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I sit there, trying to figure out what just happened. Did my boss’s wife really just tell me that they’re selling out and moving overseas? That I am out of both a job and a place to live? Worse, that I’m going to have to fire my staff? Where are Sylvia and Marisol going to go? I’m not so worried about Tiffany and Monique. They’ll find some poor sap to hire them to answer phones somewhere. But what about my seamstresses? How am I going to break this news to Shari? I promised her I’d take care of them.
Oh my God, could my day suck more?
This can’t be happening. It really can’t. What am I going to do?
Sighing, I pull out my cell phone and look at my contacts. Who am I going to call? In times of crisis in the past, I’ve always called one number… home. And okay, generally I’ve wanted to talk to my mom. But Gran is always the one who answered. And whether I liked it or not, Gran is the one who generally gave me the single piece of advice that almost always ended up helping me the most.
But Gran’s not here anymore.
I think about calling Chaz. But this isn’t Chaz’s problem. It’s mine. If I’m ever going to stand on my own two feet, I can’t go ru
Besides, I know what Chaz is going to say: “Oh, you can move in with me.”
No! I can’t let that happen! I have to solve this myself, without a guy helping me. Besides, that’s how I ended up in this mess with Luke, when I moved in with him out of necessity when Shari and I couldn’t find a place together, as opposed to because the two of us were actually ready for cohabitation.
Suddenly, my cell phone chirps… and when I see who is at the other end of the call, I almost sag with relief.
“Hi,” I say, picking up.
“Hey,” Shari says in the gentle tone that I’ve begun to notice people use with the newly bereaved. “How are you? I’ve been meaning to call.”
“Not good,” I say. “I really need to talk. And not on the phone. There’s—” I clear my throat. I am so phlegmy lately. Well, when you’ve been crying as much as I have, I guess it’s only natural. “Something I need to tell you. Can you take a break and meet me somewhere?”
“Sure,” Shari says, sounding concerned. “How about the bubble tea place down here near my office?”
Where Shari told me all but the real reason why she was leaving Chaz. How appropriate.
“I’ll see you there in half an hour,” I say and hang up, then start hurrying toward the subway. At this time of day, a taxi down the FDR would be quicker. But I’m about to be unemployed. I need to save every pe
Shari calls to say she’ll be late, of course. A crisis at the office arises, and she’s the only one, as usual, who can handle it.
Fortunately she calls just as I’m exiting the subway, so I’m able to use my sudden windfall of spare time to window-shop. Her office is so far downtown that it’s actually on the fringes of Chinatown, and as I wander around, blindly going from window to window, I find myself walking past shops displaying wedding gowns. Some of them have Mandarin collars and toggles down the front, and yet the ma
Despite the fact that they are being sold in shops that are right next to fish markets or restaurant supply stores, the gown’s prices are right up there with those at Kleinfeld’s. I overhear two women in front of one window speaking in rapid Chinese while pointing at a particularly gorgeous gown, and while I can’t understand exactly what they’re saying, the meaning behind the words is clear: eight hundred dollars for the pretty white sheath with lace overlay is too much… especially for something any talented seamstress could make at home for a fraction of the price.
I agree with them. Bridal gown shopping is a bitch.
I find a table at the bubble tea place and end up waiting only five minutes before Shari comes bursting in, effusing apologies and sliding into the chair opposite mine before saying kindly, “Now, I’ve told everyone at the office that I’m not to be disturbed. I’ve turned off my phone and beeper, and I have all the time in the world. So tell me. How are you? What’s going on?”
I surprise both of us by bursting into tears. I try to hide my face in a napkin, but the few students and other scruffy-looking, writer-looking types working on their fancy laptops at nearby tables still glance over at us in a
Shari is so shocked she can’t help laughing a little.
“Lizzie,” she says. “What is it? Is it your grandmother? I’m so sorry. I know you miss her, but she died happy, Lizzie, in her sleep, with a beer in her hand. She’s probably in heaven right now, watching Dr. Qui
I shake my head so violently that my hair falls out of the sloppy ponytail into which I’ve pulled it. Strands of it stick to my now-wet cheeks.
“I-it’s not that,” I hiccup.
“What is it, then?” Shari wants to know. “Is it Chaz? Did he do something to upset you? I’ll kill him. Just say the word and I’ll go cut his wiener off—”
“No.” I shake my head some more. “It’s not Chaz. It’s not Gran, either—”
“Oh.” Shari nods knowingly. “I get it. You told him. Luke. Oh, Lizzie. I’m sorry. But, you know, it’s for the best. I mean, the truth is, you’re better off without him. I never could stand him. He was just so… perfect. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
I sit there staring at her in horror. I don’t think I could have spoken if I’d tried.
“I mean, with the château and the good looks and the doctor thing and the apartment on Fifth Avenue,” Shari goes on. “There was something almost creepy about it. Like… what lucky star was he born under? Then when he was so mean to you last Christmas… Seriously, I couldn’t believe it when you said yes when he asked you to marry him. I pretended like I was happy for you because that’s what best friends do, but now… When are you going to dump him? Because I so want to buy a Carvel cake.” When she notices that I’m staring at her without having said a word, she explains, “To celebrate.”
“Shari,” I say when I can finally summon the ability to speak. “I didn’t break up with Luke.”
It’s Shari’s turn to stare at me for a while. Finally she says, “Oh. You didn’t?”
I shake my head.
“So… ” She chews on her lower lip. “So I just really put my foot in my mouth, didn’t I?”
I take a deep breath. Then I release it. Because suddenly the tears are back.
Only this time I’m not going to let them win.
Then I say, “Shari. The Henris are selling the building I live and work in and moving to France. I’m losing my job, my apartment, and, basically, my life. Plus, even though you apparently think Luke is too perfect, I wouldn’t exactly jump to that conclusion, because unlike Chaz, at least he actually wanted to marry me. Chaz most emphatically doesn’t. Still, I’m really happy that you’re so glad for me that I’m getting rid of him. But excuse me if I don’t feel like I have too much to celebrate right now. Especially with a Carvel cake.”
“Lizzie.” It’s Shari’s turn to look horrified. “I—”
But I realize I can’t sit there a second longer. I have to get out. I just have to. I push back my chair and stand up as the waitress is heading over. She gives me an a
“Lizzie,” Shari calls after me. “Lizzie, come on! I didn’t know. You can’t just walk out of here like that! Come back here and talk to me. Lizzie!”
But I keep going. I have to. Even though my tears are blinding me and I can’t see where I’m going.