couples – Page 4 – three good words

August 30, 2014May 18, 2020

table talk

They took the cars to the reception, the place looked like a photograph from one of those design magazines. Not that he was surprised, Steff had been setting it up for six months now, no mistake was allowed. Richter said she was afraid one wrong move would jinx it. Except that the jinx was already on it, but Caden wouldn’t start that now. Sunny was flirting heavily with some cousin of Richter’s which Richter was trying to ignore. As he would, Steff was right next to him, looking like she just planted a flag on some new soil.

Parking was at the gates, so they walked down the wide tree-lined drive to the open doors, children running, people laughing, Steff and Richter at the front looking like a movie-still. Caden kept well away from Joan and Penelope, and with Liz around Angus couldn’t turn up either. He did notice how silent Marla was after one of the Mastersons left her alone again. She hadn’t really said much since they sat down for the ceremony. He regretted turning on her like that, but better that than having to clean up the mess after Angus had enough, as he would after week three, latest. Not to mention the war that would flare up once Liza found out, and Liza always found out. He didn’t need that in his life right now.

For three seconds Caden wanted to be back in O’Connor’s. He liked the mornings best when the bands came in to try out their sets, and he got to hear some genuinely good songs. The lyrics were rarely less than perfunctory, they were just starting after all, but some got it just right. They were everything from eager kids to serious musicians, Caden didn’t care which as long as they knew how to play. He always checked out one of their jam sessions first, or just a low-key gig somewhere, before he had them over. His rep was built on that. Band Night in O’Connor’s was a sure way to start up a solid fanbase, he had regulars who came every week just to see what was new. Lately scouts had started turning up as well, small labels, yes, but it was starting.

He enjoyed it. He liked standing behind the counter, keeping his hands busy, while the air was filled with real music and not just noise, everybody listening, maybe joining in if the band was good with the crowd, all of them having a genuinely good time. It made having the bands thank him seriously afterwards something really good. The younger ones especially were always pretty floored if the gig went well, getting chatty afterwards, drunk on the night and all the drinks they downed to stay steady. Closing up the place afterwards was something Caden wouldn’t miss. It was a way to wrap up the night and bring the place back to normal. And he always felt he’d really accomplished something, made something happen. It wasn’t anything grand, but it was something real, and with the way people kept on coming back, he wasn’t just seeing things.

It was at least an hour in, probably more, and Marla was still fairly silent next to him. That is, she kept on talking to Sunny and tried to be polite to Matt, but really didn’t say much to him, Caden. He didn’t like it much, it was the wrong kind of silence, but Jessie St John Lewis was right in his line of sight, watching his every move. Caden didn’t look, but he knew she was doing it, she always did once they were in the same room. He’d made the mistake of ignoring her before, and that always ended in tears and some kind of argument, if not a full blown fight. At one point Ella just refused to join anything that had to do with ‘those people’ as she called anyone who belonged to the Corrigans. flowers 4

It had taken a while until he understood that the moment Penelope and Jessie saw him, their goal was to make his life as miserable as possible. If Matt could already make Marla fidget like that… He didn’t need a meltdown here. Definitely not here. So Caden said little and only spoke when someone insisted they needed an answer. Usually it was Joan, Matt or Sunny, Marla keeping to herself if no one was actively trying to get her to talk again. Finally, Angus got up, tapped his glass, got some silence and started talking about how honoured he was to be best man. Steff kept on smiling her manicured smile, and Richter tried not to look as if he was about to be hanged and quartered by sundown. With everyone busy listening, Caden finally leaned over and said, ‘How’s the wine?’ Marla turned, startled, and said,

‘Good. Very good. Where’s it from?’
‘Spain.’
‘Where exactly?’
‘You know your way round Spain?’
‘A little.
‘Penedès?’
‘Oh. Yes. Nice. I heard they had good wines there.’

She tried to smile. Angus was still talking, trying to make it funny. People were polite and laughed where they should.

‘Sorry about just now. You caught me in an off moment.’
‘It’s ok.’
‘No, it’s not. It’s just – I don’t want you to get caught up with them.’
‘Caught up with whom?’

He couldn’t answer, Angus just raised his glass for the toast. Everybody got to their feet, raised their glasses, said, ‘To the happy couple,’ and cheered Steff and Richter as if they meant it. Everybody sat back down again, and Steff gave a nod down to the door which meant it was desserts now. At least the food was great so far. It would be all day, till the morning breakfast tomorrow.

‘So, Ms. Brandon, Caden tells me that you work on the hill?’

That was Joan. The whole table turned to Marla, who said a very composed,

‘I do.’
‘And do you like the work?’
‘It’s interesting, yes.’
‘It must be difficult for you. As a woman in such a male domain. How do you manage?’

Again, Marla’s whole face said, ‘What?’

‘I – we’re a good team,’ was what she said out loud.
‘Are you the only woman?’
‘Ah – well, yes, but Anna –’
‘Of course you would be,’ Joan nodded. ‘I guess they don’t let you girls in that easily, do they?’

Marla actually looked to him for help.

‘Their team tends to fluctuate,’ Caden said, he could see Marla’s relief.
‘Why?’ Joan asked. ‘Don’t you get along?’
‘That’s not how it works, Joan,’ Fred finally said. ‘As far as I understand, it’s all contractual. Once the contract runs out you move to the next project, am I right, Miss?’
Marla smiled gratefully, ‘Yes, quite like that.’
‘But that must be such a strain,’ Joan frowned. ‘When do you get to settle?’
‘I’m quite settled now,’ Marla tried.
‘Don’t you want to get married? With all that travelling – Sunny tells me you were in India and New York?’
‘I was, yes, but –’
‘Well, you see. With all that travelling, how are you ever supposed to start a family? Or are you one of those career women who abhor children?’

It was in moments like these where Caden knew exactly where Matt got that smirk from.

‘I – well – that subject hasn’t really – come up yet –’
‘But you must be what, twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? It’s about time, isn’t it?’

Marla just stared.

‘Really, these young women today,’ Joan shook her head at Fred who was getting a bit pink at the ears. ‘All business and no time for family. I sometimes wonder if letting them all study was all that clever. How are people supposed to have children?’
‘Oh, that’s quite easy, Mrs. Corrigan,’ Marla said calmly. ‘You just have to have a bit of sex in between.’

Sunny snorted into her cup, and even Matt couldn’t help a chuckle. Caden drank his coffee to hide the smile. Joan gave Marla a long look and was about to say something, but Richter’s dad was already tapping his glass, and the room fell silent again.

August 28, 2014May 18, 2020

down the aisle, 2

‘Caden? Is that you? I didn’t know you’d be here!’

Caden almost said ‘Fuck’ out loud. Penelope. A mistake. A big mistake. But he didn’t know then, young and stupid as he was. He didn’t know he needed something called space until he didn’t have it anymore. Or air. He needed to breathe. Penelope didn’t understand that concept. Ever since he escaped, she kept on trying to clap him in chains again.

He managed to keep it down to a few kisses, several hugs and no mention of Marla, who’d have no peace once Penelope found out she was there with him. Penelope had her troops ready, half the Talbot-Halls, a couple Bernards, three Mastersons and Marjorie ‘Jessie’ St John Lewis, who was Penelope’s NSA, she was everywhere and reported back to HQ in seconds. There was no need to put Marla through that, so he stood and waited until he could finally disentangle himself and run.

Once outside, Caden made sure none of Penelope’s foot soldiers could find him, fully aware of just how ridiculous this was, but he really wanted some peace today, he didn’t need the shouting. Or the tears. So he smoked one behind the church, and promptly got found out by the pastor – who asked if he had another, he’d been dying for a fag since breakfast. They shared a smoke, talked about nothing in particular, the good weather, the number of guests, how old the church was – ancient by the sound of it – the padre talking away, almost as if he was nervous. Turns out he was.

‘You never know with this crowd. They’re very… particular about how it’s supposed to go. Friend of mine had a bit of a sore throat once, family was up in arms he spoiled the whole ceremony, and all he did was clear his throat a couple of times. And that was before the vows. They were ready to sue him, I’m positive.’

The padre shook his head, thanked Caden for the cigarette and went back in with a, ‘Wish me luck.’ Caden finally went out to the car, past more guests coming in, suits and hats, and another Masterson, as it looked like Richter’s whole family was going to show up. He was just at the door when he heard it, high and sharp, like someone was about to sneeze. Caden opened the car, took out his camera and slammed the door shut, extra loud. That didn’t sound out the last, near-strangled sound behind the bushes. Caden leaned against the car, unscrewed the lense’s lid and checked if there were any smudges – none. There was rustling and giggling, and more rustling. Then, much to the lack of his surprise, Sunny and Richter tumbled out from behind a Mercedes SLK, brushing themselves of leaves and greenery.

Sunny didn’t see him, but Richter did, Sunny half running, half walking back to the church, pulling her dress in place, while Richter strolled over looking much less anxious and far more relaxed.

‘Don’t look at me like that, you knew about it anyway,’ was the first thing he said.

Caden scaled the trees to check the light.

‘Come on man, you know what she’s like. And I can’t stay with a kid like her, I’d be dead by day four.’

Caden took a shot and looked at the still. Good.

‘Come on, Tellis, you know what it’s like,’ which was where Caden said, ‘Actually, I don’t,’ straightening.
‘What?’ Richter laughed, as if it was all a joke. He never really got rid of that.
‘Just leave her alone from now on.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes, Steve, I’m serious. And you’re right, she’s a kid. So, drop it. I can’t have last year happen again, especially with Steff watching. And neither can you.’

That seemed to hit home.

‘Come on, Caden, it was just –’ but Caden didn’t wait to listen and walked back to the church.

Angus was telling her something about how Richter fell into a ditch in the Hebrides when Marla saw Caden walk down the church aisle. Something was wrong. She excused herself from Angus as best as she could, and walked over to Caden who was taking pictures, possibly to figure out the light first before the ceremony started. She stopped next to him and said, ‘Those windows are beautiful.’ He lowered the camera and adjusted the lense, wordlessly.

‘You all right?’ Marla asked.
‘Yeah, why?’
‘You looked a bit upset just there.’
‘Where?’
‘Just now. You sure you’re all right.’

He gave her a quick look, piercing.

‘Word of advice?’
‘Advice?’
‘Yeah. Stay away from Angus. He’s got a girl, Liza. Steff’s best friend. You don’t want to get mixed up with that.’

The blush flooded Marla’s face. It was the way he said it, as if she was doing something deliberately stupid, insulting her own intelligence.

‘I – we were just talking.’
‘Yeah, right.’

He lifted his camera, scaled and took another shot. The blush increased.

‘We were. It was just small talk – ’
‘Did he tell you about Liza?’ he said, taking another shot.
‘Well. No, but –’

He stopped then, turned to her, and said seriously, too seriously,

‘These people aren’t like yours, Marla. Or mine. They don’t mean half of what they say, so don’t start believing whatever it is they’ve been telling you.’
‘I –’
‘Use your head –’
‘Caden –’
‘Or just bloody stay away from him. Or whoever. It’ll save you a lot of trouble.’

And with that he walked down the aisle towards the altar, stopping once to take another shot, looking very professional. It took a moment until Marla realised she was just standing there, staring. He didn’t say anything rude, but his tone… The irritation she felt was real. There was no need to talk to her like that. All they did was small talk. Honestly, that was not on.

The bride looked like she just conquered a piece of valuable real estate, the groom looked resigned to his fate. The ceremony was beautiful though, the hymns tasteful, the sermon brief, the vows clear and unimpeded, the rings flashing brightly even from where Marla was sitting. She and Caden hadn’t spoken a word to each other since he snapped at her for no reason whatsoever. She didn’t understand why he was suddenly so angry with her, she just talked to his friend, who was cheeky and flirtatious and not the kind of man Marla would have ever taken seriously. And then he snapped at her like that. She knew it wasn’t jealousy. It was the way he said it. Like he had this genuinely high opinion of her and she disappointed him. As if she really was being stupid and stopped using her head. She’d never seen him like that before, and through the whole ceremony Marla was aware that she was mildly shocked. She had looked forward to this wedding, but now… she really hoped the reception would be better.

August 24, 2014October 9, 2014

bar & grill

summer, beaches,
surf and waves
lots of very fit people.

the sky’s unbelievable blue.

it’s beautiful here, relaxing,
for me.
The others?
They’re driven,
seriously keeping themselves
busy.

But it’s my day off,
so I’m enjoying it
all the way
the sea, the sun,
the waves.

out on the terrace of the bar & grill,
enjoying the sun
watching the waves
and they start talking right next to me.

as in, loud.

probably on a date,
sorting out deal-breakers,
pasts, presents, wishes, dreams.

I guess everyone here is out to make it big,
and if that doesn’t work out
then have a comfortable life.

it’s about dreaming big
having, keeping,
accumulating your assets,
promoting
your Self.

the beach, the sun,
the waves
all fantastic
really great

but they keep on talking,
listing
promoting
loud and louder
stereo surround

Her No-No list:
drugs, alcohol, smoking

His: violence
Got hit by his ex…
sounded psychotic.

Both:pet peeves
real hates
what neither would tolerate

a frantic search for similarities
but no real conversation

It’s like there are boxes
they need to check

fun, motivated
real wishes
genuine dreams
a perspective.

And people are getting a massive load of parking-tickets.

A young woman’s asking,
cajoling,
trying what she can,
but the ticket’s already written.

Apparently it costs $8
to go to the beach in NJ.

2nd date
they’re gone now

and it’s back to the beach
the sea, the waves.

It’s beautiful here
a great place to wind down
for me

the waves, the beach
the sea
really pretty.

August 22, 2014May 16, 2020

throwback thursday

Livy.

She stopped. This was Bloomingdales. Nobody knew that name. No, she must have heard wrong. She continued but then, again.

Livy. Livy.

In a second she was twenty-two again, young and hopeful and proud of her job, how good she was. She’d managed to prove that she didn’t only have the looks, she also had the skills. She really was good at her job. She remembered when he first walked in, young, brash, angry at the boss, asking her sharply Is he in? She had asked him firmly but politely to wait. He had paced, hands in his pockets, flashing her quick, impatient looks. After the call she told him, He’ll see you now and he went in. There had been shouting. He stormed out and she didn’t really think of him again until a week later when she ran into him at the Xerox, and he asked her for a favor. A file he needed copying, he’d pick it up later, he was on the run. He was charming and sweet, so she did it. He came after his lunch break and small talked with her about music and movies and how he’d like to see the latest one, she forgot which one. The second time he did that she knew her hunch was right, he was looking for reasons to see her. It amused her. It was flattering. But they were all flirts so she never took it seriously. Until he asked her out. She should have said no. She was foolish and hopeful though, and said yes. And now someone was calling her Livy.

She stopped at the watches and acted as if she was looking. She felt someone stop next to her and ask if he could look at the something Phillip. The clerk was eager and polite. She dared a glance. No. Yes, but… No. Please. He was talking to the clerk and then said, She has slim wrists. Much like the lady here. Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you, but could I ask you for a favor? She looked and looked and swallowed. He had aged well, very well. She asked, Pardon? And he said. My wife has about the same slim wrists as you do. Do you mind if I borrowed you as a mannequin? And she knew then, clearly, it was his old trick again, finding excuses to talk to her. She wanted to say no, but the clerk was surprised and expectant and she didn’t want to look mean-spirited or worse. So she stretched out her hand and the clerk fastened the watch around her wrist and he looked at it, nodding approvingly before saying Gold or silver? And the clerk asked, What does your wife usually wear? Both, he smiled and suddenly she was speaking. I think this one is very nice. It was beautiful, white gold and polished gold intertwined, with stones sparkling around the dial. It had to cost a fortune, but then he looked like money. He always had. The clerk smiled graciously and asked if he would take it. He said, I think I’ll look some more, and the clerk asked her politely if she could remove the watch. She watched her unfasten it and put it back on display. She moved to leave, saying a polite Goodbye. He turned, sharply, and there was something in his eyes and face that she hoped she was just imagining. He said, Thank you for your help, and she just nodded and walked down the aisle. She already passed the perfumes when she heard, Livy wait.

She stopped this time and turned. He was walking towards her, hands in his pockets, just like he used to. I’m sorry about that, he said once he stopped. Can I – can I ask you to a coffee? She just looked at him. Thirty-seven years and he wanted coffee. It’s only a coffee. Please. I know a place just round the corner. Unless you’re busy. He didn’t want to say the last part, she could see that. He still had his hands in his pockets. And she couldn’t deny that she was curious about his life.

The coffee extended to a dinner. He talked about himself and asked her questions. He had three children, she had two, all of them doing well in their own ways. They laughed more than she expected. He never looked anywhere else, his eyes fixed on her, that look becoming clearer and clearer. She knew she should stop this even before she agreed to the dinner. It wasn’t right. She knew that look on a man, she knew that feel of him. But she couldn’t deny how much she liked it, how nice it was, how simply nice it was to be looked at like that again. He began touching her over dinner, or rather, half way through, he took her hand and looked at her ring and brushed his thumb over it, looking serious, maybe sad. It was a sudden and very intimate gesture that broke down all the politeness they had been floating on till then. He said, I was such a coward. Then he let her hand go.

The tears just happened, she never saw them coming. She did what she could to stop them, smudging her napkin with her mascara, and finally the tears stopped. She looked at him and saw what she had dreaded, what had made her so furious back then, what had hurt her so much. She had known he loved her. She had known it, felt it, her whole body and senses, every single part of her knew it. And then he told her he’d met someone else and that he’d fallen in love with her and all those other horrible things that made her slap him and throw things and kick him out of her flat. The worst was how he took it, how he never defended himself, as if he knew he deserved it. She couldn’t face him after that. Just hearing his name was too much. And then she saw them, a year later, walking down some street, near here. She saw them together, saw how happy they were, and something broke and couldn’t be repaired again. She met Arthur soon after and started a new life, a good life, but that was always there, a shadow in her heart she could never get rid of.

And now, thirty-seven years later, he said I was such a coward. She got up and left the table, left the restaurant and hailed a cab. He caught up with her before she could get one, holding her back, making her yank herself free. He said Livy, please and she snapped, My name is Olivia. Olivia, he said, I’m sorry if I said something stupid – but she interrupted him with a Don’t apologize. You made your choice and I respect that. Just don’t come along now acting as if you cared. He looked hurt, but said nothing. I never forgot you, he said then, but she just scoffed, looking to the sky, trying to hold back the goddamn tears. Her Moma had warned her, the nice ones were the worst. I don’t know why you’re doing this, she finally said. You don’t look divorced so it can’t be that – Livy. Olivia. I understand if you hate me, but at least let me apologize. For what, she asked. Almost past her fives and she felt like twenty-two again. He pulled her closer to the restaurant, out of people’s way, and she had no way to fight it. I shouldn’t have cared, he said, I know that. I always thought it was the time, but I know that was an excuse. There was no excuse for what I did. I just wanted you to know that. That, and that I never forgot you, and that I’m sorry for what happened. I can’t make it un-happened. I want to, but I can’t. It’s not like I don’t love my family. I love them, all of them, my wife, my kids and yet – I regret every day that I just threw it all away. I – I never wanted to hurt you. Livy. Olivia. I never wanted to hurt you. I was just – I know you’ll probably never forgive me, but I – I couldn’t let you walk away like that, without letting you know – I never meant it to be this way.

She just looked at him. Did he think this would change anything? He didn’t look like it, nor did he sound like it. He looked and sounded like someone who was saying I’m sorry and meant it. It took him almost four decades, but at least he got around to saying it. She nodded, Ok. He looked hopeful, but she stopped that when she said I should go home. Thank you for dinner. And without waiting, she walked to the next cab, got in without caring who hailed and drove home.

Three weeks later she received a huge bouquet of roses and a small gift-wrapped box with a bow. She opened the box and found the beautiful wristwatch in it, with a small card saying For a different time, Don. She had no idea what to think of it, except that he didn’t go by Donavan anymore. She looked at the watch. It was exquisitely light and very beautiful. She could never wear it. How explain it to Arthur, let alone the kids. She kept it hidden in her desk drawer and went back to the showroom, happy to entertain the next client. If she learnt one thing from what happened back then, then it was to stick to her ambition and start her own business. And now she had it, the kind of PR that was solid and ran really well, and it was all her own.

He kept sending flowers. Every Thursday, as if to commemorate their second meeting. Her assistant thought she had them ordered, she always put them in a tall glass vase on the round table she used for meetings. Once at her own desk, she couldn’t avoid seeing them. Every Thursday, a beautiful bouquet of flowers, very often roses, red, pink, cream, in all shades and always beautiful, filling her room with a perfect scent. Six months passed this way, every Thursday a bouquet of roses, and then she received an invitation to a fundraiser. It was too good to let pass, all she was thinking about when she accepted was the people she could meet there. New clients meant more business, and you could never have enough business. So she went with Arthur and saw him standing there with his wife, smiling, and she knew it, she just knew it. This was not going to end well.

August 21, 2014May 18, 2020

pursuit of happiness

A year, almost.
Twelve months.

Fall was filling the streets with cardinal colours.

Marla no longer felt new in Ferin Mews.
Her loft was her home now,
her housemates peculiar accessories to her life.

If her life was the planet they were the satellites, rotating obscurely around her quotidian, always near yet out of reach. Though Sunny would join her in the kitchen for a cuppa if she wasn’t out and about, busy with her own life.

Sunny, yes.
Sunny was always busy.
An afternoon’s rest
an evening without something to do,
impossible.

If she wasn’t working, Sunny and her friends crowded into the apartment, laughing and screaming, giggling and shouting, talking about things Marla didn’t always understand.

There was fashion, there was music, there were the does and don’ts of post-adolescent life where you were just old enough to be grown up to the school-kids, but still young enough to be a kid for the real grannies and grandpas. Life was dreary after 25, and anyone who survived that dreadful age was both awesomely brave and awfully to be pitied .

Some of Sunny’s friends, if they found Marla in the living room or kitchen or just down the hall, some of them would ask her how it was in The Life Beyond.

Wasn’t it terrifically difficult finding a decent bloke? Most, after all, were married or useless now anyway. Was it very difficult? It had to be bad. Was it? Were there any clubs she could go to without, you know, sticking out? She looked good, she really did, but still, she was, y’know, older? And why did she wear those really bright skirts? They were kind of ethnic weren’t they? Sometimes she looked like a Mexican – oh God, were you still allowed to say that?

Yes, of course!
No, you can’t!
Shame on you!
Heathens!
Endless arguments,
more giggling,
more questions,
more drinks.

Her hair was incredible by the way, and Sunny had told them she had a sari, which was ultracool, though cool was out and awesome was in, and if something was really magnificent it was super delish.

Marla answered as best as she could, trying to follow the ping-pong conversations that seemed to be made out of clauses. She was pleased however, when Sunny mentioned that her friends thought she was ‘swell’, (they had dug up the word from God-knows-where and now used it as their own group-speak). It was high praise for someone thirty, that horrible age when all desirability disappeared at the stroke of twelve.

Marla would sometimes relate the conversations she heard to her own friends. Theresa, Rena, Val and Beth laughed and shook their heads. They all started remembering their own early twens. That time when everyone was convinced they knew everything, and those older were either horribly disfigured or perfectly boring. Naturally everyone younger was puerile and childish and not to be considered. It was a blessed time of hubris, a time when one really felt like the king of the world, or rather the Queen of Sheba with King Solomon at her feet.

‘But would you want to go back?’ Beth asked last time, and everyone started laughing, ‘Oh God, no!’

The confusion,
the fading dreams,
the disillusionment.

The simple disappointment one had to live through, for all the nonsense and self-importance to be chipped away, for all the blue-eyed naïveté to be burned off by the blowtorch that was life… no, there was no need for that all over again. It was much better to know now, than to be learning then. Really, thank God it was over.

The conversation continued while Marla prepared dessert, missing out on most, until she handed out the plates of tiramisu. The whole table was laughing when Theresa suggested they all grab a fresher the next time they were out on town.

‘Never mind that you have to teach them everything,’ she grinned, ‘that way they don’t get messed up by someone else.’
‘I don’t know about teaching, love,’ Rena chuckled, ‘they’re pretty knowledgeable from what I hear.’

There was more laughter and Val had some news to tell anyway, so they moved on from there. After her friends left though, Marla couldn’t forget what Theresa said about being ‘messed up by someone else’.

Past experiences formed the present character, ok.
Ric and Alicia were… not a conventional couple.
Did she ever have a chance?

Was it all predetermined?
Maybe to a certain extent.
She could hardly influence her childhood.
Who could?

Marla did think she had a say on her more adult years though. She spent the rest of the night wondering if she would have been someone different if she hadn’t met Eric.

Eric. Well.

Would she be different
if she’d never moved to New York?
Probably.
Those three years did change a lot.
Yet she couldn’t say she was completely altered.

She was still hardworking professionally.
Easy-going personally,
More optimistic than pessimistic.
And she still loved being in company.

That hadn’t changed,
The core was still the same.
Everything else though, that had gone through various revolutions.

She didn’t take things for granted as much as she used to.
She was more careful with herself, emotionally speaking.
She was no longer so reckless in her demands on life.
She had become a little more content with what she had.
Yes, that had changed.

All this pursuit of happiness,
it killed you.

It was a real chase on the other side, all the way over there.
It was like 5.0 racing through the square streets with all the sirens blaring.

And you had to give everything a shot,
you needed all the ammunition you got,
And then, when you thought you had it, this happiness,
this perfection that was apparently all what it was about –

Then it was skin and bones and hardly breathing,
and you had to race to the hospital to get a reanimation,
and have the doctor shake his head and order a steady diet,

real carbs
real fruits
real exercise
and fresh, fresh air

Which meant at least ten weeks in an exclusive help-centre in Vermont.

Marla hoped Heather was doing better.

They wrote emails, they talked on the phone. Heather wouldn’t Skype yet, she didn’t feel ready for a screen, but she was good with the phone. She said she had put on weight. She didn’t sound as stressed-out/spaced-out as she used to. Marla guessed that was a good thing.

Sadie said something like that would never have happened in San Francisco, but Marla wasn’t too sure. She packed her bags and returned home. She’d been thinking about it for some time anyway. Especially after Eric turned out to be as immature and irresponsible as her mother had warned her he would be – that was the worst part of it.

Marla felt it was that, that had angered her most about Eric:
That he made Marla make that concession,
That her mother was proven right instead of wrong.
How on earth was she ever to voice doubt again?

Anyway, now she was in Ferin Mews, living in a lovely loft.

With a happy blonde,
a quiet bartender,
and a whole Irish pub downstairs.
It wasn’t what she expected.
It wasn’t the West Side flat she shared with Heather

Heather who wanted to try out a bohemian life
before she married a stock broker,
and sent her kids to schools that taught Mandarin.

She only let Marla move in because
‘co-habs are character-building and so a good thing’
and Marla was ‘so exotic and beautiful and strange’
Heather, verbatim.

The place was ‘a treat’ as they said.
And Heather was really nice, once you got over her prep-school ways.

And exhausting.

It was so exhausting.
It drained everything out of her.
Eric. Heather. New York.

Everything she was,
everything she had,
it just got sucked in and disappeared.
Three years
one huge drain on her soul.
So she left.

She had to.
It was either that or no sanity.
Marla preferred to be sane.
And made sure to call Heather.
They wrote emails, texts, words
and once a week they talked on the phone.

Marla really hoped she was better.