The Theory of Happily Ever After

by Kristin Billerbeck

  “Haley, please. That’s like reading my diary. It’s not ready for public consumption. I’m going to get it edited by a professional. And, of course, change the names.”

  “My name is in it, seems like I’m entitled to read it. As is Sam.”

  I’m horrified and my expression must show it. “I was going to change the names. Sam . . .” My eyes plead with him not to look. “They’re just markers so I can remember to find and replace them. That’s all. I needed an ending, and it was just easier with the two of you here to write your names until I got back to my computer and input everything in the screenplay.”

  “Sam is your hero?”

  “Just his name.” This is more mortifying than anything I’ve gone through with Jake or the university, because I realize that Sam matters to me. What he thinks about me matters. It’s his unconditional acceptance of me when everyone else is pushing me to go back to the life I had. Sure, his words said that he didn’t want another intellectual in his life, but his actions were completely different. His actions pursued me, coddled me, took care of and protected me.

  “This is how you feel?” Haley asks. “You think I’m flirtatious with everyone? You like Sam and think he’s off-limits because I forced you to make a demented promise?”

  Didn’t I though? “It’s fiction, I’ve told you. Now give me my notebook. I want to go back to the ship.”

  “It’s fiction? Where your man-eating, redheaded best friend is surreptitiously dumped by a six-foot-two hero and the science professor runs off with him? Oh, that’s fiction all right.”

  “Sam is taller than six foot two. Haley, please. I’m not that creative. I used what was in front of me, and yes, I wrote myself a happily ever after. Is that so wrong? Jane Austen did it!”

  “You are no Jane Austen. You realize your fictional story is exactly what happened to my mother,” Haley accuses. “She was left for a younger PhD candidate to live out her golden years alone while my dad raised someone else’s kid.”

  “None of that is in there. You’re projecting.”

  “Don’t use your fancy psychology words with me.”

  “I swear, I didn’t even think about your mother and father.”

  “Does this make you feel good about yourself?”

  “Of course not, but it’s not about your mother. It’s a story.”

  “This is why everything in your life has gone bad, Maggie. I don’t even know who you are anymore. But I know that my former best friend would not take what matters to me and plot it out as you’ve so brilliantly done here. My Maggie wouldn’t hurt anyone she loved by using their story for romance fodder.”

  For the first time, I’m angry. Truly angry that my friends have hijacked my life under the guise of helping me. Maybe I didn’t want their help—did that ever occur to them?

  “No!” I shout. “Because that Maggie always did what was right for other people, no matter how much it cost me. I gave everyone what they wanted to the point where it destroyed the person I was created to be. I didn’t even know what I wanted anymore. It was so convoluted with what other people said. ‘This is best for you, Maggie.’ ‘No, over here. This is the path to take.’ ” I raise my hands in the air. “But I’ve had time to think. God doesn’t want that for me. God doesn’t ask me to be a martyr for everyone else. He did that. He died on the cross so that I don’t have to. Do you know why I’m not happy, Haley? Do you know why I’ve found the answer for everyone else’s happiness, but I’ve been miserable?”

  “Because you didn’t steal what you wanted?”

  “No, because I didn’t even know what I wanted.”

  “And now you do? It just happens to be a guy who said you were exactly the type of woman he avoided? That’s not a red flag to you? Or is that why you’re interested? Because he’s a challenge?”

  “I never said that, actually,” Sam tells Haley.

  “You did. You said that intelligent women are incapable of true happiness. I heard you, Sam.”

  “That was my own wounded pride speaking. Obviously I didn’t mean it. Maggie knows I didn’t mean it.” He takes my hand, and it’s as if Haley disappears from my view. “You know I didn’t mean it, right?”

  I nod. “I know.”

  “That doesn’t explain this.” Haley waves my notebook in the wind. “You have real work due. Your job is gone, at least temporarily, and no hero on a white horse is coming to rescue you. Do you get that? Do you get that Kathleen and I have given up our week to try to get you back on track? I sent your work to Dr. Hamilton and an application to NYU while you sat around and watched television.”

  “You did that?” I feel the sting of tears starting. “You sent Dr. Hamilton my stuff?”

  “Maggie, I love you. We love you. I’m sorry you felt like you didn’t know what you wanted and we were forcing you into something that may have been wrong for you. I only did those things because I thought that was what you wanted, and I wanted you to be happy again. You were always such a beacon of light, always up, always the happy one. We didn’t recognize you and it scared us.”

  “I thought it was what I wanted too. I can’t blame you for that. But somewhere along the line, the work stopped being fulfilling, and I needed a break to figure it all out.”

  “I get it. Maybe I thought too much about my publicity business and my motives weren’t pure.”

  “Incidentally, I never thought that Prince Charming was coming to rescue me. I’m perfectly capable of rescuing myself.” I rake my fingers through my tangled beach hair. “Is it so wrong that I might want to share my life with someone else?”

  Haley turns toward Sam and then smiles coyly at me. “So you’re angry with me for grabbing you off that sofa like the larva you’d become?”

  Then it dawns on me. Haley doesn’t get that life isn’t about being the prettiest, flirtiest princess who can choose from among her suitors like she’s starring in her own season of The Bachelorette.

  My own journey has been a little more rugged. It’s been peppered with people who want to tell me what’s best for me without actually asking for my input. The only common denominator between all those controlling people is me. And they no longer get a vote. I may be single, unemployed, and on my mother’s spite list, but I know now what I don’t want in my life—and I suppose when you’re starting over, that’s half the battle in creating a new life.

  23

  Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.

  Joshua 1:9 NASB

  KATHLEEN AND BRENT ARE STILL flying behind a motorboat when I get back onto the ship and onto the deck. I can hear them screaming and waving at the passengers on the ship and having the time of their life. I smile at Kathleen’s love of adrenaline—if it weren’t for her, I’d never have half my life experiences. She made me try ice climbing (um, no), Rollerblading (not bad), fly-fishing, and horse dressage—and what I learned from the sum of those experiences is that some people are born outdoorsmen and some aren’t.

  The idea of Haley reading my notebook has me obsessing. Did she show Sam? Did they flip through the pages together? I try to account for how much time they had together before he came back to me. I picture them laughing at my sophomoric Cinderella dreams that I had scribbled in the pages. The ridiculous scenario I wrote . . . Sam literally sweeping me off my feet in the sand. The smallest detail of his swirled-chocolate brown eyes, the freckle on his lip, the tiny scar across the bridge of his nose.

  There’s no denying Sam’s identification in the story. It’s as though I painted him in oil. I could just die of mortification at the thought of the two of them standing huddled together, sharing a laugh over my teenage diary–like imagination. I clamp my eyes shut, praying for the plaguing thoughts to disappear. I did all the right things when it came to Sam and Haley, but my heart didn’t follow suit.

  I plot out my remaining days on board the ship so that I never have to face Sam Wellington again. I could skip dinner for the res
t of the cruise. I figure he’ll have enough decency not to attend my speech, and at the costume ball I can trade in my Belle costume and go as something that requires a mask. Or a paper bag. Secretly, I hope he attends the costume ball in all his finery. I don’t know why I relish seeing him one last time, but I want his handsome face solidified in my memory bank. If for no other reason than because he taught me to feel again.

  The only thing that haunts me now is a future where he and Haley continue to have a romantic relationship. If this isn’t a fly-by-night shipboard romance, my entire plot will have to change. Then I’ll have to throw myself on the mercy of Dr. Hamilton at NYU and get to the other side of the country as soon as possible. Maybe even settle for some junior college in North Dakota if necessary.

  I don’t believe Haley can make a man like Sam happy. I’m biased. I’m jealous. But I stand by my data. Sam needs more than a pretty face. Haley could be what he needs, if she’d let a man see her true character, but I have yet to see that happen. She plays a role and men fall at her feet. That’s the way it works. Sam needs more.

  Hours pass before Haley and Kathleen enter the room, as somberly as if they’re attending a wake. The silence is overwhelmingly awkward, and the room is sucked dry of its peaceful feeling. Three best friends since college and no one has a thing to say to one another.

  Haley finally tosses my notebook on the sofa. “There’s your notebook.”

  I can’t even reply. A single tear drops from my eye.

  “Don’t give me those puppy-dog eyes. I thought this was what you wanted, Maggie. To be a successful author again. I didn’t know that your youthful days of fanciful romance were filling up your head. I mean, how much money is there in writing screenplays these days? You couldn’t even feed that borrowed cat of yours, most likely.”

  “It doesn’t matter how much money is in it. It was something I wanted to do, and I don’t understand why you can’t support my dreams for once.”

  “I did support your dream. Kathleen and I both did, but we didn’t know this was your dream. You sprang it on us like a bad check.”

  “You don’t understand, Haley. You think you do, but you have no idea.”

  “I know that you’ve known me for years but you sided with some random guy—like I wasn’t good enough for him.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat.

  “That’s what you thought, isn’t it? That Sam was too good for me?”

  “No. I thought he was wrong for you. There’s a difference.”

  “Is there?” Haley’s green eyes are narrowed like a crouching feline’s.

  It’s never occurred to me how utterly spoiled Haley can be when she doesn’t get her way. I suppose she’s gotten her way most of the time since I’ve known her, but when she doesn’t, she turns into a screaming toddler.

  “I didn’t think you understood what Sam has been through.”

  “But you do, I suppose.”

  “I’m not going to argue over a man, Haley. You want him? He’s yours. I’m only trying to explain why I bonded with him, why I felt a connection that neither of you can understand.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I bonded with Sam because we both felt responsible for someone and lost them. Do you have any idea of the burden that leaves on a heart? It’s imprinted like a tattoo that never fades.”

  “Losing a job and Jake isn’t like losing a wife, Maggie. You’ve been in that lab too long if you think your losses equal his.”

  “Not my job, Haley. My sister.” I feel a whoosh of relief mentioning her, as if something dynamic and supernatural has been released from underneath me and I can fly again.

  “You don’t have a sister,” Kathleen says.

  “I do. I did. I did have a sister.” I shake my head wildly. “No more secrets. No more lies. I had a sister. Amy was her name. I lost her when she was eight and I was ten.” I hold back tears. “My little sister.” My responsibility.

  Kathleen and Haley both stare at me, waiting for me to tell them I’m joking.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell us?” Haley asks.

  “I wasn’t allowed.” I correct myself. “I didn’t think I was allowed. We didn’t speak of her after she left us. That’s how we handled Amy’s loss as a family. We tried to forget that she existed, but it never worked. It only made things ten times worse.”

  “Your mom never got you counseling after you lost a sister?”

  My first instinct is to protect my mother and offer up an explanation for her actions, but for some reason I don’t. “My mother didn’t want us airing our dirty laundry. My sister died in the backyard pool, and they were already questioned by CPS. Any mention of Amy reminded my mother of her failure as a mother.”

  “That’s why you’re afraid to go in the water,” Haley says. “Maggie, accidents happen. That was your mother’s to deal with, not a ten-year-old’s responsibility.”

  “My mom didn’t always try to control the world. That started when Amy left us. We left the church. We left our neighborhood. We just acted like it never happened. There was a short time, honestly, when I did forget that it happened—like I wondered if I’d dreamed it all. I had to go back and look at the photos, and I promised myself I’d never forget, no matter what my parents said.”

  “You kept all this to yourself?” Kathleen asks. “I thought we shared everything.”

  “I can’t believe your parents took you from everything you knew,” Haley says.

  “We didn’t mention Amy in our house, but I never forgot her. She was part of my soul. I went forward, powering through everything in front of me. Until Jake left me and I couldn’t keep pretending anymore. I’m not Amy. She was the smart one. She was the pretty one. She was the happy, sparkly one that everyone wanted to be around. I tried as hard as I could to mimic her so my parents wouldn’t miss her anymore, but then I forgot why I was here. I didn’t know what Amy would do next because Jake wouldn’t have left her.”

  “So you only became a doctor because that’s what Amy would have done?”

  “I don’t know. I became a doctor because it made my parents happy. That was the least I could do, wasn’t it?”

  My mind went back to Amy’s empty bed in my room. My loneliness felt all-encompassing, and it left a God-sized hole that nothing seemed to fill. Maybe, I’d thought back then, my parents were right to leave the church. What kind of God would take my sister away from me? Why leave me, the unlovable one, and take Amy, everyone’s favorite?

  “Things are all making so much more sense now.” Haley appears as if she might cry. “Trauma. I should have known. Why didn’t we know?” she asks Kathleen.

  “It felt like a sin to say what happened out loud. That’s how we dealt with it. Or didn’t deal with it, I suppose.”

  “You told Sam this, but not us?” Haley twists her hair around her finger like she does when she gets nervous.

  I shake my head. “I never told him, but I think he sensed something in me. Maybe it’s what drew me to him, but we had this connection I can’t explain.”

  “What drew you to him?” Haley asks as her empathy dies. “You’re living in your head again! He was drawn to rescue you from a smoky death because he’s that kind of person. He didn’t want to watch someone die!”

  “Stop!” Kathleen shouts so loud we’re both stunned into silence. “This is not working. You two.” She shakes her finger at both of us. “Working together doesn’t work. At all! Haley, I tried to help you get Maggie back to work, but that’s enough. We have to let her decide when she’s done with her pity party. Maggie, you need to stop denying your true feelings. You’re going to give up Sam because of Haley—why? What makes her more important than you? Why is everyone always first and you’re last? If you want Sam, girl, you go get him. Haley will recover and you know it. She was flirting because she was bored!”

  “I was not!” But Haley’s resolve dies on the last word.

  “That’s why her chasing Sam bothered you to begin with,” Kathleen s
ays to me. “You’re not responsible for everyone’s happiness, do you know that?” She turns back to Haley. “And I told you he wasn’t for you, so this is your own fault. You just wanted to prove me wrong.”

  We all go our separate ways on the ship at this point. Sometimes friendships need a vacation so they can heal. This one might need a sabbatical. But I know we’ll forgive each other. We always do.

  After my speech on Tuesday morning, which goes off without a hitch or a natural disaster, I get a message that I’m to call Dr. Fleece immediately. This must be where my job goes away for good and I call Taco Bell for employment opportunities while I wait for my screenplay to sell. And all I can think is, Jake has won. Like always. Evil triumphs. He was better at the game, mostly because I didn’t know we were playing. It looks as if he’ll leave me with nothing.

  Where is God in this scenario? When evil continues to win? Where is the happiness in that?

  As soon as I ask the questions, I feel guilty. My faith has waned in trying to make Jake the center of my world. I deserve to be forgotten. Or like Jonah, thrown off this ship for my unbelief. I should be grateful all I did was lose my job.

  I enter my suite to make the phone call. It’s eight dollars an hour, but how long can it take to fire me? I imagine Dr. Fleece will be expedient. She generally is.

  “Dr. Fleece, this is Maggie. I’m returning your call.”

  “Maggie.” She sighs heavily. “I’m so glad you called.”

  “You said it was urgent.”

  “It is. Your grant for the resilience study has been approved!” Actual emotion is coming from Dr. Fleece. The world has turned on its axis.

  The inner rush I feel is fleeting as I realize I still may be out of a job. My grant may go to the next doctor of happiness to take my place. “Dr. Fleece, do I still have a job at the university?”