Life, Libby, and the Pursuit of Happiness

by Hope Lyda

  And only Cecilia and I knew it.

  Nineteen

  “You look like the cat that got the canary,” Cass stated as she refilled her water glass from the carafe at our linen-covered table. “Did something good happen at work this morning? Or maybe an encounter with that new boss you mentioned? I got the sense you liked him.”

  I shook my head severely. No. No. “Blaine? No, he’s just a great boss. Besides, I’m keeping some really big secrets from him.”

  “Maybe he has potential.”

  I shook my head again. “I’m trying to be more realistic about my life, more intentional about my purpose. I don’t want to fill my head with false romance possibilities. That kind of thinking made me go out with a guy like Angus.”

  “What is a guy like Angus?”

  I spread butter over a slab of beautiful foccacia bread, took a bite, and shrugged as though I didn’t know, but I wanted to be honest with my sister. These moments of reflective conversation were rare for us. “A guy like Angus has some nice qualities, or at least comfortable qualities. But his life was so different from mine. I’m always on the outside looking in at societal groups. I’ve never fit in anywhere, so I make myself conform, try a new way of living, and hope that one day I will look around and realize that I belong.”

  “How soon before you knew Angus wasn’t more?”

  “The first week.” I looked up repentantly from a forkful of romaine lettuce.

  “Why’d you keep dating him?”

  “To avoid dating.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “You were protected from the whole single scene. Basically you feel compelled to date and date and date, and you experience buyer’s regret on a regular basis. So when I felt uneasy about Angus by the first Saturday, I figured it was just part of that lamenting. It’d be like buying that house we always liked in the old neighborhood because it had a great porch. Remember? Well, it had a great porch but the roof was caving in and the siding was sliding off…and the door frames looked like they were borrowed from a different-sized house. For a few weeks you’d focus on the porch because that was the selling point and somehow it made your life richer and better. But after that the weather would get cold and you’d be forced to spend time inside, and pretty soon you’d notice the cracks in the walls and the gaps in the floorboards.”

  Cass stared at me with her lips slightly parted and her eyes squinting with disbelief. “You’re such an overanalyzer. No wonder relationships end. You probably wrap the tentacles of tangents around them and choke them to death.”

  I started laughing and so did she. “You’re so right.”

  “Is Blaine a guy like Angus?”

  “Not at all. Honestly, I don’t know what kind of guy Blaine is.” I paused with my fork in the air. This was an interesting revelation. Normally, I would have mentally written Blaine off as purely a superior being. Therefore, I would have done anything to appease him, as in saying yes to his church self-invite. I hadn’t really placed him in any category. He was just Blaine…a nice, respectable guy who was trying to do his best job possible.

  “Earth to Libby.”

  “My problem is that I had a crazy, inappropriate supervisor before, so now that I’m in the presence of a normal, functional, and kind leader, his kind actions feel personal. But I can step back and appreciate Blaine for who he is and what he’s trying to accomplish.”

  “Hearing your description makes me think about how I felt when I met Nate.” Cass smiled tenderly. “After our strange family, Nate seemed so normal he was exotic. At such a young age he wanted to work toward a real relationship, a family, a house, a commitment. In some ways, he was offering to accompany me on a journey to a shared destination.” She pressed her lips together as though refreshing a coat of gloss. “The destination we had.”

  “Have, Cass. You have those things.” I reached across the restaurant table and touched her hand. The move surprised her, but she seemed grateful.

  “Yes. We do.”

  When our orders of linguini were placed in front of us, we ate much of our meal in silence. We looked at one another frequently and smiled. After eating half a loaf of bread, I broke the silence. “I always figured our family seemed normal to you. You got along with Mom and Dad. You followed a logical path in life. They never give you grief. I assumed we lived these opposite lives in the context of the same family. Good daughter life. Messed-up daughter life.”

  “They don’t give me grief? Mom and Dad are staying in my guest room, three yards away from my room. They are at the breakfast table before I even get up. They are combing my daughters’ hair and selecting their outfits while I’m still looking for my favorite coffee mug, which is nowhere to be found because apparently the shade of pink was offensive to Mom so she got rid of it. This is big grief.”

  She was right, of course, but I was determined to win my argument. “You haven’t had worthless relationship after worthless relationship. You haven’t worked for a company for five years just to get demoted. You might have this season of misery, but you are still the daughter Mom can talk about at university fundraisers.”

  Cass’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “What?” I eyed a pat of butter wrapped in gold foil and considered whether eating it without bread would be a regrettable choice.

  Cass started talking a mile a minute. I put my foil-encased temptation down. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You are the college graduate who can do ‘anything you put your mind to’ and will surely someday be a powerful executive. Libby, you are her pride and joy. And if you say you don’t know this, I will scream in the middle of this restaurant. I will.”

  I was tempted to look around for the Candid Camera crew. Had she not witnessed the conflicted conversations between Mom and me for the past twenty years? From the moment I could utter a word, my mother was correcting me, coercing me, and chiding me. So much so that when Cass was born five years later, I prayed to God that she would foot the bill as the perfect daughter because I sure wasn’t going to. Not ever. And until now, I thought that prayer had been answered.

  “Unbelievable.” Cass shook her head silently back and forth. “Libby, you have some huge blind spots. I don’t know how you make it through life sometimes.”

  “You know, I’m starting to get that about me. But, Cass, all I hear from Mom is what a great home you have created, and how you finished high school focused on what you wanted and you went for it. Do you know how many times she has thrown your perfect family in my face…?” I stopped there. In proving my point, I was hurting her. Her perfect family was struggling.

  She seemed to sense the reason for my silence. “Mom has never told me she is proud of that, and now I’ve not lived up to that one area I had going for me. But, ya know, Libby, I don’t think any family is perfect. I do know that I love Nate, and I love my girls, and each day I tell those girls that they are wonderful. That I’m proud of them. And that I love them no matter what.” Her voice was strong but quiet and controlled.

  I felt ashamed for the times I belittled her choices and her strengths with “Oh, what a perfect life” comments to her. I did to her what Mom did. We finished our tiramisu in silence. It was a lot to take in for a lunch hour. I had to get back to the office, so Cass headed back with me. She veered off toward Crate & Barrel.

  True to form, earthquake central seemed to have developed a new fault line. Me. When I walked on to the Reed and Dunson main floor, Philip looked at me directly and then down at his GQ magazine cleverly tucked into the latest stock reports.

  “Blaine’s been looking for you,” he said, clearly pleased with the idea of me being reprimanded.

  I acted indifferent and kept walking. I could tell that Philip wasn’t really reading about Armani’s new line of faux crocodile jackets. He was watching me walk toward Blaine’s office. The hair on my neck stood at attention. Maybe it was just because I was late. He was waiting for me to get in trouble.

 
I received similar responses as I walked past coworkers I did not know by name, only by descriptions. Short Skirt Sally, Bluebeard Bob, Tuna Fish Sandwich Tim, Watercooler Walt….they all turned away just as I looked in their directions. There was a certain rush about this. I felt as though I were in the middle of The Firm. Could I make it to the staircase before they caught me? Who betrayed me? If only I had worn sensible shoes, I could escape. But I was wearing my birthday boots today. I left the fringe at home, but the power of the boots was with me.

  My movie fantasy momentum crashed when I saw Blaine standing by my cubicle. He was definitely waiting and watching, and not for Cecilia this time. My hips seemed to lose their grip on my legs and I wobbled toward him.

  “Wh…what is wrong?” I should have acted as though I hadn’t noticed the mood shift in the office. I qualified my question. “Do you need me to schedule another conference call this afternoon?” I looked at him, doe-eyed. Was my lip quivering? Breathe. Wait. Hear what it is before jumping in to the confessional.

  He looked down. Bad sign. “Could I talk with you in my office?” He motioned toward his open door and then ran his hand through his dark waves. He’d never spoken to me in a boss tone before.

  I didn’t like it.

  I wanted him to know my value as an employee, to be proud of me, to be my champion should the chance for promotion ever enter my life again. Now that a pink slip was in reach, I didn’t want it anymore. I wanted to prove my worth.

  “Have a seat. Want a Pepsi?” He headed toward the little fridge by his bistro table with mosaic tile inlays.

  “I’ll have what you’re having.” Why was I speaking in the dialogue of a date scene?

  Blaine extended a can in my direction. My hands were shaking, betraying my anxiousness, as I reached to receive the beverage. “Thanks. Tell me what is going on, Blaine. I want the bad news. I want to get it over with…” When I opened the can, a spray of foam went everywhere. Floor, table, wall, me.

  Blaine’s scramble to help me clean became a stay in my professional execution. Here we were, on our hands and knees, mopping up sticky soda with bar napkins and random sheets of copy paper from his recycle bin. I was trying to keep my boots out of the drying sap. These babies had to last through my birthday dinner at Ariel’s house.

  Blaine pressed down on a particularly soaked spot with both hands and a fist of pink memos. I reached for his tan hand. I wasn’t trying to be forward, I was trying to calm the situation so that I could be read my rights and start calling headhunters. He looked at me. Now he had the deer eyes. I removed my hand.

  “Blaine, please be up front.”

  He sat back on his heels, tossed the brown, wet memos into the garbage, and looked at me, somewhat defeated. He straightened his tie and stood up, motioning to the dry chair across from him. “Maybe we should use the furniture for this conversation.” He was clearly uncomfortable.

  Why did I touch him?

  “I’ll get you started. ‘Libby, you are fired because…’”

  He laughed. “Libby, you’re not fired. The news is not about you, though it will affect you.” He sighed then and said, “Ken called our accounts in Dallas. Cecilia is not and has not been there.”

  My look of worry eased the pressure to feign surprise. “Really?”

  “Furthermore, we suspect that she might be up to something.”

  I snorted. “I’m sorry, but that is not news. It is Cecilia you’re talking about, the woman who hired a private company to show up at midnight and repaint the names on the parking places so that she could get a spot closer to the elevator.”

  He smiled and nodded. “I suppose it isn’t such startling news.”

  “Might I add that she’s disappeared for short stints in the past? Sometimes it’s work related; sometimes it’s more of an impromptu vacation. But as strange and overbearing as Cecilia is, I can honestly say she’s one of the most dedicated people in this company. She has moments of genius.” I stuttered over the word “genius” and hoped Blaine didn’t notice.

  “Your loyalty is admirable, Libby.”

  “Thank you.”

  “This is why it’s possible Cecilia will try to contact you.”

  “Me?” Dang. “Oh, that’s hard to believe. We aren’t exactly close.”

  “Don’t worry. Cecilia is responsible for Cecilia ultimately. Ken just wanted you to be informed. He told Rachel as well. Needless to say, if you hear anything from her, please let us know. It’s for her safety.”

  Blaine sounded like an FBI agent trying to convince a fugitive’s wife to help bring her husband in. I caught myself before I could laugh. Blaine would take that response as insubordination, but I was wise enough not to respond with affirmation. The last thing I needed in my quest to become authentic was another lie on my plate. Instead, I stood, formally shook his hand, and returned to my desk, where I stared at my calendar entries with doubt.

  My phone rang. The screen showed Philip’s extension. Mr. Nosey was probably eager to find out how my meeting with Blaine went.

  “Yes?” I said sweetly.

  Philip sighed, “So you’re back at your desk finally.”

  I remained silent.

  “Your cousin is on the line again.”

  “Cousin?”

  “Yes. She’s been calling every fifteen minutes, driving me insane and filling up the lines. You know personal calls are discouraged. Especially from neurotic relatives.”

  “Can I take that call now?”

  “Here she is.”

  I heard the click and then someone clearing her throat.

  “Hello?” I said tentatively.

  “Libby, it’s me.” Cecilia’s barely disguised voice filled my head.

  I looked around and cupped the mouthpiece to be discreet. “This is not a good idea,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “The plan is in motion. Further instruction will follow later today.”

  “Don’t call me here. Everyone knows you’re not in Dallas.”

  “Speak up. You’re such a mumbler.”

  Simultaneously I coughed and said, “They know you’re missing.”

  She piped back a bit indignantly, “When the key person is gone, they should notice!”

  No comment.

  She continued, sounding a bit irritated, “Further instruction. Be on the lookout. And if my plan is ruined by your incompetence, I will see to it that my last act as an executive is to throw you out on your ear or other body part.”

  “Such sweet talk. Might I remind you that I’m your only hope?”

  Cecilia grunted. “My career is resting on the shoulders of a terminal assistant. This must be what they call ‘hitting bottom’ in the purity circles. I may have just had a breakthrough moment. Now I won’t have to make up something during my counseling session.”

  “You know, while you’re there, you might take advantage of professional help.”

  A shadow crossed the opposite wall of my cubicle and I swiveled around in my chair to see Blaine waiting outside of my nondoor. I nodded to him so he knew I saw him. “I have to go.”

  I hung up, interrupting Cecilia’s rant involving profanity.

  “Sorry,” I said to Blaine. “It was a personal call. My cousin Gertie is at a slim-down camp. She had a Ho-Ho in her hand, and I was trying to talk her out of it. It won’t happen again.”

  “I Ho-hope not.” Blaine handed me an account folder with some handwritten notes for me to add to the client’s computer file.

  I hated that I just lied to a good man. This could not possibly be the way my life was supposed to be going.

  Twenty

  “Isn’t this your stop?” A cute, older gentleman seated next to me on the bus nudged me. I looked out the dirty window to the street sign.

  “Yes, it is. Thank you.” I smiled and got up to leave.

  He stood and followed me down the narrow, metal grid steps to the sidewalk. “I knew because we always get off at the same time. I go downtown for yoga classes on Tues
days and Thursdays. I thought I needed new hips, but it turns out I only needed to stretch and exercise.”

  “That’s great. You live around here?”

  “We’re neighbors. I live in 310C. I’m Levi.”

  “Did you just move in?”

  He scratched his bristly five o’clock shadow and looked up. Deep hazel eyes rested between red-rimmed eyelids. “Twenty-some years ago.”

  “I’m sorry. I haven’t been very aware of my surroundings in recent years.”

  “You always look a little preoccupied, now that you mention it.”

  We walked up the street steps to the apartment entrance. His ascent was at the pace of a much younger man. I tried to keep up. Our manager, Newton, was fiddling with the radiator. The man was a sad namesake for Isaac Newton. He couldn’t figure out how to work anything mechanical. From what I could tell, he got the position of manager because his father owns the building and he’s an only child.

  “I occasionally leave notes about a Bible study on your door,” Levi said.

  “Oh…you’re the one. Thank you. I may take you up on that sometime.”

  “No pressure. It’s a standing invitation. I also welcome anyone to join me for church on Sundays, but a lot of folks shy away from that initially.”

  “I have a church. Well, sort of. But thanks.”

  “Oh, yeah? Is it near here?” He asked the question but was smiling as though he understood that I didn’t really attend any church.

  “Pretty close,” I said with a hint of pride in my voice. Levi headed for the stairs and I walked toward the elevator. “Guess I’ll have to take yoga,” I said.

  Levi smiled and said, “I highly recommend it.”

  “I’m Libby, by the way,” I called out as he started up the red carpeted stairs with pale patches worn by decades of ascending and descending feet.

  “I know. Good to meet you, Libby.”

  “Libby?” Newton coughed my name.