I was sick offollowing her. We had wandered aimlessly through vintage shops all afternoontrying to find him a present.

"He loves artisan jewelry, like theturquoise turtle ring I gave him last year. I must find something likethat," she reminded me.

I heard those words over and over again thatafternoon. We must find something like that. I felt like telling her he neverliked that ring she found at the street fair. He simply smiled and tucked it awaywith his collection of presents she's given him through the years. How many timeshave we searched through Egyptian flea markets or Austrian candle shops? I wastired. I never liked Hubert. The way he gradually became part of my life. The wayhe suddenly controlled all my actions. I couldn't go to the park with Millie orshare late-night conversations when the scary movies were on because he wantedher to "mature," and go to the library for hours with him and searchthrough historical accounts about Zimbabwe.

He told her not to hang outwith our friends. He told her to change. He didn't want his future bride to be"culturally confined." He wouldn't let her eat the hamburgers or pizzashe loved. Now she eats organic chickpeas with Tabasco sauce. She no longerdresses in the man-tailored shirts and torn jeans. Now she dresses up. She'sdifferent. Her long blond hair, which swayed over her shoulders at summerparties, is short and tucked behind her ears. Her lips, which used to be coveredin cranberry gloss, are now white chapped blankets. She used to tell hystericaljokes, but now her personality's stripped to the bone.

She's alwaysbuying him things, and thanking him for opening her wonderful new world. Whatkind of world is it, though? Does she truly enjoy waking up at four in themorning to make apple pockets and pick fresh wild flowers for his night table?Did she really enjoy throwing out her television? She used to love watching Nickat Night or putting on a late Lifetime movie.

"I found it!" sheexclaimed.

"What?"

"Look, it'sperfect."

She showed me a velvet blanket from a Chilean tribe. It wasonce used to cradle newborn babies. It would bring good luck and a successfullife.

"He'll love it. Can you imagine my luck finding it? He willlove it. What do you think?"

What did I think? I think she shouldstop buying his love, and stop trying to impress him. She should stop trying sohard to get him to show affection. She should stop trying to pretend she isreally happy. She should be more independent and more self-assured. She should bewho she once was.

"I think it's nice," I told her.

Shesmiled and paid for the purple blanket. I watched as her long skirt danced withthe air, and her short blond hair escaped from behind her ear to fall over herpale face. I had truly lost her.