Five
The first two years that Sarah spent in Washington were a blur. She traveled extensively for work, crisscrossing the country and visiting doctors and manufacturing plants in a dozen countries, from Mexico to Malaysia. Her mother called half a dozen times every day, updating her on everything from important news to random minutiae, often with no distinction between the two.
“Did you know,” she would begin, “that they’re going to close down the old pizza place and replace it with a coffee shop?”
“Uhhh. Really?” Sarah would half-listen with her headset on as she typed at her desk.
One of her coworkers told her that she could always tell when Sarah’s mother called, because Sarah would become unusually quiet and would type at a breakneck pace. “I think you’re actually more productive when she calls. It’s like those white noise headphones that drown out everything else. Your mother is noise that you can ignore.” Sarah laughed, knowing that she was correct.
“And so I said to Phyllis, ‘I don’t know who in their right mind would show their face in a place that charges $3.50 for a cup of coffee.’ I mean, I’d be ashamed to admit that I had that much money to throw away,” Kathy said, full of self-righteousness. Sarah sipped her extra-large latte and realized that she was pleased that telephones didn’t yet have video capability; she certainly didn’t need a lecture about her daily caffeine fix. “But enough about that,” Kathy said. “How are you?”
“Me? Hmm, oh, fine, I guess,” said Sarah, still typing.
“And what’s new with you?” her mother probed.
“Uh, let’s see, it’s been exactly 90 minutes since the last time you called. So… I’d have to say that there’s not much that’s new.”
“Have you done anything interesting today at work?”
Sarah always felt a compulsion to reply sarcastically and tell her mother that she had cured cancer, brokered world peace and arranged the office holiday party, all before 10:00, but she decided against it. “Uh, no, not really. I had a meeting and worked on a proposal, but that’s all.”
“A proposal. Interesting.” Sarah suddenly realized that she had set herself up for the next line of questioning and braced for the onslaught. “So when will you get a proposal from Jeff?”
“Not now, Mother.”
“No proposal now, or no, you don’t want to speak about it now?”
“Both. This isn’t a topic I want to discuss.”
“I’m your mother. You should be able to discuss everything with me.”
Sarah snorted. “Not at work, I’m not.”
“Well you never seem to have time when you’re not working.” Her mother sounded hurt.
“That’s because I’m always working. I’m busy. There’s just no escaping it.”
“Well, I don’t understand why you can’t discuss this Jeff thing with me,” her mother said.
“First of all, why do you always call it, ‘this Jeff thing’? And second, I’ve only been seeing him part-time for two months in between trips. That doesn’t leave a lot of time to get to know someone. And third,” she added almost as an afterthought, “I’m only 26 and I’m in no hurry to get married, settle down or do any of the other things that you’re in such a blazing hurry for me to do.”
“I’m not trying to pressure you, dear,” her mother said artificially sweetly. “I’m just interested in my daughter and her wellbeing.”
“No, you’re nosy,” Sarah said with a laugh. “But I know that, so it comes as no surprise.”
“How can wanting to be involved in your daughter’s life be considered nosy?” Kathy asked with surprise. “Would it be better if I never asked and didn’t care?”
“Yeah, sometimes.”
Her mother grew quiet. “How am I supposed to take care of you? How am I supposed to protect you? You never tell me anything.”
“You’re not supposed to protect me. I’m an adult. Adults take care of themselves.”
“You don’t have children. You can’t possibly understand.” Kathy liked to take every available opportunity to invoke the fact that there were no grandchildren. She would whine about the fact that all of her friends had grandchildren, but Sarah liked to point out the fact that they were all at least a decade older than she, since her mother didn’t have Sarah until well into her 30s. And let’s face it, most people do have kids by the time they’re 40.
“No, I can’t. Listen, Mom, I have to get some work done.”
“Oh, sure. Change the topic. At the rate I’m going, I’ll never be a grandmother.”
“Nope, probably not. Gotta go, Mom. Bye!” She clicked the button on her headset and slumped into her chair. “Lord, why does she do this to me?” she asked no one in particular.
“Estrogen.” The reply was almost shouted over the cubicle wall.
“Nice try, Jared. You blame everything on estrogen.”
His head popped up, prairie dog style. “I do not,” he said emphatically. “Just most things.” He scooted out the door of his cubicle and walked around to her aisle, picking up papers from the printer along the way. “I just think that there isn’t enough understanding of how a little bit of estrogen, run amok, can completely affect the lives of everyone and everything around it.”
“And this would be why you’re gay?” Sarah asked.
“Honey, I moved out of my mother’s house the day I turned 18, and I have never looked back. I’ve never lived with another woman.”
Sarah snorted. “That’s debatable. Dmitry was more effeminate than any woman I’ve ever met.”
“But I never lived with him,” Jared protested. “I just…”
“Enough! That’s more information than I need before lunchtime.”
“Ooh! So you want to hear more after lunch?”
“No! Thanks, but no. I’ll leave it to my imagination.”
To Sarah, Jared was the life of the party. He gave her a reason to get out of bed and look presentable each day. A stereotype right down to his perfectly manicured fingernails, Jared took great delight in pointing out every flaw and foible in those he loved; Sarah was part of this elite group, and often had to endure lectures about why those shoes don’t go with those pants, or how a new shadow color would hide the fatigue that was so visible in her eyes. He helped her select outfits for business trips, dates and family gatherings. “You never know when you’re going to need to impress someone, so you need to look your best at all times.” And wearing one of these chosen outfits—jeans, black boots and a surprisingly crisp white tee shirt—was how she met Michael.
People will tell you that the supermarket is a great place to meet members of the opposite sex, but Sarah only managed to meet old women who needed help reaching packages stored out of their reach on the top shelves of the store, or teenaged boys who couldn’t figure out that produce should be bagged on top of canned goods to avoid being crushed. And then, one day, much to her surprise, she ended up in a deep discussion with a good-looking and funny guy as they debated the relative merits of nuts in ice cream. He insisted that nuts were actually at the heart of every good ice cream flavor blend; Sarah believed that nuts were a nuisance that turned yummy flavors into weirdly crunchy experiences. She offered to give him all the nuts in her rocky road—“It wouldn’t be much of a rocky road if there were no nuts, would it?”—and he gave her his number. She called two days later to see if he had equally strong opinions about pizza toppings. They met at her favorite local pizza shop, and she brought a small Ziploc baggie filled with the nuts from her ice cream. They discovered that aside from the nut issue, they had a surprising amount in common, and enjoyed the time that they spent together. But both traveled extensively for work, and trying to find time to spend together required a full-time scheduling secretary and some creative dates, including Saturday matinee movies and hamburger lunches to accommodate international flights later in the day.
Sarah liked Michael a lot, but saw him so infrequently that she realized that she knew very little about him. She knew that he worked for the government, like 95% of Washington, and that he had some sort of intense job that required a great deal of math, but she really didn’t understand the details. It wasn’t really necessary; their relationship just wasn’t at that level. In spite of all of her mother’s pressure about settling down and finding “the one”, she wasn’t sure that he was it. She couldn’t explain it in any tangible sense, and wasn’t really sure that it didn’t have something to do with the fact that they were both married to their jobs.
“So where is Mr. Globetrotter this week?” asked Jared.
Sarah glanced at her calendar. “Today’s the 12th? He’s at that symposium in London.”
“Ah, London. Home of rain, rain and more rain.” Jared shook his head with disappointment.
“I thought that was Seattle’s motto.”
“Oh no,” he said. “Definitely London. It’s impossible to keep a decent-looking hairdo in London. Look at the queen! She’s living proof. Woman hasn’t changed her hairdo since the 1940s because there’s just nothing else that can be done with it in that weather.”
“And to think, I always assumed that was why Curt Cobain and Courtney Love looked the way they did.”
“No, sweetie, that’s a cross between caffeine and depression. It’s bad stuff.”
Sarah laughed. “Get out of here. I have work to do.”
“Work? Who has time for work?” He rolled up the print jobs and used them as a megaphone. “Attention everyone: Sarah will be taking the day off, because she’s a slacker.”
Sarah smacked the paper away from his mouth. “Come on, I’m serious. I really need to finish this stuff before this afternoon’s meeting.”
“Or else…?”
“Or else what?”
“My point exactly.” Jared had rolled the paper again, and poked her in the arm with the tube. “Slack for a while.”
“Nope. Can’t. Gotta fly to Buffalo tomorrow to train our distributor’s sales force.”
“Whooo! Buffalo! You do see all the glamorous places! Well, let me leave you to your work.” Jared bowed theatrically and scurried off to his cubicle, giggling. “Buffalo. I love it!”
“Did you know,” she would begin, “that they’re going to close down the old pizza place and replace it with a coffee shop?”
“Uhhh. Really?” Sarah would half-listen with her headset on as she typed at her desk.
One of her coworkers told her that she could always tell when Sarah’s mother called, because Sarah would become unusually quiet and would type at a breakneck pace. “I think you’re actually more productive when she calls. It’s like those white noise headphones that drown out everything else. Your mother is noise that you can ignore.” Sarah laughed, knowing that she was correct.
“And so I said to Phyllis, ‘I don’t know who in their right mind would show their face in a place that charges $3.50 for a cup of coffee.’ I mean, I’d be ashamed to admit that I had that much money to throw away,” Kathy said, full of self-righteousness. Sarah sipped her extra-large latte and realized that she was pleased that telephones didn’t yet have video capability; she certainly didn’t need a lecture about her daily caffeine fix. “But enough about that,” Kathy said. “How are you?”
“Me? Hmm, oh, fine, I guess,” said Sarah, still typing.
“And what’s new with you?” her mother probed.
“Uh, let’s see, it’s been exactly 90 minutes since the last time you called. So… I’d have to say that there’s not much that’s new.”
“Have you done anything interesting today at work?”
Sarah always felt a compulsion to reply sarcastically and tell her mother that she had cured cancer, brokered world peace and arranged the office holiday party, all before 10:00, but she decided against it. “Uh, no, not really. I had a meeting and worked on a proposal, but that’s all.”
“A proposal. Interesting.” Sarah suddenly realized that she had set herself up for the next line of questioning and braced for the onslaught. “So when will you get a proposal from Jeff?”
“Not now, Mother.”
“No proposal now, or no, you don’t want to speak about it now?”
“Both. This isn’t a topic I want to discuss.”
“I’m your mother. You should be able to discuss everything with me.”
Sarah snorted. “Not at work, I’m not.”
“Well you never seem to have time when you’re not working.” Her mother sounded hurt.
“That’s because I’m always working. I’m busy. There’s just no escaping it.”
“Well, I don’t understand why you can’t discuss this Jeff thing with me,” her mother said.
“First of all, why do you always call it, ‘this Jeff thing’? And second, I’ve only been seeing him part-time for two months in between trips. That doesn’t leave a lot of time to get to know someone. And third,” she added almost as an afterthought, “I’m only 26 and I’m in no hurry to get married, settle down or do any of the other things that you’re in such a blazing hurry for me to do.”
“I’m not trying to pressure you, dear,” her mother said artificially sweetly. “I’m just interested in my daughter and her wellbeing.”
“No, you’re nosy,” Sarah said with a laugh. “But I know that, so it comes as no surprise.”
“How can wanting to be involved in your daughter’s life be considered nosy?” Kathy asked with surprise. “Would it be better if I never asked and didn’t care?”
“Yeah, sometimes.”
Her mother grew quiet. “How am I supposed to take care of you? How am I supposed to protect you? You never tell me anything.”
“You’re not supposed to protect me. I’m an adult. Adults take care of themselves.”
“You don’t have children. You can’t possibly understand.” Kathy liked to take every available opportunity to invoke the fact that there were no grandchildren. She would whine about the fact that all of her friends had grandchildren, but Sarah liked to point out the fact that they were all at least a decade older than she, since her mother didn’t have Sarah until well into her 30s. And let’s face it, most people do have kids by the time they’re 40.
“No, I can’t. Listen, Mom, I have to get some work done.”
“Oh, sure. Change the topic. At the rate I’m going, I’ll never be a grandmother.”
“Nope, probably not. Gotta go, Mom. Bye!” She clicked the button on her headset and slumped into her chair. “Lord, why does she do this to me?” she asked no one in particular.
“Estrogen.” The reply was almost shouted over the cubicle wall.
“Nice try, Jared. You blame everything on estrogen.”
His head popped up, prairie dog style. “I do not,” he said emphatically. “Just most things.” He scooted out the door of his cubicle and walked around to her aisle, picking up papers from the printer along the way. “I just think that there isn’t enough understanding of how a little bit of estrogen, run amok, can completely affect the lives of everyone and everything around it.”
“And this would be why you’re gay?” Sarah asked.
“Honey, I moved out of my mother’s house the day I turned 18, and I have never looked back. I’ve never lived with another woman.”
Sarah snorted. “That’s debatable. Dmitry was more effeminate than any woman I’ve ever met.”
“But I never lived with him,” Jared protested. “I just…”
“Enough! That’s more information than I need before lunchtime.”
“Ooh! So you want to hear more after lunch?”
“No! Thanks, but no. I’ll leave it to my imagination.”
To Sarah, Jared was the life of the party. He gave her a reason to get out of bed and look presentable each day. A stereotype right down to his perfectly manicured fingernails, Jared took great delight in pointing out every flaw and foible in those he loved; Sarah was part of this elite group, and often had to endure lectures about why those shoes don’t go with those pants, or how a new shadow color would hide the fatigue that was so visible in her eyes. He helped her select outfits for business trips, dates and family gatherings. “You never know when you’re going to need to impress someone, so you need to look your best at all times.” And wearing one of these chosen outfits—jeans, black boots and a surprisingly crisp white tee shirt—was how she met Michael.
People will tell you that the supermarket is a great place to meet members of the opposite sex, but Sarah only managed to meet old women who needed help reaching packages stored out of their reach on the top shelves of the store, or teenaged boys who couldn’t figure out that produce should be bagged on top of canned goods to avoid being crushed. And then, one day, much to her surprise, she ended up in a deep discussion with a good-looking and funny guy as they debated the relative merits of nuts in ice cream. He insisted that nuts were actually at the heart of every good ice cream flavor blend; Sarah believed that nuts were a nuisance that turned yummy flavors into weirdly crunchy experiences. She offered to give him all the nuts in her rocky road—“It wouldn’t be much of a rocky road if there were no nuts, would it?”—and he gave her his number. She called two days later to see if he had equally strong opinions about pizza toppings. They met at her favorite local pizza shop, and she brought a small Ziploc baggie filled with the nuts from her ice cream. They discovered that aside from the nut issue, they had a surprising amount in common, and enjoyed the time that they spent together. But both traveled extensively for work, and trying to find time to spend together required a full-time scheduling secretary and some creative dates, including Saturday matinee movies and hamburger lunches to accommodate international flights later in the day.
Sarah liked Michael a lot, but saw him so infrequently that she realized that she knew very little about him. She knew that he worked for the government, like 95% of Washington, and that he had some sort of intense job that required a great deal of math, but she really didn’t understand the details. It wasn’t really necessary; their relationship just wasn’t at that level. In spite of all of her mother’s pressure about settling down and finding “the one”, she wasn’t sure that he was it. She couldn’t explain it in any tangible sense, and wasn’t really sure that it didn’t have something to do with the fact that they were both married to their jobs.
“So where is Mr. Globetrotter this week?” asked Jared.
Sarah glanced at her calendar. “Today’s the 12th? He’s at that symposium in London.”
“Ah, London. Home of rain, rain and more rain.” Jared shook his head with disappointment.
“I thought that was Seattle’s motto.”
“Oh no,” he said. “Definitely London. It’s impossible to keep a decent-looking hairdo in London. Look at the queen! She’s living proof. Woman hasn’t changed her hairdo since the 1940s because there’s just nothing else that can be done with it in that weather.”
“And to think, I always assumed that was why Curt Cobain and Courtney Love looked the way they did.”
“No, sweetie, that’s a cross between caffeine and depression. It’s bad stuff.”
Sarah laughed. “Get out of here. I have work to do.”
“Work? Who has time for work?” He rolled up the print jobs and used them as a megaphone. “Attention everyone: Sarah will be taking the day off, because she’s a slacker.”
Sarah smacked the paper away from his mouth. “Come on, I’m serious. I really need to finish this stuff before this afternoon’s meeting.”
“Or else…?”
“Or else what?”
“My point exactly.” Jared had rolled the paper again, and poked her in the arm with the tube. “Slack for a while.”
“Nope. Can’t. Gotta fly to Buffalo tomorrow to train our distributor’s sales force.”
“Whooo! Buffalo! You do see all the glamorous places! Well, let me leave you to your work.” Jared bowed theatrically and scurried off to his cubicle, giggling. “Buffalo. I love it!”
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