relationship is going well, right? And a relationship that is going well really has no forcast of termination in the near future. And relationships that are never terminated frequently lead to marriage. And I am SCARED TO HIGH HEAVEN OF MARRIAGE. So I look for all kinds of reasons for this whole lovely bouquet to be the beginning of the end of the best thing that has ever happened to me. "Roses? How generic is that? He should know me well enough by now to know that I would love something wierd better than roses. Anything but roses. Hell. He should know that he could fill a vase with grass and it would delight me more than roses..." Ha. As if I didn't love the roses. Yes, grass would make me happy. But I can't deny that there is something about roses...and my search for a flaw in this innocent act of romance leaves me empty-handed and with a feeling of guilt over my psycho-pseudo-ungratefulness. So Abby meets me at work so we can go shopping for Carmens bridal shower gift. And it's not like I can hide these roses, right? Even if I did put them under the desk, she's far too perceptive not to catch this goofy, embarassed "guess what!?!" grin on my face. But likewise, I am far too perceptive of her to miss the jealousy and innevitable hint of resentment in her eyes as she oohs and aahs and wows. It's not that she's not happy for me, it's not that she's not trying to appear unfazed. But we just know each other too damn well. So I change the subject and clock out and we go bridal shower gift shopping. And then we go to the bridal shower. And for a little while we both forget that I have a boyfriend who buys me flowers for the hell of it, and she doesn't have a boyfriend at all, and instead we are jealous that Carmen is getting measuring spoons and laundry baskets, and not at all jealous that Carmen is getting married. And then kindly, well-meaning middle-aged women that have known me since before I was born say things like "taking notes Maci? your turn coming soon?" and I want to say "Hell no, I hope not." but Abby says "ask her what she got at work today..." and at the same time I'm blushing I'm also getting this nauseaus feeling in the pit of my stomach because it what ends in measuring spoons and laundry baskets always started with a dozen red roses.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Abby and I finally grow weary of the "you girls are next in line, I'm sure" comments, as though they assume we come to bridal showers as an act of masochism. We bale, and and call Drew to meet us for coffee at Pope's. But before that we stop to put gas in Abby's car. She runs in to the store to pay and when she comes out, there is a guy at the pump next to us trying to get my phone number. I pretend like I missed that part of the conversation, and instead introduce him to Abs, and wish that I had been the one to run in to pay for the gas and left her sitting in the car. She bats her eyelashes and invites him to join us for coffee. He thanks her politely, winks at me, and drives away. We laugh about how lame he was, to be cruising the blvd. on a Tuesday night, and then head for Popes. When we arrive, I elbow Drew and thank him, genuinely, for the roses. Abby pretends to be fascinated by the way a drinking-straw wrapper will stick to the condensation on a water glass. So Drew interrupts me to tell a joke about pigs. And I want to excuse myself, and then when they think I am going to the rest-room, I will sneak outside and hitch a ride to Canada and never come back. Because it is things like this...roses and elbow jabs and pig jokes that lead to inevitably jealous best-friends and worst of all, marriage.
