Read What Would Oprah Do Online

Authors: Erin Emerson

What Would Oprah Do (6 page)

BOOK: What Would Oprah Do
2.66Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“I want kids,” Lainey said “and now I’m thirty-six, with a divorce looming. I don’t even want to think about it, but I have to because by the time I’m even ready to start dating again...God, I can’t even imagine being back out there. I thought I was finally done with dating. I’m going to be old, as in ‘get your eggs frozen’ old.”

“That’s not true
.” I said.

“How do you figure?”
Lainey asked. I thought Kay would chime in, but she was waiting for an answer too.

“I don’t know, but these days a lot of people are waiting until later in life to have kids.”

“Yeah, and they’re having six babies at a time because of fertility treatments!” Lainey yelled, her eyes wide enough that she could have given birth through them.

“At least you’re normal,” I said. “When I tell people I don’t want to have kids, they look at me like I don’t like puppies or something. I just can’t get excited about having something that shits its pants.”

Lainey raised her eyebrows. “You used to shit your pants, Missy.”

“And I stopped, thank God.”

Kay looked at me, “Really? Remember when you went on that raw food diet?”

“That doesn’t count. It was an isolated incident.”

We had finished off the wine, so Kay and Lainey went inside to see what our options were from the liquor cabinet.
Lainey’s in-laws had told her that we could help ourselves, but we waited until it was our last resort. They returned shortly with glasses and a pitcher of something remarkably similar to hunch punch. Kay said, “It’s not the best but it’s drinkable.”

I was flipping through O Magazine, and it had pictures of one of her houses in it. “I wish I could go live with Oprah.”

Kay shook her head and made a face I’m all too familiar with which annoys the crap out of me. Our mother could have trademarked it, the knowing look as she shakes her head back and forth. Our mother may have moved two hours away, but she’s alive and well and I don’t need Kay acting like she’s got it all figured out when she’s only three years older than me. “Cate, I do not understand your fascination with that woman.”

“I get it.”
Lainey tried to back me up.

“I’m not fascinated with her. Well, maybe a little bit, but mainly I just like her. She really is a good person. And how often do the good people get to be at the top? Perfect example…all those socialites with reality TV shows, pieces of shit, getting paid to do nothing. If you’ve watched even five minutes of those
shows, you know they’re not good people. Then there’s Oprah who works her ass off and on top of that, tries to make a difference in the world. So every time I see her I get to see the good girl win for a change, and she wins so big!”

“You know she’s not perfect.”
Kay was still making the face.

“The fact that she’s human, that she’s got flaws like the rest of us, that’s exactly
what makes her perfect.”

Lainey piped in like she always does when Kay and I get snippy with each other. “You don’t have to convince me. I feel
ya. I would love to move in with Oprah.”

“She’s got a bunch of houses, and they’re probably so big she wouldn’t even know I was there. If she would let me move in, adopt me for a while, I could have fancy gourmet meals, Bob Greene approved. I’d probably lose weight. I could play with her dogs since my place is too small to get my own dog. I could help with her gardens. I bet every bed has incredible sheets. My life could be filled with her favorite things, like she ha
d on her show every year. Everything would be different. I definitely wouldn’t sit around and cry about how I wasted three-hundred and fifty dollars on a Kitchen Aid mixer that I no longer have a use for, or sit around bundled up in three layers of clothes because I’m worried about the gas bill. I could figure out what to do with my life.”

Kay said, “I hate to point out the obvious…”
I was afraid she was going to rain on the parade in my head and say that Oprah isn’t trying to adopt me, but she didn’t. “If Oprah adopted you, or let you move in with her or whatever, she would probably give you a job too.”

We stayed up too late, drinking too much, and I realized I wasn’t the only one who didn’t want our escape to end. The next morning when we packed the car to leave, I was expecting the return trip to be typical, feeling like it takes so much longer to get home than it does to get somewhere good. To my surprise it went by faster. I thought Kay was just being bossy when she said that I should take what I wanted to find at Oprah’s house and find a way to incorporate it in my own life, but she had some really good points. She said if I wanted to play with dogs, I could volunteer at an animal shelter. While she drove and Lainey slept, I made a list of all the things I would like about living with Oprah. Obviously leaving out the best stuff like actually living with Oprah, the chef prepared meals, and the sweet
-dream inducing fancy sheets, but keeping what I could manage on my own. I didn’t have a plan exactly, but I had a few ideas, which was more than I had on the ride down.

 

CHAPTER 6

Dear Oprah,

I think of what your life must be like and picture you surrounded by things that are lush and beautiful. In this month’s edition of O Magazine, there were pictures you had taken of your perfect lazy Sunday. There were gorgeous pictures from your house, things you love, including one of your dogs sleeping in the shade. I am ashamed to admit that I envy your dogs. I’m sure that their life is so much better than
mine. I’m trying not to complain and be proactive. After seeing the show you had on The Secret, I’ve gone through another magazine (I would never cut out the pages of O) and clipped pictures of things that I want in my life so I can visualize what I want and bring it to me. Not every picture is a thing exactly. I took one from an ad for a beach resort, and although I would like to go there, it represents tranquility to me. My budget is too tight for me to get a nice cork board for the pictures like you had on the show, so I’m just putting them on a mirror.

Regards,

Cate

P.S. I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but I also put a picture of you on the mirror. It represents my search for an authentic life.

 

After creating my very own picture collage to represent what I want out of life, I felt so good that I tried to get Kay to make one too. She said she wants to fall in love, and I don’t see why the same principles wouldn’t work for her. She said that one silly Sanders sister is enough, but maybe she’ll change her mind when it works for me.

Since I need to stay busy, just as much as I need to try to create my own Oprah-
esque existence, I have found ways to do both. Kay said I should cook for myself as if I’m cooking for Oprah, with fresh healthy gourmet meals. Since I still can’t stomach extended time in my disaster kitchen, that will have to wait.

I have been accepted as a volunteer for the Golden Retriever Rescue Center, where I will be donating two hours of my time a day. It will be great to play with the dogs, and I can walk them for exercise. Thanks to the
broken beer bottle I stepped on a year ago, I’m current on my tetanus shot and can start tomorrow. Since I don’t have a yard, I looked into the community garden options but the two nearby are filled with stinky frizzy haired people wearing Birkenstocks. It’s for the best since I found a better option in the online Want Ads. There’s a florist looking for a part-time delivery driver. This would put me in proximity to flowers, and in addition to albeit a minuscule income; wherever I go people will be happy to see me. I have an interview today at four. I should conserve funds by staying in, but I’m going to meet Jill afterwards.

When I got to the floral shop there was a small woman with dark hair pulled back standing behind the counter, sticking yellow roses into a cube of green Styrofoam. “Hi” I said, “my name is Cate Sanders.” She looked at me with no trace of recognition on her face. “I’m here for the interview.”

She grabbed some irises and said, “Oh, I’m so sorry I totally forgot you were coming.
Nice to meet you. I’m Betty. I’m afraid we’re going to have to talk while I work on this arrangement. Ever since word got out that Reverend Walker passed, I’ve been slammed with orders.”

“Oh.”
I hadn’t thought about funeral flowers, and I didn’t want to say that I’d never heard of Reverend Walker since she said it like I should have.

“Tell me about your experience. Have you worked for a florist before?”

“No, but I love flowers.” She looked up at me, and I could tell that wasn’t the response she was looking for. “Um, I’ve been in marketing for the past twelve years, but I got laid off. I thought this would be a nice change.”

“So, you’re looking for something temporary?”
Her eyebrows were pinched together so I knew that I still wasn’t making any progress.

“No, I mean, kind of. I don’t know what I want to do.”
Realizing that I had started to slouch, I stood up straight and made an effort to keep my shoulders back. “Maybe I want to be a florist, and this would be a good place to start.”

I thought she was going to tell me to go ahead and let the door hit me on my way out, when she said, “How big is your truck?”

I figured I didn’t hear her correctly, so I asked “Truck?”

“Your truck, how big is it?”
As I stared at her blankly, she said, “You want to deliver flowers and you don’t even have a truck, a van?”

“No. I guess I thought I would deliver them in my car.” She was looking at me like I was so stupid that it started to piss me off, “or that for eight dollars an hour, you would provide a vehicle.”

“Well you thought wrong.”
She went back to her floral arrangement.

I stood there for a minute, until it became clear that she wasn’t going to say anything else. My throat was so dry, I had to clear it just to say “Well thank you for your time
.” without making a croaking noise. She didn’t even look up.

I got to my car, thoroughly pissed and ready to meet Jill for a drink or five. Before I could even light a cigarette, Betty was at my window. I rolled it down reluctantly, certain that if she commented on my BMW convertible being a ridiculous delivery car, I would go off on her. I was already yelling at her in my head,
That’s right lady! I wasn’t just in marketing; I was a successful marketing executive! I’m not beneath delivering your stupid ass flowers, I should be above it!

“Listen, I’m really sorry,” she started. “I’ve been here since five this morning, and I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

I started to say it was okay, but I read that people treat you based on how you allow yourself to be treated. Now I’m trying to pay close attention to make sure that I’m sending out the right signals. So I said, “Apology accepted
.” instead.

“My mom is a gardener, I use some of her flowers here, and she needs some part-time help too. I think it’s only 2 days a week, but if you want I can give her your information.”
Hoping that her earlier behavior wasn’t indicative of her mother’s disposition, I said I would like that. Who knows, with an actual gardener this could be even better. My collage was working out already, so there was even more of a reason to have drinks with Jill.

Betty’s mother must have really needed help because she called while we were out. I didn’t pick up since I didn’t recognize the number. Her voicemail was short and said to come by anytime tomorrow before two o’clock, and she gave an address.

I told Jill about my progress, that I was starting tomorrow as a volunteer at the animal rescue center, and possibly going to have a part-time job. “Well, it’s good for you to get out of the house, and I have good news too! Drinks are on me, I’m getting a promotion!”

“That’s great. I didn’t know you were up for one.”

“I didn’t think it would go through, so I wasn’t going to mention it.”

“Why not?
Just because I got laid off, you don’t have to hide your successes. I’m happy for you.”

Jill was so gracious about her
promotion, I tried to enjoy it for her. Mostly I felt like a mooch of a best friend, like I should be capable of buying the celebratory drinks.

 

The next morning I hurried to the Golden Retriever Animal Rescue to start my first day as a volunteer. I was dressed in my Nike tennis shoes and a warm-up suit, ready to walk dogs. When I got there, I was surprised that I didn’t see any dogs. A peppy woman named Alexis greeted me and showed me to a back office. “Make yourself at home.” She said. “I started the rescue a few years ago. My husband Bill and I started it together, but now that he travels a lot for work, I’m running it by myself. It has grown into a full operation, so I need to get things more organized.” She was enviably thin in Seven jeans and a pressed button-down shirt, with shoulder length blonde hair that was undoubtedly the product of a pricey salon. I couldn’t help but notice the enormous diamond on her wedding ring. It had to be three carats.

“Where are the dogs?”
I asked.

“They’re in the kennel. This is the office, which is where you’ll be. As soon as we get your waiver signed, we’ll get you started.”
She handed me a pen and piece of paper.

“You rescue them, and put them in a kennel?”

Alexis laughed, “Oh no, it’s our kennel. That’s where we put the dogs that haven’t found foster homes
yet, which is where you come in!” She motioned to an enormous stack of papers. “There’s the paperwork for our foster families. We’re trying to create a computer database, so it will be easier to keep track of them and make matches. Can I get you a cup of coffee or something? Or are you ready to dive in?” The door opened behind her, and a guy walked in, ruggedly handsome with a strong jaw and wearing a fitted shirt over an athletic build. He could have been straight out of the Eddie Bauer catalogue. “This is Todd.” Alexis said. He lifted his chin in my direction, as he set something on the table and walked back out. “He helps out at the kennel.”

I shifted my weight on my heavily cushioned tennis shoes, and tried to conceal my disappointment. “Um, when do I get to see the dogs, you know play with them or walk them?”

Alexis turned the smile down a notch, but I still noticed how white her teeth were. “You said on your application that you wanted to help out in any way. This is what we need, paperwork onto the computer.”

“Right,” I said, thinking that I should have said that I needed exercise and time with dogs. Reminding myself that as a volunteer this isn’t about my needs, I regrouped. “I just want you to know that I would love to see the dogs too, you know, whenever you need that too.”

Alexis seemed to buy it. “Ok, well, coffee and water are in the next room, so help yourself, and just give me a shout if you have any questions.”
She smiled and disappeared around the corner. I looked at the massive stack of papers, and decided that I indeed needed coffee. There were cute mugs to the side of the coffee maker, all with pictures of golden retrievers. I grabbed one with a photo of a sleeping puppy that was adorable enough to have starred in a toilet paper commercial.

Must be nice, puppy life, I thought as I poured the coffee. I made my way back to the office and sat down, as ready as I was going to be to get to work. As I picked up the first form from the stack, I must have knocked the ones below. The papers started flying out from under it. I put my hands out to grab them, and felt the stinging pain on my fingers as I was the instant recipient of at least ten simultaneous paper cuts. “Shit!”
I yelled, dropping every piece of sharp paper as if it was a shard of glass.

“Everything ok in here?”
Alexis returned as quickly as she had left.

“Yep” I grimaced, “just paper cuts.”

I thought she was going to help me or at least ask if I needed a band aid when she said in a sing-song voice, “Cate, we try to watch our language here.”

“Sorry”, I said wondering who the hell “we” included.

“You never know when there could be kids here, and even when there aren’t, no one likes a potty mouth.”

“Right,” I wondered if I’d stepped into a foreign world, a land where people use the term ‘potty mouth’ with a straight face. “Um, ok then, I guess I’ll just get back to it.”
Alexis eyed the papers on the floor before she left the room. I started picking them up, the devil papers, wishing that I had gloves on. I made two piles, so they wouldn’t be towering again, positioned for an errant elbow to send them toppling over. I looked at the clock. Ten minutes I had been there. Ten long minutes, and they had two hours of my time, five days a week, as I had stated on the form. I wanted a cigarette, although I didn’t have to ask Alexis to know that in her world ashtray mouth is probably akin to potty mouth. I started to drink my coffee, which was so hot that I spewed it all over the computer and keyboard.
SHIT!
I yelled in my head with clenched fists and teeth. I could already feel a scalded thin layer of skin starting to pucker on the roof of my mouth. Afraid that Alexis would magically appear at the thoughts from a potty mouth brain, I grabbed Kleenex from my purse and frantically wiped coffee off the computer screen.

When the coast was clear, I tiptoed into the room with the coffee pot and grabbed napkins to get the remaining coffee splatter off the keyboard. I dabbed at the papers which now looked like they’d been sprayed by a mud puddle. An hour later I had finally made progress. I sorted the foster homes into stacks; vacancy, no vacancy. Vacancies were divided by what I figured must be pertinent information ‘children in the home’, ‘other pets’ (which was two stacks, those with cats, those with dogs), and ‘seniors’ since older dogs might be better with older people. I was close to creating files in the computer, when I realized I didn’t know what kind of database they were going to use, but my two hours were up. I looked for Alexis. Her Range Rover was still outside, but she was nowhere to be found in
the small renovated house they were using as an office. I waited ten minutes, and when there was still no sign of her, I left a note. It read, “Done for the day. I’ll be back at the same time tomorrow. Need to know what kind of database you’re using, so I can enter them accordingly. Thanks!” I thought about putting a smiley face on the note, figuring Alexis did that sort of thing, but it didn’t feel like me. After the whole potty mouth thing, I figured she knew that.

I decided to head straight to my next gig partially because I wanted to get it over with, and partially because I was afraid if I went home first, it would be even harder to get motivated to drag myself over there.

BOOK: What Would Oprah Do
2.66Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

On Black Wings by Storm, Sylvia
I Choose You by Lopez, Bethany
A Cowboy’s Honor by Lois Richer
Govinda (The Aryavarta Chronicles) by Krishna Udayasankar
Sister Time-Callys War 2 by John Ringo, Julie Cochrane
Dos mujeres en Praga by Juan José Millás
Shades of Shame (Semper Fi) by Cooper, Laura, Cooper, Christopher