Shopping and Other Disasters

Chapter One

"Oh, God. Oh, God." I flap my arms in front of my face and turn to Anna in complete and utter panic. "I didn't even think about what kind of chocolate he likes! What kind of a devoted, loving partner am I? Oh, God!"

"Rosie, calm down," Anna says, even though her face is all flushed and slightly reddish too, and I can see stains spreading from beneath her dove gray Armani work suit's sleeves. "Erm...I'm fairly sure all guys like the same kind of chocolate, right? I bet he doesn't even care!"

"No!" I wail, turning to her and gesturing towards the rows and rows of chocolates frantically. "You don't know Ben! He's a chocolate fanatic! An addict! He knows the difference between Godiva and...God, I forgot the name of the brand..." I trail off and plop down into the plastic chair at the end of the aisle. I put my head in my hands and want to cry. I can feel the tears burning at the back of my eyes. 

I'm an absolute  failure at this, I think to myself. What made me think I could handle being Ben Markham's wife? God, I was a terrible fiancee! I didn't even remember our special anniversary dinner until it was too late and Ben was already at the restaurant and the salmon had gone all cold! We didn't talk to each other the entire way home, and when we got home, it was straight to bed. No little games, not even watching a rerun of his beloved football games or something.

I should have learned something from that experience. That I will fail horribly at any sort of commitment and should therefore not put myself in that position to begin with.

But that's why you're a rather foolish girl, Rosie, I think to myself, taking my head out of my hands and staring at the endless rows of chocolates in front of me. Raspberry-filled, orange-infused, cherry-blossom-tinged...who knew there were so many type of chocolates? Don't get me wrong--I love chocolate. When I'm not dieting and restricted strictly to tuna and boiled eggs. But I'm not an addict like Ben! I couldn't care less about the name of the brand, and yet Ben wrinkles his nose at Lindor but gobbles Godiva...

"I'm having a meltdown, Anna!" I say loudly. Then, just because I feel a little theatrical, I propel myself backwards out of my chair and proceed to sit on the floor of the aisle. The tiles must be disgusting, but I'm wearing the old jeans I got at French Connection two years ago, so that's okay. 

"Well, you're sitting down already...how about some yoga?" Anna looks as if a lightbulb's gone off in her head. She starts to get very flushed and points excitedly, and I hate to admit it, but my best friend looks rather ridiculous, waving her hands like a little child in a very fancy work suit. "That's it, Rosie! You're terribly Zen, aren't you?"

Oh, yes. I'm very Zen. I think back to my last yoga class, when we were doing the Downward Dog. I was the only one in the entire class who got it right, and the teacher gave me a little coupon or something as a prize, but I forgot all about it, and besides, who's going to use that spa anyway? So I went home and fed it to my little Yorkie, Pip, on accident--he ate it off the floor--and then I got in big trouble with my yoga teacher. Turns out that was the admission card into the next class and that I hadn't gotten in the week before like everyone else because I hadn't shown up.

But still. I can do the Downward Dog, so there's no harm in giving yoga a try.

Except...oh, crap, I don't exactly remember what I should do during the Downward Dog. Do I splay my palms out first? Or is the Downward Dog the terribly confusing one where I try to put my feet behind my head or something?

I start to sweat--I can feel the little beads drip drip dripping down my face--and force myself to think calmly. "Okay, so I'm going to start with some meditation," I say to Anna as confidently as I can, who is watching me very intently. 

"Good, good!" Anna says, clapping her hands together. "I love learning something from a professional."

Okay. Okay. I gulp and swallow hard, and blink, and then I close my eyes and rest my hands in an oval-ish shape on my knees. "Ommmmmm," I intone loudly enough for Anna to hear. "Ommmmmm..."

I do it over and over again, and soon, I'm feeling it! I'm actually doing it! The vibe's actually rather very relaxing, and I discover that Anna was absolutely right. I am a professional! A born natural, if I do say so myself. I work on some more meditation, and then some more, and then some more...and then I start to get lightheaded. But no matter! I must be going into a trance, like my yoga teacher says...

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out...

"Ma'am?" 

"Aah!" I jump from my position on the floor, my eyes shooting open, and glare daggers at the gangly young man who disturbed me. "Can't you see I'm trying to perform yoga here? Disrupting such a sacred ritual comes at a very high price, Mr. I-Can-Bother-Whoever-I-Want-To! My husband is Ben Markham, I'll have you know that, and he could probably buy out this entire place. So I don't care if you can't get through to the chocolates!"

"Ma'am, I'm the owner of this store," the man says, and gestures behind him. "You were...well," he squirms, but continues. "You made some very loud grunting noises, and then you proceeded to push over an entire row of chocolates, and most of the boxes were opened and spilled and stepped on. And those were our most expensive chocolates."

Oh, shit.