“Yeah, but this isn’t planned. Pajama-movie nights are a production. We have themes and snacks and decorations,” Eleanor clarified.
“You guys don’t need to do anything special on my account,” Teddy said, shaking her head.
“But we’re so glad you’re here,” Kirsten said, “because we hated Richard.”
“Kirsten,” Eleanor said, her voice a low warning.
“It’s true. He treated you like garbage.” She pronounced the word gar-BAJ, like it was French or something.
“He didn’t treat me like garbage,” Teddy muttered, mimicking Kirsten’s pronunciation. “Not all the time, anyway. Not at the beginning.”
“Well, we’re way past the beginning now, and that dude sucked. What was it he used to say, when he asked you to read aloud his textbooks to him like you were a human audiobook?”
Teddy swallowed hard. Kirsten had been so horrified by this detail that Teddy had stopped telling the girls anything about her relationship (which, of course, had only made her even more isolated). “Behind every good doctor, there’s a good woman.”
“Riiiiiight,” Kirsten said slowly.
“That wasn’t very kind,” Eleanor pointed out, sounding like she was talking to one of her kindergartners. Teddy almost expected her to say, That’s not how we treat our girlfriends, is it?
“And what did he say when you wanted to hang out with us?” Kirsten asked.
“He liked it when I was at home! And I liked being there! I liked being around when he needed me.” Teddy crossed her arms.
Kirsten nodded, lips pursed. “And did he ever take your needs into account? Did he ever prioritize your interests? Did he ever give one single solitary shit about what you wanted, or was it the ‘Richard Show,’ twenty-four seven?”
Teddy sighed. She couldn’t possibly explain to them that she’d been happy to do whatever Richard wanted because it took the pressure off her. Richard wasn’t cruel, but she couldn’t deny that he’d been happy with her only when she was serving him.
Well, until he wasn’t, anyway.
“And listen,” Kirsten continued. “I understand that his job is important. I respect the field of dermatology—I myself had a precancerous mole frozen off last week. But my dermatologist is a kind and professional person who doesn’t act like she’s Sandra Oh performing surgery in the first season of Grey’s Anatomy.”
“Love Sandra Oh,” Eleanor murmured.
“The first season is great,” Teddy agreed.
“Sandra Oh’s greatness is not under scrutiny here. We’re talking about Richard,” Kirsten said, crossing her arms and staring at Teddy.
Teddy looked toward Eleanor for help, but Eleanor winced.
“He was kind of . . . well, a dick,” Eleanor whispered, and Kirsten whooped.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Teddy protested.
“We’re not saying this to make you feel bad, Teddy. We’re saying, Good for you. You’re free of that loser. No longer must you cook the same five bland meals. No longer are you shackled to his demands. Now you get to do what you want. And look at you! You have a breakup bob!”
Teddy smiled bashfully. “I do.”
“And it looks amazing,” Eleanor said, placing a hand on Teddy’s arm.
“Forget Richard,” Kirsten said. “Seriously. That guy doesn’t exist. From now on all you care about is Teddy. It’s time to focus on you. You’ve spent years taking care of him, but now it’s Teddy time. Oh, I like that. Teddy Time.”
“That sounds like a picture book,” Eleanor said, nodding in approval.
“Or like a lingerie moment,” Kirsten mused.
“What the heck is Teddy Time?” Teddy asked, confused. She sat down on the pink couch, trying not to think about what ancient bodily fluids might be embedded in the velvet.
Kirsten and Eleanor sat down on either side of her. “Teddy Time is a chance for you to focus on yourself,” Kirsten said. “Figure out what you enjoy when you’re not busy making food for a grumpy dermatologist.”
Teddy couldn’t help but laugh, even if the entire concept of Teddy Time didn’t really make all that much sense. Then she wrapped her arms around Kirsten and Eleanor, all three of them squished into an awkward hug on the curb sofa. “I love you guys. Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank us,” Eleanor said into her armpit. “But never get back together with Richard.”
They all laughed, but Teddy felt a tiny pinprick of nausea start in her belly. Richard wouldn’t ever want her back, because a man like him should be with a woman who had more direction.
She shouldn’t want him back. She knew that. But what she wanted was that sense of certainty, knowing the answer to any question in any situation. But now that she couldn’t hide behind someone else’s desires anymore, it was up to her to figure out her own life. To figure out what she wanted.
Maybe Kirsten was right. Maybe Teddy Time was the answer.
The oven timer went off, making everyone jump.
“Is someone cooking something? Is that what that smell is?” Eleanor asked, sniffing the air. “I assumed it was our neighbor. Or, like, a fragrant ghost.”
“I made dinner for you!” Teddy called, running into the kitchen. “It’s a pot roast. It’s been in there for a while.”
She pulled it out of the oven and returned to the living room, where Eleanor and Kirsten were staring at her, eyebrows raised.
“Do you . . . not like pot roast?” Teddy asked nervously. “I can make something else. And I made French bread, too, so if you don’t like the roast, at least you can have that.”
“Why did you make us dinner, Teddy?” Kirsten asked suspiciously.
Teddy started to sweat. “Because you guys are being so nice, and I wanted to say thank you, and I figured you’d be hungry, so—”
“And why have you been washing the dishes all week, even though the chore wheel clearly states it’s my turn?” Eleanor asked.
Teddy threw her hands in the air. “I wanted to show how much I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”
“You did every chore on the chore wheel,” Kirsten said. “That’s not the way chore wheels work, you know.”
“Do you think we don’t notice the way you’ve been vacuuming, and bringing in extra throw pillows that you’ve stolen from your ex, and mopping the kitchen floor?” Eleanor asked gently.