Birds of a Feather

Chapter Three

Unfortunately, I started my career as Cecelia Worth with only one completed draft, an idea, and enthusiasm. My eagerness and excitement about becoming a published author allowed me to spend many late nights writing my second novel and meet my second deadline. But, my third novel was no coming together so easily.

The waitress came back and sat down my Diet Coke and a paper wrapped straw. I thanked her, unwrapping the straw and taking a sip. Cal should walk through the door any moment now. I glanced down at my manuscript—an unforgivably black and white cluster of Times New Roman letters that seemed to mock the fact I could not produce more.

I'd gotten the idea from my neighbor's long haired tabby cat, Petunia, who will occasionally perch on the small metal railing of my balcony. She will mewl at me until I open the door and run my fingers over her ears. Occasionally, I'll toss her some left over chicken breast or plain tuna.

It was one of these days that the concept came to me. Petunia purred as I considered the idea of a cat who belonged to two neighbors, each who believed the cat liked them best, and both who disliked the other due to some prior run in. Yet, when the cat goes missing and rumors circulate that a cat killer is in the midst of their neighborhood, the two neighbors come together to find and save their beloved feline.

I was about ten thousand words in at this juncture. The two neighbors—whom I have since named Audrie and Liam—have discovered their cat's collar two streets over from their apartment building. The issue is that I did not know where to go from here. I need to build their relationship and the suspense, but the words, the ideas, the fragments of their forming relationship simply will not come.

The door of the cafe enters a woman roughly around my age walks in. I wonder if this is Cal and move to introduce myself when I noticed the waitress hand her a to-go order and she takes her leave.

I frown and check the time: 7:31.

Cal was now over half an hour late and my Diet Coke sat nearly empty on the table, a ring of condensation forming around it from the melted ice. I glanced around and noticed that it was only me and the teenager left in the cafe.

It was already dark outside and the constant stream of headlights down Madison Avenue was slowly beginning to thin. I remembered that Cal had given me their phone number in one of their emails.

Me: Hey Cal! It's Cece! Just wanted to check and make sure we are still on for tonight?

I sat my phone down and began typing a scene that would surely get cut. It was about ten minutes later when my phone dinged, cutting through the content silence of the cafe.

Cal: Oh my god, I just got home from work a couple hours ago and fell asleep on the couch. Give me 30 minutes and I'll be there

I frowned, feeling the line between my brows form. I let out a small huff and began packing my things up.

Me: No, it's okay. Don't worry about it. Some other time :) 

I walked out onto the sidewalk outside the cafe. It had grown at least ten degrees colder since I arrived and I crossed one of my arms over my body as I started the walk back to my apartment. It was only a few blocks, but the bitter January air pierced through my coat.

After about a block, my phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi, honey."

"Hey, mom, what's up? Why you calling so late?"

"Sweetie, we have something to tell you. We wanted to do this in person, but unfortunately things are moving along quicker than I expected." She took a deep breath and I could feel the tension in my mother's neck in her voice. A siren sounded in the distance and I shivered from the breeze off Lake Washington.

"Your father and I are getting a divorce."

The bitter cold shot straight through my body and to my heart.

"What?"

"I know this seems sudden and probably unexpected--"

"Unexpected! Mom, you've been married almost thirty years!"

"I know, Cece. Listen, I know that just because you're an adult that doesn't mean this won't be difficult for you. But, your father and I have just grown apart these last few years. With both you and Quinn are out of the house, we realized we don't really feel the same way about each other anymore."

I wasn't sure if my fingers were red from the cold or from gripping the phone so tightly. How could you fall out of love after loving someone for so long? If someone loved me, would I always have to worry that they may one day wake up after our kids are grown and realize they don't love me anymore?

I write romance novels because I know loves like that can't happen in real life. But, my parents were the closest thing I ever knew to a real life romance novel. When they first met in college, Mom had another boyfriend. That boyfriend ended up breaking her heart and cheating with her best friend. A complete romance novel cliche!

Discovering his infidelity while out of town, she called Dad to pick her up. He did and over the next two years, their close friendship turned into a "when will they finally just confess to each other" trope. Eventually, on the Fourth of July, while standing below the Space Needle, my dad did. A year later, that's where he proposed.

Throughout my childhood, they never seemed like there was any resentment or ill feelings. They fought, sure, but all couples do. Even after Quinn and I heard them arguing in hushed voices at night, Mom would still purposely burn the bacon in the morning because Dad liked it better that way. Dad kept a sweater on so Mom could keep the house cooler.

"I don't really know what to say." The night air was the only thing preventing me from burying myself deep into the pits of my thoughts and memories. There had to be some indication that their relationship wasn't working. Maybe it was more recent? The only thing I could remember was a small skirmish they had over Christmas when Dad forgot to pick up our aunt, uncle, and cousins from the ferry dock. It couldn't all stem from that, could it?

"I'll let you go, honey. I know it's later than I usually call, but I didn't want you to find out some other way. Try to get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay, love you, mom."

"Love you, Cece."

By the time she hung up the phone, I stood outside my apartment door. Despite the cold, I couldn't bring myself to go in just yet. My world felt as if it were snagged on a knitted sweater. In all the times I'd thought about falling in love myself, I, of course, worried about divorce. It was well known that around half of marriages end up ending in a courtroom.

But, I'd never imagined a marriage could dissolve like a drip of water eroding stone—slowly until it finally gave way. It always felt like once a marriage last so long; long enough for children to grow up that it would last forever.

A romance novel must have a happy ending. If it does not have a happy ending, it is not romance novel. Nicholas Sparks—for example—is often credited as a successful romance writer and one of the few male romance writers by people unfamiliar with this concept. He, however, is not a traditional romance writer and many of us shake our heads whenever someone says he's their favorite.

When it comes to happy endings, there are two kinds: the happily ever after and the happy for now. The happily ever after is the traditional fairytale ending seen in Disney and Many Hallmark movies. It's the idea that now that this couple is together, they will be forever.

Many modern romance books and movies though rely more on reality than they used to. This is where the happy for now ending comes in. This is where the story ends with the characters happy, but no definitive "after" implied. In some cases, authors may do this because the book is in a series, or because the story itself simply doesn't call for a happily ever after.

Even more so though, romance readers and writers are people. We understand that what we enjoy writing and reading simply does not exist in real life Therefore, if we can make it a tad more realistic, give it just a dose of reality, it somehow sweetens the story and gives hope that maybe it is attainable after all.

Because—we all know—there's only two ways for a true love story to end. Divorce or death.