The Shadiest Words are Yes and No
Age of Empathy Prompt: Are you a “Yes” or “No” person
Jessica’s mother issued warnings fraught with contradictions and hazy meanings.
“Don’t end up a mindless twit like your father. He’s a yes-man! Now look at him!”
Jessica flinched. Her dad did alright as a chiropractor. After the divorce, he’d married someone half his age.
They seemed happy.
Happier than Jessica’s mother.
“Don’t be a tease that tells a guy yes when she means no. If you want to ride the bull, grab it by the horns.”
Alarmed, Jessica responded, “Uh, yeah, I haven’t had a kiss since Spin-the-Bottle in the fifth grade, Mom. I’m hardly prepared for a sexual rodeo.
During the summer between high school and college, Jessica’s best friend, Kayleigh, suggested a long-weekend get-away.
“A writer’s workshop and retreat in Northern Michigan?” Jessica’s squeal came out more of a squawk. “This is like a dream!”
“I know, right?” Kayleigh beamed.
Jessica’s eyes hungrily consumed the short list of notable people serving as writing coaches. “Zachary Phillips is going to be there?” She fanned herself with the brochure.
“The one and only!” Kayleigh bounced on her tiptoes. “He wrote the vampire thingy, right?”
“He’s only the biggest literary agent ever.” Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a second. Why do you want to do this?”
“One of my mom’s clients runs it and owes her a favor.”
“But you’re not a writer,” Jessica reminded her.
Kayleigh rolled her eyes. “Duh! But it’s on a lake, Jess. It’s co-ed. If guys can get creative with words, they must get creative with …”
Jessica put her hand up. “Okay, I get the picture. While I’m learning something, you’ll be off skinny dipping and –”
Kayleigh jumped in, “Hopefully, I’ll learn something, too.”
The girls threw their heads back and laughed.
Jessica didn’t know why they were best friends.
Jessica said, “Yes!” to following rules while Kayleigh screamed, “No way, suckers!”
Kayleigh hollered, “Hell, yeah!” to underaged drinking, rowdy behavior, and general debauchery as Jessica whispered, “No, thank you.”
They checked in early to their lakeside cabin.
From the porch swing, they pointed to the loons and watched fish jump.
And then, they lied to each other.
“Will everyone think my manuscript is lame?”
“No! They’re going to love it. I couldn’t put it down!”
“You never read it.”
“Yes, I did. Most of it, anyway.”
They smiled sweetly at one another.
“Does my white bikini make me look like a hoe?”
“No! White means innocence.”
“Think anyone else will be wearing a thong?”
“Yes. You’ll blend right in with this predominantly middle-aged crowd.”
Within hours, each ran in separate directions. Jessica signed up for fiction workshops and Kayleigh met an up-and-coming rocker who’d just signed on as the opening act of a legendary band. Their world tour began in eight weeks.
He planned to work on some lyrics and work on his tan. And much to her delight, he began working on Kayleigh.
One girl’s pen produced poignant prose of passion and peril. The other girl’s body induced intoxicating interactions and heady hallucinations. The girls’ weekend was a blur of wickedly witty lines, whispers, and words used as weapons or warm welcomes. The two weaved webs tangled with weighty promises and otherworldly wonders.
When they reconnected Sunday afternoon, both were breathless.
Kayleigh spoke first. “He’s renting a lake house until Labor Day — and wants me to stay! It sounds crazy, but I think I’m in love!”
Jessica paled. “Wow.”
“I asked if I could go on tour with him,” Kayleigh said, higher than normal. “He said maybe!” Kayleigh cupped her face.
Jessica forced a smile. Why was Kayleigh so excited about a maybe? “Awesome! I want to hear more! Right now, I’ve got to meet Zachary Phillips. He’s read my first three chapters. Today, he gives me feedback!”
“Oooh!” Kayleigh cried.
They clutched hands and jumped in circles.
As Jessica approached Zachary at the picnic table, her heart pumped full throttle. She heard his voice, but the words sounded swimmy.
He pointed out highlighted passages and flipped pages.
Jessica’s head seemed floaty, as if tethered by a thin string about to snap. “Please,” she said, rubbing her temples, “Can you get it published?”
He paused to consider. “Maybe.”
She wanted to smother him with kisses.
Now she understood why Kayleigh had been so excited by the vague answer of her rocker boyfriend.
Yeses and nos pretend to be concrete answers — but are more often lies.
Maybes are special. They don’t tell us anything — but they give us hope.
