Saved by the Celebutante (16 page)

EIGHTEEN

We pull up out the front of Brad’s, and my anxiety levels skyrocket. Will’s truck isn’t there, but the lights are on, so someone must be home. I was kind of hoping I could sneak in and out without anyone knowing.

“Do you need me to come in for moral support?” Gia asks.

“No, no. If you don’t mind waiting, I shouldn’t be too long.”

“Sure. I have a few emails to respond to anyway.”

I let myself in, almost feeling like an intruder. I see Brad watching the TV alone in the living room.

“Hello?” I say quietly.

He turns towards me and his face lights up. “Chrissie! Hey! I was worried you’d run away and I was never going to see you again. I’m so glad you’re back!”

“Even after what I said last night?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. You probably did me a favor. Becky finally realized she had to be cool with me having other female friends if she wanted to stay.”

“So what happened?”

“She left.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I was just so frustrated…”

“Hey, it’s fine. Your reaction was totally justified. I know we talked about not being exclusive, but its another thing altogether to have it rubbed in your face.”

“I should have known better than to get involved with someone I lived with. So let’s both of us just chalk it up to a silly mistake.”

He grins cheekily. “I wouldn’t go that far. But yes, maybe in future I need to be more mindful of the situation. Anyway, I was going to call you tomorrow and see how you were. But you’re here!”

“I’m afraid not for long, though. Gia and I are going away for a few days.”

“Oh, cool. Where are you going?”

“We found out Peter Carson is staying at a place in Carmel so we’re going to try and track him down. I…um…kind of lost his phone number.”

Understanding flashes in his eyes. “Ah. When are you leaving?”

“Now. It was sort of a spontaneous decision. I’m just going to go and get some of my stuff.”

“No problem. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

I stand in front of my open closet. I’m not really sure what to pack, so I choose a couple of pairs of yoga pants and tank tops. It’s highly likely we’ll be driving half the night and then turning around tomorrow after we talk to Peter, so I’ll just need comfortable stuff for the car. And seeing as we’re going to a retreat, I want to at least look the part while we’re there.

I lug my suitcase back out to the living room. Brad stands up.

“Let me help you with that.”

“No, it’s fine…”

“I insist.”

He carries it outside and down the steps. Gia pops the trunk so he can load it in. I face Brad.

“I shouldn’t be gone for long, but you may have heard that Will knows I work for Gia now, so I’m probably best off finding somewhere else to live when I get back.”

“I’ll keep your room free just in case,” he promises. “My Hawaii savings are on track, so I’m not in a hurry to find anyone else.”

“Thanks, roomie,” I say affectionately.

His face turns serious. My cheeks heat up.

“You deserve someone awesome, Chrissie. I’m not sure I’m what you’re looking for, but please know that I think you are one of the coolest chicks I’ve ever met and I’ll be here anytime you need me.”

“Aw, Brad…”

I can’t finish talking because he’s suddenly kissing me. And somehow, it feels right. Not in a relationship-y kind of way…more just in a two friends saying goodbye kind of way.

He walks backwards towards the house, his hand on his chest as if it pains him to see me leave.

“I’ll see you soon.”

I close the trunk and then jump in the car, waving out the window.

“See ya, Brad. Thanks for everything.”

We pull away and Gia accelerates off down the road.

She looks at me for a second, even though she should be watching where she’s going. “Please tell me why you’re depressed when you have someone like
that
to make out with?”

I laugh. “He’s ten years younger than me and a commitment-phobe.”

“Ah. Well, it won’t be long, sweetie. You’ll get your happily ever after soon.”

I hope so. I really do.

***

It feels like forever before we reach the outskirts of the city, but we’re soon on the freeway, heading south. Just as we’re passing through Palo Alto, my phone rings.

“Hi, it’s Barb from City Realty! Sorry to call so late.”

“Oh, that’s fine! Have you got another buyer for me?” I joke.

“Actually, the same ones. They’re offering an additional ten thousand because they love the place so much.”

“Oh, wow. Okay. So we’ll come out ahead then?”

“Yes, of course, dear. You would have already. Their first bid was twenty more than what you were hoping for!”

I furrow my brow.

“Sorry, I’m confused. What?”

“Ah. I knew I shouldn’t have relied on Mr. Lambert to pass on the message. Luke and Molly put in an offer right after they saw the place, but your husband said you weren’t interested for that price.”

I feel my blood starting to boil. “Did he now?” What was Corey playing at? Did he deliberately ignore me? Or did he really think it was worth holding out for more?

“But I suppose it worked in your favor, because they’ve come back with a counter offer, and I recommend you take it.”

“We will,” I say firmly. “I’m sorry for the lack of communication between Corey and me. I’m actually on my way out of town for a day or two, but if you don’t mind drawing up the paperwork, I’ll make sure Corey signs the contract.”

“Great! Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. I’ll be in touch when everything’s confirmed.”

“Thank you. And if you need anything, you have my details.”

“I do. Thanks, Chrissie.”

I hang up, seething.

“Everything all right?” Gia asks. I must be muttering to myself because she sounds concerned.

“Just a minute.” I call Corey’s number. I am positively livid. Sure, we’re now going to come out with an additional five grand each, but it was a pretty risky move. And greedy. We already would have got way more than we wanted.

It goes to voicemail. Naturally.

I leave a brief but cutting message, telling him if he doesn’t agree to the deal within a week, I’m going to get my lawyer involved. I’m sick of him being so damn flaky and secretive.

When I hang up, I try to mentally shake off the tension.

It’s been a rough few months and everything that could go wrong kind of has. But if I continue keeping a mental tally of all the negative stuff, I’m never going to recover.

I try to draw strength from Gia’s positive attitude. As we speak, she is humming along to a song on the radio and driving with a blissful smile on her face.

Channel Gia.

I’m starting over. From now.

NINETEEN

It’s a four-hour drive to the center. Gia calls ahead to book us in, explaining that we were unable to make the start of the latest intake, but letting them know we’re still happy to pay full price. Luckily they are able to accommodate us. I don’t know what we would have done otherwise.

If we had more time, I would suggest Gia take the road through Santa Cruz and Monterey because I love that part of the coast, but it’s already going to be after ten by the time we arrive.

Gia and I don’t talk much. She’s good that way, knowing exactly when to give me space and when to get involved. Instead, we listen to music, alternating playlists on our phones. I’m in a bit of a Janis Joplin and Radiohead mood. Gia intersperses this with annoying one hit wonders like “The Macarena” and “Mambo No. 5”. I know she’s kind of doing it on purpose to counteract my negativity, but I would prefer she went for something a little less irritating.

The last hour of the journey is slow going as we crawl down a gravelly dirt road. There are no streetlights or guard rails the entire way, and I find myself tightly gripping the handle above the car door, trying not to focus on the dark valley beside us.

“Do you think this is safe?” I ask Gia nervously.

“It’s fine. You’re just anxious because of all the stuff that’s been going on in your life lately.” She waves an arm around to illustrate her point.

I shudder. “I’d feel better if you kept both hands on the wheel.”

She laughs. “Stop worrying. I am an awesome driver. I haven’t had a crash since I was a teenager.”

Perhaps I really am just feeling nervous in a post-traumatic stress kind of way. I don’t even know what normal is anymore.

Finally we reach a big wooden arch with a welcome sign hanging overheard. Gia parks the car off to the side and we jump out, following a small, lit-up walkway to the reception office.

A monk – who looks like he’s come straight from Tibet – sits inside. He smiles when he sees us approaching.

“Ah. You must be Gia and Chrissie. I trust your trip went smoothly?”

I let Gia take charge. I don’t want to say anything that might contradict any pre-fabricated story she may have come up with.

“Yes, it was fine. Thank you for accommodating us at such short notice.”

“No problem. Your room is all set up and ready. Please be mindful of the other guests as you move around. Many of them are already sleeping. The wake-up bell will ring just before four, and we have our first zazen session at four-twenty. Will we see you there?”

“Of course. Thank you again.”

He smiles, eyes crinkling. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

He passes us a hand-drawn map with directions to our room. We go back to the car and retrieve our bags to take down to a small bungalow. I feel like I’ve been transported to the middle of Asia. The front door is made of paper, and tatami matting covers the floor inside. The chairs don’t have legs, and the beds are low-lying futons. A big round window on one wall looks out to the surrounding forest.

Gia dumps her bag in the corner of the room and then proceeds to make two cups of tea using a hot water dispenser sitting on a nearby table.

She hands one to me and sighs. “Isn’t this location darling?”

“Yeah, I can see why Peter Carson likes it here.”

We sip our tea quietly for a moment.

“Have you thought through a plan of some sort?” I ask.

“Not really,” she admits. “I just assumed we’d run into Peter during a meditation session and corner him whenever we had the chance.”

“I wonder which bungalow he’s in? Maybe we should do a bit of reconnaissance.”

“We might leave that as a last resort. We don’t want to get thrown out for snooping around. I’m sure he’ll be around somewhere. We’ll find him in the morning and then head back to San Francisco after that. How are you feeling anyway?”

“Pretty messed up, but I suppose I couldn’t pick a better place to spend the night.”

“I stayed somewhere like this in Japan once. It was amazing.”

“Do you believe in all that meditation stuff?”

“Believe in it? Yes, of course. Meditation isn’t some mysterious new-age magic. It’s just about calming your thoughts.”

“Oh.” I guess I never really thought about what it entailed. I suppose I’ll find out in the morning.

We change into our PJs and brush our teeth. The futons are single sized and spaced a few feet apart, making it feel like we’re about to have a sleepover. Gia lies down on her side and faces me.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” I say.

“Sure.”

“Have you dated since Jack?”

She frowns. “No. I’m too busy with the kids and work to worry about romance.”

“Are you afraid you’re going to get hurt again?”

“Not really. I don’t feel like you should take the negativity from a previous relationship into the next one, and I never really understood those who do. I’m just not ready for anyone else yet.”

I contemplate this. Corey and I haven’t been split up for very long, but I’m not sure I will ever forget this feeling of betrayal. How can you
not
take some of that hurt into future relationships?

“Do you ever talk to Jack?”

“Not really. But that’s more because of him, not me. I’d be happy for him to take more of an active role in the children’s lives. I kind of miss him too, in a weird way. I know he didn’t treat me right, but he
is
the father of my kids, and we did have some good times. I hope maybe one day we can be friends again.”

She gets up and switches off the light, so I lie back and close my eyes. It is dark and quiet, and all I hear is the sound of our breathing.

I hope I can eventually be as forgiving and optimistic as Gia is.

***

Three-fifty is a ridiculous time to wake up. It really is still the middle of the night.

A gong shakes me from a deep sleep and it takes a minute to get my bearings. My back is stiff from the futon. I know futons are supposed to be good for you, but give me a pillow-topped mattress any day.

Gia springs up. “Morning!” she chirps.

“Oh my God, what is wrong with you? How can you be so alert?”

“I have triplets, remember? Five hours of sleep is a luxury! I’m normally up at least two or three times every night with one of the kids needing to use the bathroom or wanting an extra blanket.”

I have never really thought about the impact children might have on my sleeping patterns. I need eight hours every night or I’m a mess. How would I handle being a mom?

“Even at three years old?” I ask.

“Yep. And I have friends who say their kids are still waking them up when they’re five and six. Seriously, you need to mentally prepare to never have a good night’s sleep again once you get pregnant.”

Hmm. I’m not sure I like the sound of that at all.

I change into some loose white pants and a white tank top. Gia wears a similar outfit, but in pink and slate gray.

We follow a few of the other guests down the path to a softly lit hall. Inside, cushions are laid out in neat rows. Several of them are already taken, but none by Peter Carson.

“Should we sit at the back?” I whisper. “That way we can see when Peter arrives.”

“Good idea,” she whispers back.

Seeing as I’ve never meditated, I watch as Gia sits cross-legged and presses her thumb and middle finger together on each hand, resting them on her knees.

I do the same, feeling very self-conscious, despite everyone else having their eyes closed. I close one eye, surreptitiously squinting through the other to keep a look out for Peter.

New-age music plays softly in the background. I’m surprised to find I don’t mind it, and somehow drift away into a little zone of calm.

Why was I so worked up yesterday? I mean, I know my life is pretty crappy at the moment, but somehow the physical distance from San Francisco and the zen-like environment of this center has created a buffer of sorts. It’s almost as if all that stuff happened to someone else a long time ago.

I steal a glance at Gia. She’s sitting perfectly still, looking like Buddha. If Buddha was a large-breasted blond woman. For some reason, the thought makes me want to break out into hysterical laughter. I cover my mouth and snort. Oops.

I’ve never been sure what the end goal of meditation actually is. Is it just to relax? Or to empty your mind of all thoughts? How is that possible? If I’m thinking
no thoughts, no thoughts
, aren’t I still having thoughts?

Maybe the idea is to focus on a problem and mentally work through it to a satisfying conclusion.

So for example, how I’m feeling about Corey. Obviously just the idea of him evokes a lot of anxiety. And a lot of anger. Also a lot of sadness. It makes me feel like I’ve never really had a guy on my side. I know Penny is always there for me, and Gia has been amazing these past few months, but now that I think about it, even Dad has never really seemed to care that much about me.

I feel a tear roll down my face. I’m not sure that’s supposed to happen during meditation.

I might try some deep breathing instead.

Inhale…exhale…inhale…exhale.

That’s better. I’ll just stick with this for the rest of the session.

Inhale…

Damn it, Corey! Get out of my brain!

Okay, good. Exhale…

Now Will is in there.
Fuck off, Will
. Why is it that once you latch onto a negative thought, all the other thoughts that make you feel bad seem to shoot into your brain as if attracted by a magnet?

I sigh. A bit too loudly. Gia gives me a funny look.

The other practitioners seem very dedicated. There’s not a single movement or peep amongst the lot of them.

Jeez, now my butt has fallen asleep. And my head feels itchy. Are you allowed to scratch? I remember watching a ninja movie once where the master came around and hit people with a cane if they fidgeted. Surely they wouldn’t have anything like that here, would they? It’d be a violation of human rights.

And here I am thinking again.

STOP THINKING, CHRISSIE!

I mentally count sheep. I see them jumping over an imaginary fence in an endless loop.

I could really use a few extra hours’ sleep. Is it possible to sleep while sitting in this position?

After what seems like much longer than an hour, another gong chimes and everyone starts stretching out their legs.

I open my eyes properly and look around.

Still no Peter.

Maybe he slept in. I guess it’s possible that important people like Hollywood directors have a different schedule to everyone else.

Gia is staring at me.

“What?” I ask defensively.

“Could you have been any noisier during that session?”

“What do you mean? I thought I did well.”

Yes, I know I’m lying, but I thought I at least did a good job of hiding my inner turmoil.

She raises an eyebrow. “You were laughing, snorting and fidgeting. It was like watching one of my kids at a birthday party when they stop the song during Musical Statues.”

I poke out my tongue. I don’t have to prove how mature I am.

“You’re worse than the triplets. Anyway, we’ll go grab breakfast and if we don’t see Peter there, we might have to do a bit of asking around to find out what’s going on.”

I nod and follow her into a communal dining room filled with more of those legless chairs set up around coffee tables. Each setting has a bento tray filled with rice, vegetables, an omelet and tofu.

A server comes around with a teapot and pours us a small cup of green tea.

I observe as Gia eats her rice with chopsticks. “You look like you belong here,” I say.

“Yeah, I could easily go back to Japan, but I haven’t had the chance since I met Jack. He hated all this kind of stuff.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess he thought it was a bunch of hippie nonsense or something. Much like how I think you feel,” she teases. “But he had a lot of anger he refused to deal with. I think a stint at a retreat would do him the world of good. Maybe one of those Vipassana ones where you’re not allowed to talk for ten days.”

“I don’t think I could handle a Vipassana retreat.”

“I’m going to have to agree with you on that one, judging by your pitiful attempt at meditation just now.” She pokes me in the side.

“Now I feel like I need to do one to prove you wrong.” I pout. “Anyway, maybe you can tell me. What are you actually supposed to do when you meditate? Is the aim to completely clear your mind? Because I feel like that’s kind of impossible.”

She nibbles on a piece of tofu. “I guess in the long term. But most people have too much stuff going on in their heads to achieve that right away. In the beginning, it’s helpful to just let your thoughts drift by without getting emotionally attached to them. So say if I had a frustrating thought about Jack, I would just go ‘oh, there’s that same old thought about Jack screwing me over. I’ll just watch as it enters my head and leaves again.’”