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“Carol … come on … What kind of question is this?” I pretend to be indignant with her question. “Evan likes medical dramas, of course. His favorite shows are House, The Good Doctor, Grey’s Anatomy—pretty much any show that depicts doctors as doing nothing else but having affairs with nurses and mistreating patients. He just goes nuts for how accurate and amazing these shows are!” I tell her sarcastically.
“Why didn’t I think of this?” She slaps her forehead. “Of course! Medical dramas because he’s a doctor! And what about food?”
“Well, we went to that Turkish restaurant that he likes, but you hated it, Carol, so…”
“Yeah…”
And then, all of a sudden, she asks me something that makes my knees weak. “Hey, do you know if he wants to get married?”
Her question is a simple one. To Carol, this is just a piece of information, one of many that she thinks she can use to seduce Evan. But, to me, it feels like an ice-cold hand has reached inside my chest and gripped my heart painfully.
“Married? What … why are you asking me that, Carol?”
“I mean, like I said, Evan is a great man. The best, actually. Look around. Where are you going to find someone better? I’d have to be stupid not to think about marriage with someone like him,” she says simply.
“Stupid … mhm.”
She starts to play with the display on the counter where we usually keep samples of perfumes, lipsticks, and tiny lip glosses that we give for free to our favorite customers.
“I have no idea what kind of man you’re hoping to find out there, Emmy,” she continues absentmindedly. “I mean, the fact you already have someone in your life like Evan and he’s not your dream man … I just don’t get it. What is your dream man?” she asks me.
All of a sudden, the conversation has turned far more serious than I wanted.
To Carol, this is still just “girl talk” but she cannot possibly know what all this means to me.
“My … dream man?” I mutter.
“Yeah. I mean, Evan is so handsome, smart, kind, successful, even rich. What is he lacking that you’re looking for in another man?” Carol grills me.
“It’s not that Evan is lacking something. Evan and I have been friends for a very long time—since I was an eleven-year-old girl. I just don’t see him that way.”
“Romantically?”
“I guess so,” I answer.
“Well, I don’t understand how you can spend all your time with that man and not develop feelings for him. It would be impossible for me!” she says cheerfully.
Before I have a chance to answer, Mr. Doyle walks into the shop holding a sandwich.
“Hello, Mr. Doyle. I’m here because—”
“Miss Williams!” He looks up at me startled as if he’s seen a bear riding a bicycle. “Yes. Good. You’re here. Take those boxes and start unpacking them. We received a shipment of lipsticks today and they need to be sorted out,” he barks at me.
“No, Mr. Doyle, I’m not here to work.”
The man’s face contorts at my words. It’s quite funny, and almost looks like he’s eating a lemon.
Carol slips away into the back of the store, leaving us alone to discuss this.
“What. Is that. Supposed to mean. Miss Williams?” He spells out for me like I’m five.
“That. Means. That I. Am not. Here to work,” I reply in the same tone, spelling out the sentence for him.
“Don’t talk to me like that. Show some respect! I’m your boss!”
“Mr. Doyle, I came in here today because the hospital sent me these papers that you need to sign. It’s about my medical leave. So, can you please sign them?”
He looks at the papers but doesn’t move. “Are you coming back to work today?”
