Point, Click, Love

by Molly Shapiro

  That evening Claudia went home in such a good mood, she forgot to transform into her bitchy self for Steve. So for the first time in months, she was actually kind of nice to him.

  “Hey, Steve, how’s it going?”

  Steve looked up from the sofa where he was watching TV, startled by his wife’s lack of venom. “Fine?” he asked, not sure whether this was real or some kind of trap.

  “Watching the news? That’s good.” Claudia sat down on the arm of the sofa. “Man, I haven’t watched the evening news in forever. Who they got now? Peter Jennings? I love Peter Jennings.”

  “Um, Claudia, Peter Jennings died years ago.”

  “That’s right. He was just so … so timeless. You know? Like he was never going to die. But we all die, don’t we? So no point in frittering away our time.”

  “Look, Claudia, don’t start. I was only just sitting here—”

  “Oh, no, Steve,” Claudia practically shouted. He had totally misunderstood. “I wasn’t saying anything about you. Just thinking about life and how it’s over before we know it. That’s all. You know me. I get that way sometimes.”

  Steve knew all too well the many moods of Claudia. The contemplative Claudia, the boisterous Claudia, the I’m-having-an-existential-crisis Claudia, the I-hate-everyone Claudia, and, most recently, the I-love-everyone Claudia. Yes, she was moody, but Steve was the one person who was able to handle her wild swings.

  Claudia had always been a “handful,” as her parents liked to put it. She was outspoken and strong willed and fearless. Growing up in the conservative Midwest, she quickly gravitated to the left. Her parents, who were devout Republicans, insisted that she chose her politics based on the number of potential arguments she could have per capita. In high school she was the editor of the newspaper and used her position to argue her causes. She was always the one standing outside school gathering names on petitions for the cause of the moment, and she was probably the only fourteen-year-old manning the polls on Election Day. Her parents never once praised her for her command of the issues, her initiative, or even her spunk. But the lack of encouragement never deterred Claudia.

  She had her heart set on going to Berkeley for college, but her parents insisted they could only afford to send her to an in-state school, so she went to the University of Kansas. Claudia managed to find a sufficient number of liberal, sensitive, artsy types, but none of them seemed to match her temperament as well as the brash football players, the boisterous frat boys, and the pompous president of the Young Republicans club.

  Claudia was a striking presence at almost six feet tall, with long brown hair as thick as a Kennedy’s and almond-shaped brown eyes. She tried dating a slender boy who majored in ceramics and later the bookish editor of the college literary magazine, but while their intellects were in synch, their bodies weren’t.

  Every now and then, Claudia and her friends would venture to one of the fraternity parties, partly for the free beer but mostly to gather material for their late-night bitching sessions, where they lamented their lot in having to go to college in the farmlands of Kansas and plotted ways to transfer to Berkeley. One weekend they opted for a luau-themed party where everyone wore grass skirts and leis, but they defiantly did not.

  “Hey, baby, wanna get ‘lei-ed’?” asked a soon-to-be-wasted football player wearing a blue and yellow sarong and holding up a necklace of fake fuchsia flowers.

  Claudia looked at him blankly, considering whether to walk away or attempt a witty comeback that would most certainly go over his head. “Yes, I’d love to get laid,” she said, surprising even herself. For a split second she imagined this mammoth man seizing her, sure he could beat a lawsuit with those words ringing in his head, but then she relaxed, figuring she could handle even this meathead.

  “Awesome,” he said, placing the lei around her neck and walking on.

  Claudia smiled.

  “What’s so funny?” asked another guy, a little smaller than the first but still big, wearing only a grass skirt—his impressive physique on full display.

  “You guys,” said Claudia.

  “Oh, really? You find us funny?”

  “Yeah, extremely funny.”

  The boy paused, blatantly looking Claudia up and down. “You’re tall.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “And pretty.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I’ve never seen you before.”

  “Not surprising, considering about twenty thousand people go here.”

  “My name’s Mike. What’s yours?”

  “Claudia.”

  “You want to go out on a date, Claudia?”

  A date? thought Claudia. People don’t go out on “dates” in college, unless, of course, they live in a frat house. There was something quaint about the notion.

  “Sure, why not,” said Claudia. And before she knew it, she was giving this stranger her phone number.

  Mike called the next day and arranged to take Claudia out that weekend. He picked her up in an old Cadillac convertible and took her to an Italian restaurant with velvet wallpaper and red leather booths. He wore a light blue polo shirt that showed off his bluish-gray eyes, and his thick black hair was still wet. After getting permission from Claudia to order for the two of them, he asked for a bottle of Chianti, fried ravioli for an appetizer, and chicken spiedini.

  “I feel like I’m going to the prom,” said Claudia.

  “Why? You never had a guy take you out before?”

  “Not really.”

  “Most guys, they don’t know how to treat a lady.”

  Claudia was surprised when that first date led to a second, then a third, until finally they were a real couple. She couldn’t believe how pliable she was around Mike, how they never argued about anything. He wasn’t particularly political or opinionated, but every now and then he’d come out with some stupid remark about commies or welfare moms, and she would just let it go. Why was she suddenly so easygoing? Because she was finally getting laid.

  Claudia didn’t have a boyfriend in high school, mostly because she towered over everyone. And the boys she hung out with in college didn’t appeal to her. With his muscular body and manly good looks, Mike was the first boy she felt sexually attracted to.

  Claudia was nervous the night she decided to lose her virginity, but Mike was as adept in bed as he was in a cheap Italian restaurant.

  “You sure you want to do it tonight?” Mike asked with a smile, confident that Claudia was ripe for the plucking.

  “Uh-huh,” said Claudia, enjoying the feeling of letting herself go, of letting someone else call the shots.

  Mike was gentle and affectionate but also strong and authoritative. Claudia couldn’t believe what she had been missing all those years.

  Some of her friends, on the other hand, couldn’t quite figure it out.

  “I don’t get what you see in that guy,” said her roommate, Barb. “He’s so … right-wing.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re not going to get it unless you sleep with him,” said Julie, who immediately understood the attraction.

  “Why don’t we all go out together one of these days?” suggested Barb.

  Claudia had been avoiding doing that for months, fearing that exposing the relationship to the outside world could be the end of it. But she could no longer hide Mike from the people who were most important to her.

  She decided they’d all meet for a drink at one of the loudest bars on campus, hoping that they could get drunk, shoot some pool, and avoid too much conversation. Everything was going fine, until Barb started getting mischievous.

  “So, Mike. Did you know that Claudia was once a member of the Socialist Party?”

  Claudia could feel her anger swelling. Why was Barb trying to sabotage her relationship with Mike? But then she caught herself. Barb was only being playful—and honest. Claudia was ashamed. Why was she suddenly so intent on hiding everything about herself? No, she didn’t like the feeling of being outed, but maybe Barb was right. Ma
ybe she should just tell the truth.

  “Briefly,” said Claudia, smiling hopefully at Mike.

  “That’s all in the past, anyway,” said Mike. “Claudia’s a different girl now.”

  Barb and Julie looked at Claudia quizzically. Claudia looked at Mike.

  “What’s all in the past?” asked Claudia.

  “I know you used to be all liberal and stuff. I see the books on your shelf. But you’re not like that anymore.”

  “What makes you think that?” asked Claudia.

  “Well I’m pretty conservative, and we never argue. Right?”

  “Yeah, well, that’s just ’cause I want you to screw me.”

  Julie glanced at Barb, biting her lip. Barb stared down at her drink. And Mike looked like he was about to cry.

  “I’m sorry, Mike,” said Claudia. “That wasn’t nice.”

  “No, that’s fine,” said Mike. “I understand.” He stood up. “I think I’d better go now.” And he left.

  “Oh, God, Claudia, I’m so sorry!” said Barb. “This is all my fault.”

  “No, it’s okay. It had to happen.”

  She knew it did. But Claudia couldn’t help but feel she would never have sex again.

  Then she met Steve.

  Two years out of college, Claudia was working as a temp at a high-powered ad agency in Kansas City. She was ordered to go to Kinko’s, drop off a presentation to be copied, then pick it back up by five o’clock. When she arrived at Kinko’s at four forty-five, she was handed a big box of bound booklets. She flipped through them, making sure everything was in order, but noticed one problem: The copies weren’t double-sided.

  “Excuse me, but I asked for double-sided,” said Claudia with barely contained contempt.

  “I don’t think so, ma’am,” said the young boy behind the counter. “I have the order right here.”

  “I did. I know I did,” said Claudia, getting increasingly frantic by the minute.

  “Look, ma’am—”

  “Stop calling me ma’am!” shouted Claudia, prompting everyone in the store to turn and stare. “I’m barely twenty-three, for God’s sake.”

  “You asked for a lot of things … miss. Color, bright-white paper, three-hole punch … but not double-sided.”

  Claudia looked into the boy’s pockmarked face and quickly realized she needed to talk to someone else. “Let me talk to the manager.”

  The boy went to a back office and out came Steve.

  Steve wore one of those cheap polyester uniforms meant to tame and subjugate employees, but he wore it with a grace and confidence that said: “Yes, I’ll do this for now, but I’m not long for this place.”

  He walked out from behind the counter and went right up to Claudia, getting as close as he could without appearing intimidating. “Can I help you?”

  Claudia gazed up at Steve, who must have been at least six foot five, and decided that if she could not surpass him in height she would surpass him in volume. “I have to get these presentations back to my office in ten minutes, and you people completely screwed them up!”

  Steve looked at her patiently, taking a moment to measure his words. “Look … I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

  “Claudia!” she shouted, annoyed that this man wouldn’t get to the point.

  “Claudia. Let me explain something to you. I’m here to help you. I suggest that the next time you have a problem, you act nicely toward the person who has the power to help you. I would be happy to rerun this order exactly how you want it, and I will get it done as quickly as humanly possible. If you want to continue to waste time by arguing over whose fault this is, go right ahead. Otherwise, why don’t we just get started?”

  Stunned into silence, Claudia realized that this person had taught her something that could possibly change her life. At that moment, she decided that she had to see this man again. But while Claudia and Steve did see each other again and did ultimately get married, the lesson that he taught her that day faded quickly. No one, not even Steve, had ever bothered to explain the concept to her again. Instead, once Steve and Claudia started dating, he accepted her for who she was, embracing her faults—her temper and her stubbornness—and never once asking her to change.

  That was what Claudia appreciated most about Steve, but it was something that she often overlooked. For her part, Claudia wanted to change almost every aspect of Steve. That first day they met, at the local Kinko’s, Steve seemed destined for great things. But he never was able to fulfill Claudia’s vision of what he could be. Maybe that was why she found his carefully constructed virtual life so repugnant. Why couldn’t he live that way in the real world?

  Steve always held decent, well-paying jobs at marketing or pharmaceutical or consulting firms, but somewhere along the way any ambition he might have once had mysteriously disappeared. Sometimes Claudia wondered if her own quick rise to the top of her profession was the reason for Steve’s lack of drive. She went from associate to account executive to supervisor to vice president in less than a decade, switching firms every couple years as she searched for the most prestige and the highest pay and taking off only three months after the twins were born. Was Steve actually intimidated by Claudia’s success? Or did he look at her rising salary as an opportunity to goof off, lose his job, and never go back to work again?

  When Claudia met old friends and acquaintances around town, she often wondered whether they were part of Steve’s simulated universe. One day, she was making a three o’clock coffee run when she bumped into Heather Murphy, a high school friend of Steve’s who had attended their wedding.

  “Hi, Heather!”

  “Claudia! It’s been so long! How are you?”

  “Terrific. And you? You look great!”

  “Thanks. How’s Steve?”

  “Oh, you know. The same. Still out of work.”

  “Really?” asked Heather with a look of puzzlement.

  “I thought everyone knew.”

  “Well, what I know about Steve is mostly from Facebook, and he doesn’t talk about work much. I did wonder, since he posts throughout the day.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that.”

  “No need to apologize! He’s very amusing. I have to say, Claudia, I admire you for being so … understanding.”

  “Well, you know, we’re in a recession, so I can’t get too mad.”

  “No, I mean the Facebook thing. Some of the stuff he puts up there …”

  “Right,” said Claudia, pretending she knew everything. “Yeah, I know.”

  “I mean, I know it’s all in good fun, but I don’t think I’d want Ned writing that kind of stuff.”

  “Oh, sure. It’s all in good fun,” said Claudia.

  “And what’s up with that Marjorie Gooding chick? Remember her? Every time Steve says anything, she’s like: ‘Thumbs up!’ ‘Like that!’ ‘Ha-ha!’ It’s kind of nauseating.”

  “Yes! So annoying!” Claudia exclaimed a little too loudly.

  “Well, I wish you’d write something up there sometime. Would love to hear what’s going on in your life for a change.”

  “Oh, nothing much to say at this point.”

  “Still, I’d love to catch up. Anyway, gotta run. Let’s keep in touch!”

  When Claudia returned to her desk, without coffee, she considered going online right away to see what Steve was up to. But instead she printed out an old invoice, hopped on the elevator, and pressed the button for the fourth floor.

  Chapter Four

  Most people Annie knew kept up with old friends through Facebook or Myspace or Twitter. All Annie had to do was open up The New York Times.

  Annie grew up in New York City, went to a fancy prep school, and studied comparative literature at Yale and business management at Wharton. Along the way, she played hopscotch with a future clothing designer, cheated off the math test of a future filmmaker, smoked her first joint with a future congressman, and made out with a future Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist. But that was just the beginning.
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  It seemed to Annie that every time she read The New York Times she came across at least one name she knew. Once it was a lengthy profile of a guy from her study group at Wharton who’d moved to San Francisco, started an online stock-trading company, sold it for $50 million, then opened a four-star restaurant in Napa, where he was the chef and the entire staff was made up of former drug addicts. Another time she read in the “Vows” section about a girl from her high school who married the son of the ambassador to France, lived in Paris, and wrote a bestselling novel that was about to be made into a major motion picture. One classmate from Yale got written up for potty training her child at only nine months. It seemed that even the stay-at-home moms on the East Coast were overachievers.

  At first, Annie found it amusing to be sitting at her kitchen table in the middle of Overland Park, Kansas, getting these glimpses into her past life, but soon the newspaper that she had once admired and treasured for keeping her abreast of all the latest thoughts and trends and discoveries that would have otherwise passed her by became the bane of her existence.

  Annie had always been one of those people who was destined for great things. She went to the best schools, excelled at everything she did, even made a name for herself on the junior table-tennis circuit. When she graduated from Wharton, she was recruited by Sprint, and while she was hesitant to come to the Midwest, she felt like she was pioneering terrain that she and her fellow easterners knew nothing about. But after a few years, the charms of being a New Yorker in the heartland wore off, and she became just another marketing director at a massive telecommunications company, sitting in a landlocked state far from the city she once loved.

  Meanwhile, everyone else she knew was making millions, creating important works of art, or contributing to the betterment of society—all within a short driving distance of a great beach and a scenic mountain range.

  Once she made the mistake of bemoaning her predicament to her mother, who had been against Annie’s move to Kansas City from the start.

  “Today’s paper was the worst,” said Annie to her mother one Sunday morning after spending three hours reading an especially hefty issue of the Times. “Ron Goldfarb was on page one for discovering a new planet, there was a review of Christine Hepner’s new movie in the ‘Arts’ section, and Scott Anderson wrote an oped about spending a year in Spain eating paella. One more story about a former classmate and I was gonna heave my Honey Bunches of Oats.”