Really Good, Actually: A Novel

“After six years of date nights and pet ownership and learning how to make a carbonara, there was simply nothing else to do. Jon said, ‘What do you think, Maggie?’ and I said, ‘Yeah, okay’; and so we got married, because everyone else was, and because nothing being particularly wrong felt, at the time, like everything was right.”

Maggie and Jon's decision to marry appears more as a default option rather than a deliberate choice driven by passion or genuine commitment, reflecting the societal pressure and expectations surrounding marriage rather than a deep emotional connection. This quote underscores several facets of Maggie's character, illustrating her tendency to struggle with decisions and her lack of passion for most things. As the passage indicates, she often yields to outside influence, even when making one of life’s most momentous decisions. Furthermore, the scene sheds light on the detrimental effects of succumbing to Societal Pressures and Prioritizing Keeping Up Appearances instead of pursuing genuine desires and fulfillment.

“Even if we handle it as well as possible, I thought, it’s still going to be terrible. Even though we were going to be well-behaved exes, the type who didn’t gossip about each other, or have sex with that one coworker the other’s always been jealous of, or post vindictive thirst traps on social media, or tweet excessively about our exciting new lives as single people, it was still going to feel awful for years, possibly forever. It certainly felt that way now.”

In this passage, Maggie's acknowledges that despite her and Jon's efforts to manage their divorce with maturity, the emotional fallout they endure reflects the complexity of their situation. This quote foreshadows Maggie's subsequent actions as she struggles to uphold her intentions of being a "good ex" and finds herself succumbing to the very behaviors she vowed to avoid.

“And so I did not date, and remained chubby and happy, until roughly twelfth grade, when not having been laid was enough heartbreak to make me lose, rapidly and with no real effort except abstention from solid food and recording of my caloric intake, fifty-five pounds. Everyone was very happy for me until I fainted in math class […] The truth is, if you start your eating disorder even slightly overweight, no one will notice until things are very much at the ‘what if two meals a day were soup’ stage.”

Maggie employs humor as a coping mechanism to deflect attention from her deep-seated trauma. Here, she jests about having an eating disorder, masking the profound discomfort she feels about her body and her struggle to maintain a healthy relationship with food. Furthermore, the pervasive societal emphasis on thinness exacerbates Maggie's situation, as it leads others to overlook Maggie's eating disorder and even to express pride in her weight loss until it finally culminates in a severe health scare. Heisey uses this scene to critique the societal norms prioritizing thinness over health and well-being.

“Night Burger was exactly this item, plain, with a pickle and french fries. It was bland and stodgy and always arrived cold, but I did not want the food to be an experience. I wanted it to look and taste how I felt, which was like nothing. I wanted a tepid meat puck, and I got one, often.”

Throughout the narrative, food serves as a mirror of Maggie's emotional state. During times of healing, she finds solace in having communal meals with friends, but in moments of struggle, she tends to avoid food altogether. In the aftermath of Jon's departure, Maggie's relationship with food reflects her subdued mood. While she continues to eat for distraction, it brings her little joy, serving merely as a routine rather than a source of pleasure or sustenance.

“Part of me felt it was rude, avoidant maybe, to be ditching out on so much, but wasn’t this the kind of thing women were supposed to be doing, saying no? The Old Me might have worried this would make people hate me. In the past I was worried about basically everything, basically all the time. Now my constant, low-level anxiety was replaced by a feeling of dull invincibility I referred to as ‘haha, so what’ […] The thing is that life is actually a joke, and nothing is guaranteed to us, and anything you think is guaranteed will probably be taken from you unexpectedly, and also it seems like deep down you may be an unlovable shrew, which is probably a bigger problem than some late assignment—let’s give that a big haha, so what!”

The seemingly casual expression, “haha, so what” belies a profound shift in Maggie's demeanor. It marks a departure from her previous anxious and people-pleasing self, which is now replaced by a defiant and apathetic attitude toward societal expectations. However, this newfound indifference masks more profound emotional struggles, including depression and a persistent fear of inadequacy. Rather than indicating self-acceptance, the phrase serves as a defense mechanism that shields Maggie from vulnerability and emotional pain.

“‘It’s good! It’s like, I don’t need to dig my own grave to know that ultimately, nothing is that important and we all die alone. I don’t know why you guys are being so serious about this. I mean it in like, a fun way’ […] I felt pleasantly disconnected from everything around me, as though observing life underwater, which allowed me to take my time before responding to stressors and to fret less about the things that were ultimately insignificant. I was sure this was the way forward and happy to have finally gotten here, even if I had to undergo a traumatic event to do so. Everyone listened carefully, nodding like a group of NPR hosts. Lauren […] said politely, curiously, ‘Isn’t that, like, exactly how people describe depression?’”

Maggie's seemingly casual assertion that "nothing is that important," belies a problematic undercurrent in her mindset. While she portrays this nihilistic outlook as a positive form of detachment, Lauren's insight accurately identifies it as being reminiscent of depression. Maggie's description of a "pleasant disconnection" subtly implies emotional numbness rather than genuine tranquility. Her forced optimism and nonchalant attitude toward profound topics like death and loneliness hint at a coping mechanism rather than true self-acceptance, prompting concern for her well-being beneath the veneer of apparent cheerfulness.

“The more maternal women and optimistically horny men would reach out for a shoulder rub, patting me like a child who’d done a bad job at kickball, instead of a woman whose plan for her life had fallen apart one day over mediocre pad thai. […] This was where I felt older divorcées had a competitive edge. It was hard to seem worldly and accepting when so little had happened to make me that way. I wanted to project the image of a together, independent woman, puffing a cigarette like, Ah, life! and then doing something cool like blowing a smoke ring or ashing without making a mess everywhere. Saying ‘I am getting a divorce’ made me feel like a child clomping around in enormous shoes, my mother’s lipstick all over my face […] Every encounter revealed my naïveté, put me in a pillory with a sign next to it: believed fully in romantic love and the possibility of eternal commitment (in this day and age!!).”

Maggie wrestles with the discomforting pity she receives in response to her divorce. Unwanted physical gestures and condescending pats highlight her vulnerability, undercutting the image of strength and independence that she wants to project. She admires older divorcées who exude a worldly demeanor born from genuine life experience, a quality that Maggie lacks. The metaphor of a child stumbling in oversized shoes encapsulates her awkward navigation of this new phase, which is further exacerbated by societal expectations that seem out of touch. Each interaction lays bare her perceived naïveté, intensifying her sense of judgment and inadequacy and fueling an internal struggle to maintain a façade of resilience and indifference.

“I told them I wished I were a widow. ‘I feel like when you get a divorce, everyone’s wondering how you ruined it all, what made you so unbearable to be with. If your husband dies, at least people feel bad for you.’”

Maggie feels anxiety about societal judgment and the stigma surrounding divorce. She longs for the sympathy and exoneration typically afforded to widows, contrasting it with the perceived scrutiny and assumption of blame directed at divorcees. This dynamic underscores the societal pressures and stigma that Maggie endeavors to overcome, intensifying her feelings of isolation and inadequacy. The situation also hints at a yearning for external validation and compassion, reflecting her internal turmoil and self-doubt.

“I told Amy everything I posted online felt like a PR exercise, like I was trying to broadcast to friends, colleagues, acquaintances, and a few friends’ dogs that I was doing well, possibly even thriving.”

Battling societal scrutiny, Maggie fixates on projecting an image of success. She withdraws from authentic connections, favoring online interactions because they provide a platform to easily maintain a veneer of normalcy. However, Maggie feels the burden of these interactions, likening them to a “PR exercise,” and this observation indicates her longing for genuine connections despite her fear of vulnerability.

“And, worst of all, the knowledge that none of these were real problems, that spending every moment dwelling on them probably made me a very bad or at least preposterously boring person who would never accomplish anything or help anyone, who would die of climate-related flooding or cancer or famine, alone and hated.”

This passage vividly portrays the relentless cycle of Maggie's negative emotions, for she not only grapples with guilt and shame over her divorce, but she also feels ashamed for experiencing these emotions at all. This pattern illustrates Maggie's inability to effectively cope with her feelings, a situation that causes her eventual spiral of despair. The quote also underscores the theme of Societal Pressures and Keeping Up Appearances, as Maggie’s compulsion to align her thoughts with social expectations further exacerbates her internal conflict.

“‘One day,’ she said, ‘and it will surprise you how soon this day will come, but one day you will wake up and feel good. It won’t last long, but then you’ll have another day where you barely remember this abjection, and another, and another, until that’s just your life. But for now, it will be hard. This is the part that’s hard.’”

In Maggie's darkest moments, Merris extends a comforting hand, offering solace amid Maggie's emotional turmoil. As Maggie grapples with overwhelming negativity, Merris gently reminds her of the fleeting nature of pain, assuring her that moments of happiness will eventually resurface, albeit faintly at first. However, Merris also acknowledges the harsh reality of Maggie's current struggle, emphasizing the importance of resilience in enduring present hardships. In doing so, Merris validates Maggie's pain while instilling hope for the future.

“‘No adult starts a hobby from a good place.’ She was right. It didn’t matter if it was a buzzy new fitness trend or an aspirationally useful class or something fun and specific, like life drawing or an Italian conversation group—everyone involved in adult learning was running from something.”

Maggie immerses herself in various activities to distract herself from thoughts of Jon, aligning with the notion that adult pursuits often stem from a desire to escape or avoid something. However, these activities also serve as a means for Maggie to explore her interests and preferences, contributing to her journey of self-discovery amid the turmoil of her divorce. Despite the judgment from her friends and societal pressures to grieve in a certain way, Maggie's engagement in these hobbies inadvertently connects her with others facing similar struggles, highlighting the complexities of navigating personal growth amidst societal expectations.

“I wanted him to understand that it was very stressful to experience this kind of thoughtful attention, knowing as I did how it could gnarl and twist into something unrecognizable, or disappear altogether. I wanted to tell him I had once woken up in his bed and thought in the dark that he was someone else, someone who had noticed all kinds of lovely things about me, and who more recently had said that being with me felt like drowning in another person’s need. On further reflection, I did not really want to tell him about that.”

In addition to grappling with her divorce, Maggie struggles to navigate solitude as she works on her Journey to Self-Discovery. Rather than embracing her solitude, Maggie throws herself into creating new connections, and this compulsion implies that in reality, she is deeply uncomfortable in her own company. She is also ill-prepared for the vulnerability of new relationships. The quote highlights a setback in Maggie's personal growth as she struggles to trust Simon, viewing his compliments with suspicion due to her past experiences with Jon. This inability to articulate her wariness further exacerbates the disconnect between them, underscoring Maggie's ongoing internal conflict and the lingering impact of her past relationship on her present interactions.

“I understood better now. I was still buying eggplant on autopilot and had only recently realized I did not favor the left side of the bed. Without Jon’s playful sparring, my daily life had become less argumentative, and I discovered I preferred it that way. It was hard to learn traits I’d considered mine alone had been forged with or borrowed wholesale from someone else. How embarrassing, to have to figure out what was Me, what was Him, what was Us. How much more embarrassing, to find out you’d got it wrong.”

Maggie's journey toward self-discovery unfolds almost inadvertently, yet her newfound experiences provide valuable insights into the limitations of her relationship with Jon, which by its very nature compelled her to suppress her own awareness of her likes and dislikes. Through this exploration, she discerns the profound influence that relationships can wield over individual identity formation. Stunned by the realization that aspects of her personality are intertwined with Jon's, Maggie engages in a complex inward journey to untangle her true self from the attributes that the relationship imposed upon her. This struggle underscores the complexity of defining one's individuality within the context of past connections that are no longer relevant.

“‘Isn’t it supposed to take half the time you were with someone to get over them? I’ve got another three and a half years of basement wallowing, if that’s the case.’ ‘That’s ridiculous. Where did you read that?’ Merris said. ‘Inessa’s husband died last July, and she’s been the scarlet lady of her birding group. Though I suppose she doesn’t necessarily have the…what would it be…fourteen required mourning years left.’”

Heisey humorously critiques the absurd societal norms dictating the grieving process. Maggie finds herself adhering to prescribed timelines for moving on from a relationship, only to be challenged by Merris, who exposes the irrationality of such constraints. Maggie's capitulation to societal pressures contrasts sharply with Merris's wisdom, emphasizing the individualized nature of grief and the futility of imposing rigid guidelines.

“Please. I don’t mean your moon rocks or whatever you’ve done that got oil all over everything down here. That’s fine; so is the messaging. But at a certain point it becomes running, when most of moving on is just getting out of bed and plodding forward. Call it what you must, but you need to practice walking around and living life and being heartbroken at the same time. Not in an exciting way, where you’re in the thrall of some new person, or buying something outrageous, or terrorizing Jiro, but in the way you still have to go to work when you have a toothache.”

Merris emerges as a grounding force amid Maggie's turbulent emotional landscape. Maggie's tendency to magnify the significance of her divorce exacerbates her distress, leading her to seek distractions rather than confronting her feelings directly. Merris adeptly highlights the discrepancy between Maggie's perception of the situation and its actual magnitude, urging her to move on with a sense of practicality and to avoid indulging in exaggerated drama.

“That I couldn’t do journaling properly; that we hadn’t given back the money friends and family had given us at the wedding; that everyone knew I was struggling—worse, that they knew I’d been rejected; that I had been rejected by the person who knew me better than anyone else on earth, to whom I had shown every part of me, been as vulnerable as it was possible for me to be…and that person had decided I sucked; that despite the fact that I technically had enough perspective to understand that none of my problems were ‘real’ compared with any actual problems that could and did exist in other people’s lives, my pathetic non-problems still occupied my entire headspace and felt enormous, bordering on insurmountable; that I would do anything to simply have been better at being married—to have properly applied myself toward being a sweeter, sexier, more fun, less challenging, properly good wife; that this was quite a retrograde way to think, and probably Said Something About Me as a person; that I was having increasingly persistent fantasies in which singing the correct song at karaoke would somehow fix it all; that, that, that, that…”

Maggie's rambling, tortuous internal monologue vividly captures the chaotic and emotionally charged nature of processing heartbreak and self-doubt. Her reluctance to seek therapy stems from a fear of social judgment and a sense of shame surrounding her divorce and her feelings toward it. Because Jon knows Maggie intimately and still rejects her, Maggie finds it difficult to overcome the raw, agonizing pain of that rejection, taking it as a deeper, more existential comment on her worth as a person. Despite acknowledging the comparative triviality of her struggles, Maggie finds them overwhelmingly distressing. Her longing for redemption through karaoke reflects a deep-seated desire for validation and a semblance of control over her fractured past, underscoring her profound sense of shame and self-doubt.

“[A]nd I saw that the moment had arrived. I was being forced to take him on a tour of my insanities, to show him their contours and detail their depths. We were going to have a fight and he was going to hate it. I explained to him that I was busting my ass every day to stay just a little bit beautiful, like maybe seven out of ten, because everyone was looking at me and feeling sorry for me, and I could not deal with their pity about my body or my face as well…and it’s more expensive and dangerous to be a woman on your own, and the only thing you’re unequivocally rewarded for is finding someone—a man, preferably—who wants to be with you. And if you can’t, you have to walk around knowing that people are judging you—often out loud, to your face—and blaming you, and finding you wanting, and you have to smile and say something bullshit like ‘I’m never lonely because I love my own company!’ or ‘this tastes JUST like peanut butter, only it’s half the calories!’”

Maggie's confession lays bare a complex array of emotions, from fear and anger to the burden of societal expectations. Anticipating a confrontation with Simon, she grapples with anxieties about societal judgment, feeling pressured to conform to beauty standards to avoid pity for her appearance in addition to judgment for her divorce. This difficult mindset underscores the oppressive nature of female beauty standards and the additional pressure they impose on women. Her bitterness towards societal norms surrounding partnership highlights the relentless scrutiny she faces as a young divorcee, compounded by the sense that she is not even allowed to voice her frustrations without facing further judgment. Instead, Maggie feels compelled to wear a façade of forced cheerfulness, offering insincere platitudes to mask her inner turmoil. Through this candid rant, Maggie reveals the emotional toll of navigating these societal expectations and the underlying anger beneath the surface.

“‘I’m grieving,’ I said. ‘I’m having a hard year.’ ‘Yeah, well, so is Amy,’ she said. ‘And she’s not treating me like shit, or going ballistic on the internet, or talking about her breakup like it’s some large-scale societal problem. You and Jon didn’t break up because the concept of marriage is broken. You broke up because you couldn’t make it work, a normal thing that happens to millions of people. It doesn’t have to be some big conspiracy. It doesn’t have to be special. It can just be bad.’”

Amirah hits Maggie with a blunt reality check. While Maggie rationalizes her poor behavior as a product of grief and difficult circumstances, Amirah challenges her self-pity and inflated sense of importance. By juxtaposing Maggie's actions with Amy's similar situation, Amirah suggests that Maggie's behavior stems from personal choices, not just external factors. Amirah's reminder that breakups are commonplace and do not warrant grand narratives forces Maggie to confront the possibility that her struggles may be self-imposed. Despite Amirah’s directness, this harsh truth catalyzes Maggie's journey toward self-awareness and personal accountability as she navigates her healing process.

“I cut back heavily on posting, though the compulsion was still there—to have something to say or show for myself, to ‘share.’ When I did say or show or share something (a tweet about my menstrual cycle, a photo of flowers by the lake with the caption ok spring!!), I felt instantly and viscerally ashamed and often deleted what I’d posted. This did not help. In fact, the deleting felt, in many ways, just as white-hot humiliating as leaving the posts up, because it was the act of posting in the first place, the expression of the compulsion, that shamed me. No need to admit this publicly too.”

Maggie's battle with social media unveils a nuanced interplay of self-expression, shame, and the pressure to craft a polished online identity. Despite her desire to connect and share, she swiftly succumbs to guilt and deletes her posts, perpetuating a cycle of shame. This behavior underscores the performative aspect of online presence and the societal expectation of flawless presentation, forcing Maggie to feel the need to keep up appearances. Even the act of deletion reflects a profound fear of public vulnerability, highlighting the internal conflict between her longing for connection and her dread of judgment. This internal struggle mirrors the contemporary challenge of managing digital identity amidst the pressure to project an idealized online persona while managing personal challenges.

“I thought about that first night with Simon: how can you tell if something you did was a stupid mistake or a real sign of your character? I still didn’t know, but it was starting to feel like thinking about it all the time was not as useful as just trying not to do it again.”

Maggie's contemplation of her encounter with Simon marks a pivotal moment in her journey of self-discovery. She confronts the ambiguity of her actions, questioning whether they signify a mere "stupid mistake" or offer deeper insights into her evolving identity. This internal dialogue underscores her struggle to redefine herself post-divorce and reconcile the uncertainty shrouding her decisions. However, the resolution hints at a shift in perspective, and she acknowledges the futility of dwelling on past missteps. She opts instead to prioritize personal growth over self-condemnation, signaling a more pragmatic approach to shaping her future. This quote encapsulates Maggie's transformative journey, illustrating her transition from self-doubt to a more forward-thinking mindset.

“I can’t tell you because I don’t know. I thought I did, at the time, but the further I get from it the more I see how little I understood what was going on in there. My feelings about it and your mother’s feelings about it are very different. Neither of us is exactly right, but both versions are accurate […] With time I stopped clinging to my own version of events and accepted that two things can be true, that we might never agree about what exactly went wrong.”

Very candidly, Maggie's father offers profound insights into managing interpersonal conflicts. He introduces a new concept to Maggie: the idea that two opposing viewpoints can coexist simultaneously, and both can hold validity. This idea challenges Maggie's tendency to cling to a singular version of events, suggesting that such rigidity harms emotional well-being. Maggie's father's insight pushes Maggie into self-reflection and personal growth.

“‘You started crying—for context, I mean, I’m sure you were drunk—but you were so upset because you thought it was unfair that there wasn’t a ceremony for pledging love and commitment to your friends.’ Emotional Lauren burst out laughing: ‘I remember this, oh my god! You got ketchup on your tits while telling me I meant as much to you as any partner.’ ‘I think her actual phrase was “friends can be husbands too,”’ said Clive. ‘You were very worked up,’ Lauren added. Amirah nodded. ‘You made us all hold hands and promise to love each other forever,’ she said. ‘You called them “our vows”’ […] ‘I want you to know,’ she continued, ‘I meant what I said while you were drunk and eating that burger: you’re someone I promise to love forever.’”

This quote unveils a moment of vulnerability and redefined commitment, challenging conventional notions of romance and fidelity. Despite its origins in a drunken outburst, Maggie's desire for enduring emotional connection resonates deeply, extending beyond romantic partnerships. The ensuing laughter and camaraderie highlight the exchange's unconventional yet sincere nature. Amirah's affirmation of loving Maggie forever further underscores the depth of their bond, transcending traditional boundaries and celebrating the profound connections to be found in platonic relationships. This interaction illuminates the nuanced expressions of love and loyalty, reshaping expectations and honoring the complexities of human connection.