Miriam tied the belt on her raincoat and turned to say goodbye to her two cats, Saul and Sadie. Ever since Phil's death, she had felt especially grateful for their company. A house could never really feel empty when one had pets; they claimed the space as their own and made the house feel lived in. Miriam was shocked at her own bouts of loneliness. She had always assumed, since Phil was older than her, that he would pre-decease her. She'd known that she would miss him, but she'd expected to love the solitude and independence living alone would bring her. That had not really been the case. There were definitely moments when the quiet of her household felt nice and welcome, but more often than not, she filled the silence with the television in an attempt to stave off feelings of isolation. Phil had been a good companion. Miriam was not sure if he was what the girls today liked to refer to as "soulmate material," but he had made her life better and fuller and that had seemed like more than enough.
Miriam heard Sarah toot her horn and she locked the door and walked out into the rain to get into Sarah's red SUV. The logo for Sarah's Sweet Cakes was boldly painted on the car's sides with a delicious-looking graphic of a chocolate cake.
"Where should we go for dinner?" Miriam asked. Sarah, the foodie, was always in charge of their restaurant choice.
"I've got an idea, mom. Just sit back and relax and you'll see where we're headed."
Miriam did lean back in the large leather seat, but she could not relax. She loved her daughter, both of her daughters, but Sarah was a bit of a mystery to her. Abigail had always seemed more like Miriam. She took life by the horns and got things done. Sarah was the dreamer; she was more like her father. If life was the ocean, then Sarah was like a beach ebbing and flowing, expanding and diminishing, dependent on the powerful water's force acting upon her. That made Miriam crazy. It also made Miriam worry. Sarah had always seemed vulnerable to her, the fragile daughter. Even after all these years of mothering her, Miriam was still not sure how best to help her. She had tried coaxing. She had tried nagging. She had tried circumventing Sarah altogether and trying to steer her life for her. She had almost lost Sarah's love at one point, at least Miriam had felt that it was a possibility, but that was years ago now. Miriam and Sarah had both tried to put that period behind them, and usually they succeeded.
Sarah expertly pulled her SUV into a parallel parking space in a neighborhood of the city that Miriam was not very familiar with.
"Where are we?" Miriam tried to keep any hint of judgement or displeasure out of her voice, but this was not her kind of place.
"Relax, mom. You'll like it. I promise.Try to be open-minded." Sarah sighed audibly and Miriam realized, yet again, that their relationship was always going to be like walking on thin ice. Miriam decided to step carefully.
"It looks...interesting. What kind of food do they serve?"
"The menu's pretty eclectic. It just opened last week. The head chef trained in Paris after working for about fifteen years as a pediatrician."
"He went to medical school for all those years and then just threw it down the toilet?" Miriam could not keep the disgust from seeping into her voice.
"Yup. That is exactly what he did. Come on in, I'll introduce you."
As they walked in the door, they were greeted by a lovely young woman, who lead them to a cozy little booth in the corner. The restaurant was really lovely. Even Miriam had to admit that the ambience was both chic and comfortable.
As both women were reading through the menu, a tall and very attractive dark-haired man walked over to the table. Miriam looked up and seemed genuinely startled.
"Jeff? What on earth are you doing here?"
Sarah laughed and jumped up to give Jeff a hug. "I knew you'd be surprised, mom."
"How on earth did you know he would be here?"
"Mom, you are so clueless sometimes! This is Jeff's restaurant. He's the Doctor turned chef I was telling you about."
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Why must everything be a surprise with you?" Then Miriam got her bearings and stood up to hug this lovely man from their past.
Jeffrey Gordon had grown up in the house across the street from the Steinbergs. When he had first thought about becoming a doctor, as a high school sophomore, he had asked to shadow Miriam at work one week during the winter break. That went so well, that he became a regular summer intern for Miriam and the other doctors in her practice. She had heard, through the grapevine, that he had left medicine to pursue a culinary career, but since he'd moved to Seattle after medical school, Miriam had not stayed in close touch with him. Sometimes, she imagined that if she and Phil had had a son, he would have been a lot like Jeff. He was in school with Abby, but they never really hit it off, even though Miriam tried her best to throw them together whenever she could. Abby and Sarah used to joke that Miriam was grooming Jeff to be Abby's husband.
"I hope you're not too disappointed in me, Dr. S." Jeff slyly winked at Sarah as he said this, alluding to the earlier conversation that they had had about that very subject.
"I'll admit its hard for me to fathom," Miriam said. "All those years of training and then establishing your pediatric practice in Seattle. Seems like a lot to give up."
"All depends how you look at it. To me, I was just embracing the next challenge. I was pretty good at being a doctor, but the future felt very predictable. I guess you could say that I wanted to spice things up."
"Very fitting culinary metaphor," Sarah interjected.
"Listen, I really have to get back to the kitchen, but I've prepared a special tasting menu for you two tonight. My treat. And don't be too hard on me Sarah; you're years ahead of me in this cooking business."
"No worries. I'm just hyper-judgmental about desserts.
Jeff winked at her for the second time that night. "Good thing we only serve yours here then."
"What?" Miriam perked up at the mention of Sarah's business.
"That's right, mom. Sarah's Sweet Cakes is now the official puveyor of desserts for The Urban Appetite."
"What a lovely collaboration, you two. Okay enough talking now. Bring us some food, Jeffrey; I'm famished!"
Sarah was thrilled that the surprise had worked so well and she knew that Jeff was happy that they were there to support him. She was also happy that the restaurant looked full and the diners looked like they were enjoying themselves. She knew how picky people could be about spending their dining out dollars, and she hoped that The Urban Appetite would find a niche here. It would be fun to have Jeff close by again.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Sunday, June 17, 2012
CHAPTER FOUR
At Dr. Lingstrom's suggestion, Sarah had begun keeping a journal of her thoughts. In many ways, it was freeing. She could regurgitate all of her worries onto the blank page and then purge them from her thoughts. She had almost filled an entire journal writing about her childhood, and some of the memories that emerged surprised her. Dr. L said it was good to put everything out there and then give herself permission to move past it. That was the goal at least--moving past the past and living in the present, living free and unencumbered. The biggest hurdle to getting on with her life was still the Ted fiasco. Sarah knew that she had done lots of work already, with Dr. L. and on her own, to take the sting out of those memories and to forgive him. The last step, according to Dr. L., would be to forgive herself.
Sarah sat down on her purple velveteen couch, her favorite piece of furniture in her cozy little house, and began to write about the chapter of her life that she still found the most painful.
"When I met Teddy Kaplan, I wanted to like him. He had so many of the qualities I'd listed in my head under the title: IDEAL MATE. I wanted to like him, but something kept holding me back. Now, I grudgingly admit it was WISE SARAH, my intuitive inner voice, but it was easy to ignore her back then. I dismissed her by telling myself that I was always too cautious and that I wasn't getting any younger. Pretty soon, her nagging warnings got fainter and fainter and I could hardly make out what she was saying. But I digress, Ted was not really my type, but he was charming and he had his heart set on wooing and winning me. It was flattering to be the object of this very successful man's attention even if he was not exactly the man I would have chosen. He had great game. He was the only man I'd met who actually seemed best described by the word dapper. He was fluent in French and Italian and had lived abroad for two years after college. I learned to overlook his goofy red hair and his awkward overly wet kissing style. I tried to see his horribly written romantic poems as endearing. Hell, I was hearing my biological clock ticking so loudly in my head that reason and common sense were blocked out by the B*A*B*Y-tick-tocking in my brain. I might as well have been a car driving down the freeway at 100 miles an hour on cruise control.
Teddy had grown up in New York City and he wore the Big Apple like expensive cologne. He knew how to get the best seats at Broadway shows and which chefs were opening up new restaurants. I had only lived in Manhattan for a few months when we met, and he became my guide to this very enticing city. I guess that I was falling in love with NYC as much as falling in love with Ted; the two were probably interchangeable in my mind. It didn't hurt that my culinary school hours were grueling and, if left to my own devices, I would have come home to my depressing little apartment every night and collapsed on the tiny twin bed with bad springs. Ted rescued me from my reclusive tendencies and got me out into the city to explore and enjoy what it had to offer. I learned where to get the best cheesecake at two in the morning and which bar was frequented by the movie stars who had seen better days. He introduced me to sushi and pierogies. My stomach fell for him months before he had a chance at my heart.
So, this parts for you Dr. L. I really, really, really don't want to write about this, but I promised you that I would get this all down on paper, so here goes.
The marriage never felt right. Miriam planned a beautiful wedding but it was much more her taste than mine. Her friends loved it; mine kept giving me quizzical looks as they struggled to find the Sarah they knew under layers of white taffeta. There were roses everywhere; I prefer tulips. Don't get me wrong, I was incredibly grateful that mom and dad were so generous with everything; it just didn't really feel like my day. To add insult to injury, my inner voice, which had been conspicuously silent for the four months of the engagement, suddenly picked that day to come out of hibernation. I drank way too much champagne at the reception in a futile attempt to shut her up.
The honeymoon in Cancun was a nightmare. Ted decided to try every adventure sport they offered. He went hang gliding one day and waterskiing the next. Day three was parasailing and day four, deep sea fishing. Luckily, I had brought a few books and sat by the pool drinking Pina Coladas and getting a great tan. I alternated between feeling intense anger and incredible shame. What kind of bride can't even keep her new husband's attention focused on her during the honeymoon?
By the fifth day, I feared that I had made an awful mistake, but I became determined to try to fix it. Maybe, he was just more adventurous than I was, I rationalized. Maybe, he was acting out because he was nervous about the responsibilities of marriage. This didn't have to be a disaster, I thought. After all, plenty of people must have experienced disappointing honeymoons. That didn't mean the marriage was a dud. Right? I gave myself a pep talk and went up to the room where Ted was changing into dry clothes after his surfing lesson. When I walked up to the room, I heard voices and figured I was at the wrong door. No, the numbers said 2010. I laughed at myself. Of course it was the right room, Ted must just have the tv on. I put the key card in the door and pulled it open when the green light flashed. There is no polite way to say this, Ted was getting a blow job from the surf instructor. The male surf instructor.
So thats my sordid story. For a very short, but emotionally devastating period of time, I was Teddy Kaplan's unwitting beard. I think I screamed. When the unfortunate scene is replayed in my nightmares, Teddy's new friend gets so startled when I scream that he bites down and blood spurts out all over. In real life, it was not quite that dramatic. Ted jumped up and said the classic disclaimer: "Its not what you think." And I shooed both of them out of the room after throwing their swim trunks at them. I packed in about 10 minutes and left, and Miriam hired a wonderful divorce attorney.
That was fourteen years ago and I have dated sporadically since, but I am clearly gun shy. That's the best I can do, Dr. L. Now, can we move on?"
Sarah sat down on her purple velveteen couch, her favorite piece of furniture in her cozy little house, and began to write about the chapter of her life that she still found the most painful.
"When I met Teddy Kaplan, I wanted to like him. He had so many of the qualities I'd listed in my head under the title: IDEAL MATE. I wanted to like him, but something kept holding me back. Now, I grudgingly admit it was WISE SARAH, my intuitive inner voice, but it was easy to ignore her back then. I dismissed her by telling myself that I was always too cautious and that I wasn't getting any younger. Pretty soon, her nagging warnings got fainter and fainter and I could hardly make out what she was saying. But I digress, Ted was not really my type, but he was charming and he had his heart set on wooing and winning me. It was flattering to be the object of this very successful man's attention even if he was not exactly the man I would have chosen. He had great game. He was the only man I'd met who actually seemed best described by the word dapper. He was fluent in French and Italian and had lived abroad for two years after college. I learned to overlook his goofy red hair and his awkward overly wet kissing style. I tried to see his horribly written romantic poems as endearing. Hell, I was hearing my biological clock ticking so loudly in my head that reason and common sense were blocked out by the B*A*B*Y-tick-tocking in my brain. I might as well have been a car driving down the freeway at 100 miles an hour on cruise control.
Teddy had grown up in New York City and he wore the Big Apple like expensive cologne. He knew how to get the best seats at Broadway shows and which chefs were opening up new restaurants. I had only lived in Manhattan for a few months when we met, and he became my guide to this very enticing city. I guess that I was falling in love with NYC as much as falling in love with Ted; the two were probably interchangeable in my mind. It didn't hurt that my culinary school hours were grueling and, if left to my own devices, I would have come home to my depressing little apartment every night and collapsed on the tiny twin bed with bad springs. Ted rescued me from my reclusive tendencies and got me out into the city to explore and enjoy what it had to offer. I learned where to get the best cheesecake at two in the morning and which bar was frequented by the movie stars who had seen better days. He introduced me to sushi and pierogies. My stomach fell for him months before he had a chance at my heart.
So, this parts for you Dr. L. I really, really, really don't want to write about this, but I promised you that I would get this all down on paper, so here goes.
The marriage never felt right. Miriam planned a beautiful wedding but it was much more her taste than mine. Her friends loved it; mine kept giving me quizzical looks as they struggled to find the Sarah they knew under layers of white taffeta. There were roses everywhere; I prefer tulips. Don't get me wrong, I was incredibly grateful that mom and dad were so generous with everything; it just didn't really feel like my day. To add insult to injury, my inner voice, which had been conspicuously silent for the four months of the engagement, suddenly picked that day to come out of hibernation. I drank way too much champagne at the reception in a futile attempt to shut her up.
The honeymoon in Cancun was a nightmare. Ted decided to try every adventure sport they offered. He went hang gliding one day and waterskiing the next. Day three was parasailing and day four, deep sea fishing. Luckily, I had brought a few books and sat by the pool drinking Pina Coladas and getting a great tan. I alternated between feeling intense anger and incredible shame. What kind of bride can't even keep her new husband's attention focused on her during the honeymoon?
By the fifth day, I feared that I had made an awful mistake, but I became determined to try to fix it. Maybe, he was just more adventurous than I was, I rationalized. Maybe, he was acting out because he was nervous about the responsibilities of marriage. This didn't have to be a disaster, I thought. After all, plenty of people must have experienced disappointing honeymoons. That didn't mean the marriage was a dud. Right? I gave myself a pep talk and went up to the room where Ted was changing into dry clothes after his surfing lesson. When I walked up to the room, I heard voices and figured I was at the wrong door. No, the numbers said 2010. I laughed at myself. Of course it was the right room, Ted must just have the tv on. I put the key card in the door and pulled it open when the green light flashed. There is no polite way to say this, Ted was getting a blow job from the surf instructor. The male surf instructor.
So thats my sordid story. For a very short, but emotionally devastating period of time, I was Teddy Kaplan's unwitting beard. I think I screamed. When the unfortunate scene is replayed in my nightmares, Teddy's new friend gets so startled when I scream that he bites down and blood spurts out all over. In real life, it was not quite that dramatic. Ted jumped up and said the classic disclaimer: "Its not what you think." And I shooed both of them out of the room after throwing their swim trunks at them. I packed in about 10 minutes and left, and Miriam hired a wonderful divorce attorney.
That was fourteen years ago and I have dated sporadically since, but I am clearly gun shy. That's the best I can do, Dr. L. Now, can we move on?"
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Chapter Three
Miriam sat outside at a table overlooking the street and glanced at her watch for the third time in as many minutes. No surprise, Rona was late for their weekly lunch date. Rona was always late. Some of her friends considered it part of her charm; she did not want to be controlled by arbitrary rules like time. Miriam, however, did not find it at all charming. In fact, it irritated her more than she cared to admit. Nevertheless, the secret to her 71 year old friendship with Rona was that they celebrated the things they liked about each other, and they agreed to ignore the traits that annoyed them. Somehow, it worked.
Miriam casually waved the waiter away when he came out to check on her and continued to sip her decaf latte. She scanned the street for signs of Rona's bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle or, as Miriam called it, "her silly little buggie." Miriam had counseled her against buying it, suggesting that it was the equivalent of a tricycle for grown-ups. To Miriam, it looked like the car you drive until you're grown up enough to drive a real car. To make matters worse, Rona had recently had the logo for her non-profit painted on the side of her car in large orange letters: NMET (No More Empty Tummies). Just as Miriam was thinking about Rona's painted beetle, a city bus passed by with NMET's new public service campaign emblazoned on its side: BAKERS WHIP HUNGER'S BUTT!!! Miriam laughed and then felt that sense of motherly pride that she often experienced when one of her daughters managed to exceed her expectations of them. Sarah was behind this campaign. She had organized her fellow local bakeshop owners to donate day-old breads and sweets to neighborhood homeless shelters. Not to be outdone, a local chef decided to organize local restauranteurs to do the same. Rona was thrilled. It immediately raised NMET's profile in the city and also insured that many, many more kids would go to bed with a full tummy.
Miriam had always been a bit envious of the relationship between Rona and Sarah. There was always a special connection between them. When Sarah was really little, she couldn't pronounce Rona's name so she called her Rara and the nickname stuck. "I want to go to Rara's house," was one of Sarah's favorite refrains. On her bad days, Miriam sometimes wondered if Sarah would have been better off with a mother like Rona, a free-spirit who let life roll and flow to its own rhythm. Miriam had orchestrated every second of her daughters' lives, and when they were finally independent of her, she struggled to try to control their actions by offering unasked for advice on everything from boyfriends to careers to hairstyles. Just then, a familiar car horn tooted and jolted Miriam from her interior monologue. She looked up to see Rona's sweet face sticking out of the passenger side window of her yellow bug.
"Parking is a nightmare today! I've been circling for ten minutes. Have you been here forever?"
Miriam tried to laugh but her annoyance turned her chuckle into a grunt. "That's a bit hyperbolic, even for me. I'm just finishing up my 3rd latte."
A red pickup truck pulled up behind Rona's beetle and started honking.
"Yikes, I can't stay here," she said. "I'll head over to the outrageously expensive lot around the corner."
That was a private joke the two women shared. Every week, Miriam parked in the expensive lot while Rona circled the streets looking for one of the rare free spots.
A few minutes later, Rona swept up to Miriam's table and embraced her old friend in a warm side hug. Rona had always been the more affectionate of the women, and Miriam had learned to tolerate Rona's hugs.
"Just got off the phone with Sarah; she needs me to run over after lunch for a quick taste test. I guess that means I'll be skipping dessert."
Miriam felt a brief wave of jealousy that Sarah had called Rona instead of her, but it passed. "What's she working on?"
"Mini bundt cakes. Sarah thinks thats the new thing; she thinks they will be the new cupcake. She's working on some really cool flavor combos. I'm tickled that she wants to use my raspberry icing recipe."
"She learned everything she knows from you and Granny Sue."
"She learned a few things from you too, Mims."
Miriam shrugged and changed the subject. "Did she say anything about her date last night?"
"Dud."
"Doug?"
"No, Dave, but she'll never see him again. He was another dud."
"She's too picky. They can't all be that bad."
"He told her that he was recovering from a cocaine addiction. He had dedicated himself to making amends for all the wrongs he'd done in his younger years."
"Sounds admirable. He must be incredibly philanthropic."
"That would be one way to make amends. Sarah explained that Dave has a different idea. Because he said so many hurtful things to people while he was under the influence of drugs and alcohol, he's taken a self-imposed vow of silence every day from sun-up to sundown."
"Must have been a quiet date."
"They met at the restaurant at eight. It was already dark."
"Ok, so he's not the one. But what about all the others?"
"The frog to prince ratio is about 1000 to 1, Mims. You've never done this whole
internet dating thing, but I have. Trust me, its brutal."
"But you found Sidney on Jdate."
"I did and I'm grateful for him every day, but you're forgetting that I kissed a lot of frogs first!"
"If I remember correctly, you did a lot more than kiss them."
Rona gave Miriam one of her "drop it now" stares and changed the subject back to Sarah.
"Do you want to come to the tasting with me? The more the merrier!"
"Thanks but I've got a lot of errands to run this afternoon."
"Why are you so busy? You retired six years ago but you seem as busy as you ever were."
"I'm working on some projects."
"That's vague."
"You know me," Miriam said as she finished the last sip of her last latte. "I like to have my ducks in a row before I start sharing the details."
"I'm sure you'll surprise us all, as always, when you're good and ready."
Miriam stood up and motioned towards the interior of the restaurant. "I'd better head to the bathroom before I burst. Too many lattes."
"I'll order the usual if he comes when you're gone."
And then, in unison, both women said: "No croutons on the Chicken Caesar Salad!
One of the perks of a great friendship is that feeling that someone in the world knows you completely.
Miriam casually waved the waiter away when he came out to check on her and continued to sip her decaf latte. She scanned the street for signs of Rona's bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle or, as Miriam called it, "her silly little buggie." Miriam had counseled her against buying it, suggesting that it was the equivalent of a tricycle for grown-ups. To Miriam, it looked like the car you drive until you're grown up enough to drive a real car. To make matters worse, Rona had recently had the logo for her non-profit painted on the side of her car in large orange letters: NMET (No More Empty Tummies). Just as Miriam was thinking about Rona's painted beetle, a city bus passed by with NMET's new public service campaign emblazoned on its side: BAKERS WHIP HUNGER'S BUTT!!! Miriam laughed and then felt that sense of motherly pride that she often experienced when one of her daughters managed to exceed her expectations of them. Sarah was behind this campaign. She had organized her fellow local bakeshop owners to donate day-old breads and sweets to neighborhood homeless shelters. Not to be outdone, a local chef decided to organize local restauranteurs to do the same. Rona was thrilled. It immediately raised NMET's profile in the city and also insured that many, many more kids would go to bed with a full tummy.
Miriam had always been a bit envious of the relationship between Rona and Sarah. There was always a special connection between them. When Sarah was really little, she couldn't pronounce Rona's name so she called her Rara and the nickname stuck. "I want to go to Rara's house," was one of Sarah's favorite refrains. On her bad days, Miriam sometimes wondered if Sarah would have been better off with a mother like Rona, a free-spirit who let life roll and flow to its own rhythm. Miriam had orchestrated every second of her daughters' lives, and when they were finally independent of her, she struggled to try to control their actions by offering unasked for advice on everything from boyfriends to careers to hairstyles. Just then, a familiar car horn tooted and jolted Miriam from her interior monologue. She looked up to see Rona's sweet face sticking out of the passenger side window of her yellow bug.
"Parking is a nightmare today! I've been circling for ten minutes. Have you been here forever?"
Miriam tried to laugh but her annoyance turned her chuckle into a grunt. "That's a bit hyperbolic, even for me. I'm just finishing up my 3rd latte."
A red pickup truck pulled up behind Rona's beetle and started honking.
"Yikes, I can't stay here," she said. "I'll head over to the outrageously expensive lot around the corner."
That was a private joke the two women shared. Every week, Miriam parked in the expensive lot while Rona circled the streets looking for one of the rare free spots.
A few minutes later, Rona swept up to Miriam's table and embraced her old friend in a warm side hug. Rona had always been the more affectionate of the women, and Miriam had learned to tolerate Rona's hugs.
"Just got off the phone with Sarah; she needs me to run over after lunch for a quick taste test. I guess that means I'll be skipping dessert."
Miriam felt a brief wave of jealousy that Sarah had called Rona instead of her, but it passed. "What's she working on?"
"Mini bundt cakes. Sarah thinks thats the new thing; she thinks they will be the new cupcake. She's working on some really cool flavor combos. I'm tickled that she wants to use my raspberry icing recipe."
"She learned everything she knows from you and Granny Sue."
"She learned a few things from you too, Mims."
Miriam shrugged and changed the subject. "Did she say anything about her date last night?"
"Dud."
"Doug?"
"No, Dave, but she'll never see him again. He was another dud."
"She's too picky. They can't all be that bad."
"He told her that he was recovering from a cocaine addiction. He had dedicated himself to making amends for all the wrongs he'd done in his younger years."
"Sounds admirable. He must be incredibly philanthropic."
"That would be one way to make amends. Sarah explained that Dave has a different idea. Because he said so many hurtful things to people while he was under the influence of drugs and alcohol, he's taken a self-imposed vow of silence every day from sun-up to sundown."
"Must have been a quiet date."
"They met at the restaurant at eight. It was already dark."
"Ok, so he's not the one. But what about all the others?"
"The frog to prince ratio is about 1000 to 1, Mims. You've never done this whole
internet dating thing, but I have. Trust me, its brutal."
"But you found Sidney on Jdate."
"I did and I'm grateful for him every day, but you're forgetting that I kissed a lot of frogs first!"
"If I remember correctly, you did a lot more than kiss them."
Rona gave Miriam one of her "drop it now" stares and changed the subject back to Sarah.
"Do you want to come to the tasting with me? The more the merrier!"
"Thanks but I've got a lot of errands to run this afternoon."
"Why are you so busy? You retired six years ago but you seem as busy as you ever were."
"I'm working on some projects."
"That's vague."
"You know me," Miriam said as she finished the last sip of her last latte. "I like to have my ducks in a row before I start sharing the details."
"I'm sure you'll surprise us all, as always, when you're good and ready."
Miriam stood up and motioned towards the interior of the restaurant. "I'd better head to the bathroom before I burst. Too many lattes."
"I'll order the usual if he comes when you're gone."
And then, in unison, both women said: "No croutons on the Chicken Caesar Salad!
One of the perks of a great friendship is that feeling that someone in the world knows you completely.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
CHAPTER TWO
Sarah looked out the window of Sarah's Sweet Cakes and wondered when her real life was going to start. Then she laughed at herself for being overly dramatic. She remembered what Sean, the absurdly flexible 22 year old yoga instructor at her fitness club, always said at the end of class, " Today is the first day and the last day and the only day that matters." Living in the moment was definitely NOT Sarah's strong suit. Left to her own devices, Sarah's mind always wandered back to the past and far into the future, rarely stopping to rest in the NOW.
Dr. Lingstrom, her on again-off again therapist, helped Sarah understand that it had all probably started when she was a shy girl growing up with an overbearing mother and an attention-craving older sister. Sarah's natural shyness caused her to be the bread to their peanut butter and jelly, the ketchup to their burger and fries. Her dad was the milkshake that washed it all down, sweet and delicious but not the most essential part of the meal.
Sometimes, Sarah actually thought that she married Ted right after college because he made her feel like the star ingredient and not just another condiment. Now that strikes her as pathetically ironic since when he left, he managed to make her feel like yesterday's garbage. By the time people reach 40, they usually have at least one story and Sarah's was a doozy. Though she tried hard to re-write it or re-frame it, it remained the big event that had shaped her adult life so far. As far as defining moments go, Sarah thought, some people had it far worse than she did. Laura Allen, one of her closest friends in high school, had driven a packed car of girls home from a party and killed two of her best friends when she lost control of the car and drove off the road into a ravine. More than twenty years later, this was still Laura's story. As luck would have it, Sarah had been seconds away from catching a ride with them when Abigail showed up to drive her home as per Miriam's demand. Unfortunately, neither Abigail nor Miriam ever let Sarah forget that they saved her life that night. Somehow it all added to Sarah's innate feelings of unworthiness. Left to her own devices, she believed, she was always just a step away from tragedy.
Miriam's constant micro-management of Sarah's life had left Sarah feeling always off-center, as if somehow she had been born missing the self-protection gene.The very first memory Sarah can recall is a perfect example of this. Sarah remembers watching Abigail and Miriam bake cookies. Even then, Sarah was soothed by the smell of melted butter and brown sugar and the rich, life-affirming scent of fresh vanilla beans. The kitchen, painted a soft salmon color then, and now, had always been Sarah's favorite part of the house. On this lovely autumn summer day in Sarah's third year of life, she had been watching her mother and sister mix the batter for chocolate chip cookies. When they left the room, and the cookies were baking in the oven, she had wandered back into the kitchen and decided to help herself to one of the delicious- smelling cookies mid-bake. She pulled the kitchen chair over to the oven and climbed on top of it. Then she reached her hand to the oven and attempted to open the oven door. Suddenly a strange shrill alarm sounded causing her to lose her balance and fall off the chair. Miriam was at her side in an instant, soothing her bumped head and calming her jangled nerves. As it turns out, clever safety conscious Miriam had rigged a self-contrived contraption that would go off if the oven door was opened while the oven was turned on. Her goal was NOT to avoid cookie thefts but rather to prevent childhood burns. This early memory set the tone for Sarah's growing up years. Miriam was always there to ward off evil and accidents before they could hurt her precious daughters.
The warm domestic scene prior to Sarah's attempt to free a baking cookie from the oven was actually not a common occurrence in the Steinberg household. Usually, Granny Sue, who was their housekeeper not their actual grandmother, was the one doing the baking with the girls. Since most of their friends had moms at home, Miriam insisted that they call the housekeeper "Granny Sue" so that her connection to them would seem familial rather than mercenary. Often, Miriam tried to control the way others saw things. She wanted the mothers at the park to think that Granny Sue was genuinely fond of the girls and not just the hired help. Actually. Granny Sue WAS genuinely fond of the girls, and in many ways she was more like the kind of mother Sarah actually needed and wanted. Was that because of the way Miriam managed the situation? Was it because Miriam intentionally chose a housekeeper who complemented her own skills? Did Miriam's insistence that she be called Granny somehow insure that she would feel like a member of the family? Sarah often thought that her mother had some special magic, that she knew how to make the world conform to her wishes. Sarah was often envious of this skill; life rarely seemed to conform to Sarah's wishes. Of her top four wishes, she had received one(**), and that was due largely to Miriam's persistent intervention.
Wish Number One: Fall in Love (again) and Have a Happy and Successful Marriage
Wish Number Two: Become a Mother
**Wish Number Three: Open Up her own Bake Shop
Wish Number Four: Make Peace with her Life
Sarah's favorite teacher in high school had been a History teacher named Mr. Jones, and he was an Emersonian scholar --that is, he was obsessed with all things Ralph Waldo Emerson. The walls of his classroom had been covered with poster-sized Emerson quotes. Sarah loved the one that said: "NOBODY CAN BRING YOU PEACE BUT YOURSELF." Now, at 42, Sarah felt that Emerson was incredibly wise and his words were incredibly true. The trick, she thought, would be figuring out how to find peace before it was too late.
Dr. Lingstrom, her on again-off again therapist, helped Sarah understand that it had all probably started when she was a shy girl growing up with an overbearing mother and an attention-craving older sister. Sarah's natural shyness caused her to be the bread to their peanut butter and jelly, the ketchup to their burger and fries. Her dad was the milkshake that washed it all down, sweet and delicious but not the most essential part of the meal.
Sometimes, Sarah actually thought that she married Ted right after college because he made her feel like the star ingredient and not just another condiment. Now that strikes her as pathetically ironic since when he left, he managed to make her feel like yesterday's garbage. By the time people reach 40, they usually have at least one story and Sarah's was a doozy. Though she tried hard to re-write it or re-frame it, it remained the big event that had shaped her adult life so far. As far as defining moments go, Sarah thought, some people had it far worse than she did. Laura Allen, one of her closest friends in high school, had driven a packed car of girls home from a party and killed two of her best friends when she lost control of the car and drove off the road into a ravine. More than twenty years later, this was still Laura's story. As luck would have it, Sarah had been seconds away from catching a ride with them when Abigail showed up to drive her home as per Miriam's demand. Unfortunately, neither Abigail nor Miriam ever let Sarah forget that they saved her life that night. Somehow it all added to Sarah's innate feelings of unworthiness. Left to her own devices, she believed, she was always just a step away from tragedy.
Miriam's constant micro-management of Sarah's life had left Sarah feeling always off-center, as if somehow she had been born missing the self-protection gene.The very first memory Sarah can recall is a perfect example of this. Sarah remembers watching Abigail and Miriam bake cookies. Even then, Sarah was soothed by the smell of melted butter and brown sugar and the rich, life-affirming scent of fresh vanilla beans. The kitchen, painted a soft salmon color then, and now, had always been Sarah's favorite part of the house. On this lovely autumn summer day in Sarah's third year of life, she had been watching her mother and sister mix the batter for chocolate chip cookies. When they left the room, and the cookies were baking in the oven, she had wandered back into the kitchen and decided to help herself to one of the delicious- smelling cookies mid-bake. She pulled the kitchen chair over to the oven and climbed on top of it. Then she reached her hand to the oven and attempted to open the oven door. Suddenly a strange shrill alarm sounded causing her to lose her balance and fall off the chair. Miriam was at her side in an instant, soothing her bumped head and calming her jangled nerves. As it turns out, clever safety conscious Miriam had rigged a self-contrived contraption that would go off if the oven door was opened while the oven was turned on. Her goal was NOT to avoid cookie thefts but rather to prevent childhood burns. This early memory set the tone for Sarah's growing up years. Miriam was always there to ward off evil and accidents before they could hurt her precious daughters.
The warm domestic scene prior to Sarah's attempt to free a baking cookie from the oven was actually not a common occurrence in the Steinberg household. Usually, Granny Sue, who was their housekeeper not their actual grandmother, was the one doing the baking with the girls. Since most of their friends had moms at home, Miriam insisted that they call the housekeeper "Granny Sue" so that her connection to them would seem familial rather than mercenary. Often, Miriam tried to control the way others saw things. She wanted the mothers at the park to think that Granny Sue was genuinely fond of the girls and not just the hired help. Actually. Granny Sue WAS genuinely fond of the girls, and in many ways she was more like the kind of mother Sarah actually needed and wanted. Was that because of the way Miriam managed the situation? Was it because Miriam intentionally chose a housekeeper who complemented her own skills? Did Miriam's insistence that she be called Granny somehow insure that she would feel like a member of the family? Sarah often thought that her mother had some special magic, that she knew how to make the world conform to her wishes. Sarah was often envious of this skill; life rarely seemed to conform to Sarah's wishes. Of her top four wishes, she had received one(**), and that was due largely to Miriam's persistent intervention.
Wish Number One: Fall in Love (again) and Have a Happy and Successful Marriage
Wish Number Two: Become a Mother
**Wish Number Three: Open Up her own Bake Shop
Wish Number Four: Make Peace with her Life
Sarah's favorite teacher in high school had been a History teacher named Mr. Jones, and he was an Emersonian scholar --that is, he was obsessed with all things Ralph Waldo Emerson. The walls of his classroom had been covered with poster-sized Emerson quotes. Sarah loved the one that said: "NOBODY CAN BRING YOU PEACE BUT YOURSELF." Now, at 42, Sarah felt that Emerson was incredibly wise and his words were incredibly true. The trick, she thought, would be figuring out how to find peace before it was too late.
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