The Big "O": A Romantic Comedy (23 page)
When she thought back, she realized that this had been their writing process on the first book as well.
She’d essentially written the first draft and then Max had done a rewrite, after which they had each done a polish and then got notes from a professional editor, and comments from a couple of friends that they trusted.
Then the book had been rewritten by them both before being sent to be edited and then proofread. It had worked well, before, too. She’d been so focused on the struggle, she realized, that she'd forgotten that it would all work out.
She didn’t know why she got so worked up about him not helping her with the first draft of the new book. He was performing the way that he did in the past; a process which had worked quite successfully and hadn’t stressed her out before. She realized that she had become a terrible grump.
How big a deal would it be to ask him to help around the house, to split everything fifty-fifty so that she could take more time for herself? Sure, he was weird lately, yet he was really a decent guy. He would help more if she asked or insisted.
She looked around their home office and then at her watch.
Having some time before she needed to pick up their child, she tidied up and then jumped in the shower.
She decided, as she lathered her hair and then rinsed it carefully, that things changed—her stress levels went up dramatically—when they’d had a child.
Also, she’d never thought about or recognized that they had a very successful process for writing which worked fine. This was only their second book. All's well that ends well, she decided.
Okay, she told herself, and laughed. Don’t get ahead of yourself, there’s a lot more to be done before we go to press.
Still, she felt tremendous relief as she blew her long blond hair dry and then carefully did her makeup.
Feeling unusually positive, even knowing that her husband was hiding something or someone, named Simone, Emily put on a summer dress. She was delighted to see that the fitted floral dress, albeit everso slightly worn, finally fit well again.
She added a bit more lipstick and looked at herself in the mirror.
She smiled and almost cried to realize that she looked beautiful.
Budget be-damned, she decided, I’m getting my hair professionally cut and colored later in the week.
On the way to pick up her son, she called and made the appointment.
E
MILY, WITH BABY MAX beside her, waited for Isis at their favorite Astro Cafe coffee shop location.
She really loved the hubbub of the place and the scent of their unique coffees and baked confections.
People worked on laptops or talked on mobile phones, in little high-tech alcoves where they could charge all of their devices wirelessly, while highly caffeinated.
She stared at the brilliant cerulean blue ceiling which glittered with gold and silver stars, constellations, planets, and other celestial-themed designs.
Emily sipped her frothy icy sugar-free chocolate coffee drink while her son happily played a French word and picture matching game on his tablet.
She checked to see if her boy had drunk all of his veggie juice. He was so engrossed in his game that he had hardly touched his raw veggie snack and had only drunk a little bit of his juice.
While she waited for Isis, Emily updated all of her social networks and was pleased to see that their efforts continued to pay off. It kind of freaked her out, to see that her social posts were getting quoted by major news outlets and such.
She'd also learned, earlier that day, that their books were now in over twenty-five public libraries around the US. It was like a dream come true, really, to be clearly helping so many more people. She thanked her lucky stars, and said a prayer of gratitude.
Minutes later, Isis entered, dressed in a long white linen sleeveless shift with sexy slits on the side and a pair of fitted leggings. Her metallic gold sandals shimmered and her jewelry, a large flat necklace and earrings, were beaten gold.
The sight of her dear friend made Emily smile broadly. She watched Isis place her coffee order and then head to the table.
Isis slipped into the seat next to Emily and patted baby Max on the head. She stared at Emily who was obviously significantly fitter, and thinner, and seemed more like her cheery self.
“You look fabulous, dahlink,” Isis said and indicated the dress.
“Thanks, gorgeous. I've been working out,” Emily said happily, “and you won’t believe it… but I got the first draft of the new book done.”
“Wow,” Isis said. She noticed how adorable Emily was in her slightly out-of-date flowered dress. Her heart thrilled at the thought of creating custom designs for Emily.
“I’m getting my hair done next week, too,” Emily said, “and I haven't forgotten that you're going to help me seriously makeover my look.” It was puzzling to Isis, how quickly her friend’s face lost its sparkle and fell. It was like watching a building collapse.
“I’m so happy to hear all of your good news, ma chérie, but you seem sad. How are other things?” Isis inquired.
“Oh,” Emily said speculatively and paused dramatically, “that thing and that other thing. I don't know, actually.” She grinned and it was horrible to see her attempt to cover her raw pain with a forced smile.
“Have you thought about counseling?” Isis asked. Her chocolate eyes were wide with concern and the obvious love and compassion that her friend felt for her was Emily’s undoing. She began to weep quietly. Tears slipped down her face and she looked at her son. He was totally engrossed in his game.
“Max thinks shrinks have unresolved issues or perverse voyeuristic needs,” Emily admitted and wiped her tears away. “So, no. Not to mention, in couples therapy you actually have to have deep and honest conversations… with each other. We’re not talking right now.”
“At all?” Isis asked, horrified. How could they not be talking? They had a child together. They co-owned a business. They lived in the same house. Isis took Emily’s hand.
Emily felt so much better having cried. It was strange how therapeutic that emotional catharsis could be. One moment she was weeping and now she was smiling.
“It’s okay,” Emily said, “how are you and Edwin.”
“It’s weird, really,” Isis said, “your mentioning not talking, but I’ve been so busy I hardly have time to think of Edwin. We text a couple times and such, but I’ve been putting off our regular dates.”
“So you can forward your business?” Emily asked, radiant again.
“Yes, and weirdly,” Isis admitted, “it feels good. Sure, I miss him. I definitely love him the same but it’s like taking action upon my goals and dreams are critical at this juncture.”
“That sounds very empowering,” Emily said and laughed.
“It is, and I’m sure my credit card companies will be happy to know that how empowered I'm feeling,” Isis said.
“Pull out that look book and show me what you’re working on,” Emily invited and Isis happily complied, “and call the boutique owner.”
“Right now?” Isis said, a bit shocked. All of a sudden she felt hyper-nervous. Calm down, she told herself, he asked you to call him.
“Right now, while we’re here and I can support you,” Emily said.
Isis pulled out her smart phone and the business card that the boutique owner had given her. She hesitated for a second. Emily grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
“Here goes something,” Isis said and her heart beat faster and faster as she dialed. For a moment, as the phone rang, she felt terror. Then Roberto answered and her terror became exhilaration.
“Hello, Roberto, this is Isis. I bumped into you while wearing one of my own designs and you expressed interest in my clothing line... then we texted a couple of times. Do you recall meeting me?” Isis said into her cell phone and then paused.
“You do? Wonderful,” she purred and paused again.
“Of course, I’d love to. If you shoot me your email I can send you the location. Tomorrow would be fantastic,” she paused again, then said, “Great. I’ll look forward to it.”
Dazed, she hung up her cell phone.
“What? What?” Emily asked with excitement.
“He’s coming by my home studio tomorrow,” Isis said, her heart beating wildly, “he remembered me and has been waiting for my call. He’s terribly excited.”
“That’s fantastic,” Emily said.
“Of course,” Isis said hurriedly, “he probably won’t place an order but I’m so excited.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Emily said firmly, “He may buy. Don’t think that he won’t in advance or it could affect your pitch.”
Isis nodded. That made a great deal of sense. Her eyes shone.
“Listen, I’ll have to show you my book later. Right now I just want to get back to work and finish up a few things for that meeting with Roberto. Okay?” Isis asked.
“Absolutely,” Emily said, “call me when you’re through, okay, gorgeous?”
“Mais oui,” Isis said, then stood and kissed Emily and Max Jr. Good-bye.
Before she left, she turned back to face Emily and spoke.
“Emily, I can't thank you enough for your coaching. It made all the difference, I would never have called Roberto today,” Isis said. Emily blew her a kiss and baby Max waved good-bye.
Emily felt incredibly happy about her work with Isis. She smiled and felt uplifted and energized all the way home. When she reached the house, she took baby Max inside. Curiously, her husband was actually home.
She found that she didn’t want talk to him at all. She decided that she would pull a Max.
She’d leave the toddler with him and go right back out.
As she walked in the door, her hair stylist rang. She could hardly believe it, there was a cancellation and she could have her hair done right then, if she left that instant.
“Hey, babe,” she said to Max. He stood up from the couch and she immediately handed over their child and the bag of kid’s stuff. Surprised, he looked down at the bag.
Max Jr. squealed with joy.
“I’ve got an appointment,” she said and turned to leave.
“Well, is it urgent? Cause I was going to go to Victor’s for a couple of hours and help him with this thing,” her husband said.
“It’s urgent,” Emily stated, then added, “Oh, the first draft of the manuscript is done and Kathryn loves it. You might want to get started on the rewrite.” She pulled the manuscript from her shoulder tote and handed it to him.
“Uh, okay,” Max said and struggled to juggle the baby, the kid’s stuff, and the thick printed manuscript, “It’s really done?”
Emily grinned to hear Max sounding so stunned.
She looked at her watch, gasped, then hurried to the door.
“Seriously, Kathryn loves the first draft and the marketing plan, do your bit and then we’ll see if Edwin will give us some feedback but I really have to go right now to make my appointment.”
Closing the oor behind her, Emily quickly left, but not before her husband noticed that she was full-on. She had her confidence back and she even looked like her old self. He could see that she had lost weight. She was in a dress, for Chrissakes.
Oh, my God, he thought to himself, unable to prevent a recurrence of his recent fear. Could Emily be meeting someone? He felt ill at the thought and sank onto the couch.
The sound of children's laughter echoed on the playground.
Max carried his son, and all of the child’s paraphernalia: snacks, an extra set of clothes, baby wipes, a juice cup, and more, over to the sandbox.
It’s funny, Max realized. It was soothing to be here.
Max dropped all of the stuff on the ground and got into the box with his son. They sat on the sand.
Max looked around at the over-sized metal toy trucks, bulldozers, and other playthings that remained in the sandbox.
His child showed zero interest in the sandbox toys and pulled several Star Wars characters out of his pocket.
Max Jr. moved the tiny figurines in the sand; he gathered stones and twigs and made a little set, a world of his own creation, for the characters to move about in.
He was astonished to realize that Emily had pulled through. He was practically immobilized by fear and in deep therapy, constantly focused on Victor’s big problem, because if he were honest with himself, worrying about Vic's issues distracted him from his own.
Meanwhile, Emily was getting her shit together. She somehow was finding her sense of self, looking more and more beautiful.
My wife is a beautiful woman, he thought, and so smart. It made him feel overwhelmed. He felt both grateful and afraid. It was weird.
He noticed that when he focused upon feeling gratitude that his heart opened and he felt joy.
He noticed that when he focused upon the fear, he felt ill and afraid and his entire body and being contracted tightly. I’ve got to learn to focus on the positive, he realized, or I could lose everything I love.
“I'm afraid mommy will be upset if I tell her about my therapist,” Max whispered.
Baby Max made his Yoda action figure fly.
“Fear… path to dark side," babbled his child, quoting Yoda. Max thought a minute, trying to understand this incredible wisMax… from his toddler.
Max felt amazed. A tear slipped from his eyes.
"Fear
is
the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering," he said. He realized that he’d wanted to wash his issues away, avoid them, and had been ignoring his wife.
Ironic didn’t begin to cover it: him helping Victor learn to please his wife and his own inability to take care of Emily’s needs.
I’m a selfish person, when I’m caught up in my fear, he realized. I’ll have to somewhere learn to focus on the light, goodness, what I have to be grateful for, and strive for the good.
He picked his child up.
“My little Yoda,” Max said.
Emily knocked on Victor and Juliette’s front door.
Juliette answered the door and was instantly stunned to see how Emily’s long blond hair, freshly cut and colored, made her look radiant and more polished, glamorous even.
“Oh, wow,” Juliette said, “you’ve just come from the salon.”
Emily smiled and nodded and they entered the house and went straight to the kitchen.
“They did a great job,” Emily said as Juliette put the kettle on the stove to boil some water and make them both a cup of tea.
“I should definitely get mine done, after I’ve defended my dissertation,” Juliette said and touched her long dark hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail.
“You’ve finished? That’s brilliant,” Emily said, “you must be so relieved.” Emily knew that Juliette had been utterly exhausted by the intensive multi-year experience of graduate school.
“Not quite finished… in the home stretch, though. I’ve gotten notes from my first and second reader and, with a bit more editing, I’m almost done,” Juliette replied.
“Well, congratulations, Dr. Devereux,” Emily said.
“Not quite, Dr. Devereux, yet,” Juliette said and laughed.
“Where’s Victor?” Emily asked. Juliette smiled and rolled her eyes.
“Oh, he’s off somewhere reading and researching how to perform better in bed,” Juliette finally admitted.
The kettle whistled and Juliette stood up and poured the hot water to steep a pot of tea.
“Oh, okay,” Emily said and laughed, “I definitely admire his perseverance. Max brought home some of his research materials. I believe the boys are under the impression that you’re oblivious to their quest.”
“Right,” Juliette said, “as if I could ignore their furtive basement meetings and Victor’s home-study course in the art of pleasing your woman.”
“Has he gotten any better?” Emily asked.
“Not hardly, but then we honestly haven’t had time to practice, with me being so close to finishing my degree.” Juliette replied.
Juliette poured them each a cup of tea and then pushed a pale yellow pottery plate of dark chocolate covered oat cookies toward Emily. Emily shook her head, to indicate no.
“No, thanks,” Emily said, “I’m really watching what I eat, right now. I know you’ll work things out.”
“I’m sure you’re right. How about you and the man? Has anything changed?” Juliette asked Emily. Emily sipped her hot tea.
“I think we have a serious problem,” Emily admitted.
“What?” Juliette asked.
“I believe he's screwing around… maybe to avoid dealing with his insecurities, I really don’t know, maybe to avoid dealing with his mortality,” Emily said desperately to Juliette.
“Well, he wouldn't be the first,” Juliette said.
“I feel selfish, unloading on you. Are you stressed out of your mind?” Emily said.
“Worried about my oral defense a little. Too tired, I guess,” Juliette said.
Emily found that tears slipped down her face again. She felt like she was turning into a real emotional basket case, weeping every day.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Emily said.
“Have you heard of the worst case scenario process?” Juliette asked.
Emily thought and couldn’t remember any such process. She grinned and wiped away a tear.
“No, not really,” Emily said.
“It’s easy,” Juliette said, “we admit to ourselves and each other the worst thing that could possibly happen. It diffuses the emotional upset, frees up our creativity, and allows us to deal with our concerns logically. Right now you’re stuck in a limbic system, reptilian brain, panic.”
“So I just say my worst fears about the situation aloud?” Emily asked.
“Exactement, as Isis would say,” Juliette answered.
“Okay,” said Emily and wiped away a tear, “you go first.” Juliette laughed.
“Alright,” she said and paused to think, “okay, I’m worried… that my research lacks clarity, that it does not bring anything exceptional to the field, and that the committee will be unimpressed or possibly… worst case scenario… that I won’t receive my PhD.”
Juliette found that she felt pure horror as she explored, identified and named her formerly subconscious fears. It would be horrible if any of those things were true.
“;So,” Emily said, “how would you resolve any of those potential worst case scenarios?”
“I would revisit my research, extend my study, take more time to review and clarify my results, and talk with my adviser and readers, and work with the committee, until I met or exceeded their expectation,” Juliette said.
She felt incredible relief to realize that it would all work out. She really could take more time and get as much input as she needed. For that matter, she recognized that there were some interesting results from her study.
She almost laughed and cried at the same time to realize that she had secretly feared that she had nothing positive to contribute. Well, well, well, she said to herself, I have my own self-worth issues.
How ironic. All this while, as Victor had struggled with issues of sexuality and intimacy, she was struggling with her own issues of intellectual inadequacy and worth.
“Now, your turn,” Juliette said to Emily.
“Oh, okay,” Emily said and then, like Juliette had, took a moment to really consider what her worst case scenario fears were.
“Here goes,” Emily began, “I’m terrified that my husband no longer loves me, that I’ll be a single mom, that I won’t be able to pay my bills or properly care for my child…” tears slid down her cheeks.
“Anything else?” Juliette asked softly.
“Uh, that… my child could be taken from me, by Max, or social services… or that I’ll barely get by and little Max and I will be homeless.”
“You don’t need to worry about that,” Juliette said.
“You don’t know that,” Emily said and began to cry, “I don’t know what I’m going to do… if he’s got someone else, if it’s just me and the little guy, I don’t know what to do. How will I keep the house? Maybe that’s a stupid question. How will I afford to live?”
“Listen, Emily, I’m not saying that you don’t need to think about these things… it’s reasonable to think about income vs. expenditures and design one’s life… what I’m saying is that you and the little guy would come here because there is no way that Victor and I would let you guys be on the street,” Juliette said.
“Seriously?” Emily asked, incredulous.
“Seriously. We continue to talk about finishing the basement. Right now, Victor uses it for his man cave, but if you needed a place to stay, it would be with us. We’d finish the garage for him, finish the basement as a kind of mother-in-law-suite, and replace the backyard shed with an office,” Juliette said.
“An office in the backyard?” Emily asked, confused.
“Sure, we keep talking about it. That way we could reclaim the den, which Vic is now using for his home office. So, technically, if you guys were moving in we’d end up with more space.”
“So, I guess,” Emily said, and thought a bit more, “worst-case scenario, I wouldn’t have enough money but could get a day job. A recruiter’s been calling me, anyway. I might need therapy if I’m getting divorced, because I really love Max and it would be devastating, but with a place to stay and a day job… it would probably all work out.”
“Right!” Juliette said brightly, “It probably would… plus I know that Isis and Edwin and Victor would all be supportive. None of us would want you guys to split, yet we would love you all three the same.”
Emily laughed and cried at the same time and thanked her lucky stars that her worst-case scenario wasn’t so bad after all.
Then, perhaps because of the seriousness of the moment, Emily and Juliette both found themselves crying and laughing and experiencing a strange and almost exhilarating emotional release.
