What I Want Page 11

  I wished that she could see it . . . I wished that she could see everything that I saw as we drove along the beautiful Pacific coastline. But at least she had the wind in her hair and the scream of the engine and the smell and the feel of the leather seats.

  Not too long after the bridge, I found the road I was looking for and took a sharp right turn, continuing on until we reached a parking area. After that, we grabbed our stuff and walked down the trail to the beach, dropping our things onto the sand and stripping down to our suits.

  “Come on,” I said after I’d taken her hand and led her to the waterline. “We’re going to look for jade.”

  “Jade?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “You’re supposed to be able to find it on most of the beaches around here.”

  Josette had helped me do a lot of research to find this particular beach. There were other places where jade was apparently easier to find, but they were all too rocky or too hard for a blind person to get to or walk on, or too likely to have giant waves that could sweep naïve tourists like me and Bizzy out to sea.

  Plus, it didn’t really matter if we found jade or not. The plan was to let her dig around for a little while searching for jade, and then I would put the ring down on the sand and wait for her to discover it. I couldn’t wait to watch her face light up as she realized what it was that she was holding.

  “Okay,” Bizzy said with a smile, and even though she couldn’t see me, I smiled back.

  Bizzy was always ready for anything.

  ~ ~ ~

  FOUR DAYS LATER I opened the front door to my little house and found Josette lying on the couch, reading a book. She sat up to make room for me as soon as she saw me, her mouth stretching into a huge grin.

  “Well?” she asked excitedly, reaching out and hitting my arm lightly as I plopped down next to her. “How’d it go?”

  “It was a very nice wedding,” I answered.

  “Not that, you idiot! Did Bizzy like the ring?”

  “You mean this ring?” I asked and I took it out of my jacket pocket and held it up. Apparently Bizzy hadn’t been as “ready for anything” as I’d thought.

  Josette’s eyes widened and her face fell.

  “What happened?” she asked softly, her mouth now slightly open in shock.

  “She didn’t think we needed to be engaged right now,” I said, shrugging slightly.

  “Why not?” Josette asked, her mouth still open in disbelief.

  “Because she wants to be in Venezuela by this time next year and she doesn’t know exactly how long she’ll be there or whatever and she doesn’t want to get engaged when everything’s so up in the air.”

  “Oh,” Josette said. “So, maybe later?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s over.”

  “Why?” she asked, her eyes growing wide again.

  “Because we broke up.”

  “You broke up?” she cried, her eyes managing to widen even more, and I nodded. “Why?”

  My newfound self-confidence had kicked into full swing once I’d realized that Bizzy wasn’t going to accept the ring I’d bought her. I hadn’t exactly given her an ultimatum . . . but almost.

  I don’t think Bizzy was too impressed with the new me. Bizzy wasn’t exactly lacking in self-confidence herself, and she certainly wasn’t going to let herself be pushed into something that she wasn’t ready for.

  “She said we needed some time to ‘think’,” I explained, doing my best to make little quote marks in the air.

  “And what exactly does that mean?” she asked.

  “It means it’s over.”

  She eyed me dubiously.

  “It is,” I insisted.

  Josette continued to look at me for a long moment.

  “I’m really sorry,” she finally said softly.

  “It’s okay,” I shrugged. “I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

  She looked at me now, obviously surprised that I wasn’t more distraught. I had, after all, been dating Bizzy for almost nine years, and by all rights, breaking up with her should have left me devastated.

  It didn’t though. And I thought I knew why.

  My new attitude, combined with the fact that I’d already had four days to get used to it, was part of the reason I wasn’t more upset.

  I think the main reason, though, was because of my faith.

  My faith had always been important to me. I had walked forward at a youth retreat when I was fourteen and publicly accepted Christ as my personal savior. I memorized Scripture. I read my Bible. I witnessed to people. I prayed (especially when I needed something). So, like I said, my faith was important to me.

  Secretly, however, I think I had always worried that my faith wouldn’t be strong enough to see me through a really difficult time. That’s why I was so pleased now to find out that I was doing just fine. I had a certainty in my heart that God loved me, and I knew that He had a plan for me. I knew that He wasn’t going to let me go through something unless He was ultimately going to work it for good.

  My faith . . . that’s why I was doing so well.

  “I’m really sorry,” Josette said again.

  “Thanks,” I sighed, sinking back into the couch.

  We sat quietly for a moment.

  “On the bright side,” I said, holding the ring up again, “I can return this at any time for full store credit.”

  I glanced at her and she gave me a little smile.

  “I guess my mom and sisters are going to be getting jewelry for Christmas this year,” I said, sighing again.

  She looked at me for a moment.

  “My birthstone’s sapphire,” she said, and I felt my eyes narrow.

  “Well, you know,” she said, shrugging innocently. “Just in case you were wondering.”

  I glared at her and she smiled again, sitting forward on the couch.

  “I’m going to get you something that’ll make you feel better,” she said, patting me on the knee.

  “Not Vegemite.”

  “No,” she agreed, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. “Ice cream.”

  That actually didn’t sound too bad. I watched as she opened the freezer and took out a carton and then reached into the fridge to retrieve the chocolate syrup. She pried open the lid to the ice cream and began dumping syrup straight into the container.

  “Umm, don’t you want to put that in a bowl first?” I asked.

  “Oh, no,” she said adamantly, shaking her head as she continued to add more chocolate. “You have to eat it straight out of the container when you’ve got a broken heart.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes,” she nodded, giving the syrup bottle a final squeeze. “And you’ve gotta watch a chick flick while you’re eating it.”

  “A chick flick?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at her skeptically.

  “Or Chances Are,” she smiled, reaching into the drawer for a spoon. “I recorded it again the whole time you were gone.”

  I smiled back at her as she returned to the living room and handed me the container.

  “Thank you,” I said, taking it from her. “I feel better already.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I set the ring down on the coffee table in front of us and took a bite of ice cream.

  “Don’t forget,” Josette said, picking up the remote and glancing at the ring before she turned on the TV. “Sapphires.”

  ~ ~ ~

  OF COURSE WHEN I said that I felt God had something better in mind, I pretty much figured He had someone better in mind.

  I do fully realize that not everyone is going to find that “someone special” to love, and I know that it’s not God’s plan for everyone to get married, but – just like I had when I was younger – I somehow still had a certainty in my heart that there was someone out there for me. I’m not exactly sure how I knew this, but I did. The only thing I didn’t know was how I was supposed to go about finding her.

  The number of women I knew in Australia was
relatively small: there was Lisa (the lady in accounting who ran all of our material orders), Kerilee, Sandra, Kate and Noelle (the girls who worked in my research lab), Angelique (the girl who worked in the science research library), and Robin (the lady I had gotten to know a bit who worked at the cafeteria).

  I was confident that none of these women were my “someone special.”

  Lisa was about sixty years old, and Robin was probably closer to seventy. Call me prejudiced, but I crossed them off my mental list while I was making it.

  Kerilee and Angelique were both married.

  Noelle was pregnant.

  Kate was gay.

  Sandra was mean.

  My pool of prospective new girlfriends was not exactly overflowing.

  You can do anything you put your mind to, Marco . . .

  For my entire life, my parents had told me this, and I had always believed them. I’d graduated summa cum laude from one of the top schools in the United States. I was going to graduate school at one of the top universities in the world, and I was working with world-renowned researchers at one of the premier institutes in my field. I could play sports and throw darts and write my name and type reports and cut my food and button my shirts.

  I could do anything . . .

  But find somebody to love?

  I knew that God could put someone in my life any time He wanted . . . but what if He didn’t decide to miraculously drop some woman on my doorstep? What if He expected me to actually get out there and make it happen myself?

  How was I supposed to do that?

  Such a task would have been easy for someone like my brother. Dorito could have a cleft palate, missing fingers, and a horn growing out of the middle of his forehead, but he still would have been able to make friends wherever he went.

  But I wasn’t like Dorito – not by a long shot.

  The feisímo factor had undoubtedly contributed to my reserved nature, but I was fairly certain that being somewhat shy and reserved was also just a natural part of who I was.

  But could I do something about that? Could I change something like that about myself?

  You can do anything you put your mind to, Marco . . .

  Maybe.

  ~ ~ ~

  TWO WEEKS LATER Josette and I were both slumped back on the couch, waiting for the commercials to end before the final round on Chances Are.

  “So I wanted to let you know that I’m not going to church with you Sunday,” I mentioned, as casually as I could.

  “How come?” she asked, unconcerned.

  “I, um,” I hesitated. “I’ve decided that I’m going to try some different churches.”

  “You’re what?” she asked, sitting up and looking at me, definitely concerned now. “Why?”

  “You know,” I said, shrugging and still going for casual. “I just think I’m kind of looking for something different.”

  “What’s wrong with Hope Springs?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with it,” I said. “I just want to go somewhere else.”

  “Why?”

  “I just do.”

  “Marco,” she said seriously, “what’s going on?”

  “Nothing’s going on,” I insisted. “This really isn’t a big deal.”

  “Well it’s a big deal to me!”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like going to church with you!”

  “Well I like going to church with you, too, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  I looked at her and sighed. Sometimes I really wished I could lie.

  “Look, I just . . .” I sighed again. “I just want to meet some new people.”

  “New people,” she repeated flatly.

  I nodded.

  “What’s wrong with the people at Hope Springs?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with them,” I admitted, shaking my head, “but . . .”

  “But what?” she asked, staring at me expectantly.

  I looked back at her. This was so embarrassing.

  “Bizzy’s out of the picture now,” I finally forced myself to answer. “And I just think that if there’s somebody else out there for me, maybe I have to go find her. You know what I mean?”

  “Oh,” she said slowly.

  “So,” I went on, “I thought that going to a new church might be a good place to start.”

  “Are you going to go to one of those big mega-churches that has a singles group or something?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do, but I just think I need to get out there a bit and see what happens . . . you know? Get out of my comfort zone?”

  “Oh,” she said again.

  “So,” I said, “I just wanted to let you know.”

  “Right,” she said, and she nodded, seemingly in agreement.

  A few hours later though, after we’d both said goodnight to each other and gone to bed, Josette knocked on my door.

  “Come in,” I said, reaching for the light next to my bed.

  She opened the door as I turned it on.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I answered. I drew my feet up so that she could sit down on the end of my bed.

  The last time she’d come into my room and sat down on my bed to talk to me like that she’d shaken up my entire world . . .

  She was about to do it again.

  “I had an idea,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Why don’t we go out?”

  “Now? Where?”

  “No,” she said impatiently. “I mean like on a date.”

  “What?”

  “I was thinking that you and I could go out on a date.”

  My eyes widened in surprise.

  “Why?”

  “Well, because you just said that you wanted to start dating someone.”

  “Well, yeah,” I sputtered, “but I didn’t mean you.”

  Wow . . . did that ever come out wrong.

  “That came out wrong,” I said hastily.

  “Forget it,” she said, starting to stand up.

  “No, wait.” I reached forward to grab her arm. “You don’t understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “You’re . . . you’re like my best friend here, Josie. Heck, you’re my only friend.”

  She looked at me, waiting for me to go on.

  “And if we try to date and it doesn’t work out . . .” I let go of her arm, looking at her in hopes that she would understand. “Do we really want to take a chance on messing that up?”

  “Probably not,” she agreed. “I guess it was a stupid idea.”

  “No,” I said. “It wasn’t a stupid idea, but . . .”

  “Forget I said anything.” She began to stand up again.

  “I mean, it’s nice of you to ask and everything,” I said, not stopping her this time.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said, heading for the door. “Good night.”

  And she left.

  So.

  Back to my mental list.

  Of course Josette had been on it . . . for like two seconds.

  If I’d thought that things might actually work out between me and Josette I might have actually considered taking her up on her offer (even though she really was the best friend I had right then and even though I really didn’t want to mess that up).

  I would have been willing to risk losing that friendship if I’d honestly thought there was a chance for the two of us . . . but there was no chance.

  Just as I still believed that there was someone out there for me, I also still believed that that “someone” would belong on the Island of Misfit Toys like I did. I was certain that there was going to be something majorly wrong with whoever I wound up with . . .

  And to put it bluntly, there was nothing wrong with Josette.

  Josette was way out of my league. She belonged on the antipode of the Island of Misfit Toys . . . clear on the other side of
the world. You can’t live with a woman for almost a year and not notice something like that . . . whether or not they’re attractive.

  And Josette most definitely was.

  Her eyes, for example. I had actually noticed them the moment I met her in the student union that first day, so long ago. They were a dark, charcoal gray and they were framed by incredibly thick, black lashes and they were beautiful . . . and I had immediately felt guilty for even noticing them.

  It wasn’t just her eyes, though.

  Everything about Josette was attractive: the soft curve of her lips, the gentle arch of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows, her high cheekbones and long, straight dark hair, the flawless tone of her bronzed skin, her delicate fingers, her . . .

  No. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Josette.

  Except for maybe the fact that she hardly ever laughed.

  And except for the reason behind the fact that she hardly every laughed . . .

  I scrambled out of bed and crossed the small hallway, knocking on Josette’s door.

  “Come in?”

  “Uhhh, hi,” I said, opening her door. She was sitting up in bed with a book in front of her.

  “Hi . . .” She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me.

  “So, uhh.” I ran my hand nervously through my hair. “I was thinking about what you said and I changed my mind. I think we should definitely go out.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to take a chance on messing up our friendship.”

  “I don’t,” I admitted, “but we can be mature, right? We’ll just make up our minds that if it doesn’t work out we’ll pretend like it never happened and go back to being friends.”