Page 11 of Good at Being Alive
Which means millions of people will watch, and Rebecca and I will have to spend the rest of our lives known as “thosecrazy people who got divorced on TV.” The camera will show her in all her disarmingly lovely quirkiness—that lush mouth of hers uttering every irreverent thought passing through her head—while I’ll be the stiff guy in a suit who complains about money and reminds her to behave. So not only will the world think I’m nuts, but that I’m also an uptight jerk who deserved to get dumped.
We’ll meet at the week’s end to go over details…if she shows. Given that she was okay with murdering the competition but felt marryingmewas a bridge too far, I have my doubts. I pick up the phone mostly to make sure she’s not fleeing the country instead.
“Why hello,Theo Porter,” she says.
Jesus. We are one sentence into this call and she’s already annoyingme.
“Is there a reason you say my name as if it’s a punch line?” I ask.
“It’s just so…British. Yet so boring. Why couldn’t you have some hot super-English name like Callum?”
I run a hand over my face. We’re about to parade around the world pretending to be married to save ourselves from bankruptcy andthisis what’s troubling her? “I don’t know a single guy named Callum.”
“Caspian? Aslan?”
“Now you’re just naming characters fromThe Chronicles of Narnia.”
“Draco, Voldemort…”
“So many little Voldemorts running around London these days. It’s overused.”
“But you can see why I’d be disappointed with Theo.”
She’s incredibly irritating. I suspect a fake marriage is the only kind she’ll be able to achieve, and it’s definitely the onlykind I intend to achieve. I resolve, for the second time in five minutes, to remain civil. “Anyway, are you busy at the moment?” Given that this is Rebecca, I’d wager the answer isno.
“I’m eating donut holes in bed. I keep thinking that if I had a stroke right now, they’d find me with this box of donut holes and my vibrator and struggle to put the order of events together.”
I choke a little and tug at my collar. An image of the exquisite Rebecca with her head thrown back and her legs open wide is in my head before I can stop it. Alas, I remain a heterosexual male, whether she’s Rick’s daughter or not.
“Why are you eating donut holes in bed?”
“Because I can. Because there’s no one to tell me not to. And I quit my job so there’s nothing else to do.”
“So you’re unemployed and staying in bed all day, eating donut holes.”
“Yes. My father packed his lunch every day for thirty years so that I’d have the money to eat donut holes in bed. I’m sure it’s what he’d have wanted.”
A laugh is working its way up my throat but I fight it back admirably.
She’s so strange. And interesting, yes, but the sort of interesting that ends up drugging you or persuading you to join a cult. “He said as much, many a time,” I reply. “Anyhow, I just thought I should check in with you. I assume you saw Emil’s email?”
“I did.” I hear her steps moving through the room, which I suppose means she’s no longer near her vibrator. Probably for the best. “We should discuss some things.”
I roll my eyes. She apparently didn’t read the emailcarefully,which isn’t much of a surprise. “Right. That’s the entire purpose of Friday’s meeting, Rebecca.”
“No, not about that,” she says, and the hint of discomfort in her voice warns me that I won’t enjoy what comes next because…isthere a topic that makes Rebecca uncomfortable? She just told a near stranger that she’s got a vibrator in her bed. “We’re actually saying vows. Promising fidelity and whatever other bullshit. So, what are the rules for when the camera isn’t rolling? Are we free to do whatever, or whomever, we want?”
Ah. Yes. That.
“I realize this will be a challenge for you, but some discretion is required. I think we need to agree that, at least while we’re traveling for the show, neither of us is doingwhatever or whomeverwe want.”
She exhales loudly. “Look, dude. I haveneeds.I’m sure you’re happy to masturbate to Chaucer in your room alone, but I am not.”
I groan into my hand. “For fuck’s sake, Rebecca.”
“Oh, sorry. Not a Chaucer fan? What about the poems of Lord Byron? That also seems British.”
I’m fighting a desire to laugh. I’m also beginning to see why so many marriages end with one spouse murdering the other. “If I can survive a few months without it, you can.”
