12

“I’m sorry,” Teddy said the second she burst through the door, tears running down her face, a McDonald’s bag in hand.

The room was dark, and on-screen Tippi Hedren screamed as birds dove from the sky. Eleanor and Kirsten turned to look at her, and Kirsten dropped a drumstick from her mouth.

“Teddy!” Eleanor shouted, standing up and running toward her. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Teddy took a deep breath and then, through heaving sobs, said, “I made dinner for Richard!”

“You made dinner?” Kirsten asked as she paused the movie and turned on the lights.

Teddy wiped her eyes. “Steak and salad.”

“I don’t think the ‘what’ is important,” Eleanor said patiently, putting an arm around her. “Let’s focus on how.”

They guided Teddy toward the couch, and as she cried, Teddy told them what had happened. “And I missed pajama-movie night! I’m the worst friend in the world.”

“Listen, pajama-movie night is important,” Kirsten said. “It’s one of the highlights of my week. But ultimately, we were eating chicken while watching bird attacks. We can repeat the experience, I promise.”

Eleanor handed Teddy a tissue, and Teddy wiped her nose. “I know. But it’s the principle of the thing. I never want to cook dinner for him again.”

“Can I ask . . . why are you clutching a McDonald’s bag like it’s a sack of treasure?” Eleanor asked gently.

Teddy sighed and opened the bag. “I don’t know. This is my third dinner, although I didn’t really eat the one at Richard’s on account of . . .”

“On account of he’s Rick the Dick,” Kirsten said.

“Right,” Teddy said. “But I don’t know, I drove away from the town house and a force greater than me compelled me to go through the McDonald’s drive-thru. It was like I wasn’t in control.”

“God works in mysterious ways, and She knew you needed a Quarter Pounder with Cheese,” Eleanor said.

“Amen,” Kirsten added, rubbing Teddy’s shoulder comfortingly. “You deserve all the processed, sodium-filled goodness you can get.”

“Oh, also.” Teddy bent down to grab another bag, which had fallen onto the floor. “Before McDonald’s, I went to Bath and Body Works.”

“Was there a candle sale?” Eleanor asked with an edge of frantic excitement to her voice.

“I sure hope so,” Kirsten said, “because if you pay full price for a three-wick candle, you’re a damn fool.”

“Oh, there was a sale,” Teddy said. “I was at Richard’s and I got depressed about the lack of seasonal décor, and then I was like, well, maybe we need a pecan-pumpkin waffle candle—”

Eleanor nodded. “Yes, we do. Keep going.”

“And then I remembered that we’re almost out of soap and there was a sale on that, so long story short, I hope you like autumnal scents and foaming antibacterial hand soap.”

“I adore both of those things,” Kirsten said.

“I think it’s time we put Project: Teddy Time into effect,” Eleanor said firmly, then reached over to the coffee table and grabbed her planner.

“Do you always have your planner with you?” Teddy asked, her mouth full of french fries.

“Organization doesn’t happen by accident,” Eleanor said, flipping through the pages. She uncapped her pen and, in her perfect teacher’s penmanship, wrote TEDDY TIME on one of her blank pages. “Are you familiar with Eleanor Roosevelt?”

“Am I familiar with . . . the wife of President Franklin Roosevelt?” Teddy asked. “Yes. I’ve heard the name a few times.”

“Well, she’s my namesake. My parents were weirdly obsessed with her. I don’t know—it was a whole thing. The point is, I grew up hearing her words all the time, and you know what? That woman was a lot of things—assumed closeted lesbian, boss bitch, and also a one-woman quote factory.”

“Okay,” Teddy said tentatively as she reached into the bag for another fry. Kirsten held out a hand, so Teddy gave her one, too.

“And the thing she said that my parents were most fond of was this: do one thing every day that scares you.”

Eleanor paused dramatically as Kirsten and Teddy chewed.

“Turns out she probably didn’t actually say that, at least not in such a Pinterest-graphic-worthy way, but the point remains: you, Teddy, are going to do one thing every day that scares you.”

“You want me to take inspiration from a misattributed quote?” Teddy asked.

“Every day,” Eleanor said firmly, ignoring her question. “You try one new thing. You make one new plan. One thing you never would have, or could have, done with Richard. One step, big or small, outside of your comfort zone. How do you expect to find your passion if you don’t have a plan, Teddy? This is your plan.” She paused and smiled. “Sound good?”

“Whoa,” Teddy said. “I didn’t know you could be so . . . authoritative.”

“She means bossy,” Kirsten said with a grin.

Eleanor flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Different students require different tactics to succeed!”

“Okay,” Teddy said slowly, thinking of Everett’s response to the little boy named Keegan. Wasn’t that what he’d said? That Keegan should try new things, especially the things that scared him?

“This would never work for me,” Kirsten said, leaning back against the throw pillows. “Nothing scares me.”

“Except for possums,” Eleanor reminded her.

Kirsten shuddered. “Their faces! Their teeth! Well, I guess I’d have to confront a possum.”

Teddy shook her head. “I’m not scared of possums. But I am scared of . . . a lot of other things. Like everything, maybe? Life without Richard, that’s what scares me. This sounds like a bad idea.”

Teddy thought about all the decisions she’d avoided throughout her life. Going with the flow, along for the ride. Tagalong Teddy wouldn’t ever do anything that scared her . . . well, not unless a bunch of other people were doing it, too. If everyone around her was jumping off a bridge, then Teddy would definitely do it. No question.

Eleanor smiled gently. “That means this is a great idea. Let’s take some classes! I love classes. Oh! One of my coworkers also teaches over at Sew to Speak. Do you know how to sew?”

“I’ve never tried,” Teddy said. “It looks hard.”

“Well, now’s your chance!” Kirsten said. “Line dancing! Skydiving! Getting a regrettable tattoo! Hitchhiking across the country and almost getting murdered and then writing a memoir about the experience! You’re doing it all.”

“I’m not doing any of those things,” Teddy said matter-of-factly. “But sewing sounds nice.”

“You’re gonna Eat Pray Love your way all over the world! It’s time for you to say yes to life!” Kirsten said, ramping up.

Teddy placed a hand on Kirsten’s shoulder. “I don’t have the time for a pasta-based spiritual journey, but if life ever asks me a question, I promise I’ll answer in the affirmative.”

Kirsten sighed. “I suppose that’s good enough for me.”

“This is exciting,” Eleanor said, wiggling her eyebrows as she closed her planner. “I haven’t been this jazzed about a project since I decided to reupholster the cushions on our kitchen chairs.”

“High praise,” Kirsten said. “She loves to reupholster.”

“You’re not doing this by yourself, Teddy,” Eleanor said, putting an arm around her. “You have a life outside of making dinner for Richard, and we’re going to help you figure out what it is.”

Teddy brushed away a tear, embarrassed. “I’m an adult woman. I shouldn’t be figuring this stuff out now.”

“There’s no time limit on dreams,” Kirsten said, putting an arm around her other side so that Teddy was the filling in a warm, cozy best friend sandwich. “Colonel Sanders didn’t become a chef until he was forty, and look at what that man accomplished.”

Teddy snort-laughed through her tears. “Well, I don’t plan to start a successful chain of fried-chicken restaurants, but thank you. And thanks for being so nice to me even though I missed pajama-movie night.”

Kirsten waved her off. “We’ll plan another one.”

“And we’re going to have an official tea time to fully map out your plan,” Eleanor said. “This is merely brainstorming. Think about all the things that scare you, and we’ll make up a full list over scones.”

Teddy nodded. Somehow, talking about this with Eleanor and Kirsten felt different from when her mom and Sophia told her what to do—it probably had something to do with how Eleanor called it Teddy’s plan. She was the one who was in charge; no one else could have Teddy Time for her.

And after all, this was what Everett St. James had recommended, and who did she trust more than a television host she’d never actually met?

“I think I’m going to go to sleep,” Teddy said, disentangling herself from their hug. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

In her room, tucked into bed, Teddy rewatched Keegan’s episode of Everett’s Place. Once again, Everett told Keegan that he should keep searching for his passion, keep trying new things, keep looking for what lit him up. Basically, he was telling Keegan to have Teddy Time, if not in so many words.

This is right, Teddy thought. She had to try to do the things that scared her, like Eleanor and Everett said.

But upon this viewing, Teddy focused on something she’d never paid attention to before: the words that flashed on the screen as the show ended.

Have a question for Everett? Email him at Everett@Everettsplace.com. Parental permission required. All emails become property of the show.

She opened her email.

It wasn’t that she thought Everett would respond. Well, honestly, she hoped he would. Sort of. She knew the show wasn’t meant as a puppet version of Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday and that she wasn’t the target audience. But in that moment, thinking about that disastrous dinner at Richard’s and Teddy Time and her family’s plan for her and the fact that she related to a nine-year-old, she figured that emailing Everett might make her feel a little better, even if she was flinging her words into the abyss.

Dear Everett,

She shivered. Even typing his name, like they were old friends, gave her a little thrill. She really needed to get ahold of herself.

I need your help. You see, I watched you tell Keegan how he could find his “thing”—that is, the thing he’s really good at, the way his friends are good at their respective things. And it’s not that you didn’t give him good advice—you did, and I’m sure Keegan is destined to live a long, passion-filled life once he discovers his love of the flute.

But, and not to sound too solipsistic here, what about me? What about a woman who’s aging out of her twenties and recently got an ill-advised breakup bob? Is it too late for me to discover my thing? What if I had a chance to find my thing when I was, say, 23, and I missed it? Am I doomed to live the rest of my life thing-less?

Teddy exhaled. This email to Everett felt very, very scary. She kept typing.

Help me, Everett St. James. You’re my only hope.

Very sincerely yours,

Theodora

PS: Do adults often write to you? Am I the first? Maybe I should be ashamed, but I had a very rough night that involved a Quarter Pounder with Cheese and I’m feeling vulnerable (and slightly nauseated) right now.

She clicked SEND, then pulled the blankets over her head. Day one of her Teddy Time plan was officially in the books, and maybe it was the nerves or the fast food, but it kind of made her want to throw up.