Balancing Acts (28 page)

As she waited for the food to arrive, she lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. This Zach wrinkle was a bummer, no doubt about it, but in a way, she was strangely relieved by the fact that it was over before it started. If he was truly all those wonderful things that she wanted him to be, she would have had no choice but to fall in love with him. And then her entire life would be flipped around. Everything would change. She would no longer be the top priority. She would have to share things, like her rotisserie chicken.

“I don't think I'm ready for that quite yet,” she mumbled into Lassie's fur. Or maybe she was, and was telling herself these things to avoid getting hurt, to avoid taking a risk. Risks were not her forte. She stared at the ceiling, bored by the subject already.

Her buzzer rang suddenly—piercing through her melodrama like a fog horn. She jumped off the couch in a ravenous burst of energy.

Later she would return to her favorite subject—her—but now she would eat.

I
t was 8:30
AM
and Bess was on her fourth cup of coffee. She had been up since five. All weekend she had been working on the article and now it was Monday morning. She had been writing nonstop, and enjoying every minute of it. She liked the succinctness of it, and the way that—just like yoga—each paragraph flowed directly into the next without any jarring starts and stops. She had now read it over four times and was confident that it was the best thing she had ever written.

The problem now was the question of whether or not to tell Sabine, Naomi, and Charlie about it before it came out. She had wondered about the possibility that she might be violating some gigantic journalistic code of ethics, but a call to one of her fact-checking friends had confirmed otherwise. She was all set on that front, but there were so many pros and cons to the dilemma. She knew her article painted them in a lovely light—so the surprise would most likely be a nice one for them—but on the other hand, she had been scheming to write this all along without any of their knowledge. They could end up feeling victimized and resentful. After all, they were her friends now. She didn't want to offend them—or shock them. It was a serious crap shoot.

Bess put down the cup of coffee. The caffeine had her heart pumping overtime. She held up her hand and watched it shake without her consent.
Time to eat something.
She walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, only to discover a can of diet soda and a dead head of lettuce.
Nice,
she thought, tossing the lettuce in the garbage.

“Okay, I'll go out for a bagel,” she announced. She hoped that she wouldn't have to deal with any awkward run-ins with anyone from work. She had called in sick to finish her article. Bess looked in the mirror. She looked like a corpse. “Well, at least I don't have to worry about being busted,” she mumbled. Anyone she ran into would have no problem believing she was ill.

She sat down on the couch, suddenly exhausted by the idea of getting dressed and going out. This was when she wished she had a personal assistant like the idiots she wrote about. She would communicate with her via hand signals. No, make that him. She wanted a young guy that she could boss around. Girls gave too much lip. Two fingers would mean a toasted pumpernickel bagel with low-fat veggie cream cheese. Three would mean “Add a tomato but make sure it's not mealy!”

She looked at her phone, suddenly missing Dan violently. He was just the person to ask about her tell/not tell conundrum. She decided to call him, despite the early California hour.

“Hello?” grumbled Dan's sleepy voice into the phone.

“Hiiii,” Bess whispered. “Rise and shiiiiiiiiiine!”

“Bess, Jesus, it's 6
AM
here. Is everything okay?” Dan's voice was thick with both annoyance and concern.

“I know it's early. I'm sorry, but I really needed to hear your voice.”

“It's okay,” answered Dan, his tone warming. “Here I am.”

“And also ask you a teeny tiny question,” added Bess.

“Let me guess: it's about the article.”

“Why, however did you know that?” Bess had been yapping Dan's ear off about the article since she had left LA.

“Go ahead.”

“Listen, should I tell them?” asked Bess. “Should I let Charlie, Sabine, and Naomi know about this article? Or should I just let it be a surprise?”

“Wait, I thought we agreed that you don't need to tell them first. I mean, it's a wonderful article—kind of like a tribute to them, really. I don't see why they would be upset.”

“Well, yeah, the last time we spoke about it, we agreed to let it be a surprise,” replied Bess. “But now I'm having second thoughts. What if they feel ambushed and they hate me?”

“Why would they feel ambushed?” asked Dan, genuinely baffled. “I've read the article around seventeen thousand times, Bess. It is a really positive piece. Anyone would be honored to be depicted in such a way.”

“Wait, are you saying that it's a puff piece?”

“Bess, Jesus, no!”

“Dan, what's the matter?”

“To be honest, I'm a little bit over this damn article. It's all we ever talk about. I don't know how many times I can reassure you that it's an excellent piece. I mean, enough already.”

Bess was silent for a minute, considering his point. He was right, that was all they talked about. “You're right, Dan. I'm sorry I'm being such a freak show. It's just that your opinion means so much to me—”

“I know, Bess. I want to be included, I just am a little bit over it at this point. I also don't want you driving yourself mad about it.”

“I think you might be a wee bit too late on that one,” said Bess.

Dan laughed. “Tell me about it. But that's part of why I love you, I guess. You're so passionate about things that really mean something to you.”

“Is
passionate
another word for
crazy
?”

“Maybe, but don't you think it sounds better?”

“Definitely.
Passionate
makes me sound like a bipolar Mediterranean beauty that welds intricate sculptures out of steel.”

“That's rich,” said Dan, really laughing now. “I like that visual.”

“So, Dan? You really think I should let it be a surprise? You don't think Charlie, Naomi, and Sabine will feel like they were taken advantage of?”

“I really don't. Even if they're a little bit taken aback at first, I think that discomfort will quickly give way to warm fuzzies.”

Bess exhaled deeply. “You give me warm fuzzies.”

“I know something else warm and fuzzy I can give y—”

“Ewwww, Dan!” teased Bess, happy to be laughing with him. “Dan, seriously, I'm sorry I've been such a maniac. I'm going to turn it in today, and I promise I won't mention it again until Saturday, when it comes out and ruins my friendships with these three amazing women.”

“Bess! I am telling you—nothing will be ruined. It's a wonderful piece and a testament to their strength and complexity. Plus, it's in
The New York
freakin'
Times
, man!”

“Damn right it is! You can't hate on the
Times
.”

“No, you cannot,” agreed Dan. He yawned.

“Okay, I'll let you go back to sleep. Dan, I love you. Thank you for putting up with me.”

“I love you, too, Bess. Now, turn in that damn article and get some sleep yourself.”

“I will. Bye, Dan.”

“Bye, Bess.”

She hung up and composed a note to Kathryn. Before attaching her piece, she paused for a moment, visualizing everyone's reaction on Saturday. She put herself in Sabine's, Charlie's, and Naomi's shoes and imagined someone writing in the same tone about her without her permission. Would she be okay with the result?

I would,
she thought.
I really would.

She attached the article and pressed
SEND
. The deed was done. Now it was time for that bagel.

S
abine clomped up the subway stairs after work on Monday evening, breaking a slight sweat in her heavy jacket. She was excited to finish the website copy. It was no novel, but at least it was some sort of writing.

As she rounded the corner to her apartment, she considered the tone she had decided to take. She obviously couldn't rely on her humor—yoga was many things but funny was not one of them. She also hadn't wanted to veer too far in a spiritual direction. A little was good, but nothing too over the top. She had ended up somewhere in the middle, and hoped she had Prana's vibe correctly. When she sat down to write on Sunday morning, she had tried to remember how she had felt, walking into the studio as a virtual yoga virgin just five weeks ago. Although she had been intimidated by the idea of yoga, the studio itself—along with Charlie, Felicity, and Julian—had really eased her anxiety. It had been important to Sabine to translate the nonjudgmental attitudes of all of them in her copy. She was pretty sure she had done it. At least she hoped she had. She would go over it again tonight and edit with a fresh eye.

Deep in thought, she realized she had come to her stoop. She searched in her seemingly bottomless bag for her keys, cursing its lack of pockets.

“Hey,” she heard. She looked up, confused. Was someone talking to her? There, at the top of her steps, in all of his handsome glory, was Zach.

“Whoa!” she exclaimed. “Hey!” She paused for a moment, momentarily frozen in place by the shock of seeing him there. “What. . .what are you doing here?” she asked.

“I'm stalking you,” Zach replied, flashing a toothy grin.

“Oh, that's comforting,” Sabine replied.

“No, I'm not, I promise,” he said. “I came by to see if you wanted to grab a drink or something. I rang your doorbell and no one answered. Then I called your cell phone and it went straight to voice mail. I had a feeling you might be on the train, so I figured I'd wait a bit.”

“What if I was upstairs with a guy?” asked Sabine, climbing the stairs to sit beside him. “And I never came down? Or what if I came down with him?”

“That was a chance I was willing to take. Better to know what your deal was than not to know at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“You never called me back. And I called you twice. What happened to that date we were supposed to go on?” He looked her in the eyes, earnestly.

Wow,
thought Sabine, her resolve turning to goo.
No, Sabine! Don't get lost in his raisin jewels and forget about Blondie!

“Oh, uh. . .sorry. I've been busy and. . .” Sabine paused mid-sentence. She could either play it cool and lie about her reasons for avoiding him or take a chance and tell him the truth. If she told him the truth, she would be putting herself out there. She thought about what Charlie had spoken about in class on Saturday and went for it.

“Actually no, wait. That's not true. I haven't been that busy. I'm confused.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Sabine took a deep breath before continuing. “That whole ‘no sex' thing the last time we hung out. It really messed with my head.”

“I thought I explained myself about the sex. You told me you understood, but I guess that's not the case.”

“I know you said you didn't want to have it because you liked me, but it ended up making me feel like you didn't
want
me.”

They sat in silence for a minute, listening to the birds chirp excitedly about spring's imminent arrival.

“And then something else happened,” offered Sabine.

“What?” asked Zach, a look of concern clouding his raisin jewels. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I'm fine,” answered Sabine, resisting the urge to pat his hand. Any physical contact at this point was a bad idea. “I saw you with another chick,” she blurted out.

“You did?! When? Where?”

“Walking down the street together last Saturday morning, when I was coming home from yoga,” said Sabine. “I only saw the back of you, but I dunno. . .it looked suspicious.”

Zach put his head in his hands and exhaled. “Yeah, that was me.”

“Had she stayed over the night before?” she asked, her voice shaky with sadness. She had so wished that Zach would either deny it had been him or tell her that it was his cousin. His response to her question indicated that that, unfortunately, was not the case. “I mean, we don't even know each other, so I realize that it's silly of me to feel any sort of rightful claim on your love life whatsoever. But it made me sad, seeing you like that. And then angry. So when you called, I figured I would get out now, before I got hurt. It seemed easier to ignore you.”

“Let me explain,” said Zach. “That was not a morning-after situation, that I swear to. Okay?”

“Okay,” answered Sabine.

“But I was with my ex-girlfriend and we were going to brunch,” he continued.

“Please don't tell me you're ‘on a break,'” she whimpered. She needed another one of those like she needed a hole in her head.

“I'm not. We are broken up. It's over and it has been for a few months now.”

“Then why are you going to brunch together?” Sabine was a firm believer in the fact that old lovers could not, in fact, be friends. It was impossible, in her book. Someone always had an agenda.

“She's having a tough time with it,” he explained. “And I don't mean to sound like some narcissistic asshole. I don't think it's about me at all, really, I just think she has trouble being single.”

“Oh, she's one of those?”

“One of what?” asked Zach, annoyed by Sabine's assumption.

“Sorry, I don't mean anything by it. I just mean that I know women like that. Women who have trouble being alone. I'm not. . .I'm not one of those women.”

“I know,” said Zach. “That's one of the reasons I dig you so much.”

Sabine turned to him and smiled. “You dig me?”

“I do.”

“Is she going to be a part of your life indefinitely?” asked Sabine.

“No,” answered Zach firmly. “You're the first girl I've really liked since we broke up, hence my wanting to wait to sleep with you. Even though I want to. . .badly. It's all I can think about most days.” Sabine blushed.
That's more like it.
“I asked her to brunch so I could tell her about you.”

“You did?”

“Yep. She didn't take the news so well.”

“I'm sorry this is so complicated for you,” said Sabine, giving into her impulse and grabbing his hand.

“Hey, life is complicated,” said Zach, squeezing her hand in return. “I promise that's the whole truth and nothing but.”

“Your story wasn't the one I was expecting to hear, but it makes me feel exponentially better. Thanks for being so honest with me.”

“You're welcome. Sorry I stalked you.”

Sabine laughed. “That's okay. Sorry I ignored you.”

“Yeah, what's up with that?” asked Zach, moving closer. “You're cold as ice!”

“Hardly.” Sabine moved in closer to him, and suddenly they were kissing. A long, beautiful, soft, sweet but not too sweet, just the right kind of kiss.

“You look beautiful,” said Zach. “I missed your face.”

“Yeah, right. Aren't the bags under my eyes gorgeous?”

“No bags,” said Zach, touching her cheek. “How was class on Saturday, by the way?”

“It was great. The women in my class are really excellent people. They make me proud of my gender.”

“Wow, that's a really cool thing to say,” said Zach. “I can't remember the last time I was proud of my gender.” He paused to think. “Oh, maybe Obama. He makes me proud to be a black man.”

“But you're not a black man!” shrieked Sabine.

“I'm not?!” asked Zach, feigning surprise. He laughed.

“Listen, I'm working on the copy for the studio website, so I better get going.” A huge part of her wanted to just stay right there, on her stoop snuggling with Zach, but she had to get her work done.

“Studio website?” asked Zach.

“Yeah, one of the women in our class is a web designer, so she's designing a site for them. She asked me to write the copy.”

“Very cool. Okay.” He stood up and grabbed Sabine's hands, pulling her up to face him. “Can I see you soon?”

“Yes,” answered Sabine.

“When?”

“Well, I want to turn the copy in tomorrow. What about tomorrow night?”

“Works for me,” said Zach, pulling her toward him for a hug. “Maybe I'll cook you dinner.”

“That sounds nice,” Sabine murmured into his neck. God, he smelled good.

She loosened her grasp and tilted her chin to kiss him good-bye. “See you soon.”

“Yeah,” said Zach. “Soon. I'll call you tomorrow. I don't want you disappearing again.”

Sabine smiled and waved good-bye.
No need to worry about that,
she thought, as she closed the front door behind her. Safely in her apartment, she retrieved her phone from her bag and scrolled through to the M's.

“Hello?” her mother answered.

“Hi, Mama,” Sabine replied.

“Sabine!” she shrieked. “Where have you been? I thought you were dead.”

“Mom, it's only been two days since we last spoke,” explained Sabine, already exasperated.

“Two days is a long time,” her mother replied. “I thought to myself: well, she's either dead in a ditch somewhere or she's in love. Obviously, you're alive, so I take it you worked things out with the subway Romeo?”

Sabine laughed. “Mom, if you thought I was dead, why didn't you call the police?”

“How do you know I didn't? Okay, okay, I didn't really think you were dead. But I was worried. Don't do that to your mama, okay? I'm old and feeble. I need a check-in.”

“Mom, you're more sprightly than a four-year-old. Feeble, my ass.”

“Well, you do have a point,” her mother admitted. “Did I tell you that I started Rollerblading?”

“You did not! Mom! Jesus! I hope you're wearing a helmet for God's sake.”

“I am, don't get your panties in a wad,” she replied. She lowered her voice. “Honey, my new boyfriend is forty-four! I'm officially a cougar!”

Sabine laughed. “Wow, Mom! That is pretty impressive. Is he your Rollerblading inspiration?”

“You got it. Let me tell you, the sex—”

“Mom! That's okay, I got it,” replied Sabine, cutting her off mid-sentence. It was bad enough to admit that your mother's sex life was more active than your own. Details were unnecessary.

“Fine, be a prude, Sabine. Listen, you never answered my question.”

“What question?”

“Don't be coy, missy. How's the Subway Crush? Is he worthy of the most beautiful, funniest, smartest, most sophisticated woman in the world?”

“And who is that?” asked Sabine, grinning into the phone.

“You, my bean,” she replied. “You know I worship you.”

“Thanks, Mom. And yes, he seems worthy. I took some time to think about things and ignored him for a bit. When I came home from work tonight, he was sitting on my stoop. We had a good talk and. . .I think things are going to be okay between us.”

“Oh good! You sound so much better than you did on Saturday. Talk about a sourpuss. Does he still have a job? Is he good in bed?”

“Jesus, Mom, relax with all the questions! He's a really great guy.”

“Oh honey, sorry for all of my nosiness. You know I can't help it, it's in my blood.”

“I am good, Mom.” She briefly considered telling her mother more, but decided against it. She wanted to keep the details to herself. For a while at least.

“Good, honey. You sound happy. I like when you sound happy. What else is going on? How's the writing?”

“I'm actually working on a project right now.” Being able to say that was such a gift, as opposed to her usual noncommittal, vague response. It made her just as happy as talking about Zach.

“That's terrific!” exclaimed her mother. “Tell me about it.”

“You know that yoga class I've been taking?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, one of my classmates is a graphic designer. She's designing the website for the studio, and she asked me to handle the copy.”

“Bean, that's great news! Are you enjoying it?”

“I really am. I'm about three quarters of the way through at this point,” she explained. “I just have to work out some kinks about some hair product descriptions.”

“Hair products? I thought this was a yoga website.”

“It is, but one of the owners creates her own hair products. We're linking to her line.”

“I don't understand all of this web jargon, but it sounds like a great opportunity. I'm so proud of you, Sabine. You're really in charge. Work, writing, a man, a nice dose of self-respect. . .you're juggling all the good stuff.”

“Thanks,” said Sabine, surprising herself by tearing up at her praise.

“I have to go now. Got a dinner cruise date with Ron.”

“Ron? He sounds like a porn star.”

“Maybe he is! Wouldn't that just float your boat!?”

“Moooooom! Gross.”

“I love you so much, Bean. You're my hero.”

“Thanks, Mom. I love you, too. Have fun!” Sabine hung up the phone and gazed out the window, watching the sun set over the city, turning the sky into cotton candy as it inched its way down.