Hopeless Vows (2 page)

I look my article over one last time before sending it off to my boss. Once I proved I could write, Karen would throw me an assignment here and there. Articles on who wore it better, worst dressed, things of that sort. Finally, I got a steady spot in the magazine covering the latest accessories each month. I’ve been moving up ever since. My goal is to cover the coveted Fashion Week one day. I know I’m not writing about world peace or anything life altering, but it’s a passion of mine and it makes me happy. And, given the way my life started and the path it was headed toward, happiness is all I’m really looking for.

Seven o’clock rolls around before I walk through my apartment door. I kick off my heels and flop down in exhaustion on the couch. After two revisions on my article and several hours researching the newest trends on the runway, I’m ready to relax with a glass of wine and some television.

Looking around my small apartment, I can’t help noticing how empty it feels. Most times I stay so busy I don’t have time to dwell on it. But moments like this make it hard to ignore. You’d think I’d be used to it. My parents were never home when I was a kid. When I was forced to live with my grandmother, I was so angry and upset with the world that most of my days were spent locked away in my room. I craved solitude then. Now, it only serves as a constant reminder of how lonely I really am.

I’d give anything to have a person in my life to share my day with. Despite my best efforts, I haven’t found a man who I could see myself settling down with. At twenty-eight years old, I started losing hope I would find that one person made for me. If he even existed at all. Hence why I’m going through this insane, unconventional process. I just hope this isn’t a huge mistake.

MONDAY CAME WAY
too fast. I guess I should be glad it’s not dragging on, but there’s something unnerving about psychologists picking apart your brain and analyzing you. Especially when there’s things hidden away you don’t want anyone to know.

I manage to get off work at a decent hour and am now walking through the lobby of one of their offices. Tonight I’m meeting with Dr. Terry. He’s a sociologist and seems to be more interested in my family life and developmental years than the other experts. For this reason, I always dread seeing him. I want this process to be a success, so I know I must be honest with them. However, there are certain things I’m not willing to divulge.

“Jillian, how are you?” he greets when I walk into his office. He’s a tall, broad man with dark features. To anyone else, he might seem intimidating, but his constant smile softens the hard edges to his appearance, making him approachable and friendly.

“I’m doing well, Dr. Terry. How are you?” I ask as I have a seat in the leather chair in front of him. The producer mic’d me as soon as I got here. Now that I’m in the room, I see the two cameramen in opposite corners waiting to capture the interview. Apparently, parts of these sessions will be used in the first few episodes of the show. Knowing my every move is being watched only heightens my anxiety.

“No complaints here,” he says with a wide grin. “So, it seems we’re getting closer to the end.”

“Or the beginning,” I counter.

He nods with another smile. “If we were able to match you, is that how you’d see it? As a fresh start?”

I ponder his question for a moment before replying. “I’m not sure I’d say it’s a fresh start, but once the matches are determined, that’s when everything really begins, right?”

“I suppose you’re correct.” He glances down at the papers he has strewn across his desk. “I wanted to talk more about family life. What it means to you, what aspects are important, what kind of family you would like in your future, things like that. Okay?”

Lots of practice through the years has made it easy for me to cool my features whenever someone brings up this topic. Plus, I knew this was coming. So even though it’s a hard subject for me, I hide my discomfort and answer the doctor. “Sure.”

“What does the word ‘family’ mean to you?”

Taking a deep breath, I answer. “Family means having a support system. Having people who love you unconditionally.” And I think it is. I’ve just never had it.

“Are you close with your family? Is their approval important to you?”

My legs uncross and recross. “No; unfortunately, both of my parents died when I was younger.” There’s no sadness in my tone and I’m sure there should be. I wonder if the good doctor picks up on this.

“How old were you?”

“Eight.”

He begins jotting down some notes on his notepad. “What were they like? Were you guys close before they passed away?”

“I don’t remember them.”

Lies.

How could I forget?

Dr. Terry studies me for just a second, before scribbling some more. “Do you mind if I ask how they died?”

“In an accident.” It’s the same line I’ve told everyone my whole adult life.

He sets his pen down. “Sometimes with tragedy and great loss, the mind will block out certain events. It’s like a defense mechanism, if you will. You’ll hurt less if you don’t remember. I’d like to revisit this later on, if that’s alright.”

I give a noncommittal grunt. Real eloquent, I know, but this isn’t something that’s open for conversation.

“Do you see yourself having a family someday? Do you want children?” he asks. A sense of relief washes over me that he’s letting this go for now.

I nod. “Yeah, I do.” Despite my upbringing, I want children I can love and hold, spoil and teach things to. I want to give someone the affection and attention I never had. I don’t tell the doctor all of this though. That’ll just lead to more questions I won’t answer.

We talk for about thirty more minutes before we’re done with this session. This is the last time I’ll meet with Dr. Terry unless I’m selected. Outside his office, the producer stops me.

“Okay, so this is how it’ll work. The doctors are going to start making matches in the next week or so. If you are paired up, you will be called and notified, at which time things will move very quickly. Remember, you are not to discuss what is happening with anyone per the contract you signed. Should you leak information about the show, you will be found in breach of contract and monetary compensation will be sought after. Any questions?”

Shaking my head, I say, “Nope.”

“Good, have a nice evening.”

“You too.”

First thing I do when I get home is call Janey. I know I’m not supposed to talk about it, but she’s not going to tell anyone.

“What took you so long to call me? I’m dying over here! How did it go?”

“Cool your tits. It was the same as always. I won’t know anything for about a week.”

“Did they ask you any more sex questions?” Her voice drops in a conspiratorial manner. She’s referring to the time I met with Dr. Cullen who is a sexologist. To say that was slightly uncomfortable would be an understatement. It’s really bizarre to talk to a virtual stranger about the things you do behind closed doors. When I asked what the purpose of this was, she told me it’s another aspect to help them find the right match for me. So I got through it, red face and all.

“No, sorry to disappoint,” I deadpan.

“Damn, I was hoping for something exciting.”

“Nothing exciting about my family.” I pop open a bottle of wine and pour myself half a glass before sitting down on the couch.

“Oh, love, I’m so sorry. I know that’s hard for you.” She’s dropped all joking and sounds genuinely concerned. She’s the only person who knows about my past.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince myself, but I take a long pull from my wine glass to help soothe the resentment and pain.

“How many couples are they selecting?” I’m thankful she’s bailing me out by changing the subject.

“Four, I think.”

“And remind me how this works again.”

A sigh rushes past my lips. “We’ve been over this how many times now?”

“I lost count, but I just want to see if it still sounds just as insane as it did the last time you told me.”

I roll my eyes at her and explain the whole thing over again. She’s a pain in my ass, but I love her anyway.

“Yep, still sounds crazy.”

I don’t respond. I’m sure she’s not the only one who thinks this is stupid, but I’m not looking for her approval. I have a good feeling this is the right path for me.

We agree to meet up for lunch sometime this week and I head off to bed. Thinking back on these last four weeks of interviews, a calmness settles over me. It’s weird I don’t feel anxious, especially since the big decision is right around the corner. But at this point, it’s out of my hands and I have to have faith this will play out like it’s supposed to.