He shakes his head at me. “No, no. I’m not a charity case. Plus, didn’t anyone tell you?” He pauses dramatically. “Never work for free.”
“Says the guy who gives away free coffee.” I grin.
“That’s different. Like you’ve pointed out before, I’m basically a drug dealer. I need to get you hooked first before I can get you to pay my exorbitant prices.” He winks and then turns back to the last bites of his burger. “Think about it and let me know.”
“Will do. Let’s talk again after I get back from my trip next week.”
Eric gives me his email address, and I promise to send him my resume and link to my portfolio.
We finish eating, and while I haven’t checked the time, I’m pretty sure we’ve been talking for well over an hour.
When Jonah slides the check toward Eric, I make a grab for it. “Here, this is on me.”
Eric slides it away. “Nope, sorry. One of us is employed, and even with your nice severance, I can’t allow you to pay for this. I had fun. And when you start making money, then you can pay next time.” He flashes me a cheerful grin and throws his credit card on the tray.
“Thanks. I owe you.” I’m not sure whether his picking up the check is due to my unemployment or his trying to employ me—or the start of a new phase in our budding friendship.
“It’s cool. I know where to find you.” He smiles and squeezes my arm affectionately.
“Usually at your coffeehouse.”
“Exactly. See? All that free coffee is panning out.”
As I walk home, I notice my spine is straighter and my mind is bursting with ideas of a marketing/PR plan for The Cauldron. Eric’s easy assumption that I’d have no problem getting my own PR clients was exactly the shot of confidence I needed to get me out of my funk.
I need a book for my flight. Though I know it’s easier to travel with an e-reader, I’m not super keen on having a digital library full of self-help titles. While I’m no longer embarrassed to read them in public, once I’ve obtained all their wisdom and gotten my life in order, I much prefer to donate or, better yet, do a cleansing ritual where I burn them all in a great big bonfire. Today I’m not sure what I want, so I’m simply browsing titles at Barnes & Noble hoping to be inspired.
Since it’s the middle of a weekday, the store isn’t that busy, and Leticia is hovering nearby straightening up shelves.
“Can I help you find something?” she asks.
“Thank you, but I’m just browsing.”
“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.” She continues calmly shelving and rearranging books.
After five minutes of staring at book spines and not feeling anything, I finally say, “Actually, I am looking for something.”
She stops her shelving. “What’s that?”
“The book that will change my life.”
She laughs. “Have you read The Promise?”
“No. What’s that about?”
“Oh! You’ll love it! It’s the only self-help book you need.” She scans the shelf while running her finger along the book spines searching for it. “Though I almost hate to recommend it because once you read it, you probably won’t buy anything else.” Locating it, she pulls it off the shelf and hands it to me.
It has a red seal on the cover and promises to teach me the great secret of the universe.
“Is it religious?” It looks religious.
“Mmm … it’s more spiritual, I would say. But, let me tell you, this stuff works.”
I’m intrigued and decide that I could use a spiritual book to round out my education—or “journey” as the books tend to call these early-onset midlife crises.
HALFWAY THROUGH THE flight to San Diego, I finish The Promise.
I no longer need a recommendation from Eric because this book talks all about the law of attraction—that I can control whatever outcome I want with my mind. The concept blows me away. I know I still have to figure out what I want to attract into my life; but what really surprises me is the idea that I created the situation I found myself in. Is it possible that my life fell apart because I don’t post inspirational quotes on Face-book or create vision boards?
“Should I create a vision board?” I ask Jordan who is seated next to me and highly engrossed in a People magazine.
“A vision board?” She looks away from her magazine and squints at me. “What are you talking about?”
“So this book is saying that I attract what I want into my life. For example, if I want Neil to suddenly say it’s over with Stacey and that he does want to marry me after all, I should visualize that outcome.”
“Is that what you want?” Her mouth gapes open and her eyes go wide.
“No!” I say, bolting upright in my seat, my expression mirroring hers by my example. “More like, if I want money, then I should expect to win the lottery.”
She tilts her head. I can tell by her narrowed eyes that she’s not quite buying it.
“Hmmm. …” Jordan closes her eyes and dramatically swirls her hand in the air. “I wish for another glass of wine.” She then opens her eyes and punches in an order for wine on the touchscreen on the back of the seat in front of her. “Voilà!”
I roll my eyes at her mocking display. “Or how by thinking negative thoughts, negative things will happen to you because you’re thinking about them,” I continue.
“So it’s basically the power of positive thinking?”
“Yes. Like that.” I see that she’s getting it. “I mean, do you think I thought all my problems into existence? That I put something out there in the universe?”
“No. Let’s not go writing revisionist history. You couldn’t have thought this into existence because otherwise you wouldn’t have been what they call ‘blindsided.’”
“Wine, miss.” A handsome young flight attendant places Jordan’s chardonnay on her tray table.
“Thank you.” She smiles at him. When he leaves, she says, “Yes, the power of positive thinking is good, but there’s also this thing called taking action. I positively wanted this wine, so I took action and ordered it.”
“Okay, okay.” Jordan’s been supportive and encouraging of my self-help discoveries, but this is her vacation too, and maybe I should lighten up. I change the subject. “I can’t wait to do this yoga retreat.”
“Spa weekend,” she corrects me.
“Potayto, potahto.”
“Whatever.” Jordan harrumphs and waves her hand at me. “So tomorrow I have a facial, followed by a full-body scrub, and then a massage. What services are you getting?”
“A massage and an astrological soul reading.”
Jordan snorts and almost chokes on her wine. “An astrological soul reading?!” she sputters. A few other passengers turn around to look at us. Jordan laughs for what feels like a full five minutes while I wait patiently. When she recovers and wipes away some tears of laughter, she says, “Sorry about that. I’m fully supportive of this looking inward and figuring yourself out, but I draw the line at astrology. And if you go join an ashram or cult, then you’re on your own.”