The Science of Bliss by Dr. Margaret K. Maguire
WE’VE SWITCHED TO THE LATE DINNER SEATING to fit in our spa visits, but Jules, Kyle, and Sam did the same, so there’s no escaping the elephant standing between Haley and me. The grand dining room is the only source of social stability on this singles’ cruise. While every other venue seems to be some bad icebreaker with a name tag or a hokey game show reprisal attached, dinner is a place of respite. The only people we have to interact with are Jules and Kyle Jensen and . . . Sam.
Since most of the men on board are upwards of forty and the women are significantly younger and consoling themselves with a great deal of alcohol, the cruise is decidedly not for me.
“This cruise is like a bad sorority party where only creepy professors are invited,” I whisper to Kathleen.
“You haven’t been out of your room. How would you know?”
“I’m out now. Brent and Sam are the only two options on board, it seems.”
“And yet you managed to alienate the two of them, so I guess the rest of the cruise should be spent getting your career out of the loo,” Haley hisses at me.
I’m about to make a snarky comment when I see my publisher and her equally infatuated husband walking toward us. “Being married on this ship is like floating on water. Look at how regal they are as they pass all the clawing desperados.”
“Need I remind you that we fit into that category of ‘clawing desperados,’ as you so eloquently put it?”
“Not me. I’m on the rebound.”
“That makes you more single!” Haley says. “It makes you rejected and single.”
“Nice, Haley.” Kathleen tells us both to shut up and behave ourselves. Sam is nowhere to be seen.
“Your brother’s not here?” Haley asks Jules as she approaches.
She purses her lips and stares directly at me. “He didn’t feel much like socializing this evening.”
Join the club is my first thought, but I’m anxiously checking the door, hoping that Jules has it wrong. Some part of me doesn’t want Sam Wellington to find me mercurial, as he put it. Criminally insane with stalker tendencies is how I heard it. I obviously care what he thinks and that needs to stop.
“Sam read your book,” Jules says first thing when she sits down. She’s wearing a violet business dress with a rectangular neckline and fiddling with a medallion necklace, twisting and turning it nervously.
I take back my first assessment of Jules Jensen. While I’d still take bets that she was a cheerleader in high school, she’s got a darker, more manipulative side. This is the part that got her to the top rung of a publishing house at her young age. It’s also the part of her that is staring me down like I’m dolphin roadkill.
“Sam told me he read my book,” I reply, channeling Jules’s inner cheerleader.
“I think for the most part he enjoyed it.”
“I hope so.” I’m also hoping she’ll offer up more information.
“We were very excited at BrainLit about your new venture and the opportunity to present the idea of resilience in happiness science. I read the proposal again yesterday so that I could speak to marketing after getting to know you better.”
I literally don’t know this woman from the person who empties the trash cans at night in the lab. “You were excited?”
“I’ve spoken with your department head—Dr. Fleece, is it?”
“Oh, how is she?”
“Missing her lead researcher, from the sound of it. She thought maybe you were working on your book.”
I pray that Jules knows nothing about the impending investigation. It’s bad enough I haven’t been to my job. “I needed a sabbatical. Personal time.”
“That’s what she said, but you see, my publishing company is starting over. You’re only as good as your last book in this industry, and if you take a sabbatical on me, we can’t afford that.”
Haley pretends not to be listening as she smothers butter all over a piece of bread. Haley hasn’t eaten bread since gluten became the devil of California.
“No, of course not. I completely understand.” I’m betraying myself. I may understand, but I have nothing to offer her. My conscience gets the best of me. “You want out of the contract?”
Haley drops her knife on her plate.
“No. I still believe your book will offer hope to those who keep repeating the same unhealthy cycles in their life.”
Like binge-watching chick flicks and eating gelato.
“Maggie has never missed a day of work before this self-imposed sabbatical,” Haley says. “She’s ready to work. Aren’t you, Maggie?”
Luckily for Haley and Jules, my business mind is back. It has to be. Prince Charming left with my white horse—and an acrobat. “Hmm, yes, absolutely.” I search the annals of my brain to complete my thoughts. “The new manuscript should resonate with readers searching for happiness and contentment in their lives.” I’m the world’s biggest hypocrite. But rather than shut my mouth, I keep spewing.
“We’ve got random samples of the happiest, most contented people from all over the world,” I say, knowing full well the studies aren’t ready to be accessed and made consumable for normals. But nothing like a little adrenaline to make it happen. I can’t stand for Sam to think I let his sister down, especially after I’ve made such a fool of myself in front of him. Snuggling into the crook of his neck one minute and dashing out his door the next. He says mercurial—which is a kind way of saying crazy.
“This sounds wonderful,” Kyle says, grinning and nodding. “Isn’t that great, Jules?”
The cheerleader is gone. The staunch principal in Jules is speaking. “Dr. Fleece said that she’s placed numerous phone calls to you and that you haven’t returned any of them.”
“We’re on a cruise ship,” I reply, not explaining that I’ve seen the missed calls. Lying by omission is getting to be a way of life for me. I need to get back to my morning prayers, and quickly.
I’m encouraged by Kyle’s enthusiasm. As I glance around the dining tables with sad, middle-aged men jockeying for seats next to women half their age and way out of their league, I add, “I’ve been studying the power of healthy relationships, self-acceptance, and the need for autonomy. Even in a relationship. Autonomy despite your marital state is important for happiness.”
“Autonomy is important for happiness?” she repeats.
“I’ve written a grant and I’m trying to collect more data before the book is released, but it’s very important to personal happiness that people have the ability to make their own decisions and don’t heavily rely on others for acceptance.”
“If this grant doesn’t come through, will it stop production on the manuscript? If so—”
Haley interrupts and starts with her publicity spiel on how fantastic I am. To be honest, I’m so grateful for the reprieve from defending myself that I have no idea what she’s saying. My eyes rest on the empty seat beside me that should contain Jules’s brother. I want to be content. I want to overcome this strange emotion that life without a romantic partner is an unworthy life. Rom-coms, what have you done to me?
Logically and scientifically, I’m aware that a woman in an unhappy relationship is far less happy than her single counterpart, so why am I struggling? A better question is, why am I so attracted to a man who told me up front I was all wrong for him? By definition, I’m too smart to be happy. Granted, that translates to me that he believes all women are the devil, which makes him even more off-limits. He waved his red flags with vigor—Caltrans doesn’t have as many warning signs when they work the 101.
No wonder my friends are worried, the empty tubs of Ben & Jerry’s notwithstanding. I realize what everyone must think of me—that first it was Jake, then it was Brent, and now it’s Sam. Is there nobody who won’t do? I’m the girl who cried wolf, and coyote, and maybe cougar too. No one will ever believe me, but this time the romance feels different. When I find the man who makes me feel like Sam Wellington does . . . and he loves
me back . . . and my friend isn’t interested, then it’s on!
“A happier single person will be part of a happy couple.” This does not come out as an intelligent addition to the current conversation. Rather, the entire table is staring at me as if I have Tourette’s. I was hoping to add something without it being obvious that I was scanning the doorway every nanosecond for Jules’s brother. “I mean, we are wired to search for happiness but not necessarily equipped to strive for it.”
“What I think Dr. Maguire—Maggie—is trying to say is that resilience as it pertains to the science of happiness is an understudied field.” Haley is clearly hoping to make me appear normal—but aren’t we past that at this stage? “It’s a study she’s trying to get a grant for as we speak. That future study would no doubt be a bestselling third book for her.”
I give her a death stare. Third book?
Sam never fills the doorway. His presence never graces the crowded dining room, and I know I’ve run from the wrong man. Everything happens for a reason, and Sam was sent on this cruise to teach me I’m attracted to the wrong sort of man and I miss red flags. But I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I’d thrown caution to the wind.
Haley, meanwhile—the girl who was supposed to have such a desperate crush on our mutual friend—hasn’t even seemed to notice his absence. She’s overselling me at this point, so I make a slicing motion at my neck. She then shifts into an animated discussion about the beach and tomorrow’s excursion into Mexico.
“We’re going to karaoke night tonight after dinner!” Kathleen’s clearly done with Haley too. “Jules, Kyle, why don’t you join us?”
“Singing makes people happy,” I spout like an idiot. Singing makes people happy? So does dancing the hokey pokey and the chicken dance at weddings. Do I want to share that knowledge with my publisher? I will myself to shut up.
Haley glares at me, and I know my sixth sense is on target. I need to call it a day on the blathering and maybe walk the plank while I’m at it.
“I talk when I get nervous,” I whisper. “I wouldn’t be casting any judgment my way, motormouth.”
“It’s my job to talk,” she hisses back at me.
“Let’s go sing. Other people’s words are safer for both of us right now.”
After our meal, we rise to leave, but I can’t go without asking the question that’s really plaguing me. “Where’s your brother tonight, Jules?”
Jules, with all her natural perkiness, frowns. She takes me aside, away from Kathleen and Haley. “Did something happen between you two today?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did he do something to upset you?”
I shake my head. “No, of course not. It’s me he’s avoiding tonight at dinner?” I’m instantly offended. “Why do you ask that?”
“Sam is more sensitive than he appears.”
“Well, so is a cactus.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. I don’t understand your question.”
“My brother thinks it’s best to keep a low profile right now. He’s worried that his presence may offend you.”
“His presence offends me?” I’m not usually offended by hot GQ model material with a heart to match. “No, Sam tried to give me a quiet place to write today, and I—I had my reasons for leaving. It had nothing to do with him, it’s just the way I work. He didn’t do anything to upset me, I promise you.”
“I may have pushed him too far with this cruise. When he said that comment to you in the lobby, I knew I’d overstepped my bounds.”
“He’s very well-spoken. I’ve really enjoyed his company, barring our initial introduction.”
“Have you?” Jules’s eyes are wide as she asks, as if she senses what I’m hiding.
“Why don’t you invite him to join us tonight?” I try to hint that this isn’t about me, that I’m being heroic here and taking a pass on her brother’s favors for my gorgeous friend—who has never wanted for male attention in all her born days. “Haley would love to have him along for karaoke.”
“Haley?”
“And Kathleen too,” I say to take the pressure off my matchmaking ideas. Mostly because I hate myself for making such a promise to Haley. Tonight I thought he could be alone with Haley and their magic would happen. Nature would take its course, and I would find solace in more sweet movies and ice cream. It was the circle of life, Maggie style.
“I don’t think he’ll be joining you, but I’ll let him know if you like. I’d planned to go to his room and check on him anyway.”
“He’s in his room?” I ask. “I’d hoped he was out meeting new people and eating at one of the more exclusive restaurants.”
“Have you met my brother, Maggie?” Jules chuckles. “He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m sure the mere thought of offending you is enough to keep him away tonight. He was only trying to help you meet your deadline, but he’s so strong natured, I can see how it would feel threatening.”
“Threatening? No, he was never threatening! On the contrary, I haven’t felt that comfortable since my sofa back in California.” Why does everyone think I’m a charity case?
Jules comes closer. Her cheerleader exterior disappears and an unsettled expression crosses her face. “If you had any idea what he’s been through, you’d understand he only has the best of motives. I realize that I’m his sister and naturally inclined to believe the best of him, but in this case, it’s true. He wants to change his outlook. I think he may have thought you had the answer on how to do that.”
I nod hastily. “I’m sorry that I didn’t.” It’s time for an impulsive exit, which is getting to be my specialty. I can’t even remember the me who used to overanalyze everything.
20
Happy people live their truth.
The Science of Bliss by Dr. Margaret K. Maguire
MY QUEST FOR FUN— the one that does not include gelato and extreme avoidance—continues. Tonight’s adventure? Karaoke in a disco-lit ballroom with streaming purple, blue, and magenta themes. If Alice had a nightclub in Wonderland, this would be it. It’s tacky to the extreme, the kind of vulgar that makes you willing to throw caution to the wind and act like a different person. Which fits my current bill.
When I do the old Maggie, I get sucked into a vortex where I make bad decisions—like answering Jake’s call while avoiding my boss’s inquiries. When I do the new Maggie, the party girl Maggie, I fail in some way so that my friends—or some people—are fed up with my childish behavior.
There has to be a happy medium. Karaoke seems like that middle ground. The night is full of promise. As long as I don’t get caught up in feeling too bad for Sam. I didn’t do anything wrong this afternoon. Certainly nothing I should feel guilty for. I mean, he brought me to his luxurious suite—why would there be an innocent motive in that? Whatever Sam’s motive is, be it to push me to write, to relieve his guilt, or to seduce me, letting my guard down with him leads me into temptation. The kind of temptation that left me at the altar for a scarf-clinging dingbat.
Statistics don’t lie. Love isn’t safe for me. Boundaries, Maggie, boundaries. I’m a worker bee. A drone.
The nightclub is just wild lights so far. There are no throngs of people and serious clubbing going on. The DJ is playing “Yesterday” by the Beatles, and the lights slow to a sorrowful spin, like a bad sixth grade dance. It’s like the party no one showed up for—or the first couple song at the skating rink. The small crowd is waiting for the party to start.
Enter Kathleen.
Kathleen loves to lead in essentially every part of her life, including the fun parts. If there’s a conga line, she’ll be at the front of it. If there’s a marathon, she’ll be first out of the starting gate. It’s no wonder she can get people to volunteer to be practically drawn and quartered in the name of exercise and health. It’s my theory on why she’s my friend. Since I’m so difficult as a follower, I think it fills her with a certain purpose in life. If Kathleen can get me to act in
my own best interest, she’s won.
“I need a partner. Come sing with me,” Kathleen says, grabbing me by the hand.
“I think the fluffy canary princess flying across the ship on a zip line is enough entertainment for one day. I want to have some reputation left by the time I speak.”
“You’re too self-conscious. No one cares.” Kathleen waves her hand around the room. “Okay, these ten people care. They’re here to have a good time. Let’s give the people what they want!”
After some poor kid’s harrowing rendition of Def Leppard’s “Rock of Ages,” Kathleen takes the stage, dragging me up with her. She chooses the rock anthem “Bohemian Rhapsody.”
“This is exactly what you need to forget about everything that’s going on back home. You just need to breathe deeply and be in the moment.” Kathleen puts her hands together in prayer fashion. “Feel the moment. Be present.”
It’s all very chill until the Queen tune starts.
I know Kathleen has an amazing voice, but I’m still dumbstruck as she starts us off and gives Freddie Mercury a proper tribute. She sings at church, and it’s a struggle for the choir director not to play favorites and give her every solo. Kathleen’s voice is very soft and full—nothing like her actual presence, except that it’s dynamic.
Here’s the thing about Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.” It’s the longest song on the planet. It goes on for an eternity. Or it feels like it as I watch the lyrics scroll by. Kathleen is nodding at me relentlessly, as if it’s my turn. Thankfully, she keeps singing until we get to the part about killing a man—then suddenly I’m inspired. Go figure.
When we get to the wild rifts and falsetto voices, I’m past caring what I sound like and I’m using the mic as if I were born to entertain. My voice doesn’t scare people off or make them scatter, as it’s been known to do in church. Rather, as bad as it is, juxtaposed against the beauty of Kathleen’s, we attract crowds from the hallway like bees to honey.
As the room starts to fill, Kathleen tries to drown me out. I’m meek, but they have this terrible MC who keeps pushing me to get louder, make more effort. Being the people pleaser that I am, I comply and raise my voice as if I’m Celine Dion and my fans need this for their livelihood. Soon I take over, and Kathleen is standing behind me with her beautiful voice. Drowned out by the ego that I didn’t know resided within me but seems desperate to get out and share itself with the world.
The Theory of Happily Ever After Page 21