by Hale, Mandy
Finally the day came when the documentary was done and ready to be debuted at my company’s very important quarterly meeting, where we would share with our stakeholders everything we had been working on for the past few months. I was a nervous wreck. I had really gone out on a limb at my new job to get approval to shoot the video. Plus, this was my first foray into producing since the Great CMT Debacle of ’05. What if it was terrible? What if my boss hated it? What if we didn’t convey the right message? What if?
I was drowning in a sea of what-ifs when I looked up and saw Mr. E coming toward me. He was there, at my very important meeting, to be my support system as the documentary debuted. Though I had mentioned the event to both him and Crawford in passing, I didn’t actually expect them to show up. Guys can be terrible with details. How did Mr. E even remember the correct date and time of my little event when he could scarcely remember his own parents’ birthdays?
Yet here I was, standing in the opulent hallway of the Frist Center for the Visual Arts and on the edge of what I hoped wasn’t career suicide, and there he was, walking toward me in a suit and tie and with a fresh haircut and a big, encouraging smile on his face.
He had stepped up, and it meant the world to me. The documentary went off without a hitch. We even received a standing ovation.
How different things could go when you included God in the plan.
Over the next couple of weeks, Mr. E and I continued to spend more time together. We continued to grow closer, and for a moment, it seemed as if he was finally going to give in to whatever this thing was that we had between us and see what happened on the other side of taking a chance.
I was also quickly becoming besties with Crawford, which could have easily been awkward, since he was Mr. E’s best friend, but it really wasn’t. Crawford was going through so much turmoil at that moment in his life that it helped him to have a female friend to go to for understanding and clarity.
“I’ll probably have to take on a roommate,” Crawford explained to me one day as we sat at Starbucks, nursing his broken heart with a cookie and a Frappuccino. “I can’t really afford to keep up the mortgage now that I’ll be paying child support too.”
“I’m so sorry, Crawford,” I said sympathetically. “You don’t deserve this. When I get back from Florida in a week or so, I’ll come over and help you weed through applicants so you don’t wind up living with a weirdo.”
“Thanks.” He shot me a halfhearted smile. “Where are you going in Florida again?”
“We’re taking my nieces to Disney World for the first time. I can’t wait!” I replied with a grin. My sister and her husband have two girls whom I positively adore: Emma, who was almost five at the time, and Olivia, who was one year old. To get to see their faces as they gazed upon Mickey and Minnie and the Magic Kingdom for the first time was worth the “vacation boot camp” my sister often put us through. She was a teacher, meaning she was the most organized person on the planet, and she had already issued itineraries to my mom and my dad and me, documenting our every move in Disney World. She had even scheduled in our bathroom breaks. And of course every day would begin, bright and early, at seven in the morning. My face turned from excited to glum as I thought about the week of structured “fun” I was about to endure.
“Maybe I should just stay here and help you interview room-mates,” I said, my shoulders slumping.
Crawford suddenly looked up from the table with realization, like he was about to have one of his Albert Einstein moments.
“You could,” he said with a grin. “Or you could just be my roommate!”
“Wait, what?” I exclaimed in surprise. “Are you serious?”
“Think about it. It’s perfect!” he replied with excitement. “You want to move back to Nashville. I need a roommate. We have a blast together. It would be awesome!”
I pondered the thought for a few moments.
“Hmm. Well, it’s something to think about, I guess,” I mused.
“Tell you what,” Crawford said. “You pray about it while you’re in Florida, and I’ll be praying about it too, and when you get back, we’ll see how we both feel. Sound good?”
“Sounds perfect!” I replied with a smile. We sealed the deal with a clink of our plastic Frappuccino cups.
Later that night a few of my close friends and Mr. E threw me a little send-off party at our friend Mike’s house. Mike had a fabulous deck and backyard, and I remember being happy and carefree as we played music, danced, and enjoyed the beautiful spring evening. The next day I was leaving for a week in Florida, and Mr. E would be interviewing an infamous reality star we’ll call Shayla Sanders, who had just moved to Nashville, for his column. We were all teasing Mr. E about it, since the starlet was known more for being a hot mess than for her hot-ness.
“Be careful when you’re in the same room with her,” I joked. “I hear she’s a real Venus flytrap when it comes to men. Get anywhere in her vicinity, and she’ll eat you alive!”
“I’m going to miss you while you’re gone,” he said, hugging me tight. “I’ll call you every day.” He pulled back and looked me deep in the eyes. “And I think we should have a talk when you get back. About us. Would that be okay?”
I smiled, my heart doing its usual flip-flop that it did when he was anywhere near.
“That sounds great,” I replied, leaning in to give him a light kiss.
But that talk would never happen, for reasons I could never have imagined in that moment.
By the time I returned home from Disney World a week and a half later, Mr. E would be living with Shayla Sanders.
Mr. E’s promise to call me every day in reality translated into one call, on the first day I was gone, and I missed it because my family and I were on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. (You’ve gotta love the irony in that since that movie had been one of my first dates with Mr. E.) When I called him back later that night, I got no response. And then nine days went by without a single peep from him.
Still, I didn’t really give it much thought since I was busy having so much fun with my family. We stayed at a hotel in the park that had two gigantic ceramic dogs from 101 Dalmations in the courtyard, and my niece Olivia’s reaction to them was priceless. Though she only knew a few words, every morning when we left the hotel to head over to the park, she would screech and squeal and wave her arms in the air in excitement.
“Doggie!” she crowed with the same exuberance every day as she had the very first time she saw them. “Doggie, doggie, doggie, doggie, doggie!”
We had a blast, despite my drill instructor’s—oops—I mean, my sister’s rigid itinerary. And despite the fact that she insisted on wearing a fanny pack all through the park, even though fanny packs were more extinct than the dinosaurs we saw in DinoLand at Animal Kingdom. We went on an African safari, visited the World Showcase at Epcot, had dinner in Cinderella’s Magic Castle, and watched the Main Street Electrical Parade and the fireworks display at the Magic Kingdom. It was reminiscent of the trip my parents had taken my sister and me on when we were just about my nieces’ ages, and it was just as magical and wonderful seeing the park through their eyes as it was seeing it through my own eyes twenty-five years earlier.
I also had a chance to spend some alone time, praying about the idea of becoming Crawford’s roommate. The more I prayed about it, the better I felt about it. Crawford was one of the most authentic Christians I had ever been around, and the idea of living in an environment of happiness, praise, and love for God just felt right. Plus, throw in the fact that his house was ten minutes from my office and the rent would be dirt cheap, and I was sold! I knew that when I got back to town, I was ready to tell him I wanted us to be roommates.
Another guy friend of mine with whom I had been friends for years, Steven, just happened to be visiting Orlando at the same time I was, and we had the chance to get together for lunch one day. Steven and I had hung out sporadically over the years and always had a good laugh when we got together. I had placed him firmly
in the Friend Zone three years earlier, though, and couldn’t imagine that he would ever find his way out. I just didn’t have those kinds of feelings for him. Still, he was a supersweet guy, and I loved having someone to go to when I needed the male perspective on things. I filled him in on the latest with Mr. E over lunch and shared my excitement with him about the big talk Mr. E and I had planned when I returned home.
Of course, I should have known the fact that Mr. E had basically dropped off the face of the earth since I had been in Florida was foreshadowing of a deeper issue, but I was busy having fun with my family and didn’t want to spend my entire vacation stressing and obsessing over a guy. It wasn’t until my phone rang on the drive home that I got the first real hint that everything back home wasn’t as I had left it.
It was one of my closest girlfriends Beth.
“Mandy,” she said with a hint of foreboding. “We saw Mr. E out last night.”
I was still so blissed out and relaxed from my vacation that I didn’t catch on to the obvious undertone in her voice. “Okay?”
“He was with Shayla Sanders,” Beth went on.
“Oh, right. Well, he’s been working with her on a story, so I’m sure it was nothing,” I replied, then paused. “Wait, are you saying it was something?”
Beth was quiet for a moment. “I don’t want to ring the alarm prematurely, but, Mandy, it really looked like there could be something going on between them.”
“Are you serious?” I gasped. “Between Mr. E and Shayla Sanders?!” I can honestly say the thought or concern had never entered my mind. I thought she had too many red flags surrounding her for Mr. E to even entertain the idea of her as anything other than an interview subject. She was basically a walking red flag.
“Well, have you heard from him since you’ve been in Florida?” Beth asked. “Maybe I’m just imagining things. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Actually,” I hesitated, “I’ve only heard from him once. Then when I called him back, he never returned my call.” The first inklings of dread started to flare up in my gut.
“Oh,” Beth replied. “Well, maybe it’s still nothing. Just wait till you get back, and then you’ll talk to him, and it will be fine.”
“I hope so,” I said with doubt, now feeling a nagging in my gut that I couldn’t quite explain. “Thanks for telling me, Beth. I’ll call you when I get home.”
When I still hadn’t heard from Mr. E by the time I got home, I tried reaching him again. Still no answer.
So I called Crawford, deciding there was no time like the present to tell him I wanted to be roommates.
Crawford answered the phone with a jubilant: “Mandy, I want us to be roommates!”
I giggled. “Me too! That’s why I was calling you!”
“Woo hoo!” he bellowed, causing me to have to hold the phone out from my ear to keep my eardrum from bursting.
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t think it will be weird at all. I adore you like a brother, and I know you feel the same way about me,” I chirped excitedly. “And I know I had a moment of weirdness wondering if Mr. E would be okay with it or if it would be awkward, but you know I’ve worked really hard to keep my friendship with you separate from him and not prod you for information about him. And besides, I really think things between me and E are about to take a more serious turn. So why would he care if I’m roommates with his best friend?”
Crawford got very quiet.
“What?” I asked. “Oh, did he not tell you about the talk we’re supposed to have when I got back? He wants to talk about us!”
“Mandy,” Crawford began slowly, “did he not call you while you were out of town?”
“Oh, yeah, he did, but I missed his call. Then when I tried calling him back I got no answer. But wait, why are you asking me that?” “I mean, did he not call you and actually talk to you about anything going on here?” Crawford asked, a note of concern in his voice.
“No.” My heart started to pound. “Why?”
Crawford sighed in frustration. “Mandy, you should call him and talk to him now. Right now.”
“I’ve tried, and he won’t answer my calls! Crawford, what’s going on? You have to tell me.”
“Mandy, I can’t. This has to come from him.”
“But he’s avoiding me, obviously! And you’re one of my best friends, so please just tell me what in the world is going on!” I was on the verge of tears.
Crawford heaved another deep sigh.
“Mandy, I don’t even know how to say this to you,” he began. “I can’t believe I even have to say this to you.” He took a deep breath. “Mandy, Mr. E moved in with Shayla Sanders a few days ago.”
My heart skipped a beat. I started to grow faint. I could feel my lunch starting to rise in my throat.
“What?!”
And suddenly, even though everything was still fuzzy and wrong, the situation started to grow alarmingly clear.
Crawford went on to tell me, as lovingly as he possibly could, how Mr. E had interviewed Shayla for the story he was working on a week and a half prior, and how he came back raving about the “instant connection” they shared. It was an intensive piece that Mr. E was writing for his newspaper, and they were spending long hours of extreme intimacy together since the article was an exposé on Shayla’s very colorful life. Within a few days, the two of them were together all the time. Then a couple of days ago Mr. E called Crawford to tell him that since he rented a one-room studio and Shayla had a large, sprawling home in one of the nicest neighborhoods in Nashville, it just made sense for him to give up his place and move in with her.
It “made sense”? Nothing about this made sense. I go out of town for a week and a half, and the entire world goes insane?
And how could Mr. E not have the decency to tell me himself instead of leaving it to his best friend to break the news to me? What kind of a person does that? How could he do something like this, when it felt like we were finally on the verge of becoming a real couple?
I was devastated. Absolutely crushed. Everything about our relationship, from day one, felt like it had been a lie. Particularly the new closeness and kinship we had developed over the days before I left for Florida.
The irony in the whole situation was now that Mr. E was with Shayla, he never darkened the door of Crawford’s house anymore. So any lingering concerns about me becoming roommates with Crawford went right out the window because I wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into Mr. E at Crawford’s. Or anywhere, for that matter. He was completely, wholly, entirely consumed by this relationship. It was staggeringly difficult to make sense of. I knew Mr. E was a spontaneous person who tended to get swept up in the moment, but this was bizarre behavior, even for him. It was as if, overnight, he became someone I didn’t know. But then again, maybe I had never truly known him.
My friend Steven came over the next day to help me start packing for my big move and found me in a mess of tears and wadded up tissues and melted ice cream. I relayed the whole story to him, and he sat there with his mouth hanging open in disbelief. He listened without judgment and let me rant, scream, throw things, and do everything I needed to do, then he put his arm around me and let me cry on his shoulder for hours without complaint. That’s the great thing about guy friends—they have much broader shoulders to cry on. I was so grateful to Steven that night and in the days that followed, as he helped me navigate the often treacherous and unfriendly waters of complete and utter heartbreak.
I also cried out to God, asking Him why. Why was this happening? Why was Mr. E not the person I thought he was? Why did he choose Shayla over me? Why did he seemingly turn his back on God to follow his own selfish desires? Why, why, why? I have always had a very open, honest relationship with God, and sometimes that results in us having it out. I’ll yell, I’ll scream, I’ll shake my fist, I’ll tell God just how angry I am at Him, then I’ll collapse on my face before Him in a heap of humility and surrender in unwavering love and tell Him that no matter
what, I trust Him. Despite my confusion, pain, and feelings of betrayal about what Mr. E had done, I still knew in my heart that God was in control and was going to redeem this situation in some way. I still felt the calling in my life that I was meant to do something great, and if this was part of the plan to get me there, then so be it.
Two weeks after I returned home from Florida, I moved into Crawford’s house, and we officially became roomies. I was more than ready for a fresh start. Steven, Crawford, and Beth were there to help me get settled in, and after a long day of moving, the four of us sleepily clinked our Starbucks cups together in celebration.
It was time for a new chapter.
Chapter 11
Highs and Lows
One day not long after my big move, I was at my parents’ house packing up a few things I still had in storage there when I stumbled across the drawer of my New Kids on the Block stash. Like many girls of my generation, at the age of ten, I had fallen in love for the first time with not just one guy but five: Joey, Jordan, Jonathan, Donnie, and Danny—better known as the New Kids on the Block. As any thirty-something woman can attest, NKOTB were the Beatles of our era. Most women of my generation, when asked who their first love was, will sigh and say one of those five familiar names. Their exuberant innocence, rat tails, ripped jeans, and lovelorn lyrics melted the hearts of preteen and teenage girls across the world, much to the dismay of teenage boys across the world. As I poked through that drawer of memories almost twenty years later—the scrapbooks, posters, and a few fan letters my sister and I had written but never mailed—a very nostalgic feeling started to take over. The feeling stayed with me throughout the next few weeks, until one day I came upon an announcement as I was flipping through the channels looking for something to watch on TV.
“The New Kids on the Block Reunite!” the headline screamed, and though the teenybopper in me had long been replaced by a mature woman, my heart stopped and my face instantly flushed as my NKOTB radar surged back to life. I grabbed the nearest phone and punched in my sister’s number at lightning speed.