20

Dear Theodora,

You have my word that I would never, ever judge your chassé. Mostly because I don’t know what that is. To be honest, it sounds too inappropriate for what is technically my work email, so I’ll change the subject.

Regarding the “shouldn’t thirty-year-olds have their lives figured out?” question: well, that’s hard for me to say. After all, you’re talking to a freak of nature who’s been interested in puppetry since the tender age of four. I realize that’s not necessarily normal.

The breakup happened four years ago, which seems both like a lifetime away and like yesterday. She’s married with a kid now, and honestly, I’m happy that she finally got what she wanted, even if it wasn’t with me.

Good job telling your shitty ex no. So what else is happening on the “do one thing every day that scares you” front? Have you skydived yet? Bungee jumped? Watched Human Centipede?

Of note: I’m halfway through the second Alice book. I am scandalized that Pamela’s bikini top fell off at the beach.

In rapture, sort of,

Everett

Teddy flushed. She couldn’t stop flushing, because this email was one giant recipe for a full-body flush. She knew Everett’s sign-off was a reference to the book he was reading (Alice in Rapture, Sort Of), but . . . he was reading the Alice books? He was reading an (admittedly genius) series of books aimed at preteen girls in the eighties and nineties just because she’d mentioned them once? She pictured Everett sitting in a chair, his big fingers turning those tiny paperback pages.

It wasn’t an altogether bad image. She smiled, then frowned.

Before the emails, she would have said she had a crush on Everett St. James the way someone might have said they had a crush on Chris Evans, in the way where they simply enjoyed watching him on-screen and spent little time considering his personal life.

But that was not how she felt now. Now she had a living, breathing crush on Everett St. James, the real kind, the kind where she imagined him reading her favorite childhood books, smiled at his emails, and wondered what he was doing at any given moment. Everett St. James, the man who no doubt had plenty of women (and not only married moms, although who knew? Maybe married moms were his thing!) at his disposal. Everett St. James, who’d known what he wanted to do since he was four years old. Everett St. James, who certainly couldn’t ever be attracted to a woman who didn’t know what she wanted, even if he was very kindly humoring her via email.

No, Teddy thought, there’s no way this is going to end well.

She closed her email and opened a tab to watch the latest episode of Everett’s show. She didn’t know how far in advance they were filmed; had he made this since they’d been talking? Or, rather, emailing? Was the Everett on-screen aware of who she was, even if he didn’t really know her?

She was smiling as Everett talked to an owl puppet when Kirsten walked by her open door.

Teddy slammed her laptop shut, and Kirsten tilted her head. “Oh, Teddy, no need to hide anything here.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Teddy said, sitting up straight.

“I’m not going to judge whatever weird porn you were watching with the door open,” Kirsten said. “This is a judgment-free zone.”

“I wasn’t watching—” Teddy started.

“I’m just glad you’re happy,” Kirsten said before Teddy could explain. “Eleanor? You ready?”

Eleanor breezed past Kirsten and into the room. With the three of them there, even with Teddy sitting on the bed, the room was pretty much at capacity.

“Why are you wearing your sparkly skirt?” Teddy asked, pointing to Eleanor’s sequin-covered silver miniskirt that she’d paired with maroon tights and a denim jacket. “Are you going on a date or something?”

Teddy hadn’t been living with the girls long, but she already knew that the sparkly skirt was Eleanor’s “going out” attire.

Eleanor shook her head as if she was offended. “No. Well, maybe a friend date. We’re going to karaoke!”

“I can’t do that,” Teddy said immediately.

Eleanor and Kirsten looked at each other and then back at Teddy. “What do you mean, you can’t? Are you, like, physically unable to sing?” Kirsten asked.

“Is this a vocal cord issue?” Eleanor asked with concern.

By all accounts, Teddy Time was going swimmingly. Teddy mentally ticked off the list. Emailing Everett? Check. Going to Jazzercise? Check. Confronting the fact that she’d actually loved Jazzercise? Big check. Having a conversation with Kirsten about her and the Viking’s sex life? Check, check, and check.

She was doing it! She was moving out of her comfort zone, and she had the sore calves to prove it! But this . . . this was perhaps a bridge too far.

“I’m not a karaoke person,” Teddy said firmly.

“Untrue!” Eleanor said, a finger in the air as if she were bringing up an important point. “That’s because everyone is a karaoke person.”

“There are two types of people,” Kirsten said. “Those who love karaoke and those who don’t know they love it yet.”

She and Eleanor nodded in sync.

“Okay, no, you’re not getting it,” Teddy said, frustrated. “I can’t sing. Like, I really can’t sing. Once I was singing in the shower and Richard popped his head in and asked me to stop because he said I was so off-key, it was making it hard to study.”

Eleanor narrowed her eyes.

“I’m serious, you guys. When I sing, dogs howl. Glass shatters. Randy Jackson shows up and says, ‘That’s gonna be a no from me, dawg.’”

“Teddy!” Kirsten grabbed her shoulders. “That’s the absolute beauty of karaoke! You don’t have to be a good singer! In fact, it’s better if you aren’t. Everyone else kinda hates the great singers. Who are they showing off for?”

“We’re not good singers, either,” Eleanor said.

Kirsten lifted a shoulder and muttered, “Eh, speak for yourself.”

Eleanor gave Kirsten a quick side-eye and a laugh. “I mean, we are not classically trained. We’re not belting out the high notes on Mariah Carey songs. We just . . . have fun! If you pick a good song, and the vibe in the room is right, everyone starts singing along with you, and you look over that sea of faces, all of them singing the words right back to you. . . .”

“And it’s almost a religious experience,” Kirsten said. “Trust us. You’re gonna love it.”

This wasn’t scary. This was terrifying. Teddy had spent years hiding, metaphorically and kind of literally. And now she was supposed to put herself on an actual stage with a microphone? It was absurd.

Reading the hesitation on Teddy’s face, Kirsten asked, “What would Eleanor Roosevelt say if she walked in to this room right now?”

“Well,” Teddy said, “she’s dead, so probably not much.”

“In that case, what would zombie Eleanor Roosevelt say?” Kirsten raised her eyebrows.

“Something unintelligible about eating brains?” Teddy asked. “I don’t know. I don’t watch a lot of zombie movies.”

“Not the point!” Eleanor said. “The point is, you’re trying to do things that scare you. Nothing changes if you don’t make any changes! Dreams only work if you do! I have memorized all the posters in the teachers’ lounge and I won’t stop quoting them until you agree to go out with us!”

“She’ll keep doing this all night,” Kirsten said. “Come on, Teddy. Eleanor Roosevelt didn’t sacrifice herself so you could not go to karaoke.”

“How exactly do you think Eleanor Roosevelt died?” Teddy asked.

“TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAM WORK!” Eleanor shouted, surprising everyone, including herself. “Sorry. That was louder than I intended.”

Teddy bit her lip. She knew she had to do this. Not only because of the plan, and not only because the entire point of her life right now was to get out of her comfort zone even when (especially when!) it scared her.

No, she had to do this because Eleanor and Kirsten were asking. Because she’d blown them off for years, missing out on birthday parties, nights out, movie marathons, and late-night gossip sessions. She’d missed out on everything because she’d put her eggs in one Richard-shaped basket. They were inviting her, and so she had to go. She needed them to know that she was here now, all in on their friendship, ready to be around for the long haul.

“We’re not going to make you do this all alone,” Eleanor said. “We can do a song together. It will be fun!”

All three of them onstage together. Okay. She could do this.

Teddy smiled. “You’re right. It will be fun.”

Eleanor and Kirsten cheered for approximately one half second, then went off to find their purses and coats. It was almost like they’d known she’d agree to go.

“Ghost of Eleanor Roosevelt, give me strength,” Teddy muttered. And although she wasn’t remotely sure where that prayer was going, she did feel a sense of certainty and calm overtake her. Tonight was going to be a good night.