Where the Grass Is Green and the Girls Are Pretty

by Lauren Weisberger

  “It was really nice of Sean to let us use his place,” Max said, hoping her mom didn’t think she missed Canyon Ranch. She didn’t. All the rich ladies wandering around in their workout clothes, discussing the health benefits of matcha tea and stuffing their faces with “clean” food and spending lots of hours and even more dollars in the boutique buying yoga mats and fluffy socks and cashmere robes and other things they didn’t need because it was something to do. No thanks.

  They unpacked the groceries they’d bought on the way and chose adjoining bedrooms on the lower level. “What’s first?” her mom asked eagerly. “Hiking? Biking? Leaf peeping? Forest bathing? Tell me.”

  Max laughed. “Why don’t we go get lunch at that place we passed in town? I’m actually starving.”

  “Done! Lunch. Sounds perfect.”

  Max glanced at her mother warily, but she wasn’t being sarcastic or mocking, just genuinely excited. She was obviously trying.

  They drove back down the mountain to town and found the bar and grill Sean had recommended. The twenty-something hostess looked like she might faint when Max and Peyton walked in.

  “Oh my god, you’re Peyton Marcus,” the girl breathed without a hint of self-consciousness.

  Max could feel her own cheeks redden, she was so embarrassed for this girl, but her mom deftly handled the situation.

  “It’s lovely to meet you,” she said, offering her hand to the girl. “My daughter and I would love to have lunch. Any chance you have a good table for us? Maybe something with a nice view?”

  The girl’s skin was now a mottled shade of red, and she was nodding. “Of course, how wonderful, yes, right this way. Please, follow me.”

  She led them through a drab dining room and out a back door, where a nearly empty porch looked out over an expansive mountain lake. “This section isn’t really open right now, but if you’d like…”

  “You’re such a dear,” Peyton said, flashing the girl one of her most winning smiles. “We would love.”

  “Hey, Mom, you still got it,” Max whispered as they sat. She was happy to see her mother give her a wink. Depressed Peyton was far worse than Public Peyton.

  The moment they opened their menus, they were greeted by an equally enthusiastic waiter, a man in his sixties with white hair in a ponytail.

  “Ladies! What can I get you for lunch today?” he practically sang.

  When he left, Max exhaled. “Why is everyone so happy here?”

  Peyton shrugged. “Maybe it’s a country thing? I’ve heard rumors there are people who are content to live in the moment, focus on the good, real glass-half-full types. I just don’t happen to know any of them.”

  Max laughed. “Brynn was like that. It was so annoying. In third grade Mrs. Covington nicknamed her Bright Side Brynn, and it just stuck.”

  “You miss her, don’t you?”

  Normally, a question like that would irritate Max, but whether it was relief that her mother no longer seemed suicidal, or the fact that she was looking forward to a weekend away, Max didn’t feel her usual involuntary wave of rage.

  “A lot. I guess I never realized…we didn’t really need other friends because we had each other.” Max paused. “Had.”

  A different waiter came to take their order, and he was blessedly less enthusiastic. After they ordered, Peyton peered at Max.

  “Would you want to go to Hong Kong to visit Brynn?”

  Max’s eyes widened. “Yes! Definitely.”

  “Well…Dad and I still haven’t gotten you a graduation present. In all the…with everything that happened, I’m afraid that slipped through the cracks.”

  “Are you serious?” Max said, wondering what had happened to her mother. Did she want something? What was her agenda?

  “Completely.” Peyton sipped her iced tea. “Why shouldn’t you go visit your best friend in her new home?”

  Max exhaled. “I would love that. So would she. We were trying to figure if she could come here since she’s taking a gap year, but I was going to be away at school….”

  Her mother opened her mouth and quickly closed it.

  Max waited.

  Again her mother parted her lips, started to speak, and, shaking her head, stopped.

  “Are you having a stroke?” Max asked, obviously kidding, but her mother didn’t laugh.

  “About Princeton…”

  “Mom, can we not? Just for, like, this weekend? It’s been really nice getting away from all of it, and I appreciate you planning this”—she waved her hands toward the rolling green lawns outside the window—“I really do. So much. But I need a break from the college stuff.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll stop.” Her mother cleared her throat. “Am I allowed to say how glad I am that we’re doing this? Plus, it’s really nice not to be working now so we can stay an extra day.”

  Max peered at her. “How are you feeling about work? I know you weren’t expecting to be, um…out the whole summer.”

  Her mom’s eyes widened. “No, I certainly wasn’t. They’re doing what they feel they need to.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “But it will be fine. Because it has to be.”

  Was her mother tearing up? Max felt a stab of panic. She was trying her best to express interest in her life—something she certainly didn’t do enough of—but now she’d gone and made her cry.

  “I didn’t mean it to…” Max said. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, no, it’s not you. It’s just…everything. Here you are, being so understanding, when I’m the one who’s ruined your life.”

  “I do have a future, don’t I?”

  “Of course you do, sweetie. The brightest one. I…I just…” She dabbed fiercely at her eyes with her napkin.

  “I was really looking forward to going away,” Max said quietly, almost in a whisper.

  Her mom nodded.

  “It’s just…high school sucked. Like, in every possible way. And I know I was hatefully obnoxious about Princeton when you and Dad were so excited about it….I’m sorry about that. I don’t think I even realized what a special place it was. Is. Could have been. But, well…ever since I got in, I’ve been researching it, and I had actually gotten excited to go. Did you know they have a whole, dedicated outdoor education program, where they take you on the most amazing trips, all over the region?”

  Peyton shook her head. “I didn’t know that.”

  “And their Program in Visual Arts looks incredible. They get the most amazing visiting filmmakers and guest artists….” She looked down at the table. “It’s super ironic, I guess, that when I was offered a spot, I thought there was a better fit for me somewhere else, and now that the opportunity has been taken away, I can’t think of a more perfect school.”

  “Oh, honey. I’m so…” Her mom’s eyes widened, as though she’d been struck.

  “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” Max rushed to say. “It’s fine. It will be fine. I don’t really know what’s next for me, and that’s not where I thought my life would be right now.”

  “Max…”

  Max held up her hand. What had she been thinking? Here was her mother, already upset enough about everything, and now Max was piling on. “Let’s change the subject,” Max said. “Skye told me you won Homecoming Queen! How could you never have told me that before?”

  “She told you what?” Her mother looked at her, confused.

  “That you won Homecoming Queen in high school! That you were the first junior in the history of the school to win it. I had no idea.”

  An empty laugh. “What’s to tell? That I won some award for being popular? A lot of good it did me. I’m thankful every single day that you’re so much smarter than I was. My god, though, I worked my ass off for that job. Overnight shifts, weekends, backwater towns you can barely find on a map. I was so lonely for those years, living in rando
m places, working odd hours, moving around all the time….My friends were in New York or L.A., dating, partying, traveling. And it seemed like I was locked in this hopeless grind of local police blotter stories. I kept asking myself if it was worth it….”

  “Well?” Max asked.

  “Well, what?”

  “Has it been worth it? You’ve made it—times a thousand. No one can argue that. Was it worth it?”

  “I’m going to get back to that desk if it kills me,” her mom said, but something about her expression made Max wait. Her mom bit her lower lip, the way she sometimes did when she was concentrating, and furrowed her brow. “Although, in hindsight, I worry that I missed too much time with you.”

  “No. You were always there when I needed you. Or Dad was. And you two are pretty much the same person.” Max meant it—when she looked back, she always remembered seeing at least one parent around, probably more than she’d wanted to.

  “You mean that?”

  “I’ll never forget the time you came and spoke to my eighth-grade class for Take Your Working Mom to School Day. You were incredible! People still talk about it.”

  Her mom smiled, but it looked sad. “You’re sweet to say that. I hope so. I don’t know what it is—your father’s arrest, of course, but maybe my big looming birthday, too—I keep thinking about where we all stand now. What’s going to happen. And if I’m doing anything right…”

  “Don’t get all somber on me again!” Max said, trying for jokiness. “I mean, we just got you out of the sweatpants!”

  “Sorry, sorry,” Peyton said, waving her hand. “I promised you we wouldn’t have to talk about it this weekend, and here I go again.”

  “I asked, Mom. It’s okay.”

  “What do you think about trying that chakra class Sean told us about, at his yoga studio?” her mom asked, delicately forking her quinoa.

  “Where everyone sits around on yoga blocks and the instructor bangs all the gongs?”

  “Yes!” Peyton laughed. “Apparently it’s very aligning.”

  “What does that even mean?” Max asked.

  “I have absolutely no idea.”

  “Chakras and gongs it is.”

  * * *

  —

  Guess what?? Getting plane tix for grad present to…drumroll…HK! Max pecked the letters on her phone and, as she always did, wondered what time it was in Hong Kong.

  All of Max’s electronics rang instantaneously. Propping her laptop on her chest, Max clicked accept on the FaceTime call and Brynn appeared on her screen, looking like she’d just woken up.

  “What time is it there?” Max asked, squinting for a closer look. Brynn’s short, choppy hair was a total mess, and whatever shirt she was wearing was stretched at the neck so much that it hung off her shoulder.

  Brynn rubbed her eyes. “Are you serious? About coming to visit?”

  “Yes!”

  “My fucking god, this is the best news I’ve heard in a very long time.”

  Max grinned. It was crazy how much she loved Brynn. How much she missed having a friend like that. Brynn pushed herself up, her laptop shaking as she climbed out of bed. “I’m just going to get water—keep talking, I’ll be right back.”

  “Did you decide between Australia and Southeast Asia?” Max yelled at the screen. “I’m so freaking jealous of you right now.”

  “So come!” Brynn said, bounding back into view and climbing under the covers. “You said it yourself, you have nothing better to do.”

  “Yeah, I’m looking into a few things.”

  “Like?”

  “Like applying now to start in January. There are actually a bunch of schools that do that. I don’t know. I need to get a job as soon as possible, something more substantial than scooping ice cream. Save some money. Figure out a plan.”

  The door to their adjoining bathroom opened and her mom appeared wearing a bathrobe and rubber slippers. “I’m so relaxed I could scream,” she said, padding into Max’s room.

  “Hi, Mrs. Marcus!” Brynn called from Max’s screen.

  “Is that Brynn?” Peyton sat down next to Max and leaned in. “Hi, sweetheart! Stop calling me Mrs. Marcus, it makes me feel old.”

  Brynn laughed. “You’re the coolest old person I know. Next time you take Max away for the weekend, can you bring me, too?”

  “Of course. I’ll let you two talk; I’m going to shower. Brynn, say hi to your parents for me, okay?”

  Her mom cinched the robe belt tighter around her waist and headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

  “I actually have to go,” Brynn said, rolling her eyes. “I promised my father I’d go grocery shopping with him.”

  “Have fun with that,” Max said. “Talk later?”

  When Brynn’s face had disappeared, Max started transferring the video clips she’d shot throughout the day. She’d captured a “Welcome to Vermont” sign from their car ride, a few seconds of the maniacally happy restaurant staff that would be hysterical on a loop, a totally random clip from when she sneaked into the empty yoga studio and banged a gigantic gong, and some selfie takes—shot with a tripod—of her stretched out on one of the condo’s couches with a cup of tea and a paperback. She had a pang of concern. Was it too much? Her fingers flew over the keyboard, cutting, pasting, brightening.

  Her mom emerged from the bathroom. “What time do you want to go for dinner?” Peyton asked, toweling off her hair.

  Max stared at her screen. “A half hour? I’m almost done with this.”

  “What are you working on?”

  Normally, Max would’ve muttered, “My channel,” or “Today’s vlog,” in a tone that made clear to her mother to lay off the inquiries, but after her FaceTime with Brynn and a general sense of well-being that she hadn’t felt in ages, Max looked up from her laptop. “Here, look. I’ll show you.”

  She half expected her mother to make up an excuse, but to Max’s surprise, Peyton immediately joined her on the bed.

  “Oh, I love that!” Peyton said, pointing to a clip from the car ride. The highway stretched ahead of them, but then, in a clearing off to the side, Max had captured a huge group of curious deer. There were probably two dozen of them, the mamas eating and the babies scampering.

  “Cute, right?”

  Max scrolled through the rest of the day’s material and was shocked that her mother not only asked eighty-five thousand questions—that was her job, as both her mother and a journalist—but that she actually seemed interested in the answers. How many times had Max tried to explain to her the purpose of a vlog? Or why strangers wanted to watch them? Or what made one more compelling, artistically speaking, than another? But tonight, as Max showed her mom the list of eight thousand people who subscribed to her channel, who commented and DM’d her and asked questions and signed up for notifications for new posts—well, it seemed to get her attention.

  “And how many of these people would you say you know?”

  “Know, like, in real life?” Max shrugged. “I don’t know exactly, probably a couple dozen? Some girls from Milford, a few people now from Paradise, Brynn and a couple of her friends. But mostly, they’re strangers.”

  “Incredible,” her mom said. “I really admire how you mix it up. Every day is something different, but whether you’re observing things in nature or being a fly on the wall of a pointed social interaction, or creating an ode to the city you so obviously love, you give it such a unique perspective. Not many people can do that, you know.”

  Max felt a warmth spread in her chest. Her father said things like that all the time, but she couldn’t remember the last time her mother had complimented anything other than workouts or food choices. “Thanks.”

  “So…I spoke to Daddy today. He sends his love.”

  Max could feel her mother looking at her. “Oh, yeah?”


  “The judge is recommending a three-week sentence.”

  “In jail?”

  “In a minimum-security federal penitentiary, yes.”

  “Dad’s going to jail? I mean, we all knew this was the probable outcome, but my god, to hear it’s actually happening. This is all so fucked.”

  “Sweetheart, he misses you so much. He asks about you every single day. I know it’s hard to understand at your age, but parenting sometimes makes you lose your mind—even the really smart, even-keel parents completely lose it sometimes. Deep down, you know who your dad really is. What he’s really about comes down to one word: you. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned along the way, and I’m still learning even now, it is that you have to be there for the ones you love, even when they royally mess up. Especially when they royally mess up. You can’t shut him out like this forever.”

  “I don’t plan to shut him out forever. But I’m not ready to forgive him yet.”

  “I know it might be hard to see right now, but you have everything ahead of you—everything. One day this whole awful situation is going to be a tiny blip in your rearview mirror, and you’re going to be a world-renowned cinematographer—or a contented stay-at-home mom, or a skilled tradesperson, or a surgeon—who knows? All I’m trying to say is that Daddy and I both love you so much, and this too shall pass.”

  Max glanced up. “Did you really just say that?”

  Her mom’s face broke into a smile. “I’m sorry. Nisha’s been saying it to me lately, and it makes me want to end her life.”

  “Yeah, I’d want to kill her, too,” Max said. She shut her laptop and turned to her mom. “But it’s not just me who’s completely screwed over. Is there any way that we can help Aunt Skye? With her charity? It’s so unfair that this thing that she dedicated two years of her life to might now not happen because of us.”

  “Honey—” Her mother’s voice caught. “It’s…it’s not…Everything is more complicated than it seems.”