On a related matter, the lady who is writing my story met with her writer's critique group and they want to see more snarkiness from Diva. That should be fun. Upon hearing about this, Diva is rumored to have replied, "Snarky? Moi?" and then unleashed a maniacal laugh. So, stay tuned. Those "revisions" are going to be fun to make!
The following scene takes place between me, Jane, and my office friend Patti at a bar, where interesting morsels of info are revealed:
“I don’t want to date anyone now. If I find a real job, I’ll have to move anyway. It’s not really worth the trouble.”
“Trouble, huh? Who have you been dating?” Patti asked.
“Nobody that interesting, and nobody here,” I said, cutting off that discussion. In the world of office gossip, if someone gives up one little bit of information, it can get reinterpreted, repeated, and recycled. “What will we do about you?” I asked, turning the conversation back to her. “How did you rate your relationship with Andy? Was there a real connection?”
“Yes!” she said. “We got along great! I miss him so much now. I don’t know what I’m going to do, and the thought of finding someone else... Omigosh, I’m going to die alone in this god-forsaken town!” she said, holding her head with her hands. Her formerly immaculate hairdo was in the process of falling apart.
“No you won’t. You’re too together for this place. You can move anywhere and work, can’t you?”
Her eyes were sad for a moment. “I hope so. Honestly, the state of the company seems to be a bit... shaky.”
“What? You can’t be serious. People have been buying houses left and right. And now the prices are falling.”
“Yeah, they were buying,” Patti said. “Six months ago, if they’d hired you, you would have made more money and had benefits. But, not anymore.” She looked around her, as if spies were lurking at the nearby barstools. “Weird stuff is going on now. They’ve come in and changed what I do, made my job a lot harder than it was before. It makes me wonder.”
“What?” I asked.
“If I was doing what I was supposed to be doing before.”
“Oh, shit! Really?”
“I think I’m just being paranoid, but you never know. Don’t say anything to anyone,” she said.
“If anyone asks, I know nothing,” I told her. “Although that does not sound good.”
Patti finished her drink and looked over at me, obviously ready to change the subject. “But I really wanted to ask you, woman to woman: what should I do to get Andy back? Because I’m not going to meet anyone worth a shit around here.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want? I mean, if he wasn’t making an effort before, what kind of husband would he be? Lazy? Barely interested in you? It doesn’t sound like a great plan to me, honey.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but I’d like to get married and have kids. He’s a decent-enough guy, and we get along. Fairy tales are just that, Jane. But I had someone real.”
“Of course, nobody’s perfect,” I said. But that sounds so bleak, I protested inside.
“But what can I do?” she asked. “I feel so powerless.”
“Oh, that? That’s easy. Make him wish he was with you. Make him jealous. Make yourself busy but not too inaccessible. He’ll be around in no time. And, if you can manage it, call him from a hot tub while you and your friends are partying in some exotic location. Seriously. A friend of mine won over her estranged boyfriend forever when she called him from Woody Harrelson’s hot tub in Miami. They got married! She and her boyfriend, I mean. Not my friend and Woody Harrelson.”