Always Something There to Remind Me

by Beth Harbison

  “Helpful.”

  “I wish I could help you.”

  I sighed. “I do too.”

  It wasn’t that I wanted to steal him away or have him back for myself—it was impossible to even think about that—what I really needed was to sort out the past. I wanted to know what really happened and if he’d regretted it and how the years had shaken down his memories of me and feelings for me.

  Were they gone?

  Were they stuffed away like an old baby blanket in storage?

  Had they, maybe, never really existed at all?

  “You should talk to him about it,” Jordan said.

  “No,” I said. “I can’t. Not directly.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’d sound like a psycho. He’s married. I need to figure out a way to dance around the point until he lands on it.”

  Jordan groaned. “You are a psycho. And I have to hang up and go to sleep.”

  I glanced at the clock on my desk. It was almost eleven thirty. Sleep would probably be a mercy to me too. “Thank you,” I said sincerely. “For everything.”

  “Please consider what I said. You really do have a little blip to resolve here and the best way to do that is just come at all this stuff head-on. It’s not that big a deal, but if you keep sweating it and overthinking it, it’s going to feel bigger and bigger until eventually you won’t be able to keep your perspective when you think about it. That’s how a little blip becomes a big problem.”

  I sighed. “You’re a wise old woman, I’ll give you that.”

  “I am, you’re right. Now go to sleep yourself. You’ve had a rough night.”

  We hung up and I went to bed, but I don’t think I slept at all.

  All I could do was think about Nate. Weirdly, it wasn’t all “Nate and Theresa,” because the reality of the situation was beyond that. If they’d been clearly in love, then maybe I would have had some indulgently petty feelings about that, and I’m not sure where it would have gone from there.

  But the fact that he looked so sad, so haunted, grabbed me by the heart and wouldn’t let go.

  And that was one of the reasons I knew I truly loved him.

  Still.

  * * *

  Producer Pippa was dancing on my last nerve.

  Roxanne’s party wasn’t the only thing we had going on. Granted, the fact that it was going to be on that stupid TV show made it a bigger deal and put our reputation on the line a bit more, but our reputation wasn’t going to be too pretty if word got around that the place was crawling with TV cameras and wires, etc., and that the entire staff was so busy kowtowing to a bratty sixteen-year-old that they weren’t paying attention to the other hotel guests.

  But it seemed everyone except me was ready for their close-up.

  Jeremy more than anyone.

  “Where is Roxanne?” he asked me, kneading his hands in front of him. It had been days since he’d run into the table, and his eye was still caked in makeup, the swelling more obvious than he thought. Odd, considering how freaked he’d been about a blemish that hadn’t been there, but I guess he had come too close to missing his opportunity to be on TV. Now he was willing to yield a little on his physical appearance.

  “I don’t think she’s here,” I said.

  “She was supposed to be here half an hour ago. Pippa wants to show us discussing the options for her party.”

  “But we already discussed them.” I looked at him more closely. “Is that eyeliner you’re wearing over your black eye? So, like, you covered the black eye, then added black to it?”

  He sighed. “I’m simply enhancing my eyes for the camera. So they look like eyes and not just”—he tossed his hands—“two shiny spots on my face.”

  I nodded. “Likewise the lipstick.”

  “I am not wearing lipstick.”

  “Jeremy.”

  “It’s just a subtle little liner.”

  As subtle as Eddie Izzard. “Looks good, Jeremy, but they show this stuff in HD, you know. You better hope it doesn’t look like makeup over a wound on camera. Unless, of course, that’s the look you’re going for.”

  He raised the back of his hand to his mouth. “Do you really think it’s too much?”

  “I think you should revisit it.”

  Pippa showed up then. Well, bustled up. She seemed to move in short, staccato, almost violent steps. “Erin, we need you to suggest these things to Roxanne.” She handed me a sheet of paper.

  I looked at it. Fleet of Hummers to bring guests, forty-foot volcano, fortune cookie invitations and rejections … This was ridiculous. “A volcano would go against the fire code, of course.”

  “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

  “But if this isn’t her will, I don’t see the point in borrowing trouble so she wants impossible things this way.”

  Pippa would hear none of it. “Nothing’s impossible!”

  “Yes, I think the volcano actually is.” I looked at the list again. “And what are fortune cookie rejections?”

  “Oh, they’re excellent. She has a bunch of eager friends hanging around to see if they get invited and they find out by opening a fortune cookie!”

  “So some will open a cookie and get a no?”

  Pippa’s eyes lit up. “Good, right? Tyra did something similar on America’s Next Top Model.”

  “That’s just mean.”

  “Good viewing, dear. Good viewing.”

  I went back to the list. “And there’s just no way the health department or the ASPCA is going to let us have a hundred and one Dalmatian puppies milling around.”

  She sucked the air in through her teeth. “Yes, we did run into that problem once before. Best not to use the words puppy and milling in the same sentence, believe me.”

  Bill arrived then, thank God. “Pippa,” he said, “the dog thing would be a mess, even if it were possible. Totally unpredictable.”

  Clearly she loved the idea of that being the big birthday catastrophe that put the drama in the episode.

  Bill must have noticed that look come into her eye too, because then he added, “And you don’t want the liability for personal injury or equipment.”

  That did it. The shrewd look came back into her eye and she gave a quick nod. “Well played, Watts. Now can you please talk to Erin here about her chat with Roxanne? We need something camera-worthy.”

  “Oh, I think now that Jeremy’s back, he’ll be doing anything you need done on camera,” I said quickly.

  “Jeremy?” Pippa looked blank.

  “The guy with the makeup,” Bill told her.

  I cringed inwardly. Jeremy would be horrified. But, really, he shouldn’t have put the makeup on if people noticing it was going to horrify him.

  “Him! No, no, no, we’re going to stick with you, honey, the camera likes you better. And he’s clumsy, isn’t he?”

  “Thanks, but I’m really not interested.”

  “Nonsense, of course you are!” She was off without bothering to wait for an answer.

  I looked imploringly at Bill. “I’m really not.”

  “The problem is you’re the only one who’s really telegenic. I don’t think she’s going to let up on this.”

  “But Jeremy went to take the makeup off,” I said. “Or at last make it more subtle. He’ll probably keep the cover over his bruises. Anyway, I’m sure he’ll look a lot more telegenic now.”

  Bill laughed. “The makeup was just the icing. What Pippa’s looking for is someone sympathetic for the audience to identify with when the snotty sixteen-year-old starts throwing a fit.”

  I had to laugh at his unexpected frankness. “A sacrificial lamb.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That sort of stinks.”

  He nodded. “Tell me about it. But, listen, let me tell you a little secret. If you refuse, Pippa’s not going to give up the idea. She’s just going to go ahead and use unflattering footage of you anyway. It’ll still be better than she’ll get from your friend. So if you
want to have some control over this, you might consider just going with it.”

  Jeremy would be so disappointed. I could already picture his crestfallen lined and shaded eyes. “I just really, really don’t want to do this,” I said. “Really.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “But you’re saying she’ll find a way regardless.”

  “Yup.”

  I let out a long breath. “Can you help me sort of integrate Jeremy into the interviews? Maybe do both of us?”

  He considered for a moment. “I can try. Yeah, I think I can do that.”

  “Okay. So what is it you need now?”

  “Pippa gave you the list, I see.” He nodded at the paper in my hand with a wry smile.

  “I’m not saying this stuff.”

  “Of course not. What you’ll suggest is all the things you’ve already suggested that she’s already nixed.”

  “Oooh! Good thinking!”

  He gave a nod. “Plus a few of the absurd requests that you’re able to accommodate.”

  “There are a few of those.”

  “Believe me, there’s always a train wreck of some sort at these things.” He shrugged and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “Pippa doesn’t need to manufacture one. I just want you to be as prepared as you can be.”

  “Thanks.” I gave a wave as he went back to production.

  “Erin!”

  I started, having rarely heard my name whined in quite such a screechy way.

  It was, of course, Roxanne.

  “There you are!” I said, falsely bright.

  “Did you convince Justin to come yet?”

  Jesus, she was like a tape machine playing the same thing over and over again. “Well, like I told you, I don’t think he’s going to do that unless he comes to the conclusion himself. But the guest list has tons of guys on it. Don’t waste your time on one like that. He doesn’t deserve you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. I had the distinct impression she was able to do this on command and it had probably gotten her a lot of valuable goodies from Mommy and Daddy. “I’m counting on having a boyfriend there! Otherwise, I’ll look like such a loser!”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off the migraine that was rapidly coming on. “Actually, Roxanne? I just can’t control every—” I stopped. No, I couldn’t control everything. But I might be able to control this, at least a little bit. “I’ve got a great idea.”

  Her eyes brightened. “What is it?”

  “What if we picked out the absolute best, hottest guy and made him your boyfriend for the night?”

  “But you said he wouldn’t come.”

  Oh, please. Like the Justin I’d talked to was the best, hottest guy. There was no way. “No, I mean hire a model or actor.” We’d done that on a number of occasions at the hotel, invited ringers to events to get out there and dance and be attractive and basically work the room to make it seem like the party was a success even if it was filled with dullards.

  “You mean hire someone to fake it?”

  I shrugged, afraid she was going to be offended. “Sure. That way you can make up whatever story you want about how you met, how close you are, whatever, and everyone will think you have this amazing boyfriend who goes to another school.”

  She scratched her head. “Hm.”

  I waited. It was the best offer she was going to get.

  “Do you have pictures?” she asked.

  “I can get them.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “Do it!”

  Pippa ran over then, dragging a cameraman whose name, I’d learned, was Tiny (he was neither big nor small, so I have no idea why), behind her. “Get this!” she rasped to him in a stage whisper that I guess she thought Roxanne wouldn’t be able to hear.

  “Um.” The camera was so close it almost knocked me in the cheek. I put up a hand to stave him off. “Roxanne.” I saw her eyes drift over to the camera and then fill with tears again.

  Uh-oh, she was eating this up.

  “I … can’t … live … without him! He has to come!” she wailed, obviously continuing an earlier scene in which she’d mourned the loss of Justin.

  Shit. The camera swung over to me. “Roxanne.” I licked my parched lips. “We just talked about this—” What was I doing? I should be saying fuck fuck fuck so it was unusable footage.

  Too late. “Oh, thank you for helping!” She threw her arms around my neck and squeezed uncomfortably tight.

  “Is this the guy in Afghan we’re talking about?” Pippa asked with a smirk.

  I looked at her. “He’s back in the States now.”

  “Mmmn.”

  But it became clear that Roxanne was into the idea of a hired boyfriend. She was just creating a “boyfriend drama story line” … I’d come to understand something of the way she thought.

  God help me.

  * * *

  “Mom, Jordan knew Nate, right?”

  It was so strange to hear Nate’s name coming out of Cam’s mouth that I think I might have actually jumped a little. “Yes, she did.”

  “So did you talk to her after your dinner with him?”

  Had Cam heard me talking to Jordan? I rewound what I could recall of the conversation, hoping I hadn’t said anything incriminating. “Yes,” I said evenly. “It was a little hard for me, so I talked to her about it afterwards.”

  Cam plunked down on the sofa next to me. “Why was it hard?”

  What had I said? Was she quizzing me to see if I’d tell the truth when pressed? Did she already know too many elements of the truth for me to lie about it now?

  “Because it’s always emotional to see people you haven’t seen in a long time,” I said. “Especially if they’re people you were really close to once.”

  “Like you and Nate.”

  “And Theresa.”

  “But…” She sighed. “Never mind.”

  She wanted to know more about Nate and me. I wasn’t ready to tell her more, though. As a compromise, I told her, “Look, just because you get older doesn’t mean you totally grow up. Part of me felt really weird seeing my old boyfriend and my old friend married to each other.”

  Cam eyes lit with interest. “Were there sparks between you and Nate? Did you feel the way you used to?”

  I was very glad she covered her first question with the second. “No, I don’t feel the way I used to. It’s been a long time and we’re not the same people we were.”

  “But were you jealous?” She screwed up her face. “Because I kind of am, and I don’t even know them.”

  I frowned. “It was definitely disconcerting. And, honestly, if I’d known way back then that this would happen someday, it would have just killed me. I guess that’s why we don’t get to know our future until it comes to us in time, huh?”

  “But maybe you could have stopped it!”

  I’d done everything I could to get him back. There was no way I could have stopped this. “Things happen for a reason,” I said, without really believing it. “We just don’t always know what the reason is.”

  Now, normally I wouldn’t be a fan of saying something to my daughter that I didn’t really believe, but when I was her age there were a lot of days when having faith was the only thing that got me through.

  I didn’t need to inject her with cynicism about that.

  “Did I ever tell you how I met Jordan?” I asked, trying to deflect the conversation off of Nate.

  “How?”

  “We were in the library and this obnoxious boy stole my purse and wouldn’t give it back. He was just messing around, but he looked at her and asked her if he should give it back to me.”

  Cam laughed. “And of course she said yes!”

  “Yup. A lesser girl would have taken the opportunity to flirt with him, but she made it completely clear she thought he was being a jerk.”

  “So he gave it back?”

  “And left immediately, shamed.” I smiled, remembering. Marvin Borniak. He had been so obnoxious, for the enti
re two years I’d gone to school with him. “Never knowing he’d planted the seed for such a long-lasting friendship.”

  “Wow.”

  “Right?”

  She laughed. “You should find him on Facebook and tell him.”

  “I probably should.” I reached out and ruffled her hair. “What do you think? Should we watch a movie tonight?”

  “Actually, Amy and I were going to go do a Glee marathon at her house and eat tons of Ben & Jerry’s. But I can stay here if you want.”

  “No, no, no, that’s okay.” I smiled. “A Glee and ice-cream marathon sounds like just what you two need.”

  She got up and took her dishes to the sink, started for her room, then stopped and turned back. “Mom?”

  “Mmm?”

  “I’m really glad we can talk.”

  My heart swelled and I went to her and pulled her into my arms. “Me too, baby. Me too.”

  Chapter 21

  The universe sends signs, even when we’re too stupid or bullheaded to see them.

  When I went out to my car after work, I saw that the rear left tire was flat. Completely flat.

  Now, here’s a shameful admission—I never learned to change a tire. I absolutely hate the idea of having to count on a man for certain tasks, but, to me, car stuff and the removal of dead rodents would forever be the job of someone with a penis.

  So I called Rick and asked him to come over and help.

  While I waited for him to arrive, I sat on the hood of my car and looked at the stars and the moon. There was a night a million years ago that I could remember sitting by the lake in Potomac Falls with Nate, looking at the moonlight play on the water and the stars in the sky. It had been such a perfect children’s storybook kind of evening that, ever since then, I’d come to associate it with happiness and love. All good things.

  To this day, whenever there’s a full moon I’m taken back to those carefree days and the feeling of looking at those stars, wishing on my whole, wide-open future.

  It wasn’t so wide open anymore, of course. Time had marched on and things had changed; being an adult wasn’t nearly as exciting as being a kid looking forward to being an adult.

  Once upon a time, Nate and I had been It. We’d talked all night on the phone, seen each other for hours every day, slept together, ate together, played together. Everyone thought of us as NateandErin. How had we gotten so far apart that it would be wrong for us to even talk to each other? If I were to call him and tell him I was thinking about him, it would be tantamount to adultery.