the afternoon tea—it comes with finger sandwiches and a scone on those fun little tiered trays.”
“Yes.” Teddy nodded. “I need that tiered tray.”
She thought about what Richard used to tell her, especially on nights when the girls invited her to hang out with them and Richard wanted her to go to yet another night out with his friends. “They aren’t good friends,” he’d say, leaning toward her as if he were letting her in on a secret. “Come on . . . Kirsten is an ‘artist’? And Eleanor teaches kids, but she dresses like one, too. Is that really who you want to hang out with?”
Teddy had bristled. She loved the way Eleanor dressed, all bright colors and printed tights. She wished she had the courage to dress like that, instead of in the basic dark skinny jeans and sweaters she usually wore. And she loved Kirsten’s art.
But she hadn’t said that to Richard. Kirsten and Eleanor would be fine without her, and so she put off every invitation with a texted excuse and a few sad-faced emojis. And eventually, her social circle narrowed to include Richard, Richard’s friends, who mostly shared inside jokes about school and work, and that was it.
But now that the tiered tray of teatime delights was coming her way, Teddy realized it seemed unlikely that two people who weren’t good friends would (a) let her live with them, (b) invite her to hang out with them constantly, and (c) devote their limited free time to helping her sort out her directionless life.
Teddy was starting to realize that, in this and many other areas, Richard might have been wrong.
As soon as they ordered, Eleanor pulled out her planner.
“I can’t believe you went to Jazzercise,” Kirsten said. “Look at you, taking the bull by the horns.”
Teddy shrugged. “What can I say? The spirit moved me. And then the up-tempo beat of the Jazzercise soundtrack moved me. Josie is in good shape for someone in her seventies, by the way. I couldn’t keep up with her—she was grapevining and lunging all over the place.”
Eleanor clicked her pen. “Okay, so obviously you’ve been doing great with finding things that scare you, and Teddy Time allows for spontaneity. But a list helps.”
“‘A List Helps: The Eleanor Cho Story,’” Kirsten said.
Eleanor waved her pen. “Stop it, you. I make lesson plans for five-year-olds. Don’t mock my organizational skills.”
Teddy smiled.
Eleanor turned her chair to face Teddy. “Writing things down makes them real, and it makes your plans more likely to actually happen.”
“Like a bucket list!” Kirsten said. “Except that you’re not dying. Well, presumably not soon, anyway.”
Eleanor opened up her notebook and the three of them started to list things Teddy could do. Some of them were things that she didn’t want to do, but knew she needed to, like go to a restaurant by herself, without the security blanket of Richard or a friend. Have a real conversation with her sister for maybe the first time since before her bike accident.
Kirsten started saying things, and Eleanor started writing them down before Teddy could process them. Teddy heard her mention karaoke and wrinkled her nose but didn’t have time to object before they’d moved on to Teddy taking a sewing class with Eleanor.
“Go on a date,” Eleanor said as she wrote. Then she specified, “A non-Richard date.”
“What if I don’t want to go on a date?” Teddy asked, and then silently asked, What if I’d rather sit in my room and read emails from a man I don’t know?
“But does it scare you?” Eleanor pointed her pen at Teddy.
“Yes,” Teddy admitted.
“Onto the list it goes!” Eleanor said. “Remember, this is simply a list of options. Who knows how long you’ll want to keep doing this before you decide you don’t need it? Eventually, you won’t be afraid of things anymore.”
“I don’t know,” Teddy said, taking a sip. “I can’t imagine I’ll ever be fearless.”
For a moment, she saw herself on her tiny bike, felt that wind in her hair. Hell on wheels. “Can we add ‘ride a bike’?” Teddy asked.
Eleanor stopped writing. “It’s your list! We can add anything you want. But are you really scared of bicycles?”
“A relatively nonthreatening mode of transportation,” Kirsten said.
Teddy nodded. “I had . . . an accident once. When I was a kid. I broke my arm and I never got on one again.”
“All right!” Eleanor said. “Riding a bike it is!”
They added more things to the list until it took up two pages. Two entire