There was a young rabbi who had rediscovered her dormant faith after the death of her father. There was a medical resident whose elective mastectomy at age thirty-two had turned her into a health-food nut and ultramarathoner. There was a successful real estate agent whose house burned down and sent her into a surprising state of quasi-Buddhist bliss at the loss of her material possessions. There was a young electronics heiress whose brief, DUI-related jail sentence brought her into contact with women serving harsh sentences for minor drug offenses, which led the electronics heiress to enroll in law school to become an advocate for such women. There was an event planner who found her fiancé in bed with a circus performer she had hired for a four-year-old’s birthday party, which inspired her to start a popular new dating site.
And there was, to Jen’s profound sorrow and regret, a wealthy retired friend of Leora’s who had outsourced her favorite horse’s daily exercise to a groom because she was so busy with her garden and memoirs, and shortly thereafter the horse had died of colic, which taught Leora’s friend an important lesson, as she wrote in an email to Leora, “about the value of remembering to take a breath and look around you so you don’t miss anything.”
“We’re so hard on ourselves. And that’s what makes us women great. But it also hurts us sometimes. What doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger, and vice versa,” Leora once said.
“What kills our horses only makes us stronger,” Daisy once said.
For the video project, they had, in Jen’s assessment, a decent if not excellent spread of ages, ethnicities, and cultural backgrounds. Geographical diversity among the interviewees wasn’t as good, but Donna wanted to do all the interviews and did not wish to travel. Jen had presented photos of each woman to Karina, who often said, “Even if it’s weird to talk about it, we always need to think about optics. It’s just a reality.”
They’d booked a video crew and blocked out studio time. Donna had a script for all six interviews that she wouldn’t share with anyone else. “It is down on paper,” she said, “but it’s not yet in the air. The conversation needs to breathe and fly on its own. Ink and tree mulch can’t contain it.”
For weeks, Jen had been trying to get the roster and budget in front of Karina for her approval. But whenever Jen caught her in person, Karina would ask her to put her questions in an email, which Karina would then ignore, no matter how many times Jen forwarded and forward-forwarded the email to her.
Then Karina had gone on vacation; on her return, she was perpetually “slammed” with other work. In the last few days running up to the shoot, Jen had given up, assuming Karina had given her tacit approval, or her approval-by-forfeit.
Karina—LIFt
Monday, Sept 14 11:14 AM
To: Jen <Jenski1848@gmail.com>
Subject: Shoot tomorrow
Priority: High!
Jen, as discussed, do not proceed with tomorrow’s shoot until you have my sign-off.
Jen—LIFt
Monday, Sept 14 11:56 AM
To: Karina—LIFt
Subject: Re: FW: Shoot tomorrow
Priority: High!
Of course—just switching this conversation to my work email. (I don’t see messages as quickly on the other email!) I’ll be right over with lots of cool stuff for you to check out. I’m excited for you to see what we’ve cooked up—be there in five.
Karina—LIFt
Monday, Sept 14 11:59 AM
To: Jen—LIFt
Subject: Re: FW: Shoot tomorrow
Priority: High!
Come by in an hour or so instead—I’m swamped right now
“We talked about seven,” Karina was saying, head shots and biographical sketches fanned out on her desk before her. It was four-fifty-five p.m., the day before the shoot.
“That’s true,” Jen said, who wasn’t actually sure it was true, “but we have a very strong crop of six.”
Karina continued to scowl at a head shot of the crusading socialite. Jen’s face burned and itched. She wished she’d remembered to bring her can of ginger ale to Karina’s office, imagined pressing the cold, damp metal to her cheek.
“So Petra has dummy screen shots from the six videos in a grid on the landing page for the whole package—I can show you on my computer, if you want.”
“Is Petra the one who’s always carrying the bag around?” Karina asked.
“Petra is—”
“—I don’t know how to make this clearer to you,” Karina said. “We talked about seven.”
“And we have six,” Jen said.
“Seven is Leora’s number, and last I checked, I’m pretty sure this is Leora’s foundation.”
“We shoot tomorrow and we have six.”
“Look, Jen, it’s up to you whether you see this as a collaboration or not, but that’s what it is. Collaboration. Communication. Give-and-take.”
“Uh-huh,” Jen said.
Karina shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she said. “You have work to do. Close the door behind you as you leave.”