by T V Hartwell
While Adam continued to mumble obscenities under his breath, Amanda started to feel faint from her anxiety and got up to walk to the kitchen to grab a drink of water. Although she heard the names of the best picture nominees being called, at that point she was more focused on trying to think of what more she could say to offer encouragement and comfort to her new man. I guess this is the kind of stress one would have to learn to endure as the wife of a big name Hollywood producer, she thought contemplatively while taking sips from her water bottle. And then she jumped, splashing a little water on herself, startled at Adam’s sudden holler and scream.
“I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it,” he said, over and over again.
Amanda quickly turned to face the television, seeing Mr. Henry’s Book Club appear across the screen as a best picture nominee, having missed hearing the actual words being said. “What? Oh my God! Adam!” she screamed and then ran back over into the living room to see the TV screen up close. “Oh my God. That’s so awesome,” she said, her voice breaking. “Oh my God, I think I’m going to cry,” she said waving her free hand to her face as if to cool it down and then pressing her fingers to the inner corners of her eyes to absorb the water that was on the brink of falling from them.
“Well, hot diggity damn. Can you fucking believe it?”
Amanda laughed and cried at the same time as she did a little happy dance. “Oh, Adam, I’m so happy for you. This is so awesome.”
“Well, get that designer dress ready, darlin’, because we’re definitely going to the Golden Globes next month. The invitation’s now officially in the mail.”
“Yaaay! Oh my God, I can’t wait,” Amanda cheerfully yelled as the dread that consumed her just moments before, fearing a complete loss for Adam and his film, was replaced with jubilation. She also felt a sense of pride that Adam had chosen her, of all the people he knew, to share in a moment that clearly meant so much to him.
* * *
Chapter Thirty-Four
By the time Christmas rolled around, Kirby had not seen or spoken to Jake since Jake moved out of the bungalow they’d been sharing more than two months before. Initially, Kirby did his best to move on with his life, believing that he and Jake had simply hit a rough patch in their long relationship and would eventually reconcile. After all, they’d had arguments and disagreements in the past that led to a cooling off period where they didn’t see or speak to one another for a short time. However, those were usually over more petty things like when Jake decided to spend spring break during his sophomore year with his Stanford fraternity brothers instead of with Kirby and their mutual friends from prep school. It had gotten ugly, with jealousies and questions of loyalty being raised. Nevertheless, they eventually got over it, accepting the fact that being at different colleges would result in new friendships, but that their bond as best friends for life was unbreakable. But this time around, as the cooling off period progressed from weeks to months, Kirby became unsettled.
Jake hadn’t responded to the text Kirby sent him on Thanksgiving and their mutual friends were becoming more uncomfortable with their conflict; feeling caught in the middle and pressured to choose a side even though they weren’t privy to the nature of the conflict. In an attempt to mend fences yet again, Kirby sent Jake another text on the morning of Christmas Eve. However, by the time Kirby arrived to his parents’ house for brunch later that afternoon, he still hadn’t heard back from Jake, dampening his holiday cheer. It was as if a lightbulb went off in his head, and he finally realized that his relationship with Jake was more damaged than he’d been willing to acknowledge to himself. The pain of dealing with the brokenness of a relationship he cherished the most combined with the pressure of maintaining his front as a straight man—especially to his family, still reeling from his breakup with his girlfriend Laren—began to weigh on Kirby.
As was their tradition on Christmas Eve, Kirby’s parents, Joyce and Charles Kirby Smith, Sr., had a full house of family over for brunch. Their sprawling residence on North Roxbury Drive in Beverly Hills had ample room to accommodate such a gathering that included members of Joyce’s family visiting from Boston as well as members of the Smith family who lived locally in LA. When Kirby arrived, he became the center of attention in ways good, his new TV pilot, and ways not so good, his relationship status, now that he was no longer with his ex-girlfriend.
When Kirby entered the house, the smell of food led him straight to the kitchen where he found his mother. “Hey, Mom, Merry Christmas or should I say Merry Christmas Eve!”
“Hey, baby, Merry Christmas,” Joyce sang with both hands full as she lifted her cheek to receive her son’s kiss. Joyce was busying herself with the food preparations along with her sister Maybelline, another sister Cheryl, visiting from Boston with her husband, and two staff persons from the caterer. Joyce liked to blend some family favorites she and others would make along with fare prepared by the catering chef they often hired when hosting parties and large family gatherings.
Kirby then greeted his aunts and accepted a round of hugs. “Can I help you guys with anything?” Kirby asked, seeing that they all were about to carry food outdoors in back where they had three lawn tables and chairs set up for thirty people.
“No, we’re fine,” Joyce said. “Go in there and mingle. Everybody’s been asking for you. They want to hear about the show.”
“We’re so proud of you,” Aunt Maybelline said.
“When will the show air?” Aunt Cheryl asked.
“Oh, not until next fall. We haven’t shot anything yet. Don’t even have a cast.”
“Oh,” Aunt Cheryl said with a puzzled expression.
Kirby attempted to explain, but Joyce beat him to the punch. “He just signed his deal, Cheryl. Now they have to cast the parts. You know . . . for the different roles and such. That takes time. They can’t film anything without having a cast in place, and then they’ll need to hire a production crew and find a location to shoot—”
“My . . . Mom, you seem to know a lot about shooting TV pilots,” Kirby said with a chuckle.
Maybelline and Cheryl both chuckled too. “It sounds like Mom’s planning to co-produce the show with you, nephew,” Maybelline teased.
Kirby raised his eyebrows in alarmed expression before saying, “That would be interesting. Actually . . . no it wouldn’t. It would be scary.”
“You don’t want me to be your co-producer?” Joyce asked playfully. “I would be good at it. I want to handle the casting, especially the part of the single black mother who chases after the widowed Jewish man. I personally know some sistas who go for the type.”
“You do?” Cheryl asked curiously.
“Girl, please. Of course. This is LA. A lot of Jewish men out here are attracted to black women and vice versa. Like your sister over here,” Joyce said eyeing the perennially single Maybelline up and down.
Maybelline snickered and eyed her sister back in mock annoyance as Cheryl let out a shrill that morphed into hysterical laughter.
“I’m down for a good man, PERIOD,” Maybelline finally said in her own defense as the three ladies made their way outdoors with food in hand, chattering loudly amongst themselves.
Kirby just shook his head and chuckled to himself in amusement as the women stepped out of sight, their voices trailing off. Then he pulled up his phone to look at it, seeing that there still was no word from Jake.
Kirby eventually forced himself from his phone and his thoughts of Jake to join his grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins who were mostly assembled in the family room and the outdoor patio that it opened out to with a view of the yard, swimming pool, and tennis court at the very back of the property. Nat King Cole’s Christmas album played in the background but its smooth melodies were drowned out by sounds of laughter and animated conversation. A streak of anxiety went through Kirby when he walked into the room and almost everyone turned and noticed him. He felt as though he was about to go on stage for a live show to perform a part that had been written for him, but did
n’t entirely reflect who he truly was. Kirby’s imposing presence and striking good looks combined with his charisma and ambition made him a star attraction in his family just as he was among his friends. Although he wasn’t in a particularly social mood, Kirby knew that everyone would want to chat and have time with him. So he sucked it up and tried to put on his best face.
“Hey, cousin, what’s up, man?” “There’s our big shot Hollywood producer,” “Hi, Kirbeee,” different people said as he stepped into the room, hugging and glad-handing with his relatives.
Ribbing his nephew seemed to be a newfound sport for Kirby’s uncle Milt. At Joyce’s birthday party a few months back, Milt had embarrassed Kirby at the dinner table, chastising him in front of his then girlfriend, Laren, for dating her for so long without proposing marriage. Things had been chilly between them ever since. However, Milt remained undeterred and didn’t miss the opportunity to chide his nephew whenever he found an opening. “We thought you had skipped town. The party started over an hour ago. He always shows up just before the food is served,” Milt said looking over at Charles, Kirby’s dad, before looking back at Kirby. “Why are you so late, son?”
I’m not your son, Kirby nearly said before deciding to ignore him, turning to greet his paternal grandparents. However, Myla, one of Kirby’s cousins, provided a response to the question.
“He does that to avoid talking to us, especially to you, Dad,” Myla said half joking and half serious in tone.
Having overhead her, Kirby made a point to correct her a couple minutes later. “I’m not trying to avoid you, Myla. You know better than that,” Kirby turned to her and said as he reached to hug his favorite cousin. Myla, the daughter of Milt and Loretta, one of the sisters of Kirby’s dad, was the same age as Kirby and the two had shared a close bond since childhood. Myla was like the sibling Kirby never had, being that he was an only child. After graduating from the all-women’s Mills College in Oakland, Myla remained in the Bay area living in Berkeley where she worked as a social services counselor, having an eye set on eventually pursuing a Ph.D. in psychology.
Myla smiled broadly as she hugged Kirby back affectionately. “Hey, cousin, how are you?”
“Ehh, I’m all right. When’d you make it to town?” Kirby quickly asked, attempting to change the subject and direct attention away from himself and his somber feelings.
“I drove down with a girlfriend yesterday. She’s from LA too so we decided to carpool down here together, and we’ll carpool back Sunday night. I have to be back at work on Monday.”
“Bummer. We should go grab drinks or something before you head back.”
“I’d love to, but is everything okay? You seem a little down.”
Before Kirby could answer her, Joyce and her sisters called everyone outside for brunch and then commotion ensued.
“We’ll talk later,” Kirby finally said to her before another cousin pulled him away.
After everyone went through the buffet line, Kirby waited to take his seat until after Uncle Milt took his first. There were three tables set up for ten people each and Kirby wanted to be sure not to sit at the same table as his nagging uncle. However, unfortunately, that did not guarantee the avoidance of unpleasant table conversation.
“Hey, Kirby,” Charles said to his son with a look of puzzlement on his face. “I forgot to mention that I ran into Tom Doyle at a chamber of commerce board meeting last week and he told me that Jake had found his own place.”
“Yeah, he did.”
“Jake moved out?” Joyce chimed in.
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I thought I did,” Kirby lied.
“Isn’t he married now?” Aunt Maybelline asked, knowing that Kirby and Jake had been best friends since they were teenagers.
“No,” Joyce and Charles both said at the same time. “I didn’t tell you? The wedding was cancelled. Jake called the whole thing off. He and his fiancée aren’t even together anymore,” Joyce continued to say.
“Really?” Maybelline said, surprised.
“And I was looking so forward to attending that wedding too,” Joyce said. “It was supposed to be a big wedding and I mean big with a capital B. Jake’s fiancée’s family or I guess I should say ex fiancée now, are very wealthy people. They’re billionaires and descendants of Spanish royalty or something like that. But anyway, they had spent a fortune on that wedding. There was talk of it in the papers, and I heard they’d paid Beyoncé one million to perform at it.”
“What?” Maybelline said, mouth agape, eyes wide.
“My goodness. Did they get their money back since the wedding was cancelled?” Cheryl asked.
“Good question. I don’t know,” Joyce said.
“Why did they break up, Kirby?” Maybelline asked.
“Jake wasn’t as ready for marriage as he thought . . . I guess,” Kirby said nonchalantly, keeping his word to Jake and not revealing that Rick Climent had offered Jake millions to break things off with his daughter.
“That’s interesting,” Maybelline said contemplatively.
“When did he move out?” Charles asked, returning to the original topic.
“In October.”
“In October?” Joyce said, incredulous. “Did you get another housemate?”
“No.”
Charles looked at his son and wanted to question him further. After all, he was still covering Kirby’s living expenses. However, he decided that now wasn’t the time or place to delve into personal finance matters at a table with guests.
“It’s just as well that Jake moved out. I love him to death but I think you two are a bad influence on one another,” Joyce said.
“Why?” Maybelline asked.
“Kirby goes and breaks up with Laren for no good reason—”
“She broke up with me,” Kirby reminded his mother, but Joyce didn’t seem to hear him as she continued to talk.
“. . . and then Jake goes and does the same thing. You’re like two peas in a pod. Still acting like playboys, going around and breaking these girls’ hearts.”
“Can we change the subject, please?” Kirby asked, growing uncomfortable with direction of the conversation.
“No! I am still upset with you for letting Laren go. She was perfect for you.”
“Mom, no she wasn’t. We had issues that you don’t know anything about.”
“I think you are the one with issues.”
“Kirby, what went down between you two?” Maybelline jumped in. “Seriously, I want to know. I just love Laren,” she said with a sigh. “I thought you two were happy together.”
Kirby kept eating hurriedly, wanting to finish his food and extricate himself from the scene.
Knowing that Kirby had been through a similar line of questioning at Thanksgiving, Charles tried to come to his son’s rescue. “Would you two leave him alone and let him eat? Besides, you’ve been asking him these same questions for the last three to four months now. Give it a rest.”
“That’s because we’re not satisfied with his answers,” Maybelline said.
“Or lack thereof,” Joyce added and continued conspiratorially. “He doesn’t know it, but Maybelline and I and a couple of my friends have initiated an undercover operation. We call it Operation Reunite,” she said to laughter around the table.
Kirby snickered as he popped his head up and glared over at his mother. “Mom, we’re not getting back together. . . .”
But Joyce continued over him. “Don’t you worry, honey. Mom’s going to help you out. I’ve already spoken to Laren a couple of times and she’s—”
“What? Mom . . . I don’t need any help, and why are you calling her?” Kirby asked in agitation.
“We’re friends,” Joyce said with an air of propriety. “We can still talk and be friends, can’t we?”
“You’re wasting your time, Mom. And she has a new boyfriend. I already told you.”
“She hasn’t mentioned a new boyfriend to me. Maybe
she was just telling you that to make you jealous and to get your attention. Sometimes women want to be chased when you screw up and don’t treat them right. You should beg her for forgiveness for whatever you did, Kirby, and try to win her back. I think she would be receptive and might be willing to marry you still if you made an effort.”
Kirby sighed with frustration and shook his head, becoming impatient with this intrusion into his private life. Although he knew his mother loved him dearly, Kirby couldn’t help but feel betrayed by her meddling, and he was completely taken aback that Joyce had been in touch with his ex. “She’ll be waiting for a very long time because I am not getting married to any woman,” he said emphatically before standing up to excuse himself from the table. His mother and two aunts had perplexed looks on their faces while everyone else at the table just sat and watched the exchange in an uncomfortable silence.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joyce said as Kirby ignored her and continued to walk briskly toward the house.
***
Kirby immediately went upstairs to his old bedroom and locked himself inside to get away from everyone and to calm himself down. A few minutes later, Myla went to look for him and eventually found him there. After she knocked on the door and identified herself, Kirby decided to let her in.
“Kirby, what’s wrong?” she said after she walked in and closed the door behind her.
At first, Kirby didn’t answer back. He just sighed hard and sat back down on the edge of the bed, his face stressed and body language doleful.
“I saw you get up and leave and you looked really upset. What’s going on? You seem so unhappy right now.”
“We need to talk. I have something to tell you. I’ve got nobody else to turn to,” he said with another heavy sigh.
Kirby hadn’t come out to anyone in his family. Nobody knew of his double life except Jake, Antonio, and a handful of other gay and bisexual men he’d fooled around with. Although he had many friends, Kirby still felt a certain sense of shame about his homosexual tendencies and didn’t feel comfortable confiding in anyone about his sexuality and the struggles associated with it. Jake was his one true confidant, and the loss of the relationship with his best friend and lover made him feel a sense of desperation. If he didn’t open up and talk to someone about his feelings and what he’d been going through, Kirby thought he’d go crazy from dealing with all of the stress, pain, and anxiety alone.