“The Enchanted Woods?” I asked, reading the words swept across the cover in elaborate script. “What is this?”
“Open it!” Robin said, bouncing slightly in his chair.
I opened the brochure and saw a picture of what looked like a luxurious hotel room and then another of a spa-like bathroom.
“A hotel?” I asked.
“A retreat,” Robin said. “It’s an adults-only wilderness retreat without all the unfortunate wilderness aspects. You get to stay inside and get pampered and I’ve heard that there are some pretty beneficial services.”
“Services?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Robin said. “I’ve heard that they are fantastic for relieving stress and planning extraordinary experiences for their guests.”
“What types of extraordinary experiences?”
“Every person gets a customized plan, so I don’t really know what they would do for you.”
“And this made you think of me?”
Robin nodded. I knew that there was something more to that than he was telling me, but the chances of him actually explaining it were next to nothing.
“And now that you have all this time on your hands, you don’t have any excuse not to go for it.”
I stared at the brochure for a few seconds, unsure of how to feel about it.
“Well, I’ll think about it. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll think about it.”
“Good,” Robin said, sounding far more delighted than I would expect him to sound about a glorified adult summer camp. “Want to go up to the Wishing Well? I’m getting hungry.”
I nodded and swung my legs off of the bed to stand. It felt strange to look at my closet door and not see the outfit that I would wear the next day hanging there waiting for me. It was a ritual that I went through each night, selecting my clothing, laying it out, ensuring that I was ready to get up and get dressed in record time the next morning so that I could linger over the starter cup of coffee that would carry me through until I reached the office and the blissful coffee and doughnuts that were awaiting me. My eyes narrowed and I felt my jaw twitch slightly.
Doughnuts.
Twenty minutes later we were sitting at the same table at the Wishing Well that we always did. It had always felt like tradition, but now it felt like routine. Predictable. As if there wasn’t any other option. Robin flipped through the night’s menu. It seemed that the dessert night had been enough fanciness for the bar for a while and everything had gone back to normal for the time. That meant that I already knew what I was going to order, and, despite all of his hemming and hawing over the menu, what Robin was going to order, too.
We made our requests of the waiter and Robin burst into an unnecessarily graphic description of the date that had resulted in the brochure now sitting on my bed. I tried to listen, but I found my attention wandering across the bar to a booth tucked in a dark corner. The couple sitting there was leaned toward each other, their hands gripped tightly together in the middle of the table. Their eyes sparkled as they murmured to each other, and every few seconds I saw the woman laugh. I felt an unexpected pang in my heart.
“And then I exclaimed ‘well, peel my dick and call it a banana.’” Robin said.
I looked at him sharply, embarrassed that he caught me drifting away from the conversation and entranced by the couple across the bar.
“What?” I said.
Robin shook his head.
“You aren’t listening to me.”
“I’m sorry. My brain isn’t here tonight.”
“What are you staring at?”
He followed where my gaze had been and saw the couple.
“Ah,” he said. “Adorable.”
There was a decided note of disgust in his voice and usually I would laugh, but this time I just shrugged.
“Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to have that one person? Someone who you can come home to at night and rely on completely? Someone who you can talk to about anything and share all of your experiences with?”
“I have that person,” Robin said. “Me. I’m always there when I get home from work and when I want to go out at night, I always want to go with me. I never argue about where I want to go or try to get my way, and I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed this, but I’m a sparkling conversationalist. And as if that wasn’t enough, I also have you.”
“I’m serious, Robin.”
“I am, too, Snow. You seem to think that there is something missing from your life because you aren’t dating the same person who you were three years ago.”
“I’m not dating anyone.”
“And? I’m dating a lot of people, does that somehow make me better?”
I didn’t know how to respond.
“It’s not that it makes you better or worse.”
“Of course, it does. It makes me leagues better, and you know why? Because I’m getting what I want every night of the week that I want it. I don’t sit around waiting for somebody to sweep me off my feet. I don’t define my life by another person. And I sure as hell don’t cultivate my self-worth based on whether or not I can peel the same person’s underwear off of my floor the same way every day for months at a time. I am much more interested in being able to peel their underwear off of them.”
“Robin,” I said, but he wasn’t going to let me stop him.
“No, Snow, listen to me. I’ve seen this little misty look in your eyes for months and it isn’t doing you any good. All it’s doing is making you doubt yourself and think that the only thing that you have in your life is your career.”
“So, what do you suggest?”
“Relax. Think about yourself for once. Stop always trying to please other people and figure out who you are. I bet that if you really put your mind to it, you could find out that there is a lot more to you than just that sugary-sweet persona you’ve got going on.”
“I am sweet.”
“I know, but that’s not all there is to you. You’ve spent your whole adult life thinking about other people. That’s your entire career, Snow. You figure out what other people want and what they would like and then you create campaigns that fully cater to them. You alter your own thoughts and perceptions to what they like. How many times have you pretended like you really believed in something that you thought was ridiculous, or helped a company peddle a product that you hated?”
“That’s my job, Robin.”
“I know that, but it’s just a reflection of your life. You’ve dated one person ever. You’ve had sex with one person ever. And I would venture to say that you probably figured out pretty early on what he liked and stuck with that.”
“I liked it, too,” I said, feeling far more defensive than I would have liked to admit.
“Did you?” Robin asked. “Or did you just like the fact that he liked it? You’ve got to think about yourself, Snow. Think about what you want for a change. Maybe you’ll find that when you know yourself, you’ll be able to know others even better. And then…then you’ll have a life.”