Page 5 of Wild Thing
“Sounds interesting.”
"It's boring as hell," I laughed. I had a buzz on from the wine. "I’m more excited to catch up with one of my best friends who is flying in too."
“How fabulous,” she chuckled. “Bet you two get up to mischief on these work trips.”
“Not enough.” I smiled, wondering what this woman did before retirement.
“So what exactly does an interior designer do?”
“It depends on the project, but usually I work closely with the client on their vision. It could be for a new build or renovation. I manage the interior design of the entire space, ensuring it’s functional and practical.”
“What kind of project are you working on in the city?"
“Well, it's the biggest project of my career," I offered. "It’s a designer bridal store called Studio Pase."
The silver haired woman looked impressed. "That's exciting for you."
It really was. This was the project that could cement me as a leading interior designer on the East Coast. I needed thisin my portfolio if I was to ever open my own interior design consultancy.
A few moments of silence passed. I thought maybe I’d bored the shit out of her with all of the work jargon.
“Are you married?” she asked, keeping the conversation flowing.
I flashed her my left hand, sans ring.
She appeared slightly surprised. “Boyfriend?”
I scoffed. “For now.”
She looked at me with a cocked eyebrow. “Oh?”
I couldn’t believe I was about to open up to a complete stranger, but there I was, about to verbalize my deepest, darkest thoughts. “I don’t think he is the right one.”
The wise stranger turned in her seat to face me. “Honey, if you don’t think he is, then he most definitely isn’t.”
My eyes shifted to a young couple sitting on the other side of the aisle, a row ahead. Giggling and smitten, they took selfies together. They looked like a couple of French-kissing, horny teenagers just discovering each other.
Lucky them.
“What about you, are you married?” I decided to ask her, purposely steering the conversation away from my relationship problems. That topic was about as depressing as the weather outside.
“Yes, for 49 years.”
“Wow. That's a long time. Congratulations.”
“Oh honey, don’t congratulate me. If I had my time again, I wouldn’t be married,” she muttered. “Not to him anyway.”
My jaw dropped wide open. “Why?”
“Back in my day women didn’t have the choices they have now. If you wanted security, or a comfortable life, you needed to be married. Career women weren’t really a thing. It was all about being the best homemaker.”
She looked downcast. Almost as if she was mourning what could have been.
“That’s entirely the problem with my boyfriend. He wants a domesticated housewife,” I admitted to the blue-eyed stranger. “He’s pressuring me to move in. Probably to begin my indoctrination as a Stepford Wife.”
The nameless woman laughed while my mind drifted back to my last few encounters with Zack. They hadn’t exactly been pleasant. I hadn’t seen him since the day before yesterday and the conversation had been strained. Forced and riddled with tension. We’d been together for a year, and lately, the cracks in our relationship had been hard to ignore.
“He’s a traditionalist,” I continued. “But he didn’t say it outright, you know? The man I first met is not the man I’m with now. That's been slowly made clear to me over time.”
