Stephanie Lessing

No blogs for a while because I’m packing. I realize I’m only going to Boston for one
day, but still. 

We
saw the “Americans in Paris” exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art yesterday, in
honor of our houseguest, Kim’s camp friend, who’s visiting from France. When we left, I was in a bad mood. 

“What
the matter?” Dan asked.

“I
don’t want to see another portrait by John Singer Sargent for as long as live.”

”Why
not?”

“Because
I’ll never have one, so what’s the point? It’s like going to a restaurant and
ordering the most delicious thing on the menu, and then the food comes, and
after one bite, the waiter takes it away.”

”I
don’t see the correlation.”

“The
correlation is that I can’t stand looking at a painting for a few seconds.
People kept walking right in front of me the whole time. I need to take the
paintings home to enjoy them.”

“You
do realize that that’s not allowed.”

“Yes,
and I think it’s selfish on the museum’s part.”

“C’est
droll, no?” said the French boy.

“Maybe
we should go to a few galleries next weekend, and find a painting that’s
actually for sale.”

“No,I
only want those paintings.”

“How
about a poster of one of the paintings from the exhibit? You can put it in your office.”

“Oh,
please. I want an oil painting, not a
piece of paper.”

The
French boy was tapping Kim on the shoulder at this point, and making the
universal hand motion for crazy.

“It’s
funny because you hardly ever mention this intense desire you seem to suddenly
have for paintings.”

“That’s
because I typically avoid museums. What’s the point?”

“You’re
right. There is no point-in your
case. Museums are for people who know
how to share.”

And
then it occurred to me that I’ve always had a problem sharing pictures of any
kind. I guess there’s something about reproduced images that brings out the
worst in me. I have pictures of Dan and my kids all over my dressing room
mirror. They walk in and out of this
room constantly and I hardly gaze up at them. I’m too busy staring at their pictures.

When someone in my family, like my sister for example, looks through my
collection of family photos and says, “Oh, look at this one of my niece and
nephew! Can I have it?” I instantly try to talk her out of it. 

“You
really want that one? Don’t you think
Kim looks a little sad in that shot? She’s practically crying. And look how crooked Jesse’s tie is. You should probably just leave it here, so I
can throw it away later.”

And
then there are the old, torn, black and white photographs of my parents, and my
grandparents — particularly the ones of my mom when she was a teenager. The
glamorous, glossy photos of her standing beside her twin sister, both in their
satin sweet sixteen gowns, and the ones of my mother smoking a cigarette, in
her fur coat. I’d never be able to part with those. Kim once found them and put
them all around her room with scotch tape. I almost passed out.

“Oh
no, honey, you can’t hang these up!” I said, carefully lifting up the tape.
“They were processed at the turn of the century, and must lay flat for at least
another two hundred years, or else they’ll turn yellow.”

I
hate this about myself. I hate how possessive
I am about pictures of people who are still alive. I see these people every day, up close, in person, making all
sorts of faces. Photographs show only
one facial expression, one that the actual person rarely makes in real
life. Why do I feel so strongly about
making sure nothing happens to photographs of people I love? I guess it’s because I’m afraid of losing
these people, and, if nothing else, I’ll always be able to look at them,
looking back at me.

That,
of course, doesn’t explain my desire to take home paintings that don’t belong
to me. There’s no explanation for that really, other than that I just want to
keep them.

 

For those of you who have never heard of George Whitman, he is the 91 year old owner of a bookstore on the Left Bank of Paris called Shakespeare & Co.  Some of the greatest writers of all times hung out there and occasionally broke chairs over one another’s heads.  I won’t mention names, but I will tell you that one of them was not a communist.  Of course George is.  And that is why his store is available for anyone who so chooses to sleep over for as long as they like.  (THere’s a drunk in there who’s been sleeping over for five years). George feeds his guests (in a communal fashion) in addition to verbally abusing them and forcing them to do chores.  The only reason I know all this is because I watched a documentary about George tonight and I think I might be in love with him.

The thing that intrigued me the most, aside from the sick amount of books, is that when George needs a haircut, he lights his head on fire with a candle and then pats it out.  I mean most people wouldn’t be able to come up with an idea like that.  And that is why I am going to Paris to meet George.  Most of you have probably already been to this bookstore, but I only walked by it, having no idea that George was inside.  But now  I know, and I plan on sleeping over too.  But I’ll probably bring my own pillow.  You have to see how dirty this place is to believe it.  Bugs everywhere, and yet, I need to meet George and show him "She’s Got Issues." 

       

       

I
started a diet today.

Here’s what I ate so far:

Two
hard boiled eggs but only ½ the yolks.

A
cup of coffee with non-dairy creamer

Two
cups of Special K

It’s 11:44. I’ll check in later but,
for the moment, I want you all to know that I’m still full!

2:51

We
can now add two sets of Van’s mini waffles, a small handful of almonds and two
rice cakes with cottage cheese.

I’m
dangerously over the limit of what one might call a diet at this point and looking
forward to dinner. Dan always whips up
something exciting on Sunday nights. 

And
you know, it’s silly to start a diet on a Sunday, what with Monday, the day I
like to think of as “fresh start day,” just around the corner.

We’ll
see how it goes, though. Because, if
for some strange reason, I don’t eat another thing all day, I might be able to
still count this as day one.

3:26

I just wrote five pages of my new book, which were actually
five pretty funny pages, if I must say, but, unfortunately, I worked up a
little appetite. I’ll try to hold off
but it doesn’t look good.

4:17

one cup of butternut squash soup. It might have been a mug. The thing is, there was only a tiny bit left in the pot after I had the
mug, so let’s call it a mug and a half to be safe. I actually have a stomach ache now. So that’s good.

Oh, and there were some crackers involved.

6:05

Dan just came home and he’s already making dinner. He asked me how my diet was going( while
watching me eat half of an oatmeal
raisin cookie). I told him I wasn’t
exactly perfect, but that it’s only my first day, so I don’t really have the
hang of it yet, and then I ate the
other half. 

Anything that happens after this is strictly for my
food diary. Which I’m starting
tomorrow. 

October 19, 2006

Okay, so the next two events I’ll be doing are as follows:

November 2, Boston University  Barnes&Noble  7PM

November 3, Penn Station, Hudson Booksellers 2-4PM (same spot as
last time, remember? Valentine’s Day)

I’ll post more specific info in the next
day or so. In the meantime, if you’re insanely bored and sick of working, check
out these websites (reviews).

 

 

 Freshfiction.com – Fiction and
non-fiction book reviews for the latest titles off the presses. November
contest feature pending. http://freshfiction.com/book.php?id=12373

*Posted
10/16

 

Thewritersbuzz.com
– The Writer’s Buzz is a community blog.

http://www.thewritersbuzz.com/2006/10/14/book-excerpt-miss-understanding/

*Posted
10/14

 

Articlesbase.com
-. http://www.articlesbase.com/fiction-articles/the-unlovable-heroine-62728.html

*Posted
10/13

 

Amazines.com
– The ultimate article and e-zine database. http://amazines.com/Writing/article_detail.cfm/159469?articleid=159469&Title=writing%3B%2Cfiction%2C

*Posted
10/13

 

Romancedesigns.com
– A network of romance communities separated by categories including but not
limited to Chick Lit, Paranormal, Multi–cultural, Historical, and Young Adult.

http://www.romancedesigns.com/pendingbookreviews.cfm

*Posted
10/12

 

Chicklitromancewriters.com
– Part of the Romance Designs network, an online reading community for authors
and readers of Chick Lit. http://chicklitromancewriters.com/Bookinfo.cfm?bookID=22108

*Posted
10/12

 

Writtenvoices.com
– Book site where readers can attend author chats, listen to author interviews
and readings, win free books, join a discussion and more. http://www.writtenvoices.com/titlepage.asp?ISBN=0061133884

*Posted
10/12

 

Loveofreading.com
– Website featuring open forums, book raffles, excerpts, and audio and video
interviews with various authors. http://www.loveofreading.com/titlepage.asp?ISBN=0061133884

*Posted
10/12

 

Notenoughbooks.blogspot.com
– Book review “blog” featuring reviews for all genres. Review posted. http://notenoughbooks.blogspot.com/2006/10/miss-understanding-by-stephanie-lessing.html

*Posted
10/10

 

Heartstringsreviews.com
– Here you’ll find a wide variety of romance-related info at Heartstrings, actually:
from thought-provoking women’s fiction to zany chick lit and everything
in-between.

http://heartstringsreviews.com/romance.htm

*Posted
10/6

 

 

Bookloons.com
– Large community review site. Reviews, columns, and excerpts for adult and
children’s books.

http://www.bookloons.com/cgi-bin/Review.asp?bookid=6824

*Posted
10/1

 

Articledashboard.com
http://www.articledashboard.com/Article/The-Unlovable-Heroine/96790

*Posted
9/26

 

Roundtablereviews.com
– Book reviews and author interviews and essays for all genres. http://www.roundtablereviews.com/lessingstephanie906.htm

*Posted
9/25

 

Frontstreetreviews.com
– Front Street Reviews is the road to follow for anyone who loves books. By
previewing and providing information on the books and their authors they make
sure you can spend your time reading the books you will really enjoy. Review by
Eclectic Closet reviewer posted. http://frontstreetreviews.com/

*Posted
9/25

 

Eclectic
Closet – Book review “blog” featuring the random thoughts &
ponderings of an avid reader and reviewer. http://antheras.blogspot.com/2006/09/book-review-miss-understanding-by.html

*Posted
9/21

 

Review
also posed here:

Gather.com
– http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.jsp?articleId=281474976799170

 

Selfgrowth.com
– Their mission it to provide a single central resource for information on Self
Improvement, Self Help and Personal Growth on the Internet. http://www.selfgrowth.com/articles/Lessing2.html

*Posted
9/18

 

Bestsellersworld.com
– The purpose of this website is to provide informative book reviews for
readers. http://www.bestsellersworld.com/reviews/lessing-miss_understanding.htm

*Posted
9/18

 

Articles-hut.com
-. http://articles-hut.com/litterature/the-unlovable-heroine.html

*Posted
9/18

 

Buzzle.com
– The goal of Buzzle.com is to become the hottest information site on the
Internet. They believe there is Intelligent Life on the Web, and their mission
is to bring that life to anyone who is looking for it. website. http://www.buzzle.com/editorials/9-17-2006-109071.asp

*Posted
9/17

 

Alumbo.com
– Hundreds of articles to inspire and motivate, plus tips and resources for
personal growth, self-help and wellness. http://www.alumbo.com/article/25086-The-Unlovable-Heroine.html

*Posted
9/15

 

Myonlinemagazine.net
– The Women’s Online Magazine For Every Woman In You! Features articles and
columns by women for women. Articles pertain to a variety of topics including
health and wellness, beauty, parenting and relationships. http://www.myonlinemagazine.net/women/modules/articles/article.php?id=458

*Posted
9/13

 

Article-spot.com
– The hot spot for top articles. http://article-spot.com/the-unlovable-heroine

*Posted
9/12

 

Popular-articles.com
– Popular-articles.com is an article search engine and directory containing
over 61,000 articles in over 150 categories, updated daily. http://www.popular-articles.com/artman/publish/The_Unlovable_Heroine.shtml

*Posted
9/12

 

Thewritersbuzz.com
– The Writer’s Buzz is a community “blog” http://www.thewritersbuzz.com/2006/09/11/the-unlovable-heroine-by-stephanie-lessing/

*Posted
9/11

 

Articledevil.com. http://articledevil.com/art/literature/the-unlovable-heroine.php

*Posted
9/11

 

Romancereaderatheart.com
– Romance Reader at Heart presents quickie thoughts and ponderings on current,
new, and upcoming releases. http://romancereaderatheart.com/pubsandpromos/publishers/

*Posted
9/5

 

 

Reviewcentre.com
– http://www.reviewcentre.com/review213158.html

*Posted
9/3

 

Romancedanmark.dk
– http://www.romancedanmark.dk/forum/viewtopic.php?p=4890&sid=a11f08d2615e144211b3b055665d48b6

 

Aimoo.com
– http://www.aimoo.com/forum/postview.cfm?id=491840&CategoryID=201644&startcat=1&ThreadID=2622030

 

Harrietklasner.wwwi.com
– http://harrietklausner.wwwi.com/review/miss_understanding_lessing

 

Tnrdlib.bc.ca
– http://www.tnrdlib.bc.ca/rr-indexes/il-474.html#il-4735MissUnd

 

Womens-place.com
– An oasis on the Internet created by women for women. Planning to feature Miss
Understanding as its November Book Choice. www.womens-place.com

 

 

Loveromancesandmore.com
– Book review site dedicated to romance and women’s fiction of all types
featuring author interviews and contests. http://www.loveromancesandmore.com/

 

Onceuponaromance.net
– A Place For The Discriminating Reader and Writer of Fiction. Features
reviews, interviews, writing tips and monthly contests. www.onceuponaromance.net

 

Wordcandy.net
– Website that celebrates all of those books that make readers happy that they
learned to read in the first place. Features Romance, Humor, Horror, Mystery
and more. www.wordcandy.net

 

Wantzuponatime.com
– This website is dedicated to readers AND authors, all of whom invest a part
of their lives to the written word. Fair, balanced reviews serve all parties:
the readers who take the time to pick up the books, and the authors who can
always use that extra exposure for their work. Review pending. www.wantzuponatime.com

 

 

Theromancereadersconnection.com
– Reviews, features and editorial for a dedicated community of romance fiction
enthusiasts. www.theromancereadersconnection.com

 

 

Coffeetimeromance.com
–Author interviews, contests, book reviews, live author chats, and much
more! www.coffeetimeromance.com

October
17, 2006

When
my daughter started pre-school, she would come home every day and tell me about
her friend Lorraine. I knew all the little girls in her pre-school class and
none of them were named Lorraine. My
daughter went into elaborate descriptions about what Lorraine wore to school
that day, and what compliments Lorraine had given her about her own outfit. She
once told me that Lorraine whispered in her ear that she was her favorite. 
  “I tell Lorraine everything. That’s the kind of friendship we
have,” my daughter explained. 

I
realized, of course, that Lorraine was imaginary.

 “Lorraine wasn’t there today,” Kim said,
out of the blue, one day after school, as we were driving home.

 “Maybe she was sick,” I suggested.

 “I don’t think so,” Kim said, looking out
the window.

 “Why not?” I asked.

 “Lorraine isn’t the type to just get
sick.”

 I thought about that for a second. Kim was
probably right. What are the chances
that someone who doesn’t exist would just suddenly catch a cold? Then I thought about it some more, and
realized that Kim was probably phasing out Lorraine. She’d been in school for a few months by then. She was making friends and feeling
comfortable. Lorraine was probably just
a transitional character. 

 The next day Kim told me that Lorraine
changed her hair color and that she was considering dying her own hair red. I
told her it was fine with me, but that she’d have to go every six weeks to a
salon to touch up her roots. She said
she’d think it over.

 Weeks went by and no talk of Lorraine,
until one day, when apparently Lorraine came to school wearing the biggest
diamond ring Kim had ever seen. “Bigger
than a piece of gum,” Kim explained.

 “Was it her mom’s ring?” I asked. Kim looked at me like I’d asked a ridiculous
question and then she started laughing. “Lorraine’s mom?” she said. I
thought it was a perfectly logical question. What are the rules for making
assumptions about figments of the imagination?

 A few weeks later, Dan and I attended
back-to-school night. The parents quietly filed into the room, and each of the
mothers quickly found their child’s seat. I sat down in my daughter’s little
chair and touched her name, which had been handwritten by the teacher, on an
index card, and scotch-taped to her desk. Dan stood in the back, with all the
other fathers, leaning against the wall. 

 I opened Kim’s desk and saw her little
magic markers, the hair bands that never made it home and a half eaten oatmeal
raisin cookie, neatly tucked in its wrapper, that didn’t look familiar. I saw her worksheets with her big
handwriting all over them and a note that said, ‘Hi” in about a dozen different
handwritings. I breathed in the smell
of her pencils, her paintings and whatever else I could detect of her other
life. It occurred to me at that moment
that her world did not begin and end with me. She had experiences all day that had nothing to do with me. Experiences that she needed to cope
with—experiences that I wasn’t there to fix. I wondered how she managed without me, but something about the contents
of her busy, and yet organized desk made me realize that she was doing just
fine.

 I closed the top of her desk and looked up.
I glanced at the women next to me, all carefully examining their children’s
belongings, as though they were peering into their child’s ear to make sure it
was clean.

 Just then I felt someone behind me touch
my shoulder. I turned around and
smiled. 

 “I’m Lorraine,” she said. “You must be Kim’s mom. She looks just like you.”
 “You’re Lorraine?”

 “Yes, I’m Jake’s mom. Did she mention me?”
 “Yes, every day,” I said, turning my
body around so I could face my daughter’s imaginary friend head-on. 

 “Kim and I talk on the carpool line. I
always get there a few minutes early and she’s always waiting by the fence to
tell me what happened that day. She’s
adorable.”

 “Thank you,” I said, somewhat in shock,
glancing down at Lorraine’s ring finger.

 “Would Kim like to come over to our house
and play sometime?”

 “I’m sure she would love it,” I said,
hoping that Lorraine understood Kim would be coming over to spend time with
her, and not her child.

 That night I came home and told Kim that
I met Lorraine. Somehow I felt like I was intruding.

 “Oh! Good,” Kim said. “I was hoping you two would finally
meet. Maybe we could all go out to
lunch sometime. Us three.” I thought about how nice that would be, and
how lucky I was to have a daughter who thought I would fit in with her friends.

 

 

 

http://candycoveredbooks.com/view_book.php?id=1401

See now this is why I’m always in a good mood.

October 13, 2006

The day after the signing,
we had a full eight hours of movie screenings on our schedule. I was especially
excited to see “Betty’s Treats” as well as a few others. I was excited because I promised that I would attend these screenings and I
never break a promise. Except I didn’t go to any of them. As it turns out, Robin’s friend Sharon made
me an eyelash appointment for that day. 

So instead of keeping my
promises, and watching cool movies all day, I allowed a woman to glue fake eyelashes
in between my own eyelashes for two hours. And let’s just say it didn’t go well.

First of all, she had to
tape my bottom lashes down before she could begin the process, which made me
feel a lot like Alex in “A Clockwork Orange.” And I hate that feeling. 

And secondly, I still have a
little cough left. And so every time
she came near me, I had a little attack, which caused me to jolt forward, so
she was forced to poke me in the eye. With glue. 

And then every time she’d
add an eyelash, I’d say, “Ow!” and she’d say, “Sorry” and then I’d say, “No,
I’m sorry.”

We apologized to one another like this from noon to two pm non-stop, except for
the brief period of time when I must have fallen asleep.

When I looked in the mirror,
I looked exactly the same, except my eyes were bloodshot. I asked her how long
the eyelashes typically last and she said, “one month, but you might want to
fill them in –in two weeks.” And then I got the bill, which we won’t
discuss. 

So then we went home and I
sat in the car, looking in the mirror, all the way home, trying to see myself
with my eyes closed.

That night I had dinner with
my friend Cheryl, (my one and only single friend/ former Ford model –go
figure) who still looks sixteen, even though she’s my age, and Sharon and Robin
and Rory (single male, tall) at a small Italian restaurant near our hotel. We
had a really good time. The food was
delicious, and it’s always fun to look at Cheryl and imagine what it’s like to
be 5’9” and wear no makeup whatsoever.

 

In fact, everything was
going great. Cheryl and Rory were
talking up a storm, and the rest of us were laughing and drinking wine, until
all of a sudden Robin turned to me and said, “What are you doing?”

 “One of my new eyelashes is bothering me,” I explained. “I think she glued it a little too close to
my eyeball. I’m just trying to readjust
it a bit.”

 ‘You can’t readjust them. They’re cemented in. Stop
playing with them.”

And that’s what did it. The
more I thought about not touching them, the more I couldn’t keep my hands off
of them. It took three days but I got
every single one off. I can’t tell you what a relief it was. Of course, I’ll never be the same, what
with the huge chunks of my own eyelashes that are now missing along with the
fake ones, but it was worth it.

The important thing is that I’ll never do another
beauty treatment again for as long as I live. And that’s a promise.

After
the Ali/Cindy reunion, I met up with my sister back at the hotel. She had flown to L.A. that morning from
Florida to meet me so I wouldn’t have to go to the signing alone. Signings typically make me very nervous, so
she wanted to be there for me, I guess just in case I accidentally flung myself
out of a moving car or something, just to avoid going.

But
she had nothing to worry about. I
wasn’t about to injure myself simply because the last signing brought on a
little acid reflux that lasted eight months, and that I’d mistaken for throat
cancer. Granted, I was beginning to feel a little tightening sensation in my
gums, but

I
was fine. In fact, I got undressed,
slipped on my hotel robe and casually flipped on the TV. “Click” was playing again, so I flipped it
off and decided to read instead.

“How
come your book is upside down?” my sister asked.

“Is
it?”

“Let’s
have a drink,” she suggested.

“I
can’t.”

“Why
not?”

“Because
I can’t breathe.”
”That’s why I suggested a drink.”
”Can’t. Drunk make me nervous.”
”What? Nevermind. How about if we take a walk or something. This room is a little stuffy.”
”Nope. Sit here.”
”Are you okay?”

“Not
really. Pass the beer nuts.”
”Don’t eat beer nuts, Steph. You’ll get
sick.”

“That’s
my goal. I want to induce vomiting now
to get it over with so I won’t throw up later, in front of everyone.”
”You won’t throw up.”
”Yeah, I will. I feel it coming on.”

That’s
when she started talking. She talked
for two hours without stopping. I never
even once acknowledged a single thing she was saying, but that didn’t stop her. That’s what my sister does when she’s
nervous and when she doesn’t want me to be nervous. She talks incessantly. I love her for this, but she was giving me
a headache.

“I
need Advil.”
”Oh, here. I happen to have some right
here. Anyway, did I tell you Sharon is
coming tonight? With her friend Rory. And her assistant. And she also invited this other girl. So matter what there will be at least five people there.”
”Don’t say ‘people’.”

“Sorry. Anyway, so I was going to wear black pants
but I think I’ll just wear jeans. Are
you going to wear jeans?”
”Don’t say ‘people’.”

“I
didn’t, I said, ‘jeans.’”

“Oh,
I thought you said Jean was coming.”

We went on like this until it was 7:30PM. My signing was scheduled for 7. But I couldn’t get up.

“We’re
going to be late,” she said.

“Can
you just go and say you’re me?”

She
does look a lot like me. Even I can’t
tell the difference. 

“Absolutely
not. You have to get up and get
dressed.”

“None
of my clothes will fit me. I’m
bloated. From the beer nuts.”
”That’s ridiculous. Just put on this
shirt and these pants,” she said, rummaging through the little closet.

“I
feel like we’re reenacting a scene from ‘Miss Understanding.’”

“Me
too. Get dressed.”

I
did get dressed, in the end. But I
didn’t look very good and my eyes were still swollen from the facial. But I got myself to the signing and it was
nothing like anything I could have imagined.

First
of all, the reason for the signing was that my book was featured in the goody
bags of the “La Femme Film Festival.” Which I know you know, because I only brought it up every day for the last
month. So there were a lot of
filmmakers and agents and producers there. I was seated next to my poster, with
a little table next to me, and my sister at my side, and a whole bunch of books
on the table. And nobody came near me.

“How
about we get a little snack?” Robin suggested.

“Okay,
but no carbs,” I said, kicking myself that I didn’t stay upstairs in my room.

“Why
no carbs?”

“I’m
on a diet.”
”Since when?”
”Since I started repelling people.”
”Stop it. Nobody even saw you sitting
there or they would have come over. You
were hiding behind the poster. Next
time sit in front of it.”
”I want to go home.”

Just then Sharon came over to us with her assistant and this guy Rory, who she
dated a few times, but then became a friend. I filed the name Rory in my mental Rolodex, under “single male,
tall.” I have one single friend and I
never stop looking for potential husbands for her. I’m on call at all times.

Sharon
started chatting away with Robin and some other girl came over to us and said,
“So what are you, sisters or something?” She was very friendly, all evening. We became an instant fivesome. Me, Robin, Rory, Sharon, Sharon’s
assistant and the friendly girl. I
realize that’s six, but it looked like five. I typically count Robin and me as one.  That’s how much we look alike.

“What
do you want to eat?” Sharon asked me.

“Cheese.”
”Alrighty, cheese it is.” And she made
me a little plate.

Then
we all sat down by my cozy signing area. Something about our little groupage had a bizarre effect on the
crowd. People were suddenly
swarming. I must have signed 200 books
in two hours. I never stopped. All I did was sign and eat the plates and
plates of cheese Sharon kept bringing me. Then some girl and her mother came over to interview me. 

”Let’s go outside,” she said. And so I
did. I never even asked her who she was
or why she was interviewing me or where it would appear. I just kept answering
questions and holding in my stomach.

The
whole night was a blur. And then we
were back in our room.

“See? I told you it would go well,” Robin said.

“That’s
only because you were there.”

There’s
no denying the fact that it went well. I can’t even lie to make you laugh. It
was just perfect. Because my sister was
there. She always makes everything
better. 

I
had written something in “miss understanding” that eventually got edited out,
but it was all about when Chloe and Zoe were babies and how their mother used to plop Chloe down next to Zoe
whenever she was crying. All she had to do was sit Chloe near Zoe and the
crying stopped. She used her as a human pacifier.

I’m not saying I’m Zoe. God Forbid. And I’m definitely not saying Robin is Chloe. I’m just saying there’s no such thing as
fiction.

So where was I?

Oh right, the flight
landed. And then I went to my hotel,
which was not good. The lobby was cute,
very cute actually, so I thought it was going to be a great place to stay: white
book covers on all the books (turns out the books were all bibles though) and
green apples everywhere, but my room smelled like it had been smoked in, so I
ordered up dinner and went to bed holding my nose.

 The next morning I went to the Peninsula and spent the day in the
spa waiting for Cindy, a.k.a Ali, to arrive. We had plans to meet in the outdoor rooftop cafe at 12:30. I got there at 8:40 am. and got a facial,
which promised to make me look ten years younger. And by ten years younger, I guess they meant swollen and shiny.

By noon I couldn’t wait anymore so I went outside to the
Rooftop and got us a table. At 12:15 I
ordered an iced tea and while I was ordering, Cindy walked in. She looked like a movie star and every one turned
around to see who she was. Either that
or they were turning around to see why I was suddenly sprinting across the
room. I ran right into her and hugged
her, and was shocked to realize that I must have shrunken over the years. Somehow she was at least five inches taller
than me and I was wearing enormously high heels. She never mentioned that she’d gotten taller. I naturally assumed she’d be the same height
as the last time I saw her. But people
change.

We didn’t waste so much as a single second on small
talk. We got right into exactly what
really happened with our lives from the moment we left Mademoiselle until
now. You can’t do that sort of thing
with most people because most people typically make up all sorts of great stuff
about themselves when they haven’t seen someone in eighteen years. But not Cindy. She tells it like it is, with
both hands up in the air at all times, somehow trying to define and contain the
context of each story with some sort of invisible frame. I tried to get her hand motions on film, but
she stopped doing it as soon as I started filming. I tried to get her ordering her food too, which is priceless, but
she doesn’t order the same on film. In
real life she does it like Annie Hall, but on film she does it like a normal
person, which was too bad because I wanted my daughter to see her in action. There
was so little of the Annie Hall version of her left, I wanted to savor every
morsel. 

The thing that impressed me most about Cindy, the girl who
had made such an impression on me in my twenties that I put her in my book, is
how she is no longer anything like Ali. I still love her just as much, but for completely different reasons this
time around.

When she was Ali, back in the art department of
Mademoiselle, she was this sweet, funny, vulnerable, accident-prone beauty who
had no idea she was pretty or smart or how talented she was. I loved her for that. I loved her for getting so nervous when
someone walked by her that she’d just slam the phone down even if she happened
to be talking to her boss.

But that Ali is long gone. Cindy is now a grown woman. Just
as beautiful, just as sweet, but incredibly confident, accomplished and
mature. She’s so together and
articulate, I was tempted to call her Mrs. Sinclair.

We talked about her career designing textiles, her
experience adopting her daughter from China and her husband, who she loves and
adores. And I must say, I can’t really blame her. Apparently the man can take apart an entire refrigerator and put
it back together again. We’re still
working on changing light bulbs in our house.

We talked about old friends and new friends and how she
learned over the years to distinguish between people who make her happy and
people who suck the living breath out of her. She made a point about how important it is for our girls to learn how to
take care of themselves, as opposed to using up all of their energy trying to
take care of people who might not necessarily want to be helped. She also made another very important point
that I want to share with my readers because I have a feeling many of you are a
lot like Cindy and me and you might fall prey to the same sort of people that
Cindy and I have always been drawn to. 

 There are, as well
all know, all sorts of toxic people in this world. Most of the time, we aren’t affected by other people’s poison
because we have the sense to stay away from people who are unappealing in their
negativeness. You don’t exactly have to
pry yourself off some screaming, preaching lunatic walking down the street. You can see at a glance that he’s not your type. But then there are those other people— the ones who are extremely
appealing in their negativeness. Their
arrogant charm is an opiate for unsuspecting pleasers who think to themselves,
“If I can get that asshole to like me, then I’ll have really accomplished
something. That would make me, what?
like the coolest person ever.”

But it doesn’t work that way. Ask Cindy. All that really happens is that you end up married to
a screaming lunatic with a subtler rap.

After being married to two of these guys, Cindy’s brother
told her, “Next time, go normal.” And
she listened to him and that has made all the difference. 

It’s amazing how much I miss the other Cindy. She was a
character in her own right. The type of
person you never forget, but I wouldn’t trade the new Cindy for anything. I learned so much in the short time we were
together. I came away with so many
words of wisdom to pass on to my daughter and I felt like I’d made a new friend
instead of reconnecting with a person from my past.

After a few hours, Cindy had to leave to pick up her
daughters and I had to go back to my hotel to ice down my face in time for the
signing that night. After she left, I
bent down to put my camera back in its bag and in doing so, I noticed that my
hair was dipping into the sauce of our half-eaten chocolate cake. I quickly jerked up and the contents of the
camera bag spilled out all over the floor.

“Are you okay?” our waiter asked, running over to help me,
as I scrambled to collect everything.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I answered, “Actually, I’m more than
okay. Just channeling an old friend.”