And finally, the last of the four anchors: Faith.
It had all started out so well. Since Laura and Faith were both single, professional women, they bonded when Faith first came to the station, going out for drinks once per week after the show. None of the others ever wanted to extend their workday into the night.
Laura and Faith shared gossip about people at the station, men they were seeing, their families, and of course the competition, the other TV stations in town. People in newsrooms loved to rip the competition, whether it was because a competing station had misspelled a word on a graphic, had had the camera zoom in at the wrong time, had gone lower in theratings for any reason, or simply for what the lead story had been that night.
“Can you believe they led the whole show with that stupid fluff story that came in as a press release?” Laura might ask, shocked by the decision-making at the other newsrooms. She didn’t believe that anything sent out in a press release should be of importance. It was what a lot of people in TV news called “low-hanging fruit” because the story was easy to get and everyone had it—it was handed to you and to every other station in town.
Laura believed in “enterprise stories” with exclusive big-gets that no one else in the market had. Shows featuring that kind of story were her favorite. To lead off with “First at ten, a Channel 9exclusive…” was thrilling to her. She always told the anchors to read that word with extra emphasis to hammer it home to the viewer.
“Right, what a lame lead,” Faith would giggle, sipping her gin and tonic.
Laura needed someone to commiserate with, and Faith was a good partner for that. They would criticize everything they could think of about the other stations—from the sets to the talent (one station had a main female anchor who stumbled her way through the stories she read; Laura and Faith couldn’t fathom how she kept her job) to the competition’s live shots, music, and graphics, until they finally ran out of steam.
Laura was proud to have the top meteorologist in town on her team. True, Faith was not a fully certified met, but she was the most popular with the public and that was all that mattered. Ratings had gone up since Faith arrived, which meant advertisers would be charged more money for each commercial they bought, which subsequently meant more money for the stationand the company as a whole. Laura got a bonus in her check every six months if the elevenPMratings stayed high, so she especially liked Faith.
For a while, Laura thought she was living on cloud nine (the term she came up with for the password to Faith’s fan page when Perry asked her to think of something clever). That was why what happened in Laura and Faith’s friendship next was so disturbing.
It started with Faith becoming super needy. She began calling or texting Laura at all times of day, saying she was feeling blue and was Laura available to cheer her up? At first Laura was receptive. She was not that surprised to know that someone on air was not as filled with confidence as they projected to the world. Some on-air talent seemed to walk a tightrope between self-assured and riddled with worries and doubts.
So she took on the nurturer role, coming over to Faith’s apartment with takeout and plans to watch Netflix together, or listening to Faith complain about any number of things: weird guys who sent her letters that creeped her out, Matthew and the other mets who gave her the cold shoulder, or Veronica, who invited some other coworkers to her house for holiday drinks but not Faith. Laura suspected that Veronica was jealous of Faith, as were most of the on-air talent, owing to Faith’s ever-soaring popularity.
Then it got even deeper. Faith brought up one of her sisters, Charity, dying at a young age, and she talked about an emotionally abusive childhood. The sister part was too painful to discuss in depth, Faith said, but she went into great detail about how her father would scream at her and her other sister, Hope, if they didn’t get all A’s or their rooms were dirty. He also punished them in an unusual way: through clothing, making them wear ugly shirts he knew they hated and never buying them new clothes, so they were stuck in items that were too small orotherwise ill-fitting and that gave other kids plenty of fodder for mockery.
Her father blew up at her mother if dinner wasn’t made and the kitchen spotless when he came home from work. Faith, her sister Hope, and their mother had so much anxiety over cooking and cleaning that they would be frantically working in the afternoons, eyes on the clock, wiping counters madly up to the second they heard his car turn in to the driveway. He tried to quell her bubbly personality, Faith said, especially after her little sister’s death. Faith told Laura that she wasn’t allowed to truly be herself until she left for college.
Faith cried quite literally on Laura’s shoulder a few times, confessing that she had never gone to therapy about her little sister or father. Laura had to take on the role of therapist, which was something she felt she had done before with others in a newsroom filled with type A but occasionally neurotic people, so she tried to help Faith process things and talk them out. It felt good to help a friend at first, but it got to be too much rather quickly.
Faith seemed to know no boundaries. When Laura met a guy named Elliott through one of those dating apps and they started hanging out, Faith would text even during times she knew Laura was on a date, and if Laura didn’t respond within a few minutes, Faith’s tone would turn and she would accuse Laura of not being there for her in her time of need. Laura knew she was supposed to feel guilty, but she just became more and more pissed.
Elliott moved in. The texting and calling continued, even in the middle of the night, to the point where Elliott said, “No more. This is insane.”
“I don’t know what to do. I can’t block her number,” Laura said. “She’s my met. I need her to reach me for emergencies and vice versa.”
“Then talk with her and make this stop,” Elliott said, a dark look flashing across his face. “Or I’ll make it stop.”
“What do you mean you’ll make it stop?”
“I can’t live like this, Laura. She ruins my workdays, interrupting my sleep. I’ll march over to Channel 9 and give her a piece of my mind.”
“No, I got it,” Laura replied firmly. She was an executive producer. She told people what to do all the time. She could handle this.
The next day she was nervous all afternoon, but determined. After the 6:30PMshow, she asked Faith to speak with her. They went to a side conference room. At first Faith sat down with a big smile and said, “What’s up?,” which made Laura feel worse about what she was about to say to her friend, but an image of Elliott came into her mind and she doubled down. It had to happen.
Trying for a tone that was friendly but firm, she told Faith that texting in the middle of the night had to be for true emergencies and to please respect those boundaries. Laura said it kindly, she thought, adding that she cared about Faith and wanted to be there for her but they needed to set some limits.
Faith’s jawline tightened and her eyes narrowed.
“After all I’ve been through, all I’ve told you about myself, you’re going to treat me like this? Some friend you are. I thought we could lean on each other.” Faith’s tone was acid.
Laura didn’t want to point out that Faith never asked about Laura’s life, nor inquired about Elliott or how things were going, and had completely forgotten Laura’s most recent birthday. “Lean on each other” was truly not accurate, but she didn’t want to exacerbate the situation, so she went for tact in her response.
“And we can, but please understand what a call in the middle of the night does to Elliott… and to me,” said Laura, noticingthat her voice sounded more pleading than stern. She coughed and started again, more firmly. “I really need to set these boundaries, Faith.”
There was silence. Faith stared at her. Laura tried to return the gaze in a way that she hoped was both comforting but also projected a “there is no alternative” demeanor.
“Noted,boss,” Faith said sarcastically. She stood up and stormed out of the room, slamming the door. Laura sighed. She oversaw the show Faith was in and could make decisions about it, but she was not technically her boss. That would be the news director and the general manager.
Laura sat there for a few extra minutes processing the conversation. She didn’t want things to be awkward between the two of them but she also needed to prioritize her still-new relationship with Elliott. She couldn’t allow Faith to get between them. Feelings tumbled within her like clothes in a dryer, but she realized rather quickly that relief was the primary emotion.
