by Lisa Smartt
CARLIE
November 8
University of Georgia
I arrived early for class and looked down at my phone to scan the ever-familiar pictures. My favorite was the one with his elbows on the table and the one of us sitting under the apple tree together. Oh, and that one of him sittin’ on the porch swing. I was in love, yes. But life had to go on. He would go to work today. I would go to school. It was comforting to be in Dr. Chesterton’s classroom. She was my favorite professor by far. She had inspired me to be a writer and many times had encouraged me to press on when I got rejection letters from publishers. She entered the classroom and said, “Carlie, can you come to my office for a moment?”
A million things went through my mind. Did she think I plagiarized the last writing assignment? I didn’t. I went to the VA Hospital myself and interviewed three Vietnam veterans. I made sure my quotes were exacting. Was she disappointed in my grades? Couldn’t be. I had a solid B. My palms were sweaty.
“Carlie, have a seat. We have a few minutes before class and…well…I couldn’t wait to tell you the news. You did it! Girl, you knocked it out of the park.”
“Did what?”
“Remember when I told you about seeing my old college roommate last spring at an Auburn reunion, the one who works at Harper Collins?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“I sent her your manuscript and nothing ever came of it.”
“Yes, I remember that too. I’ve gotten very good at being rejected.”
“Carlie, they’ve changed their minds. They want it. They want to publish it. They want to change the name to ‘A Single Girl’s Guide to Ordinary.’ But they want it. Your life is getting ready to change, Carlie, change for the better.”
“Wow, you can’t be serious. I’m speechless. I mean, I wrote that two years ago and no one seemed to give a care. You even said yourself that it just wasn’t the time to publish something about thirty-something single women. Now this.”
“Yes. Well, things change. I told you there are waves. Trends. Now is the time. They said your interviews with working class single women combined with your sense of humor was exactly what they were looking for. They want to meet you, Carlie. There’ll be the usual re-writes. They have to confirm the interviews you did with the women. There’ll be some paperwork and other challenges. You’ll need a contract negotiator. But all in all, it’s a go.”
“Gosh, I don’t even know what to say. Thank you, Dr. Chesterton. What am I supposed to do now?”
“Cancel any plans you have this weekend. Saturday morning we’re going to the Big Apple. I want to introduce you to some friends I know in the writing business and on Monday morning we’ll meet with Joan at the publishing house. I’ll be glad to help negotiate a reasonable contract. I’ve done it before. We should be able to get a Monday evening flight home.”
“I have a problem with my job. I mean, I usually work weekends and also I don’t have the money for travel.”
“Carlie, I’m not sure you understand what I’m saying. Thousands of people have spent the last twenty years trying to get this kind of break. They’re gonna give you an advance on the book. I’ve got some part-time office work I can give you here if you need money. Quit your job. You’re a writer now. They’ll pay your travel expenses.”
“Wow, I mean, great!”
“I’ll buy the airline tickets online today. If you would, fill out this form with your personal information. I’ve been teaching here for fifteen years and I’ve always wanted to see one of my students become a published author. I’ll e-mail you our flight schedule as soon as I can. Here are the copies of what Joan sent me on Friday about the details. They’ll talk money on Monday. But don’t worry, we’ll negotiate a good deal. You can’t expect much with it being your first book. But if it sells big, well, if it sells big, Carlie Ann Davidson will be a household name. Plus, you’re graduating in just over a month and having a book contract in hand means you’ll be a hot commodity on getting a job with maybe a magazine or newspaper.”
I rose from the uncomfortable chair. “Dr. Chesterton, I have to hug you. You helped to make my dreams come true. I’ll never be able to thank you enough. Really.”
“Carlie, go out there and be a literary success. That will be all the thanks I need. See you on Saturday. Look for my e-mail.”
I didn’t listen well during class. I hardly listened at all. Dr. Chesterton was talking about humor writing and everyone in the class was laughing, except me. I was thinking about flying to New York City…and about kissing Doug Jameson under the apple tree in his mom’s backyard. I was thinking about my name being on the cover of a book at Barnes and Noble…and about the way Doug looked so sweetly at Aunt Charlotte when she explained her detailed freezing methods. I was wondering what to wear to a meeting at a publishing house…and remembering Doug’s funny comment to Shannon when she was in her pajamas. The biggest thing I was wondering? How to tell the man I loved that I wouldn’t be waiting for him this weekend. That I’d found someone new…someone from my past…someone I had almost forgotten. My dream.
I was nervous walking into the dollar store. “Hey Sherry! Is Mrs. Lawson around?”
“She’s gone to the bank. Be back in a minute. Girl, how was your big trip to see your Tennessee man?”
“It was great. I mean, it was sad about his mom’s funeral. But yeah, he’s a great guy. I think this one might be a keeper, Sherry!”
“Well, look at you!! Carlie done found her a man. Too bad he’s so far away, eh?”
“Yeah, that’s a bummer.”
Mrs. Lawson walked in whistling as always. But I could never figure out the tune. She was less than 5 ft. tall and round in the face. She reminded me of Mrs. Santa Claus. Cheery and without a lot of make-up. “Well, look what the cat drug in! Good to see ya, Carlie. Sorry I wasn’t here on Saturday. I asked Hope to fill in so I could go down to Macon for my grandson’s third birthday. I hope your trip to Tennessee was…well, worth it.”
“Oh, it was. He’s a great guy and he said it really helped for me to be there during the stress of the funeral and all. Can I talk to you a second?”
“Sure, Carlie. Come on back to the office.”
The office was tiny and overly decorated with dusty plastic roses from the seventies. In ten years I had never seen the surface of Mrs. Lawson’s desk. But she was a good woman. She always tried to work with our schedules. She gave us each $10 on our birthdays. She was a boss and a friend.
“Mrs. Lawson, you’ve always been more than fair with me. You’ve been a friend, not just a boss.”
“And you’re quitting.”
“How’d you know?”
“I know these things. I’m surprised you’ve been here as long as you have. Let me guess. It has something to do with this banker in Tennessee.”
“Actually, no. I kinda got a big break, Mrs. Lawson. My book is gonna be published by a company in New York City. I know. Weird, isn’t it? And well, with me graduating from college in less than a month and with working on the book business, I just won’t be able to work like I have been.”
“A book? Congratulations, Carlie. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer girl. I’m proud of you. Proud of the woman you’ve become. When you first came to work here you were like a puppy that’d been kicked. I didn’t know why. I didn’t ask. But I always knew you had the potential to be a Grand Champion. You just needed a little healing. You’re all healed up now. Time to go out there and make it happen.”
I started crying and reached across the tiny desk to give her a hug. How is it that the last month had been the happiest of my life and yet the most tearful?
Doug had texted me that he had a late afternoon trip to a farm south of Jackson, but that he’d call at 8:00. I tried not to plan my words. I didn’t want them to seem scripted.
November 8 8:10 pm
“Hello.”
“Carlie, I’m sorry I’m a little later than I said. I got tied up and there was some trouble with the
negotiations and all.”
“Hey, no problem. Did it all get solved?”
“Yeah, we came to an agreement.”
“Of course. You probably melted them with your suave and sophisticated laugh and your adorable puppy-dog eyes. They didn’t have a chance.”
“Yeah, I can’t tell you how many times my puppy-dog eyes have brought fat men in overalls to tears.”
“I miss you, Doug. It doesn’t matter that we’ve talked on the phone maybe, what? Five times since I left. But the phone is not the same.”
“I know. But now we can begin the countdown to Friday. Only four days left.”
“I need to talk to you about somethin’. I’m not gonna be able to do this weekend. I’m so sorry, heartbroken even. I hope you’ll understand.”
“What happened?”
“Well, it’s good news. Unbelievable news in fact. Harper Collins is gonna publish my book. It’s a book I wrote two years ago and my professor gave it to them a while back and now they want to publish it. She and I have to fly to New York City Saturday morning.”
“Carlie, that’s great! I don’t even know what to say. This is unreal. Wow! Congratulations! The Big Apple! A publishing contract?”
“But I’m gonna miss you terribly. I want to see you. Would the next weekend work?”
“Oh absolutely, unless I end up getting a call back from MGM about starring in that new movie. But yeah, if that doesn’t work out, I’ll definitely be there.”
“Aren’t you funny? This could still end in a train wreck. Just cause they’re publishing it doesn’t mean people will actually buy it. And if they don’t buy it, how interested do you think Harper Collins will be in giving me another chance with another book? Yeah. It could definitely go south.”
“Are you kidding? It will be a wild success and we’ll all say we knew you back when.”
“Back when I was unloading gallons of Hawaiian Punch?”
“Right.”
“That stopped today too. My professor told me to quit my job and she would get me some work at the university so that I’ll have the time I need to get this book thing worked out.”
“Gosh, I never even got to see you in your little yellow smock with your name tag.”
“I’ll ask Mrs. Lawson to take a picture of me. I told her I’d work 5-9 Monday through Friday of next week as my last hurrah. She’s kinda pushed right now with Thanksgiving coming up and I hated to see her in a pinch.”
“That’s why I like you, Carlie. I like you for a thousand reasons but that’s probably one of the biggest. How many people fly to New York City to sign a book contract with Harper Collins and then come home to stock the shelves at Dollar General with canned sweet potatoes?”
“What can I say? I’m highly committed to carbs.”
“You’re committed to the people there. You know they helped bring you to where you are and you’re not gonna leave them in the dust. That says a lot about you. It’s way more impressive than just writing a good book.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you kinda like me.”
“You’re growing on me.”
“I wish I had a dime for every time I’ve been under that apple tree in the last two days. I keep staring at the picture. You looked so comfortable leaned up against the tree with your arms around me. I felt like nothing could hurt me. And the deer in the field and the way they rarely come out that time of day. I don’t know. I never wanted to leave that moment.”
“Yeah. And I look forward to us making new moments. Just not this Friday. So, it’s now an eleven-day countdown. I can live with that but don’t forget to come back home ‘cause I’m not sure I can wait more than eleven days.”
“That brings up an interesting subject we probably should talk about, Doug. The subject of waiting.”
“Okay.”
“Well, I’ve done a little research on line. Do you know the percentage of people between the ages of twenty and twenty-nine who have never had sex?”
“Wow, you get right to the point, don’t you? Believe it or not, I don’t know. We never covered that in my Intro to Marketing class. If we had, there would have been a lot more marketing majors.”
“8 percent.”
“Okay. And you’re wondering if I’m in the 92 percent or the 8 percent. That’s probably a fair question. What would you guess?”
“Well, there’s no doubt that your Christian faith would say that sex is for marriage, that you would hold that as absolute truth. But I also know that all of us sometimes violate the standards of faith even if we live to regret it. So, I would definitely say that you believe sex is for marriage but that I don’t know whether you’ve violated those standards in a moment of weakness.”
“Well, what did the statistics say about people over thirty?”
“Among people thirty to forty, 4.8 percent haven’t had sex.”
“Hmm. So somebody that’s say thirty-two would be even less likely to have waited.”
“Are you asking me if I’ve waited, Doug? I mean, it’s not like you haven’t wondered. I’ve wondered about you. When I saw the way Sandra looked at you…well…of course I wondered. Anyone would have wondered.”
“I’m not asking you, Carlie. But if you want to tell me, I’m all ears.”
“I’m in the minority, Doug.”
“So am I. I’m not tryin’ to prove I’m better than anyone or holier than the masses. I just really do believe it’s a system that works. When I was a teenager my dad said, ‘Doug, any dog can bed down a lot of females. But only a real man can love one woman for a lifetime.’ I never forgot it. It hasn’t been easy and I’m not saying I haven’t had moral failures. Sandra and I went further than we should have on a few occasions. I crossed some lines in college that I shouldn’t have. But if you’re asking if I have well, you know…no.”
“Well, okay then. I guess we got that cleared up.”
“Actually, I’m glad you brought it up, Carlie. I mean, I’ve been wonderin’, you know…it’s probably good that we talked about it.”
“Yeah, good to know we’re on the same page.”
“So tell me more about the book. What’s the title?”
“Well, they wanna call it, ‘A Single Girl’s Guide to Ordinary.’ It’s kind of a funny look at being a single thirty-something woman, the challenges, the rewards. I even interviewed other single women and some of their comments are hilarious. I was pretty proud of it when I finished it a few years ago. I’m probably a little less passionate about it right now. But hey, I’m not complainin’.”
“Well, it’s amazing that you’re gonna be a published author. I’m impressed, Carlie. The book must be really good.”
“Thanks. I hope so. A lot of people are pullin’ for me. I know you’ve had a big day and need your rest. Plus, I’ve gotta go to my parents’ house. I still haven’t told them the big news.”
“I’m sure they’ll be proud of you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Same time?”
“Sounds good. Bye, Doug. I miss you.”
“I miss you too. Bye.”
The next eleven days were a fast-moving blur. I went to New York City with Dr. Chesterton and signed a book contract. I finished my job at Dollar General by stocking canned pumpkin pie filling and endless bags of marshmallows. I talked to Doug on the phone every day. Happiness.
Tomorrow Doug drives to Commerce to meet my parents and Clara and to stay in the Rockfords’ guest room which is covered with pink wallpaper. And to tell me that he thinks about me all the time and couldn’t wait to see me. I won’t be able to sleep tonight.
November 19
My last class dismissed at 3:00. I told Dr. Chesterton I’d meet her to go over some changes in my manuscript. We had already made a lot of changes. But the publishers wanted me to do some re-writes on Chapters 3 and 4. They gave me some guidance and told me to submit the changes within a week. They wanted to push forward in an attempt to get the book released in January. “January is the time when single women will
be ready to have a good laugh and get a fresh start. We’ll do a big push to make this book happen by January 15. So get us the changes. Time is money, Carlie.”
I knew time was money. I also knew that the man I loved would be driving into town at 8:00. All writing would cease at that point. This wasn’t up for discussion. Dr. Chesterton was pleased with the changes I made. “I think they’ll like this, Carlie. Let’s change some wording here and move that paragraph to the end.” We worked on the book for about three hours and then agreed to deem it perfect. “Let’s submit it, Carlie. I’ll send it to Joan and she’ll get back with us about whether it’s a go. I think it is better than it was before. We should get good news.”
“Thank you, Dr. Chesterton. I can’t thank you enough.”
“It’s my honor to help you.”
November 19 6:00
I’ve got just enough time to get cleaned up, do my hair, and put the chicken spaghetti in the oven. I told Doug to eat a late lunch and we could have supper together when he arrived. He’s going to the Rockfords’ house first to drop off his things and then coming to our apartment for supper. Clara had agreed to meet him for five minutes and then excuse herself to her parents’ house. All is moving along like clockwork.
November 19 8:15
Dinner is ready. Warm and bubbly chicken spaghetti. Crisp salad. Green beans and crescent rolls. Table is set with an ivory tablecloth, new blue cloth napkins, and old white china plates my grandma had given me for my thirtieth birthday. Toothpaste globs meticulously cleaned out of the sink. I changed clothes at least seven times. I decided on blue jeans and a plain black button-down shirt. Finally, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and neither of us said a word. We had talked on the phone every day for two weeks. We had laughed about small town parades and barbecue cook-offs. We had talked about bank loans and favorite books and ridiculous movies. We’d even cried a few times about his mom, about life. But what we had really wanted was this…this moment. I didn’t expect to start crying. Doug was wearing khaki pants and a navy blue sweater. I had never seen a better looking man in my life. He reached out to hug me and I could hear his heart beating. I thought about what Agnes Robertson at the Commerce post office said, “Gosh, you hardly know this guy. You met him how? Through e-mail? Ridiculous.” No, Agnes. You’re ridiculous. This is love.
