the Chick.” I’d had the copy mailed to me at work, since the cover with its Indian bride and groom crossed out would certainly cause a scandal. I didn’t need my parents sniffing out the anti-arranged-marriage propaganda, so the less they knew the better. I paused for a moment to cradle the book in my hands. I also smelled it, hugged it, and felt it up a little. I’d been doing this a lot since it arrived last week, and aside from my cat Tommy, I’d never loved anything more. The quest to fall in love seemed so trivial now, in the face of this epic dream to share my writing with the world.
In the midst of my spinster trance, my phone buzzed to life with an instant message from James. This was definitely a surprise, since we’d gradually drifted apart with my book now wrapping up. The message was an even bigger surprise: Are you free for a phone call?
For two months now, I’d buried the memory of Erik and the sound of James’s voice way back into the corner of fantasy land. Fantasy land was now a place with a big “NO TRESPASSING” sign, which was exactly what I needed to brace for the reality of becoming a self-published author.
I bit my lip as I stared at James’s message. What if he has something encouraging to say?
I listened hard to measure the downstairs noises. My sister’s narcissistic vacation anecdotes were in full force, with my dad’s boisterous laughter quickly following. Seems safe enough.
Deciding that the chance for some encouragement far outweighed any dwelling on the past, I dialled his number and waited.
“James Caldwell.”
That voice. Like silk.
“Hi,” I said.
“How are you?”
“Good thanks.” I glanced at my book. “Nervous.”
“I think I know why that is. How much longer until the release date?”
“Less than a month!” My heart was beating fast at the idea of being “out there” as an author.
“Well I’ve read the book so I know the quality is there,” he said.
“B ecause you helped me whip it into shape!” I smiled. “I won’t ever forget that.”
“G ood, I wouldn’t want you to.” He laughed gently.
“I guess it would be easy to forget things...we don’t talk as much as we used to!” My smile faltered. “Which is fine,” I quickly added.
“ It’s odd though, isn’t it? How we’ve settled into a...comfortable silence.”
Comfortable? Never knowing if we’ll meet again is COMFORTABLE?!
“Yeah, it’s like we’ve finally found our rhythm,” I lied.
“Or maybe not,” he said.
Huh?
“Well pick one!” I said, as he laughed.
“I just mean that it’ s nice to chat, just as it’s nice to have breaks.”
“You sound like Confucius.”
He laughed again. “Then let me clarify. I mean that once your book is out, I’d enjoy hearing about what it’s like to be an author. The ups, the downs...”
I frowned. “ The downs? Like what?”
“ Well that’s easy,” he said. “The way you’ll have no audience to start with, that moment when you get your first scathing review, wondering if you’ll ever sell more than twenty books...”
“Hey!” I re minded myself to never use James as a counsellor for the sad or terminally-ill. “Why are you so quick to ignore the ups?”
“Because the ups don’t make you who you are,” he said. “Dealing with the low points is the true measure of character.”
“Right...” I set down my book which was suddenly scaring the crap out of me.
“I am teasing you a little though, ” he added.
I grabbed my book and gave it another hug. “That’s not funny!”
“Not even a little funny?”
I smiled. “So what’s going on with you? I’m so out of the loop.”
“Oh I will catch you up on that another time, but right now you need to put the final touches on that book.”
He was right, even though not knowing about his life made him seem even more far away. Or maybe that’s where he needed to be.
“Well I’ll keep you updated,” I said. “But you can e-mail me too you know,
In the midst of my spinster trance, my phone buzzed to life with an instant message from James. This was definitely a surprise, since we’d gradually drifted apart with my book now wrapping up. The message was an even bigger surprise: Are you free for a phone call?
For two months now, I’d buried the memory of Erik and the sound of James’s voice way back into the corner of fantasy land. Fantasy land was now a place with a big “NO TRESPASSING” sign, which was exactly what I needed to brace for the reality of becoming a self-published author.
I bit my lip as I stared at James’s message. What if he has something encouraging to say?
I listened hard to measure the downstairs noises. My sister’s narcissistic vacation anecdotes were in full force, with my dad’s boisterous laughter quickly following. Seems safe enough.
Deciding that the chance for some encouragement far outweighed any dwelling on the past, I dialled his number and waited.
“James Caldwell.”
That voice. Like silk.
“Hi,” I said.
“How are you?”
“Good thanks.” I glanced at my book. “Nervous.”
“I think I know why that is. How much longer until the release date?”
“Less than a month!” My heart was beating fast at the idea of being “out there” as an author.
“Well I’ve read the book so I know the quality is there,” he said.
“B ecause you helped me whip it into shape!” I smiled. “I won’t ever forget that.”
“G ood, I wouldn’t want you to.” He laughed gently.
“I guess it would be easy to forget things...we don’t talk as much as we used to!” My smile faltered. “Which is fine,” I quickly added.
“ It’s odd though, isn’t it? How we’ve settled into a...comfortable silence.”
Comfortable? Never knowing if we’ll meet again is COMFORTABLE?!
“Yeah, it’s like we’ve finally found our rhythm,” I lied.
“Or maybe not,” he said.
Huh?
“Well pick one!” I said, as he laughed.
“I just mean that it’ s nice to chat, just as it’s nice to have breaks.”
“You sound like Confucius.”
He laughed again. “Then let me clarify. I mean that once your book is out, I’d enjoy hearing about what it’s like to be an author. The ups, the downs...”
I frowned. “ The downs? Like what?”
“ Well that’s easy,” he said. “The way you’ll have no audience to start with, that moment when you get your first scathing review, wondering if you’ll ever sell more than twenty books...”
“Hey!” I re minded myself to never use James as a counsellor for the sad or terminally-ill. “Why are you so quick to ignore the ups?”
“Because the ups don’t make you who you are,” he said. “Dealing with the low points is the true measure of character.”
“Right...” I set down my book which was suddenly scaring the crap out of me.
“I am teasing you a little though, ” he added.
I grabbed my book and gave it another hug. “That’s not funny!”
“Not even a little funny?”
I smiled. “So what’s going on with you? I’m so out of the loop.”
“Oh I will catch you up on that another time, but right now you need to put the final touches on that book.”
He was right, even though not knowing about his life made him seem even more far away. Or maybe that’s where he needed to be.
“Well I’ll keep you updated,” I said. “But you can e-mail me too you know,
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