“Not on location,” said Karin. “We’re both going to stay in town for now.”
Oscar went in to check on the kids. He wasn’t comfortable when conversations went that direction.
“Sherry said men can be too nice,” I said. “Like stupid nice, instead of nice nice.”
“Jon hiring Celeste is definitely stupid nice. What am I missing here? Why don’t you just tell him no?”
“We’ve never done that. I want him not to hire her on his own.”
“Then you could end up with her as a new partner.”
“I’ll leave. I’m not going to be a sister wife.”
“So you’ll give up your ground to her? Be a single mother? Lose a husband who sends you flowers and poems? He’s not going to get back together with Celeste. After a big mess, he’s going to end up with someone else entirely. She’s going to play mommy to your kids. She’ll tell him to fire Celeste, talk trash about you, and feed your kids McDonalds when they visit.”
“Jon would never allow McDonalds.”
“Don’t be so sure. Who saw this coming? I don’t know that I consider it even stupid nice.”
“Is that how you thought about it with Oscar?”
“There wasn’t anything nice about what Oscar did. Just stupid. And yes, I thought about it. I didn’t want that skanky ho around my kids. Aren’t you? Because if you’re not, you need to slow down.”
“It’s Jon’s decision. He’s a grown up.”
“I’m going to say something, Hannah. I don’t want you to take it as criticism of Jon. We love Jon. But sometimes you act like he’s smarter than you are just because he’s ten years older and has already raised a kid. He’s not. He’s not a god. He’s got his stuff. You’re losing yourself here.”
Oscar brought a clean but squawking Chance outside.
“He’s hungry, Mama,” he said. “I can’t have him doing that to my daughter.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “He takes after his father. Hand him over, I’ll stick a jug in him. Jon calls them jugs now.”
“And you’re afraid to tell him no?”
“Yeah, you got the jugs,” said Oscar.
“You better be talking to me, Oscar,” said Karin.
“Oh I am,” he said. “I am.”
He went back inside, calling bath time to Meggie. He enjoyed having babies in the house again. Meggie hopped down the hall with him. Karin looked down at her breasts.
“You going to have more kids?” I asked.
“Bite your tongue. I’m getting implants.”
“You are not.”
“Yes I am. I deflated after those kids. Not Dolly Parton. Just perky Cs. Maybe Ds. You know how L.A. works.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Wait until you move back before you start casting stones.”
“You up for Venice on Saturday?” I asked. “I want to get a henna tattoo.”
“Why don’t you get a real one? Jon hates tattoos. We can have brunch at The Lobster first.”
We all turned in and I called Jon. The background noise wasn’t familiar.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Airport.”
We listened to each other breathe. He hated private phone calls in public places so it was like talking to a text message.
“You coming home?” he asked.
“Sunday. I changed our flight today. I had to pay extra, I’m sorry. It was the only way I could get a direct flight. Everything else had two-stops on such short notice, it would take forever with the kids. They won’t charge for the extra box with Mom’s loot. I booked the shuttle.”
“I’ll cancel the shuttle. What flight?”
“Two sixty-five. In time to take Chance in the ocean for the first time.”
He was so quiet I thought we’d lost our connection. Unlike good old Steve, Jon was never quiet just to be a controlling asshole.
“Jon?”
Nothing. I could hear flight announcements. He blew his nose. He got hit hard when the ash from Kilauea drifted our way. He cleared his throat and said, “Hey, man. How’s it going?” I must have been riding around in his pocket with half a connection. I hung up and called back but it went to voicemail.
“Hi Jon, it’s Hannah,” I said. “We must have lost our connection. I’m going to bed now. Have safe travels.”
I turned it off and went to bed.
The night turned strange. Chance was uncharacteristically fussy. He cried. He wouldn’t be comforted. He didn’t want to nurse, he didn’t want to bounce or sway or have his back rubbed. I went to the farthest corner of the house so he wouldn’t wake up everybody. Oscar came out in a robe; a gray beard shadow had started on his blue-black skin.
“He just won’t settle down,” I said. “He’s been crying since midnight. He’s never like this.”
We took turns walking him. He cried with brief periods of calm that he used to gather strength for the next round of crying. After two hours, I started crying. Oscar ended up with Chance in one arm, his other around my shoulder, walking in circles in the den. I bawled myself out. Chance finally ran out of energy at hour three and dropped off to sleep. I was under him on the couch, afraid to move. He shuddered, like he might wake up and start all over. Oscar covered us with a blanket.
“Will you sleep with Meggie?” I whispered. “If she wakes up alone, she’ll freak out and wake up the whole house.”
I stared at the ceiling and worried. Did Chance know something I didn’t? I hadn’t been able to say good-bye to Jon. My father got in a plane and I hadn’t said good-bye. I hadn’t had a premonition about Jon like I had my father, but maybe his son was having one. He twitched in his sleep. Hot and cold anxiety surged in waves under my skin. My heart pounded; my gut was lined with ice.
I thought about the airliner when the tail fell off. One bad screw and everyone died. The skin peeled off a plane on a local flight. A flight attendant had gone out. I imagined her in a slim skirt and low pumps; arms reached back, eyes locked on the safe place where she’d just been serving coffee. She must have known it was over, that she was being left behind as everyone in the plane flew on in their lives.
Did she try to hold on to the gash in the metal skin as the sky tugged at her? Did she scream over the noise? I hoped she’d spent her last night giving her love to someone who loved her back, not just some pilot screwing his way around the planet. I hoped she’d hugged her children good-bye. Did they find her?
They found my father. That had helped. I didn’t know what he’d been thinking at the end, or even if he was conscious. If he’d seen his lover the night before. Maybe he cried, or swore. Or maybe he just watched the afterglow on the snow that was all around him.
Did he feel left behind on the mountain knowing his family was at home? We had all felt left behind by him. It’s an odd thing. Death. It feels like the great divide, but both sides feel left behind. And still together. Life slides both directions. Memories live until the last man standing. Margaret was peaceful about dying, unlike my aunt who was furious. She resented her family for going on without her. She hated cancer. She said it would be better not to know, to die quickly in a plane crash like her brother. We didn’t know if he had died quickly. All we knew was that it was cold. It could have felt like an eternity to him. I wanted death to surprise me, not whisper over my bed like it did my grandmother. Not time to think like going down in a plane.
Planes crash to earth. They slam into mountains. They drop in the water and sink to places so deep they might as well be in outer space. Sometimes they don’t find the black box. What difference did it make? It was just another story that found its way into books for pilots to read. Like ghost stories. My father read them to us on camping trips. While he analyzed pilot decisions, I thought about the terrified people in the back who had time to review their life decisions because they weren’t consumed with the now of keeping air under the wings. I thought about their families huddled in airport chapels, faces stretched in silent screams of grief, while insurance men in s
uits spoke a risk management language they couldn’t comprehend.
Now that I had children, I could see that my father’s parenting could have used some work, but he was a pilot. They’re people who plan with a compass and a chart. They read the stories with whoa bravado because it would never happen to them. Or, they read them to slap away any small snakes of fear that may be slithering in the back of their brains. Back where they know we have no business being up there, we don’t have wings.
Unless a Saber Tooth Tiger is chasing us, fear doesn’t help, it just attracts confusion and mishap. You can write the rules in blood, but something you never imagined comes while you’re worrying about what’s never going to come. We’re all pilots who make mistakes. Brief but fatal switches to a new concept of reality. They call it human error. We can’t begin to make rules for how many ways a human mind can err. Where was Jon?
I sneaked out from under Chance and tiptoed into the bedroom. Oscar was flat on his back, sound asleep, being choked by Meggie. He’d slid his fingers under hers to give his windpipe room to move. Her small white fingers were wrapped around his dark skin. He was so patient. I was glad he was getting rest. He was supposed to get dragged under a bus in the morning, but the Director could decide to have him jump off a motorcycle then get dragged. Or, maybe get dragged motorcycle and all. Timing, and nerves in harness, are what kept him safe and working.
I grabbed my phone. Mr. Fretful was still asleep on the couch, his breathing stuttered. The screen light was blinding when I turned it on and made him squint. I called Jon. It rang once.
“Yes,” he said.
I knew that voice. He was ready to move like a caveman sensing a threat. I started sobbing. I cried and cried. And cried.
“Is this hi Jon, it’s Hannah?” he asked.
I could hear his smile.
“I thought your plane had crashed. Chance wouldn’t stop crying. He was inconsolable. I thought he knew.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s asleep next to me. I don’t know what it was, probably rhubarb. Oscar is sleeping with Meggie. You didn’t say good-bye. You need to say good-bye.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t sign off. I lost my voice.”
“The vog get you?”
“You said you were bringing Chance home to swim.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“I’m not going to say good-bye. I told you that in the beginning. You should sleep while you can. Give Marty my best.”
“You’re stubborn, Jon.”
“If you say so.”
We hung up. He had cried when I said we were coming home.
∞
The next morning everyone headed off to work and school. Amy came over an hour early to give me time to get dressed like a grown up. I doubled up on nursing pads and draped a scarf artfully across my silk tank top à la India. Meggie watched me get dressed. I felt almost like a princess. I put on make-up, and dried my hair like I meant it.
“You look great,” said Amy.
“Thanks. This is the first time I’ve put it all together since Chance was born.”
∞
She dropped me off at the restaurant. Marty stood and waved me over to the table. He looked classic Hollywood agent in huge square black-framed glasses. Ever the gentleman, he kissed both cheeks and stood until I was seated.
“You look marvelous,” he said.
“Thank you. Love those glasses. Very Lew Wasserman,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use the word marvelous.”
“I’m rebooting. How about you? Ready to work?”
“I’m thinking about it. Thought I’d see you while I’m here, get news. Ideally something starting in a few months.”
“How few months?”
“Six, something like that.”
“I have something coming. Means location though, six to eight months with the piranhas. Then back here for another six or so. They’re just firming up the schedule. I know your husband. I don’t want to die. I just sunk six hundred bucks into these glasses.”
“He’s not going to hurt you. He’s changing light bulbs to save money.”
We ordered lunch.
“Can he handle taking care of the kids while you’re gone?” he asked.
“I plan to take them with me.”
“How old is that baby? I could swear I just sent a gift.”
“You didn’t send a gift, your assistant did, and it was lovely. We sent a thank you note. Seven weeks.”
“Too young for this shoot. It’s some African Queen thing except on the Amazon with an environmentalist chick going to bat for the natives. Or rainforest. Or both.”
“I thought you were calling the Director a piranha. Who’s starring?”
“One of the blonde boys, not one of mine. The actress just dropped out. They’re looking for someone who looks haughty but is still hot, and who’s willing to get malaria.”
“She could wear your glasses,” I said.
He looked thoughtful.
“Not me,” I said.
“No, you’re too old and you can’t act. I’m sending one of my girls in for it. I’m going to get her some glasses. Good idea.”
“Thanks, Marty. You still call them girls? You still refer to us as your stable?”
“No. I dropped stable. Girls is retro. I can only change so much.”
“You watch too much Mad Men. Is there anything else coming that looks good?”
“There’s buzz around Hawaii right now. Pirates, dinosaurs, big tits in bikinis. Everyone wants the Hawaii second home write off. Hawaii is pitching hard. Tax breaks, grow coffee white man. Even I’m getting brochures. Nothing firm yet.”
“Hawaii would be perfect. Did Jon tell you to push Hawaii?”
“He doesn’t need to,” he said. “He looked at me once.”
“You’re such a wimp, Marty. He’s 5’6”.”
“Yeah. So. The short guys scare me. They’re like Jack Russells. Go for the Achilles.”
“I know you love me, Marty. Only want the best. But your Achilles is money and you’re good at protecting it.”
“True. Why the rush to work?”
“Jon plans to hire his ex-wife to run one of his biggest restaurants. I need my own money.”
“Ah. Can you hold on a few months?”
“Any television work? I could take some short projects in the meantime. I’ll even do more commercials.”
“A movie would be a better move. People still talk about your pyro-girl thing. That’s some serious legs. If you keep stepping down, it’s going to be hard to step up.”
“I know. Margaret wouldn’t like it. She said movies or nothing, but there’s some great television now. I’m sure she’s happy about Ed though; he has someone new.”
“We had dinner with them a few weeks ago. Nancy Campbell. Nice lady. Not Margaret.”
“They’re coming for a visit next month. Play some golf.”
“I know it’s going to be tough. It was strange for us to see him with someone else, and we see a lot of new partners coming through. Ed seemed to like her. How about you? You happy?”
“I was until this ex-wife thing came along.”
A few producers, aka The Suits, stopped by. Introductions were made all around. One seemed especially engaged. It felt good after Marty’s too old comment. Maybe my career was still alive. They drifted to their table.
“You going to try out for a wet tee shirt contest?” asked Marty.
“Is that the new way to save a marriage? I never got around to pole dancing.”
“I’m looking at your tits.”
I looked down. I’d had a double nursing pad fail. My artfully draped scarf looked like I’d intentionally wrapped my breasts in wet tissue paper. It was pretty, but definitely not the look I was going for. I peeled the scarf free and leaned forward a little so it didn’t replaster.
“Fuck,” I said.
People glanced our way to see me leaning toward Marty and offering desser
t. He called for the check while I did a mental face plant over the realization that the producer hadn’t been interested in my alluring face and sparkling wit.
“Always have enjoyed your language,” said Marty. “You want my jacket?”
“No, I don’t want your jacket. It’s a hundred and ten outside. I’d look like I’m on my way to rehab. This just looks like I’m trying too hard. I can hold my head up until I get out the door. I’ll call Amy, she can meet me in front.”
“Maybe you should go for some extras work. Tits in the jungle.”
“I doubt Lew ever called them tits to anyone’s face, Marty. Anyway, they’re not tits, they’re jugs.”
“Jon?”
“Yeah.”
“And he still has a heart beat? Guy has some huevos.”
“He also has an ex-wife with a sexy name. Celeste.”
“Ouch. Okay. We’ll figure something out.”
Amy pulled up in front. I could hear Chance squawking even with the windows up. Marty kept his distance from a dry cleaning bill as we hugged good-bye. He said hello to Amy and the kids as I slid in the front seat.
“So how’d it go?” asked Amy.
“It didn’t yet. They’re gearing up for an Amazon shoot.”
“Women or river?”
“River. Be a great adventure if you don’t mind catching malaria.”
“Sounds fun.”
“I’ll put in a word,” I said.
“I’ll call Claire.”
∞
The rest of the week was spent being social, eating all over town, and wishing I were home. On Saturday, Karin and I went to Venice Beach for my tattoo. There are great sun designs, but no decent full moons. Ironically, the artist pulled it off by laying down clouds behind a moon. She drew it on my ass hip and put a flourishy M in the middle. I missed Jon, but the mood I was in, it would probably be gone before he ever saw it. If not, I’d tell him it was for Mike. Meggie wanted one too. She got a cheerful crescent moon on her ankle. She was very careful with it. I stripped off Chance’s diaper and the artist planted a tiny crescent on his pristine little ass. The maiden voyage of our clan brand.
We stayed at the beach and ate junk food so I could roll my shorts down while it dried. Chance enjoyed riding ass out to the world. He peed on me, but at least it was in front and didn’t wash off the henna. Having children who pee and spill milk on you drives the gratitude baseline lower each day. I called Chana.
Mary Ellen Courtney - Hannah Spring 02 - Spring Moon Page 11