Where the F is Freddie
Synopsis
Lots of married couples keep secrets.
But what happens if it’s the same secret?
Whether running a 5k or competing in a cycling race, Professor Paula Berman and her husband, Dr. Martin Winter, are the power couple you can’t catch. That is until they face rough roads and coast on avoidance. But just when their relationship is spiraling downhill, a bike crash and a scandal slam the brakes on a looming separation. Suddenly, life with their twin sons raises the question about who they really are as a family.
Has Paula been searching for the baby she gave up for adoption? Did Marty have an affair and father a child? After Paula stumbles on a mysterious note Marty wrote, and he opens an important letter addressed to his wife, they must either confess or just keep pedaling. But soon they are facing insurmountable odds to fix what they broke and arrive at a crossroad in their marriage. If they reveal their clandestine choices, they may never make it across the finish line.
WHERE THE F IS FREDDIE is an edgy, razor-sharp comedy that promises readers an exhilarating ride exploring unusual paths to mending broken hearts and promises.
Excerpt
Paula Winter could rattle off the list of therapies she had already tried to manage her anxiety. Holistic therapy (Breathe!). Cognitive Behavioral therapy (Journal!). And her favorite, massage therapy with CBD oils (ZZZZZ!). But, until watching an interview with Dr. Reyna Golden on the *Today* show, she hadn’t considered hypnotherapy. A meditative state that would allow her subconscious vault to be pried open and memories examined like discoveries made during an archaeological dig. Great news, Paula! This explains your panic attacks.
The timing was indeed golden as she felt stymied by her loss of inertia. One day she was fearless in her quest for a pilot’s license and the next she turned fifty and couldn’t force open a bottle of liquid soap without jabbing a steak knife through the center.
“I hate feeling like a mathematical equation,” she complained to her best friend, Judith. “Someone who is less than. Less sharp. Less sure. Less interesting… less needed.”
“And I’ve turned into my mother,” Judith said. “I’m calling everyone honey and darling because I can’t remember a friggin’ name.”
Though aside from identifying as menopausal with frequent mood swings and dry vaginas they joked that they had little else in common.
Paula was a championship tennis player and cyclist. When Judith felt a burst of athleticism, she binged Netflix until the urge waned. Paula paid little attention to fashion. Judith didn’t walk to her mailbox without wearing a designer label. Paula and her husband, Marty, were always in a financial bind. Judith, a wealthy widow, shopped at Target yet never experienced the blood rush to the head that others said they experienced.
But on this they agreed. Family mattered. Friendship mattered. And trust mattered to a point that it was sacrosanct. So, whether they pondered their latest challenges or laughed about recent mishaps (Were they coming closer and closer together like contractions?), a secret shared was a secret kept including the one Paula planned to share at their favorite cafe in Scarsdale.
As she made her way inside the cozy shop and inhaled the doughy scent of freshly baked croissants, she mused how much easier it was to bear her soul to Judith than Marty. Though was it really a surprise? She grew up watching I Love Lucy reruns and knew Ricky got Lucy’s poker face while Ethel was shown Lucy’s real hand.
Best friends don’t judge. They ride at dawn.
Perfect! Judith had claimed a booth in back, a perfect choice as today’s conversation would feel more private without a nosy neighbor in earshot. And as was their tradition, the first to arrive ordered the coffee with a pastry to share. Soon, Paula swallowed a bite of blueberry scone and took a deep inhale.
“I did something brave… I made an appointment to see Dr. Golden.”
“A doctor?” Judith asked. “Isn’t she a hypnotist?”
“She’s both. And when I found out her office is in White Plains it felt like destiny… it’s only fifteen minutes from my house.”
Judith leaned in. “Your last therapist lived three blocks from your house and made you write a thank you note to your breasts. Is location really the key?”
“Dr. Golden is different. She assumes you’re crazy and shows you how to self soothe through hypnosis.”
“Or you could take weed gummies.”
“Hate the hangover,” Paula said. “And now instead of obsessing over Evelyn’s accident, I can put myself into a trance.” She blew the chef’s kiss. “See ya antidepressants and constipation. Plus, she does this thing
called RTT… Rapid Transformational Therapy.”
“Define rapid.”
“A few sessions and I’m cured. So much better than spending another year on another couch, word vomiting to a bored therapist who can’t remember if I’m a patient or an annuity.”
Judith eyed her. “You honestly think your problems can be fixed that quickly?”
“According to her reviews she’s a little miracle worker. And I thought you’d be happy. Aren’t you always saying I’m too predictable?”
“I say you do everything the hard way. Why not watch hypnosis videos on YouTube?”
“Because it’s the leading cause of doom scrolling.”
Judith laughed. “I set a timer now but please be careful. You don’t want to pay another wacko like the last gem.”
“Too late to talk me out of it. She had a cancellation for Saturday.”
“At least call me after so I know you’re not hopping like a bunny. Is it my turn?”
“Isn’t it always?” Paula teased.
Judith sucked on ice to cool the double whammy of hot flashes and a sweltering June afternoon. “I’m pretty sure it was me who sat here the other day listening to you go on and on about Marty’s moodiness. How he still blames you for Evelyn’s accident.”
Fair point. Paula had spent the past year pleading with Marty to understand her side of the tragic story. And while she understood that his emotional recovery was going through stages like descending airspeeds, she didn’t know how much longer she could tolerate the rough air.
“Sorry,” Paula said. “You’re a wonderful listener. What’s going on?”
Judith looked around. “It’s too soon to tell if it means anything but I met someone.”
“I have been waiting for this day.”
“It just feels strange talking about another man. Jack isn’t even dead a year.”
Paula winked. “We won’t tell him.”
Judith gave a thumbs up as if to say, good one, my funny friend. But to Paula it was no joke. She had loathed Jack “Legal” Segal, an arrogant cheat who thought little of his marriage vows, treating his wife like a bit player rather than giving her the starring role she deserved.
“What are his good points?” Paula asked.
“He likes to travel and says he’s learning to cook… I don’t know much more.”
“Because you’ve only gone out once?”
“Twice… plus coffee.”
Paula raised a thinning eyebrow. “My dearest friend of over twenty years, a woman who texts me when the melons at Costco look good, starts dating but doesn’t say a word.”
“I didn’t think anything would come of it,” Judith said. “He’s on the quiet side.”
“Love him already. Does he play pickleball or Bridge?”
“All I know is he’s six years older than me and drives at night.”
“Fine,” Paula said. “Does he wear hearing aids? Move his bowels?”
Judith laughed. “I’ll be sure to ask if we go out again.”
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