by Ariella Papa
“Well,” I say, locking my jaw together afterward.
“I think it’s interesting that you chose these three to highlight,” he says, holding up the one-sheets I did.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” Great. “I think this one is too much like Esme.”
“Oh,” I sigh, and shake my head.
“No, but that’s really the only one I have an issue with. I think the space and underwater ideas are very promising. I feel like they would have to be animated, because the cost to do it live action would be sky-high. So work that out, think about scaling some ideas back for the space one in case we pitch it to a network that isn’t comfortable with animation.”
Don has lost the slick producer voice and is talking like he really wants to work on developing these. He looks back at the pile of papers and picks one of them up. He pats it a few times and looks up at me.
“This, this is really a good one. You’re calling her Kim, but I think you should switch the names with the Robin you are using in the underwater one. A kids’ cooking show. How perfect! We’ll pitch it to all those lifestyle channels and kids’ TV. And we can skew the adult supervision you mention here, depending on who we are going for. You’re brilliant!” He takes a giant bite of his salad.
“Thank you,” I say. “Why do you want me to change the characters?”
“Well, I like how you’ve given your young cook braces. I see lots of funny eating shots, spaghetti getting stuck in braces, metal fork to metal brackets—” he is talking really fast now, like his juices are flowing and he can’t stop shoveling greens into his mouth “—I think we need to call it Robin’s Recipes or something.”
“Well, do you think we have to do alliteration? Isn’t that old?” It’s not easy to say this to the man who developed Gus and the Gopher, Bob in the Barn and Amy’s Animal Adventures. He cocks his head and smirks at me like he has never heard anything so ridiculous. I fear that this could be the deal breaker.
“Rebecca, we want to be cutting edge, but there are some rules we can’t break. It’s either alliteration or rhyme. I don’t know, maybe you can play with kitchen—Gretchen’s Kitchen.”
“I see,” I say, and eat my last bite of chicken. I obviously still have a lot to learn about kids’ TV.
I didn’t get to go for a run this morning. It’s probably for the best since the race is this weekend and I want to conserve my energy. I walk up along the river to get back home. When I turn down my block I see that Beth is sitting on our stoop smoking a cigarette. I haven’t been alone with her in a while and I start to feel nervous. She doesn’t look up at me as I head down the street, giving me a chance to study her. She looks thin, and even though she is dressed really well, her hair is kind of a mess. She looks like she hasn’t changed since last night.
“Hey,” I say, startling her when I get to the building. She jumps up a little and turns to me. She has sunglasses on and I wish I could see her eyes.
“Hi,” she says. She looks as antsy as I feel. “I was looking for my brother. Do you know if he’s home?”
“I don’t think so,” I say. I look at the door as if it knows the answer. “Did you try the bell?”
She nods. I know that there is something wrong with her, but I just don’t think she will tell me. I try, anyway.
“Are you all right?” She nods.
“Do you want to come upstairs and wait for him?” She shakes her head. Above her glasses I see her eyebrows knit a little. She sighs.
“You’re sure you’re all right? You can talk to me.” She doesn’t do anything, but then she shakes her head and takes a big breath. I know she doesn’t want to talk to me about whatever it is. I’m not even sure she would talk to Tommy.
“Do you want a hug?” I ask. It’s a last resort. Instead of shaking or nodding her head, she stands there still until I put my arms around her.
“Thanks,” she says, pulling away. “Sorry.”
“No problem. Sometimes we all need a hug. Did you have a rough night?”
“No, I should go.” She starts to get flustered.
“Wait, listen, let’s go over to Film Center Café and get a drink.”
I see her internally debate, and then she agrees and we walk over to Ninth Avenue to the café. She seems kind of shaky and nervous, but I’m happy to actually have her with me.
We order drinks and she barely touches hers. She doesn’t remove her sunglasses. I keep the conversation light—I basically babble about nothing—but she doesn’t seem to mind.
“I think I need to stop partying so much,” she says finally. I wait to let her finish. I could lay it out on the table and lecture her on sleeping with people’s exes and partying too much, but she looks defeated. “I think—I think I’m having trouble with all this.”
Her lip shakes a little. I feel myself starting to get emotional, too. She is in some kind of pain I just don’t get. More than knowing why and demanding an explanation, I just want to listen and be here.
“I, uh, don’t know these days what’s going on with me, you know. I can’t make heads or tails of anything I do.”
“I know how you feel,” I say. “Things get pretty confusing these days.”
“Yeah.” She studies one of her nails.
“You know, I read about this,” I say. “It’s called the quarter-life crisis. It’s not uncommon for women our age to feel this way.”
When she smirks at me I realize that I sound like I’m giving a lecture. “Oh, really, Rebecca, where did you read about this?”
I’m already laughing when I say, “The New York Times Sunday Styles section.” And she laughs, too. The kind of laugh you have when you are very close to crying, the kind of laugh you have when there is nothing else to do.
Nancy is over when I get up in the morning. She is wearing sneakers and running clothes. I was hoping to talk to Tommy about Beth. Nancy is bright and cheerful, as usual.
“What are you up to?” Her blond hair is pulled into a perfect ponytail. I push a strand of my unruly hair behind my ear.
“I was going to run in the Race for the Park. Are you?” I was certain Tommy had forgotten about the bet the night we went to Half King.
“Yeah, we are.” Are human voices really this high and chirpy? Tommy comes out of the bathroom. He looks very fit in his T-shirt and shorts. “Tom, isn’t it great? Rebecca is going to run the race, too.”
“I know,” he says, and smiles at me and points at Nancy. “She is totally forcing me to do it.”
He has forgotten. He is just doing it for her.
“Tom, don’t tease.” Clearly this is someone who spends too much time with toddlers. “Now we can all go together.”
“Actually, I have to leave now. I told Kathy and Janice I was going to meet up with them beforehand for a bagel.” Nancy looks crushed and I feel bad, but running this race is going to be torturous enough. I just don’t think I can stand to watch them coo over each other on the subway. I hastily make my exit.
“You need to carbo-load for energy,” Kathy advises. We are waiting for Janice and John in the bagel store near the park. It is so brutally hot out that we need an air conditioner. Kathy has just finished complaining to me about the bridal shop where all of our hideous bridesmaid dresses have been held hostage for more money than was agreed to. Kathy managed to liberate them with the help of the contract and Jill, who works in the legal department of Kathy’s office and knows enough of the language to intimidate. Now we are having our fitting somewhere in Chelsea. The final fitting is next week and I am expected to be there in spite of the plans I made to go to Block Island with Ben. Lauryn is also being summoned from the Vineyard, even though she was planning on moving to Boston.
I am in no mood to be trifled with today. Kathy talked me into running in this stupid race and I’m certain Nancy and Tommy are going to be waiting way before me at the finish line, holding hands. After six miles I am going to stink. I’ve gotten myself into all of this because I don’t stand up to
Kathy. Well, I am about to give her a piece of my mind. In fact, I am about to get a sausage, egg and cheese sandwich and say “fuck off” to this whole running thing. I was not meant to run for anything. Who was I kidding? The winter is coming—I need fat to insulate me.
Lucky for Kathy, Janice shows up at the very moment I am about to bring forth my rage. John is in tow and he looks even more miserable than I do.
“It’s hotter than hell and she gets me up to run,” he whispers to me.
“You’d be ready if you’d trained,” Janice says. “Look at Rebecca. She trained. She’s ready.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Real ready.”
“Come on, Rebecca,” Kathy says. “It’s for your own good. Look how great you look. You’re going to be beautiful at the wedding.”
I want blood, but I must channel it into the race I am obviously helpless to get out of. I would rather not have Nanny Nancy learn that I chickened out.
“Way to go dissing Hackett,” Janice says.
“You’re everyone’s hero,” John says. If nothing else, that motivates me.
After chowing down our bagels we are waiting at the starting line for the signal. According to John you can’t just have a race in the city for the hell of it. He thinks it has to be for something and there have to be a ton of speakers telling you how wonderful you are for giving your money and energy to whatever charity you are running for. In this case, I collected money from Ben and the people at the bar to help the parks, but I don’t need to hear how thankful the city is. I am anxious to start.
“I would like to just get on with it,” John whispers to me.
“Tell me about it.”
“We could ditch and go to a bar,” he says. I am ready to agree because through the crowd I spot Tommy’s head and below it Nancy’s ponytail.
“Shut up,” Janice says to John. Then she kisses his hand.
“Hey, isn’t that Tommy? You didn’t tell me he was doing this,” Kathy says. Before I can say anything, she starts to wave and yell. Jesus. “Tommy! Hey, Tommy!”
Of course, Tommy turns and waves. Nancy turns, too, and, seeing me, smiles and brings Tommy over. She is completely psyched to run into me.
“Hey, Rebecca,” she says, her smile making me feel even more guilty. “I’m so glad we ran into you. Tommy was such a slowpoke this morning. I told him we should have picked a meeting place so we could start with you guys. Hi, I’m Nancy.”
She shakes hands with all of my friends. How did Tommy find someone so flawless and so opposite to me?
“Now we can all run together,” Nancy says.
“Actually, I’m a pretty slow runner,” Janice says. “I don’t want anyone to wait for me—not even John.”
“Actually, I probably won’t make it to the finish line,” John says. Janice glares at him.
“Yes, you will,” she says. And he will.
“Why don’t we start together and see how it goes?” Tommy asks Nancy. He catches my eye, and I know that he’s said that for my benefit.
We get the countdown, and the gun—or whatever it is they use—goes off. There are so many people starting out that we barely get to run until we are about a half mile in. Immediately, I start breathing heavier. We lose Janice and John pretty quickly. John wasn’t kidding about not being prepared.
“It’s okay, breathe in and out,” Kathy says. She starts talking to me, trying to keep me breathing properly by talking. I am able to do this until about two miles. By then I am dripping with sweat. It’s just too hot. Tommy and Nancy keep looking over at me. I wish they would stop.
We get to a hilly part of Central Park. It’s not a big hill, but the course along the river or from my apartment to Union Square is very flat. I am not prepared for this. I wonder how John is handling it.
“You should lean over like this,” Nancy says. “It will help your momentum.”
“Thanks,” I say. Normally I would try to convey what a nice, non-bitter ex-girlfriend I am in every word I say to her—but not this time. I am too hot and overexerted for pretense. I turn to Kathy. “I think I’m going to fall behind and take my walking break now.”
“Just wait until we reach three miles. It’s going to get better in a sec.” Kathy has granted me one two-minute walking break. Well, she suggested that’s all I take, but I have a feeling she is going to be disappointed.
“Let’s run up ahead,” Tommy says to Nancy. I’m so glad. “C’mon.”
“I’ll see you at the end,” I grunt. I make sure to smile at Nancy this time. A little pretense is palatable if it gets me away from the happy healthy couple.
They run ahead and I slow down. Kathy exaggerates her breathing as an example of what I should be doing.
“You don’t have to wait with me,” I say, trying to get the words out.
“I want to. Come on, you’re doing great. Don’t worry about talking. Just breathe.”
We run along like this for a while. We run past the guy who announces the three-mile mark. I look at Kathy, who shakes her head and mutters words of encouragement. I run beside her, trying to imitate her breath. It works, but after a few minutes, I really need a walking break.
“Okay, I’m going to slow down. I’ll see you at the finish line.”
“Are you sure? I can slow down, too.”
“I know you don’t want to walk, so just go ahead. I’ll see you there.” Somehow Kathy manages to give me a running hug and cheer me on. Then she takes off and I know she’s been holding out on me.
I slow, then stop and walk. Two minutes, it’s going to help. I breathe heavily. People are passing me—I feel like a loser. I look behind me for Janice and John. They are nowhere in sight. Maybe he convinced her to go to the bar, after all. Ugh, if I had a beer right now I would throw up. A cheese plate might be perfect, though. I pass the four-mile mark. According to my watch I have been walking for one minute and thirty-four seconds, but everyone is going by me. Oh, what the fuck? I start to run again, ahead of schedule, for the record.
This time I relax. I think about how Kathy was breathing. I repeat it over and over, in and out. I will finish. I’ve got to finish. I remember the day I ran along the river. Go back to that feeling of peace, Rebecca! Okay, I’m there. I feel strong. I can do that. I have a decent pace as I go past the five-mile marker.
I am doing this. I am almost done. I am running. I am a runner. I am sweating and gasping, but I am a runner. That’s like an athlete. That’s what I am. When I’m done, I will be able to eat whatever I want, because I have already burned the calories. That’s what runners do—they (we!) eat and run.
But wait a second, I’ve passed the six-mile mark. Shit! Fuck! The .2 miles! It’s 6.2 miles. It’s a 10-K. Why is this the only place we really use the metric system? Why can’t I just be done with my exercise for the year? Why does running suck so much? I can’t breathe! I am floating in my sweat. I hate Kathy! I hate Janice! All runners are assholes.
“Hey,” says Tommy, jogging toward me. I won’t be fooled. He is some kind of mirage, like you get in the desert when you are dehydrated. That’s what it is. He is going to say that even though I am falling for Ben, he has decided to live as a monk and support me at all costs. After all, there are no other women like me, so why try to accept alternatives?
“Rebecca, are you all right?” Tommy asks. He might be real.
“Well, I’m running. How all right could I be? What are you doing?” He turns and starts running alongside me.
“Well, some people at the finish line are very upset with me, because I turned around after I went through.”
“Are you crazy? Why did you do that?”
“When I passed the six-mile mark, I knew you would probably be ready to give up. I thought I’d make sure you did it.”
“Thank you,” I say. It’s better than a vow of chastity and a constant candle held for me. It’s what a friend would do.
“Kathy tried to turn around, too. She is really worried about you. She turned around when they started
yelling at her.”
“She’s a wimp,” I say, smiling. Along the police barricade people are cheering. This is fabulous. I’ve never been cheered before. It’s better than solid ratings. It’s almost better than rock shrimp tempura.
“Only another few yards,” Tommy yells over the crowd. Then he starts humming the theme from Chariots of Fire, so I’m laughing when I go past the finish line.
Kathy throws her arms around me and hands me some water. I even let Nancy hug me despite my river of sweat.
“You did it,” Kathy keeps saying. “You did it.”
24
Me
To celebrate our completion of the race, we decide to go to Peter McManus. It’s an old Irish pub in Chelsea that Lauryn and I used to go to a lot when we lived in the Flatiron district. Janice and John are moving in with each other in Chelsea and have never hung out down there. I tell them about Peter McManus and spend a good twenty minutes singing the praises of Whole Foods and Chelsea Market.
“You’re really into food, aren’t you? Not that that’s a bad thing,” Nancy says. She is trying to be nice to me. She is not from New York—it’s just her nature. It can’t be easy to have your new boyfriend living with his ex-girlfriend.
“Yes,” I say, smiling. This time I really will try to be mature.
“She actually helped me make your dinner,” Tommy says.
“It was wonderful, thank you.”
“Sure. Speaking of food…” I say, flagging the waitress over.
“We have a fish-and-chip special,” she says.
“You love fish and chips,” Kathy says.
“I do,” I say. “But I’ll have the turkey club.”
I go to the little phone booth by the jukebox and call Knuckle Sandwich. I know Ben was doing prep this morning and working the lunch crowd.