TRAD: Chapter 25

I was not a good actress, but at that moment, I put on an Oscar-worthy performance. “Oh, maybe I’ve heard the name,” I said, but inside, I was freaking out. My professional life and personal life, already getting a little too closely entangled for my comfort, were about to get even closer.

“I figured,” he said. “You really have your finger on the pulse with all of this trad wife stuff. There’s no getting ahead of you!”

No getting ahead of me, indeed, I thought. I’d been thrown some curveballs in my life. Taking a Greyhound bus from Minneapolis to New York City, for example. Going on a Tinder date with a guy who told me he was a magician and then disappeared after saying he was going to the bathroom. Finding out my mother had cancer. But none of that compared to when my boss, with whom I was romantically involved with, asked me to try and interview an influencer who was actually me in disguise.

That was the moment when I had to decide if I was all in on Danny, or all in on Martha. But really, I thought, it wasn’t fair that I had to choose between the two. Couldn’t I do it both? Sure, it might be tricky, but I could try.

I almost laughed, it was so ridiculous, but I held myself together. “I’ll have to do a deep dive to prepare. But it sounds fascinating. Where does she live, again?”

“Kansas,” Danny said, looking at his watch.

“Sorry, do you have to go? I was hoping we could hang out somewhere that isn’t the office…?” I let the implication linger in the air.

“I wish I could,” he said, and he did look sorry. “But I’m meeting John for dinner, and as much as I want to blow him off for you, I do need to keep my job. But I can walk you to the subway.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it, and we headed out into the evening air. When we got to the entrance to the subway, he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

“I don’t want you to go,” I said softly, looking up at him and those deep blue eyes.

“I don’t want to go.” He leaned down and kissed me again, and it was like the earth shifted under my feet. I hadn’t known being kissed could be like that, like jumping into a spring-fed lake or riding a horse at full gallop through a field, excitement and sheer terror all mixed together. “I’ll text you tonight, okay?”

I nodded, and we went our separate ways, with only a few lingering glances as I descended the stairs. How was I going to get myself out of this one? Something like guilt crept through my veins, giving me a chill. I’d crossed the line. I’d lied to Danny. Danny, who was not only my boss, but someone I wanted to date. If it ever came out…I shuddered at the thought. I’d just have to make sure I covered all of my tracks. That way, I could have it all.

As I rode the subway home, my thoughts raced. Danny wanted me to interview Martha. Martha didn’t exist. I was Martha. Danny wanted me to interview myself. Part of me interviewing “Martha” would mean there would be some sort of takedown, which could damage Martha’s brand. How could I pull this off? Would he want me to have photos of Martha? I couldn’t do that, obviously. Maybe I could claim Martha didn’t want her real face shown. The first and only influencer to demand privacy. I snorted at the thought.

Would GLOW be sending me on a trip to visit this woman who didn’t exist? On a trip to Kansas, for that matter. So I’d be getting a free trip for doing…nothing? Should I actually get on the plane to Kansas? Would Danny know if I didn’t actually book the trip?

The travel department for GLOW was separate from what he did, so maybe he would never know if I didn’t go. The whole thing was getting weirder and more complicated by the minute. But I’d have to do it, right? I could tell Danny Martha didn’t agree to talk to me, but I didn’t want to let him down, not when things were going so well between us. Plus, I had a reputation to uphold now.

But if I played my cards right, maybe I could win on both sides. Get a subtle—but not too subtle—hit piece on Martha, and expand her following at the same time. There were plenty of people out there who hadn’t yet been exposed to her and would want to follow her after I featured her.

I didn’t want to take down Martha too hard, because, in my opinion, she wasn’t as controversial a figure as some of the other trad wives online. I’d been careful to do it “right,” if for no other reason than to prove to myself it was possible. Ethical tradwifery or something. It would take some maneuvering on my part, but if I could pull it off, I’d be sitting pretty as both Hannah and Martha, and Danny would be none the wiser. .

I did what I’d been doing when I was stressed about something: I posted through it. As Martha, I asked my followers what they would do in my situation, where a journalist wanted to interview me about my lifestyle. The caveat, however, was that this interviewer was known for her savage, yet well-written, takedowns of these women. What should I do?

While I waited for a response, I called Lottie, but she didn’t pick up. Strange. Back online, the replies were mixed. Don’t do it. Do it, and be a good witness for our cause. Do it, but don’t let them walk all over you. Don’t do it, the media hates the lifestyle we live. It was no help.

I brought the topic up in my Discord group, too. I’d come to care for the handful of women I was mentoring through the group. I’d always been one to scoff at online relationships, but through talking with them and sharing their struggles and triumphs, I was of the mind that online friends were indeed real friends. Some of them had started meeting up in real life, if locations permitted it, and I was a little envious of the relationships being formed that I’d never get to be a part of.

Hi friends, I wrote. I’ve been presented with an incredible opportunity, but I don’t know if I should take it. A journalist from a prominent online magazine wants to interview me about our lifestyle. I don’t know if I should agree or not. I’m afraid she’ll misrepresent what I do. What do you all think?

Here, the answers were more decisive.

You should do it, said one particularly poignant participant. The way you go about teaching us and demonstrating how to live our best lives is a gift, a ministry. While I’d love to keep it to myself, I think you have a duty to share with the world. I’ll pray about it, but I think you should do it.

The more I thought about it, the more I was leaning towards yes. I mean, it would be more suspicious to turn it. It would make Danny question my motives. By doing it, I was covering my tracks better. I basically had to do it in order to keep the facade up, not to mention keep my momentum at work. And my Discord group was right. It was like a ministry. Landing an interview with an influencer who had never done one before? I’d be a god among journalists. I had to do it.

I reached out to Martha, I typed in an email to Danny. She was hesitant at first, but I was able to talk her into it. She’s willing to have me come out, but she said absolutely no photos of her or her family, which I said I could respect. She’s waiting for me to tell her dates, but would like to do it as soon as possible. I’ll work with travel to get dates on the calendar. Excited for this one!

Once that was all set, I went back to my phone and tried Lottie again. It wasn’t like her to not pick up, and I kept trying, but my calls went straight to voicemail.

Is everything alright? I texted. I’m not trying to panic but it’s unlike you to not pick up or text me back. Want to make sure you’re okay. Probably just my mom brain catastrophizing.

I had just started pacing when she called me back. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she said, and I could hear grief in her voice. “I lost the baby.”

“Oh, sweetie,” I said, eyes starting to well up. “I’m so, so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

“After we were texting, I started spotting, and it kept getting heavier and heavier. I called the OB, but she said there wasn’t anything they could do to help me keep the pregnancy.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d never known anyone who had had a miscarriage before. I couldn’t fathom the pain Lottie was going through.

“So now I wait to pass everything,” she sniffed. “I can’t believe I let myself get my hopes up again, to think this pregnancy would end with a baby in nine months.”

“You have to have hope,” I said. “It’ll happen for you, you can try again next month!”

“Stop.” Her voice was harsh, something I’d never heard before. “Just stop with the optimism, okay? Has this ever happened to you?”

“No,” I admitted. “It hasn’t.”

“Then stop trying to act like you know what I should do, how I should feel. I don’t want to try again next month, I want this baby, the one I started knitting the yellow sweater for.” This set off a fresh round of sobs.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, I don’t know what it’s like.”

“I didn’t mean to pop off on you,” she said. “My hormones are going bonkers too, on top of everything else.”

“It’s fine, okay? I’m not offended.”

“It’s just hard, like, I don’t really have anyone else to talk to about this,” she said. “Which is kind of pathetic when you think about it.”

“No, it’s not. Internet friends are real friends.” I wasn’t sure if Martha would say that, but right now, the line between her and me was blurry at best. “I wish I were there to give you a big hug and some of my chocolate chip cookies.”

“Me, too,” she said, her voice still shaky. “You’re a good friend, Martha. I’m glad I have you.”

A twinge of guilt echoed in my chest.

~~~

Danny started every meeting we had together with “what’s your angle?” Usually, I had a clear answer ready for him, but not this time.

“I’m hitting a wall here, I’m going to be honest,” I said, sitting cross-legged in the chair in his office. “I’m not sure what about Martha is giving me pause.” I knew exactly what it was about Martha that was giving me pause.

“You’re probably feeling the pressure from how well your last article did. That’s okay, I’ll talk you through it.” He smiled, and I tried not to melt into a puddle.

“Oh, I’m so sure you will,” I said, and tried to give him a wink. When it didn’t work, we both dissolved into laughter. God, how I loved laughing with that man.

“This is a work meeting,” he said. “Try to stay on task.”

“Easier said than done,” I shrugged. “But okay, I’ll try.”

Things had settled down from the initial rush of the success of the first article on Nicky. Danny helped get me some interviews talking about trad wives on a couple of morning shows and podcasts, and I was surprised to see that I thoroughly enjoyed sharing everything I knew about the lifestyle.

I’d gotten emails from women who thanked me for the work I was doing, telling me how they’d fallen into the trap of striving towards a perfection that wasn’t attainable. Me sharing how Nicky was perpetuating that drive in young women was so needed, they told me. I was doing amazing work, they said. I was pulling back the curtain on the insane standards set by people on social media.

I also got one or two emails from people (men??) telling me I was leading impressionable women into the demonic ways of feminism, and I should be ashamed of myself, but I sent those messages to the trash and didn’t look at them again.

Nicky, as predicted, wasn’t even upset about the article, at least not outwardly. Sure, she made a vague post about “haters” and how she was focusing on things she could control. She used the momentum to share about her pregnancy, and she and Brad must have hired someone and made the kids redo the reveal, because a beautiful video of them jumping up and down with excitement over getting a new sibling hit her page.

All I could do was roll my eyes and scroll on, knowing the truth. Her follower count didn’t take a hit after I wrote about all of the help she had, but since she had close to a million to begin with, it was going to take more than my article to chip away at the number.

Danny was right, though. The pressure was sky-high. It was a tough act to follow, that level of success, even when, unbeknownst to everyone, I had complete control over what the story was going to be with Martha. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe I needed more parameters, a foil who was a real, live person driving me to write the best story I could, to weave my own truth from the words they told me.

“I think that’s part of it.” It was hard to concentrate on work when Danny was sitting in front of me, glasses on, brow furrowed in concentration. It took everything in me not to jump over the desk and finish what we started on the couch in the common area, but I wasn’t willing to risk getting caught in another workplace hookup.

“And she’s still a firm no on the photos? Do we want to still send Jordan out with you just in case she changes her mind?”

“No,” I said quickly. Hopefully not too quickly. “It was hard enough convincing her to talk with me. I don’t want to ruin her trust in me by showing up with a photographer. If, for some reason, she changes her mind, I can take some pictures on my phone. Not the end of the world.”

Danny crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“I really don’t think she’s going to change her mind,” I said. “It won’t be a problem, and I don’t want to waste money by flying Jordan out there for nothing.”

“Okay,” he said. “As for the angle, why don’t you get there and see what the vibes are? There will be a thread to pick at. I normally don’t tell my writers to go in without a plan, but you’ve got the experience and the talent. You’ll be fine, I have complete faith in you.”

My chest swelled with pride, despite the fact that I was still no closer to knowing how I was going to write this article. I was leaving in a couple of days, and I had a lot of work to do before then.

He gave me a look across the desk that stopped my heart. “Will you let me know when you get back? We’ve both been swamped lately, but I’d love to see you again. Maybe take you out on a real date? I think we have some unfinished business.”

I flushed and bit my lip. “I’d love that.”

chapter 25

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