Unscripted (11 page)

“Okay,” Stephanie says gravely as she pours a packet of Splenda into her cup. “I recognized a few things. But they’re just fragments. He changed it all around to suit his story. Like the scene in the beginning, when it was raining and they got locked out of the house. In the movie, it ended in a big fight. That’s not how it really happened, right?”

I take a breath. “Right, it was at his apartment in Los Feliz. We stood outside for a half an hour until his drunk landlord finally let us in.” And we made out the entire time on the front doorstep. It was like something out of a movie. Just not this movie. I stare down at my coffee. “Oh, and I also got the vanilla wafer treatment,” I add. “I wonder how many girlfriends he’s done that for.”

In the movie, when the guy finally leaves the bad girlfriend, he spells out “I love you” in vanilla wafers on the model’s bed. When I was wafered, it was the first time he ever told me he loved me. In cookies. I totally fell for it. Idiot.

“Oh God, mortifying.” I cover my face with my hands. “Everyone who knew us is going to think that this is about me.” I take a gulp of my latte and the heat of it burns a path down my throat.

“What are you talking about? You’re nothing like that character.”

“I know,” I say distractedly. Sure, she was an over-the-top caricature of a needy girl, so outrageous that I should be able to hide in anonymity behind the cartoon version of me. For one,
I never buried his car keys in the backyard or caressed his face while he faked being asleep. But there were a few scenes that were spot on, embarrassing moments I would never confess to anyone, shining on the big screen for the world to see. Things you do when your relationship is slipping away. Like 2:00 a.m. cell-phone stalking after a fight, drive-bys and the crazy crying/yelling/begging parade as he walks out the door.

“It’s a movie, and a shit one at that. All he did was take a bunch of pieces from his life and throw them into a script. It means nothing.” Stephanie gingerly places her coffee cup on the table.

“That, uh, sex thing didn’t really happen, did it?”

My face flushes red. There was a montage in the movie where the needy, whiny girlfriend wouldn’t have sex for three months because she’d gained four pounds. “No. That was complete bullshit.” It was ten pounds, two weeks and I was pissed at him for flirting with a waitress.

“Do you think he was cheating on you?”

“I don’t know. He just said he wanted to see other people,” I say, my voice quavering.

“Bullshit, he was fucking someone else the whole time.”

I rub my forehead.
Hmm, maybe I should have brought Nancy.
Not too sure I need the tough-love act right now. I take the lid off my latte and blow on it. “Well, regardless. It was a long time ago.”

“How can you be so calm? He butchered you. He made it look like the fault was entirely yours.”

“Hey, I thought you said it wasn’t based on me?”

“Well, Christ. You have to admit, there were some similarities. The Nutella, for one.”

“I would never eat a jar of Nutella with my finger. That’s disgusting.” A spoon, yes, but finger-dipped, saliva-flavored Nutella loses its appeal.

“I can’t believe how well you’re taking this. If my ex did this to me, I’d hunt him down, cut off his dick and beat him to death with it.”

With that, an older woman eating a muffin at the table next to us scowls and turns her chair in disgust. Stephanie and I cover our mouths and giggle like teenagers.

I don’t even know how I feel. He twisted everything. He most likely cheated on me. Our entire relationship was a lie. And the one and only person I ever loved just rubbed my face into a big pile of dirt and made a lot of money out of it.

“Look, he’s a fucking asshole. He’ll get his one day, what comes around goes around.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe he will. Maybe he won’t. Fuck it. I’m hungry. Can we go get some lunch and an adult beverage?”

Stephanie’s face lights up. “You know I never say no to food and alcohol. So are you okay? Do you regret seeing it?”

The real question is, what’s more upsetting, the fact he skewered me for fodder or that he’s a successful screenwriter now? It’s a toss-up.

“No, I don’t regret it,” I say as I follow Stephanie outside. “But I’m ready to stuff those pesky emotions down with some emotional eating right about now.”

Yawning, I hit the power button on my MacBook Pro and wait for the gray apple to flutter to life. Last night I had an attack of the Sunday blues, so it took me hours to fall asleep. When I finally went under, the precious moments of unconsciousness were ruined by nightmares. I was trapped in Matt’s movie and everyone was laughing at me.

I sign on to IM, instantly getting a hit from Nancy:

I can’t believe I just said yes to Nancy’s goddess party, whatever the hell that even means. She probably needs a little “misery loves company.” Who knows, maybe I need to open my eyes to different experiences. Maybe this will be a good thing.

“Hey, how was your weekend?” asks Christine as she plops her computer down on her desk.

“Hmm, well, it was okay. How about yours?”

“It was good. Wait! Did you see it?”

Oh crap.
That’s what sucks about such close working quarters. You hear every detail of each other’s lives.

“Yeah, it pretty much sucked.”

“Really? It looks so cute. Why did it suck?”

I stifle a whimper. “Well, he basically took parts of our relationship and twisted them into a sick little knot. I don’t come off too well. Not that it’s based on me at all, but if it were, I don’t come off too well.”

“Are you serious? Holy shit. That’s insane.” Christine’s mouth is open so wide I can see her fillings. “But there’s a movie out there about you. I mean, isn’t the saying something like imitation is the best form of flattery?”

“Not in this case. He totally demonizes me.”

“Who demonizes you?” asks a deep voice coming from behind my desk. I turn to look, and see Will casually leaning against the wall, taking a sip of his coffee. Oh, God, this is bad. I don’t want a lot of people in the office knowing about this. Especially Will. Ugh. He’s smiling that cute crooked smile at me and now I’m feeling all nervous and sweaty. What the hell?

Before I can give Christine the evil eye, my own personal sign language for
open your mouth and die,
she’s already beginning to blab.

“You know that movie
It’s Not Me, It’s You?
Abby’s ex-boyfriend wrote it and it’s based on her.”

Oh, come on!
I clear my throat. “He didn’t base it on me at all. He just used a couple of things that happened between us and then twisted them and made up some other stuff and then made the girl completely crazy and then there’s this other girl who he cheats with and then that’s the end.”
Somebody put me out of my misery here.

“I saw it last weekend. Terrible movie.”

I crack my first smile of the day. “Frankly, I was bored,” I joke.

“So the second girlfriend, the model, she was based on you, right? Well, she didn’t do you justice.” He gives me a little wink and walks away.

I feel all of the blood in my body rush to my face.

“That was so sweet!” Christine squeals.

“He was just trying to make me feel better.”

“Mmm hmm,” Christine says, disappearing toward the kitchen.

I am not going to make this more than what it is. I was feeling down. He’s my boss. He felt bad for me. He doesn’t want it to affect my work. And that is that. Hmm, maybe I should go and put on some lipstick?

Nine hours later I’m standing in front of Nancy’s door, cursing myself for giving in so easily.

“I am so happy you’re here!” Nancy gushes as she wraps me in a hug. “You are going to absolutely love this.”

“Hmm. We’ll see. How did I let you talk me into this again?”

“You will be transformed, I promise you.”

I step inside the impeccably neat apartment and follow Nancy to her bedroom. Every candle, picture frame, vase and book is situated in such a way that it makes you feel like you’ve just stepped into a Pottery Barn store.

I plop myself onto her bed while she goes to the mirror to put the finishing touches on her makeup.

“Are you sure you’re doing okay?” she asks, clearly referring again to Matt’s movie.

“I’m fine. I’m over it.” I’m not in the mood to get into a full-on therapy session with Nancy about this, so I quickly change the subject.

“So what happened with you and yoga guy?”

Nancy stops applying her lipstick and looks at herself in the mirror, as if analyzing the question.

“I’ve thought about it a lot, and I just don’t think he was ready for an adult relationship. Now, that’s not to say that we won’t somehow find each other again, somewhere down the line, but he’s not in the same place as I am.”

“Wait, so you’re saying that if he ever wanted to get back together, you’d take him back?” I ask, shaking my head. I adore Nancy, but her optimism frustrates me. She gives everyone the benefit of the doubt, especially those who don’t deserve it.

“You never know. I believe Tim and I are somehow intrinsically tied together. Maybe from a past life, and we’re still trying to work out the problems we had from back then.”

Grrr.
“Nancy, he broke up with you in a text message. He is clearly an ass.”

“He’s just scared. He doesn’t know himself yet. But he’s a good man deep down.”

I decide to let the matter drop. There’s no reasoning with Nancy once she’s set her mind to something.

“So how are things going with Will?” Nancy asks, putting on her shoes.

“Things are, well, I think they’re good. It turns out, Stephanie was right. He didn’t even remember me.”

Nancy smiles. “See, I told you to just talk it out and it would all be fine.”

No. Actually, she told me that he was a wounded little bird that I had hurt. But I’ll keep that one to myself.

“So, are you ready to go?” she asks, popping up to grab her keys.

“Mmm hmm,” I say, trying hard not to sound negative.

“This is going to be so much fun,” she cheers.

“Mmm hmm.”

I follow Nancy to her friend Mia’s house, one of those picturesque Venice beach cottages by the canals. We ring the bell and the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in person greets us. She’s tall with flowing long blond hair and huge blue eyes. Her skin is perfect. Not one spot, scar or dark circle to be found and she’s not even wearing an ounce of makeup. It’s the kind of beauty where you hope she turns out to be a bitch, so at least there’s some flaw. But because she’s Nancy’s friend, I suspect it’s not to be.

“Hello, love!” Mia says with a crisp, British accent.

“Hi.” Nancy kisses her on the cheek. “Mia, I’d like you to meet my friend, Abby.” Nancy looks at her meaningfully.

“Oh, so this is Abby. It’s good to finally meet you.” Mia positively beams as she pulls me into the living room. “Ladies, this is Nancy’s friend, Abby.”

In the span of two minutes, I am hugged, kissed and generally groped by fifteen strange women. Some, like Mia, look like they just walked off the runway. Others have that flowy skirt, big jewelry, new-agey look about them. And a few, surprisingly, are dressed, as my mother would say, for a night on the town.

“Have a drink,” Mia enthuses as she hands me a glass of wine.

“Thanks,” I say, taking a huge sip. “Your house is amazing.” It’s a Craftsman, a style that I personally love. The furniture is modern, but the room is accented with colorful Eastern art. I glance doubtfully at my red wine. Mental note:
Stay away from the white sofa.

“We are so blessed,” Mia says. “Do you smell the sea? It’s so clean here. Just breathe in the air.”

“Mmm.” I inhale deeply and smile. All I smell is jasmine-scented candles and some kind of curry coming from the kitchen.

“See,” Nancy whispers. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

I raise my eyebrow and take another sip of my wine.

“So, I think everyone is here now.” Mia stands in the center of the room, places her hands together at the middle of her chest and bows. “Namaste.”

The group responds, “Namaste.”

Mia continues, “I think we should start off by sharing a recent revelation and describing our intent for the evening. I’ll go first.”

Oh, son of a bitch.
I’m going to kill Nancy. I turn and scowl at her but she’s staring straight ahead, pretending she can’t feel my death glare.

“I’m sure you all remember the difficulty I had in our last session. But I have to say, ever since, I have felt so clear. I’ve cut the cords to all of that negativity and I’m ready to accept the abundance of the universe. I’ve been buzzing this whole week. I can feel the energy flowing, so tonight I want to manifest my dreams.” She shakes her head and laughs. “Tonight, I
will
manifest my dreams.”

Everyone laughs and claps. I’ve only been here ten minutes and I’ve never wanted to leave a place more. Would it be bad form to run screaming from the room?

A woman wearing a plain white cotton dress and a pink wrap steps to the center of the room. “I know in the past you’ve accused me of bringing negativity to the group…”

Ruh roh.
Wait ’til they get a load of me.

“But I’ve done a lot of meditating this month and I finally accept that my soul wanted to teach me all of those painful lessons. So I’m not going to fight my soul contract any longer. I’m going to embrace it and take in what the universe is teaching me.”

More claps and hugs all around as more women share their revelations.

When the hell are we going to eat?

I stand there with a huge fake smile plastered on my face as more women talk about
spirit
and
buzzing
and
creating
and
life paths
and
energy
and
empowerment
and
mastery.
It’s like they’re speaking Mandarin.

I don’t know if I can listen to this for much longer. Plus, my wineglass has been empty for thirty minutes, so I don’t even have alcohol to console me.

Nancy walks to the center of the room, avoiding eye contact with me entirely. “Hi, everyone. The last few weeks have been very powerful for me. I am just so grateful for this group of women. Because of what I’ve learned here, I was able to embrace the truth and love myself more than I ever thought I could. I truly feel that my heart is open now and I am ready to receive love and joy.”

She’s so hopeful and vulnerable that it almost makes me want to cry. I can see that these women are sweet and genuine and that they are actually trying to change their lives. More power to them. It’s just not for me.

“And another blessing is that my friend Abby finally agreed to come here,” Nancy adds, smiling at me. The whole group turns toward me.

Do they expect me to speak? I am not going to speak. I’m a newbie. Newbies don’t have to speak. I’m putting my foot down. I am not speaking.

“Abby, what are your impressions so far? Do you have anything you want to share tonight?” Nancy clasps her hands behind her back.

She’s dead to me.

“I’m just taking it all in,” I say with a big fake smile. They’re all staring at me, expecting more. “And, uh, dinner smells good.”

Everyone laughs as if to say,
oh, foolish mortal, you do not understand our ways.

I try to grab Nancy but she’s conveniently made her way across the room and is now engrossed in conversation, safe from choking distance.

Mia heads to the kitchen and announces that dinner will be ready in forty-five minutes. That’s forty-five minutes further away from my departure time.
Let’s get a move on, people.

The doorbell rings and Mia glides over to answer it. “Jacques, hello!” Mia says as she hugs the creepy-looking old man standing in the doorway. He has stringy long hair and is wearing a polyester shirt with a giant purple butterfly on it. He holds out a bunch of wilting daisies to Mia.

“I know it’s your woman’s evening so I wanted to give you all a gift.”

Creepy Jacques walks over to the fireplace, holds out his arms and, to my disbelief, breaks into song. I think it’s in Italian. Or Spanish? Or Italian and Spanish? Or more likely some kind of creepy twaddle that he’s inventing as he goes.

It’s the most awkward, surreal thing I have ever witnessed. His face is tight with concentration, his voice is wobbly and hoarse from what’s got to be fifty years of smoking, and he’s moving his arms like he’s conducting an orchestra.