February 12 - Storybook Romance

Oh God, I've made a terrible mistake, thought Sid.
But it was too late. The ball was already rolling, the plan set in motion. There was no turning back.
He'd put together a surprise party for Cindy's 31st birthday, or as he put it on the icing he'd ordered for her cake, the 10th anniversary of her 21st birthday. All of their friends, plus a lot of Cindy's had turned out to the Brooklyn loft that Sid and Cindy had shared since last November. The publishing world was well-represented of course, as were artists of both the established and the up and coming/struggling variety. There were plenty of indie rockers, hipsters, models, etc., too. In short, it was exactly the kind of crowd that always made Sid feel self conscious both because of and despite the fact that he was not just successful, but wildly successful in what few could disagree was a cool/artistic field: writing. But even still, he always felt several rungs beneath this crowd on the credibility ladder. Whereas the rest of the writers in this group trafficked in design magazines, graphic novels, online music zines, and Tweeted short stories, he created pop-up books--and not quirky, edgy alterna-pop-up books like the ones approved of by the hipsteratti on hand that night. No. His were unabashedly, unambiguously mainstream: The Topper Twin series. You've probably seen them at Costco or Sam's Club: The Topper Twins Go to the Zoo, The Topper Twins Go to the City, The Topper Twins Go Trick or Treating, etc. Over the course of a series that counted 23 titles (so far), the Topper Twins had gone pretty much everywhere, but especially to the bank. They'd made it more than possible for Sid to write full time and finance the expensive and expansive loft filled with Cool People he was all but convinced didn't approve of his craft.
Whenever he and Cindy would hang out at a publishing event--which was often, given his job and Cindy's position at Random House--he was pretty sure he knew how The Wiggles must have felt at music industry functions. Or not. For all Sid knew, maybe The Wiggles were perfectly comfortable with the obscene amounts of money they made by using their talents for something so unapologetically Made for Kids.
If so, he envied them. For whatever reason, he always felt the need to scoff at his success, and in a way he did. He definitely didn't have an attitude about it. He knew he was lucky and that there were plenty of other people out there who were perfectly capable of doing what he did, but he was the one who'd been blessed with the winning ticket in the publishing lottery. He always felt like he didn't deserve it, like he hadn't suffered enough for it. Whereas lots of other people there that night were struggling to just get something published, he'd pretty much hit a home run his first time at bat, and had been batting 1.000 ever since. How could people not resent him?
But he knew Cindy liked the group, and in fairness, some of them were OK, but a big party like the one he was hosting wouldn't be the way he would choose to celebrate his birthday. A nice unpretentious dinner with Cindy would be perfect for him. But that would have to wait until July, if they were still together then--hell, if they were still together at the end of the evening.
Meanwhile, Cindy was opening her presents and she had saved Sid's for last. He was nervous to the point of nausea as she picked up the flat package and shook it next to her ear for comedic effect. Everyone laughed and Sid managed something that passed for a smile. "It's a puppy," he said but nobody heard him.
She opened it, registered delight and surprise, and showed it to the rest of the guests: Cindy and Sid Go on a Date. He had made her a pop-up book.
Before he could stop her, she opened it up to the first spread and showed it to everyone like a first grade teacher showing the pictures of a storybook to the class: It was a faithfully rendered replica of the children's room at the main branch of the New York City Public Library, the place where Sid and Cindy had first met when he was doing publicity for The Topper Twins Go to the Park.
His stomach doing a gymnastics floor exercise, Sid forced a smile as Cindy read from the page: "Sid, the super famous, super fabulous children's book writer (He was going for self deprecation via overly fawning self glorification) was on the final leg of an intensely wanky book promotion tour when the most amazing creature in the universe caught his eye." Cindy pulled a lever and a big heart skittered across the page from a cutout photo of Sid to a cutout photo of Cindy.
Although the mixture of laughs and aws were more than he'd allowed himself to hope for when making the book, it was impossible for him to enjoy the moment. He knew what was coming.
It continued with Cindy excruciatingly reading aloud Sid's recounting of their courtship: Their first date (represented in the book by a canoe that could be dragged across a pond), their trip to San Fran (shown in the book by a plane that rose up from one side of the spread (NYC) and then descended onto the other side (San Fran)), and several other relationship milestones. And through it all, Cindy was game. She laughed where she was supposed to laugh and looked touched when she was supposed to.
And yet Sid felt carsick as she made her way inexorably to the end of the book. He knew the whole thing had been a big mistake. He wanted to rip the book out of her hands and save it for a more private moment, but instead he just stood there as she turned to the last page.
A folded up version of Sid popped up and into a kneeling position. In his hands, the folded up Sid clutched Sid's grandmother's diamond engagement ring. Beneath him, the caption read, "Happily ever after?"
Cindy was frozen. The laughter that Sid was sure would come didn't. Instead, all of the oxygen was sucked out of the room by the 50-plus hipster elite who all gasped simultaneously.
Sid swallowed.
His knees trembled.
He couldn't speak.
She said yes.