Why Blame When You Can Breathe?

DISCLAIMER: 'As Told by Ginger' is a creation of Emily Kapnek and is produced by Anivision, Klasky-Csupo and Nickelodeon/Viacom Networks. This author makes no claim to any properties herein and makes no monetary gain from its production. Please do not flame.

(Chapter 6- The Best Laid Plans)

I set the alarm for a quarter to seven for this Saturday morning and it rang right on cue. My best laid plan would be to get this over with as quickly as I could and that comes with a quick brushing of my teeth, washing my face and brushing my hair before changing into my outfit for the day. I've already showered so a light application of oils and deodorant are enough to freshen me up for this initial consultation. Looking myself over in the mirror, I feel like I've put on more than just my professional hat. The ensemble for today is navy blue; a pant suit with a small silver and pearl brooch pinned on the right lapel. Not gaudy in any sense, but indicative that I'm about business this bright April morning.

Remembering a note for me to see Mom before I left for the day, I walk towards the master bedroom dropping my work bag next to the entrance. Knocking three times, I hear a faint "Come in," and open the door to see mother at the foot of the bed with what appears to be a large book.

"Courtney, come sit with me," Mom says and I oblige taking a seat to her right. "You look great, dear," she compliments.

"Thank you, ma'am," I respond while looking over her shoulder. I see that what I thought was a large novel is actually one of our many photo albums.

Right now, she's looking at a page of photos where I am the primary subject. The first one I notice is a picture of me graduating from etiquette school. That photo was taken before I went to the third grade. "I remember that," I say, starting the conversation. "The teacher came from England, we all got to dress up in elegant costumes and have a light meal every day for four weeks. It was a lot of fun."

"And you learned a lot," Mom adds. "More than I did during etiquette school. Look right next to it." The photo was actually in the corner of this page and there were three other photos adjacent to it. Mom pointed to the one on its right; it's a picture of me about to go to a school dance. Not to brag, but I looked really cute in a baby blue camisole underneath a white denim jacket, matching jean skirt and my hair tied up into a French twist.

Mom says, "Even back then, you never stopped surprising me," and it hits me. I knew why she pointed out this photo. Let's just say back in the day, I was more than just the apple of my mother's eye. I wanted to be just like my Mom as I saw her as the true personification of beauty. She was more than delighted to have her only daughter join her in shopping sprees, beauty treatments, including trips to the hair salon, gossip and how to be a prim and proper attention grabber of the opposite sex.

As for that last one...I definitely failed, but that's where we go back to the photo of me before the dance. That's the night I also had my first kiss with one of my female classmates.

Her name was Jennifer Van der Garde and she was a quiet but kind blonde who arrived in January that year as a transfer student. She had been in our elementary school for three months. I don't know what happened but around the third month, I found myself sneaking glances at her now and then. Jennifer had these cute looks and expressions like how she'd chew on her eraser when pondering the answer to a question. That same thing would occur during lunch in the cafeteria or at recess and, lest I forget, she was always dressed in trendy and unique combinations.

An hour into the dance, she asked if I would accompany her to the restroom. I did and once going inside noticed no one else in there. She directly asked me, "Are you attracted to me, Courtney?" while pointing out the times I'd check her out when I thought she wasn't looking. I was young and had only a faint idea of what homosexuality was. My family didn't talk about it much and most of my experience came from kids when they called something (or someone) they didn't like 'gay'.

As far as the question, I certainly thought I was attracted to Jennifer. The problem is, I wasn't certain of my feelings. I didn't answer her pointed question right away. Instead, I put my head down and admitted, "I don't know. I'm scared," I said to her. "I've had these feelings about other girls for awhile, but...I'm not a freak, I swear!"

As I ran to the door, she grabbed me by the hand and turned me around before I could leave. I'm certain Jennifer saw my tear-washed face and probably wanted to mock me some more for my foolishness and spread this news through school like a California wildfire.

She lifted my chin and, instead, asked me, "Who said anything about you being a freak?"

I was left speechless and couldn't answer except to stumble over my own words, saying, "But people say-I mean, I heard that…"

Jennifer stopped me to ask if it mattered what people said if it meant I could be happy. I shook my head. I still couldn't say much as petrified as I was. "Courtney, look at me," she told me. I did so and she then asked, "So, you're not sure if you are gay or not, right?" I really wasn't and no one ever confronted me about it. No one I knew had these feelings and whenever you heard of it, the results were not good. People's reputations were ruined or they got shunned by friends and family.

At that point, I thought Jennifer would suggest I speak with a counselor. I had no interest in doing that, especially in this curious state. I wondered if I could just have her forget this and leave well enough alone. Then, in a situation I could neither fathom nor expect, she asks, "Courtney, would you like to kiss me?"

She then clarified, asking me if I wanted to kiss her to find out, and honestly I did. Looking back now, it was silly to suggest that a single kiss with a girl would give me the answer I was looking for, but damn it I was desperate and afraid that I might actually be different. Outwardly, I was as girly as they came. I still am to an extent. I assumed that lesbians were these strange, masculine women with short haircuts, tenor voices and an unhealthy obsession with leather and flannel fashion. So sue me. I was ten and everything seems terrifying at that age if you don't have a full grasp of it.

So I nervously told Jennifer, "Yes, I would like to kiss you. Is that okay?" And she did not answer me verbally. Instead she walked towards me step by step, staring me down eye to eye. Then she leaned in, turned her head and pressed her lips against mine.

For all the pitfalls in my life that would come, I have to be honest in saying it was the first time in my life that I did something on my own that made perfect sense. I always followed the advice of my folks or did for myself when others said I should and this time, the moment and the spotlight was all on me and I shined. I backed away from this kiss after about five seconds and thought the smile on my face would have to be surgically removed. Those giddy feelings lasted all of four days.

After the kiss Jennifer informed me that this would be our little secret, which I agreed and we left to go back to the dance. I wanted to kiss her again, but perhaps we'd have to have another joint bathroom break. I wouldn't mind. The dance was on Friday night and the following Tuesday morning, I didn't see Jennifer. Then, out of the blue, I got called to the principal's office. While there, I encountered the school guidance counselor, the principal, my mother, Jennifer and her father. That kiss sent me from cloud nine to Dante's ninth circle of hell in half a week as a certain someone left their diary out in the open. Jennifer's cat curious parents took a peek and were shocked to discover an entry about their daughter 'kissing a real princess of a girl'.

She looked absolutely despondent as the principal and Jennifer's father explained what they found and what Jennifer told them. My heart ached for her at that moment and I decided to take the heat off of her as much as I could. "I'm sorry," I blurted. "It was a stupid dare!" I didn't want anything to happen to her, so I said that the kiss was a dare I wanted to see how far we could take.

It worked...to a point. I got suspended for five days for the kiss, told not to mention this incident with anyone, moved to the other fourth grade class, ordered to attend individual therapy with a child psychologist as a condition to prevent expulsion and told to limit my contact with Jennifer. Ultimately, Jennifer's family moved again between school years. At the same time I got closer with another classmate of mine, though the initial feelings were far more platonic; Miranda Killgallen. After this incident, I knew to suppress these emotions for other girls and did so for several years up until first encountering Ginger Foutley the first time.

"We haven't talked about this much but you really did have feelings for that girl, didn't you?" my Mom inquires.

"It's complicated, to be honest," I admit. "You have to understand, Mom, I was very, very young and didn't know what was going on with me. Didn't even know there was such a thing as bisexuality. She was very pretty, though. I'll say that much."

"Not so surprising now that you've married and divorced another woman."

That stung. I let Mom know as much, along with airing my offense with the remark, saying, "You know there's no need to go there at all. Miranda is far from just any other woman and you know that."

"You-You're right," Mom says defensively. "I'm sorry. I thought...damn it, Courtney, I've done the best that I can to understand this. It's hard to comprehend a 23-year-old phase as a reality, so I won't even bother with that. It's just-I know you have those parents that say they knew at a young age. Not me. I just couldn't fathom my daughter being a significant other to someone else's daughter. Not in a million years. Maybe back then I denied it and thought 'She just needs to meet the right guy and you'll never hear about this again.' My pipe dream never came to pass and here we are again. Several more days older and hopefully wiser. At least I like to think I'm no longer in denial. "

I might as well just say it; ever since I came out to my family it's been implicitly tough. When you tell your folks that you're not straight at age 20, you hope for three things. One is that they take the news as easily as possible, two is that they had some sort of hint making the blow feel not as hard. Number three, and most important, is that they'll love and support you no matter what. In my case, just under two out of three isn't so bad. Obviously neither of my folks have disowned me, which is excellent. But while my dad gives me his full support, including going to PFLAG meetings and rallies with me, my mom still finds it rough.

You have to see things from Claire Gripling's perspective and I've had enough time to do just that. Obviously she loves me, but consider someone who knew nothing but the comprehensive tenets of upper-class femininity while growing up learning to express them all with no effective room for compromise. That person then gives birth to me who while initially appearing to be their carbon copy and a popular girl in all respects, lost more than just standing and money during my high school years; I lost innocence, but I blame no one for that because it was bound to happen.

One thing I refuse to have my Mom do is blame anyone, including herself, for the fact that I prefer women. "Mom, please understand…"

Mom raises up her hand, saying, "Just let me finish, please. Though you may do things I don't understand or comprehend, that doesn't mean I love you any less, Courtney. Besides, I wouldn't want to miss out on the progress my only daughter has made in her career. You've done quite well for yourself and...as I look at you here this morning, it's easy to see the truly beautiful woman you've become. I can't deny that and I'll never deny you-all of you-as long as there's breath in me."

It's good to hear that despite our differences. Again, I know Mom doesn't hate me for this. It's just unexpected for her, and I can respect that. "Thank you, Mom, and let me be clear. You don't have to understand everything to be in my corner. Your support, Dad's support, my brother, sister-in-law and my family and friends-that's all I need. Not only being my ally as a queer woman, but in my profession, including signing Ginger to this contract. You're support means the world, and I love you too, mom."

I lean in to give Mom a hug, but she puts her hand up again. I'm confused, but she says, "So we've established feelings for Jennifer when you were young. Miranda is in the state records, but I'm curious. What about Ginger Foutley...Patterson?"

Ouch! Mother can be accused of aloof behavior, including ostrich syndrome when it came to my orientation, but she hit the hammer to the nailhead when it came to her reasoning. My face pales as she says Ginger's married name, and I believe that's all that my Mom needs to know to get her answer.

Then I look away from her as she shakes her head in clear disapproval. "Really, Courtney? Come on. You know better. Your father and I really do like the Pattersons. Darren, Ginger and Kailani are a great family and...again; nothing will stop me from loving you. I don't expect you to control how you feel towards someone, but you have no right to pursue anybody if they don't respond in kind and especially if they're already in a relationship."

"Mother," I reply in an attempt to be cool under pressure after hearing this. While lifting a finger towards her direction, I make it clear that "I am here on a strictly professional basis to help Ginger promote her novel. You know this. You're in the same camp as Miranda and, with all due respect, it's pissing me off. Did I have feelings for Ginger? Yes, but my focus right now is on her business. I don't see why given all of that, I can't assist a friend for her sake. My boss happened to find Ginger and sent her case my way because I'm qualified to handle it. I can't help how it got to me, so I'll just do my part to help her and...hopefully come out of it with a friendly relationship."

Mom, at this point, closes the photo album and breathes in a deep sigh. Tossing the album towards the bed head, she says, "Come here," as Mom reaches to give me a hug. While still in the embrace, she says, "I want to believe you, Courtney, but your reputation kind of precedes you with attractive females. Nevertheless, you're right. You have a job to do. I won't keep you from giving it your all for Ginger. So while you wait for your car, you can use mine. I don't have much else to do today. Focus on your task, don't forget what I said and please, please be careful. You understand?"

I nod. What can I do but tell Mom that I'll be careful? Like Dad yesterday evening, I give her a kiss on the forehead and let her know that I'll see her later that afternoon and shut the door behind me.

Now I'm heading down the stairs with work bag in hand. Before walking towards the door, I grab an apple from the kitchen table. Checking for keys, I see a set next to one of the house phones. It is to Mom's blue BMW and as I grab it, I know I'm ready.

This apple just won't cut it for today. I'll need a complete breakfast for the day so I can go to Ginger's place and get down to business. I know the way as Mack gave me the directions to her home one week after I accepted the assignment. It's only a couple of minutes from my folks home and in the same upscale development.

Checking the clock, I see the time is just after 8:30 in the morning. I think I've hyped myself up a bit too much for what one party expects is a meeting between total strangers. Again, it is Saturday. I don't know how Saturdays work in the Patterson house but when I was with Miranda, she'd get up at ungodly times on Saturday mornings to watch European football. I'd join her several times and actually became a casual fan of the sport. Still find the 'offside' rule to be a real puzzler, but I digress.

I check the refrigerator for anything breakfast related. I see assorted vegetables in the crisper drawer, a small batch of leftovers from yesterday's party and near-empty cartons of orange juice and milk, but no eggs. Nothing screams 'complete breakfast', so here's my plan. I'm going to the market to pick up items for the week and then come back to get a full meal with enough time to see Ginger at 11:00 a.m.

Exiting the house I get a glimpse of the sun draping the fresh cut grass and then hitting my eyes with the force of a billion flashlights as I look upward. I shake it off and then shut off the alarm to my mother's car. From there, I enter, strap in, turn the key and change the station from her classical to my classic rock station. The same one I enjoyed since leaving Connecticut for Los Angeles.

They're playing Right Here, Right Now by Jesus Jones which is one of those signs that I'm getting old. I was only three when this hit the radio and it's now considered 'classic'. I drive off and pay attention to any incoming traffic while listening to the lyrics of the song. They play in my head and I need to remind myself to put the song on my playlist for later as I find that it still resonates after all this time. That news can happen at the blink of an eye. That today's revolution becomes tomorrow's history quicker than the night becomes the day. Perhaps it's not a stretch to call some hits from my generation cult classics. I do enjoy hidden gems of that sort.

As I make my way to the market, I ponder the feeling for another moment. You know of a song, movie or show from days past that you grow to love when you get older, right? Well, that's like what happened when I adjusted the radio and heard that song. It's as if I discovered a new friend whom I've known for much of my life...in a manner of speaking.

Life happens to us in many unique ways that we don't immediately catch. Eventually, if our aim is to grow up, we can't help but learn from these moments. For our household, that way of life is now a three-way street as Darren and I tend to Kai this Saturday morning. For all the excitement of her getting to sleepover with friends and not family for the first time, life came crashing down for my daughter She had a rough night last night, but will be fine.

As I bring up a meal of toast and jam, orange slices, dry corn flakes and a glass of seltzer water, I already hear the commotion coming from Kai's room. I see and hear from my vantage point in the upper hallway Darren speaking with Kai, presumably to give her a message of encouragement and a reminder that this incident is not the end of the world.

"Daddy, I just can't believe that happened," Kai speaks to her father. "They're all gonna laugh at me at school Monday, I know it! I won't be able to show my face when they hear this!"

"Listen, Kai. Sweetheart," I hear Darren say while holding our daughter's right hand. "This is...look, maybe they will. Okay. So they'll laugh for a bit, but they'll soon forget and move on to the next thing. You'll be fine. You're not the first little girl that had something like this happen."

"No, I did far worse than other girls," Kai says. I catch her turn away from Darren, declaring, "Daddy, please. I just want to go to sleep."

"No, Kai," Darren says, putting his foot down. "You told me and mommy that you wanted to go to sleep last night and you did. Now it's time for you to get something in your tummy and just talk about this! Listen, it happened all the time for you when you were younger. Last night, something probably didn't agree with you. It happens to all of us. If you asked one of your classmates, they'd probably say the same thing happened to them. It's no different than me with black pepper or your Uncle Carl with peanuts. Hey, remember when your Uncle Will got stung by those bees last year? He could've died. I'm glad you just threw up. You're lucky."

"But I didn't just throw up, daddy," Kai counters as I continue to listen not so interested in interrupting an important father-daughter moment. "I did worse. Even with you, Uncle Will and Uncle Carl, I'm sure they didn't end up throwing up on Kayla right as we sing Happy Birthday."

I start to giggle and I know I shouldn't be giggling. This is part of the reason I didn't want to go into Kai's room as I know I'd hear that and the absurdity of the scenario would get me. Indeed, the pangs of laughter hit me again and I'm glad my girl didn't see me, much less hear me. I'll let it out before she gets her breakfast, but it's still crazy to imagine that situation as it took place.

Darren and I were actually at the house party with the Griplings for their guest of honor only to get a call from the mother of Kayla, the birthday girl, explaining what happened to me on my cell. She took it in stride and said she offered clean clothes and medicine, if needed. Kai told her friend's mother that she just wanted to go home. So before Darren and I could find out who the Griplings were so excited to welcome into their home, we had to leave.

Before getting Kai, we picked up a few things from the store. Saltine crackers, seltzer water, a pack of ginger ales and the pink stuff in the bottle; all for the upset stomach. We picked up Kai after about 20 minutes and spent the ride home trying to get her to talk about the situation, but she just wanted to go to sleep and made it crystal clear that she had no interest in talking about throwing up on her classmate.

As I walk into her room tray in hand, I make one thing clear. "You need to put something in you, Kai. I'm not gonna stuff you like a Thanksgiving turkey, but at least have some of what I spent time to make. I'm sure you'll feel better if you do."

Her head drops down a bit and I believe I caught a bit of resolve in her demeanor. Looking back up at me, she asks, "This won't happen again, right?"

Putting the tray next to Kai, I admit to her, "I can't guarantee that something like this won't happen again, honey. You probably won't do that to someone else, but sometimes we'll either have too much of something or the wrong thing. Usually, it's one of the two." Kai slowly picks up her toast while I speak, bringing it to her mouth and then taking a large bite. I cast a glance towards Darren, who nods his approval. While we watch our daughter eat, another thought comes to mind. "Kai, think carefully. Do you remember what you ate before this happened?"

As Kai reaches for the seltzer water, she stops to consider what might have caused her to throw up. "I didn't eat that much." She takes a few gulps of her water and then says, "I had pigs in a blanket, tacquitos, chicken fingers, mac and cheese balls, nachos, french fries, fried candy bars..."

"But you didn't have that much, right?" Darren questions and I have to agree. It's a wonder why we even wondered about this for as long as we did. Kai eats like a bird most days. She's healthy and eats well, don't get me wrong, but takes her time eating and is often the last to finish her plate even if she has the least amount of food. Around social gatherings, however, she tends to let loose. I think when people tell Kai she can help herself, she holds them to their word. Darren and I hold a stronger standard, though. She'd often mention coming home with tummy aches after visits with her grandparents or her uncles and I should've seen this given that it's her first sleepover with friends. As Darren and I said she'll live and I as she continues to eat her breakfast, I'm now sure of that.

So for now, I'll put a visit to the doctor on hold but give her a kiss on the cheek. While eye to eye with Kai, I have only a simple request for my daughter. "Just take it easy, know your limit and you'll be fine. I love you, Kai. Finish your breakfast, put it to the side and get some rest. Daddy or I will get it later. Right now, I have to get ready for this business meeting."

"Okay, mommy," she says as Darren and I walk out of Kai's room and shut the door behind us.

Once the door closes, Darren makes the comment, "She sure has her moments, huh?"

I chuckle. "Of course she does. She's part of our crazy-as-a-catfish in the doghouse family." As we head down the stairs, I reply facetiously, "What do you think?"

"I think," he replies, "she will probably look back and laugh at this within the next year...and I also think she gets it from your side of the family."

"Oh, is that so?" I ask, taking exception to the focus being on the Foutley end of the gene when it comes to blame. "Darren, I recall when we got engaged. Your father treated me like he was welcoming me into the Cosa Nostra when I've known him just as long as I've known you! He acted like you were his daughter and I was some horny boy trying to make inroads. For goodness sakes, when my real dad wasn't around, he was practically my surrogate!" He puts his hand up in protest and I say, "And before you bring up my brother, I'll have you know that accusing Carl of being crazy is like calling out the dog for chasing the mailman. That's just what they do. We can't help it so all we can do is love it."

"That is your philosophy," Darren agrees. "I have to wonder what he'd think about us right now, though."

"Whatever he wants. He's his own man," I figure. Darren has always been self-conscious about matters pertaining to his dad, and I can understand the reason why. "Your dad was probably testing me back then, but the truth is...we've passed, right? All couples have what our therapist called the mountain moment. They see the mountain in their lives, whatever it may be, and decide whether to climb it together or separately. Darren, we've done it together better than we could've ever done apart and come back better equipped for the next of life's peaks and valleys."

"Yeah, I'm at the point that I feel...there's nothing that will keep me from those I love. It's about Kai at the end of the day. The house, the nice cars, the great amenities-they can all take a hike as long as I know she's doing well. I just...more than anything, I pray that whatever it takes that what we're both doing is all worth it and that our work is for the right reasons. What we put in now we can invest in her later. I see special things in her and want to cultivate it...without giving her some sense of entitlement neither of us had.

"Listen, Ginger. I know your agent is coming in a few hours, so I'll go to the office in a bit and leave you two to your devices. I shouldn't be long. Okay?"

"Okay," I tell Darren before giving him a kiss on the lips. As he goes back upstairs I'm encouraged in a sense by what he said. We've had some disagreements about Kai, maintaining a happy home for our daughter and what, precisely, those goals mean for our professional lives. The past few weeks, however, have gone quite well for both of us. The 'girls weekend' was a big success and that's led to even more study nights with our daughter combined with getting her prepared for the sleepover that ended up as a bust. Those unfortunate moments will happen, but I'm glad to have had these moments with her and am certainly looking forward to many more once my book launches this fall.

It doesn't hurt that Kai is at an age where she recognizes the fact that her parents get to work and take on different roles beyond being her provider, though that is of the utmost importance to Darren and I as parents. My primary point is that it's always good to be well-rounded. I have been willing to concede as much to Darren in the past few months while he sets aside more time for Kai by prepping members of his management team to take over so he doesn't have to constantly be at the office to handle business or at a local club that can use the touch of a helping hand.

Well, it's been about fifteen minutes or so. With the exception of my personal office, I've cleaned up the main floor for my guest. I can't tell you for certain when she will be here, but Mack said late yesterday evening that if I don't see the agent between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m. to call him. I won't complain too much about that, I really can't if I'm honest, but that's the same time frame that every cable company in the nation will give a new customer. Rarely do I leave as satisfied for their services as I'm ardently hoping for Westwood and Beyond. After all I'm not getting these services on the cheap, but I just have to look at it as a long-term investment that can reap untold rewards for my family.

Darren comes back down the stairs with Kai's empty tray as I make a move to my office. He kisses me twice on my cheek telling me he's going to the office to check another potential location for Elements in Brooklyn while leaving the tray on the kitchen countertop. He adds that he let Kai know this before going back downstairs. I wish him luck and he walks out the door leaving me with only one potential distraction in the home, with all due respect to my daughter.

One final check of the kitchen, including placing the dishes in the dishwasher and the tray into a container next to the refrigerator, and I leave there to get my office ready. Opening the door inside, I know I have my work cut out for me. The good news, though, is that it's almost 10 a.m. leaving me plenty of time to get this done. Again, cable company times like these are erratic, but I'm certain I will have time for this. I assess the room and see several boxes of books. If I get them out of here, this place will be far more presenting. The only question is...where do I put them? There are about eight of these boxes in all and most of them are filled with hardcover books of mine.

I start with one unopened box near my feet and pick it up to bring it to our coat closet. It's got weight to it, but nothing I can't manage. Opening the closet, it does appear that there will be enough room for more than half of the boxes in my office. Making room in the closet, I place this first box inside and then walk back to my office to grab another weighty box. I repeat this process four more times and snugly store six of the boxes into the closet with very little room, even for a windbreaker.

That leaves two left in my office; the two with the fewest number of books. So I condense the copies of my short story collection and copies of my poetry book into one box. I take the empty box to the kitchen to cut the tape and collapse the box for recycling on Monday morning. I actually now have room in my office to see what needs to be cleaned. The single box of books is the only item of note on the floor. I could do for a little bit of dusting and removing the paper trail from my desk, but beyond that there's not much else to do.

I vacuum the room moving the office chair and placing the box on top of my desk. Any other knick-knacks or assorted items out and in the open are placed into one of many of my desk drawers to organize later. I don't eat in here, so crumbs aren't strewn about in random areas requiring a more attentive touch than what I'm cleaning at the moment. That wasn't always the case, though. Until I noticed roaches scatter after I turned on the light one Sunday morning, my office was a dining room for all meals. After interrogation, Kai confessed to coming in my office to have either a quiet spot for homework or a downtime snack when I'm not home. Afterwards, I admit that some of my own actions may have contributed to the minor infestation but make a rule not to eat in the office so that the insect issue does not happen again.

All in all, cleaning the office doesn't take longer than ten minutes. The most difficult part was moving the boxes and now one doesn't have to worry about tripping when entering my space. There's only one box remaining and I know exactly what to do with it. Given that Darren will be out for a few hours, it won't hurt to move this box up to our room closet. It's not as heavy as the memoir or short story boxes in the closet as the poetry books are paperback. I walk up the stairs with the single box and encounter Kai, who is dressed up and appears no worse for wear from yesterday evening.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

"Yes, ma'am," Kai answers. "I feel better after having breakfast."

Just as I thought. "Well, I'm glad to hear that."

"Mommy, I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier," Kai says before I can speak to her about the upcoming meeting one more time. "I was...I got a little carried away with what went wrong last night. Daddy was right. They'll move on to the next thing soon and...even Kayla told me that she wouldn't say anything before you picked me up."

Nodding, I wonder if Kayla's mom primed her for that conversation. Nevertheless, I have to commend my daughter, saying, "That is very mature of you, Kai, and if Kayla said that and meant it, she's a true friend." While I'm not necessarily sure if that will wind up being the case down the line, it's always good to know who will have your back in situations where trust matters so much.

In any case, while still holding onto this box, I put it down on the ground, saying, "Listen, Kai. You know that the agent from California will be coming here at any time." She nods. We've discussed this quite a few times. "If you need something that only I can take care of at that moment, just let me know. I'm sure this agent won't mind if you call for me but, again, only if it's urgent. You understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," she responds. "Only if it's urgent."

She and I are on the same page and I give her a smile before ruffling her curly red hair, saying, "Atta girl. I'm gonna put this in my room. You can watch TV if you want. I'll be down in a bit. If you hear the bell, yell up to me and I'll come. Got it?"

"Okay, mom," Kai says as she walks downstairs to the den and I open the master bedroom, then our walk-in closet and finally put the cardboard box inside for now.

Heading back downstairs I see Kai enjoying a new generation of a show I enjoyed when I was her age. Heck, I had the merchandise and now she's watching the cartoon Our Pony Pals like my mom would some Saturday mornings with me. I don't say anything but just sit down next to her on our L-shaped couch and watch.

Back in my day, as old as it may make me sound, the cartoons meant 'for girls' looked it and felt it. You had bright pastel colors, an obvious focus on beauty, powers relegated to the emotions or feelings, goals of being the belle of the ball and finding Prince Charming. Those days, thankfully, as I see it, are over.

Girls in animation can kick butt, be beautiful, but also be smart, cunning, resourceful, in leadership positions and, considering my situation, I'm glad that they can also be of color and no one raises a fuss. It's good to see representation of all forms of womanhood on the screen, especially for my daughter who never has to feel one way or the other towards her heritage.

Our Pony Pals of this generation are no exception. Even men are getting into the craze, which I can't honestly say I would've expected growing up. Yet it's happening and I'm glad to live in a time when we can unapologetically express our fandoms and hobbies to the fullest. Life is too damn short not to and if it means that we positively contribute to our communities, who among us could argue with that? Certainly not me.

As Kai and I laugh at a joke with a bit of an adult flair to it about hot cross buns in the oven, we find ourselves watching our third episode in a row on the couch. She explains to me the names of the various ponies and their roles while I proffer personal proficiencies in past pony parables. I dare you to say that three times fast. Go ahead, do it now.

Anyhow, we come to find our experiences are not that different from me in the mid-90s to her in 2020. True bonding through the unique magic of these amazing technicolor equines takes place between mother and daughter...until I hear our doorbell. I check the cable box and see that the time is 11:28 a.m. "That must be her," I say out of pure instinct, though I can't be sure. That could be anyone at the door so I tell Kai that I'll be right back and make my way to the front door.

Before opening the door, I check the peephole and see a woman about my age on the other side. She's blonde, slender and professionally dressed to the nines. I don't quite catch the face of this person because she's wearing sunglasses, but I sense this is who I've been waiting for this morning.

I open the door and see her as she removes her glasses. I greet her, unconsciously, saying, "Good morning."

"Good morning," she replies and then asks, "Are you Ginger Foutley?" Indeed I am who she's looking for, but why am I not saying so? After hearing her voice, I now have to make sure my ears aren't deceiving me along with my eyes. I squint a bit while watching her. Again, she has long blonde hair, a thin build and a good looking blue pantsuit. She's awful familiar, but why?

What is it about this woman that I'm not catching? I have to know for certain. "Excuse me-I'm sorry. I am Ginger. I spaced out there for a second. Look, I don't mean to pry too much, but have we met before today? You remind me of someone I knew when I was younger."

Her eyebrows rise and then she places her left hand over her mouth. I think she was trying to catch a chuckle or snigger in her throat. Whatever it was, she composes herself, takes a deep breath and answers me, saying, "Um...yes we have, Ginger. It's me...Courtney Gripling. I'm your agent from Westwood and Beyond."

What? My mouth is agape. That makes no sense. I haven't seen Courtney since my wedding! Her mother keeps me apprised only to the point of saying that she's doing well in Los Angeles working for the entertainment industry. That's how Claire puts it to me, leaving out any of the more intensive details of her lifestyle. "Are you serious? Courtney?"

Before I can make any sort of remark upon hearing that one of my childhood friends is back in town to help me promote my novel, I hear the woman across from me say, "Hard to believe, huh? Well, read this." Courtney hands me a work ID badge. The name 'Courtney Gripling' is there along with her picture, the accompanying title of 'Public Relations-Marketing Agent' and the Westwood logo.

On the rear of the badge is the name of the guy I've been speaking to for the past several months, Mr. Mackaulay, along with his contact information and it's all accurate. I look at Courtney, then the badge and back to Courtney. There is one question left to ask and it makes too much sense to not be true. "Last night your parents threw a party and talked about welcoming a guest of honor. Darren and I have been to many of their parties in the past and they've never been more excited about a guest of theirs like they were yesterday. We were there but had to leave to take care of a family matter, so we didn't get to see who it was. Courtney, was it you?"

She nods and says, "Yes, Ginger. That was my welcome home party."

I turn away from Courtney for a second. Putting into perspective that the odds of something like this happening are enough to make master mathematicians go loopy. I look back at her, still in absolute disbelief, and exclaim, "You have got to be kidding me! Courtney, you're working for me?"

"Yeah. Surprise!" she says as if it was no biggie that we're reunited through these unique circumstances. "I knew about this...several weeks ago and got plenty of time to prepare. My boss has been raving about you since he gave me this assignment. He really wants you under his wing. Mack kept telling me you didn't want to know who it was and he respected that. It would've been nice to not have to shock you like this, but here I am ready to go. If I seem mellow to you, Ginger, I just want to remain professional. I've gotten to read your novel over the past six weeks and loved it. I've been constructing several potential ideas for promoting it, and..."

"Courtney, come inside," I say, waving off that talk for now to invite my old friend into my home. Courtney closes the door behind her and I call for Kai to come to the front door. While waiting for my daughter, I turn to Courtney and let her know, "If you're going to be here for the next five or six months, you're going to need to be introduced to someone in my family."

It doesn't take long before Kai is there, front and center. I direct her attention to the woman just in front of our door, saying, "Kai, this lady here is going to help me get my novel to as many people as she can. Believe it or not, Daddy and I went to junior high school with her a long time ago. This is-Miss or Mrs.?"

"Miss," Courtney answers laconically.

"Say hello to my old friend Miss Courtney Gripling. She's Mr. and Mrs. Gripling's daughter. Courtney, this is my daughter child Zola Kailani Patterson, but everyone calls her Kai."

"Hello, Miss Gripling."

I watch as Courtney goes down to one bended knee and shakes her hand, saying, "Well hello, Kai, and might I say you make up the best of both your mommy and daddy."

"Thank you, Miss," Kai says and I just have a giddy feeling right now as Courtney gets back up to her feet. I tell Kai that she can go back in the den and watch television. Before she does so, however, Kai looks up to Courtney, saying, "My mommy gets nothing but the best, Miss Gripling. That's what daddy always says, but mommy says once this book sells she and I will have more time together. Can you make that happen?"

"Kai!" I exclaim, not believing what my daughter just said to someone she just met. "Let me handle that! That's why Miss Courtney is here, after all."

Turning to Courtney, I attempt to apologize, but she says, "Oh, she's okay, Ginger. She's involved in the process to a point and has your best interests at heart."

Maybe, but still she's six. I couldn't possibly imagine telling my mom to take it easy on graveyard shifts at that age. "Kai, go back to the den. I don't think we'll be too long." She does so without fuss and I walk Courtney to my personal office.

She, presumably out of earshot of Kai, leans in as we make it to the door to tell me, "You have a beautiful daughter, Ginger."

"Oh, thank you Courtney," I say. Opening the door, I make the remark, "They broke the mold with her. Come on in," I tell her and we head inside with me shutting the office door ready to begin final proceedings for my latest work.

I don't quite know what I expected to come through my door this morning ready to see me to the homestretch of writing and publishing my novel. I suppose you could say it's just like Kai's unfortunate incident last night in that life just happened right now and I wasn't immediately prepared for it. As I often tell family, it's interesting how the stars align to make the impossible possible. All the troubles with my former representation have led me to this moment. I'm with a high-end agency in California for this project and maybe a few others to come. They think so much of my work that their chairman sent the top agent for the job. I didn't ask for it, he gave it to me and with the best comes expectations. I expected the best, for sure, but never could've counted on that meaning I'd get Courtney Gripling.

So on this first weekend of reunions, happy returns and a old friend back in town, we will get the ball rolling correctly. She claims to have come prepared. I'll be the judge of that, but also want to know a bit more about this. I'm sure working in the land of stars has kept her busy. Now, back in Connecticut, I hope she'll drop that professional hat a time or two and sit down with me some days without even talking about my novel. My old running mates aren't that far, per se. Nowhere near as far as Prescott and Claire are from their son, daughter-in-law and grandsons, mind you, but it's not as if even me, self-employed freelancer that I am, will go at a moment's notice three-and-a-half hours to Dodie in Dover, or even four-and-a-half hours to Macie in Washington, D.C. After all, they have to be prepared for my visit, along with their significant others and, in Dodie's case, her kids, then I have to travel that same amount of time to get back home.

It'll be nice to have someone close working with me to help make this whole matter easier for me. We haven't seen each other in a while, but I know our folks keep in touch. I'd...really like Courtney to come back in my life at some level. Someone to talk to in person and speak about things Darren won't necessarily grasp...that can't hurt. It would be, to make my NYU professors happy, serendipitous splendor to have Courtney feel that way too, and make this about more than promoting a novel.

She has to, right? I was a real friend once. I wouldn't mind being one again for her and her for me. Though I've barely seen her since high school, I miss her. From what I remember, she was genuine. A tremendous quality to possess and, if that's remained and if Hollywood hasn't changed her, I think great things will happen these next few months.

We just have to start work on those best laid plans. So, let's roll up our sleeves and get to it!

A/N: So, I'm going to take a little break on this story and allow the chapters to breathe for a bit (pun not intended). I expect the next chapter to come around August and to whet appetites, I will give Courtney's perspective on meeting Ginger for the first time in many years and bring in a few more characters from the show for their first appearances in this story.

If you have any questions or comments about the story, don't hesitate to drop a review. Also, check out my deviantArt page for character and story notes that I post from time to time.

Until next time, this is Rave!