Chapter Twenty-one
For Isabel, December moved at an excruciatingly slow pace. Work was insane, keeping her busy much of the time, which was helpful. Every moment that her brain wasn’t occupied was a struggle for air, and she was failing miserably.
Her heart ached and she wondered if she’d ever feel whole again.
She thought about Taylor when she woke up in the morning. When she took a moment between meetings to catch her breath. When she sat in the chair that used to be hers and felt like a total imposter. When she drove home at night and wondered what Taylor was doing and fought the urge to drive straight to her house and find out. Perhaps, the worst of all were the very vivid dreams of the two of them together that descended when she slept. With each morning came the harsh slap of reality once she remembered they were done.
But it had been the right decision. The attacks had recessed and that meant she’d find her footing soon, right? She’d return to a boring, mundane personal life, but one that would allow her to relax and exist without the fear of losing.
As the days crept by, she held out hope that things would get easier with time.
They didn’t.
She’d steered clear of the closet but missed her mentor, the woman so proud of her own pancakes that her smile reached from ear to ear, and who tickled Isabel behind her ear when she was interested in morning sex, and who could speak intelligently on just about any subject Isabel cared to name.
None of it mattered. She’d made her decision and would have to live with it.
“So, he just refused to say the line?” Autumn asked, taking off her Pajamas apron. “Actors can do that?”
Isabel nodded. “He wasn’t a fan of the word ‘pucker.’ I had a real close replacement for him once he held up production for over an hour.” It was close to nine p.m., and Autumn was in cleanup mode at the shop. Isabel followed her around the place like a puppy, needing someone to just…be around, keep her busy.
Autumn handed Isabel the dispenser for plastic stirrers and the box to refill it from. She set to work. “So, work’s awful. How’s the rest of you? Any better?”
She offered Autumn a wan smile, but the tears that seemed ever-present beneath the surface once again pooled. She pointed at her face and took a moment to get some air in her lungs. “Apparently not. Sorry.”
“Oh, sweetie. Come here.” Autumn held open her arms and Isabel moved into them, needing the contact, the comfort.
“I miss her,” Isabel managed to say.
“Of course you do.”
“It was the right thing, though,” Isabel said, for probably the hundredth time. Maybe if she heard it enough, it would somehow make her feel better. Autumn gave her a squeeze but didn’t say anything. Isabel pulled away. “It was. I know it was. It just sucks, the getting through this part.”
“Why are we crying?” Gia asked, blowing through the front door. “Is it too late for a cappuccino?”
“Iz still misses Taylor, and not too late. Give me two minutes and I’m your caffeine angel.”
“You’re my everything angel,” Gia said appreciatively.
“Flattery will not get you free coffee.”
Gia snapped her fingers. “Damn.”
Autumn finished refilling the dispenser herself, as Isabel had proven incompetent given the meltdown. “G, why don’t you tell Isabel your feelings about her ending things with Taylor.”
Isabel held up a finger. “I didn’t end anything.”
“Kinda did,” Autumn said, and headed behind the counter. “It sounds like you went over there and announced, without prompting, that you preferred your career to a future with her.”
Isabel shook her head. “It wasn’t exactly like that.”
“The fact that you had to emphasize the word ‘exactly’ is telling. Gia?”
“I’d rather not,” Gia said conservatively.
“Why not?” Isabel asked, pointing at Autumn. “This one doesn’t seem to have any problem laying it all out there.”
“Because you and I are cool.”
Isabel balked, tears still in her eyes. “So? Is your opinion really that inflammatory?”
Gia sighed. “I just think when you love someone, you love them, you know. So, I was surprised to see you—”
“I never said I was in love with Taylor.” True. She hadn’t said it. She’d refused to even think it, because the spot that would leave her in would be too precarious to fathom.
“You didn’t have to,” Gia said. “Whenever you said her name, you practically levitated. It was nice.”
“And then you wussed out,” Autumn said, with her back to them at the espresso machine.
Isabel whirled on her. “What did you just say?” But the steam from the machine drowned out her question by design. These two could tag-team her all they wanted, but no one seemed to understand that this had been about self-preservation and risk management.
Gia pointed at Isabel. “You know what? I’m gonna text Had. She’s better at this kind of thing. Softer touch.”
“Does she think I’m a wuss, too?” Isabel asked, incredulous. She only had to wait about thirty seconds to find out, as Hadley entered the coffee shop straight from work, decked out in a designer navy skirt and jacket combo.
“Well, hey there, everyone.” She flashed her phone at Gia. “Got your text. What’s up?”
That was Isabel’s cue to promptly burst into tears again. Something about Hadley’s presence, nurturing and kind and nonjudgmental, gave her permission to let loose. Kind of like when her dad picked her up from school after a particularly rotten day.
“Uh-oh.” Hadley’s arm was instantly around Isabel’s shoulders as she led her to a nearby table. “Is this what I think it’s about?” she asked soothingly.
Autumn and Gia nodded in unison.
Isabel continued blubbering. “I guess I’m a basket case, and no one knows what to do with me. Myself included.”
“Well, I do,” Hadley said, and handed Isabel a packet of Kleenex from her purse. “Because I think it’s important for you to know one very important thing.”
“Okay,” Isabel said and blew her nose loudly. “What’s the one thing?”
Hadley looked her right in the eye. “You’re going to be okay. No matter what has happened or will happen. You are going to be okay.”
Isabel took comfort in those words. “I will. And underneath all of this, I probably know that, but thanks, Had…it helps to hear it.”
“Now, you may not be over-the-moon happy, but you’ll get by.”
Okay, well, that sounded worse.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Hadley said, with a wave of her hand, “there’s a lot to be said for a mediocre existence.”
“Ouch.” Wasn’t Hadley supposed to be the nice one? Interestingly enough, she’d yet to lose her comforting, calm delivery. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re going to be just fine, but if it’s happiness you’re after, Iz, you’re going to have to learn to get out of your own way.”
“Hear, hear,” Autumn said, and then held up her hands in innocence when Isabel sent her a look.
“How am I in my own way?”
Hadley continued. “Instead of focusing on what matters, the fact that Taylor wanted to be with you and you wanted to be with Taylor, you let your own insecurities take over and call all the shots. You trusted that hateful voice inside your head that was sabotaging you more than you trusted the woman you love.”
Isabel stared at Hadley. “It’s not that I don’t trust Taylor.”
“It kind of is like that,” Gia said. “But I get that I’m not Had and don’t have the finesse she has.”
“Who does?” Hadley said, with a serene smile. Gia popped her lightly on the head as she passed. She pulled up a chair on the other side of Isabel. “That woman wanted you, not someone else, but you, and you decided for her that she didn’t. Or wouldn’t. Same thing.”
“There’s something I haven’t mentioned.” All eyes were on Isabel. She focused on the table as she spoke. “I’ve been dealing with these attacks. Panic attacks, most people call them. When they hit, I seize up and feel like the world is about to end as I sit there.” Hadley squeezed her hand. “They stem from insecurity, and being with Taylor brought on a whole lot of that.”
Autumn’s hand flew to her mouth. “That night in the car.”
Isabel nodded. “Yep.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything,” Gia said. “I dealt with those when I was a kid. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”
“Thanks,” Isabel said and flashed a smile. “Maybe someday.”
Hadley took it from there. “The problem is that you doubt yourself and you shouldn’t. We haven’t known you very long and we already know you’re awesome. In fact, we’re hanging on to you, in spite of your insecurities and enabling of Gia’s gaming habits.”
Gia shrugged.
“I think you guys are great, too,” Isabel said, with a small smile.
Autumn placed Gia’s cappuccino on the table. “Isn’t that your cue to break up with us, then?”
“Oh, man.” Isabel clutched her heart. “You’re awful, you know that?”
“I don’t mind being awful, if it means you’ll hear me.”
Isabel threw up her hands in frustration because it wasn’t like there was any going back now. She had the job and Taylor was gone. “What is it you want me to do?”
“Fix it,” Hadley said.
Gia nodded. “Fix it.”
“That’s three for fix it,” Autumn said, authoring a checkmark in the air.
“And what if all the insecurities, the anxiety attacks, what if they all come back?”
“Let me ask you this,” Autumn said, with a hand on her hip. “Is it better to work on losing the insecurities or lose Taylor forever? Because I know which I’d be trying to rid myself of.”
Isabel sighed, wondering which way was up. She ruminated on her friends’ advice as she stared up at the beveled ceiling above her bed that night. Though, as always, her thoughts shifted quickly to that time in her life when she was happier than she’d ever been.
It felt so very far away.
Maybe Hadley was right. Maybe this whole thing was more about working on herself, and not about running from what scared her. The question was, where in the world should she start?
*****
“Did you hear?” Kathleen asked, leaning her shoulder against the doorjamb of Isabel’s office.
“Hear what?” she asked, half listening, half glued to the email asking if she thought the leaves in the upcoming episode had to be green. She did. The episode took place in April. Apparently, that would cost another few thousand dollars. Really? For green leaves? She’d have to ask Emma about that one.
“That Taylor’s discreetly shopping around a new show.”
“She is?” Isabel asked, her attention fully snagged. “What show?”
“From what my friend at the network could tell, something about a former CIA woman.” Kathleen sighed. “Sounds intriguing. I’m wildly jealous.”
Isabel smiled and flashed to that perfect night on the beach, the night they’d fleshed out Taylor’s idea together as they walked along the boardwalk, and then again in the car after…well, after. She could almost smell salt in the air and feel the sea breeze against her face, the memory was that potent. Her smile wilted when she remembered that there would be no more nights like that one, as she wasn’t a part of Taylor’s world anymore. She would only hear these kinds of details from secondhand sources. “Good for her,” she said sincerely. She turned back to her monitor, fighting off the wave of emotion that threatened.
“Right? She’s gonna show all of ’em,” Kathleen said. “That’s what I think. I don’t know if you caught the ratings for Sister Dale, but now that Taylor’s episodes are airing, they’re up by a wide margin.”
“I did catch that. There’s no one like her.”
Kathleen glanced behind her and dropped her voice. “They were stupid to let her go. Just plain stupid.” For the rest of the afternoon, that sentence played on repeat in the back of Isabel’s mind. She daydreamed through most of the table read and found herself blindsided when Aspen pulled her aside. Up until this point, she’d kept their one-on-one contact to a minimum. She couldn’t stand the woman but had done her best to remain professional. Today, she felt like she might lose that battle.
“You’re doing a great job, Isabel. Have I told you that?” She batted her eyes, and Isabel cringed. The falsities hung off this woman like branches on a willow.
“No, I’m not, and everyone knows it.” As far as her job went, Isabel was making it up as she went along, doing whatever Emma told her to do, because her heart wasn’t in it. Her heart was elsewhere, and that became more and more apparent as the seconds ticked by and the larger world faded to the background.
“Well, I think you are, and I was hoping we could have lunch. Clear the air. Not sure if you saw the quote from me in the trades.”
Isabel had seen it. Aspen had told the press that the show had never been more exciting to work on and was running smoother than ever now that Isabel had taken over. At first, she’d allowed herself to feel flattered and rode the high of being a big fish. Then she remembered the duplicitous source and came crashing right back to reality. Aspen was not to be trusted.
Isabel shook her head. “There won’t be any lunches, no matter what you told the papers. Nothing even close to a lunch. Is there anything else? If not, I’m going to go stare at my wall and figure out how else I can be ineffective at this job.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Aspen called after her, because of course it was in her best interest to turn this thing around so she could return to star status in the eyes of anyone who’d been paying attention. “It’ll be great.”
Isabel couldn’t tolerate another minute of it. She turned. “No, it won’t be great. But you know what? You had great and you torpedoed it in the most malicious fashion. Every step of the way you took advantage of your position here.” Aspen’s eyes went wide, but Isabel wasn’t deterred. “You’re an awful person, Aspen. Awful. You should know that.”
Aspen’s expression turned to ice. There she was. There was the real Aspen. “I don’t know what’s come over you Isabel, but—”
“The only thing that’s worse than how awful you are is how awful I am, because I tossed her away, too. We’re both idiots. You’re just also a manipulative bitch, which must suck in the worst way. I mean, you have to wake up to yourself every morning.”
Aspen took a step forward. “You’re going to regret speaking to me this way.”
Isabel smiled calmly. “Trust me when I say I’m not.”
As she walked back to her office, the implication of what she’d just done hit her fully. Her throat constricted, the first sign of an attack. She braced herself until she was safely behind the closed door of her office and took a seat and waited.
Any minute now…
Only nothing happened. In fact, as time ticked by, she felt freer than she ever had in her entire life, liberated and ready to take on the world. She wanted to be a television writer, yes, but not under these circumstances. Not even close. Taking control of her situation had helped her avoid a colossal attack. If she could continue to plug away at the source of her anxiety, she could continue to conquer it one day at a time. This was a sign. There was hope for her.
She also knew that more than anything else, she wanted Taylor, needed her, and if it meant she had to serve up a hundred plates of fennel to a throng of angry diners, she was more than willing to do it. Bring on the fennel! How was that for taking control?
She was fired up now, on a roll. She threw a Rocky-style punch and cringed at how lame it would have looked to anyone watching. Uh-uh. No! She had to stop that. That kind of thinking was the opposite of what she needed right now. She threw another punch, harder this time, and smiled.
There were a few loose ends she needed to tie up on Water and then she’d be free to figure out just how she was going to undo the damage, wondering at the same time if that was even possible, then pointedly correcting herself, because anything was.