It's a Waverly Life (10 page)

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Authors: Maria Murnane

BOOK: It's a Waverly Life
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After a restless night, I woke to the sound of my phone ringing. I grabbed it, hoping it was Jake.

It was Andie.

“Hey,” I said groggily. “Are you back? And why are you up?” It was barely nine o’clock. Andie never got up early on the weekends.

“I got back last night. Wanna grab brunch? I woke up early craving blueberry pancakes.”

I yawned. “Okay, sounds good. Curbside Café at ten? I need to take a shower.”

“Done. See you then.”

I hung up the phone and lay back on my pillow, closing my eyes and reliving the previous night’s conversation with Jake. After a few minutes I threw the covers off, then sat up and swung my legs onto the area rug laid over the hardwood floor. My legs felt heavy and weak, just like my heart. I stretched my arms over my head and yawned again. Maybe a shower would help.

 

“I have news,” Andie said just seconds after I sat down across from her.

I looked up from the menu and raised my eyebrows. “News? Do tell.”

As soon as she caught my eye, she could tell something was wrong. “Hey, are you okay? You don’t look very good.”

I sighed. “That’s because I’m not very good.”

“What’s up?” She reached across the table and put her hand on my arm. Andie wasn’t touchy feely like McKenna, so I knew I must look like crap.

I tried to smile. “I’ll tell you my news after you tell me yours, okay?”

“You sure?”

“Definitely. Your stories always cheer me up.”

“Okay, deal. So are you ready?”

“Let’s hear it.”

She grinned. “I met a guy.”

“Really? Where?”

“At the conference. It was crazy.”

“I’m sure it was. Details please.”

After ordering, Andie turned to face me and spread her hands on the table, her eyes open wide.

“Okay, so the third day we were there, a bunch of us from my firm were at dinner when my coworker Alyssa suggested we do a round of shots and head out to a karaoke bar.”

“Shots and karaoke? This story can only go downhill.”

She laughed. “I know, I know. So we all did a tequila shot, right there at the dinner table. Then we went to a random karaoke bar, where we ended up mixing with a big group of other people from the conference. There were so many of us that we basically took over the place.”

“Nice.”

“Everyone totally sucked at karaoke. I mean
sucked
. Of course I was laughing at how bad they all were—you know how much I love to make fun of people.”

I nodded. “It’s one of your best qualities.”

“Then this guy standing next to me called me out for mocking everyone, and dared me to go up there with him and do better.”

The waiter served us our coffee. I turned mine into a milk-shake with cream and sugar. “Okay, keep going.”

She pushed her hair behind her ears. “So we got up on stage and sang ‘Islands in the Stream.’”

“‘Islands in the Stream’? As in Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers?”

“We were awful, Waverly.
So
awful.”

“How could you
not
be awful? I mean, ‘Islands in the Stream’? Yikes.”

“It was hilarious, but so much fun. Afterward, we went back to the bar and started chatting. And before I knew it, it was two in the morning, and the bar was closing.”

“Awesome. So you hooked up with him?”

She shook her head. “If you can believe it, we said goodbye, and I went back to my hotel to sleep for like four hours. The next day at the conference was a bitch, by the way.”

“I know that feeling.”

“But it was so
weird
, Waverly, I mean, I really clicked with this guy. I think I would have hooked up with him if I hadn’t. Does that make sense?”

I laughed. “That’s so twisted, but I know exactly what you mean.”

“So anyhow, the next day I ran into him at the conference, and we ended up having dinner that night.”

“Nice.”

She added sugar to her coffee and stirred it. “We went to this cute place in the Gaslamp Quarter, had an outrageously unhealthy dinner, and chatted about…
everything
. He’s really interesting. And it was almost like hanging out with you and McKenna, that’s how comfortable I was with him. Then after dinner, we strolled around and made fun of all the muscle people.”

“Muscle people?”

“Have you ever been to the Gaslamp Quarter in San Diego? If so, you’d totally understand.”

“A lot of big hair? Overly tan people, men in tank tops, women wearing banana clips? That sort of thing?”

She snapped her fingers. “
Exactly
. For such a small area, it’s got to be one of the top selling markets in the world for acrylic nails. I loved it.”

“I’ll put that on my list of places to visit.”

She lowered her voice. “I think I like him, Waverly. Like
like
him, like him.”

I smiled. “Are you going to see him again? Where does he live?”

“He’s from Nebraska, but he lives here. Isn’t that awesome?”

“No way. He lives
in
San Francisco? Or just near here?”


In
San Francisco.”

“Wow. What are the chances?”

“I know, can you believe it?”

I leaned back in the booth. “That’s really great that he lives here, Andie. Because trying to get a relationship off the ground long distance is…brutal.”

“Oh no. What happened with Jake?”

I sighed.
I might as well just come out with it
.

“Well, let’s just say that Mackie might not be the only one wearing mom-to-be jeans around here.”

“WHAT?!”

I leaned across the booth and put my hand on her mouth. “Shhh, you’re screaming.”

She lowered her voice. “Holy frick, Waverly, you’re pregnant?”

“No, no, I don’t know for sure, I’m just…late.”

“How late?”

“Um…Eleven days?”

“Oh Jesus.”

“I know.”

“Are you normally late?”

“Never.”

“Did you guys use protection?”

“Yes.”

“Have you taken a pregnancy test?”

“I bought one yesterday, but it’s still sitting in my apartment.”

“Did you tell Jake?”

I picked up a paper napkin and started tearing it into pieces. “I was going to last night.”

“And?”

“I called him, but before I could say anything he told me that his sister, who was like eight months pregnant, had just lost her baby.”

Her eyes got big. “No way.”

I kept tearing the napkin. “He was so upset, so I just…I just couldn’t bring myself to say anything.”

“Holy hell.”

“I know.”

“What are you going to do?”

I put my elbows on the table, then put my face in my hands. “I don’t know.”

“The first thing you need to do is take that test. You have to find out.”

I looked up at her, red-eyed. “But—”

She threw some money on the table and stood up, grabbing my arm. “But nothing. C’mon, let’s go. You’re taking that test right now.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, you have to. And if it’s positive, you have to tell Jake right away. If that man is going to be your baby daddy, he has a right to know.”

“Did you just say
baby daddy
?”

“MTV, remember? Now let’s go.”

I left the mountain of napkin bits on the table.

 

“Well?” Andie said loudly through the door.

“Give me a minute. I’m peeing on the stick.”

“I can’t take the suspense. I can’t believe you and Mackie might be knocked up at the same time.”

“You and me both.” I zipped up my jeans and looked at the stick, which was now sitting on the sink. “Talk to me, stick,” I said softly. “Tell me what to do if I’m pregnant.”

“Are you talking to the stick?”

“Do I have to answer that?”

“You’re insane. Now get out here.”

I opened the bathroom door, stick in hand. Together Andie and I walked into the kitchen, and I set it on the counter.

“How long do we have to wait?” she asked.

I handed her the box, which said Five-Minute Pregnancy Test in huge letters on it. “That would be five minutes, Einstein.”

“Hey now, you’re barely pregnant and already all hormonal and mean. They have medication for that, you know.”

I snatched the box back from her. “Very funny.”

For the next few minutes we waited in silence, standing close to each other and hovering over the stick on the counter.

“For some reason watching this thing is making me think of those birds that fly into windows,” I suddenly said.

“What?”

“Haven’t you ever seen one of those little birds that doesn’t realize there’s a window there, so they try to fly right into your living room, and then
WHAM
, they hit the window and fall onto the ground and just lie there, and then you go outside and sort of stand over them for a minute, not knowing if they’re going to get up and fly away or not?”

“Are you insane? What are you talking about?”

I shrugged. “I’m just saying that that’s what this reminds me of. Sort of.”

“I really wonder about you sometimes.”

“Thank you for that. I totally needed to hear that right now.”

Suddenly she hit me on the shoulder. “I think it’s done.”

I picked the stick up and stared at it. “It’s blue. What does that mean? Am I having a boy?”

She grabbed the box and read the back.

“Blue…blue means….”

“Well?”

She looked at me.

“Well?”

She smiled. “Not pregnant. Blue is definitely not pregnant.”

I reached for the box. “Are you sure?”

“Read for yourself.”

I did, and she was right.

Suddenly I felt lighter. I sat down at the kitchen table and exhaled deeply.

I gazed at the table, saying nothing.

“I bet you get your period today,” she said.

I looked up. “You do?”

“Yep. Now that the stress is gone, it’ll come. Stress can really mess you up.”

Now
that
was an understatement.

 

A couple of weeks later, I entered the
Sun
building for the weekly staff meeting, officially without child. Andie had been right, and all was back to normal in the nether lands. I hadn’t heard from Jake though, and it was killing me. I’d e-mailed him once to say hi, trying to be as casual as possible while still letting him know I cared. I didn’t want to come across as desperate to talk to him, even though of course I sort of was.

He hadn’t replied yet.

I waved at Larry through his open door. He was on the phone and waved back, but he didn’t look as jolly as he normally did. Then I passed Ivy’s empty cube. She was in Kansas visiting her parents. When I got to the conference table, I sat down and pulled out my notebook. I was ten minutes early.

“Hey, Waverly, how’s it going?”

Nick was standing in the doorway wearing a brown V-neck sweater over a green shirt.

“No offensive shirt today?”

He held a finger up to his lips, then pulled up his sweater. Underneath his shirt said, “I Want to Be Your Baby Daddy.”

“Oh good lord.”

“Isn’t it amazing? Even
I
know this is too much for the office, though. Thus the grandpa sweater.”

I sighed and started drawing circles on my notepad.

“Hey, what’s wrong? I thought you’d love it.”

I ignored him. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I just didn’t want to talk to him about
that
shirt, not then.

“Waverly, are you okay?”

I hoped he couldn’t tell that I was on the verge of tears. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” I said without looking up.

“Okay, just checking, just checking. Chicks, man, I swear you’re all nuts.”

“Hey now, I am
not
nuts.” Although to be honest, at that moment I couldn’t be sure I believed that myself.

“Okay, fine, fine, you’re cool, I gotcha.”

I finally made eye contact with him. “I’m sorry, Nick. It’s not you. I just have a lot on my mind right now, and it’s stressing me out.”

“I completely understand. There’s a foolproof solution for that, by the way.”

I raised my eyebrows. “There is?”

“There is indeed.”

“What is it?”

“Alcohol. It’s God’s medicine.”

I laughed. “Nick, I think
you’re
the one who’s nuts here.”

“See? Made you smile. But seriously, let’s grab a drink after work. It’ll make you feel better.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t tonight. I have to work on my column.”

“What about tomorrow?”

I mentally scanned my calendar, which I was pretty sure was free. Andie was obsessed with Gaslamp Guy, so she was totally off the radar, and I hadn’t connected with McKenna in the last few days. I’d told her about the pregnancy scare, however. I couldn’t keep that from her.

“I think I could do that,” I said.

“Cool. Have you been to the Northstar? It’s right by my apartment.”

“The one in North Beach? On Powell?”

“It’s on Powell, but it’s in Prodromou Gulch.”

I squinted at him. “Prodromou Gulch? What’s that?”

“It’s a small but up-and-coming neighborhood nestled between Telegraph Hill and North Beach. There are some really cool bars over there.”

“Wait a minute. Isn’t your last nam…Prodromou?”

“Indeed it is.”

“Then what the…?”

He put one hand on the doorjamb. “Think about it, Waverly. Every neighborhood got its name somehow, right? You’ve got the Marina, the Tenderloin, the Mission, Russian Hill, Nob Hill, and new ones are popping up all the time. I mean, now we’ve got the freaking
TenderNob
, for God’s sake.”

I tried not to laugh. “TenderNob? As in the area between the Tenderloin and Nob Hill?”

“My point exactly. If people can come up with the TenderNob, why can’t I come up with Prodromou Gulch?”

“You
are
nuts. How exactly do you expect to get people to start calling it
Prodromou Gulch
?”

He pushed the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows and lowered his voice. “That’s where my genius comes in. I figured I’d place a few ads on Craigslist for apartments there. Maybe rate a few bars on Yelp, have my friends sprinkle a few comments on Facebook and Twitter. Plant some digital seeds, then step back and watch them grow.”

“That’s your genius plan?”

“Do you doubt me?”

I tilted my head to one side and thought about it. “That’s actually pretty creative.”

“Of course it is.” He patted himself on the back. “Okay, I gotta run. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

A few minutes later the meeting started, but I couldn’t focus on anything anyone was saying. I sat in silence and doodled aimlessly on my notepad, just like I used to do in high school. This time, however, instead of drawing hearts and sunsets, I wrote the same sentence over and over.

I miss you, Jake McIntyre.

 

That afternoon I had a call with Wyatt Clyndelle at Smithers Publishing, the company that managed the printing and distribution of my Honey Notes.

“Have you put any thought into new cards like we talked about?” Wyatt said. “Sales are steady, but some new cards would really help give the line some legs.”

“I’ve definitely been thinking about that.”

“That’s great news. Anything you’d care to share?”

“Actually, let me rephrase that. I’ve been thinking about thinking about that.”

He laughed. “What?”

“I know that sounds crazy, but I swear I have an idea brewing. It’s just in the very early stages, so early that I’m not exactly sure what it is yet.”

“Well, keep me posted. My ears are always open.”

“Okay, will do.”

I hung up and reached inside my desk drawer for a pad of sticky notes and a spiral-bound notebook. I wrote “HONEY BRAINSTORM” on a note and stuck it to the edge of my computer monitor.
Maybe that will help speed along the creative process.
Then I opened the notebook and began to jot down some thoughts, determined to bring life to the idea rolling around in the back of my head. After filling several pages, I reviewed what I’d written and smiled. It needed work, but I liked where it was going.

My brain was getting tired, so I decided to shift gears and spend some time on my column. When I put the notebook and sticky notes back in the drawer, I noticed the envelope with the mysterious red handwriting. I pulled it out and took another look at the lone sheet of paper inside.

Be

 

“Be
what
?”

I put the letter away and opened my e-mail, eager to distract myself with stories of lives other than my own. After scrolling through the bunch, I picked three to include in that week’s column:

 

 

Dear Waverly: Last night my boyfriend sat me down and told me he’d done a lot of thinking since graduating from business school. Apparently he wants to run his life like a Fortune 500 company, because he basically informed me that, while he does care for me, he doesn’t see a future for me within the organization. He laid out his case like a hard-core business plan, and then he laid me off.

 

 

My reply:
Honey, note to self: Don’t date MBAs unless A) you knew them way before they went to business school, or B) they work for a nonprofit. No offense to any other MBAs reading this, but you’re probably a little full of yourself.

 

 

Dear Waverly: Let’s see if you can top this. I went to a “date my friend” party last night, where everyone had to bring someone of the opposite sex they love but don’t LOVE. Built-in screening for cool people, right? So where was that filter when the girl I started talking to said she was studying colonoscopy, then added, with a freakish amount of energy, “I love the colon!” Okay then. I’m out.

 

 

My reply:
Honey, don’t go knocking the potential for free medical care. I agree, however, that professing a passion for the large intestine is a bit odd. But something tells me that if she’d been smokin’ hot, you’d have found her strangely attractive, as opposed to…just strange. Come on, you know I’m right…

 

 

Dear Waverly: I live up in Tahoe, right in Tahoe City. I went on a first date with a guy the other night, and it was really fun. He even called the next morning and wanted to meet for lunch, but I told him I couldn’t because my car was snowed in. Then he offered to come over and shovel my driveway for me. Flattered, I said, “You’d really do that for me?” And you know what his response was? He said, and he was NOT kidding, “Sure, why not? I could use the money.”

 

 

My reply:
Honey, you totally should have let him do it. Then, after he’d toiled long and hard to free your car from the snow, you could have driven away with an air kiss and said you’d pay him back by letting him kiss your ass.

 

 

I reviewed the column and laughed, already feeling better about my own romantic situation.

I was about to close the program when a new e-mail appeared in my inbox. As soon as I saw the sender’s name, my mouth went dry. I clicked to open it:

 

 

To:
Waverly Bryson

From:
Jake McIntyre

Subject:
re: How are you doing?

 

 

Hi Waverly, I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. It’s been an emotional trip, and to be honest I didn’t want to drag you into it. Just a hard time all around on the family. Nat’s doing better now, though.

 

 

You must be getting geared up for the big appearance on
The Today Show.
I know you’ll do great—you always do.

 

 

Take care,

Jake

 

 

I read the e-mail over and over again, then leaned back in my chair. I had no idea what it meant. It was hardly flirtatious, but it was definitely kind. I had to remember what he was dealing with, right?

I hoped I wasn’t grasping at straws.

After a few minutes, I sat back up and replied:

 

 

To:
Jake McIntyre

From:
Waverly Bryson

Subject:
re: How are you doing?

 

 

Hi Jake, I’m glad to hear things are going okay. Don’t worry about not being in touch. I completely understand that you need to deal with this right now. I’m thinking a lot about you though, and your family too.

Things out here are going well, and yes, I’m definitely nervous for my TV appearance next week. Here’s hoping I don’t trip on the way out to the stage. But if I do, please don’t post the video clip on Facebook.

 

 

Love,

Waverly

 

 

I hesitated for just a second, then hit
send.

 

The next evening I took a cab over to the Northstar to meet Nick for a drink. He was sitting at the bar when I arrived, and as I approached he stood up and majestically swept his arm across the room, as if showing me a lovely dining set I could win on
The Price Is Right.

“Welcome to Prodromou Gulch.” He did a little curtsy.

I curtsied back. “Why, thank you. It’s a pleasure to be in such an up-and-coming part of town, especially one that’s your namesake.”

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