Chapter 7 #2
“Anyway, so Ruby told this story about when her wife was in the hospital overnight for surgery,” Josie continues.
“And Ruby walked into the recovery room, and the heart monitor ticked higher, you know, with a faster pulse. And I swear it was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard.
And it started me thinking that I wasn’t sure if either Zoey or I were in a hospital room, the machine would kick up higher.
I thought it would all just stay flat. No high or low heartbeat, just stagnant. Does that make sense?”
I’m going to be sick. Yes, I know the episode Josie’s referring to, or at least one of the several episodes I used this story on.
After Amelia passed, I had a fantasy in my head and played out the scenario of how I wished it would’ve gone with Amelia.
So many nights, I replayed this image—Amelia knocked out after her surgery, me tiptoeing into the room with the doctor, and the monitor beeps increasing.
I pictured the doctor making a joke about knowing it’s true love that while unconscious, your loved one’s heart flutters with your presence.
But it was a lie. By the time I got to Amelia’s room, there was no heartbeat at all.
“Anyway, I just wasn’t sure if I’d ever walk into a room and Zoey’s heart would kick up for me, or vice versa,” Josie says, reaching back for her glass of wine.
She studies my face for a long time, which I can only assume has taken on some ashen look of horror.
A self-deflecting giggle flies from Josie’s mouth.
“Ah! You think I’ve lost it, don’t you? It’s okay, you can totally say it.
I mean, who listens to a podcast like that and starts applying these stories to their own life?
Not only that, who listens to a podcast and starts changing their life?
I fully recognize how completely bananas this sounds. ”
Oh God, seriously what do I say to this?
Tell her that I have some inside knowledge that this story was made up?
Tell her that the entire podcast is fictional, that there is no Ruby, there is no Amelia, that none of this is real?
That Ruby is a personification of my dead wife, a way for me to live in a fantasy world, to escape before reality crashes into me.
“I… can absolutely see how a story like that would resonate with you. Who knows if that was even a true story or not? Maybe it was an analogy or something?”
Josie twists her mouth. “Maybe, but I think the foundation of the podcast is that she uses real-life stories. I’d be surprised if someone would just make something like that up.” As hot red flames burst in my chest, Josie takes another small sip of wine. “But there’s more.”
Oh God…
“So I move to Minneapolis, determined to find myself, what makes me happy, discover who I am outside of being with Zoey. I mean, we’d been together since we were like twenty years old.
Essentially my entire adult life. But in Minneapolis, I’m still not finding what I need.
So, what do I do? This is so embarrassing, but I freaking write Ruby Reanne, the podcast host, like some sort of lunatic. Can you believe it?”
It’s so hot in here that I’m going to pass out.
I remove the blanket off my lap and tug up the sleeves of my Henley.
“No way,” I say, swallowing back the feeling of sickliness weaving in my throat.
“Did she read your stuff on the air?” Please for everything holy let it be one of the thousands of emails I have to let go.
“Oh yeah, she sure did,” Josie says with a sheepish grin.
“In my letter to Ruby, I said how I thought I made this huge mistake and left the person I thought I was supposed to be with. And Ruby was all like ‘you need to fight for her, tell her what you think, it’s true love, do something bold,’ blah, blah, blah, bullshit.
And so I did. That’s actually what I was doing the night we met on the sidewalk last year.
Me following the advice from the podcast to be ‘bold’ and ‘brave.’ I took Zoey to dinner and told her I wanted her back, and obviously, she said no. I was so fucking humiliated.”
The deep-seated need to defend my fictional character grinds into me.
“I mean, Ruby didn’t have all the information, so she probably did the best she could.
” I instinctively reach down and comfort stroke Kona’s fur.
“Doesn’t she say at the beginning of every show that she’s not a doctor or therapist? ”
“Yeah, but she also talks a lot about her perfect marriage and how to achieve it,” Josie says as she weaves her fingertips into the edge of the blanket. “I swear it’s like watching those cooking influencers online, and then finding out they are a complete fraud and just had it all catered in.”
Ouch.
Josie unravels her fingers from the blanket and moves the glass back to her lips. “Whatever. That Ruby woman sucks anyway. I stopped listening after that. Honestly, I hope the show goes off the air.”
She laughs.
I don’t.
“Oh God! That’s probably really weird. I promise I’m not a stalker or anything, and this entire situation is just so ridiculous.
It’s just a show, and I was just a fan.” Her smile fades for a moment and she looks into the flickering flames at the fireplace.
“But it really hit me, you know. It’s like yet another person in my life that has somehow let me down and led me astray. ”
The urge to flee from this room is heavy. I know I won’t say anything to Josie. I won’t point out that she is probably projecting some of her anger onto someone else, and it’s not fair. But at the same time, I get it.
I don’t feel the need to out my identity. My show is my safe space. I’m anonymous for a reason, and I don’t owe an explanation to anyone for the reasons why. But still, it settles in my stomach, low and uncomfortable, that I might have contributed to someone’s pain.
A long moment passes between us, when Josie crosses her arms and looks at me with a lifted brow. “So tell me, Colby, did you break up with your last person because of a podcast?”
Another round of red fills my body. I hadn’t planned on talking about Amelia. I don’t talk about Amelia, at least the real Amelia and what happened. But Josie is the first friend I’ve made in years, she’s so easy to talk to, and she was just so vulnerable that it feels wrong not to share.
“No,” I say and swallow the pressure in my throat. “My wife died.”