The Discount Life: The closing of a Two Minute Movie Clip

You remember the Julia Robert’s two minute movie clip? The one where our beloved Julia spends two minutes running, walking, packing, generally cleaning up her life and becoming who she wants to be. And at the end Richard Gere overcomes his fears and climbs up the fire escape to - Get. His. Woman. Or Julia gets down on bended knee and hands over her running shoes. Either way they end, happily ever after, in a fairy tale. Much as I have dreamed of living this scenario, I would like to submit that the abstraction has royally interfered with our concept of reality.


The problem with the movies is the camera stops rolling right after “I love you” or “I do”. Richard Gere says, “I promise at some point one or both of us will want out...”. But we never see the fight that tests that proclamation. You never see that heartbreaking moment where Julia’s eyes fill with tears or Richard swats papers off the dining room table because he’s so mad he can’t stand it. No one wants to watch that movie. It’s too close to real life. Romantic comedies are experts at ending their scripts on the cusp of reality. They tell you there’s no such thing as perfection, then they lead to you believe it anyway.

I’ll do you a favor and tell you up front, so as not to mislead you: Peter Stone would no more turn out to be perfect than Oprah would turn out to be thin. They’ve both come close a few times but no dice. Starting with, he turned out to be incredibly stubborn. He always eats food off of your plate and for the life of him can’t seem to get the dishes from the sink to the dishwasher. But he rinses them before he walks away. That’s his saving grace. He makes me laugh and on more than one occasion has made me cry. But Peter Stone, with all his imperfections, gave me one gift no one else had managed: balance. He knew when to push and when to be gentle. He knew when to laugh and when to be silent. He made a practice of reading me. He saw me too, only not like Christian – not as a prize he wanted so badly to win but wasn’t sure he deserved. He saw me more as something he appreciated. Something he’d like to join the study of. He was passionate but practical and the two sides of him surrounded me like weight scales on my left and right hands and taught me to learn not only myself, but the balance of life. In this way he was perfect and because of this I overlooked his propensity to say ‘Actually’, finger pointed at subject, whenever he was about to join a conversation or the way he always drives the speed limit, even when we are incredibly late. Peter Stone’s endearing quality is not a Ken and Barbie look or his Prince Charming countenance but instead that he came close and he was real. IS real. He is a teacher every bit as much as he is a loving partner. I am constantly amazed by him.

And that is where my two minute movie clip begins to wrap. For all the struggles I had undergone during the Discount Life, I was about to learn love. Real love. The kind you can wrap yourself up in forever and not hide, and not pretend and still not get lost in. The kind you don’t mind sitting across from, legs touching under a tiny table top in a coffee shop, and still waking up next to every morning. The kind that doesn’t ask you to be different than who you are but tests you every day to accept the same of your mate. The kind that helps you finally understand the saying “love is patient, love is kind” and still let’s you have some fun in that occasional dark alleyway somewhere. My two minute movie clip was ending and that means the rest of my life was just beginning. Love is funny that way. It makes you, one way or another.

But I’ve gotten ahead of myself. I pulled a romantic comedy on you and left off where I returned Peter Stone’s phone call and then I cut off your movie clip. He did not show up to my violin concert at the Metropolitan Museum that Thursday night. That was Andrew, sans Marie, who came gallivanting down the corridors, his dress shoes slapping the marble floor like webbed feet on cement, and engulfed me with his big bear hug.

“You did so great. You really did it. Look at you.” He crushed my ribs. I didn’t mind. I always felt at home hooked under Andrews’s arms. Hugging as tightly as he preferred, never mind my discomfort. That was Andrew’s way and always would be – to have you under his terms.

“Thanks. Thank you. I feel good.” It was an absolute truth. We played in the atrium of the Italian gardens. Philadelphia’s elite drank champagne and nibbled on miniature delights wrapped in bacon (even the Richie rich prefer something wrapped in bacon to something not wrapped in bacon). The night sky descended and exposed the sparkling stars. We were covered by a glass ceiling that left us feeling we were playing under God.

I asked, “Where’s Marie?” but Andrew did not have time to answer. Eloise came approaching. She said, “She’s great isn’t she?” to Andrew and patted my shoulder with her slender hands.

“She’s pretty amazing,” he said. “The whole concert was great.”

“Andrew, this is Eloise.” They exchanged their hello’s and were interrupted by the joyful eruption of Mel, who ran up to me with open arms, exclaiming, “You were soooo great. I’m so proud of you!”. Jack and Tucker followed closely behind her, their hands in their pockets until they reached me. Their hugs were gentle, one armed affairs. Slight and well intentioned.

“These must be the friends I’ve heard so much about,” Eloise said. I smiled, introduced them and couldn’t help but be inspired by this tall, elegant woman. She had the grace of a Siamese cat, tall and slender, and she carried herself like no thing could ever be big enough to shake her. Something told me that kind of confidence took years to build.

“You were great up there. So natural looking. I forgot it’s been ages since you really did this,” Mel said. “Everyone sounded amazing,” she said, turning toward Eloise. “I’m really impressed by you all.”

“Thank you, “ Eloise said. “I’m impressed by you also. Something makes me think your friend did so well because she had you all there behind her. ” Everyone gave an uncomfortable laugh. Eloise’s philosophical remarks had taken the air to another level. She made her pleasantries and excused herself shortly thereafter, leaving behind an aura of wisdom, as if to say my work here is done. We were momentarily quiet in her wake. Then Tucker broke the spell saying, “Interesting lady”, followed by, “is there any food in this joint? I’m hungry.”

We ended the evening with drinks and bar food at one of those pubs you can’t remember the name of that serves great fries and bad salad and is floor to ceiling with mahogany wood and old alcohol advertisements. Tucker had iced tea. He wore his new jeans. He’d cut his hair. Sitting across from him, I would never have known he’d been homeless seven months ago. He had come so far. To be clean, with cash and drinking iced tea. It was like watching an infant morph into an adult. He was in control of his life. I felt a swoon of pride at the thought that my little theory had had something to do with that. And Andrew, who later would explain to me that the last DLA meeting had gotten him thinking about his relationship with Marie, sat next to me with his hand on my leg and said, “You’ve really come full circle you know that? Remember sitting on my front porch, drinking that sangria and making that goals list? And now look at you. Crossing off one after another.”

“I’m proud of myself,” I said, “but I couldn’t have done it without you guys. I might not have had the strength.”

“You’re wrong, “ he said picking up his beer glass, “you always had the strength. You just wanted our reassurance.” He took a long slow drink of golden beer and then said, “You gave us the strength. Look at how our lives have changed since we’ve all started this thing. I just made the decision to end a relationship because I didn’t feel enough. That should tell you something. The old me would have stayed with Marie until I found the next girl. The new me let her go because he was thinking enough to realize that he was being complacent. That’s a lot of big thoughts for me.”

“I never would have thought it was possible,” I said, punching his arm and picking up a French fry.

“Me neither. That’s what I’m saying. You think we gave you the strength but really, Chloe, you taught us. Challenging us to live all the way is hard. And I fuck it up all the time but at least now I think about it. It’s been awesome. You’re awesome.” He looked in my eyes for a long time and I returned the stare. Then out of nowhere he said, “I love you Chloe.” And the sound of it sent shock waves through my body. In all our years of friendship he had never said that. He delivered it with a smile and a serious undertone. He didn’t laugh or make a sly comment to diminish its potency. He left it hanging in mid air and returned to his burger, no tomato and hold the lettuce. I hadn’t expected this from him and I couldn’t be sure how he meant it. I heard “I love you” and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that this would always be true but somewhere in the recesses of my heart, I heard Agnes’s voice. So I said “I love you too,” but I didn’t stay on it for long, and followed up with,” the real question is why didn’t you love Marie?” He crinkled his eyebrows and made a face that said come on, you know why.

“She wasn’t all the way. She was my way. Whatever I wanted. Whatever pleased me. It’s great. Really it is. To have someone that into you. You can do no wrong . But I was getting bored. I was working too hard at having a “relationship” instead of really loving her. Appreciating her. She’s great but for me, she was a discount. Discount girlfriend. So I broke it off.”

I bit into my hamburger at just the right moment. With a mouthful of cow, I did not have to respond to Andrew. I shook my head in concurrence with his dialogue and let it go at that. I was rid of Marie. Andrew had returned. This was the place I loved us the most. But the truth was there. It was there in things he didn’t do. He had said I love you but when I redirected the conversation he followed. He didn’t say - No, Chloe. I love you. Did you hear me? He didn’t say I mean it. He took the switch bait and went passively back to conversation. And somewhere in between I love you and the details on Marie, I think I knew, even if I didn’t admit it to myself right then, that though our love was forever and maybe it held traces of romance, it was not the kind you chase. A chase would kill it. Crush all the subtleties that made it so profound. And maybe consciously and maybe subconsciously, I followed the flow of conversation away from romance and said, “I have a date,” chomping through the last bits of my burger bite. “The realtor. He finally called. We’re going out next week.” I said it nonchalantly but in truth, I meant it as a test. He responded with “Good” but I saw his eyes dart down to his plate. I almost thought he caught his breath but I didn’t want to kid myself.

“What did you say to upset Andrew over there?” Tucker asked. There was a long pause, neither one of us answering, neither one of use sure of what had just transpired.

“We were talking about Agnes, “I lied. Andrew smiled ever slightly – so slight it was undetectable if you weren’t looking.

“Damn shame,” Tucker said, “and no change in her yet. I’d I’ve thought she’d be kickin’ herself out by now.” The conversation grew dim and gloomy until Jack bought a round to toast to Agnes and then me, saying “To Chloe for making it one step closer to all the way.”

When the night was over Andrew said, “I’ll walk you to your car…” This was not unusual. Andrew and I had spent plenty of time walking from place to place alone. But the energy in the air was different. Electric. The kind of jolt that put you on edge. The kind you might mistake for chemistry. And before the night was over he kissed me. He thought about it, I could tell. You could see him thinking, should I do this, just before he grabbed my waist, pulled me to him and kissed me softly on the mouth. I kissed him back. And something in it felt good and solid. Something in it felt like the quench of a red, white and blue popsicle on the fourth of July – a match that made you nostalgic and brought you back to all the memories that sustain you. When he pulled back and looked into my eyes, I searched his for a reaction. Then I kissed him back. We did this for what seemed like a long time, up against my car, his hands feeling my torso. The platonic body he had always known. The same curves he had held a hundred times before - at a dance in college or picked up after a victory during a game of touch football. But this was different. This time it was giving for him under his touch. I can’t say this was bad. It was wonderful. His mouth on my mouth, knew each other with such depth we hardly felt the space between us. But I also couldn’t help but feel that something between us was closing. All this time we had been exploring the what if?  plausibility. Now, every kiss felt first tantalizing and then like a confirmation; a goodbye. There was a place between the carnality against my car and sitting on the front porch with a glass of sangria, that Andrew and I existed best. It took me a while- that night, the next day, the weekend, to dissect all the emotion down to this one last thought: that spot between romance and brotherhood was where we belonged.

I didn’t hear from Andrew again for a few weeks, which was not entirely surprising, considering his tendency to disappear when things were left undefined. But this time it felt different. This time there was actually something to digest. I called him. I sent him a note: “Don’t be a jackass. Call me back. “ and signed it “still your friend – Chloe”. He didn’t respond. I wouldn’t see him until my marathon. Until after my first date with Peter. Until after my second date with Peter. I hiked Grandfather Mountain – with Peter. By the time I saw Andrew again, silence had made the transition for us. We were like brand new people learning each other all over again. Today our friendship is solid. But the weeks in between felt like a slow and untimely death of something that had meant more to me than any romance I’d ever had.

(Next:  a bridal shower, a date, a marathon.....leads Chloe one step further to the close of the DLA)