Eric reaches over and pats my knee reassuringly. “Hey, at least you got out before it was made permanent. Even if you wanted kids, did you really want a rat bastard to be their dad?”
I shake my head sadly. “No.”
I’ll spare Eric the details about my age and dwindling fertility. Although he’s being sweet, he’s still a guy, and there’s nothing more depressing than a woman talking about her egg viability.
“So now what?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re completely entitled to wallowing, but eventually you gotta get up from this sofa. What’s the next chapter?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. I’ve been reading all these self-help books and hoping to learn from all this. And the job thing is more complicated because I may have been sabotaged by my mentee, also a former bridesmaid.” I give him a sheepish look. “I left that part out because I didn’t want you to think I was a total pariah; but, obviously, something is wrong with me, and until I figure out what it is I’m scared to take the next step.”
I tell him about the law of attraction and the other bits of knowledge I’ve gleaned from the self-help books. He nods politely and says, uh-huh, at several points.
After I’ve told him everything, he says, “I have an idea what the problem is.”
“You do?” I brace myself for the answer I haven’t been quite able to figure out on my own.
“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe you surrounded yourself with assholes?”
That was not what I was expecting and I burst out laughing, mainly from relief.
“No, really,” Eric continues, talking over my laughter. “I kept wondering what I hated so much about my job and at the end of the day I realized, I work with a lot of assholes. And unfortunately that profession attracts a lot of that type. So, if I didn’t want to be surrounded by them, then I needed to find something new to do.” He pauses to drain his glass and then asks, “Out of curiosity, what did Neil do for a living?”
“Sales.”
He nods. “Asshole.”
That makes me laugh even harder and Eric grins and holds up the wine bottle. “Another glass?”
“Hit me.” I hold mine out for him to refill and then wipe the tears from my eyes with my free hand. “That’s the first time I’ve cried from laughing too hard in a while.”
“So what happened to your ring?”
“I still have it. I guess I should give it back, but I haven’t seen him to be able to do that.”
“You don’t need to give it back. It was a gift. If I were you, I’d sell it and live off the money while I figured out my next move.”
“I don’t know,” I say, hesitation in my voice. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“Errr … cheating on your fiancée with her maid of honor doesn’t seem right either. Call it even.”
“That’s a fair point,” I say, grinning. “I like you.”
“Well, you might not like me so much after what I’m going to say next.” He sits up straighter. “But he’s out in the world and, according to Facebook, at least, ‘in a relationship.’ You shouldn’t be sitting here in your pajamas. You should be out there living your life too. When I wasn’t sure what to do next, I started doing the volunteer coaching at CrossFit. Hanging out with these kids who don’t have the same privileges I had growing up put things in perspective for me. Also, just the act of volunteering got me out of my head, which was a relief.”
“According to my astrological soul reading that’s part of my problem—thinking about others rather than myself.”
Eric stares at me for a second too long and then says slowly, “Excuse me, but did you just say astrological soul reading?”
I laugh at how ridiculous it sounds and hold up our empty bottle. “So, hey, should I grab another bottle of wine?”
“If I’m going to listen to this, then yes, this requires some more wine.”
After pouring out my troubles and wine collection to Eric, I feel so much lighter and freer. Jordan has been awesome and the best friend that a girl could have, but, weirdly, there’s something about a stranger’s perspective and, especially, Eric’s tough love approach that has given me the extra push I needed. Eric doesn’t know me well enough to try to say the things he thinks I would want to hear. Plus, he’s had his own crises and came out the other end happier because of them. We finish the night off with a good buzz—and make a concrete plan to meet to discuss marketing and social media for The Cauldron.
In the morning, I feel newly energized and head out for a run and afterwards clean up my condo. Once I’m showered and everything is back in its place, I set my laptop on my kitchen table to get down to work—coming up with a thoughtful marketing and PR plan before meeting up with Eric on Monday. Before I can get started though, and while I don’t want to do it, I first need to clean out my email inbox. I see the messages from Eric and feel guilty for avoiding my email for so long; but then I see the messages from my mother and feel slightly less guilty. Then I see one from Neil and my heart stops.
Hi Allison –
I know we’ve moved on, but I thought you should know that Stacey and I are expecting a baby together. I’d like to meet up to discuss any loose ends. Are you available for coffee next week?
Neil
Oooh, I hate him. When I needed closure, he wasn’t going to give it to me; but when he needs it, he gets it? I don’t think so. I slam my laptop shut. Screw him!
Since I can’t concentrate right now with all the angry adrenaline pumping through my veins, I decide to head to the bookstore to burn some of it off. Surely, there must be something there to answer my problems.
LETICIA SEES ME in the aisle. “Hey, how are you today?”
“Good. Thank you. You?” From my robotic tone, Leticia must know something’s up and that I need my fix.
“What are we looking for today?”
“I need a book that will tell me why my fiancé dumped me, slept with my maid of honor, and got her pregnant.”
Leticia’s eyes go wide in both horror and sympathy as her lips form the perfect O. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry.” She’s a true professional though as she scans the spines on the shelf with her index finger. When she finds what she’s looking for, she pulls it out and says, “Here. This will give you those answers.”
The title refers to why men love “female dogs,” which aptly describes my feelings about Stacey these days.
“Sold,” I tell her.
Eric’s marketing plan will have to wait a couple hours as I take my purchase straight back to my sofa.
IN A NUTSHELL, the book tells me everything I’ve already been told by Jordan (with much love) and the astrologer-psychic-magician (with much planetary authority)—that I am a woman who loses herself in relationships. I give up what I want and center my life around a guy, the irony being that, by being such a selfless and compromising creature, I will never have the relationship I want. In other words, I’m a doormat. All evidence confirms this, and I’m a little disturbed that Leticia knows me so well. I’m also a little pissed that I didn’t know these secrets earlier. And I’m really pissed that Neil’s email said that we’ve both moved on. I haven’t moved on anywhere since we broke up. I’ve been on this stupid sofa going nowhere.