Life in High Def

by Kimberly Cooper Griffin

  Tristan watched Reilly as she tried to hide the tears that threatened to come, but she wasn’t able to stop a few from slipping down her cheek. She wiped them away with a finger and raised her eyebrows in a silent plea for some understanding.

  “Well, when you do decide to add to that story, please remember your friends Tristan and Melinda.” Unbelievably, he didn’t push. Reilly was grateful.

  “I will Tristan, I will,” said Reilly with a smile that she could not feel.

  “So, about those rumors about you and Cray Layton…”

  Just Breakfast

  “DID DAD ENJOY EUROPE?”

  Reilly slid into her seat at the Ova Café, finding it interesting how nervous she felt about meeting with her mother. It was just breakfast, but it was the first time they’d gotten together since the day five months ago when she had told her that she couldn’t work with her anymore. They had spoken on the phone a few times, and those conversations had all gone well, but it felt different face to face. Reilly pushed her hair behind her ears and took the menu from the waiter as she waited for her mother to get settled at the table.

  “You know your father. If there is wine to be swilled or beer to be drunk…” answered Melissa with a smile and an accepting sigh. “For a while I thought that you took after him in that regard, but you seem to have grown up a little faster than he did.”

  Reilly took in the comment and decided that, in her mother’s way, it had been intended as praise toward her and not a slam on her father. She smiled back and watched her mother lower her sunglasses to scan the menu that the waiter had just handed to her. They were seated at their usual table on the patio. It was still crowded, even though most of the plastic covers were pulled down around the deck to block the November chill. It was a little strange joining her mother for breakfast like this and not having work to discuss. The meeting felt like old times, but different.

  “Yeah, he does like his beer and wine,” said Reilly, even as she thought that she really didn’t know her father very well anymore. Not since the accident happened and he had withdrawn from her. He had withdrawn from everything, really. As far as she knew, all he did was work and golf. But she hadn’t seen him in so long she didn’t know what he did to fill his time these days. She’d been surprised that he’d gone to Europe with her mother, though. Surprised that either of them had gone, actually.

  “We had fun. He geeked out on the architecture and I got my fill of shopping for a while.”

  Reilly raised an eyebrow at her mother.

  “I’m not sure I completely believe you. Dad and architecture? That, I can see. You, tired of shopping, though?”

  “Seriously. If I see the inside of another dressing room, I will run,” laughed Melissa, putting down her menu.

  “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

  “Even old dogs can surprise you once in a while.”

  Reilly was happy to see her mother so relaxed. It looked like the vacation had done some good. When she had called her mother a few weeks earlier, after reading the book, Melissa hadn’t immediately returned her call. She had surprised Reilly by calling a few days later, though, from a bistro in the south of France. That was how Reilly had discovered that her parents had gone to Europe. It was the first vacation that the two of them had taken since Reilly had been a little girl. And Reilly surprised herself by feeling a little left out, and a lot hurt, for not knowing about their plans. Her mother’s call from the bistro had been short, but a start at rebuilding their relationship. She decided that she needed to spend more time with her parents. She didn’t want to find out that they’d left the country after the fact again.

  When the waiter returned to take their orders, they asked for their usual egg white omelets. Reilly ordered coffee, while her mother ordered a pomegranate mimosa.

  “I saw you on The Morning Show earlier this week,” said Melissa, picking up her napkin.

  “I wimped out,” Reilly didn’t even pause before she answered. She’d been thinking about it all week long. Over and over, she had gone through that interview in her mind. All along she had insisted on not making it about herself. Now she realized that it had just been a ruse. She hadn’t avoided talking about it out of respect for a man’s memory. She’d avoided it because she hadn’t really taken responsibility for it. Taking responsibility for it was so much more than admitting to having done it. She had to also understand how she had allowed it to happen. That’s where she’d failed. She still didn’t have any answers, but she could have said that. She could have talked about it and released some of the mystery. Given Matt his due. So many times, she had picked up the phone to ask Trip to schedule a do-over.

  “Wimped out on what?” asked her mother, looking up from spreading her napkin over her lap.

  “Not talking about the accident,” replied Reilly, expecting her mother to change the subject. Her mother surprised her.

  “I thought you were brave.”

  “Brave? Really? How was I brave?” Trip had said the same thing when she had returned to the green room after the show, where he’d waited. She had been numb and exhausted from overthinking what her other responses could have been. She hadn’t believed him, either.

  “Reilly, you admitted to the entire world that you killed a man.”

  “How is that brave? I went to prison for that. I just said what everyone else already knows.”

  “Well, for starters, it’s one thing to be convicted of a crime, Reilly. It’s an entirely different thing to own up to it. To face it directly. You didn’t learn that from me, I will be the first to tell you. And you were right not to go into it with those two that morning. The tone of the show was too… too… irreverent up until then. And then he goes and gets all Barbara Walters on you. Only Barbara Walters has the class to pull that kind of emotional switcheroo and get away with it. I can’t wait to hear the interview when you do decide to discuss what happened in its entirety. I’ve had an onslaught of calls from journalists who want that interview, by the way. I’ve sent them all to Trip.”

  The waiter delivered their beverages and Reilly busied herself with doctoring her coffee while she digested all that her mother had just said. She wondered then, why she’d found it so hard to talk about. They were talking now and it wasn’t hard.

  “What’s the other thing?” she asked after she took a sip of the hot beverage.

  “What other thing?”

  “You said ‘for starters.’ That infers there’s more. Is there?”

  “Oh, yes. The other thing was when you told Tristan that the rumors of your sexuality were none of his business, but that if he did insist on spreading them, he should get it right and stop pairing you up with men. I think that Melinda was hoping for another kiss to prove it,” Melissa giggled at the last, and though Reilly wanted to talk to her mother about the other thing, she was beyond surprised at her mother’s broach of the subject that had sat between them for so long.

  “Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?” asked Reilly.

  “What?”

  “Where is the woman who insisted that I act straight in public? The one who ‘leaked’ rumors of my romantic interest in men so that I wouldn’t sink my career? The one who ripped me a new one after the kiss you’re now giggling about? Giggling!” Reilly was amused, but her amusement was tinged with anger. Where had this mother been when she needed her? Instead she’d been left with a mother who had been controlling and judgmental.

  “I still think that you’re playing with fire. And if one of these movies that you’re scheduled to star in flops, and they blame it on your inability to authentically play the female romantic lead across from the next Mr. Hollywood, I will have a hard time not saying ‘I told you so.’ But since I am no longer responsible for your career decisions, I admit that I feel a lot more accepting of your lifestyle. It’s kind of liberating, to be honest.”

  Reilly was incredulous.

  “Wow. I’m not sure what to do with that.”

&nb
sp; “There’s nothing to do. I do reserve the right to be a mom, though. I still disapprove of that Sylvie creature. Not because she’s a woman, but because she’s absolutely not good for you. I never see her in the papers with Parker anymore. I hope to god that you haven’t picked back up with her. If you have—“

  Reilly interrupted her.

  “I haven’t seen or heard from her since before I went to prison, mom. You have no worries there.”

  “Thank goodness for small blessings. I’m glad that you decided to remain single for a while.”

  “Well, there is someone else.”

  Her mother sighed.

  “Why am I not surprised? Is it a man? A woman?”

  “Woman, mom. It will always be a woman,” Reilly responded with an angry glare.

  “Sorry. I will never again assume, or wish, otherwise.”

  Reilly paused a moment, knowing that the strength of her anger was because of old triggers. Her mother seemed to be trying, and she needed to meet her at least halfway.

  “Her name is Drew. She owns a yoga studio in West Hollywood. You saw her one day at the studio, but you probably wouldn’t remember.” Reilly didn’t want to remind her that it was the day that she had fired her.

  “How long have you known her?”

  “I met her right before the accident, and we were friends for a while, but we just recently started seeing each other as more than that.”

  “Is it serious?”

  “I love her, mom.”

  Her mother studied her.

  “I can see it on your face. Is it mutual?”

  Reilly nodded.

  “I can’t wait to meet her. What are your plans for Thanksgiving? Will you bring Drew to dinner?”

  Reilly was shocked. Her mother had never invited one of Reilly’s girlfriends to the house, let alone a holiday event. In the past, it had never been an issue, since Sylvie had always gone home to her own parents’ house for the holidays, and Reilly and her parents had always celebrated with a small dinner. That was all before she had gone to prison, though, and before she and her mother had had the falling out, so Reilly hadn’t counted on anything being the same this year. She hadn’t even expected to be invited over herself.

  “Drew and I are having some friends over for an early Thanksgiving dinner this afternoon, actually. We don’t have plans for Thursday, though. I wasn’t sure you were planning on doing dinner this Thanksgiving.”

  “Of course I was. We do it every year. You’ll bring Drew, then?”

  “Sure. I’ll ask her,” said Reilly.

  “Good. It will be nice.”

  Their food was delivered and they were quiet for a few minutes while they got everything situated. When the waiter left, Reilly caught her mother looking at her and she smiled. Reilly liked the new ease she felt with her mother, and she hoped that it would last.

  “Hey. By the way, here’s to your new book,” said Reilly, picking up her water glass and tipping it against her mother’s champagne flute. Her mother smiled and returned the gesture. The insecurity Reilly saw in her mother’s eyes touched her.

  “Thank you, Rye. I’m nervous. What if it flops?”

  “It won’t flop. I told you that when you were still in France. It’s really good.”

  “You’re sweet. I’m still worried, though. I’ve been thinking, you’re right about leaving out the whole accident. I really thought that it was your story to tell. But people are going to wonder.”

  “I thought you took care of that by putting in an epilogue.”

  “I did. But I’m thinking now that I rushed it. What if it was a mistake?”

  “It will be fine.”

  “But—“

  “It will be fine.”

  Reilly smiled back at the look of gratitude she received from her mother as she took a bite of her omelet.

  I Don’t Think They Meant to Record This

  “HANK! YOU’RE EARLY!” SAID REILLY, a couple of hours after brunch with her mother, but still an hour before she’d expected anyone to arrive for the early Thanksgiving gathering she and Drew had planned for their small group of friends. Hank, who was standing on the porch with a cardboard box held to his chest, shifted the box to look at his watch.

  “Is that a veiled jab at my very intentional efforts at being fashionably late? It’s ten after two. I can go wait in the car for another fifteen minutes,” offered Hank with a laugh.

  “You were supposed to be here at three.”

  “Cray said two.”

  Reilly stepped to the side, realizing that she was being rude by keeping him on the porch. “It doesn’t matter. Come in! It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages!”

  “Because it has been ages,” said Hank over the burden he carried, leaning to the side to kiss her cheek as he passed her on his way into the house. “You look awesome! All glowy. Love suits you, my dear.”

  “Thank you. And right back at ya. Where’s Cray? Is the dessert he raved about in the box?” asked Reilly, looking down the front path for signs of Hank’s partner. She couldn’t wait to see what he had made. Cray had been very mysterious about what he was going to bring, but promised it would be a culinary masterpiece.

  Reilly was excited about the gathering. She’d never really been much of a hanging-out-with-friends kind of person and the gathering was a new thing for her. It seemed so “normal”, whatever “normal” really meant, and she liked how it felt. Even the fact that everyone she’d invited had offered to bring something to add to the festivities promoted a quaint ambiance of intimacy around the whole thing. Fergie and her partner Serena were going to be there, bringing a pumpkin pie. And Alison and Lisa were coming with a vague promise of “some sort of side dish”. Trip had declined the gathering, having already made plans to be in Aspen with his husband, but they’d sent over a couple of bottles of wine with a request that the group text them a group photo during the first toast so they could join them virtually.

  “Cray’s just a few steps behind. He’s bringing in the wine and the Black Forest Trifle that he whipped up this morning.”

  “What’s with the box, then?”

  “This,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her and nodding to the box in his arms, “is the box of stuff the police took out of your car, plus a couple of things that they had left that I cleaned out of your car before I sold it. You can open a store with the number of sunglasses and hoodies you left in there. Not to mention how much I could have gotten on eBay for the leopard print thong I found in the back seat. I know. I’m a good friend. You’re welcome.”

  Reilly tried to see into the box over his shoulder, but only saw a mound of sweatshirts. She wondered what else was in it but figured it couldn’t be too interesting if she hadn’t missed any of it over the last four years. The thing she didn’t want to see in the box was the check for the sale of the BMW. She’d told Hank to keep it for the trouble of dealing with the car since he got it out of impound all those months ago, but he’d already tried to give the check to her twice. She decided that if she saw it in the box, she’d give it to charity this time.

  “I gave the check from the sale to the Human Rights Campaign, by the way. I did it in the name of that vile representative from Minnesota, though it pains me to speak that woman’s name aloud.”

  “You didn’t! That’s awesome!”

  “That’s me. Awesome Hank. Now where can I put this? I’m getting a cramp from holding it.”

  “Just put it there. I’ll go through it later,” she said with a laugh, motioning to the credenza that stood against the wall in the entryway.

  “Hell-oooo, gorgeous! Help a girl out? Take this bottle of wine,” called Cray, shifting a large glass bowl in his arms to hand Reilly a bottle of wine as he came up the walk. It never failed to surprise her when Cray dropped the butch movie star façade and showed his campy side. He didn’t do it often, just around Hank and close friends. She wondered how much effort it took to keep the two sides of him separate.

  “Oooh
, that’s beautiful—and probably very fattening!” said Reilly, eyeing the gorgeously layered dessert. She tried to dip her finger into the dish, but missed her target of thick whipped cream sprinkled with chocolate curls when Cray swiveled away from her, keeping the dish out of her reach.

  “Down, girl! You only get to admire it until after dinner.”

  “I told you, he worked on it all day,” explained Hank, then he turned to his lover. “Hey, Cray-Cray, Reilly said we’re early.”

  “No, we’re—Oh my god! That’s right! You told me three and I told Hank two so we wouldn’t be an hour late and ruin this fabulous dessert. I forgot my own lie! I can’t believe I did that! How the hell did we get here this early? We’re always late!”

  “Because you wouldn’t let me—“

  Cray put a hand over Hank’s mouth. “Hush, shnookums! Reilly doesn’t want to hear about our raunchy sex life.”

  Reilly laughed so hard she snorted. Hank rushed over and hugged her from behind, tickling her sides.

  “Laugh all you want, woman, but I’m surprised we didn’t interrupt you two mid-cunnilingus since we’re early. Talk about nymphos.”

  Reilly laughed harder and spun away from him, getting ready to launch her own attack, when Cray rolled his eyes and waved the dessert just under her nose. Then he turned toward the kitchen.