The Discount Life: Step Two & Three

Step Two: Establish Goals


1) Run a marathon
2) Go to Scotland
3) Become a chef, I liked to cook, why not?
4) Become a violinist again
5) Actually, pick up the violin, its been so long the case has dust on it
6) Cut Dairy Out of My Diet (it makes my skin so itchy and my stomach, well, we won’t go there)
7) Learn to knit a scarf
8) Call Mom and Dad once a week, they are, after all, good parents
9) Find Italian Boyfriend with Villa and move to Lake Como
10) Host a dinner with place cards
11) Sky Dive
12) Actually Read War & Peace
13) Try Veganism
14) Try Buddhism
15) Become Crafty (ie- Martha Stewart)
16) Save Money, it seems to make the world go round
17) Become Poly-lingual (Russian, Mandarin, etc, etc.)
18) Buy a skirt with a slit in it and wear it
19) Get a new job
20) Get a new life

Turns out, when you sit down to write your goals there’s a lot more of them then you think. My list wasn’t what I expected. I needed to talk this out. I needed my friends. But Mel was spending the weekend in Connecticut with her parents and Jack was, of course, with Mel. I wasn’t quite ready to subject Stanley to my hair brained scheme. I was afraid he wouldn’t understand. Might make another joke of it again. So I decided to call Andrew, my long time always there when you need him, tell him everything and feel good about it friend.

We met for lunch at his place on a gorgeous September Saturday. He ordered take out and we sat out on his porch with our legs stretched out on the ratty wicker furniture his mother had given him when he graduated from college. Six years later, we were still eating Mexican take out from our laps and laughing through glasses of sangria that rocked alarmingly when they were set down on the unsteady wicker end tables.

“I should get rid of these,” he said. “There not impressing the ladies anymore.”

“Did they ever impress the ladies?”

“Well, the young ones. But not the real ones.”

“That’s slanderous. Young ones can be real. I was always very mature.”

“Yeah, well, don’t brag. Not everyone is amazing. But yeah. I probably should up the ante on my pad. I’m growing up now, I guess. Getting old.”

“You sound dismayed.”

“Naw. I don’t think words like dismayed. I’m just ready. For the next phase. Maybe find someone. Settle down a bit.” I felt a strange tug at my heart when he talked like this. Unidentifiable but remarkable all the same. I had known Andrew since we were in college. He was the life of the party. The glue from years past. He deserved this someone, whoever she may be. But in the deepest recesses of my subconscious heart, I didn’t like her already. She would sit here on a Saturday afternoon and eat my take out and drink my sangria, take my friend away from me and leave me on my porch, alone. She would take my place and I would have to let her so that my friend could move on to his next phase. Something like sadness swept over me.

Andrew said, “What?”

I shook my head and smiled. “Nothing. I was just thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.” I smiled wider this time. One must maintain cheer. “I’ve never heard you be so quiet. Must be thinking something big…”

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

“Yes. Which is why, I presume, we’re sitting down to sangria and cheese. Go ahead. Spill it.” I told him about my theory and how it applied to me. About how I’d settled for so much and there was nobody to blame for it but me. That everyone did, all the time, but I was taking steps to stop myself from continuing the pattern of complacency.

“Sounds like you’re ready for the next phase too,” he said. The unidentifiable pang tugged at my heart again. I did not like this next phase stuff. Next phase implied leaving what we had. I liked what we had. I had always been uncomfortable with change but this change in particular implied I could no longer have Andrew as I had always had him. It was disheartening.

“I wouldn’t say next phase. I just want to be a better me and to be, complete, I guess.”

“Yeah. Next phase. Moving on, moving up. I get it.” He munched on his taco. His bites made loud crunching sounds. He chewed a bit with his mouth open and said,” I like it. You’re right. We do discount ourselves sometimes. I do it with women all the time. Never quite pick the ones I want ‘cause there’s another bird in my path.” I wanted to say Seriously. Stop with the girl talk. This discussion is not about your love life. Instead, I said, “I think we’ve all done something like that.”

“I want something real next time. Like you and Stanley.” Tug. Tug. Me and Stanley. Real. I suppose, for many people that was very true. Stanley and I were a numerical fact. One, instead of two. Quantifiable. Living together. My calculated thoughts went unspoken and we were quiet for a minute. “So what’s the next step?” He asked.

“I’m trying to write down my goals but they’re getting crazy. I need some help filtering.”

“I am up for the challenge. Hit me.” I bounced the list off of him and we laughed through a short hour of my insanities.

“You can’t actually become a chef and a violinist. Not as careers. So how about you write learn to cook. That’s better. And since when do you want to Sky Dive? You hate heights.”

“Face your fears?”

“Yeah but be reasonable. You don’t have to go crazy just because you want to have goals.”

“People sky dive Andrew.”

“You are not the same as all people. Be honest with yourself Chloe. You hate heights. But if you want to face that fear how about a hike or something? Like Grandfather Mountain. That’s reasonable.”

“Where’s Grandfather Mountain?”

“North Carolina. I’ve done it a couple of times. And there’s this awesome town at the top. Blowing Rock. We could make a trip of it, if you wanted to."

“Maybe,” I said, “Unless I decide to sky dive.” We continued like this until we wrote a list that sounded effective and plausible. We settled on the following:

1) Practice the violin and take steps toward making it a career
2) Run a marathon (or a half – remember to be reasonable)
3) Learn to Cook
4) Try different types of wellness (dietary, spiritual or otherwise)
5) Call Mom and Dad weekly
6) Travel (preferably to Scotland)
7) Explore new interests (reading, languages, crafts, etc. – Andrew says to remember that I don’t have to become professional at all of them)
8) Save Money
9) Buy a skirt with a slit in it and wear it ( also applauded by said friend)
10) Hike Grandfather Mountain (or go Sky diving)

“Well, you’re on your way. Now what?”

“I guess I get to work on some of the goals.”

“This is like a twelve step program. The Discount Life Anonymous.” It was, I supposed. A twelve step program to finding yourself. The concept was interesting.

“Kind of,” I said, if it works. “I’ll let you know how it goes.” At the top of the list I wrote “The Discount Life Anonymous”. At the end of the list I added a number 11: start my organization.

Step Three: Get to Work on a Goal

When I picked up the violin, the case was covered in dust so thick it had a saturated stick to it. My fingers left deep marks where their grip had broken the greasy seal. I waited until I was completely alone. Even the neighbors had gone out. It was a Sunday and I was ready to cross one of my goals off the list. I chose Bach for his beautiful melodic lines. Soft, sweet, sad, incumbent. The first note was scratchy. The second, sloppy. The third, fourth and fifth became more and more fluid, until the whole of the piece came flooding out of me like a love confession. All this time, I’d been waiting for just the right moment and when I finally allowed myself that the perfect moment to sit down and great and old friend didn’t exist, the mounting emotion surged out of me like I’d been waiting years to express it. I had. Six to be exact.

I played the tune like a record on repeat, until I had the first two pages memorized. I was so excited I called Mel. When I got her message machine I left her something breathy, childish.

“Mel it’s me. I just finished playing the violin. Can you believe it?! Bach….It was amazing. I mean, we knew I liked playing the violin but…this was just, it was like. It’s been so long. It was…oh I can’t explain it. Call me. I’m so excited! Bye.”

I tried my mom and dad but got their message machine as well. Fancy that, I finally call them and they’re busy. They call me so much you’d think they never left their house – like hermit crabs that only scamper out of their shells when it’s convenient to make a point.

I looked at the phone and thought about calling Stanley. He might enjoy knowing I’d done this. I stared at the handle briefly and ignored the rising tension in my body. Why was I nervous? I picked up the receiver and called him. He had gone golfing with two guys from his work early that morning. The phone rang several times. He didn’t answer and something like relief washed over me. My DL secret was still mine.

I reached for the phone and at last decided to call Andrew. I hesitated. Why was I so remiss to keep this to myself? Was it any less valuable if only I knew that I’d memorized the first movement of the famous Bach piece. Yet somehow I needed to declare it. Like I couldn’t cross it off the list until I’d screamed from a metaphorical mountain top: I DID IT. So I dialed the number and was pleasantly surprise when I heard, “Hey there, what’s up?”

“I played the violin.” I said it flatly and in a rush. Coolness was never one of my attributes.

“Awesome. You can cross it off the list now right?”

“Right.”

“Perfect.”

“What are you doing?”

“I…uh…I’m with someone. “ Tug, Tug. It was a woman. I could tell by the way he didn’t just say it matter of factly. A typical male, he always said everything with an absolute air of perfunctory. When it came to women, he drew out his sentences.

“With someone? Someone like a woman?”

“Yeah. I decided to take your advice. Stop discounting myself and…” he trailed off.

“And?” I sounded impatient. I heard it in my own voice and the tone alarmed me. Curb your emotion. It’s just a girl. He’s had plenty. But something felt different this time. He sounded different.

“And she’s standing right here so I can’t talk about her right now…” he laughed nervously and I heard her laughter in the back ground too. Flirting. Flattering. They were sharing this moment. He didn’t say anything else and he didn’t hang up either. We were all just present, our thoughts hanging like from a string in mid air. Whose will the wind break first? Mine.

“Oh okay well, I’ll let you go then. I just had a minute. Wanted to share my violin thing.”

“That’s really great Clo. I’m excited for you. Let me know when you cross another one off, ok?”

“Okay”, deafening pause, “Bye.”

“Bye.” He hung up quickly and my shoulders slumped as I put the phone down. Already, she was in my wicker chair drinking my sangria. Tug. But I wanted Andrew to be happy. This was the price of change I guessed. No more Discounts meant that people would find themselves following new paths. Unreasonably I thought, He was mine. Was. Tug. The truth of that was hard to bare. I pushed Andrew and discount girl away from my mind and turned back to the violin. I played Tchaikovsky. Sad, slow. It felt good to play him. I messed up the notes left and right but I didn’t care. It felt right.

Stanley came home in the middle of page three. “Wow, you’re playing?” I haven’t heard you play in forever.” I stopped to study his expression. “What brought this on?”

I didn’t answer immediately but instead cocked my head to the side and scrunched up my face. A playful expression that said I’m thinking. I should really tell Stanley a little bit about The Discount Life. He deserved that. So I said, “Remember when I cleared out my closet?”

“Did you find the violin in there?”

“No. But it started something in me. It wasn’t just cleaning out the closet.”

“Ohh-kay. What else was it then?”

“It was kind of metaphorical, you know? Of my life. I wanted to whittle down the junk so I could find what I treasured. The closet was just a start really.”

“What you treasure. So the violin?” He wanted a point by point discussion.

“The violin is one of the things I want. I used to play really seriously. I guess…I guess I stopped right around the time we got together.”

“You played some. I’ve heard you play.” There was something defensive in his tone.

“Yeah. I did for a while.”

“So are we moving to New York to turn you into Ishtak Perlman?” He was the only violinist people knew.

“No,” I laughed,” Baby steps. Maybe I’ll join a lower level orchestra.”

“You work for an orchestra you know.”

“I know but they’re done auditioning for violinist’s this year and they’re Philadelphia’s best. Maybe in the spring I’ll audition for them.”

“Sounds good,” he reached out and patted my shoulder, like football buddies who smack each other around to express affection. “ Good luck,” he said, pinning a closed lip kiss on my dry chapped lips. He turned, walked into the bathroom and closed the door. I felt a tear begin to well up in the corner of my eye. I focused on the ceiling and pushed it back in. One. Must. Maintain. Cheer.