Элисон Скотч - The Theory of Opposites

Chandler was not available for direct comment but also added to his Twitter feed: “Namaste,” which was retweeted over four thousand times by his fans and supporters.

Of course, while this is all very good news for the Chandler clan, mum is the word on the broiling tensions between the patriarch of the family, Richard Chandler, and his other daughter, William. Last month, Chandler served his youngest child with a cease and desist that disrupted court proceedings. According to Facebook, William is set to be a contestant on Dare You!, about which she is writing a book. One rumor we have confirmed to be true: Chandler’s leggy “nursemaid” has dumped him and has been spotted at Nick and Toni’s in East Hampton with none other than Donald Trump. (Donald, is there something you’d like to share with us?)

FAX FROM: LUSAKA ZAMBIA HILTON

FROM: AMANDA ABRAMS

TO: WILLA CHANDLER-GOLDEN

To Whom It May Concern at Dare You!

This fax serves as my permission for my son, Nicholas Abrams, to participate on the show Dare You!, with the understanding that he is a minor and may not be placed in any life-threatening circumstances. And if he is, I will pursue a 20-million-dollar lawsuit against the production company.

However, I have come to learn that life is short and meant to be lived, and when my son called me with an impassioned plea to have his chance to participate on his favorite show and to perhaps figure out a bit of who he is, I understood that it wasn’t my place to tell him no. We can only protect our children from so much.

(And to reiterate: if you put him in harm’s way, I will ruin you.)

Please find my attached notarized release form. It is not easy to find a notary public in the brush of Zambia, so I hope that you appreciate the lengths to which I have gone to ensure that a “minor,” who will certainly draw huge ratings (I worked in TV ad sales before I devoted my life to charity, so don’t think I’m naïve), can participate on your show.

All the best,

Amanda Abrams

“Shawn wants to get back together,” I say to Raina and Jeremy on Tuesday night, once the kids are down and Oliver is out for freedom drinks with his publicist and various celebrity hangers-on. I shovel my spoon into a pint of vanilla ice cream.

“Of course he does.” Raina slides a bowl across the counter and subtly urges me not to eat right from the container.

“So you’re not surprised?”

Jeremy chuckles and opens the fridge to grab a beer.

“Raina predicted this would happen exactly.”

“I’m good at reading the tea leaves. Lawyers learn to tell when people are saying one thing but meaning another.”

I drop a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth and let it dissolve.

“Also, I slept with Theo.”

“Holy shit,” Jeremy says.

“Wow,” Raina exclaims.

“I know,” I sigh. “It’s not great.”

“It’s great!” Raina says.

“Holy shit,” Jeremy repeats. Raina shoots him a look, and he raises his eyebrows and swigs his beer.

“He hates me now,” I say.

“He doesn’t hate you now.”

“I don’t know what to do. I’m so tired. I can’t turn my brain off. I don’t know how to decide.”

“Don’t decide,” Jeremy says. “Just see what happens.”

Raina slaps his shoulder, and he yaps.

“What? Guys do that all the time.”

“I’ve spent my whole life waiting to see what happens, what the universe has in store,” I say, and Raina nods because she knows. “I don’t want to wait but I don’t know how to choose either.”

She scoops out more ice cream and refills my bowl.

“Okay, so lose the husband,” Jeremy shrugs.

Raina spits her own ice cream back into her bowl.

“What? I never liked him that much. If now’s not the time to come clean, when is?” he says.

Raina laughs until tears form in her eyes. When she regains her breath, she says, “Oh my God, you are such an idiot.”

And I say: “Me?”

And Jeremy smiles, “No, me.”

“Don’t get me wrong.” Raina looks at me. “He’s my idiot.”

“And Shawn?” I ask.

“Oh, sweetie. All men are idiots.” She reaches up and cups Jeremy’s cheek. “You just have to decide what sort of idiocy you can live with.”

“That’s how we’re still married.” Jeremy kisses the top of her head.

Later, when he’s gone off to watch ESPN, Raina turns to me and rolls her eyes and whispers: “No joke.”

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I hover my mouse for only a sliver of a second, before I can give it too much weight, before I can think otherwise.

And then I click:

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Daring Yourself to a Better Life!

By Vanessa Pines and Willa Chandler

The Last Chapter: The Theory of Opposites

Seattle looks different this time around. Like I can literally see everything more clearly. The water is bluer, the skies are clearer, and though I think about Theo at every turn — his houseboat, the hidden passageway on campus, the fifty-yard line — I also try not to think of him too much. Or at least not in the way that I did when Vanessa dragged me out here just two short months ago. Back then, all I could do was wonder “what if?” Now, I realize, armed with everything I have learned and all that I have become, I only have to answer “what now.”

Dare You! puts us all up at the same quaint hotel near the Pike Place Market. Vanessa has texted the cute guy from Safeco Field and slipped out of the hotel with a quick wave and goodbye. So Nicky and I strolled the hilly cobblestone streets that night, the air pungent with fresh fish, the evening full of possibility.

“What do you think they’re gonna do to us?” he said, as we relaxed on a bench and watched the boats coast by.

“I don’t know,” I said, “but how bad can it be?”

“You obviously haven’t watched in a while,” he replied.

Our call time was a death-inducing 5 a.m. — I’m not even sure if Vanessa slept. Tandy, our segment producer who wears cargo pants, leather boots and a camouflage shirt, and who has biceps the size of my thighs, picked us up and whisked us into a van with blacked-out windows and said, “It’s not that we’re trying to scare you, but you can’t have any idea what’s next. The game starts now.”

And Nicky’s eyes got wide, and he said: “Fuck yeah!”

I still had reservations about Nicky coming. I tried to dissuade him all week, but Amanda had already given her consent, and I could see her point, too. Nicky had been through more than any kid should have been through: why not let him savor something for a moment, why not let him try? Vanessa had assured me that our task wouldn’t be life-threatening, and there was also the hard-to-dismiss notion that for the first time since puberty had taken its grip, Nicky seemed honest-to-God happy. Not happy because he was, like, finding his Judaism or irritating his elders. Just…happy. Like twelve-year-olds should be. Most twelve-year-olds want a Wii or an Xbox. Nicky and his fate or destiny or just really shitty timing were too complicated for that.

Tandy put us in the black-ops van, and within thirty minutes, I vomited all over the front seat, which the cameraman did a really tight close-up of. I’m sure you’ve all seen it by now. Sorry about that.

After a few hours, the van parked, and we found ourselves at the foot of a mountain, the very same mountain — Mount Rainier — where Vanessa shocked my system with this whole thing to begin with, when she started everything. Two cameramen jumped out alongside us, and Tandy handed me a map, iodine pills, a first aid kit, a headlamp and GORP.