Her American Classic (Part 2)

by G J Morgan

  “Can Emma wake me up when she gets here?”

  “OK, deal,” hoping to God she wouldn’t last that far.

  “Night, Daddy.”

  “Night, fart pants.” I closed the door, already predicting this wouldn’t be the last I’d hear from the girl determined to greet our late-night arrival.

  * * *

  I too did my best to stay up for Emma, camped out in the front room, remote control, newspapers, magazines, cans of Coke, mini-bar peanuts. Watched a pay-per-view movie that was as long as it was bad, tried to tidy up all the crap on my phone, a spring clean, deleting photos, culling old acquaintances, friend-requesting new ones. Most of what I got rid of was Vince.

  Through March and April, I don’t know how many phone calls and voicemails he must have left me, I lost count. He was persistent, I’ll give him that, but in the end even he must’ve worked out I wasn’t going to play ball, his last message just said I’d made the wrong move, whatever that meant. Whether that was genuine concern or a threat, I couldn’t tell, better to expect either. Mum kept asking what I would do if the truth came out about me and Lilly for the world to see, what plan I had if the worst was to happen. Again, Mum had forged her own conspiracies, thought I was welcoming the prospect of me and Lilly being thrust together again. She was wrong, wrong about a lot of things actually. She’s always thought she knew how I felt and what I wanted. I wasn’t saying things were ideal and sometimes I was conflicted, but one thing I’d always tried hardest to be was realistic. Lilly left and Emma didn’t and that was why Emma was the future and Lilly was the past. Forget who I love or loved more, it made no difference.

  No, I couldn’t guarantee that Emma and I would work, but I could guarantee if it didn’t, it would be nothing to do with Lilly. That was a promise, if our relationship fucked up, it would be our own fuck-up and the only people to blame would be ourselves.

  Don’t get me wrong, I was nervous, Florida felt a big enough risk, bringing Emma only made it riskier. I knew it was hardly the done thing to move your new girlfriend into your in-law’s house. But Lou welcomed the prospect, in fact he downright instigated it and quite frankly wouldn’t have it any other way, no matter what other suggestions I put forward. Now there was no more planning, houses had been sold, possessions boxed. Dad’s stuff had been donated and given away, a couple of neighbours took a few sculptures, we kept a few small ones, the library, the college where he taught were happy for half a dozen canvases. In centuries people might wonder how and why one man’s art could take over one tiny village, I hoped they made it more romantic than it was too big and expensive to take anywhere else.

  I heard the hotel door, a quiet knock. Opened it to find Emma looking both tired and relieved, gave her a big hug, took her suitcase through, made her a herbal tea. We didn’t stay up long, it was late enough already, went to bed, woke up the next morning strangled by her arms and limbs, Emma cuddling me from behind, like she never wanted to let go. We were still getting used to each other’s space and intimacies. We’d only shared a bed a handful of times, both of us had slept alone for so long we’d forgotten the etiquette, hadn’t quite worked out who cuddled who, hadn’t even worked who slept on what side. Probably why it still felt a little awkward, why neither of us slept too well, why deep down we still longed for our own beds. I’m not sure why I’d lied before when Mum asked if we’d slept together, though technically I hadn’t – we had slept together, just not the way Mum had implied and not the way I insinuated when I answered.

  61

  Next day, after Emma had gotten back some of her missed sleep, after she’d washed the twelve-hour flight out of her hair, I thought it best to get out of our stuffy hotel rooms and get us all some city air. Didn’t have any real set agenda, headed to the centre, in search of whatever it had to offer. Molly was on tour-guide duty having already spent the last few days in palaces and dungeons. I was trying to stay enthusiastic, several nights on a thin mattress had ruined my back, it took a coffee-and-cake pick-me-up till I was ready to embrace a new day. It wasn’t too difficult to embrace, not a grey cloud in the sky, tourists lapping up every green space, every cafe with an umbrella stand, ice creams, beer and lime wedges. London was at its best and I showed it off as if it was my own.

  “Looks like my daughter intends to buy the whole of the city.” Emma pointed in front as Molly and Mum browsed more Union Jack tack.

  “We better be careful. I have a feeling her new bedroom could be a shrine to Britannia.”

  “Do you think she will miss England?”

  “Once the excitement wears off, yes. I’m sure there’ll be a comedown.”

  “You could pack some things to take with her. That’s what I did when I first left for Thailand. Little reminders to tide me over on my down days.”

  “You had down days? You don’t seem the sort.”

  “Not many, but yes at the start especially. I missed my mother a lot at first.”

  “Friends?”

  “Not really. I had a few friends back home, some from university, but they were never close enough to make me miss them. I’ve always been used to my own company. The lone wolf, my mother calls me.”

  “Even lone wolves can get lonely.”

  “I’m never lonely, Tom. Just a bit funny about crowds. Being small and quiet I tend to find it quite intimidating, tend to get barged over, find it hard to get my voice heard. I’m not odd, am I?”

  “Not odd, everyone is wired a little differently. I wouldn’t be ashamed or embarrassed about it. My dad was similar, he was much more comfortable in his own space, in his own little world. Have you packed enough of Thailand in your suitcase just in case?”

  “Everything I’ll miss about Thailand are things I couldn’t pack or take with me. And deep down I always knew it wasn’t home. I always knew it wouldn’t be where I’d settle.”

  “You sound like me. My travelling days are over, want to find somewhere and stay put.”

  “Me too.” I felt my hand being squeezed tighter.

  “Hope I don’t start letting myself go,” I said. ”Put two stone on and start listening to James Blunt.”

  “What’s wrong with James Blunt?”

  “A lot is wrong with James Blunt, Emma. Too much to go into.”

  “You don’t think we’ll get fat, do you? I do worry about how they eat over there.”

  “We won’t go obese. If we do, we’ll get fat together, that way we’ll be declining at the same speed. Might be a bit quieter than Thailand though. Clearwater is the mobility scooter capital of the world. Though Tampa isn’t too far away if you fancy a pulse from time to time.”

  “I quite like the quiet, actually.”

  “You won’t get bored, I hope.”

  “Not of you or your family.”

  “Good.” Giving her a kiss, forgetting she wasn’t always comfortable being affectionate in public.

  Molly came darting over.

  “Daddy, what’s happening over there?”

  I looked through the people, a small crowd, staff positing metal barriers, media setting up cameras. “Seeing as it’s Leicester Square, I’m guessing Hollywood has arrived.”

  “Can we go and see, Daddy?”

  “We can take a quick look, yes.”

  Emma held back, her arm stiffened. “I don’t know, Tom. It looks like people shouldn’t be over there, seems busy. Molly, you might get squashed.”

  “I won’t,” she said clinging onto my other arm. “Please, Daddy.”

  “A quick look won’t hurt,” Mum said. “Never know, we might see someone famous.”

  “I doubt it,” I said. “They normally don’t start till it’s night-time, I’m guessing they are setting up for later. We’ll have a walk over. Don’t worry, Emma, I promise no one will get squashed or trampled, especially you.”

  “You guys go. I’ll stay here. I’ll have a
look around the shops. I don’t mind.”

  “Emma, you’ll be fine. I’ll look after you, I promise.”

  “OK, Tom,” she said, taking a deep breath, squeezing my hand a little tighter, smiling like she always smiled, like it was for someone else’s happiness rather than her own.

  “What is the first thing you want to do when we get to Florida?” I asked the table.

  “Eat more ice cream,” Molly said, laughing hysterically. “Kick Lou up the bum.”

  “Molly, don’t play with your food. And sit on your chair properly, please,” Mum said, not looking best pleased with her granddaughter. “Me, I want to eat buffalo shrimp with blue-cheese dressing. Followed by she crab soup, followed by molasses bread. Eat everything I’ve read about.”

  “Thinking with your stomach as always, Mum. Emma, you?”

  “Just looking forward to it all, really. Probably go to the beach. Oh, and the Walt Disney castle. Or is that a bit predictable? What about you?”

  I sipped through my straw. “Me, I want to go for a drive. Take Lou’s car out, get to know the place, find my bearings, work out where things are.” I looked down at my dessert, hardly started and I was already defeated. “Help me with this cheesecake, Emma? I’m not making a dent here.”

  “I can’t even finish my tiramisu, let alone yours. Besides I don’t like cheesecake, remember?”

  “What? You like James Blunt. You don’t like cheesecake. I can’t see me and you lasting.”

  “You don’t mean that, do you?”

  “Please tell me you like normal cheese though. I can’t trust anyone who doesn’t like cheese. Answer wisely, this could be a deal breaker.”

  “I like cheese, well not all cheese. I don’t like Stilton.”

  “I can live with that, I suppose. You OK?” noticing her yawn. “Jet-lagged?”

  “A little, yes.”

  “I’ll get the bill, head back, have an early night.”

  She smiled. “I’ll pop to the lady’s room.”

  “Can I come?” Molly jumped up.

  “Of course, you can,” she said. “Give that face of yours a wipe. You’ve got more ice cream on your mouth than in your tummy,” she said as she took Molly’s hand, made her way through the busy restaurant, weaving past giant pizza plates and waiters grating parmesan.

  For a moment, Mum and I didn’t speak, concentrated on our desserts.

  “Tom.”

  “Can I try some of your panna cotta?” I said, taking my spoon to her plate.

  “Tom.”

  “I prefer yours to mine.”

  “Tom.”

  “Mum, I know what you are going to say,” I said, avoiding eye contact.

  “It means she’ll be here, doesn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “How can I go?”

  “Because of Emma?”

  “What do you expect me to say? Oh, Emma I’m just popping out to see the woman I still love, I’ll only be an hour.”

  “You could make up another excuse.”

  “Even if I did want to go. You assume Lilly wants to see me.”

  “She might.”

  “She doesn’t. She never answered my calls. She’s back with Max. The last person she’d want to see is me.”

  “I don’t care if she does or doesn’t. I want you to see her because I want you to get those answers you were never given. Get that closure you need to move on with your bloody life.”

  “And what plausible excuse could I possibly give to Emma?”

  “Just say an old friend wanted to catch up with you for a few drinks.”

  “Let’s say I did go, which I’m not. How would I even get close enough? This isn’t some farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, this will be heavily policed, security will be tight.”

  “You’ve gotten close before. Closer than anyone else has ever got. You’re a smart boy. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  Just then we noticed Emma walking back, Molly in her arms, as we switched the conversation back to something light-hearted, calamari or cancer, anything but Lilly.

  62

  The worst was over. Panic attacks subsided. I was en route, nothing anyone could do about it now. I’d spent the last hour being talked to, grilled by Sally, advised by publicists, warned by PR guys, all huffing and puffing as they became experts on meteorology, studying change in wind speed, forecasting cloud movements, contemplating the skies outside. All day London had predicted showers, so what umbrella and how to use it had taken over my last three hours. Now in the car, looking out my tinted windows, it was a worry over nothing, the threat of heavy rain was an empty one and wet hair looked a tragedy Team Goodridge had narrowly avoided. Not sure what all the fuss was about, wasn’t like I’d be camped out in it like most of those poor fans and paparazzi and it would take more than heavy drizzle to put me out of this good mood.

  I always looked forward to premieres, made me remember what my profession was, forget all the bullshit that comes with it and just sit in a movie theatre and be entertained, watch actors and actresses and made-up stories become reality for a couple of hours. Closest I get to feeling a rock star or a big-time ball player too, the build-up of knowing hundreds and thousands were about to scream my name. The fact Tom might be here may have been a reason for my big smile too, in fact I’d been smiling since I first woke up this morning.

  We weren’t moving fast, though traffic rarely did in London. I could already hear the noise, the cheers and whoops, so we must have been close. I took out my mirror from my bag, one final make-up check, checked my cell for the first time today, message from Mum reminding me Ringo was at the vet’s, reminder from Max reminding of where I was and what I wasn’t allowed to do.

  I replied to both, told Mum to give him a kiss from me, told Max I’d get Tom to say hi. Of course, I regretted it instantly, I thought it would be funny, thought he’d know I’d only said it as a joke, to make him squirm. Quickly I sent a second reply, making sure he understood the gesture was meant as a joke, worried Max was already plotting his retaliation. I bet he hated every second of this, the one thing he had no say in, even he couldn’t meddle in me fulfilling my media obligations, made even better by the fact he was back in LA, not by choice of course, commitments he was unable to decline or delegate, otherwise he would’ve been here right beside me, strolling the red carpet, arm in arm, forced smile and gritted teeth.

  I hadn’t told anyone, but I very nearly drove to Tom’s house. I had a rare day off, told myself there was no chance Tom would be in London, decided to make a mad dash for it, got my concierge to secretly get me a car and driver, drive me halfway up the country before I had a reality check and told him to turn back around. I wasn’t thinking straight, thinking with my heart, not with my head.

  Filming with Max was nearly over as well, he’d promised once the film was made I could do what I wished, in fact he encouraged it, said it would make the media go wild. Though that was before, being with me every day had made him territorial again, made him jealous. I got the feeling nothing would change once the filmed wrapped, in fact I expected it to get a whole lot worse. Hence my urgency, hence my erratic thinking.

  Problem was, the mood I was in, being here, being caught up in all the euphoria, the less concerned I was about what punishment would come mine or Tom’s way. A dangerous mood to be in, a mood that had repercussions, both good and bad. But I couldn’t live my whole life this way, a constant threat over my head, my life always able to be bargained and bartered with. Besides I was running out of time, tomorrow was another airplane, tomorrow might be too late.

  Even now I still couldn’t work out why Tom meant so much to me, how I knew I needed him. It wasn’t complicated, I know sometimes love can be, but this wasn’t. Tom
made me wake up happy and go to bed happy, look forward to what was coming next, be satisfied with yesterday, no man had done that before.

  The car stopped.

  The driver told me we’d arrived, not that I needed telling.

  Deep breath.

  “Time to shine, Lilly,” I said under my breath as the car door opened, noise and flashes hit me like a wave, a wall of faces when I was looking for only one.

  63

  I looked at my watch. I was a mess, head in my hands, staring at an ugly carpet, working out what to do with my hands. I’d have been smoking too, if I hadn’t already given up.

  The rest had gone to bed hours before, I had Mum to thank for that, she orchestrated the yawning and early baths and hot milk so Molly was in bed before it got dark, with Emma and Mum following not long after. Despite being clear that I had no intention of going, Mum still planned for it, got rid of reasons not to, hoping it would be enough to make me reconsider. I was glad of the time to think at least, to have my own company, be away from Emma so I didn’t feel so fucking awful having to smile and lie, whilst mother and son plotted my potential escape.

  I was genuinely lost for words when I saw Lilly’s face on that first billboard and realized what it meant, I’m surprised I kept it together, more surprised Emma didn’t notice, in fact I don’t even think she’d heard of the movie or its cast. Jesus, it was still awkward though, could’ve been a lot worse. Molly didn’t recognise Lilly’s poster thank God, too preoccupied by all the excitement of banners and fans. Mum just gave me a look, a look that said it all, though she knew better than to say anything out loud. Mum asked me on the tube ride home if I had known Lilly would be here, if this trip to London was premeditated, I assured here it wasn’t, which was the God’s honest truth, though I could understand why she’d asked, most coincidences weren’t that believable, this one included.

  It would be easy to go. Leicester Square wasn’t far, a straight line from Euston, just over a mile away, walkable even.

  I looked at my watch again.