The Book of Someday

by Dianne Dixon

  “Miss Lesser!” Jillian is startled, overcome with emotion. “You’ve never said ‘please’ to me before.”

  It takes Jillian a moment to pull herself together. Then she says: “There’s someone here to see you.”

  Pain medication has Micah in a haze and she’s confused by this other voice, not Jillian’s, telling her: “Rebecca Wang sent me.”

  The mention of Rebecca Wang’s name is carrying Micah back to that summer with AnnaLee. The image in Micah’s mind is the image of a grave—and a length of copper wire being formed into the shape of a cross.

  In the split second that it takes Micah to pull her thoughts away from the cross and the grave, Jillian is stepping aside. And a stranger—a quietly pretty young woman with luminous brown eyes and a cap of golden curls—is coming closer.

  She seems tense, painfully nervous, as she’s telling Micah: “My name is Livvi Gray and I need your help with this.” She’s holding out a cell phone.

  There’s a picture on the phone’s screen but Micah isn’t looking at it. She’s staring at the young woman; trying to remember where she has seen her before.

  The young woman is pointing to the cell phone—her voice trembling with emotion. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve had nightmares about the person in this painting. Her name is Miriam Moran. She lived in the Hamptons and the painting was done in 1922. I have to know how I could’ve grown up in California dreaming about somebody who lived on the opposite side of the country, and existed almost a century before I was born.”

  She holds the phone out to Micah, pleading: “Help me. Please. Rebecca Wang said you could tell me what this means.”

  When Micah looks at the phone, she sees that the photograph on the screen is of a portrait, in a store window. Micah recognizes it immediately. It’s a painting that was in AnnaLee’s house—the portrait that inspired AnnaLee’s costume, the one she wore to Mrs. Jahn’s gala.

  And now Micah understands why the young woman’s luminous eyes and golden curls were so instantly recognizable.

  Micah is dizzy with guilt. And surprise. She can’t take her eyes off that sweet face and those golden curls.

  And with both trepidation and remembered fondness, Micah says: “Bella…?”

  The young woman appears to be mystified—gives no response.

  “Bella. That was your nickname when you were a baby,” Micah tells her. “When you were born, your mother thought you looked like a fairy princess. They started out calling you Tinkerbelle, then Belle, then Bella.”

  “You’re mistaken. I don’t know you, we’ve never met.” The young woman takes a cautious step backward, away from Micah—but continues to hold the phone so that Micah can see the screen. “Please, all I need is for you to tell me what you know about this painting. And then I’ll go.”

  “No, don’t go.” Micah is leaning forward, reaching for the young woman, wanting her to understand. “You and I do know each other. Your father and mine are half-brothers, Bella. And one summer, when I was a teenager I lived in your house. In Glen Cove. On Long Island.”

  The young woman is glancing at the array of medications on the little table beside Micah’s chair. “My name is Livvi. You have me confused with someone else.”

  “No,” Micah insists. “You and I spent that summer together. When you were little. When you were Bella…”

  Micah’s voice has trailed away and, for an instant, she is in a late August afternoon…sitting beside AnnaLee in the garden swing. With her head bent low over the piece of copper wire that she’s shaping and reshaping. And Bella, a toddler with a rag doll, is hovering at Micah’s knee, fascinated.

  Micah’s voice is blurring with tears as she’s trying to explain the past to this beautiful golden-haired girl. “It was the most wonderful summer of my life. Your mother let me be who I wanted to be…she let me be Persephone…and to her I was somebody special. She showed me I had talent, and loved me in a way I’d never been loved before.”

  Now Micah’s visitor is glancing at Jillian: asking an unspoken question—is Micah insane?

  “I’m not crazy. I know you,” Micah says. “Your given name is Olivia. Your middle name is Lee. Your mother’s name was AnnaLee. Your father’s name is Jack. And your parents were devoted to you.”

  Micah is watching, helplessly. As this girl, Livvi, is going deathly pale. And falling. Like she has been body-slammed by a ghost.

  Jillian is intercepting Livvi’s fall—helping her into a chair.

  While Livvi is murmuring: “How can it be possible…?”

  And Micah is realizing this is the moment of truth.

  The moment she was searching for. And couldn’t find—in Kansas. Or the Laundromat in Louisville. Or her mother’s house in Newport.

  Which is why Micah is slowly opening the collar of her silk robe. Exposing the flesh just above her breast and just below her shoulder. Revealing the ghoulish snake tattoo—directing Livvi’s attention to it. And telling her: “It’s a picture of who I was at the beginning of that summer.”

  This is the moment in which Micah will discover if she has any hope of absolution. Livvi—Bella—is the person who holds the greatest debt on Micah’s sin. She’s the one who has the right to decide what should become of Micah.

  As she begins to tell her story, to describe the events that led to the disaster, Micah is laying it out so that Livvi can see everything clearly. Everything that happened in those few, unforgettable weeks. When Micah was Persephone.

  …In the first week of the summer, Persephone has purple hair and is exploding with anger. Saying to AnnaLee, “That stuff you were telling your kid—that stuff about how much you love her. It made me hate you. And her.”

  …In midsummer, Persephone is on Main Street in Oyster Bay. In the company of Hayden Truitt. Hungry for her approval. Plotting a crime. Then telling AnnaLee, “It’s nothing. I’m just helping Tru think up an idea for a horror movie.”

  …At the end of August, Persephone is in AnnaLee’s kitchen. And she fiercely loves AnnaLee. She’s rushing to make a phone call. She’s wearing a Ziegfeld costume the same coral color as the lilies in AnnaLee’s garden. Persephone is working at keeping her voice low so AnnaLee won’t hear. While she’s whispering about the crime, and about AnnaLee. She’s nervously leaving a message. Saying, “Forget the plan we decided on. When I told you I’d do it, I was still making up my mind. Things are different now…”

  “But it was too late,” Micah is explaining. “The plan was already in motion.” Micah gazes down at her snake tattoo—momentarily lost in thought. Then she says: “Hayden and her boyfriend Marco were always needing money. For drugs.”

  Micah’s visitor, Livvi, seems utterly confounded. “But how do those people have any connection to me?”

  “You’ll understand. Just let me finish.” Micah tells her. “That day when I said I was thinking up an idea for a horror movie, what I was really doing was letting Hayden know about your parents going to Mrs. Jahn’s party. I promised Hayden I’d leave the back door unlocked so she and Marco could come in and rob the place—”

  “But I still don’t see why you’re telling me all of this.” Livvi is leaning forward. Her eyes full of apprehension. “What you’re saying doesn’t—”

  “Wait, just listen. I need to tell you everything exactly the way it took place; otherwise, it won’t make any sense.” Micah is plunging ahead, not wanting Livvi to stop her. “At first I hated AnnaLee, but by the time the party happened, everything was different. I loved her. It wasn’t until I was walking out the door, with my new friend Rebecca, that the plan I’d made with Hayden came back into my head. I called Hayden a dozen times but she never answered. I kept leaving messages. Hayden and Marco…and the guy who was with them…all of them were high when they got to your parents’ house. They were angry about the back door not being unlocked. They had a gun. And—”

  “And what?” The mention of a gun has brought Livvi to the edge of her chair.

  “They shot your mot
her. They murdered her. She was still in her costume from the party, the costume I copied from the portrait—the silver dress and the pearl-button shoes.”

  Livvi sways. Ever so slightly. As if she’s about to faint.

  Micah feels dirty. Coated with shame. As she tells Livvi: “I killed your mother…I killed AnnaLee. She died because of what I did.”

  Micah’s throat is tightening and closing—while she waits for Livvi’s wrath.

  But Livvi seems completely unaware of Micah. Doesn’t appear to even realize she’s in the room. To Micah it looks as if Livvi has lost contact with reality. As if she’s mentally traveling into some strangely distant world.

  A minute clicks by. Then another. And another.

  As each moment is passing, the sense of dread in Micah is building. Showing her she won’t be able to survive the fury that Livvi is preparing to unleash.

  Micah is at her breaking point. “Don’t you have anything you want to say to me?” she asks.

  The lost look in Livvi’s eyes is slowly beginning to clear—it’s being replaced by an odd combination of injury and elation.

  “My mother died?” Livvi says.

  “Yes,” Micah tells her.

  “My mother didn’t run away? She died?”

  Micah is thunderstruck. “How could you think your mother ran away?”

  “It’s what I’ve always been told…she was a party girl who wanted to have a good time.”

  “It’s a lie. Who told you that?” Micah is annoyed—instinctively wanting to defend AnnaLee.

  “My father told me…” Livvi says, “…and my stepmother.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Your father was devoted to AnnaLee. The night she was killed, he almost died trying to save her. He came to the funeral with a broken shoulder and his hands in bandages. Your father is one of the sweetest, kindest men I ever met.”

  And Livvi tells Micah: “Now you’re the one being ridiculous. My father was an uncaring monster.”

  This bizarre statement leaves Micah’s head spinning. It makes no sense.

  Livvi has gotten up from her chair. And is pacing the room. Rapidly. Erratically. As if she’s sorting through a frantic tangle of thoughts and emotions.

  Then she stops and turns to look at Micah. “I don’t understand. How did my father get to Santa Ynez? When did he leave Long Island?”

  Micah tries to remember. “I’m not sure. I guess it was a couple of months after AnnaLee died. At some point the two of you just disappeared. My father tried searching for you, for years. But nobody could find you. Nobody knew where you went.”

  Livvi is leaning against the wall. Bent forward, her hands clamped against her breastbone—like she’s in terrible pain. “All the things you’ve said…this story you’ve told me…is it really the truth?”

  Micah—hating that there’s no comfort she can offer Livvi—simply nods.

  Livvi sounds as if she still can’t quite believe what she has just heard. “And that’s all you know? About my parents? About me?”

  “Yes,” Micah says. “I was only there for those few weeks, that one summer, but—”

  There’s a feeling in Micah. Like being caught in a vise. It’s crushing her. Squeezing the life out of her. As she adds: “—but there’s something else I need to tell you.”

  Livvi’s tone is quiet, fearful. “What more could there possibly be?”

  A chill is building in Micah.

  And she’s saying: “In payment for your mother’s murder, Hayden and Marco, and Marco’s friend, went to jail. For a long time. I went to Harvard. Then I went on with my life.” Crippling shivers are running through her as she tells Livvi: “Now I need to pay for that. The universe has already handed me the bill, I just don’t know how big the payment should be. You need to help me decide.”

  “What exactly are you asking…?”

  Livvi glances from Micah to the little table containing the medications—then she looks up at Jillian.

  Jillian appears to have tears in her eyes. She mouths the word cancer.

  “My breasts were removed last week,” Micah explains. “Treatment is set to begin the day after tomorrow—a clinical trial. It’s a long shot, but I need to know if I have the right to take it.”

  Livvi is continuing to lean against the wall, for support. As she says: “And you want me to decide?”

  “I took your mother’s life. You’re entitled to ask for mine in return.”

  Livvi slowly pushes away from the wall and begins to pace again. Wandering. Distracted. Circling the room.

  While Micah is waiting. Waiting—and terrified.

  After a while, Livvi comes to a stop in the center of the room. Her gaze moving from the white plastered walls—to the spotless floors—and then to the polished, mostly empty, tables and shelves.

  She appears to be searching for something. When she can’t seem to find it, she asks Micah: “Are you married?”

  Micah gives a negative shake of her head.

  “A family? Children?” Livvi asks.

  It is as if Livvi is stripping Micah’s soul and laying it bare. Micah is aching with regret as she says: “I thought I would have all of that. Someday. But…”

  “Are you in love?”

  “I was. Once. A long time ago.” The sense of loss is almost intolerable. “I loved a man that I left, and thought I was coming back for.”

  “Miss Lesser is a legend,” Jillian tells Livvi. “Why don’t you ask her about her career?”

  “I don’t want to talk about my career,” Micah snaps.

  Then she looks at Livvi. Micah is riddled with guilt as she tells her: “I bought my career by stealing pieces of other people’s lives—starting with that picture I took of your mother.”

  Micah’s body is wet with a sticky, sour sweat. “Your mother died because of me. I want to know if, in order to make that up to you, you need me to die too.”

  When Livvi doesn’t respond, Micah tells her: “It isn’t fair that I get away without paying for what happened.”

  The expression on Livvi’s face is tender, full of sadness. “I don’t think you did get away without paying for it.”

  Livvi is looking around the room again as if she’s taking note of the things that aren’t there. The personal touches. The tokens of love. “I have the feeling you’ve paid, one way or another, all the way along the line.”

  There is a quality in Livvi’s voice that seems to suggest that finally, all of this is beginning to make sense. “Miss Lesser…Micah…I can’t tell you whether you deserve to live or you deserve to die for what you did wrong in the past. But I can tell you that what you did today was a blessing. You gave me somebody I’ve been yearning for all my life. You gave me my mother.”

  Livvi has crossed the room and is standing beside Micah now, telling her softly: “You gave me a priceless gift—you let me know I was loved.”

  Livvi’s touch on Micah’s shoulder is bringing Micah a sensation of being lifted up into the light. And being cleansed. It is the feeling of absolution: the miracle of forgiveness.

  Micah is gazing at Livvi—seeing Bella. Bella with her luminous brown eyes and cap of golden curls.

  After a long, quiet moment, Micah tells her: “You make me believe in angels.”

  ***

  A little while later, when Livvi is leaving, she’s pausing in the doorway of Micah’s room—with a hopeful, hesitant smile—asking: “What was my mother like?”

  “She was like you,” Micah says. “She was exactly like you.”

  Livvi

  Kennedy Airport, New York ~ 2012

  Livvi is in the passenger seat of David’s Volvo. Grace is in the back—eagerly undoing her seat belt and chatting to Granger, who’s in a travel crate on the floor of the car.

  David is opening the trunk, unloading Livvi’s large, black suitcase and Grace’s small, pink one. The air outside is cold. Shrill with the whistles of traffic officers. Pungent with the smell of jet fuel and car exhaust.

  Livv
i’s hand is poised over her phone. The conversation she had yesterday in Boston, with Micah Lesser, has given her so much important information. Yet it left so many issues unresolved—a catalogue of loose ends that’s making Livvi wonder, When, and why, did my father disappear from Glen Cove and from everyone who’d been in his life? And why was the person Micah described…the person she called sweet and kind…why was he so different from the cold, distant man who raised me in Santa Ynez? And the woman I saw in my nightmares…the woman with the dark hair and the fiery-red lips…was she the person in the portrait, or was she my mother? And if it was my mother, how did that image of her find its way into my consciousness?

  Livvi is entering Micah’s number into the phone. But then she’s changing her mind and dropping the phone into her lap. Frustrated. Realizing the call is pointless. Micah would have no way of knowing any of these things.

  And Grace is asking: “Are we going on a big plane or on our own plane, like Grandpa does?”

  “On a big plane,” Livvi tells her.

  “Grandpa says when people travel around, the time changes. Will it be today or yesterday when we get there? And if it’s yesterday, can we do everything we did today all over again?”

  “Wherever you go, sweetheart, it’s today. It’s the day you’re in,” Livvi says. “Yesterday’s always over and gone.”

  In having this conversation with Grace, Livvi is being reminded that the past and the unknowable answers to its questions are out of her reach. She’s being shown that, as maddening as the prospect is, the healthiest thing to do with the burden of those questions is what she did with the suffocating weight of her father. Release them. Let them go. And give herself to the future.

  “Are you ready?” David is asking.

  He has opened the driver’s door and is leaning into the car. Looking at Livvi with love, and hope.

  A draft from outside is sending what appears to be a tiny golden bird fluttering from under the driver’s seat and into the air.

  Livvi is leaning forward and catching it. It’s Japanese: Origami. A square of gold foil that has been intricately folded into the shape of a crane.