Page 81 of Phishing for Love
What I don’t say out loud is that all this time my energy has been spent building walls to keep Aaron out of my mind. Only, I realize now, the greatest threat isn’t Aaron.
Just like the Roman empire, which crumbled because of corruption and danger from within, I am my biggest threat. I’m the person I don’t trust to keep Aaron out. I’m the one in danger of knocking down the walls to let him in.
“If that’s what you want, then I’ll respect your choice,” Sofia says, and I hear her quiet apology laced in with the admission.
Kenzie points a warning finger at Sofia. “No more badgering Tess.”
Sofia looks a little sulky. “Fine.” Brightening, she retrieves a storage container full of sewing pins from her bag. “Now let’s do damage to Calvin.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A week has passed since Bulldogate (Sofia’s nickname, not mine) and my punishment is to be stuck in the birthing canal. Literally. Despite receiving the severest of tongue lashings from Calvin, I knew—in the same way farmers and fishermen feel an approaching storm in their bones—that more punishment was coming my way. I was right. Three days after the ill-fated email, Calvin summoned me into his office and let me know he was pulling me from humor and assigning me to pregnancy and births. Me. A childless, twenty-eight-year-old semi-workaholic.
I know cards celebrating pregnancy and babies, along with birthdays and weddings, are our most popular categories, but they’re not popular with me. Probably because Calvin likes these cards to be corny and sentimental. And while I’m a pretty versatile writer, I’ve always leaned more toward the sarcastic than the sentimental.
“Channel your motherly instincts, Tess,” Calvin instructs me, no doubt seeing the complaint on my face. “Write cards that will make me cry.”
I Quit.
There, that ought to do it.
But I cannot afford to make impulsive decisions when there are bills to pay, so I give my boss an I-got-this nod and trudge back to my cubicle.
I received the awful assignment Friday. It’s now Wednesday, and I fear I’m about to be fired because I can’t seem to overcome the dreaded blank page.
The only person I know who has a small child is Kate. I’ve put off messaging her, but I’m desperate for inspiration. Hopefully, she can help me.
Tess:What was the best part of your pregnancy?
Kate:When it ended.
Tess:Was giving birth a beautiful experience?
Kate:If you enjoy your vagina being ripped apart, then yes.
Tess:Your fondest memory of Lisset as a baby?
Kate:When she grew out of it.
Clearly, Kate is no help. While she’s always treated Lisset like a miniature adult, I know there’s a sweet mothering bone buried deep inside her. Just six-feet-under deep.
I try the Creative Room, but it’s too filled with the memory of Aaron. And trying to think about a pregnancy message with Aaron filling my head feels weird and dangerous. I hightail it out of there.
I need another approach, something completely different. What if I channel some cheeky humor into the cards? Cracking my knuckles, I free my imagination from Calvin’s mawkish restraints and after a couple of hours I’m able to come up with a few ideas:
Congratulations on your pregnancy! You are now a lifetime member of The Kegel Club.
Congratulations on the end of your life as you know it.
Congrats on the arrival of your mini dictator.
Welcome to a world of poo, pee, and pain.
Congratulations on your pregnancy! Now you get to experience a tennis ball passing through a straw.
I send them off to Enya, who promptly rejects them all.
“Calvin doesn’t want vulgar humor, Tess,” my editorial manager explains. “He wants serious and soppy.”
