Day Forty-One: Insanity

The Saturday morning crowds are a bit more than we bargained for. Or at least they're more than I bargained for– Seth may have mentioned something to this effect. I had hoped it would be less crowded earlier in the morning but we got to a later start than normal. We were up late. Gloriously late.

We took the subway, which was novel; I rarely do so. I've lived in New York City my entire life but I've always avoided its more... colourful... areas and I've often had an escort of some sort– dad always worried about our safety ever since the attempt on his life when we were kids. When I studied at Harvard it was the first time I'd ever really been on my own. It's strange now to walk down the streets like a normal person with only Seth beside me. And the subway was interesting, particularly the man dressed in what looked to be footie pajamas who was asking for donations to rebuild Ebbets Field. I could be wrong about this, but I think there's an apartment building at Ebbets Field now.

The showrooms in the furniture store are crowded and I'm glad to have Seth a step ahead of me. I think I'd lose my mind on my own, but he looks quite comfortable shouldering his way through the slow-moving shoppers with an "Excuse me." Some of them turn, scowling, and I can't help but notice how the women's faces soften as soon as they lay eyes on him. Should I be jealous? Mostly I just feel proud that he's mine.

"Finally," I sigh as we reach the showrooms for home offices.

"Are you all right?" Seth asks as I pull off my jacket.

"Fine. Just a little warm. There are so many people..."

He nods. "Saturdays..."

"I usually do my shopping on weekdays." His lips quirk but he doesn't say anything. I raise an eyebrow. "Are thinking of making a joke about people with real jobs?"

"Of course not," he says but there's a twinkle in his eyes... one that I can only excuse when he takes my hand and presses his lips to it. The diamond on my finger catches the light and for an instant I feel giddy. I'm going to marry him.

We start walking through the office showrooms and it's only a few minutes before a salesman approaches. "May I help you with anything?"

"Yes, we're looking for a desk," I tell him.

"A writing desk or a computer desk?"

"Computer."

"For you?"

"No, for my fiancé," I say taking Seth's hand. "So something nice and tall."

"Do you have a particular style in mind? We have a variety of antique style desks– with all the modern commodities of course. We have some very nice Edwardian desks or British classics in a selection of finishes. We also have a modern collection– steel and glass are very popular right now."

I turn to look at Seth's face and he has the air of a deer in the lights of an oncoming tractor trailer. "I don't think we've really decided yet," I say. "We just started decorating so we want to get an idea of what's out there."

We look at the modern desks, the sort of thing Ephraim likes to have at his place, all clean lines and sleek angles. After that we move on to the classic designs, which were always dad's favourite. The salesman is showing us a handsome heavyset desk in a deep, almost mahogany-coloured finish. It looks like something they might have made a hundred years ago but he shows us the hidden keyboard drawer and the cleverly-placed holes for computer wires. "It comes in several finishes. This one is a cinibar finish, but it's also available in Hastings, rustique, and charcoal."

"It's very nice," Seth manages to choke out. He looks a little pale. "I'd like to discuss it with my fiancé."

The salesman's raised eyebrows are the only clue that he's surprised. He takes the hint and leaves.

Seth grabs me by the arm and pulls me to one side. "Seth?"

"Eirika, it's a four-thousand dollar desk," he hisses.

I stare blankly at him for a moment. "Well I... I wasn't sure what you were looking for. I figured it wasn't a custom piece and not one of those cheap ones you have to assemble yourself and–" He has this look on his face, like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Oh. You did want one of those..."

He looks embarrassed. "I like putting them together."

I start to giggle and after a few moments we're both laughing. People cast us sideways glances as if we've lost our minds, but I don't care. "I'm sorry," I say, leaning my head against his shoulder for a moment. "I am trying."

"I should have said something. I thought you'd disapprove."

"It's not what I'm used to," I admit. "But it's your office and you can do whatever you want with it. Okay?" He nods. "Let's go home and pick out something online."

"Agreed."

I take his arms and we venture back out into the Saturday morning madness.