Increasingly, for me anyway, the worst part of our exile isn't so much the "living in Bakersfield" aspect, although that's no walk in the park. For me, the unbearable thing is the isolation.
For over a year now, I've worked from home, alone. The boyfriend leaves at 6:30am and doesn't get home until 6:30pm and most evenings he's so tired he's not much of a conversationalist. All of my contact with my clients is through email, which means the only time I speak most days is to the dogs, and as you can imagine, it's a pretty one-way conversation.
I can't remember the last time I heard anything from friends and colleagues back in LA, and to be honest I haven't made the effort to stay in touch. Initially, I was so ashamed and embarrassed by our banishment to Bako, and so convinced it was going to be brief, that I only told a couple of people. Better to let people assume I was still in LA and the less I talked to anyone the simpler the web of lies I'd have to spin to keep the charade going. But in the end, I've dropped off everyone's radar.
We've made some feeble attempts at making friends here, but the bottom line is we have nothing in common with the people here and the more people we meet, the more resigned we are to just cocoon ourselves in our little tract house.
The end result for me is I'm starting to fear I'm losing my ability to function in polite society.
When one of my clients shockingly called me earlier this week, I found myself having difficulty forming coherent sentences since I'm so out of practice in speaking to humans.
And tonight, my grasp of social graces is going to be put to the test because we're driving into Beverly Hills to attend a Christmas party.
It's a company party, thrown by what's now my best and most important client. I wasn't surprised I was invited - I designed the invites. I've never actually met the client, he was referred to me by a friend and we've only ever communicated through email.
Initially, I declined saying we had a prior engagement. Schlepping two hours each way to mingle with strangers for an hour or so seemed ridiculous. Of course I couldn't actually say that since the client believes I live in LA. But he was insistent. We simply HAD to attend, he said. The "or else" was implied. And so we're going.
God I hope I don't fuck this up. I don't know if I can even walk and talk at the same time anymore, let alone be witty and charming, which is kind of what's expected at these things. Hopefully it's like riding a bike. Come to think of it, I don't know if I can even do that anymore.
I should have practiced.
