Sunset had passed, but there was still enough light for Erin to see that Ben wasn't in the front yard. She rounded the house and finally spotted him sitting in his Explorer, keys in the ignition but trapped in by all the cars parked behind him in their narrow driveway. For the first time since the show's opening music began to play, Erin felt thankful that her friends and family were all there to witness her humiliation.
She pulled on the passenger-side door handle, but it was locked. She jiggled the handle and then knocked on the window. "Come on, Ben," she said when he looked at her. His face was expressionless.
He reached for the unlock button and clicked it.
Erin flung open the door and hopped onto the passenger seat. Before she could even get a word out, tears began to streak her cheeks again. She swiped them away with the back of her hand, smearing it with blue mascara.
Ben watched her in silence for a long moment and then, reluctantly, reached out and put an arm around her, pulling her into an awkward embrace. He buried his face in her hair.
"What the hell was that?" His voice was muffled by Erin's stiff '80s hairdo which she'd teased and sprayed until it resembled something from a Full House episode. When he pulled his head back to look at her, Erin's muscles tensed.
"Did you just not tell me the whole story? Did something happen between you and him before that night in the parking lot?"
His voice was so drenched with hurt that Erin grew hot with humiliation. She gritted her teeth. "No, nothing happened," she said, her voice a low growl. "I can't believe they did that to me." The tears started flowing faster.
Ben was quiet for a few seconds, Erin's sniffles the only sound. He peered at her, and she tried to rein in her sobs. "Can't believe they did that to you?" he said. "Did what? Who's 'they?'"
"The show," Erin burst out, exasperated. "Jarvis, Jeanette." She gritted her teeth again. "Leo."
As she said Leo's name, Ben noticeably stiffened. Through her red-hot frustration, Erin noticed. "Oh, God. Ben. I'm sorry." She choked out another sob, this one for a new reason. "I'm so sorry I did that dance class without you."
She buried her face in his chest despite the fact that she was smearing makeup all over his The A-Team T-shirt.
"Wait," he said. "Back up. What happened at the dance class, and why didn't you tell me about it before now? After everything I told you about—"
He cut off with a choking sound. Erin pulled her head back to look him in the eye. "I did tell you about it," she said. "I told you when I got home that night that Leo was leaving and couldn't shoot the scene any other time, so he filled in as my dance partner. That's everything. That's all that happened."
Ben stared down at her like she was missing something obvious or holding something back. His expression was confused, skeptical, and still hurt.
"E," he said. "The way you were looking at him." His voice broke on the last few words.
Erin burst out laughing, but it sounded more like a sob. "That's because I was pretending he was you," she wailed. She held his eyes, daring him not to believe her.
Ben's brow furrowed, and then he shook his head in fast, tiny strokes. "You were what?"
She laughed again, unable to help it, suddenly finding this tiny shred of humor in the situation hysterical. "Oh, God," she said as the memory played out behind her eyes. It was so twisted. No wonder he didn't believe her. "Yes, in that scene they showed, I was thinking about you. I'd been having trouble learning the steps because Leo made me so uncomfortable, and so to make myself loosen up and enjoy the dance, I pretended Leo was you."
Ben stared at her, still skeptical. "If he made you so uncomfortable," he said, "then why did you dance with him in the first place?"
Erin pulled back at the chill in his voice. Obviously Ben wasn't seeing the humor in the situation like she was.
"I danced with him because you weren't there. Because you didn't show up and because that left me with no choice."
The roller coaster her emotions were riding tipped into a new downward plunge. Now she wasn't furious only with Jarvis and Leo and the show. A strong, sudden wave of her former frustration at the way Ben left her high and dry during filming crashed over her, and she looked away from him, giving the neighbor's fence a stony stare.
"Oh, so you're blaming this on me."
"I'm not blaming anything on you. I wish you weren't blaming it on me, because I didn't do anything wrong."
"OK," Ben said, his voice measured, controlled, as it typically was even when he was angry. He was so damned rational all the time. "I just wish you'd given me more of the backstory about what led up to Leo hitting on you in that parking lot."
Erin was as still as a museum exhibit. She felt like she was floating again—above the car, above their house, above this whole blasted disaster of a night. "There is no backstory," she said between clenched teeth. "I can't believe you're suggesting that Leo attacking me in the parking lot was my fault. Nothing happened between us, and I swear that I did nothing to encourage him. Any assumptions he might have made about the way I felt about him were completely false."
When Ben didn't say anything, she went on, her voice growing shrill. "And he didn't get them from that dance class, either. I barely even spoke to him that night, except to tell him I didn't want to dance with him. His assumptions were wrong, and so are yours right now."
Stop now, she willed herself. But she plowed right on. "You should know what that feels like, considering the way you turned a blind eye to Melody drooling over you right up until the moment she jumped you."
Ben studied her, somber as a crime scene investigator. And then, making a visible effort to control his tone, he said, "I'm not making any assumptions. I believe you."
Erin could tell from the strain in his voice that he wanted to but that he didn't, not one hundred percent. She knew him so well. For once she appreciated that her temper never managed to provoke him.
She closed her eyes.
"Look, we have twenty people in our living room right now. Can we please go inside and try to pretend like we're a happily married couple and that I was simply railroaded by an employer that cares more about ratings than the fact that they've screwed with my life?"
When she opened her eyes, Ben was studying her closely, a wistful look on his face that she didn't understand.
"We're not pretending," he said finally.
He opened the door and climbed out. Erin followed suit and trailed him to the back door, wondering if Jarvis was expecting the pissed off phone call he'd be getting from her as soon as their guests left and also wondering if Sherri had managed to convince anybody that Erin had not, in fact, been unfaithful to Ben with that man on the TV screen.
She hoped the rest of them believed her more convincingly than her husband did.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Attitude Adjustment
Date: February 6
Age: 34
Time to 35: 4 months, 1 week, 1 day
List Item: No. 25: Visit Stonehenge
Have you ever heard the phrase "If you want to find yourself, look someplace you've never been?" I don't know. Maybe I made it up. All I know is that right now, it's applicable. The past few weeks have been rocky for me, I won't lie. If you're a regular reader, you've no doubt followed my coverage of the YOLO season, and you probably watched open-mouthed as I danced cheek-to-cheek with a man who wasn't my husband in episode one. There's a good explanation that I can't discuss in detail (per my contract) until the season ends. I offer my heartfelt thanks to the loyal readers and friends who've offered so much support on social media and here on the blog. Your messages of love and encouragement have outnumbered the hate mail by a huge degree, and for that I'm extremely thankful.
In the meantime I'm carrying on with my 35 by 35 list, and the timing of No. 25 couldn't be better. As little as a month ago, I was wondering how on earth I'd make time for an overseas trip in the midst of what's been a crazy winter season. Well, when your employer portrays an alleged affair on
national television and you find yourself suddenly at dead center of a paparazzi bull's-eye, all I can say is it's a good time for a vacation. Not exactly the type of serendipity I'd have asked for, but at least there's a silver lining!
And so, on to the bucket list. My best friend, Sherri, and I visited Stonehenge on Tuesday, two days ago, and it was an incredible experience. I've never been to England before, but of course I knew its reputation for rainy, foggy weather. Surprisingly we've had mostly sunshine during our time in London, but on the day of our coach trip to Wiltshire, the weather didn't disappoint. A foggy mist clung to the ancient stones, adding to the mystery and majesty of the site.
The best part of Stonehenge is that it truly is remote. It's a grassy field in the middle of rolling countryside. You know how sometimes when you visit a famous tourist attraction, it's disappointing in real life? For instance, the Mona Lisa. I'd heard it was small, so that wasn't a disappointment. What I didn't expect was the thick crowd hovering around the painting that never seemed to clear. We couldn't get close to it for more than a few seconds or really even see it. It was difficult to appreciate its beauty or mystery with throngs of people pressed in on all sides more concerned about capturing selfie proof that they were there than contemplating the actual painting.
I digress simply to say that Stonehenge was nothing like that. Sure, there were tour buses parked nearby at the English Heritage center, and by no means were Sherri and I alone while we explored. But Stonehenge is remote, and real, and there's something about it that's solid in the most comforting of ways. It's like you can feel how we're all connected, all humans, throughout time and ancient history. The wonder of the stones is real, and it's more awe-inspiring in person than any explanation in a book. How did it get there? Why was this site so vital that unknown people spanning generations went to the trouble to transport these giant boulders from so far away and place them in impossible, impossibly precise positions? All I know is that seeing it—touching it, learning about it, wandering in and through the stones—made me realize how small we are, how small our problems are in the great scheme of the workings of the universe, and it's exactly the lesson I needed to relearn right now.
Despite what you see in coming weeks on the show, know that it's TV, not real life. I'm fine. My marriage is fine, and I'll explain more when I can. My bucket list challenge is still in place, and my 35 by 35 list isn't going anywhere. Thank you again, so much, for all of your support.
Erin typed the last sentence and then pressed her forehead into her hand. The post was true except for one line. Her marriage wasn't fine, not exactly and completely. If it was "fine," she'd be at home working right now, returning calls to talk shows that wanted to have her on to discuss the show instead of escaping paparazzi on a hastily booked international trip. If it was fine, she wouldn't be cringing in anticipation of the next blow YOLO would inflict to her reputation.
If it was fine, Ben would be wherever she was, not spending all his time in Florida with the woman who'd thrown herself at him in the worst way possible. Actually, Erin wasn't sure that Melody was in Fort Myers with the rest of the team. Ben hadn't told her as much, but she had a strong feeling it was the case.
Would he tell her if Melody tried something else? With everything they'd gone through in recent weeks, she wasn't sure. What she worried about most was how the show—how her "alleged infidelity," the term her lawyer had advised her to use to deny the affair without violating the nondisclosure agreement in her contract—would affect Melody's boldness. Did Melody now feel justified in coming on to a married man? Did she sense her opening? After all, if Ben's wife were cheating on him, wouldn't he be more likely to cheat on her for revenge?
Erin knew Ben didn't want Melody. She knew he loved her and only her. But she also knew his trust in her was eroded, even if it was to a tiny degree and even if he denied it. He claimed to believe Erin's explanation of what had happened at the dance lesson, but she knew all too well the doubts that lingered in the details.
He wasn't there, so he could never be certain Erin was telling him the full truth. The same way she could never fully know the details of what happened between him and Melody.
On the surface they were fine. They certainly weren't "separated" in the marital sense, though physically she'd never felt farther from him. Since the show had aired they'd spent less than a week living in the same place. He'd gone back to Florida two days after the premiere and was still there. She'd grown tired of spending all her time worrying—about Ben and Melody, about the hateful backlash she'd been getting through social media, about the YOLO episodes yet to come. The most recent blow was learning that she'd lost her Glamour column. Her editor, Yvonne, claimed it was because of a redesign. But Erin wasn't under contract, and she knew the real reason they'd dumped her—her reputation and credibility were damaged. She wasn't what she claimed to be. How could they continue to feature a lifestyle expert with a messed up life?
Where she was under contract, she'd realized during a grim conversation with Jarvis, was with the show. When she'd signed up to join YOLO as a cast member, her contract included an indemnity clause that cleared the show of liability for any damage to a cast member's reputation. Not only had she offered herself up as a public figure, impinging on her own right to privacy, but she'd also agreed in writing to essentially let the show do whatever it wanted with her footage. She'd signed the contract willingly, never in a million years imagining her fellow crew members would throw her under the bus like this for ratings.
The most infuriating part was that Jarvis seemed to think Erin had signed off on the story line, that giving Leo goo-goo eyes to add more drama to the segment had been her idea. The first thing he'd said when she called was, "You are brilliant. That twist was absolutely brilliant, darling. Viewers are going crazy! Have you seen Twitter? Bravo!"
She hadn't seen Twitter, and she hadn't realized until that moment that her family's outlook on what had or hadn't happened between her and Leo was the smallest of her worries. Her speechlessness had lasted all of three seconds, and then she'd lit into Jarvis to the point that he couldn't get a word in edgewise, despite his constant attempts to interrupt—probably the first time that had happened to him since he'd landed the word "executive" in his title. Then at the end of her rant, he'd given her the not-so-subtle reminder of her contract.
And even Erin had to admit that the mini scandal that erupted had been good for ratings. Reality TV bloggers had buzzed about Erin nonstop for the last four weeks. She had even been stalked by paparazzi—low-rent photographers looking to cash in on a minor celebrity scandal in the heat of a hit show's moment.
Hence, now, she was in England. She'd worried how she could possibly get away to complete this item on her list, and fate had responded by making it a welcome escape. The big lesson here was Be careful what you wish for.
Ben, of course, wasn't able to take off work. But Sherri was happy to go, and the silver lining was that Erin was getting to travel again with her BFF. Feeling happy right now almost felt like an indulgence, but she was determined to make the best of things—and they actually were having a good time.
They'd spent most of the trip so far in London, but today they were in Bath. Their bed and breakfast had "Paradise" in the name, an apt description. The hillside house had an incredible back garden that overlooked the town, and that morning they'd had the best meal of their trip—a full English breakfast with enough calories on one plate to sustain them until evening tea. They had one more day to explore before taking a train back to London and heading to Heathrow to fly back home.
"Do you want to do one of those hop-on, hop-off bus tours, or would you rather just walk around?" Sherri asked, interrupting Erin's brooding over her blog post.
"Let's do the bus tour," Erin said, forcing herself to perk up. Sherri wasn't on this trip to escape bad press like Erin was. She didn't want to drag her friend down.
"That's what I was leaning toward, too," Sherri said happily. "That way we can b
e sure to hit everything—the Jane Austen museum, Pulteney Bridge, the Royal Crescent—before we do the baths." She tossed her phone onto the frilly four-poster bed and walked to the window, pushing back a sheer curtain to reveal thin rays of dappled sunlight spreading out over the hillside, beyond which Bath's splendid, monochromatic, blond stone structures rose out of an undulating valley.
"That sounds fun." Erin kept her voice carefully upbeat. Even though the day stretched out in front of them, the prospect of traveling home tomorrow had put her in a subdued mood.
As she'd explained to Ben before she bought the tickets, it wasn't that she was running away from her problems, just taking a break from them. A longer break would have been even nicer, but Sherri had to get back to work. She needed to preserve as much PTO as possible since she'd be taking a maternity leave in roughly twenty-eight weeks.
Sherri had planned to tell Erin about her pregnancy the night of the premiere, but considering what had happened at the party, she'd saved the news for the next day before she and Alex drove home.
Erin hadn't wrapped her mind around the concept of Sherri as a mother yet. Not that she wouldn't make a fantastic mom—she would. It was more that it seemed like a final concession to adulthood. There'd be no more spontaneous visits, no more overseas adventures…probably until they both retired.
Plus it reminded Erin of her own baby plans, her final list item. She'd always imagined she'd one day have kids, and she knew Ben wanted kids, and now that she was in her mid-thirties, she knew it was time to have kids—that's why it was on her list. She'd assumed that when the time came she'd feel ready, but she still didn't feel old enough or responsible enough to become a parent. That alone was depressing. That here she was, thirty-four years old, on what she'd thought was a good, stable, well-thought-out path, finally, and now once again, her life was a mess, motherhood looking as likely as priesthood at this point.
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