Very Sincerely Yours

by Kerry Winfrey

Teddy didn’t believe in guilty pleasures as a concept. She figured if you liked something, whether it was the Taco Bell Crunchwrap Supreme or the music of boy bands from the late nineties (okay, so those were both examples from Teddy’s life), why feel guilty about it? The world was a tough, cruel place. Why not find joy wherever you could, grab that joy by the metaphorical joy reins, and hold on tight?

Try everything you can. Even—or maybe especially—the things that scare you. Keep your mind and your heart open and be on the lookout, and I know you’ll find your thing.”

“You know how many times I’ve started my life completely over? This is the fun part, sweetie. This is the part where you get to decide what’s next, so it’s up to you: what are you going to do now?”

Her mom gave her a tiny smile, then looked back at the road as the light turned green and Nelly instructed everyone to take off all their clothes. “Your dad’s an asshole,” she said, hitting the gas.

“Oh, also.” Teddy bent down to grab another bag, which had fallen onto the floor. “Before McDonald’s, I went to Bath and Body Works.” “Was there a candle sale?” Eleanor asked with an edge of frantic excitement to her voice. “I sure hope so,” Kirsten said, “because if you pay full price for a three-wick candle, you’re a damn fool.” “Oh, there was a sale,” Teddy said. “I was at Richard’s and I got depressed about the lack of seasonal décor, and then I was like, well, maybe we need a pecan-pumpkin waffle candle—” Eleanor nodded. “Yes, we do. Keep going.” “And then I remembered that we’re almost out of soap and there was a sale on that, so long story short, I hope you like autumnal scents and foaming antibacterial hand soap.” “I adore both of those things,” Kirsten said.

They all called him the Viking, because that was a nickname Kirsten had given him when they’d started dating (in the way that all women must give nicknames to potential suitors, as foretold by the prophecy in Sex and the City).

Sometimes it helps to think back to what made us happy when we were young, before we met people who told us our dreams were silly or unrealistic. What lit up your heart when you were a kid? Maybe that’s your thing.

She asked Kirsten about her latest artwork, a giant painting of lilies that Kirsten said was “turning out a bit more vaginal than I expected, but sometimes art surprises you.”

“I’m serious, you guys. When I sing, dogs howl. Glass shatters. Randy Jackson shows up and says, ‘That’s gonna be a no from me, dawg.’”

Reading the hesitation on Teddy’s face, Kirsten asked, “What would Eleanor Roosevelt say if she walked in to this room right now?” “Well,” Teddy said, “she’s dead, so probably not much.”

He knew she could do difficult things, or even sometimes fail to do difficult things, but that she’d get it right next time.

“Gretel! Where did you come from? Where did you go?” Everett was so relieved to hear her that he didn’t even stop to acknowledge that he’d quoted the song “Cotton Eye Joe.”