Blogger Girl

by Schorr, Meredith

  Shaking my head, I said, “Don’t let Bridget’s nonchalant attitude sway you, she’s got it baaaad!”

  Splashing her hands in the water, Bridget smiled softly. “I kind of do.” Looking at me apologetically again, she said, “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize to me! I’m happy for you.” And despite my own misery, I truly was, although I did my best not to think about Jonathan and Bridget getting it on. I did, however, wonder if he was more energetic with Bridget than he was with me. Someday I’d ask what he was like in the sack with her. Someday being a date in the very far-off future. “At least one of us has a man.” Looking at Caroline, I said, “Maybe two of you soon!”

  Frowning at me, Caroline said, “What’s going on with Nicholas?”

  “Ladies?”

  Thankful for the well-timed interruption, I lifted my face toward the heavy-set older woman who was looking down at us from the floor. Of course, she was wearing the uniform.

  “Yes?” I said.

  “You’re wearing bathing suits,” she said, pointing at us.

  No shit Sherlock. “What’s the problem?” I asked.

  “There are no bathing suits allowed in the baths,” the woman responded.

  Thoroughly confused since the lady at the front desk had said we only had to wear the uniforms when we weren’t in the water, I said, “Huh?” When I felt Bridget kick me under the water, I turned to her. “What?”

  Gesturing with her head to the neighboring baths, Bridget said out of the side of her mouth, “Everyone’s naked.”

  I looked to my left and right and sure enough, all of the other adult bathers were sans bathing suit. Turning to face the woman, I said, “Is it okay if we wear our suits? I’m just not comfortable being naked in public.”

  Shaking her head, she said, “Against the rules.”

  Just then I felt a blast of hot water slap me in the face as a kid from one of the other baths ran by. Grinding my teeth, I said as nicely as I could, “So it’s not against the rules to have children under the age of ten run around splashing everyone - in bathing suits, I might add.” I gestured toward the neighboring tub which was filled with children and continued, “But it’s against the rules for a grown woman to wear a bathing suit?”

  The woman nodded. “Yes. These are the rules.”

  “Whatever!” Bridget said, removing her bathing suit top and swinging it around her head. “I’m naked now. Happy?”

  Caroline stepped out of the bath. “I’m not getting naked.”

  “What about you, K?” Bridget asked.

  I contemplated. While I would have reveled at the chance to skinny dip or soak naked with Nicholas in a hot tub, going commando surrounded by all of Brooklyn and their children was the opposite of sexy. I climbed out of the bath. “No thanks.”

  Slipping her bathing suit back on under the water, Bridget said, “Fine. Let’s get out of here.”

  As I grabbed a towel from a pile in the corner, I heard a scream from behind me. Instinctively turning around to see what happened, I found myself facing a very large, very naked and very big busted woman pointing her finger at me, screaming in a language I didn’t understand and pointing at my towel.

  I glanced at the towel and back at the woman, trying not to notice her boobs hanging down to her knees or her ‘70s style ungroomed vagina. “What?” I yelled back.

  She continued to scream at me and point at the towel.

  “What!” I shouted back. “Did I steal your towel?”

  More screaming.

  With my hands on my hips, I stared her down as she continued to yell at me in some Eastern European language. “I have no idea what you’re saying!” Giving her the finger, I threw the towel back on the floor and ran back to the lockers as Caroline and Bridget laughed hysterically behind me.

  ***

  Forty-five minutes later, we were back in Manhattan. We were still laughing as we sat outside drinking beer and eating mussels at the Crow’s Nest, the bar on the upper level deck of The Water Club on the East River. “Oh my God, what the hell was that about?” Caroline said.

  “No clue,” I said. “Maybe I stole her towel? But since she wasn’t speaking English, how was I to know?”

  “Did you see the rack on her?” Bridget said, her face matching the color of her hair as she tried to stifle her laughter. “Someone should have worn a sports bra when she was younger and maybe her boobs wouldn’t hang so low now!”

  “It was hard to notice her boobs with that ‘70s bush! Her husband must need a weedwacker!” I shivered at the visual.

  “I thought I was gonna lose it when you gave her the finger!” Caroline said.

  I dropped my chin to my face as a rush of guilt at my immature behavior swept through me. “I felt bad but I had no idea what else to do.” Giggling, I said, “That place is a zoo!”

  Raising her glass, Bridget said, “To the Palace Spa.”

  “To the Palace Spa,” Caroline and I repeated, clinking our glasses together.

  “Never again,” we said in unison.

  I took a sip from my chilled pint of beer. Smacking my lips together, I said, “Tasty!”

  “True, that!” Bridget said, taking a sip of her beer.

  “So what were we discussing before we were so rudely interrupted by the Hot Tub Nazi?” I bit my lip as I recalled the topic of our prior conversation.

  Caroline raised an eyebrow. “I had asked about the status of the Nicholas situation.”

  I took another sip of beer hoping to drown my feelings for Nicholas in alcohol. “The situation is that he is leaving the firm next week and will probably fall in love with someone smarter, prettier and nicer at his new job. And taller,” I added.

  “He still likes you, Kimmie. I’m positive about that,” Bridget said assuredly.

  Feeling a knot in my stomach, I said, “Please don’t use that name. It reminds me of him. Everything reminds me of him. Even the song playing on the radio right now!” Playing in the background was Love Shack by The B-52s, Nicholas’ very first rock concert.

  “Why don’t you talk to him again?” Bridget asked.

  “I wouldn’t know what to say. I feel like we had closure when I went to his office and told him about my book. He congratulated me and turned back to his computer. He’s walked passed my desk many times since and although he no longer acts like I’m not in the room, he hasn’t initiated conversation either. Over and out!” He hadn’t even mentioned whether he liked my book, which I assumed meant he either hadn’t started reading it yet or he thought it sucked. I wasn’t sure which I preferred. If he hadn’t even started reading, it meant he was completely over me, but if he thought it sucked, it meant he thought it sucked. I frowned into the bowl of empty mussel shells.

  “There has to be something else you can do.” Bridget said.

  “Well if you think of something, let me know.” I swallowed another mussel and studied Caroline who was staring down at the table, seemingly lost in thought. “Caroline? Yoohoo!”

  Caroline looked up, her eyes wide. “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking.”

  “Thinking about what?” Bridget asked.

  Caroline’s cheeks flushed. “This is going to sound silly, but I was thinking…” She paused.

  “Thinking about what?” Bridget repeated.

  “Who knows more about chick lit than almost anyone?” Caroline asked.

  “Sophia Kinsella?” I guessed.

  Caroline shook her head and smiled. “Nope.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “You!” she said, pointing at me.

  Laughing, I said, “I’m flattered you think so. But what does that have to do with anything?”

  “What do most chick lit books have in common?” she asked.

  Raising her hand, Bridget said, “I know! I know! Designer shoes, lots of cocktails and dating stories from hell.”

  Immediately defensive, I said, “Not all of them! Hmm, what about humor? Female main character?”

  Nodding, Carol
ine said, “Yes, but what else?”

  I thought about the last few books I had read for my blog, including Cut on the Bias. Looking questioningly at Caroline, I said, “Happy endings?”

  “Bingo!” Caroline said.

  “I rule!” I took a bow while Bridget clapped her hands. “But what’s your point?”

  “Okay, this is where the silliness comes in, so bear with me,” Caroline said.

  Bridget and I looked at her expectantly.

  “If someone, say Sophie Kinsella, was writing the chick lit book of Kimberly Long, do you honestly think she’d end it this way?”

  “What way?” I asked.

  “You and your girlfriends eating mussels after a comical day at a so-called ‘spa’ lamenting your broken heart.” Caroline said.

  “Hey! I resemble that comment!” Bridget said, giggling.

  Waving Bridget away, Caroline adopted a serious expression. “Seriously, Kim. Is this how you want things to end with Nicholas?”

  I shook my head, wanting nothing more than to feel Nicholas’ arms around me again. And I missed his other parts too. “No.”

  “So fight for him!” she said.

  Feeling my face burn, I said, “How?”

  “I don’t know how exactly.” Caroline frowned. “But what if Rachel never told Dex to cancel his wedding to Darcy in Something Borrowed? Or Bridget Jones didn’t chase Mark Darcy to his parents’ Christmas Party and tell him not to move to the United States? Would those books have been as good if the girls hadn’t fought for their men?”

  Shaking my head, I said, “No way.”

  “Exactly!” Caroline said. “If Kimberly Long was the heroine of a chick lit book, don’t you think she would pull out all of the stops with some grand gesture or something?”

  I sighed. “Probably. But if I knew what to do, I’d do it!” I’d have done it already.

  Caroline raised her voice. “Then write it, Kim. Pretend you’re writing a romance novel and figure out what to do to show Nicholas how much you care.”

  “You are a writer, Kim,” Bridget chimed in.

  Momentarily going off subject, Caroline said, “Yeah, I still can’t believe you never told me you were a writer. All that bonding over books and not a word.”

  I shrugged. “I was in denial.”

  “Yeah, you were,” Bridget agreed. “Not to mention chicken shit. Until Nicholas brought you out of your shell.”

  “With a little push from Hannah Marshak. Can’t let that bitch upstage me forever,” I said.

  Smiling brightly, Bridget said, “So glad to hear you call her a bitch again. I was worried about you!”

  Caroline rolled her eyes at Bridget. “You really hate that girl, don’t you?”

  “The five minutes she was nice to Kim don’t make up for the 500 times she wasn’t. Five minutes notwithstanding, a leopard doesn’t change its spots,” Bridget said.

  “Too bad, I thought maybe me, you, Hannah and Plum Sheridan could go out for drinks together,” I teased.

  Bridget didn’t respond except to subtly scratch her nose with her middle finger while looking at me.

  I laughed and turned to face Caroline who said, “So what do you say? Now that you completed your first novel, think you can write your own happy ending?”

  The three of us sat in silence for a moment letting Caroline’s idea sink in. She made it seem as simple as “four plus four equals eight.”

  Finally, I turned to Bridget. “What do you think Bridge?”

  “Do you want another shot with Nicholas?” she asked.

  I nodded solemnly. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  Bridget looked at me, her green eyes watering. “Then not to get all Miranda Hobbs on you but…” Placing her hand over mine, she said, “Go get your man!”

  CHAPTER 31

  THAT MONDAY, I was finalizing my 3-star review of Better Luck Next Time, a romantic comedy that could have been more comedic if the author hadn’t utilized every chick lit cliché in the book, from the gay best friend, to the shoe addiction, to the evil boss, when I received an email with the subject line, “Nicholas’ Farewell” from Lucy. I had been cautiously awaiting this email for the last two weeks. All too aware that time was running out for devising a plan to get Nicholas back, I was both excited for an opportunity to be in the same room with both him and alcohol (aka “liquid courage”) and dreading the close of the night when I would probably never have an excuse to see him again. About to open the email, my phone rang. Still looking at my computer screen, I picked up the phone, “This is Kimberly.” I clicked on the email.

  “This is Erin!” my sister mimicked.

  I instantly wished I had looked at my caller ID before picking up. “Hi,” I responded dryly.

  The time is quickly approaching to bid farewell to Nicholas as he embarks on his next legal adventure. We'll miss him but can be comforted knowing he will have an endless supply of soap to keep him smelling good.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled through my nose, trying to conjure up Nicholas' scent from my memory. Sweet like gingerbread.

  “Hello?”

  I opened my eyes. “Oh. Sorry, Erin. I was reading an important email when you called. Got distracted. What's up?”

  “I saw your review of Hannah's book.”

  “You just read it now?”

  Erin let out a deep breath as if exhausted. “I'm furnishing our living room and have been so preoccupied that I hadn't been on Facebook in a while. I was on Hannah's page and I saw the link to the review.”

  I wasn't going to tell her that the review was also posted on her very own sister's blog. God forbid she got a subscription. Even Sarah, Nicholas' friend, had a subscription but not my own sister. I continued reading the email.

  Please join us this Friday night directly after work. We've rented the back room of Iggy's on 2nd Avenue between 74th and 75th for happy hour.

  The Upper East Side was kind of far away from the office, but whatever. At least it was close to my apartment.

  “You liked the book, huh?” She said knowingly.

  “Yeah. It was a solid debut novel. Hannah is a good writer,” I admitted. I was still in shock that I could say that without instantly vomiting in my mouth.

  “I told you so!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Hannah’s not all bad. She had me laughing out loud when we went out for drinks.”

  I heard Erin gasp. “Wait... What? You had drinks with Hannah? When? Where?”

  I remained silent, but smiled as Erin continued with her barrage of questions.

  “Do you think you'll have drinks again?”

  Unlikely. “Probably.” I smiled again.

  “Maybe I can come along! I’ll take the train in and stay with you?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. We'll see.” I was probably going to hell but it would be worth it.

  The person with the best Karaoke performance will drink for free! Who are we kidding, drinks on the firm for everyone of course.

  See you there.

  “Erin, I gotta go.” I hung up.

  Karaoke, huh? Interesting.

  CHAPTER 32

  I STRAIGHTENED OUT my form-fitting T-shirt so that the words “Penny Lane” fell across my chest and took a deep breath before entering Iggy’s. I declined heading there with the folks from the office so that I could run home and change first. I felt like such a dork wearing the shirt and wondered if Nicholas would even notice it. He was such a Beatles fan he might not make the connection to the jingle he had written after the first time we had sex. Who was I kidding? The second he saw me, he would know it was no coincidence. It made no difference since my feelings for him would be obvious to everyone by the time the night was over anyway. Assuming I don’t chicken out.

  The narrow front area of the bar was pretty empty for a Friday night and the bartender glanced at me as I walked in. I pointed to the back area. “Here for the party,” I said and kept walking. I paused for a moment before heading in and made a quick decision to pretend thi
s was like any other happy hour I had attended with my colleagues. I would politely say “hi” to Nicholas and then socialize with the others until it was time.

  Walking into the room, I whispered to myself, “You can do this.”

  “Kim!”

  I turned left toward the sound of my name and faced Lucy. Her cheeks were flushed and her blonde hair fell loosely across her shoulders. I almost didn’t recognize her.

  “Where have you been? I’m almost finished with my second Appletini!”

  Her more relaxed demeanor made much more sense once I noticed the almost empty martini glass in her hand. “Sorry I’m late. I had to run an errand first.” At that moment, the crowd parted and I saw Nicholas in the back of the room. He had also changed—into dark blue jeans, a brown T-shirt and his Converse sneakers. He was talking to Rob, whose back was to me, but his eyes met mine and I smiled softly in his direction to disguise the trembling in my stomach. I felt every muscle in my body tense and wondered if he could read my shirt from across the bar. I took a step in his direction, opting to get the initial awkwardness over with. I hoped he would react positively to my being there and help instill the confidence I needed to go ahead with The Plan. If not, there was Plan B: shots.

  “I’m going to get another drink.” Motioning to my empty hand, Lucy grabbed my arm. “Looks like you need one too. Come with me!”

  Following Lucy to the bar, I glanced back at Nicholas over my shoulder. He was still talking to Rob.

  “What are you drinking?” Lucy asked.

  I watched the bartender as he prepared another Appletini for Lucy. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  Grinning, Lucy said, “Good choice.”

  The bartender smiled at me and I shrugged, smiled back and mumbled, “I certainly hope so.”

  Taking a sip of her drink while the bartender prepared mine, Lucy said, “Are you gonna perform later?”