The Break-Up Diet: A Memoir (31 page)

Verbalizing my thoughts to Steven made them so much clearer to me. I'd never really know if I had uncovered the real reason from Kevin's point of view as to why the relationship failed. But to me, it felt like the final puzzle piece snapping perfectly into place.

“How can you be sure you're ready for a serious relationship with me?” he asked.

“Because I have absolutely no feelings of anxiety or any hesitation about committing myself to you. And I don't have any sense of unease about your ability to commit to me,” I said.

It felt strange to spell it out, but somehow freeing at the same time.

Steven seemed satisfied by my answers.

We curled together on the bed, wrapped in an embrace. I snuggled the top of my head under Steven's chin and tucked my forehead against his chest.

His questions had challenged me to consider my intimate beliefs. In my everyday life, I thought of myself as a realist, grounded by rational thought. Hereditary. Thanks, Mom. But in romance, I felt more like I channeled the rosy spirit of Pollyanna. Complete idealism. That sensibility came straight from Dad.

I'd always entered into relationships with one-hundred percent trust. Trust in the guy's honesty, fidelity, and good intentions. No matter how many times I experienced the rug-pull of disillusionment, it never changed my nature. I wanted to believe I'd find happily-ever-after.

I knew women who, after being thrown from a relationship, would spend years in fear, feeding their bitterness, before they'd make another attempt to get back on the horse. Even when they did, they'd continue to pick at their festering emotions, never really moving on and letting them heal.

No matter where this relationship led, I knew I never wanted to be that kind of person.

bye-bye bump and grind

Friday, February 7

Music pounded through the speakers and filled the club with a rhythm heavy with bass.

Congratulations!

Happy Retirement!

You Go, Girl!

The three Mylar balloons bumped together at the top of a rainbow balloon bouquet. Tracer lights and canisters with multi-colored gels blinked patterns onto the main stage and occasionally swiveled, casting on the floor around our table.

I slid a fingernail under the flap of the greeting card and read the scrawled messages of well wishes from Heather, Bonita, and Valerie.

“Thank you, girlies,” I said.

Heather was closest, so I leaned to hug her first. “I'm so glad you're finally out of here,” she said, hugging me tightly and rocking back and forth.

Over Heather's shoulder, I noticed a group of guys sitting at the next table, eyeing us. I couldn't help but read their expressions. If the guys were writing the stage directions, we'd be on the floor naked, wrestling in cherry Jell-O.

Bonita was next to embrace me. “Now that you found your prince, you can live happily-ever-after,” she said.

“I think you got lucky. What are the chances of actually meeting a decent guy in a strip club?” Valerie raised her hand to wave at a passing waitress.

“We need some shots over here!” she called out.

Sunshine balanced a round tray full of empty Budweiser 40s, her elbow wedged into the hip of her black vinyl pants. “What can I get for you ladies?” she asked.

“Lemon Drop.”

“Lemon Drop.”

“Lemon Drop.”

Valerie, Bonita, and Heather called out like a canyon echo.

“Not me, I'll have—”

Sunshine lifted her free hand and shook her head, sending her long, red hair swinging against her shoulders. “Don't even say it. I know, the usual. I'll tell Rick to make the Beth Special.”

“You are so Jack Nicholson in that movie
As Good As It Gets,
” Heather laughed.

“We're going to miss you, Beth.” Sunshine's arm snaked around my neck for a quick hug. “I'll be right back with the drinks.”

When Sunshine left, Jaimee approached the table. Her tiny, black, boy shorts and bikini top showed off her toned body. I could feel the tension from the other girls checking her out. But she ignored them completely. “Hey Beth, congrats on escaping this dump. I guess that means you'll be writing a lot now, huh?”

“That's my plan anyway.” I smiled and stood to hug her. “I'm going to miss working with you though. Let's still get together and do stuff.”

She moved out of the embrace. “Yeah, okay,” she said, shrugging. “I need to go make some money.”

After Jaimee walked away, the other girls were quiet until Valerie spoke. “Did you see her implants? You could drive a truck between them.”

Before anyone else joined the shred session, I stepped in. “She's really nice. And she just doesn't have any body fat, that's why they look a little different.”

Valerie, Bonita, and Heather all had implants and fuller figures. They'd never be described as athletic looking like Jaimee often was.

Heather changed the subject to relieve the awkward standoff between Valerie and me. “So, Steven must be pretty serious if he's offering to take care of you and Josh.”

Sunshine returned and moved around the table, setting down each of the drinks.

Bonita leaned forward in her chair. “When do you think he's going to ask you to marry him?”

“I don't know,” I shrugged and reached for my glass.

“I can't believe you don't have to work anymore.” Valerie reached to pick up her shot. “Must be nice.” She tossed it back and clunked the glass onto the tabletop.

I looked around the club. It pulsed with its own sexual energy. The red lights over the tables cast a flattering glow and the mirrored walls made the room look bigger than it really was. Guys and girls sat in black padded chairs around low cocktail tables, drinking and chatting.

I could almost see the curtain coming down and the credits rolling on this part of my life. Six years. I never planned to work in a strip club that long, but the money was good and somehow the years flew by. It felt strange to look around at everything that had become so familiar and know that I wasn't coming back. Ever.

lions and tigers and bearer bonds, oh my!

Wednesday, February 12

Josh and I finished the tram ride around the San Diego Wild Animal Park and set off to explore the rest of the exhibits on foot. I designed our mother/son date to incorporate a science field trip and a photography lesson to teach him how to use my Canon 35mm camera.

“Let's go see the big cats first,” I suggested, glancing at the colorful map in my hand.

Josh was too busy looking at everything we passed to care where I led the tour. Right up until he saw the sign.

“Gorillas! Let's go see those. The sign says it's right over here.” He pointed down a path in the opposite direction.

“Fine with me.” I followed him as he raced ahead.

After the mock jungle trek, I leaned against the rail to read the placard of information aloud, while Josh mugged and aped the motions of the giant primates. Then I recalled an unusual fact I had heard about gorillas: the males had a two-inch penis when fully erect. No wonder they were always beating their chests. It must be to distract the females from the disappointment. I wasn't sure where I had picked up that little zoological gem, but I decided against sharing that bit of trivia with Josh.

Once he was done snapping pictures and the novelty of the gorillas wore off, Josh turned to me with an urgent look. “Mom, I am soooo starving right now. Can we eat before we do anything else?”

I consulted the map for directions, and soon we sat at tables in the Mombasa Island Cooker area. I handed Josh twenty dollars to buy me a salad, and a burger and drink for himself.

It wasn't my twenty. It was Steven's. He'd left a stack of bills on my desk after we returned from dinner the night before.

“You and Josh have a date tomorrow, don't you?” He had opened his wallet. “How much do you think you'll need?”

I felt weird, like I was some sort of charity case. I wasn't used to being financially dependent on anyone, especially not a man. Funny, it was usually the other way around. I had no problem offering monetary help to guys in the past, without so much as a second thought, but accepting it… That was a completely different story.

“How about a hundred? Is that enough for tickets, parking and food? What do you think?” Steven had peeled off the bills.

“Yeah, that's fine. That's more than enough,” I'd said.

Josh returned with the food and handed me the change. It was only a few coins. I stared at it in my hand and felt like maybe we should have brought a backpack with sandwiches and drinks from home.

“This was too expensive,” I said, staring at my salad.

Josh looked at me like I'd uttered something totally absurd. “Well, that's how much it always costs,” he said.

What a completely bizarre feeling. When it was my money, it just didn't matter. I'd spend it like I had a printing press in the garage. But now that it belonged to someone else…

I decided I needed to tell Josh about the financial decision Steven and I had made. He needed to know our spending habits were going to change.

I watched him bite into his burger and tried to think of a good way to start the conversation. But I couldn't come up with one.

“I quit my job,” I said.

Josh's eyes grew wide. “Are you going to get another one? What are we going to do for money?”

“Steven offered to take financial responsibility for us while I focus on finishing my book.”

“Oh.” Josh seemed relieved there wasn't a problem. “So, what does that mean?”

“That means he's going to pay for the bills and the things we need until I sell my book.” Then I'm going to pay him back, I thought to myself. “Until then, I don't want you to ask him for anything. Come to me and I'll decide if we need it. Okay?”

“Okay.” He shrugged and took another bite of his burger. “Can we see the lions and tigers next?”

a quiet change of heart

Sunday, February 23

A lazy Sunday. Steven and I watched Josh's little league baseball practice and then spent the day lounged on the couch with a marathon of my favorite Bob Hope and Bing Crosby DVDs.
Road to Morocco
.
Road to Zanzibar
.
Road to Bali
.

I wasn't up for much. My period had arrived like a freight train. By the evening, my Ibuprofen intake reached 3000 milligrams and I was retaining more water than a Sparkletts truck.

I noticed Steven staring at me.

“What?” I asked with listless irritation.

“I don't think you're happy.” He looked at me seriously, unblinking.

A sick, sinking feeling landed in the pit of my stomach. A knot pinched the back of my throat and tears tingled behind my eyes. Kevin had said the exact same thing a week before he broke up with me.

My head began to throb. No. This can't be happening again. I could feel the tension in my forehead drawing my eyebrows together.

Steven continued. “It just doesn't seem like you're happy with your life,” he said. “I think we're spending too much time together.”

Kevin had tried to blame me for his desire to leave too. Why did they always do that? Why couldn't they just say
they
weren't happy?

I closed my eyes and tears spilled down my cheeks. I couldn't say anything then; I couldn't say anything now.

“Why are you crying?” Steven brushed his fingertips across the path of my tears.

“If you're going to break up with me, just do it and get it over with, don't try to make it sound like I'm the one who's not happy.”

“What are you talking about?” Steven looked completely puzzled.

“You're doing it the same way Kevin did. Before he broke up with me, he tried to tell me I wasn't happy.”

“Is that what you think I'm doing?” Steven shook his head and looked directly into my face.

“Well, aren't you?” My tears ran freely.

He gathered my hands together and held them cupped between his.

“My intention,” he began slowly, “was to see if you'd like to take a few days alone at a hotel so you could write uninterrupted by me or Josh.”

I exhaled a deep, shaky breath. Oh. I guess I win the Olympic gold medal for the long jump to conclusions.

“Don't be such a head basket. I wasn't planning to break up with you.” Steven pulled me into a hug.

“Head case or basket case, not head basket.” I started to laugh through my tears. “A head basket is what they use with a guillotine.” I hugged him back tightly, still laughing. “I love you. God, I love you so much.”

Steven pulled away from the embrace and held my shoulders to look into my eyes. “Someday I'll tell you to look up and then you'll know exactly how much I love you.”

escape from the oc matrix

Saturday, March 15

As I packed my bags, I smiled at how it had all come about.

“I have a surprise for you.” Steven led me to the couch and sat me down. He reached around to his jeans back pocket, removed a long envelope, and handed it to me.

I pulled out two folded sheets of paper and noticed the word eTicket at the top of the pages. It was better than the best ride at Disneyland: it was two tickets to St. Barthelemy. I had no idea where that was, but it meant we were flying somewhere.

Steven must've seen my perplexed expression. “It's in the French West Indies,” he said.

I didn't have the heart to tell him I didn't really like Indian food.

“St. Bart. The Caribbean,” he continued until he saw my light of recognition.

When he said, “Caribbean,” I smiled broadly. “Okay, so geography wasn't my best subject.” I shrugged, a little embarrassed.

Now, I knew exactly where it was. I had spent the week on the Internet looking up anything I could find about the tiny island paradise, and I couldn't wait to get there. It would be the first real vacation I'd ever had.

Josh was far less excited. “Noooo. I don't want to go to Grandma's. It's boring as dirt out there. We never do anything or go anywhere.”

“C'mon buddy, give me a break. At least you could be happy for me.”

“I am happy for you,” he said. “I'd just be happier if I was going too.”

I gave him a quick hug. “I need you to help me out and take care of the dogs for me.”