by Rachel Astor
I hadn’t even known he’d walked into the room.
“Oh,” I shook my head a little, still trying to get a handle on the phone call. “Nothing. Just a friend of my sisters. She’s a literary agent now I guess.”
“Huh,” Jake said, stretching, still waking up. “That’s weird.”
“Yeah,” I sat down. “She thinks I should publish the Disaster Diary.”
“Yeah right,” he snorted. “Doesn’t she know that’s sort of been done already?”
“Yeah,” I said, laughing a little too. “It’s just that the whole thing hasn’t been published, just those few stories in the newspaper.”
“Yeah, what a nightmare that was. Thank God we don’t have to go through that again.”
“Yeah. I mean, well, unless it does get published.”
“Which would never happen, because you would never put yourself through that again, right?”
“Right,” I said, though something was niggling in the back of my mind. “But… what if I decided to consider this. I mean it could be the start of something for me career wise.”
He laughed again. “You’re worried about money now? Because I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but I make plenty for both of us.” He leaned in to wrap his arms around me.
I pushed him away. “I said career, not money.”
He crinkled his brow. “So, now you want to be a writer?”
“What do you mean, now?” I said, my jaw dropping.
“Well, it’s just kind of out of the blue, don’t you think?”
“Out of the blue?” I yelled. “What do you think I’ve been doing my entire adult life?”
He made a face like he had no idea what I was talking about. “Um… working at that advertising place.”
“As a copywriter!” I shouted.
“Yeah, so? So that makes you a writer?”
“Um, yeah!” I said, my eyes bugging out. “That what writers do to pay the bills. It’s a gateway into a more advanced writing career. And hello? Did you forget about the friggin’ book I wrote a few months ago?” Technically it was only half a book, but still.
He just kept sitting there, scrunching up his face like the fact that I’d made plans for my life, or had any sort of ambition at all was coming as a complete shock to him. “But that was just for the money, right? A way to run away from your life for a little while.”
My mouth opened and closed like a fish, the words about to spill out, then nothing would actually come. I wondered if steam was actually seeping off the top of my head, or maybe out my ears.
“Is that really who you think I am?”
“Well, it’s not all you are,” he said, going on the defensive now that he’d gotten me so worked up. “And it’s part of your charm, the quirky way you jump from job to job.”
I gasped. “I do not jump from job to job! I had the copywriting job for three years before the stupid Bridesmaid Lotto came along!”
“Oh,” he said, crossing his arms. “So now you regret the Bridesmaid Lotto, do you? Well I suppose you regret meeting me too.”
I sighed, dropping my arms to my sides. “Of course not. It’s just… I guess you have a different picture of me in your head than I thought you did. I didn’t know I was such a messed up ‘quirky’ person,” I said, using the good ol’ sarcastic finger quotes.
“Josie, I love you no matter what you do. That’s all I meant.”
“Even though I apparently have absolutely no ambition in this world whatsoever.”
He tilted his head. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” I said, and got up to leave the room.
More than anything, I needed time to think, so I headed straight for the bathroom to take a long, hot shower.
Half an hour later, I emerged feeling only slightly better. Especially once I discovered that Jake had left.
I guess he needed some time too.
~ ~ ~
I flipped through the Disaster Diary, wondering if I could go through the whole thing again. I mean, Jake obviously didn’t want to, but the thing was, I’d kind of started owning my humiliations and embarrassments. They’d become a huge part of who I was. I mean, I kind of felt like the class clown or the court jester most of the time, but when the diary came out in the paper, things kind of changed.
I mean, sure, it was mortifying at first, when the whole world found out all my deepest, darkest secrets, but the thing was, it made people open up to me. Tell me they were exactly the same. That knowing there was someone out there who had gone through similar stuff made them feel better. And let’s face it, everyone has their moments right?
It was like suddenly, the whole world could relate to me.
More importantly, for the first time in my life, I felt like I could relate to the world. Not just the world on a whole, but each individual person I talked to. There would always be an icebreaker.
I flipped through page after page, a smile crossing my face more often than not.
Dear Disaster Diary,
I was asked to sit at the popular table at school. Me. No seriously.
There was this whole thing where Missy Owens tried to stick toilet paper to the back of Karen Sawatski’s shoe so she would trail it along behind her down the hall. Which would just be so embarrassing.
In hindsight it was actually an ingenious plan, and took some guts to pull off. She used the tiniest dot of chewed gum on the end of the strip of toilet paper, then had to sit there in the bathroom the whole time to make sure no one else accidentally took off with her little trick.
So, just as she was about to leave the restroom, I tapped Karen on the shoulder to let her know she was trailing TP and she was actually thankful. I mean, Missy was steaming, but I had been that girl with paper trailing behind me before, and I just couldn’t bear to see someone else go through it, even if it was the girl who basically made most of my friend’s lives miserable.
So my big reward was to sit with Karen at lunch… and it was so awesome. The boys all said hi and the girls just acted like nothing was out of the ordinary, as if Josie McMaster belonged there.
Sigh. But of course I screwed it up.
Royally.
I took a big sip of my grape juice box right when Les Hardwick said something really funny, God, I can’t even remember what it was, but I inhaled because I was going to laugh. Of course, a bit of the grape juice went down my windpipe and I began to choke.
But under no circumstances would I spew out my grape juice at the cool table. I mean, I’d never be asked to sit there again. So I held in the cough as hard as I could, struggling to swallow and struggling even harder to breathe slow and controlled through my nose. My windpipe, however, was not cooperating. It had sealed itself off so tight, not a wisp of air could get through.
Things turned from not wanting to spit out grape juice to not wanting to die, really quickly. It didn’t take long before people were starting to notice, to look around for an adult or someone to tell them what to do.
Somehow I willed my body to just go ahead and spit out the juice, popularity be damned. I didn’t see where it flew but relief flooded over me as my windpipe began to open—just a smidgeon—and air finally filled my lungs.
Of course I pretty much sounded like a donkey, that first gulp of air trying to fight its way in through a tiny hole, but at least I was alive!
Five minutes later though, I wasn’t feeling quite as good when I looked over to see Karen’s white shirt covered in a nasty, purple stain.
Damn.
On the bright side, at least Missy felt so sorry for me, she wasn’t that ticked off anymore.
And they only called me donkey for a few months.
I ran my finger over the page, smiling at how dramatic everything seemed back then. I could totally see another teenage girl relating to my dorky antics in high school. And there were certainly enough entries from my adult life to make anyone squirm a little.
And probably laugh a lot.
I ha
d to admit it, I was actually starting to entertain Carla’s offer.
CHAPTER 13
I spent the rest of the day typing the diary into digital format. I mean, I hadn’t made my decision or anything, goodness knows that hardly ever happened, but what could it hurt having it ready to go if I did decide to do it?
It was kind of fun, actually, reliving some of those ridiculous memories. It was certainly a lot nicer this time around than it had been that gloomy day in Bali. Sure, I was alone in my apartment here too, but at least I didn’t feel as abandoned as I had that day. It was a little weird, I guess, since Jake had left without saying goodbye, but who could blame him since I pretty much walked out myself.
Before I started with the diary though, I’d emailed everyone to let them know we’d chosen a date. I knew I’d probably have a few emails in my inbox awaiting my arrival back, but I was so not prepared for what I found.
There were over thirty new messages. Of course, twenty-five of then were either from Mattie or my mother.
I guess they were starting to panic, which meant I could not waste any more time. I had to do it.
I had to choose.
Which definitely called for a hot chocolate.
I snuck down to the street, waving at Andrea and headed to the coffee shop, ordering a Salted Caramel to go.
Back at the apartment, my mother stood, waiting for my return.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Mother!” I said, whisper-yelling. “Can you wait until we get inside please?” I glanced at Andrea and the gang, smiling through gritted teeth.
“Well hurry up then!” she whisper-yelled back.
The paparazzo was intensely intrigued by the exchange, the big guy writing away furiously already.
The door latched behind us. “There are gossips out there mother!” I said sternly.
“I know,” she said, putting her hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. But you just sent that email and then disappeared from the face of the planet. I obviously had to rush over here, and then when you weren’t home I started panicking. Thank God you walked up when you did, I was about to start shaking the collar of that fellow with the large glasses just to get some information out of him.”
I snorted, imagining my mother’s perfectly coiffed hair bouncing as she shook the poor nerdy guy into oblivion. At least she’d have to get off my case about being careful in public after her face got plastered all over the covers of the rags.
We got into the apartment and mother smoothed the front of her jacket and skirt about twenty times, obviously still trying to compose herself. “Alright, let’s get to work. We are going to be on high alert for the next ninety days at least, and you’re going to have to be on constant standby.”
“Did you like… join the military or something?” I teased.
She gave me one of her famous motherly, impatient looks. “You’re the one who just dropped the bomb of the century and you’re accusing me of military action?”
“Har, har,” was the oh-so-witty comeback I was able to formulate.
“Now hurry up, we have a ton of work to do.”
“Work?”
She folded her hands calmly in front of her, pursing her lips. “Yes dear, the wedding? You may remember that you’re getting married… in THREE MONTHS!”
I blinked back my shock at her yelling. “Okay, okay, sheesh.” I figured that moment, when she was being Godzilla-of-the-bride, was not the most opportune moment to fill her in on the little tidbit that I hadn’t actually chosen my wedding planner yet.
She’d probably climb the Empire State Building or something.
“Come on!” she said. “We’re taking my car.”
I sighed, thanking my lucky stars that I’d had time to grab my sugar fix.
She talked as she walked. “We’ve got to decide on flowers, I’ve got a cake tasting lined up, then there’s the venue,” she looked at the sky. “Good Lord I don’t know how we’re going to get a venue at the last minute like this.”
I mumbled something unintelligible.
“And for Pete’s sake, we have got to start booking some of this stuff. The time for looking is over.”
Again with the mumbling.
The rest of the day was a complete whirlwind. With the giant hot chocolate and then straight to the cake tasting, I’d never had so much sugar in my life. After that, I was completely useless, in a total sugar coma, trying to sleep it off between appointment after appointment. I honestly had no idea what I agreed to.
Hopefully, even in my hopped-up state, I’d had the sense not to finalize anything.
It’ll be fine, I kept telling myself. It’ll be fine.
~ ~ ~
Thank goodness Jake was back to his usual self, apologizing with three-dozen burgundy roses, personally delivered to my door.
“I am so sorry,” he said, happily using his key this time, much to my relief.
After that new blowout the other morning, I wasn’t sure if we’d already fallen into the trap I’d seen so many of my friends fall into… fighting over useless, petty crap every moment of every day.
I beamed. “I… I just don’t want to turn into one of those couples who has nothing to talk about unless they’re fighting over something.”
“I know,” he said, shortening the distance between us. He handed me the huge bouquet. “I don’t either.”
He grabbed me, tightening his grip around me, and the only thing I wished in that moment was that there was someone else in the house to magically take the flowers from me so I could ravage my man properly.
Later that night, Jake took me out on a romantic, fully catered boat ride. There was just something magical about the moon shining off the water while you’re across a single candle’s light from the one person in the world who you love the most.
Unfortunately, the whole evening was mostly to get some time in together before he had to leave again. I hated how needy I felt, wanting nothing more than to grab him and never let him go.
“I’ll call every day, you know that,” he said, rubbing my thumb as he held my hand across the table.
I nodded. “I know, it’s just that… it seems harder this time for some reason.”
“I know,” he said, crinkling his brow. “It’s like that for me too. Like, I feel closer to you now or something and it sucks that much more to go.”
“Exactly,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t see the glisten in my eyes in the candlelight.
Of course he did though, and when one fell, he whisked it away.
I wanted nothing more than to make love to him one more time, there on the romantic boat, but with the zoom lenses these days, that was not a risk we could take. Who knew who was out there lurking on the shore? Or from a friggin’ helicopter for all I knew.
~ ~ ~
“What am I going to do? What am I going to do?” I yelled several days later, my voice getting more manic by the second.
“You need to take a load off,” Jen said, handing me a glass of wine.
She’d put her own drink in a wine glass for effect, though it was straight up grape juice.
“You’ll never figure it out if you’re wound up this tight. Nothing good can come from a pressure decision.”
“It was a pressure decision six weeks ago. Now it’s downright critical.”
She tilted her head, contending the point. “And that’s why it’s even more important to clear your head and relax.”
“The wine is supposed to clear my head? Really?”
She shrugged. “Well it can’t hurt. You have got to relax. I’ve never seen you so stressed out, and believe me, I’ve seen you stressed.”
“Oh my God I know,” I said, talking a gulp of the wine. “I just… God, I just don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
She nodded, understanding. “But you can’t have two people planning two completely different weddings.”
“You don’t think I know that?” I said, glaring.
> “Of course I know you know that, it’s just… someone had to say it out loud, right? I mean, time is ticking.”
I sighed.
“Look, lets just have a few drinks,” she said, rolling her eyes at her own glass, “and see if we can talk it out. Who knows, maybe one of them will jump out at you as the obvious choice once we start breaking it down.”
I nodded, taking another gulp. This was going to take a lot of wine.
Over the next couple hours, we talked about everything, okay, mostly about pregnancy, babies, and well… Jake and David.
“I’m just still so… up in the air with him,” Jen said. “I mean he’s great, I just don’t know if I want someone who’s going to be in the public eye like that. Who’s going to be away all of the time.”
I gave her a panicked face. I mean, she was completely describing my life too, after all.
She shook her head. “It’s not the same for you,” she said, sipping her juice. “You don’t have a baby to worry about. I can’t just up and head to New Zealand for the weekend, you know? There’s stability, and finances, and sleeping to worry about.”
I had to giggle at her obsession with the sleeping thing, although if I knew anything about Jen, it was that she loved her eight to nine hours a night.
“I mean, you don’t even have to worry about a job or deadlines right now, you don’t have anything tying you down.”
I opened a new bottle, hating that she was right. “There is this one thing that could happen,” I said, wondering if I sounded slurry to Jen. “This old friend of Rosie’s called me up out of the blue the other day.”
“Okay,” Jen said, only half paying attention, trying to get just one more drop to shake out of her plastic juice jug.
“She’s this literary agent…”
Jen’s head snapped up. “Seriously? Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a meeting with a literary agent?”
I shrugged. “No.”
