How to Be Single (48 page)

Alice thought about her old boyfriend, Trevor. How she had planned on spending the rest of her life with him. She had imagined having a few children with him and growing old with him. She remembered all the holidays they had shared, all the ornaments they had collected at Christmas, and how she thought they were going to keep collecting them for years to come. She remembered how he had told her that he didn't want to marry her, and she told him that she thought it was time he moved out.

Ruby thought how she had imagined her happy life of love with every single man she had ever dated or spoken to in the past ten years. She saw all their faces fly past her, she remembered all the different lives she had envisioned. She was going to be the doctor's wife to Len. She was going to be emotionally supportive to Rich with his fledgling contracting business. She was going to move to D.C. to be with that lobbyist, what's-his-name. All the disappointments kept scrolling through her mind. She imagined putting them all in the napkin. She liked this ritual.
Because that is what all these men were. Nothing more than a fantasy. A notion left in a bar napkin.
She wondered how she could have ever given any of them so much power.

Georgia thought about Beth's college graduation. She imagined her and Dale sitting there in the hot sun, holding hands, with Gareth sitting next to them, along with all the respective grandparents. When Beth got up to get her diploma, Dale and Georgia would clap and cheer the loudest, then look at each other and kiss—their pride for Beth and love of each other all mixing together as they hugged and kissed some more. Georgia started to cry a little at this image, this image that she hadn't allowed herself to think of in such a long time. Now, here, as the cold wind whipped around, and the sun was nowhere in sight, she felt the loss of that deeply. And tears fell down her face.

Serena realized that she had no image whatsoever of what was going to happen to her. In her perfect yogi way, she had managed to let die any expectations of what her life was supposed to be like. She had no preconceived notions to let go of. She was empty of images of what she thought her life was supposed to look like. She realized that maybe it was time to get some. For her, it was about
starting
to imagine the life she wanted. She put her blank future into the napkin.

I took out a lighter I had borrowed from Karl and went around the circle, setting fire to our napkins, one by one. As they burned quickly, I said, “It's done. We won't have those lives. They're gone.” One by one we dropped the napkins on the ground as the fire got close to our fingers.

“Now we're free.”

All the women looked at me. Ruby asked first, “Free to do what?”

“Free to move on. Without bitterness. Those lives don't exist. Now we have to go on and live the ones we have.”

Everyone was quiet. I don't think anyone had ever seen me so, well, sincere before. I looked at Sigrud, Rakel, and Hulda. They looked surprisingly respectful and solemn. I looked at them and wondered what they were thinking.

“Do any of you have anything you want to say?”

Rakel spoke up. “Congratulations, you all have just discovered your inner Viking.”

We American ladies looked at each other, pleased.

We all got back to the hotel, had breakfast, then packed. Our whirlwind weekend was over. It was time to go home. Yes. It was time for me to go home. I was done with this all. Had I learned anything? Yes, I think so. Was I glad to have met Thomas? I would have to wait a little more time to find that out.

As we were heading to the airport, we were all quiet, we were sleep-deprived, hungover, and cranky, trying to hydrate ourselves with bottles of water we took from our hotel room. Alice, who was driving, decided to make a big announcement.

“Well, I just want you to know that I believe in elves.”

We all looked at her and smiled, sleepily. Only Ruby had the energy to respond.

“You do? Really?”

“Yes. I do. I believe in elves. I mean, look at this crazy place. Doesn't it just seem like there have to be elves here?”

The rest of us were too tired to reply.

But I thought about this for a minute. We do all need something to believe in, so why not elves?
Or love?

“Well, if Alice can believe in invisible people who wear funny hats, then I can believe in love. I will believe, from today on, that it's possible to find a person that you can live with and love for your whole life, who loves you back, and it's not just some psychological delusion.”

Alice looked at me and began to clap. “Now we're talking,” she said. I smiled. Georgia looked at us all and said, “And if Alice can believe in invisible people that mess around with poor construction workers, then I will believe that I can meet a man who not only loves me, but loves my children as well.”

Serena nodded her head. “And if Alice can believe in elves and Julie can believe in love and Georgia can believe in love a second time around, I'm going to believe that Joanna and Kip are going to get through this. And someday they're going to be happy again.”

“And what about you?” I asked.

“I believe that I'm going to find out how to be happy, too. Yes, me, too,” Serena said.

Ruby smiled and raised her bottle of water in the air. “And I'm going to believe that we're all going to be happy. We're all going to get exactly what we want and be just fine.” She took a sip of her water. “And Lexapro. I'm going to believe in that, too.”

So, in a country of Viking pagans, we all found something to believe in. But I was still inspired.

“Well then,” I said, “I'm going to take it one step further. If you all believe that we're all going to find love and be happy, then I'm going to believe in miracles—because that's what it's going to take for all this to really come true.” Everyone laughed, but I said it with complete sincerity.

“Here, here,” Alice said, raising her bottle of water. “To elves and miracles. Let's believe in them both. I mean, why not?”

We all clapped and raised our bottles in the air and agreed. “Why not?”

The plane was rolling down the runway. I was sitting on the aisle and Serena had the window seat. In front of us were Ruby and Georgia and across the aisle from me was Alice. The plane was now rattling, the sound of the wind was all around us as we started to pick up speed. It was then that I realized that with all the fogginess of being hungover and sleep-deprived, and chatting with my friends, I had forgotten to take any drugs before we took off. Besides that, I had forgotten to even bring them with me in my carry-on. I gripped the arms of my seat as the plane rattled into the air.

“I can't believe I forgot my drugs. I'm such an idiot.”

Serena looked at me, my face slowly turning white. She put her hand on my arm and whispered to me. “It's going to be okay, remember? We're all going to be okay.” The plane was now ascending, climbing into the air quietly. I nodded. “Right. Right. We're all going to be okay.” I loosened my grip a bit.

Soon, we were in the air. Serena started reading to me from
People
magazine, and every once in a while Alice would interject with some gossip she had heard about this or that celebrity. I knew what they were trying to do—they were trying to keep me entertained so I wouldn't start shrieking. It worked. For five and a half hours, no panic. Not a drop of sweat, not a gasp, nothing. I was just like any other sane passenger on this plane. I have no idea why, but maybe it was being with my friends, not feeling so alone. Or maybe it was because of the ritual we did in Iceland, where I allowed myself to let go of all my expectations about my life—maybe it included my expectation that I was going to plunge to my death. Or maybe I knew deep down that we were all going to be okay. And in the far-off chance that we weren't, that we were all going to go down in a giant ball of flames—there was nothing I or my panic was going to do to change that. I let go of everything and just flew home.

But whatever the reason, my panic was gone.

Back in the States

Two weeks later, we all got together to hear about Alice's new job back in Legal Aid. We went to Spice restaurant in Manhattan and sat in a big booth downstairs in the VIP area, thanks to, of course, Alice. She told us all about the first case she was working on, a young kid who was accused of breaking parole but had been set up by one of his friends. She was full of conviction and passion and was excited to tell us all about it. We ordered some wine for the table, but Ruby declined. She was on a new medication, and she wasn't allowed to drink alcohol with it. And she confessed: it was an antidepressant. We all broke out into applause.

“Well, thank the frickin' lord,” Alice said.

“What took you so long,” Georgia said. “I might be going to take a trip to Mr. Psychiatrist any day myself.”

“That's so amazing, Ruby. I know that was a hard decision for you!” Serena said. She had moved out of Ruby's the week before, having finally found an apartment in Park Slope.

“How do you feel?” I asked Ruby. She smiled happily.

“I feel kind of great. I have to say. Not like insanely happy or anything, just not so depressed. It just gives me a shelf. So I never really sink so low.”

“That's fantastic,” I added. And then Georgia looked at me and said, “So what are you going to do about your book?”

I grimaced and said, “I don't know yet. My publisher doesn't know I'm home, but she did just email me wondering how it was going. I don't know what to tell her.”

All the ladies looked at me, slightly concerned that I was throwing my new career down the toilet.

“But don't you think you learned so much? From meeting all those women all over the world?”

I thought about it, as I took a stab at a piece of duck on my plate.

“I'm not sure.”

After that, we went to a bar on an enclosed roof of one of the trendy hotels in the neighborhood. There was a deejay, but it wasn't crowded yet. We all piled our bags and our coats in a corner and got on the dance floor as fast as we could.

So there we all were, back in action. This time there would be no brawling, no stomach pumping, no chicken wings, no hogs, no heifers. We were all just out, opening ourselves up yet again, for one more night of adventure and fun and possibility.

The song “Baby Got Back” came on. Now, this is as fun a song to dance to as there is. We all started dancing our hearts out and shaking our “backs” and trying to sing along to the song and failing miserably at it.

I looked around at all my beautiful friends, dancing with each other. In these past two weeks I couldn't help but notice how these women all now called each other on their own, without me having anything to do with it. At dinner they teased each other and got annoyed with each other and knew exactly what was going on in each other's lives, like old friends. As Serena, Alice, Ruby, and Georgia all were laughing and shimmying and whooping it up on the dance floor, it hit me: I had finally gotten what I always dreamed of. While I was on the far side of the world, a girl posse was being born. And now here it was, fully formed, dancing up a storm in New York City.

I wondered again how I could sum up what I had learned from the amazing women all over the world. One thought kept creeping into my head—but I kept pushing it away. On the dance floor, with the music going and me feeling just the carefree abandon of being out with a bunch of my girlfriends, I was mortified even to think it. But I did feel it. I'm horrified even to type the words out now. But it hit me, hard—I am so loath to admit it. Shit. Goddamn it.

I think we are going to have to love ourselves. Fuck.

I know.
I know.
But at least let me just say, I don't mean we have to “love ourselves” in a take-a-bubble-bath-every-night kind of way. Not “love yourself” like “take yourself out to dinner once a week.” I think we have to love ourselves fiercely. Like a lioness protecting her cub. Like we are about to be attacked at any moment by a marauding gang of thugs who are out to make us feel bad about ourselves. I think we have to love ourselves as passionately as the Romans love, with joy and enthusiasm and entitlement. I think we have to love ourselves with the pride and dignity of any French woman. We have to love ourselves as if we are seventy-year-old Brazilian women dressed all in red and white parading around in the middle of a block party. Or as if we just got hit with a can of beer in our face and we have to come to our own rescue. We have to aggressively love ourselves. We practically have to stalk ourselves, that's how much energy we need to put into this. We really do have to discover our inner Viking and wear our shining armor and love ourselves as bravely as we ever thought possible. So yes, I guess we fucking do have to love ourselves. I'm
sorry.

Just as I was thinking all this, a cute guy with hair down to his shoulders walked up on the dance floor and started dancing/talking to Serena. He was wearing weird red baggy pants.

As they danced with each other, I heard Serena ask him, “Excuse me, but are your pants hemp?”