by Angela Terry
“Whoa! I didn’t expect such a Debbie Downer reaction. I’ll chalk that up to still smarting from the job loss. So, Nike has this slogan that says, ‘Just Do It.’ I would think as someone in that world you may have heard of it.”
“Ha-ha. You’re right.” I appreciate that Eric is calling me out on my excuses, and it’s time to match his honesty on this point. “Sorry if this is TMI, but the truth is I’ve been busy licking my wounds and not thinking very optimistically.”
“Listen, one client usually begets another. If you wanted to try out the freelance thing, I could use some help.”
“Is this a pity job?”
“Not at all,” he says earnestly. “You already started spinning off names for my latest recipe. And it’s clear I haven’t done a good job about marketing my other places, I’ve just been counting on locals to find me. My website is a static page with hours and locations, and I have zero social media presence. I read some books on this stuff, but I haven’t had time to implement it. I’ve been so busy with the actual setting up, financials, hiring, training, and running everything that my marketing is nil.”
“You should at least have a Facebook page and a Twitter account.”
“I should, but I’m only one person and I need help.”
“I can help, and I’ll do it for free.”
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.”
“Duly noted.”
FRIDAY AFTERNOON, JORDAN says, “I’m doing this for you,” as she rolls out a yoga mat.
“Thank you. But you’ll be thanking me later when you finally release that hunched-over-my-laptop-all-the-time look you have going on.”
She responds with a dramatic eye-roll and then reaches over and jabs me in the shoulder.
That’s the great thing with Jordan—we can tease each other, disagree, sometimes make the other dissolve into tears (good and bad), and our friendship is the stronger for it. I think of Stacey’s backhanded compliments or Kate’s appearing to agree with me and then disappearing altogether; Jordan has told me some harsh truths about myself lately, but rather than begrudge her, I’m grateful to her.
When the instructor comes in and introduces herself as Harmony Faith, Jordan sneaks me a look as if to say, “Is she for real?” which I ignore. I had taken this instructor’s yoga class last night when we got in and I liked how she read from her journal. And, as someone doing a lot of journaling lately, I’m curious what Harmony is going to read today.
“Today I would like to read an entry that I wrote about confrontation.” She talks about how she realized that she didn’t want to confront people who had hurt her or even something as simple as bad service or a job not done well. Instead of speaking up, she’d stifle those feelings and create anger and resentment inside herself to avoid an uncomfortable situation. When she considered confrontation in a different way, she realized that she could do it from a place of love. That the person who did a bad job deserved feedback and that she was helping them improve their work. Or that the person who hurt her might not know it, and confrontation allowed them a chance to explain or apologize and become more aware of their behavior in the future. Harmony’s lesson was that confrontation doesn’t have to come from a place of hurt or anger, but can come from a place of love.
As I stretch into the various poses, I let my mind wander. I’ve wanted to confront Neil, Stacey, Kate, and even my mother, but these imaginary confrontations usually involve that day’s revenge fantasy. Could I manage confronting them from a place of love? I don’t know yet. It’s also true that I want explanations and understanding. I’ve been trying to take the high road and not let myself fall down the all-too-easy path of victimhood, but I can’t say that I’m feeling empowered by this path. It just feels like avoidance. I breathe deeply into the next pose and then let the breath whoosh out of me. I’m letting go of negativity, I tell myself. Rather than dread talking to any of them ever again, maybe I could view confrontation as an opportunity for deeper understanding. While I realize it’s easy to find enlightenment at a fancy spa resort in the desert, I still feel pretty good about this insight.
After yoga, Jordan and I sip herbal teas on the patio outside and enjoy the late afternoon sun.
“You were right,” says Jordan. “My back and shoulders thank you. Between that yoga class and my massage, I’m going to float right to sleep tonight.”
“Early enough to get up for the sunrise hike in the morning?”
“No.” She narrows her eyes at me. “I cannot be tricked that easily. And I still can’t believe you did that this morning.” She stops herself. “Let me take that back. I know you, and I knew you would do that hike because you are truly, utterly insane.”
“It was gorgeous, and I’m glad I didn’t miss it. And I’m glad you liked the class, even if it’s not enough to trust my recommendation on the hike.” I grin at her. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“We’ll see.” She smiles back at me before taking another sip of tea.
“So, hey, what did you think of the instructor’s thoughts on confrontation?”
Jordan first does a look around the restaurant and then leans in and whispers to me, “Never trust a yoga instructor. They’re all crazy. Kinda like therapists. They’re all working their own stuff out.”
“Perhaps.” I laugh. “She made me think though. I’ve been avoiding everyone, just doing the head in the sand thing, but maybe it’s time for confrontation?”
“Well, you know me, I’m all for confrontation. That’s probably why I’m a litigator.”
“Yes, but I’ve wanted to confront them because I’m angry and hurt. I want to shift my mindset from that to confronting them from a place of love.” Weirdly, it’s not so much Neil that I’m worried about, but Stacey and Kate. If nothing else, I don’t want to worry about seeing them at work events if I end up in another PR job.
“This is all very mature and Oprah-like, but maybe you should also think about spiking their coffee with truth serum to get some real answers. Neil is going to be scared of you, which he should be. Stacey, well, who knows what that airhead is thinking. And, Kate? Frankly, Kate scares me! Be careful with that one.”
“Yeah. While she’s probably the most important person to confront if I ever want another job in PR, I’d rather tackle my cheating ex-fiancé and my ex-friend the whore, first.” Okay, so maybe I’m not at a place of love, yet. “Get the easy stuff out of the way.”
“Sounds like a plan. So this tea is great and all, but is it happy hour yet? I feel we should celebrate your newfound wisdom with something bubbly.”
“It’s a resort. I’m pretty sure that can be arranged.”
DURING THE NEXT day’s early morning hike, as I watch the sunrise appear over the hills, I feel completely calm and clearheaded. Today would have been my wedding day. At this time I’d already be rushing around, my bridesmaids and I getting ready for our hair and makeup appointments, and my mother fussing and generally driving me crazy. There’d be something wrong with the flowers and some last-minute snafus. There would be tension I’d have to diffuse and logistical problems to solve rather than being able to enjoy the day. In this dawn quiet, it’s hard to believe that today was a day I was looking forward to because right now I feel relief. I should probably thank Neil and Stacey for saving me from a huge mistake, though I wish they had gotten together much sooner. If they had, maybe I would have found my real soul mate and been married and had my two point five kids by now.
That negative thought creeps in, and my heart squeezes in pain. I take a deep breath and count to four as I exhale to let go of this feeling. It’s okay. I’m going to be okay. There are other avenues. I know I imagined the white picket fence and all that, but there are women having babies and raising children without partners and by choice. I could do that. I have family close by and friends. I would be partner-less, but not alone. While it’s not what I imagined, it’s like my job—I was looking for the same exact position, when there are so many other options out there. And now I’m thinking of doing a consulting business as opposed to working at another large firm. While this isn’t so outside the box for many, for me it is. This of course makes me think of Eric and how he went in a completely different direction, and how I can’t picture him being the miserable, stressed-out guy he claims he was because he always exudes an air of calm.
Something I can’t admit to Jordan, or even really to myself yet, is that Eric is the kind of guy I wish I’d met earlier. Whenever I talk to him, I have a new perspective on things, and we seem to share a lot of the same interests and values. But timing is everything. So if we had met earlier, he’d have been that guy miserable in his job, or too busy helping his sick mother, or off finding himself on a tour of South America. And because timing is everything, I may be single now but I’m not ready to date—to trust someone and have my heart broken all over again. Plus, now he’ll be paying me, so we need to keep our relationship strictly professional. Even so, I’m glad that I’ll have this eve
ryday connection and access to him. Let’s be honest, between those ocean blue eyes of his and CrossFit, he’s a fine specimen to spend time looking at.
WHEN I MEET Jordan for breakfast, she is already downstairs in the restaurant drinking her coffee.
“How was the hike?” she asks when she sees me.
“It was gorgeous and soul soothing.”
“I’m digging this peaceful, enlightened Allison.”
I laugh. “As I said before, there are two choices: being utterly depressed in a hole or viewing this as an opportunity.”
“You got all that from your hike?”
“Actually, I think I got it from you at the bar when everything first went down.”
She laughs her infectious laugh and then asks carefully, “So today is a good day?”
“I think so.” I nod. “Yes, today is a new start.”
“Amen to that.” Jordan holds up her coffee cup and clinks it with mine.
Yes, it’s going to be a great day.
“What time is your astrological soul reading?” Jordan asks with a grin.
“I know you’re making fun of me, but deep down I know that you totally want to try it.”
She laughs. “You got me. But this is my only time off for pampering, so I’m opting for taking care of my physical body. I’ll deal with my soul when I have more free time.” She frowns. “Although, I’m a lawyer so I have no soul.”
“Oh, stop.” I slap her arm. “My reading’s at ten. I had to give them all this information beforehand like my birth date, city, and so on for them to do my chart.”
“Or so they can Google you?”
“Skepticism has no place as I start my new path,” I admonish and wave a finger at her. “But, yeah. Probably that, too.”
Even so, I’m excited about it.
I WASN’T SURE what to expect—an astrologer dressed like Zoltar on those old fortune-telling machines with crystals littering his office?—but it wasn’t the mild-mannered gentleman sitting across from me in his khakis and polo shirt in what looks like my old English professor’s office. True, the books on the shelves all deal with metaphysics and astrology and the maps on the walls are of the solar system, but I was kinda hoping for something more “mystical” to give the guy some street cred.