It's a Waverly Life (12 page)

The next morning I didn’t wake up in Kansas, but I did have a Texas-size hangover. I sat up in bed and put my hands on my forehead.
Ugh
.

“Damn you, Nick. And damn that mixologist too.”

I dragged myself into the kitchen and poured some ground coffee into the machine, laughing at myself and wondering how long it had been since I’d drunk so much on a school night.
At least I don’t have to go to an office right now,
I thought.
And at least I didn’t do anything stupid.
As I waited for the coffee to brew, I scrambled up a salty plate of eggs and cheese, then opened a cabinet and took out some Advil. After a moment I opened the cabinet again and pulled down a bottle of multivitamins, thinking maybe a mass infusion of nutrients would somehow help. It couldn’t
hurt
, right?

I gulped the pills down and headed down to get the newspaper. I hoped no one would catch me in my robe and slippers in the nine seconds it took to run to the lobby and back.

Of course I was wrong.

“Why good morning, Miss Waverly.”

I smoothed my hand over my hair and cursed silently. Red was walking down the stairs, dressed to the nines, as usual.

“Hi, Red, how’s it going?”

“I can’t complain, can’t complain.” He tipped his head slightly. “How about you?”

“I’m hangin’ in there.”
Hanging over there.

“Did you get through your…writer’s block?” The pause was slight, but noticeable.

“Yes, I did, thanks for asking.”

He smiled. “I had a feeling you would work through it.”

I took a step toward my apartment, then stopped.

“Red?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Why, sure you can.”

“How…how are you always so sure about everything?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, but didn’t say anything.

“I mean…you seem so…I don’t know…
optimistic
all the time. How do you do that?” I thought of all the e-mails I’d gotten from disillusioned readers, not to mention the uncertainty of my own situation. “Don’t you ever get down about how life is going?”

He smiled again. “My dear, your life is happening all around you, every day. It’s always going to be a puzzle, but the choice of where to put the pieces is yours,
always
yours.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Are you all right, Miss Waverly?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Thanks, Red. You’re right. I think I really needed to hear that.”

He tipped his head again. “Anytime, Miss Waverly.”

Back in my apartment, I poured myself a cup of coffee, then sat down to eat my eggs and read the paper. When I got to the word jumble, I thought of what Red had just said.

The choice of where to put the pieces is yours.

Before I could continue that thought, I suddenly remembered something.

I put down my mug.

Holy crap, I’d spoken too soon. I
had
done something stupid the night before.

I got up and ran to my phone, then checked my “sent” text messages and winced.

There it was, sent at 2:12 in the morning:

I miss you so MUCK?

Waberly?

I put my hand on my forehead.

Nice e-Waverly moment, loser.

At least I hadn’t mistyped
his
name.

I walked into my office, then opened my desk drawer and pulled out the mystery letter with the red ink.

Be

I thought again about what Red had just said.

Maybe I needed to just let things be?

I looked at my phone again.

Apparently that was easier said than done.

I flew to New York a day early in a futile effort to get over the jet lag—and accompanying puffy face syndrome—before my early morning TV appearance. I was having dinner with Scotty the night before the show, which gave me nearly a full day to explore New York on my own. I also had plans to meet my friend Kristina Santana for coffee. She was married to Shane Kennedy, the NBA player who had once been my client.

“How are you? It’s been ages!” Kristina stood up and gave me a big hug, then took a seat across from me on the plush green couch. I’d just come in from a chilly stroll through Central Park and was now defrosting in a cushy chair in the lobby of the equally cushy New York Athletic Club, an old-school establishment right on Central Park South.

“So tomorrow’s the big day. Are you excited?”

“I’m nervous, but definitely excited.”

She shooed my words away with her hand. “Please. You’ll do great. Don’t be nervous.”

“Ha, that’s easy for you to say. You skated on live TV in the Olympics. Compared to that,
The Today Show
is nothing. Hmm…actually, compared to that,
everything
is nothing.”

“Not true. Med school was way harder than the Olympics.”

I rolled my eyes. “Could you be any more perfect? Please tell me you have webbed feet or horrible cellulite or something. Throw me a bone here.”

She smiled and took a sip of her tea. “I’m not worried about tomorrow. You’ll do great. Just be sure to mention sex in there somewhere. Everyone loves that.”

I blushed a little bit. “Thanks, I’ll try to remember that.”

“So how’s life in San Francisco? I’ve been so busy at the hospital that I’ve lost touch with everyone and everything. Did you realize I’m not even on Facebook?”

“And thank God for that,” I said, suddenly wondering what Jake had for breakfast that morning. I hadn’t heard back from him after my drunken text message and had been too scared/proud/embarrassed to contact him again. “Life is interesting. Seems like there are a lot of babies in it right now.”

She gave me a look, and I held my hand up. “Not
me
, but McKenna’s pregnant.”

“Really? Good for her.”

“And for a week or so, I feared I was too, but I’m not, thank God. I actually took a pregnancy test, my first ever. Pretty scary.”

“I’ve done that. It’s definitely scary.”

I nodded. “
Terrifying
. I was seriously freaked out for a few days there. So what about you, are you knocked up too?” A prim, blue-haired lady sitting at the couch next to us turned her head in horror, and I pulled my neck in like a turtle.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Won’t happen again,” I said.

Kristina laughed. “Do I look pregnant?”

I lowered my voice. “Of course not. You are still my beautiful Olympian-turned-pediatrician friend with flawless skin. I should really hate you.”

“Thanks for not hating me. And
no
, I’m not pregnant. Shane’s on the road way too much to go there right now. Someday we’ll have kids, but not until after his basketball career is over, when he can really be there with them.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re waiting. I’ve had enough baby talk for a while.”

“So what’s going on with Jake? The last time I saw you, the two of you seemed to be getting along really well.” Kristina and Shane had attended McKenna’s wedding.

I smiled. “Yeah, we get along great.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Apparently so, given that you had a pregnancy scare.”

“This is true.”

“I sense a
but
.”

“Well…we get along great, we really do.”

“Still sensing a
but
.”

“But yes, it’s hard with the distance. And you know about my trust issues, not to mention my all-around insecurity issues, so I’m trying to take it slow.”

She sipped her tea. “How’s that going?”

“The issues thing or the taking it slow thing?”

“Both.”

“I’m doing my best to get over my issues. And I’m also doing my best to take it slow, just to let things happen at their own pace.” Then I laughed a bit awkwardly. “Okay, I flat-out admit that I’m not doing a very good job at either, but I swear I’m trying my best.”

She leaned over and squeezed my knee. “Hey, if you’re trying your best to make it work, then that’s all you can do.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“And if you’re
not
trying your best…” She pointed to the door. “You know my thoughts on people who hedge their bets when it comes to relationships.”

I laughed. “Oh yes, Miss Tough Love, I know. But I’m determined to try, because Jake is a really good guy.”

“Believe me, I know. Shane adores him.”

I do too,
I thought.

The next morning I woke up while it was still dark, tired but also jittery with nerves. At Rockefeller Center, I took the elevator up, tapping my fingernails against the walls as I gave myself a silent pep talk.
Remember what Andie said,
I thought.
No one I actually know is watching this
.

When the elevator door opened, I was greeted by a no-nonsense twenty-something dressed in a smart black pantsuit and equally smart black-framed glasses. Her jet black hair was smoothed back into a low bun. She reminded me of a young Michelle Obama.

“Waverly Bryson?”

“That’s me.”

She held out a hand and smiled. “I’m Donna Pittman, assistant to the stage manager. Welcome to
The Today Show
.”

I shook her hand, marveling at how put-together she was in the middle of the night, not to mention the dead of winter.
If I had that job, I’d probably show up for work in sweats,
I thought. Then I quickly realized that that is probably why I didn’t have that job.

I followed Donna in silence down a long corridor, admiring the many framed pictures of former
Today
guests on the walls. She stopped in front of a closed door and put her hand on the doorknob.

“This is the green room. You can relax here until Tina comes to touch up your makeup. Then I’ll come find you and take you to the soundstage. Sound good?”

For a moment I was tempted to salute, but for once my brain overruled my nervous system. I managed to eke out a nervous smile. “Sounds good, thanks.”

She smiled back and opened the door, gesturing for me to enter. Inside I noticed a woman seated on one of the couches. Judging from her stiff helmet of blonde hair, I guessed she was a former beauty pageant contestant. Donna poked her head in the door before she left and introduced me.

“Waverly, this is Wendy Davenport. She’ll be joining you on the segment. Please, help yourself to something to eat.” Donna pointed to a fancy breakfast spread, then left us on our own.

“Hi, Wendy.” I held out my hand and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Wendy glanced up from her magazine and half smiled. “Hello.” She took my hand but didn’t shake it. Instead her hand just lay there in mine, limp.

I did the best I could to salvage a handshake, then sat down on a couch across from her.
You’d think they’d teach handshakes in beauty pageant school,
I thought.

“Are you from New York?” I asked.

She shook her head and returned to the magazine.

Okay then
.

I stood up to inspect the breakfast buffet. I had just poured myself a steaming cup of coffee when the door opened. I turned around to find a short woman with frizzy red hair smiling at me from the doorway.

“Waverly?”

I nodded, and she motioned at me with her finger. “I’m Tina. Come with me. Let’s make you pretty.”

“I like the sound of that.” I grabbed a bagel and leaned down to grab my purse, then turned to Wendy to say goodbye.

She didn’t look up from her magazine.

“Bye, Wendy,” I said anyway.

About thirty minutes later, I was seated on a couch again, but this one was on the actual stage of
The Today Show
. It was far off to the right from where the anchors sat. According to Donna, we would be interviewed by a features reporter named Crystal Jennings. I was disappointed because I’d had a crush on Matt Lauer since high school and thought we might have a moment.
Oh well.

If it couldn’t be Matt, I wished Scotty were the one doing the interview. At dinner the night before, he’d reiterated that the piece would be short and sweet. “It’ll be a day at the beach,” he’d said. “A walk in the park.”

I shifted my gaze from Matt Lauer and Ann Curry to the rest of the studio, but I didn’t recognize a soul.
I wish I watched
The Today Show
enough to know who Crystal Jennings is,
I thought with a laugh.

Wendy sat down next to me, again with the half smile. I moved over on the couch and tried to get comfortable, then checked the tiny microphone attached to my dress.

Donna appeared out of nowhere, adjusting her headset. “Are you two ready? Crystal will be out in a minute.”

I cleared my throat. “I think so.”

Wendy said nothing.

“You’ll do great,” Donna said.

“Thanks, Donna, I hope so.”

Again, Wendy said nothing.
And she’s going to be on TV?
I thought.

Donna turned on her heel and disappeared into a sea of cameras and lights, leaving me with Wordless Wendy. I’d given up trying to get her to speak, so I inspected my fingernails in awkward silence until Crystal approached us a few minutes later. We both stood up, and Wendy’s face suddenly lit up like the sun.

“Crystal, darling, it’s soooo lovely to see you,” she said with an enormous smile. They hugged like long lost sorority sisters, and I raised my eyebrows.

“You look amazing. Did you get a new ring?” Crystal took Wendy’s left hand in hers to admire the enormous rock perched on the fourth finger. It looked like an ice cube.

“Just a little Valentine’s Day present,” Wendy said with a wink.

Crystal turned to me. “Waverly, it’s so lovely to meet you.” She seemed genuinely friendly, so I relaxed a bit.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” I smiled and extended my hand.

“So you two have met?”

Apparently sitting in total silence next to someone qualifies as
having met
, because Wendy and her huge crazy smile responded in the affirmative.

Crystal adjusted her microphone. “This should go really smoothly. A few quick questions for each of you, and we’ll be done. We’ll keep it lighthearted and fun.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Wendy said, again flashing the grin, which was beginning to freak me out.

“We’ll start shortly. Just wait for my cue.”

Suddenly my hands started sweating, and I felt a massive wave of panic course through me. I don’t think I’d ever been so nervous. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I could only hope stage fright wouldn’t render me completely frozen when the cameras turned on.

A few minutes later, a flash of bright lights filled the room. As Matt Lauer passed the figurative torch to Crystal, all I could think was that I hoped the nuclear glow wouldn’t magnify every pore on my face.