by Nancy Warren
Kate wasn’t a movie star; she wasn’t royalty. She’d believed that all she had to do was tell Ted she wasn’t marrying him and get on with her life. Apparently, it wasn’t going to be that easy.
Even as she went to put her phone away it began ringing. It was Ted’s special tone. They’d made a custom ring out of the John Mayer song that had been playing when he proposed. Now the notes made her sick. She let the call go to voice mail and then wiped her phone.
It was almost brand new. Ted’s office had a plan and he’d put her on it. She rose and walked to where the surfers were packing up. “How were the waves?”
“Amazing. But we gotta head back for work. Which sucks.”
You could track cell phones. She thought about giving the kids her phone but didn’t want anyone thinking they stole it. She decided to put it in the courier instead. She found a UPS outlet and sent her phone, after some deliberation, to Miami. Maybe they’d hire the lying PI from Seattle to trace it and he’d follow her phone all the way to Miami. That would make her happy. Except, now, she wished she’d sent it to somewhere a lot farther away and more dangerous.
Then she treated herself to breakfast on the pier and decided that she was going to have to get more serious about hiding out, at least until the wedding had truly been canceled.
She got back on the road, still heading south. She could be in Mexico in a few hours.
She called Lissa on a pay phone outside a liquor store. When she identified herself, Lissa said, “No, you can’t have your car back. Finders keepers.”
She smiled. “Are you kidding? I love your car.” She glanced at the faded blue paint, blistered in a couple of spots with rust. “It’s got personality.”
She chuckled, deep in her throat. “You are seriously deranged, you know that, right?”
“Look. You’re a counselor and you do great work with the girls. Could you counsel me?”
“Seriously? You want me to give advice to Miss Perfect?”
“Miss Perfect? Is that how you see me?” She was a mass of insecurities and contradictions.
“That’s your nickname with the girls. You didn’t know?”
She sighed, realizing that she’d presented an image the world that wasn’t close to true. “No. I didn’t know.”
Lissa’s voice changed, it softened. “Okay, I’ve got fresh coffee and I’m sitting down. Prepare to be counseled. But I’ll tell you what I tell the girls. I don’t do ‘poor me’ and I don’t care if you’re a victim. Show me what you’ve got. How are you going to stand in your own power?”
“You tell that to the girls?”
“Damn straight. You think you’ve got it tough?”
Kate felt instantly ashamed. “No. I don’t. I’ve been blessed with so much, I shouldn’t even be wasting your time. I’m sorry.”
“Whoa, not so fast. Just because you’re a rich, entitled white chick doesn't mean you don’t have problems. So, spill.”
She took a deep breath. “I’m a coward.”
“So? We’re all cowards one way or another. Remember what I said. I don’t do victims.”
“Right.” Don’t think like a victim. “What’s the opposite of a victim?”
“What do you think it is?”
“Really, Lissa? Are you one of those kinds of counselors? Turning everything into a question and batting it back at me?”
“You want to drive your ass back to LA and get a real therapist? Be my guest.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.” Cars drove by with a dull, monotonous roar. She had to be in one of the last remaining telephone booths in North America, and this one could use an upgrade. The glass was dirty, the phone dented, and she was glad she always carried hand sanitizer. She’d doused the phone with it before putting it near her head.
“The opposite of a victim. Victor? A winner?” She sighed. “I don’t want to win against Ted.”
“Maybe Ted’s not the one you’re fighting,” Lissa said softly.
“So, you don’t turn everything into a question and bat it back,” she said with a smile.
“My approach is multi-disciplinary.”
“Who am I fighting?” she repeated the not-quite-a-question aloud. “Is it my mother?”
“Is it?”
She let herself think about it and then the truth hit her. “It’s not my mother, is it? It’s me.”
“You know what happens when you try to run away from yourself? You do a lot of running but you don’t get far.”
“You think I should come back? Stand up to them?”
“Actually, I don’t. Until you figure out what you’re doing, you’re going to fall back into your old patterns. I think you’re going to get braver. But you need some time.”
Her last few weeks flashed in front of her eyes in a series of images, like a movie montage. She saw herself reflected in the mirror in the wedding dress, Evangeline pushing her breasts up to fill a dress she was never going to fill.
She found herself telling Lissa about that last fitting, the curse, the gel pads. All of it. “That dress was like a metaphor. It wasn’t meant for me. I faded away in that dress. I actually, literally, got lost in it.”
“Okay. That’s a good insight. In a way, that pin burst your fantasy bubble, too. Didn’t it?”
A truck rolled into the liquor store parking lot and a guy in a ball cap got out, strode to the store and went inside.
“Oh, my gosh. You’re right.”
She pictured her dinner with Ted, when she’d tried to leave with him and he’d essentially told her to act more like his mother. She gasped as she realized that was what she had been headed for. The life of Millicent Carnarvon. Society wife, yes woman, and all around doormat.
A string of other scenes flashed.
“Maybe it’s not me I’m running away from. It’s Miss Perfect.”
“Really? And what are you going to do about that?”
The guy in the ball cap emerged with a six back of beer. As he sauntered past he gave her the once-over.
“I’m going to kill Miss Perfect off.”
“Hold on there, honey. Let’s not get carried away.”
“No. I am. Lissa, you are brilliant. That’s it! Don’t you see? Ted and Ted’s family want me to join the family firm. They think I’ll be a real asset because I’m so squeaky clean.”
“That’s because you are.”
She shook her head feeling a sense of power begin to surge up from deep within her. “That’s who I used to be. Ted and his family want me because I’m so untouchable. But the best way to let them know I am not the wife they want is to destroy my own reputation.”
“Look, Kate, you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. I’m all for you taking a little break, but don’t do anything stupid. Anything you’ll regret.”
She felt as though a window had opened somewhere and she was finally breathing freely. “You know what I regret? I regret how much of my energy I’ve wasted trying to please other people.
“Speaking of which, have you told our esteemed boss lady your plans? Because she’s going to wonder if you don’t show up Monday morning.”
“My next call,” Kate said, suppressing a groan.
Allison Timberlake was a wonderful woman. A charitable and tireless workhorse. She was also humorless and so politically correct that Kate kept her sentences short and factual to avoid one of Allison’s tiresome lectures.
Even though she worked as hard as anyone, she knew that Allison looked down at her for marrying into ‘the establishment’. Also, for wearing lipstick.
She called Allison’s work number and even though it was a Saturday, the woman picked up immediately.
“Allison, it’s Kate.”
“Why, hello Kate. Congratulations. I just heard the good news. Our funding’s in place for another year. Sending individual letters to every board member was a brilliant idea.”
Kate let out a sigh of relief as one chunk of stress fell off her shoulders. “I’m so glad to hear it. I was hoping. But I’ve also
got other grant proposals ready to go and some ideas for fundraisers. But I wanted to ask you a favor.”
“Yes? What is it?”
“I’m wondering if I could take my holidays now, instead of in three weeks as I’d planned.”
There was a beat of silence and she felt the stress start climbing back up her spine.
“Look, Kate, I’m glad you’ve called. I was going to talk to you next week anyway. You know better than anyone how tight our budget is. I don’t think we can afford a full time fundraiser.”
What? “But you just complimented me on my work.”
“Oh, please don’t misunderstand me. You do excellent work. Outstanding. But with your upcoming marriage, you obviously won’t need the modest salary we’ve been paying you. I’m very much hoping you’ll consider continuing your work as a volunteer. Naturally, you wouldn’t need to come to the office and put in long hours, but you could be so valuable in promoting our work to your husband’s colleagues and your social friends. Particularly the wives.”
“Allison? Are you firing me?”
“No. Of course not. We’re eliminating your position.”
Kind of the same thing from where she stood.