Page 61 of Huge Dynamite
“Actually, it has everything to do with me.”
“Why?”
Glancing at my mother, I see her compose herself and nod to Robert. Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulls out a black velvet box.
“What the hell is that?” I move back away from the box like it’s made of toxic waste.
“Holly.” Sliding out of his chair, Robert gets down on one knee and opens the box. There, staring at me, is what must be a three-carat diamond with large diamonds surrounding the main stone and more diamonds making up the band.
“What the hell is that?” I repeat. “Jesus.” I’ve never seen a ring that large—or that showy. If I wore the damn thing swimming, I’d drown.
“I think you know what it is. Dr. Holly Boling, will you marry me?”
Looking over at my parents, I catch the smile on my mother’s face but my father looks almost as surprised as I am.
“What?” Grabbing him by the arm, I pull him up to his seat.
My mother glances around at the neighboring tables nervously.
“Is that what this is?” I look around the table. “You brought me here so Robert could propose?”
“He’s willing to marry you even after your recent outbursts and that disgusting thing on your hip,” my mother whispers.
Sighing, I turn away from her and look him in the eyes. “No, Robert. I won’t marry you. I said no the last time you asked also. Can you please stop asking?”
“But this is a bigger ring,” he protests.
“I can see that. That’s what you think will change my mind? A larger engagement ring?” My stomach aches as I look from person to person. “Don’t you people know me at all? Haven’t you been listening?” Turning to Robert, I sigh. “You don’t want to marry me. You want to marry who you think I should be. That is not me.”
“You’re wrong, Holly.” Robert takes my hand again. “We were good once. I know who you are. You just need to get over this.” He waves his hands up and down in front of me. “This—whatever you’re going through—and start acting like you again. Then, once you give up this silly dream of a clinic, we can buy a house near your parents—”
“In suburbia?”
“Yes. Then we can have a couple of kids.”
“And your father and I will be available to babysit when you’re ready to go back to work,” my mother adds.
Suddenly, the temperature in the room skyrockets. Looking at my plate, I swear the untouched tomatoes begin moving in circles. Sweat drenches my silk tank top, and all I want to do is pull it off and run screaming. Grabbing my water goblet, I try to lift it to my lips, but my hands are shaking and the water spills all over my hand. My lips begin to tremble, and I can feel my breathing becoming shallow. Closing my eyes, I try to stop myself from hyperventilating.
My parents and Robert are all talking, but no one is looking at me. Gripping the ends of the tablecloth, I ball it into my sweaty palms. My head feels prickly, and suddenly, I can’t make sense of anything. Squinting, I stare at my mother’s moving lips—she’s saying words like “June” and “roses” and “country club wedding.” Robert seems to be answering “yes” to everything she says, and adding words like “tattoo removal.” Glancing at my father, I see his brows are knitted together. I think he’s saying, “Holly, are you all right?”
Shaking my head, I focus on my father.
“Holly? Are you okay?”
No. I’m not okay.
Standing and leaving the engagement ring on the table, I place my napkin on the chair and look at my father. “Yes, thanks. I need to get going. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Grabbing my bag from the floor next to me, I smile at him.
Then, holding my breath and focusing on one spot on the front door before me, I hurry through the restaurant and toward the door. Bursting through, I just about fall into the parking lot, letting go of my breath. Standing up straight, my nostrils flatten as I draw air in and out through my nose, trying to calm my heartbeat. Seeing my car ahead, I nod to the valet, who comes rushing up to me.
“Keys, please. Boling—the blue one.”
“Of course, Dr. Boling the Second. Don’t you want me to pull the car out for you?”
“No need. Thank you.” As I swallow my anxiety and wait for the valet, I look at my nails. Choosing one, I lift one trembling hand to my teeth and set to work, biting the nail down to a nub. Finally, the valet materializes with my key fob. Thanking him, I take another deep breath and rush toward my car.
It’s okay, I tell myself.I’m okay.
