Good For You

Chapter Thirty-Three #2

The editor is nodding, excitedly. ‘We’ve been discussing it here – the team and I – and we actually think a more personal, memoir-style book might be more interesting and more exciting for readers.

’ She beams. ‘We think you’re fantastic, Liv, and we want more of you in this book.

Orange Flags sounded fun and instructional, but we want more of the Liv flavour injected.

After everything you’ve been through personally in the last few months, we love the idea of a therapist, writing about her journey, realising she still needs to work on herself.

’ She pauses. ‘You’ve been in therapy recently yourself, haven’t you?

That’s what Morning Tea said in their press release?

’ I nod, struck silent as she continues, ‘Honestly, it’s a better hook than yet another self-help book about toxic relationships anyway!

’ She laughs. ‘It’s more universal and more authentic.

I mean, god, who among us hasn’t felt like we know everything, only to realise we still have so much to learn?

’ She points to herself. ‘My friends all say I’m the best at giving advice, but when it comes to my own life, I’m a hopeless case who knows nothing and makes some of the worst choices known to man.

’ She beams across the desk at me. ‘Yours is a real and relatable story, Liv, and we’d love you to write about it.

’ She stops, suddenly looking a bit nervous again. ‘What do you think?’

What do I think? I’m struggling to take it in. I came here to get dumped – again. I hadn’t even considered any of this as a possibility.

Fabian leans in. ‘I love it!’ he declares, waving his hand flamboyantly. ‘It’s genius. I would read the shit out of that book.’ He elbows me. ‘Liv, honey bear, you love it, too, right, babe?’

I’m babe again. I frown. ‘Actually, yeah, I do love it,’ I say at last, meaning it.

‘I think it could be really interesting.’ I look her in the eyes.

‘I’m about to start doing some work with a domestic abuse charity.

I’d like to write about that too, once I’ve found my feet a little more.

It would obviously involve very careful handling, and the charity’s sign-off on everything, with client confidentiality, but would that be something I could include in this memoir? ’

She considers this. ‘Yes,’ she replies slowly, the smile getting wider. ‘I love that. I think that’s a great angle and feels like it would give more weight to the subject matter, too. Go for it!’

My grin matches hers as Fabian claps joyfully. He reaches around my shoulder to give me a quick, happy squeeze.

‘I’m so glad you’re up for this,’ the editor beams. ‘It’s always a bit awkward having these conversations, hoping a writer isn’t going to be offended at the change in direction!

’ She laughs a relieved laugh, and I wonder at the egos she has to deal with.

She continues, ‘And for the record, I think Morning Tea were absolute idiots to get rid of you!’ She laughs again casually.

‘You were so wonderful with the viewers, your advice was always spot on and everyone loved you. The guy they’ve replaced you with is so awkward and cold.

I can’t believe they’ve given him the role full-time now!

’ She pauses. ‘And what’s up with his orange eyebrows? That make-up team clearly hates him.’

I wince painfully at the mention of Edward.

I also feel something else – some other emotion – and give myself one of those full body scans.

I feel… defensive. Poor Edward and his resting bitch face and energy.

He may be awkward but he’s not cold. Not really.

Not underneath those three-piece suits and the serious expressions. He’s not cold at all.

I give myself a shake. Let’s not get sucked back into warm Edward thoughts.

Best wishes for the future. Remember?

The editor is still gushing. ‘Honestly, I can’t believe they’re not begging you to come back, especially now you’ve had this – what would you call it?

– internet redemption?’ She giggles again and I regard her quizzically.

Those words are familiar. I search my memory banks, and it clicks at last. There it is.

Justin. That phone call we had. As we hung up, he’d said something like that.

I didn’t understand it then and I don’t understand it now.

‘I’m sorry,’ I interrupt as she tries to move the conversation onto deadlines and marketing spend. ‘What do you mean internet redemption? What are you talking about?’

She stares at me, blinking hard. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it? You’ve gone viral!’

I laugh sharply. ‘Er, is that a joke? I know I have! Like, three times. It pretty much decimated my life, I lost everything. It was horrendous.’ I laugh harshly and she shakes her head.

‘No, no, I mean in a good way!’ She looks awkward.

‘I know you didn’t have a very nice time when it came to the comments on those first two TikTok videos, it must’ve been horrible.

’ She clucks sympathetically. ‘But the last video that was posted? The one where you sat on the floor outside the cloakroom, ranting about men and the way women sacrifice themselves for them? Everyone loves it!’ She pauses.

‘I should say, women love it. Obviously it’s deeply unpopular with a certain contingent.

All the incels are… well, not very keen.

But women love you! Women like me.’ She looks bashful.

‘They’re calling you the “Frankenstein Feminist”.

’ I shake my head, trying to process this newly minted mantle, as Jenny continues.

‘They’re treating the whole thing like a battle cry.

You’re the new America Ferrera speech in Barbie.

You’re Saoirse Ronan on Graham Norton’s sofa, reminding everyone how women have to think constantly about their personal safety.

You’re Julia Gillard on the front benches, decrying misogyny against women leaders.

You’re a feminist hero. They all love you.

They did a whole segment on you for Woman’s Hour! ’

I shake my head at her – what’s she talking about?

‘I can’t believe you haven’t seen any of this! It’s all over Instagram and TikTok. It’s everywhere!’ She blinks, looking incredulous.

‘I’ve been avoiding the internet recently,’ I murmur, trying to take in her words.

I shake my head again. ‘But that is all ridiculous. I’m not some feminist hero, I was mid-breakdown, sitting on the floor of a TGI Friday’s.

Women can’t seriously think I have any idea what I’m talking about – I haven’t a clue what I’m doing! ’

‘Have a look!’ She throws her phone at me, the app already open. I pick it up greedily. It feels like years since I’ve let myself look at Instagram or TikTok and I’ve missed it so much. My hands itch with the anticipation.

Then I stop myself.

‘Actually, sorry, I don’t want to,’ I say, handing the phone back.

‘Thanks for telling me, but that all sounds quite… I don’t know, separate from me.

I suppose I’m glad if it’s helping women and giving a voice to something important, but I really can’t get sucked back into obsessing over internet comments from strangers.

’ I grimace. ‘And by the way, I’m very aware I sound like one of those self-righteous social media puritans right now and I want to make it very clear I generally have no willpower in any other area of my life, but right now’—I nod—‘I really want to focus on doing things that make me feel better, not worse.’ I glance over at Fabian.

He looks almost as shellshocked as I must by the news of my latest viral outbreak.

I thought he was all over the internet, but maybe he’s been having his own life epiphany.

I turn back to Jenny, continuing, ‘And this book sounds really great. It’s exactly what I want to write.

Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity. ’

‘I’m so glad you hadn’t done too much on Orange Flags!’ she says with relief, and I nod, realising how much more excited I am to write this book instead. Like, I want to run home right now and get started.

Fabian takes over. ‘Actually, I know for a fact that Liv had done a lot of work on Orange Flags – despite what she just said – and since this is a whole new subject matter,’ he begins in full-on agent mode, ‘I think we should discuss an amendment to the payment we’d previously agreed.

’ He glances at me, his eyes twinkling. ‘An improvement.’

Jenny half smiles like she knew this was coming. ‘I think we might be able to come up with something,’ she says, and I find myself breathing out, smiling widely.

More money? Thank god for that.

As we leave the building, Fabian grabs me for a proper hug. ‘I knew it would all work out!’ he shrieks happily. ‘Listen, babe, schnookums, pumpkin pie, I’m sorry for being such a bitch to you lately. I know you’ve been going through it.’

I hug him again. ‘You haven’t really been a bitch. Sorry I haven’t exactly been the ideal client.’

‘Nonsense, you’re a dream.’ He waves his hands as we head off to the station. ‘You should see how badly some of my other clients behave. Someone should film them and stick it on stupid TikTok.’

‘Speaking of…’ I side-eye him, laughing. ‘I thought you were all over that app. How did you miss my latest rise to notoriety?’

He looks sheepish. ‘I may have been slightly off my game lately. I was in a fuckboy situation, and it was taking up all my mental energy.’

‘I hear that,’ I sigh, thinking of all the messy relationships I’ve been in over the years. Maybe Justin wasn’t quite in the fuckboy category in the end, but he was still soooo wrong for me.

I’m happy to be single, I realise suddenly. How new for me. How exciting!

Beside me, I clock Fabian’s expression.

‘What?’ I ask with trepidation. ‘Who was it? What did you do?’

‘It was Spencer,’ he admits, looking mortified.

I stop dead in my tracks. ‘SPENCER?!’ I shout. ‘The fuckboy who’s had you off your game was the awful human toad, my former producer at Morning Tea?!’

He nods solemnly. ‘Sorry.’ He pauses. ‘But I swear I’m done with him. For good this time. He’s hateful.’

I stare at him with horror for a moment, then burst out laughing. ‘Oh Fabian. You need to work on your self-esteem issues. You deserve so much better.’ I raise my eyebrows at him. ‘You better make an appointment.’

He laughs, long and loud, then grabs my arm, looping his through mine. ‘Well, my darling pookie, sod Spencer the toad man and sod Morning Tea. Who needs them anyway? They’ll regret losing you. And he will definitely regret losing me.’

‘Honestly, I think even if they did come crawling back now, I’m genuinely not interested,’ I tell him, and I suddenly, really, really mean it.

My words are not coming from a place of bitterness, or anger, or rejection.

I just don’t want to do that job anymore.

I had fun there for a while, but I’m excited to start this new challenge. To do something real.

Fabian sniffs. ‘Well, I hear on the grapevine that it’s not going well with the new guy they’ve got full-time on the sofa anyway, so I’m expecting a begging call from that snivelling little louse, Spencer.

It would delight me no end if I could tell him you’re not interested and to go fuck himself.

’ He sneaks a look at me. ‘But perhaps we’ll see how much money they’re offering first.’

I laugh, then feel a stab of pain for Edward. ‘Are you just saying all that to be nice, or is it really not going well for Edward?’

‘Edward?’ he sounds distracted. ‘Who’s Edward again?’

‘Try and stay on topic, Fabian,’ I tease. ‘Edward the therapist. The guy you made me have six sessions with. And Morning Tea’s new relationship counsellor on the couch.’

He looks at me with surprise. ‘You mean your therapist? Sexy Edward in the suits?’ He shakes his head.

‘Didn’t he tell you, babe?’ He sniffs. ‘He did it for a few weeks and they offered him the job, but he turned them down flat. Not interested. And believe me, I know how much they were offering him. It must’ve hurt.

No, they had to get some awful therapist called Paul for the full-time gig in the end.

Really cold and unfeeling – and not even sexy to make up for it. Everyone hates him.’

I stop dead in the street. Fabian stops too, looking at me questioningly.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask. ‘Why would Edward turn down the job?’

He shrugs. ‘Well, I don’t think he ever wanted it in the first place, to be honest. I’m reliably informed – because I’m informed about everything, darling, especially when shagging the head producer – that Edward was put in quite a tricky position.

He was initially offered the interim role, covering for you while you were off.

We were trying to persuade him to take on those six weeks of therapy sessions with you and Spencer kept pushing him to also take the temp job on the show.

’ Fabian wiggles an eyebrow. ‘I think that little toad knew how popular Edward’s…

look would be with viewers.’ He smiles like he’s picturing him.

‘Anyway, apparently Edward kept saying no, but then Spencer, the awful little shit, told him the only other couch therapist he could get on short notice would be replacing you for good. So, Edward was forced to choose between taking over for a couple of months, or your job being given to someone else altogether.’

I start walking again and Fabian falls into step with me.

My head spins.

Edward didn’t want the job. He only took it to keep it safe for me. He turned down the full-time role.

For me?

Why didn’t he tell me!

What if…

No, that’s ridiculous.

I can’t think about this. My life is finally coming together again.

I’m back on track. I’ve got my new role with the charity.

I’ve got this book – this memoir! – I’m excited for.

Plus the promise of some financial security.

Why would I complicate things by questioning this decision I’ve already made?

Because what if it was a decision made on a faulty premise?

Fabian and I reach the station and say our goodbyes, heading in different directions.

Me for home, him back to work. I climb on board my train carriage, my head spinning, still trying to process what Fabian said. This feels like such a mess.

I have to stop this. I have a plan, a new future of my choosing.

One that is healthy and uncomplicated. Edward and I would always have been dysfunctional.

He was my therapist, for goodness sake! We’d never really be able to get past that.

It’s unethical, it’s broken, it’s wrong headed.

And I don’t want to make those kinds of choices for myself anymore.

There. Decision made and it’s the same one as before. Better choices. It’s the right thing to do.

No more Edward.

And that’s that.