Chapter 5 #2
I died! I don’t know who this Mikey is, but I’m determined to find out
break’s up, gotta run. I’ll text you later.
And I sigh. Okay, day three of feeling human again after so many years, and I want to hold on to this a little more. I take one last peek at Kona near my feet and click back on the microphone.
After leaving Florida, after Amelia, everything that I once knew changed.
The MBA I’d received was meaningless. The company where I’d worked since my college internship and risen to senior management before turning thirty meant nothing to me.
How could I sit there and review and analyze ROIs and quarterly forecasts and budgets when my world just collapsed?
The numbers, which I’d once loved, blended together.
They no longer made sense in the way that they once had.
Who gave a shit about audit standards when my wife just fucking died?
When Amelia and I got our life insurance policy right after we were married, we joked about who was going to off the other one to cash in. The amount was high, so high, but we were in our twenties, the premium was cheap, and we took it knowing we’d never use it because people our age don’t die.
So, after Amelia passed, I cashed out and left the finance world with its numbers and annual budget planning, and didn’t work for a year until I stumbled into something that gave me a little bit of life.
And today, I’m so close to recording my one thousandth episode, which is mind-blowing.
Something that started as an outlet, a way to get me talking, a way to channel Amelia, has amassed a following I never dreamed possible—close to two hundred thousand monthly listeners.
And not a single person in the world knows it’s me.
There’s so much freedom in having a dual personality like this.
A stage name, a pen name, a cloak of anonymity.
I can say whatever I want without the repercussions of anyone knowing it’s me.
I close my eyes and think of Amelia’s grinning face.
Once I picture her fully and conjure her personality, I take a full breath, exhale through my nose, and hit record.
“Hey, everyone! Welcome to the Love ’Em or Leave ’Em podcast, where we do a deep dive into all things love, including if it’s time to stay together, or break it off.
I am your host, Ruby Reanne—the woman who’s not a therapist, not a doctor, not educated whatsoever in the study of human relationships, and one hundred percent not even remotely qualified to be giving you any sort of advice.
My only credentials are being in a fabulous marriage of fifteen years and counting, and miraculously holding on to a beautiful, incredible wife who puts up with exactly zero of my shit.
With that all being said, I am so excited about today’s show!
So, saddle up there, cowboys and cowgirls, and yep, I just dropped that phrase and have no idea where that came from.
And as we all know, I purposedly do limited editing on this show, but I’m at a solid regret-level eight for using that term and knowing I won’t cut it in post-production.
We don’t have to be perfect, friends, we just have to be good enough. ”
I tap into the laptop and pull up the questions.
Hundreds of communications come into me a week—from voicemails to DMs and emails, and on the website, I have a listener submission section.
Depending on how much I ramble, any one show might only get through a handful of questions, so I really need to pick and choose.
I, of course, pre-read the questions, but to maintain authenticity, while swallowing back the irony that I’m deceiving the audience about my identity, I try not to think of the answer ahead of time and instead do my WWAS—What Would Amelia Say.
Sure, my listeners have grown to know and love me.
And I’ve never pretended to be a doctor, or therapist, or anything.
The only thing I’ve pretended is that I’m currently married.
And yet, I know it’s a lie. Deep down, I realize there is a level of deception taking place.
But I think with the entertainment value, along with the hopefully helpful advice I give, it outweighs the bad.
At least, that’s what I tell myself on the hard days when my conscience eats at me.
“Okay, everyone, this email comes from Brooke. The email says, ‘Hey, Ruby, I have a problem. My husband is so upset and angry over a situation, and I think he’s completely blowing it out of proportion. We’ve been watching a Netflix show together for the last six seasons, and it just came out with the final season last week when I was on a work trip.
We watch together, every night. And while I was stuck in the hotel room, I watched it at night to pass the time.
I wasn’t going to say anything and still watch with him.
But when I got home from the convention, we go to watch it, and he noticed on my profile that it was already watched.
He confronted me, and I told him the truth.
He was so mad that he slept on the couch that night.
Honestly, I really don’t see what the big deal is.
Please tell me he’s being totally unreasonable. Sincerely, Brooke.’”
I hit pause on the recording, take a sip of coffee, and peek at Kona, who looks so uncomfortable as she sleeps in the cone.
Amelia and I did this, too. Our shared streaming shows.
After she was done teaching her second graders for the day, and I was done drafting whatever report was needed at work, we’d do our nightly routine—dinner, walks, maybe softball or grocery shopping, then we’d snuggle in and watch an episode or two of our show.
And I would have never done what this woman who emailed me did, but the listeners love anecdotal experiences—real or fiction—so I give it to them.
“Thank you, Brooke, for your email. I mean, the choice is obvious here. This is divorce-court material. Any judge in their right mind would not even go fifty-fifty but just award one hundred percent to you for him being unreasonable,” I say with a chuckle.
“But before you seek out the Harvey Specter divorce lawyer in your town—anyone catch that reference out there?—I want to offer up a tiny bit of perspective. I did this once, years ago because I learned my lesson, to Amelia. It was the final season of Suits—again, the Harvey Specter reference, people—and Amelia had left to visit her parents. Honestly, I knew it was kind of wrong, but it was Suits! The original Meghan Markle show before she became the princess or duchess or whatever, you know? It was like a year before the streaming service had the last season, and we’d waited so long and I just had to find out what happened with Harvey and Donna.
So, I snuck in an episode. And a few things happened.
One, I felt really shitty. I like watching shows with my wife, and I missed having that moment where we paused the show and looked at each other with wide eyes, or added our commentary, or threw a pillow at the TV when Louis did something wrong.
And two, when Amelia found out, she was really, really hurt.
I took something that she, we, value, and ruined it for us.
Looking back on it now, I see that it was really selfish. I denied us the ability to bond…”
As I continue on, I think of Amelia, of course, but also Josie.
Which is an utter surprise. Does she stream shows?
Is she a horror kind of gal, or humor only?
Does she like Disney, or Netflix, or does she do basic cable-style watching?
I try to blink away the thoughts of Josie, as to not mess with the Amelia-energy I need in order to record, but she is simmering below the surface.
For the next two hours, I spend the rest of the episode answering a few questions, taking a break to grab more water, reviewing the sound quality halfway in between, and look again at my sweet girl on the studio floor.
She’s sleeping so peacefully that I don’t want to wake her up, but I’m feeling the need for some doggie snuggles.
I slide off the office chair and nuzzle up next to her, spreading my palm on her soft belly as it rises and falls.
I peek at her stitches, my poor girl, and lean in closer.
Wait. Shit. I press my hand against her leg. Oh. Oh no.
No… no… no… My heart thuds against my chest. Oh God, this is not good. I dash up from Kona, grab my phone, frantically scroll through my contact list, and hit dial.