Slim Chance. Jackie Rose
quite sleepy, until there was a knock at the door.
And then someone walked in. A tall guy with rounded, wire-rimmed glasses and freckles. I stared at him for a few seconds until I realized that I recognized him. It was Bruce. My Bruce. Of course, my first thought was that someone had died. My mother? My heart flew up into my throat. His mother? My heart settled back down to its usual position.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” I stammered, already embarrassed. At this point, the ten or twelve women seated around the boardroom table realized with interest that Bruce wasn’t a courier. One of them whispered to me, “Isn’t he yours? He’s got roses!”
And he did. A gigantic bouquet of bloody-looking ones. I know red roses are supposed to signify romantic love and all that, but to me they’ve always seemed a bit on the cheesy side. Orchids—now those make a beautiful bouquet, or maybe lilies… I glanced around the room nervously. All eyes were on Bruce. Awe and jealousy and confusion hung thick in the air. Oh, Evie—give it a rest! Red roses are beautiful, and you know it! Most of the desperados in here would drop dead with shock and gratitude if they got even a single half-dead rose on Valentine’s Day, and here it was, a Friday afternoon in September, and my man was holding at least two dozen….
“Evelyn…” Bruce got down on one knee on the floor in front of me. Instantly, my cheeks start to burn. In my peripheral vision, I could see open mouths and stunned faces. None more stunned than mine, I’m sure.
“Evelyn, I came here today to tell you that I love you, that the past six years have been the best of my life, that I cannot imagine my world without you….”
Was he really talking to me?
“…From the day we met in the cafeteria at NYU, when we reached for that same pudding, I knew you were special….” Somebody behind me giggled loudly. Panic set in, along with elaborate fantasies of revenge.
I can barely breathe—how can she laugh? She’s ruining my moment. I will kill her, whoever she is, I will kill her. I will drill everybody later and find out who laughed. I bet it was Violet from Skincare. She never really liked me, even though I visited her twice in the hospital after she had those polyps removed. It really makes you wonder how some people can be so selfish and intrusive, especially regarding things that don’t even concern them. When it comes to their own amusement, jealous people will do just about anything to take the focus and attention away from those who deserve it….
All of a sudden, everybody laughed, shocking me out of my reverie.
“…which is why you finally agreed to let me take you out to dinner, and promised to throw out that hot plate and never try cooking in your dorm room again!”
Oh God, was he still talking? I had no idea what he’d just said. What the hell was the matter with me?
“So all that to say, that if it wasn’t for the New York City Fire Department, I might not be kneeling here before you today,” Bruce concluded. Everyone laughed again.
Bruce put the roses down on the table beside me and grabbed my hand. “You’re my best friend, Evie, and I adore you. I love you more today than I did yesterday, and I will love you more tomorrow than I do today. And that will be true for every day of the rest of my life…”
Tears suddenly filled my eyes. I blinked and they fell onto my lap. It was undeniably the sweetest thing I’d ever heard. But he wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.
“…So I want to know, Evie…will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” And just like that, he pulled out a little blue velvet box and opened it up. Everyone gasped.
But I didn’t even see it. The room started to spin.
For the next few moments, it was like I’d somehow been dropped into someone else’s body on the other side of the world, and everyone was speaking a different language. I couldn’t make sense of any of it. Where was I? Who was this guy with the glasses in front of me? He needed a haircut, that was for sure. Time stood still.
“Evelyn?” the man said.
“Evelyn?”
And then, just as quickly, it all came thundering back. It was Bruce, the love of my life. Asking me to marry him. I guess I must have been on autopilot or something because I jumped up and someone that sounded an awful lot like me shouted, “Yes! Yes! Of course I will!” He scooped me up in his arms and then the tears really started and I was laughing and crying and I couldn’t stop. Everyone burst up out of their chairs and began clapping and cheering. People from outside heard the fuss and came flowing into the boardroom, incredulous that such a spontaneous display of romance and drama could ever invade the unlikely weekday world of Kendra White. And it was all happening to me. Everyone was looking at me.
And then I was running from the room.
When I opened the stall door, four blank faces stared at me through overly made-up eyes.
“I’m all right, I’m all right. I just need to freshen up a bit,” I sniffled, managing a smile. “I’m just so excited. I mean, I guess I’m in shock. I never expected it, well not like this, anyway. I just can’t believe it.” It was the truth.
“Aw, it’s just like being tossed into a tub full of icewater, hon,” laughed Cheryl-Anne, who works in Sales Rep Training and looks the part. “You’ll get over it soon enough. When my Dickie proposed to me, I just about flipped my wig.” Chuckles all around—she really does wear a wig.
“It was New Year’s Eve, and I’d had more than one too many,” she continued unnecessarily. “I sure do like to have a good time, though, as you ladies already know. Remember the Christmas party of ’98? Oh, Lord—the buns on that copy boy. Anyway, when Dickie popped the question, the whole world started to spin, and I just fainted dead away. I was sick for two months after that. But I guess it musta had something to do with the morning sickness!” she shrieked and slapped her thigh.
Everyone hooted like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. As if a drunken, unwed pregnant woman falling flat on her face in the middle of Times Square were a legitimate source of amusement. How could they laugh? I’d seen pictures of her children. They were very disturbing.
“I think you’re right,” I managed in a weak voice. “It must be nerves.” Back to me now, please.
“I’m sorry, dear,” Winnie from Cosmetics said and grabbed my hand. “This is your day and here we are going on and on. You just have a good cry if you need to and don’t worry about a thing. You don’t have to go back out there before you’re good and ready.”
I hugged her and nodded. I didn’t really know her all that well, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. She was sweeter in one instant than my own mother had ever been, and I vowed then and there not to ditch out on the surprise 50th birthday party I knew was planned for her next Thursday night, although I normally try and get out of those types of things. Hell, I might even chip in for the present.
I straightened myself up a bit and faced the mirror.
Pathetic. I looked as bad as the rest of them. Puffy black eyes, puffy white face, puffy alien body. A distorted imprint of Winnie’s pink-and-tan face remained on my collar. My wrinkled, camel-colored CK jacket (Glamour, March: “15 Work Essentials You Can’t Live Without”) strained at the chest, buttons silently groaning. The size twelve felt like a size two. When did this happen to me?
But Bruce doesn’t seem to mind. He’s good that way. In fact, he never really says a thing about my weight, even though I’ve gained about thirty pounds since we met in my junior year. He just listens patiently as I rail on and on about it, fit after fit, diet after diet, year after year. Feeding me M&M’s all the while… Oh God, that’s it, isn’t it? He must actually like me fat.
Funny how it had never occurred to me before now. He must be one of those guys who gets off on it (Marie Claire, October: “Men Who Like Their Ladies Large”). But should that piss me off or not? I couldn’t decide. Was it wonderful that Bruce loved me no matter how