Step Five

The car ride was silent, something Gillian was very thankful for. She had so many things to think about. For the first time in her life, the nerdy girl from the debate team was noticed, singled out, loved. The man in the driver's seat next to her had been a stranger, once. And yet, he loved her. He could have kept up the charade for much longer than he had—he'd ended it because he chose to tell her. He ended it because she was precious to him. There were people who thought of her as gifted, and others who thought she was nice. Her roommates told her that she was easy to get along with, her friends said she was dependable, and her parents often reminded her that she did them proud. No one had ever looked at her the way that Alec did, as if she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And what had she ever done to deserve it? Hadn't she tricked him into taking her out for an evening he couldn't afford? And wasn't she asking him to do the same now?

"What's going on?" she said.

"I'm sorry?"

"What's going on here?"

"Well," Alec said, the confusion showing plainly on his face, "I'm driving you to Nordstrom's. I thought I told you."

"No, that's not what I mean. What's going on with us? Why are you doing this for me?"

If anything, he seemed more perplexed. "I thought I made that very clear in the apartment."

She didn't know why, but she was on the verge of tears. It felt silly, but for some reason or another, she just wanted to fall apart.

"Why me? Why did you ask me to dinner after the meeting? Why did you keep calling me? Why do you want me here? Why?"

The sobbing came before she could hold it back. It was illogical and completely ridiculous, but the tears refused to stop coming. Wasn't now the time to be happy? Wouldn't any girl be thrilled to be loved by someone like Alec? It was her stupid scientific brain that was causing all of the problems. It couldn't understand why this outcome was the result of the variables that had been presented, and it had to know why. Their story had turned from fantasy to reality, and in reality, it had to make sense. It had to.

She looked up and saw that Alec had pulled over. She flinched at first when she felt his hand stroking her mousy hair, but after a few seconds, it felt very comforting. Then, she felt his other arm take her by the shoulder and pull her towards him. The car was silent except for Gillian's painful, gasping sobs. When her tears gave way to Alec's gentle presence and faded into stillness, he pulled back to look at her.

"I'm so sorry, Gill." He gently brushed away a tear with his thumb. "If you don't understand how wonderful you are, then it must because I haven't told you. I can talk about platforms and strategies until your ears fall off, but I'm not very good with the rest."

"Can you just tell me what you could possibly see in me?" Her words were strained and halting.

His eyebrows furrowed and he swallowed. "You know," he said, "I told you before that my clothes are all part of a game?" He waited for her to nod. "I guess the truth is that it's more than that. They say that the clothes make the man, and I find that when I put on a good suit I can do things I didn't think I could. Why don't we find you a dress and see how you feel after that?"

Before she could point out that he hadn't answered the question, he squeezed her one more time and kissed her on the forehead. As he turned the key in the ignition, he shot her a glance that she had never seen before: admiration.

When she stood in the changing room, Gillian reminded herself for the umpteenth time how much she hated shopping for clothes. Alec had convinced her that she just needed to know what to look for, and had enlisted the help of a very knowledgeable employee while he went to go look at ties. Her new companion was an overweight woman in her fifties who had looked Gillian up and down, told her very clearly what worked with her body type, and walked off. Gillian resisted crying this time. After looking for over an hour, she had very little to show for her efforts except for three selections and a headache. Since Alec had insisted that she call him when she was ready to try things on, she now found herself in a changing room, knowing that as soon as she stepped outside, she would be judged. She was looking very sternly at herself in the mirror when she heard a woman's voice.

"So, who are you here for?"

"My girlfriend," Alec answered. "We're going to a work party tonight."

"Oh, I see. She must be a lucky woman to have such a patient man like yourself. My husband is in the food court right now."

"No, she's the patient one. She's a genius psychologist who has this way of working with people that you wouldn't believe. She has this friend who's addicted to drugs, and no matter what he does, she doesn't give up on him. I'm the one who's lucky. Besides, she's absolutely gorgeous. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Alec had wanted to know if she loved him, while Gillian had wondered what he saw in her. With one more glance in the mirror she found that she had answers to both questions.

"Oh, wow."

"Do you like it?"

"I, uh, yeah. I think my lips are numb."

She was wearing a deep red floor-length ball gown that looked like something someone would wear to the Oscars. It was snug in a comfortable way, like a tight hug that made it impossible for her to slouch. She was surprised at how good it made her feel, both the soft fabric and the way Alec was looking at her. Maybe being at this party wouldn't be so bad.

And suddenly, Gillian-the-doctoral-candidate was standing at the check-out counter buying all three dresses she had picked out. Dress buying, she discovered, was somewhat a scientific process. Both her features and the features of clothes were just variables that, when combined with good judgement, created a very positive result. She could handle that.

The rest of her day with Alec felt like a crash course in princess college. After buying shoes, then getting her nails, hair, and makeup done, she felt like she had crammed for an exam. When they finally arrived, Alec parked the car and paused after turning off the ignition.

"Gillian, there's something I need to talk to you about before we go in there."

"What is it?"

For the first time since she'd met him, he looked nervous. She saw that his hands were shaky and his voice was wavering. She didn't know what was going on, but she was sure that she didn't like it.

"When—when I introduce you to people, they're going to ask us how we met," he said. Gillian let go of a breath now that she realized what he was afraid of. "They don't know about . . . my addiction. They can't know. I've got a job waiting for me after this, and if they find out, my career will be ruined."

"It's okay, Alec." She reached over and stroked his arm to show him that she wasn't going anywhere.

"No, Gill. It's not. This habit of mine has ruined my whole life. It's the reason I can never run for office. My success in the public sector is completely dependent on the fact that my secrets stay secret. So they can't find out that we met at an NA meeting. I'm so sorry, Gill. I hate that I have to ask you to lie for me."

"Alec, I said that it's okay." She grabbed one of his hands and put it in hers. "When my roommates asked, I told them that Dr. Kinnon introduced us, and it's almost the truth. I wouldn't have been at that meeting if he hadn't sent me to cover for him."

The tense feeling in the air dissipated when Alec took a breath and let himself relax. Gillian thought she could see him change back into the real Alec—the strong, confident man she had come all of this way for.

"Gill, that's perfect. Again, I'm really sorry that you have to do this."

"I don't mind. You have the right to keep your secrets, especially since you've been clean for so long."

He took in a breath and let it out as a sigh.

"Well, shall we go?"

Gillian envied the composure that Alec had as they walked into the ballroom. If today had been a crash course, she was taking her final exam. The nervousness faded a little when she saw how the men in the room were looking at her. If the looks she was getting were any indication, she had aced the test. She clung tightly to Alec's arm as he introduced her to senators and generals, who seemed more than interested in hearing all about her dissertation. When the polls started closing and the results started coming in, all the news was bad for Alec's candidate, and yet, Gillian was getting nothing but smiles.

It was such a strange sensation. On one hand, it was thrilling to meet so many important people and flattering to get so much attention. But Gillian was very much aware that under normal circumstances, these same people wouldn't give her any more than a passing glance, much let her less drone on and on about the firefighters she was counseling while they were at a party for a losing side. Was it all just because she was playing Alec's game? Was this what it felt like when she was winning? As good as all of this felt, it also made her feel a little guilty for fooling them all. Maybe soon it would be time for Cinderella to take off the glass slippers and run for it.

But not yet.

Somewhere between the dinner, dancing, meeting, and greeting, Alec grabbed her hand and whisked her to a balcony that overlooked the capitol building.

"I still can't believe that I'm here," she said, enjoying the warmth of Alec's arm when he put it around her shoulders. "I never thought I'd end up in D. C. on election night. In a ballgown, of all things."

He squeezed her tighter. "This town is better with you in it. You should come here more often."

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head, "I don't think this place agrees with me."

"What's wrong? I thought you were having a great time."

She managed to give him half of a smile and a sigh.

"I was, but for a girl like me, this is just weird. It's like I put on this dress and everybody treats me differently. It's a joke."

"No, it's not—you're still you. The only thing the dress does is make it easier for people to see who you really are."

"And who's that?"

"Why don't you take a look at those eyes those senators were making at you, and you tell me. You want to know what you are? You're who everybody wants to be, or be with. You didn't have to change to make that happen, you just had to present yourself in a way that commanded attention."

"So deep down, you think I'm like this? Flashy and superficial?"

"No, deep down, you're beautiful. Breathtaking, even. All you're doing is taking what's on the inside and showing it on the outside." He turned and nodded at the party going on behind them. "Those people you met? They're the superficial ones. They judge you based on your appearance, so what you have to do is present yourself in a way that shows them who you are. For the first time, Gillian, the whole world can see you."

Alec had barely finished his sentence when Gillian grabbed his tie and kissed him. It was the kind of thing she had never had the courage to do before, but it was fun. And liberating. When she let him up for air, he cleared his throat and licked his lips.

"That—that was not what I expected."

She smiled and let herself fall into his eyes.

"I love you," she said.

Her words had shocked him even more than the kiss had.

"I didn't expect that, either."

Her grin stretched out from ear to ear, and she found herself playing with the tie she still had in her hand. Then, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him again. When she pulled herself away from him, they locked eyes.

"You realize that this is only our second date, right?"

In the back of their minds, they both knew that Gillian was going to have to leave in the next few minutes to catch her flight back to Durham, and that Alec's candidate didn't have any chance at being the next U. S. president, but it seemed to Gillian that there was so much to celebrate. In the background, the party for the winning candidate was shooting off fireworks, and Gillian and Alec were kissing like the show was all for them.

When Alec pulled away from her lips and rested his chin on her head, he stroked her hair the same way he had earlier in the car.

"Gill, before I forget, there's another reason why I wanted you here tonight."

She was going to look up at him, but she couldn't bear to create any distance between them. "What is it?"

"Today's my fifth anniversary. I've been clean for five years today, Gill."

"Happy anniversary, my love," she said.

Step Six

Somehow, Gillian stepped out of the airport a completely different person than she was when she'd entered it less than eighteen hours ago. She felt like she had been someone else, once. She wasn't sure if it was her, or of it was the whole world that had changed. All she was sure of was that it was easier to stand up taller, to hold her head a little higher, and to see everything as just a little brighter. When she got into her apartment, her roommates noticed the change immediately, but she didn't mind.

Now, the only dark cloud in Gillian's sky was that Washington D. C. seemed so far away.

The phone calls resumed, the only real difference being that since he now had a permanent address, she could call him whenever she wanted. Not only was talking to Alec the best part of her day, but it gave her ideas as to how to make the rest of her life better.

It didn't happen all at once. One day, she had some cancelled appointments and found herself picking out an outfit at the outlet mall. Other times, she would stop in at the salon on her way home. The change was so gradual that anyone hardly noticed, but after a few months, stopped being the kind of girl who only wore jeans and sweatshirts. She started being stylish.

She was careful not to become the kind of person who obsessed over makeup and clothes. She didn't spend a lot of time in front of the mirror or besiege her roommates with questions about her appearance. She didn't even see clothes shopping as any more exciting than shopping for groceries. To Gillian, the way she dressed wasn't her identity, and it didn't change her self-worth—it was just a way of controlling how people saw you. Alec saw it as a game, but she began to see it as a kind of language, a way of expressing herself to the people around her. When she was happy, she wore red or white. On days she really, really missed Alec, she wore black or navy blue. She saved pink for days when she was heading into a battle that she knew she'd win. On Saturdays, she was back into her old jeans.

The effect this change had on Gillian was extraordinary. She found that it was easier for her to speak up when she needed to, as if she had finally captured something that had always eluded her—confidence. Not cockiness, she was certain to stay away from that, but an honest belief that she had what it took to do what she had to do. She also found that the more confident she was, the more her patients seemed to trust her. It appeared that everything was coming up roses, and it was all because of Alec, a man she found herself growing closer to more and more each day.

It was hard to pinpoint when exactly she finished transitioning from one version of herself into another. She picked up the pieces to her new self one at a time, and just assembled as she went. At some moment, whether it was when she finished her dissertation, or when she received her doctorate, or when she stood across Alec at the altar, she stopped being Gillian and became Dr. Gillian Foster. Gillian was a smart, nerdy girl who kept her head down and doubted herself, but Dr. Foster had the courage to go out of her shell and help people. Dr. Foster could land a job and move into the city where she fell in love. Dr. Foster could change lives and be with the man she wanted to be with forever.

It wasn't until one day, when she was doing the dishes and Alec came from behind to hold her, that she realized that they had only actually spent a total of five days of their entire dating life in the same city. There was the day they met, then election night, then the night he proposed. The two other days were the weekend he was able to come down and help with wedding plans. And yet, the thought didn't bother her. It was strange how well you could get to know someone just by hearing their voice.

She would feel it insensitive to talk about it in public, but she felt like the first year of their marriage was easy. It was like they just fit together, like every day he made her a better person.

It was that first year that Alec taught her the true secret to his success: balancing a budget. Since they both had only starting salaries to pay for their expenses, which included thousands of dollars worth of student loans, money would obviously be tight. Add to that the image they were both trying to pull off (or, as she would put it, the eloquence in which they were trying to speak the language of style), and you had a conundrum that they would have to work through together. So, the Fosters had the same studio apartment that Alec had showed her before their second date. The only real difference, besides the limited closet space, was that it was now decorated in a way that strategically made it look as presentable as possible, a feat achieved by the Saturdays they spent at flea markets and swap meets. Monday through Friday, the Fosters would go to their separate offices dressed like rich professionals, but on the weekends, they put on their worn jeans and spent every moment together. It seemed like the perfect way to spend the rest of her life.

"Mrs. Foster?" he said one morning as a shrill beep filled their entire apartment, "Mrs. Foster, it's time for you to get up."

She groaned and rubbed her eyes, squinting at the ceiling. "That's Doctor Foster to you, Sir."

"No," he answered, rolling onto his knees and crawling until his body was hovering over hers, "the rest of the world sees you as Doctor Foster. Somebody has to call you Missus Foster, and it might as well be me."

Then he leaned down to kiss the smile she was making at him.

"You know, Mister Foster," she said, in between kisses, "I worked very hard for the title, and Duke University might not appreciate your lack of deference."

"Deference?" He moved from her mouth to her neck. "I would think that the title they gave you is nothing compared to the one you got from me."

She laughed and pretended to push him away. "Oh, is that so? And how did you arrive at that conclusion?" Now, he'd made his way back to her mouth, something she didn't entirely object to.

"Well, Duke gives out doctorates to what, three hundred students per year? I only give the title of missus to one person in the whole of my existence. It's something of a once in a lifetime achievement."

She laughed as she pushed him away for real this time, giving him one long, savory kiss before heading into the shower. "I think I see your point," she called out behind her, "Missus Foster it is, but only because I seem to be especially fond of you."