And the crowd loves her for it. There are fifty people in here by now, all going goddamn wild for her.
I succeeded. I showed myself; I told the truth. Yet I’d give anything to go up there and fail like she’s failing, with that kind of joy lighting me up.
I hang back on the way out to the parking lot.
McHuge waits for me. “You made a real breakthrough tonight. I hope you feel good.”
“It was fun.” I don’t sound like I had fun.
McHuge looks down at me from Mount Olympus, or whatever altitude his head resides at. “You’re judging yourself.”
Self-judging is one of the many improv sins. That was in my scenario with Tobin. “It’s rude to read people’s thoughts, McHuge.”
He snorts, amused. “Every beginner fixates on what went wrong. Don’t forget what went right. You took a risk. You got some real laughs. You warmed up the audience for everyone else,” he says, ticking things off on his fingers. “It looked like you were living your truth up there. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up, because it’s paying off.”
I thought my scenario with Tobin hadn’t helped anything—not improv, not our marriage—but here’s McHuge saying it did.
Does it feel good because I’m a sucker for praise? Because it gives me hope I’m on the right track? Or is it because I have a reason to make another improv date with Tobin?
I thought our love had died, a fire doused by days of unexpected, unending rain.
But under the ashes, something still glows. And Tobin’s thestubborn one trying to feed it, while I’m torn between missing its heat and fearing its warmth is keeping me from discovering my own inner flame.
Tobin texted me earlier with a bunch of possible dates and times for our next scenario. Very businesslike. Flat. Not like him at all. I didn’t expect bland courtesy to be the rogue wave that swamped my heart with regret, but… yeah.
I pull out my phone.
Hope you didn’t leave the bar because I was there. Does Tuesday at 8 work for you?
I hesitate, then open my Calendar app.The Second Chances Handbook. Tuesday, 8 PM.
Chapter Ten
SCENARIO 2: SAY SOMETHING
The act of talking to a sympathetic listener can clarify feelings you’ve kept inside. Listening and responding to a partner’s words brings energy to a scene and opens connections.
In troubled relationships, breaking a habit of silence can be very difficult. Talking is harder than texting. It pushes us to think fast, and it doesn’t have a backspace key. You may be tempted to self-edit so completely you end up saying nothing at all.
For your second scenario, ease the transition from text to talk with some distance. Instead of talking face-to-face, phone each other (try not to be in a shared space, ifpossible—be far enough away not to run into each other). Invent a situation where your characters have to talk. What would a character in a marriage like yours say, if they knew someone would listen? What have your characters been holding inside, and why?
—The Second Chances Handbook
It’s snowing.
It was supposed to rain, but spring in Grey Tusk always has one last “fuck you” tucked into her bra. Tobin can usually predict snow, but an unexpected north wind defied his weather sense, bringing wet flakes that melt on contact with the ground.
I yank off my stupid nylons (tolerance for uncomfortable corporate clothing choices being a prime leadership skill) and throw them on the floor of my parents’ bedroom.
The after-work team-building hour was “optional,” ha. I don’t love events organized around informal conversations I don’t know how to join. Or leave. Usually I lurk in a corner, giving off a high-pitched sound that tells front-of-house people to stay far, far away.
But today, I was on a mission: show I belong at West by North, and get the promotion to prove it. Emboldened by my questioning success with Sharon, I nursed a non-alcoholic gimlet and barged around, spewing inquiries in all directions.
Right away, I failed. My mistake was picking someone I knew as my first target, thinking Dick Head would like to debrief our karaoke victories. Barely a minute later, he said, “Oh, look, there’s Naheed.I’mgoing to go talk to him.”
After a mini breakdown in the bathroom, caused by non-joyful failing, I was able to rally with a new mandate: random questions for randomly chosen people.
The good thing about random questions is nobody sees themcoming. People are too shocked to do anything but answer. It’s a networking sneak attack.
