The Theory of Happily Ever After Page 7

  “They have personal responsibility, Maggie. If they quit their job without thought to the consequences, that won’t be your fault. This cult of Jake mind control you’ve got going on needs to end already.”

  I try to explain myself one last time. “All this data told me that Jake and I had shared interests, that we supported each other’s dreams . . . The data did not account for someone lying to me, nor that betrayal would leave me in a pit of despair. I didn’t lose a fiancé. I lost my working partner as well. I collected the information. He shared it in speeches. You should have seen him in the corporate world. CEOs and human resources departments ate him up! I can’t do that. I don’t have that natural charisma.”

  She stares at me as if she just saw the biggest bug crawl out from under the bed. “That’s why you’re burying yourself in a fantasy Cinderella world? You think you need Jake to do this job?”

  “That’s not all of it, of course, but so many people depended on this book and the prestige it brought the university. Jake had his job because of this book. You’ve had yours as a big-name publicist on a book no one in marketing believed in at the time. Our sociology department is up for more grants because of the success of this book. That’s a lot of pressure, and if Jake is gone, it’s all on me.”

  “So don’t write another study to be published in a journal ever again. Stay at home and watch television. Let Jake do it. Oh wait, he can’t because all he knows how to do is read a teleprompter and read your work aloud.”

  “He would improvise too.”

  Haley’s face turns a crimson color close to the hue of her hair. “Every career has setbacks. The data isn’t flawed, and the only person you’re leading down the wrong path is yourself. You don’t have to be perfect. I’m not asking you for the perfect book. I’m asking you to translate the data into meaningful works for a typical audience.”

  She makes it sound so simple. Trusting has never been a simple exercise for me. Not since God took the only person who ever loved me, flaws and all.

  I shake off the thought. “My parents aren’t a typical audience,” I remind her. “They use my book to show up their friends at the country club, and so far it’s worked. If I’m a fluke . . . if the book is illegitimate and my audience is all pseudo-intellectuals, this is all going to collapse like a house of cards.” My voice wobbles and I swallow down the panic. Normally I’d run to my flat screen and be enveloped in sweetness and light, but Haley and Kathleen aren’t about to let me escape this time. This time I really have to face the wall in front of me. “I’ve been researching jobs at other universities—”

  Haley flings my book on the bed and sits beside me, taking my hands. “First off, Jake can find another job. He never should have had that one, and we’ll never know if he targeted you from the start. You owe Jake Stone nothing. He manipulated you so that he could give the speeches and make himself look good.” Haley smooths her curls. “He told you he was better at speeches so many times that you actually believe it.”

  I did believe it. Because it was true. Jake didn’t have those hard voices reminding him of how he didn’t measure up. He didn’t have parents who were left heartbroken with only one child—the not-as-bright child—to fulfill all their expectations.

  I wasn’t allowed to speak of the loss of my sister at home, and somehow I’d been programmed never to speak of the loss out in the world either. Even Haley and Kathleen had no idea my parents had an heir and a spare. Amy was supposed to be the heir. I was the spare, and I’d simply snapped from the pressure because I wasn’t like her. Life hadn’t come easily to me like it had to her. I didn’t spread sunshine and light behind me like Amy had. Nor did I attract people to me as though I was a human magnet. In essence, I wasn’t a unicorn. Amy was a unicorn among wild mustangs.

  “Does Jake have a TED Talk?”

  “Well, no. But he doesn’t have a degree in—”

  “Secondly, no matter what you do, your parents will always expect more, so you can’t let their reaction motivate you. Finally, this book isn’t a fluke and it isn’t garbage. I believe in it and I believe in you, and if you can’t believe in yourself, you’re just going to have to let Kathleen and me do it for you. You’re not just a television movie addict who steals cats.”

  “Borrows.” I hold up my forefinger. “I borrowed the cat.”

  “Fine. Borrows cats. Tonight is important, Maggie. I already tweeted out to your followers something positive about starting over and the power of resilience. You can use Jake’s dumping you as a springboard for success. Everyone’s been dumped. People will identify with your vulnerability. I mean, who doesn’t love a Rocky story of overcoming?”

  I start shaking my head before she gets the last word out. “I’m not talking about my breakup. Haley, that’s not what I do. I’m not a self-help guru, I’m a scientist. I relay factual information to neurotypicals.”

  “Stop using that word. It makes you sound like a weirdo.”

  “Well, I am a weirdo. Remember in college when you went to the football games and I went to the library? My social skills haven’t really improved since then. Learning comes easily. Small talk? Not so much.”

  She sighs. “You’re a bestselling author because of how you make science accessible to the average joe, not because of the actual science. The science is just reporting data. A monkey could do that.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad my life’s work is so important to you. Monkeys aren’t great at small talk either. I’m just saying.”

  Haley laughs. “You know what I mean. People want to connect with you. Connection makes the science come to life.”

  Haley’s bright red, full lips mesmerize me for a minute. They’re like men’s kryptonite. No wonder she collects suitors like a child collects seashells. Her copper-hued hair waterfalls down her back in long, bouncy curls, and she always appears crisp and clean, as if a stylist follows her around. Even to the gym.

  Let’s just say that if I were an overflowing canvas duffle bag, Haley would be a perfectly packed Louis Vuitton travel case. She always has the right statement piece for her outfits and a fresh, crisp collar. Her accessories always coordinate with her outfits perfectly, and the result always looks effortless. In her free time, Haley surfs, skis, refinishes antique furniture, and runs her own successful company. If I hadn’t been forced upon her as her first college roommate, we’d probably never be friends. She took pity on me and tried to clear my closet of Gap sweatpants and replace them with Juicy Couture tracksuits, but I could never get used to the idea of having Juicy plastered across my bum.

  “I know you mean well, Haley, this being a singles’ cruise and everything, but no one wants to hear about my nerdy self getting dumped for a pretty airhead. That’s not news. It’s life! It starts in junior high school when you come home with all A’s on your report card, and your cheerleader cousin comes home with a boyfriend.”

  “There’s science on overcoming adversity, that’s what I’m talking about. You touch on it in your current book. You’ve applied for a new grant on the subject. It’s all in the neuroscience, right? This positive psychology? All I’m asking you to do is what you do naturally—write about the science. Make the connections.”

  “Sure,” I tell her. “Instead of Eat, Pray, Love, we’ll call it Eat, Binge-Watch TV, Buy Bigger Sweatpants. Think of it—all the pleasure centers in the brain lighting up. No human contact necessary, and definitely no flooding by that pesky love hormone, oxytocin.”

  “I give up,” Haley says. “Kathleen!” she yells at the bathroom door. “You talk to her.”

  Kathleen comes out of the bathroom wearing an electric-blue sheath dress that shows off her cut arms while managing to make her look wholly feminine. She takes one glance at me and shrugs her muscular shoulders. “She’ll be fine. She can only feel sorry for herself for so long, and then she has to earn an actual living. She’s too practical not to have figured that out by now.” She shakes out her blonde locks. “Let’s go. I’m starving. No one should e
ver be starving on a cruise ship. It’s like a natural law of the universe.”

  I stare at my reflection in the mirror and try to delay my fate. I’m wearing a beautiful cocktail dress in cream-colored lace, with a black lace overlay at the scalloped neck and skirt. It’s innocent and elegant, but lacking in finesse. My dress is cute. Not sophisticated. Not grown-up. I might never have noticed had Jake not left me for a chick in tights.

  “I look cute,” I say dejectedly.

  “Isn’t that the point?” Kathleen asks, while smoothing her sophisticated bodycon dress and knowing she will turn every head on board.

  “Maybe when you’re sixteen, but you and Haley look sexy. Worldly. I look sweet, as if I were having a quinceañera.”

  “Because you’re an innocent-movie freak. That’s how they dress. Turn on some Bravo, girl!”

  “She needs Lifetime. Maybe if she watches a few women take out their straying exes, she’ll stop feeling sorry for Jake.”

  When it appears that I can stall my friends no further, I decide to let the last secret of my lifestyle breakdown dribble out. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you girls before I go tomorrow and spew happiness advice.”

  “If we hear you out, do you promise to head to the dining room with no more whining?” Kathleen asks. “We know you’re stalling.”

  “Absolutely. The thing is, I haven’t told my parents yet about Jake. Or the job, if I’m being honest. It never seemed like the right time, and before I knew it, it was too late. Way too late to tell them casually.”

  Haley and Kathleen both sit back down on the bed with their mouths agape. It takes something to shock my friends, who know me inside and out, but I’ve obviously succeeded.

  “You haven’t told your parents that you haven’t been to work for two months?” Haley asks.

  “And that I’m not actually getting married.”

  “That’s why you didn’t change your Facebook status!” Kathleen says. “I thought that was weird.”

  “How did you keep it from them? You don’t so much as belch without your mother knowing about it,” Haley says.

  “When my mother called, I told her I was too busy at work to help with the wedding plans. She’d ask white or ivory, peach or pink. I’d give her an offhand answer and be back to my show in under a minute. The gelato didn’t even have time to melt. Before I knew it, weeks had passed and Jake’s real wedding was upon us, and then it became clear that the problem was bigger than when I’d started lying by omission.”

  “Lying by omission?” Kathleen raises a single brow in that judgmental way. “That’s what we’re calling this?”

  “You know it’s not like me to lie. Even by omission. I’ve been a good girl all my life.”

  “Maybe that’s your problem. Maybe it’s time to stop being a girl and become the woman you’re supposed to be. Regardless of how your parents feel.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. The problem is, this whole thing snowballed and now it feels too overwhelming to tell them. I have no idea where to start. I mean, I knew that eventually I would have to come out of my apartment and face the music, but with all those happily ever afters I watched, I thought something magical would happen and it would all get fixed by the time it was over.”

  My friends’ mouths are still open, their eyes huge with astonishment.

  “Maggie, that’s terrible,” Kathleen says. “Your mom is still planning the wedding?”

  “I know.” I drop my face into my hands. “I’m a terrible person! But what can I say? This is what a nervous breakdown looks like. It’s not pretty. There are casualties. Collateral damage. Don’t make me feel worse.”

  “It would be worse if your mother wasn’t your mother,” Haley says. “I do hope I’m there when you tell her. Something about seeing that woman not get her way brings me a distinct amount of joy.” Her plump red lips form a wide oval. “You’re telling us that your mother is still planning this wedding at her country club, and she has absolutely no idea that Jake supposedly married someone else today?”

  I nod.

  “Maggie, the invitations will be sent soon.” Haley is ever worried about proper etiquette.

  “Like I said, I was going to tell them eventually.”

  “When?”

  “In my defense, would you want to tell my parents bad news? Bad news of any kind?”

  “Well, no,” Kathleen says. “But when were you planning on telling them any of this?”

  “I was thinking about the rehearsal dinner. When Jake doesn’t show up, I’ll just say—”

  “The night before the supposed wedding? You cannot be serious.”

  “I thought I’d have their sympathy then, at least. I was going to tell them I was caught up in my deadline and—”

  “The deadline for the book you haven’t started, you mean? Maggie, who are you? When did you become a pathological liar?”

  “That’s easy. When my parents asked me anything about my dating life. What sane man would want to marry into my family?”

  My friends’ faces say it all. There is no excuse for what I’ve done. None at all, and my excuses don’t hold water.

  “Did you ever think what might happen if Jake’s wedding announcement gets put in the newspaper before you tell your parents?” Haley asks.

  “Well, not until now!” I wail. “Besides, he’s not that organized, and you know Tinkerbell isn’t,” I say emphatically. “I believe shotgun weddings don’t usually have formal announcements in the society page, but I could be wrong in this one instance. Jake does like the spotlight.”

  Jake and Anichka weren’t getting married in a shotgun wedding. In fact, they were getting married at my church. Well, what used to be my church until Jake came in and charmed the pastor into believing he was the next missionary to the scientific world. This was the church I’d been at since my junior high years. I’d brought Jake there and introduced him to everyone, and soon he was leading the men’s ministries at the midweek studies. The long and short of it is, in the breakup, Jake got the church and our wedding plans.

  My pastor told me it was selfish of me to keep them from getting married in my church and that I’d misunderstood the gospel in terms of God’s plan for marriage. Apparently somewhere in his Bible it says that men can do whatever they like and women should be subservient and step aside. Especially if the man in our story falls in love with someone younger and prettier. I think that betrayal hurt worse than Jake’s, if I’m honest. The pastor’s misinterpretation of Scripture was soul damaging.

  “You can’t let the invitations go out, Maggie. It’s fraud, and you’re in enough trouble at work. You’ve got to clear this up. Your fiancé will have been married to someone else by the time those invitations are sent. There will be no hiding the fact that you lied to your parents, and it can harm your credibility at the university.”

  “Details,” I stammer. “I’m not running for office. I simply got dumped and then lost in my research. I didn’t lie. I just never told them that the wedding was off and that my engagement ring was now an expensive paperweight. Details, schmetails.”

  Haley looks stunned, and the shame I feel with the way she glares at me is palpable. “As long as I’ve known you, Maggie, you’ve never so much as had a late library book. How is it you’ve managed to screw up your entire life in two short months?”

  “She is a perfectionist,” Kathleen interjects. “Maggie never did anything halfway. If she’s going to screw it up, she’s going to screw it up big-time.”

  Judging by my friends’ reactions, it is as bad as I thought. It occurs to me that I could simply get off this ship of fools at the next stop and disappear into the Mexican jungle. That would solve everything.

  “After your speech, we’re calling your parents and telling them there’s no wedding in March,” Haley says. “Tomorrow we’re fixing your career, and this entire debacle will be nothing more than a forgotten detour, you got it?”

  “If this were a Hallmark movie,” I say ent
husiastically, “I could meet someone. They would fall madly in love with me and we’d be married in March as scheduled. I could just say there was a typo on the invitation and that I’d misspelled the groom’s name.”

  Kathleen gives me a death stare. “Sure, Maggie, that could happen.”

  “Please be nice to everyone tonight,” Haley says. “No more of those pointless arguments like you had with that poor guy at check-in.”

  “Sam,” I remind her. “His name is Sam Wellington. I met him again on deck. He’s what we in happiness science know as the archetype for the nihilist—he’s anti-happiness. No joy in the present, lost all hope for joy in the future. Like he walks around with a rain cloud following him.”

  “See?” Haley says. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Why do you have to judge that poor guy? You know nothing about him and you’re calling him a nihilist? Incapable of happiness? That’s a tad harsh. Didn’t you notice the way he looked at you? He asked you to coffee! I stood there while he asked you right over the top of my head. And I’ll tell you, if you’re not into him, I totally call dibs.”

  “He’s a buzzkill at the very least. I was just starting to feel enthusiastic, then he has to go picking on smart women. You can’t just stereotype all women with a certain IQ like that. Some smart women are happy.” Just not me at the moment, and I’m certain my intellectual capabilities are being questioned by a lot of folks at this point. “Do you think he’s sadistic?”

  “Maybe he’s analytical like you and hands out facts like candy.” Kathleen turns to the door. “And in his defense, we, who know you best, questioned your intellect the entire time you were dating Jake.”

  7

  Avoiding negative emotions does not make one happier. Dealing with negative emotions is essential to mental health.

  The Science of Bliss by Dr. Margaret K. Maguire

  THE SHIP’S DINING ROOM IS EXTRAVAGANT and three floors high—it reminds me of the library scene in the animated Beauty and the Beast, and I want to dance through the tables and sing. Spirals of staircases and filigreed wrought-iron rails wind their way up elegantly to the different heights and give the impression of a grand castle or a French cathedral. Stately Roman columns connect the elegant levels. Our table is located on the first level underneath a colossal cut-crystal chandelier. Around the table are six royal violet velvet chairs. There are only three of us.