“Well?”
“It was great, I’m gonna buy it for sure.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that, Mia.”
“Is Isabelle you?”
“Oh good lord no, it’s purely fiction. But I suppose all the characters have a little piece of me.”
She was kind and seemed a bit lonely like me, which gave me the urge to tell her my entire life story. I ended with my heartbreak over Will and how he had thrown away a promising future, which led to our breakup. I told her how I missed everything about him, but mostly our friendship, the music, and the way he took care of me. She listened attentively while I tried to explain how my life had been turned upside down. I said I felt like I was drowning in a huge chasm created by some obsession I have with getting things right. She seemed unusually interested in what I was saying, and I wondered if I was providing her with some fodder for the next book. Oh no. That’s not good. My story would certainly be a cautionary tale. I turned the conversation back to her.
She told me how her husband was a writer as well, Pulitzer Prize winning, in fact. She believed that the passion they shared was the ultimate catalyst in the relationship. She didn’t believe opposites attract. She said, “My husband is my soul twin, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Was he a writer when you met him?”
“Aspiring. We met in Atlanta, at a small art house theater where he collected tickets. At the time he was still living with his parents and working on his first book. He picked me up for our first date in the most beat-up Chevy truck I had ever seen. It was the middle of summer and ridiculously humid. His truck didn’t have air-conditioning and the window handle was broken, so he reached over me and rolled my window down with a pair of vise grips. Pretty impressive, huh?”
The story was clearly for my benefit. She wanted me to hear something deeper in the words; it was an anecdote. She understood my dilemma, which gave me the sense I was going through some painful rite of passage she had already experienced.
“How did you know your husband would be successful?”
“I didn’t. I knew I loved him and that meant I trusted him. I was never obsessed with material possessions, but I had the same concerns as you. I eventually realized as my love grew that more than anything, I believed in him, because of his passion and determination. It boils down to one word… faith.”
“Oh no, not that word.”
“Yes, committing yourself to someone requires a leap of faith—that’s why it’s so hard for some. There is no crystal ball, but if you love someone enough and you share a similar dream, then your faith in that person becomes faith in yourself and that’s the best part of sharing your life… you’re better for it. Isabelle in the book is trapped by her own fear and nothing else… no one else. It’s a cautionary tale,” she said, watching my reaction.
I almost choked on my tongue. I pondered her words in silence as I looked on at the exuberant children. When it was time to go, I hugged her and gave her my phone number. I felt like she was sort of a big sister; it was a connection I’d longed for my entire life. I ran home with my newfound determination and called Jenny.
“Jenny, you have to tell me where he is.”
She paused for a long beat. She had been avoiding me and any conversation related to Will; I only saw her at the café, where she was all business. I knew her and Tyler were taking Will’s side in the whole thing, which made me feel even more alone. “I don’t know where he is,” she said.
“Why won’t you talk to me about this?”
“About what?”
“Stop being like that, Jenny. About Will—where is he, I need to talk to him.”
“He doesn’t want to talk to you and I have nothing to say.”
“I need you. I messed up and I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I’d say.”
I started crying. “Please, I’m having a hard time.”
“Okay,” she said quietly. There was long pause. “I’ll be over later. We’ll go out, get some dinner or something.”
“Thank you. I know I’ve been a mess and I’ve made mistakes. I can’t make things right with Will, but I want to with you and Tyler.”
“Okay, Mia, I’ll see you in a little bit.”
I couldn’t understand why Jenny was so mad; it really had nothing to do with her. I was nervous to find out. With my newfound energy I took a little extra time getting ready. I hadn’t had plans in ages and it was nice to look in the mirror and feel somewhat put together. I wore skinny black capris, plain black heels, and a dark blue, low-cut tunic top.
“Why are you so dressed up? We’re just going to Sam’s.”
“I haven’t been out in a long time; I thought maybe we could try that sushi place in Soho?”
At first Jenny’s look was disapproving, but it immediately turned to pity when she saw the hope in my face. “Okay, let’s do it,” she said, reaching out to hug me. It felt so good to be hugged by her. I missed my friend.
Over dinner, I asked her about life and Tyler. Things were going well for them. I told her about Lauren and the book. The restaurant was small and packed, so we sat at the sushi bar and shared quite a spread along with a bottle of sake and a giant beer. Our conversation was interrupted when I recognized familiar words being piped through the speakers. It was Sonja singing Will’s song. I could hear his sexy voice backing her up in certain sections, which created a huge lump in my throat. The song was much more juvenile than the way Will had originally written it, but it suited Sonja. “Wow, it’s on the radio?”