Jeremy laughed. “Don’t be sorry! But why don’t you go out? See some friends? Not me, no offense. I already told you what tonight is about.”
“Yep, not interested in cockblocking your date with your wife,” Everett said with a sigh.
“At least go get some sleep or something,” Jeremy said.
“Will do, Jeremy,” Everett said. “See you next week.”
After they hung up, Everett sprawled on the floor. Surprisingly enough, nothing seemed easier from this vantage point, so he sat back up. Of course he wasn’t upset that Jeremy was out enjoying life. But it did make him wonder—what was wrong with him that he was at home by himself on a beautiful fall evening when maybe he should be . . . at a bar? He didn’t even know how to complete that sentence, because he didn’t know what normal people did instead of working every night. He felt it again, that familiar “something is missing” feeling taking over his body, squeezing the breath out of his chest and making his heart beat faster.
But there was one thing that always made that feeling go away: work. And he knew that once he figured out this puppet and wrote a few new episodes, everything would be better. He’d feel better. He had to.
He took a deep breath and got back to work.
12
“I’m sorry,” Teddy said the second she burst through the door, tears running down her face, a McDonald’s bag in hand.
The room was dark, and on-screen Tippi Hedren screamed as birds dove from the sky. Eleanor and Kirsten turned to look at her, and Kirsten dropped a drumstick from her mouth.
“Teddy!” Eleanor shouted, standing up and running toward her. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Teddy took a deep breath and then, through heaving sobs, said, “I made dinner for Richard!”
“You made dinner?” Kirsten asked as she paused the movie and turned on the lights.
Teddy wiped her eyes. “Steak and salad.”
“I don’t think the ‘what’ is important,” Eleanor said patiently, putting an arm around her. “Let’s focus on how.”
They guided Teddy toward the couch, and as she cried, Teddy told them what had happened. “And I missed pajama-movie night! I’m the worst friend in the world.”
“Listen, pajama-movie night is important,” Kirsten said. “It’s one of the highlights of my week. But ultimately, we were eating chicken while watching bird attacks. We can repeat the experience, I promise.”
Eleanor handed Teddy a tissue, and Teddy wiped her nose. “I know. But it’s the principle of the thing. I never want to cook dinner for him again.”
“Can I ask . . . why are you clutching a McDonald’s bag like it’s a sack of treasure?” Eleanor asked gently.
Teddy sighed and opened the bag. “I don’t know. This is my third dinner, although I didn’t really eat the one at Richard’s on account of . . .”
“On account of he’s Rick the Dick,” Kirsten said.
“Right,” Teddy said. “But I don’t know, I drove away from the town house and a force greater than me compelled me to go through the McDonald’s drive-thru. It was like I wasn’t in control.”
“God works in mysterious ways, and She knew you needed a Quarter Pounder with Cheese,” Eleanor said.
“Amen,” Kirsten added, rubbing Teddy’s shoulder comfortingly. “You deserve all the processed, sodium-filled goodness you can get.”
“Oh, also.” Teddy bent down to grab another bag, which had fallen onto the floor. “Before McDonald’s, I went to Bath and Body Works.”
“Was there a candle sale?” Eleanor asked with an edge of frantic excitement to her voice.
“I sure hope so,” Kirsten said, “because if you pay full price for a three-wick candle, you’re a damn fool.”
“Oh, there was a sale,” Teddy said. “I was at Richard’s and I got depressed about the lack of seasonal décor, and then I was like, well, maybe we need a pecan-pumpkin waffle candle—”
Eleanor nodded. “Yes, we do. Keep going.”
“And then I remembered that we’re almost out of soap and there was a sale on that, so long story short, I hope you like autumnal scents and foaming antibacterial hand soap.”
“I adore both of those things,” Kirsten said.
“I think it’s time we put Project: Teddy Time into effect,” Eleanor said firmly, then reached over to the coffee table and grabbed her planner.
“Do you always have your planner with you?” Teddy asked, her mouth full of french fries.
“Organization doesn’t happen by accident,” Eleanor said, flipping through the pages. She uncapped her pen and, in her perfect teacher’s penmanship, wrote TEDDY TIME on one of her blank pages. “Are you familiar with Eleanor Roosevelt?”
“Am I familiar with . . . the wife of President Franklin Roosevelt?” Teddy asked. “Yes. I’ve heard the name a few times.”
“Well, she’s my namesake. My parents were weirdly obsessed with her. I don’t know—it was a whole thing. The point is, I grew up hearing her words all the time, and you know what? That woman was a lot of things—assumed closeted lesbian, boss bitch, and also a one-woman quote factory.”
“Okay,” Teddy said tentatively as she reached into the bag for another fry. Kirsten held out a hand, so Teddy gave her one, too.
“And the thing she said that my parents were most fond of was this: do one thing every day that scares you.”
Eleanor paused dramatically as Kirsten and Teddy chewed.
“Turns out she probably didn’t actually say that, at least not in such a Pinterest-graphic-worthy way, but the point remains: you, Teddy, are going to do one thing every day that scares you.”
“You want me to take inspiration from a misattributed quote?” Teddy asked.
“Every day,” Eleanor said firmly, ignoring her question. “You try one new thing. You make one new plan. One thing you never would have, or could have, done with Richard. One step, big or small, outside of your comfort zone. How do you expect to find your passion if you don’t have a plan, Teddy? This is your plan.” She paused and smiled. “Sound good?”
“Whoa,” Teddy said. “I didn’t know you could be so . . . authoritative.”
“She means bossy,” Kirsten said with a grin.
Eleanor flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Different students require different tactics to succeed!”