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Jenna's
Diary appears every Friday.
June 3rd
I haven't
heard from Simon for two days. Oh, God, why does love have to hurt so
much? I see other couples in love and they don't hurt. Jenny and Irene,
they're in love with their husbands--at least I think they are although
I can't see why--but they're not going through anguish and heartbreak.
I guess that's
where being artistic makes a difference. I see things better, I hear things
clearer and I feel things more deeply. I have a sensitivity that runs
deep within me.
My stupid
mother keeps telling me about her stupid wedding plans. As if I care.
She asked me if I was bringing "the clown" (I wish I hadn't told her about
Simon's art--his gift is wasted on the bourgeoisie) and I burst into tears.
June 4th
I called
Simon to ask him if knows of any good Thai takeaways in my area. I don't
like Thai food but he does, so it was a good excuse to call.
I just don't
get it. He was fine on the phone. We were laughing and joking, he asked
if I've done any more writing, I asked about his rehearsals. It was like
there was nothing wrong. I hinted that I was free tonight, tomorrow and
the day after, but he didn't pick up on it.
I ordered
a pizza, drank a 2 litre bottle of coke and ate half a cheesecake.
June 5th
I feel sick.
Being heartbroken is starting to effect my stomach.
I couldn't
even look at food today at work. My mother offered to pick me up a bagel
at lunchtime but I just waved her away very wanly. A normal unselfish
mother would be frightened that I would waste away to nothing but not
mine, she just said it wouldn't hurt for me to skip a few meals.
I stapled
together the pages of her Wedding Planner when she was gone.
June 7th
I've been
Simon-less for a week now. I can't stand it! I've got to do something.
Its going
to kill me, but I'm going to attend the writing group tomorrow. I vowed
I'd never go back after that humiliating experience and I'm not looking
forward to seeing Irene, but I've got to take action or I could be missing
out on the greatest love of all time.
June 8th
I couldn't
believe it when I saw Sheila up close, she is absolutely no competition
for me in the looks department at all. Sure she looks better in clothes
than I do, but men really want an attractive face. Especially an artist
like Simon.
It was really
awkward just showing up. I think a lot of them are still under the impression
that I can't take criticism. You would think Irene would have set them
straight, you'd think if she was any way half-decent she would have explained
that I didn't storm out after they gave me their thoughts on my story,
I went to the washroom and got locked out. But no, she didn't bother In
fact I don't even thing she believed me.
A few of
the people in the group were giving me the stink eye, but I didn't care
because I hate them anyway. Irene greeted me very coldly and then started
talking to Marjorie as if they were sorority sisters. Simon arrived ten
minutes after the group started and he
greeted me very warmly, but we couldn't talk as Karen was reading her
piece about some old boring widow that I couldn't care less about.
Sheila arrived
half hour late. She breezed in with a coffee stinking of gum. She's about
my height and about ten pounds thinner. She has highlighted blonde hair,
wears lots of makeup and seems to favour pink. I was so relieved when
I saw her! She looked like a suburban hooker and there is no way Simon
could be interested in that.
I looked
so hip compared to her!
The group
droned on and on as I examined Sheila from head to toe. French manicure,
cashmere sweater, tight jeans, high heels, little tiny earrings one ear
longer than the other...
It was finally
my turn and I realized that I forgot to bring any work. Another round
of stink eyes until I mentioned writer's block and that seemed to cheer
them up a bit.
I was waiting
on the edge of my seat to hear what Sheila had written and I was thrilled
when she finished. IT WAS AWFUL. It was all about transformation Blah,
blah, blah. She's got a baby voice and licks her lips a lot. She has a
weird thing where she makes words like bathroom sound like "bothroom".
Maybe she thinks it makes her sound posh but it doesn't. I felt my heart
lift until the end when Simon said that it was a work of genius.
I thought
he was kidding and I laughed but he wasn't so I coughed. Irene thank God
said something like "it's interesting concept, I wasn't really sure what
you were going for, the idea was unclear" I could have kissed her but
I didn't cause she's still mad at me but it was great. The rest of the
group chimed in after Irene and I was almost squirming with delight.
After the
group Simon headed for the door and I grabbed my things as fast as possible
I feel bad about pushing that old woman out of the way but If I hadn't
I might not have caught up with him. Just as I was about to hug him Sheila
tottered up. Simon forgot all about me to console her. He asked her if
she wanted to go have a coffee and talk about it and I said yes.
They talked
on an on about the narrow vision of the group as I watched. She has the
annoying habit of sticking stuff in her mouth . Her finger, a pen, a stir
stick--it as if she's afraid her brains will leak out if she doesn't keep
it plugged.
I looked
to see Simon's reaction and he was lapping it up. How could this be?
The crowning
glory for me was when Simon picked a fleck of lint off Sheila's shoulder.
The way he did it was so, so intimate. I panicked and poured coffee on
my shirt. He just tossed me his napkin and went on listening to Sheila
burble as if she were giving the sermon on the mount.
I slapped
a dollar on the table and said "Well, I'm going" and Simon just looked
at me briefly and said "See you".
Oh, God I
am heartbroken.
I don't understand!
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You are probably thinking"Say, I'll never catch up, so there's no point starting now."
Well that's not true, Jenna can't follow a thought for more than a second so you won't be missing a thing. (And quite frankly that attitude is the reason you are not a neurosurgeon.)
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