Love's Encore Series (Books One and Two)
Page 21
Tyler rushed in front of her and opened the refrigerator door. “No, Mom. I’m old enough to do it myself. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll fix'em for both of us?”
Cecily shook her head in amazement. “When did you get to be all grown up? You’re going to be leaving for college before I know it.” Sadness pressed against her already raw heart.
“About that.” Tyler looked nervous, and he stayed silent a moment as he spread out the sandwich makings. “I know I don’t find out for a few more weeks if I got into Yale, but if I did, I don’t want to go.”
Cecily’s eyes widened. “That’s pretty definite-sounding. Last I heard, you were still thinking about it.”
“Nah. I’m certain, Mom.” Tyler continued to look at the sandwiches as he spoke. “I want to go to film school in Los Angeles.”
Los Angeles again. I’m starting to hate that place.
She thought of Rorie and her heart sank. Rorie had promised Tyler a letter of recommendation for his applications, but that was before any of what followed between Cecily and Rories had complicated things. There was a pretty good chance Rorie wouldn’t want anything to do with anyone in this family ever again, even Tyler. Especially now that she realized that his existence was the reason Cecily had left her in college.
“Tyler, there’s something I should tell you. About your letter of recommendation from Rorie—”
“Ah, man. You guys broke up. That’s why you’re all mopey right now!”
Cecily’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean? Why would you even think that she and I were—”
“Really, Mom? I mean, it seemed pretty obvious to me. The way you looked when you talked about her, and how you acted around each other at dinner. Plus, she’s like this super-hot lesbian, so—”
“Tyler!” Cecily could feel her cheeks start to burn. “How do you even know about that part?”
“IMDb, Mom.” Tyler slid the plate with her sandwich across the table to her.
Cecily shook her head in amazement. She’d had no idea it would be so easy to find out that type of thing. Was there even a point to trying to keep your life private anymore? “And why do you think—no, never mind. I shouldn’t be discussing this with you.”
“Why do I think what, Mom? That you’d be into that?”
“Well…uh…that…” Cheeks heating, Cecily had never felt more flustered in her life. “Tyler, I’m married to your father.”
“No offense, Mom, but I do live here. I know how you and dad are.”
“How we are?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to that.
“You know, like you only work together. You and dad hardly look at each other, and you never kiss or even touch. Other parents aren’t like that. Like, Doug’s parents are all over each other, always. It’s kinda gross.”
Cecily stifled a laugh. “I probably didn’t need to know that about Martha and Stan. But I get what you’re saying.” She studied her son for a moment, looking for signs of distress or anger at this revelation about her, but saw nothing beyond a content smile as he bit into his lunch. “So, I’m not saying you’re right about any of this, but if it were true, would it bother you?”
Tyler’s forehead wrinkled. “No,” he said through a mouthful of sandwich. “Why?”
“Some people are bothered by it, that’s all.”
Tyler shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. What’s important to me is I’ve never seen you look so happy as when she was around, or so awful like you did just now. So if you can, I think you should fix it. Oh, and,” he added, “I got an email from her with the letter of recommendation this morning. So she doesn’t totally hate you, probably.”
It was a little after two in the morning when Cecily heard a noise from downstairs. She’d finally dozed off a short while before, but she was a light sleeper even when she wasn’t so distressed. Grabbing her robe, she shrugged her arms into the sleeves as she tiptoed down the stairs. A light shone near the wet bar in the living room. Chet was standing at the bar, liberally pouring scotch into glass. He was wearing exercise clothes, which he wouldn’t have traveled in, so Cecily assumed he must have arrived home long enough ago to have changed. She could also tell by his mood that this wasn’t his first drink of the night.
“Did you just get home?” Of course, Cecily had just deduced that he hadn’t, but it seemed polite to ask.
Chet shrugged, drained the glass in one swift pull, and poured another. “’Bout an hour ago.”
Clearly something was bothering him. “Business not go well?” she guessed.
“Business wasn’t the problem. Angie called it off.”
Huh. So one of his girlfriends was around long enough for there to be something to call off? Interesting. Wait … Angie…?
“Isn’t Angie the same name as that girl you were on the mock trial team with back in law school? The one on the New Orleans trip?”
“Same name, same girl,” Chet growled into his scotch. “Woman, I mean,” he corrected.
Cecily pulled out a bar stool and sat down. Truth was, her legs felt a little wobbly at this revelation. “Chet, are you telling me you were seeing the very same woman you cheated on me with back then? When did this start?”
Chet sighed and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “It didn’t really start, exactly,” he mumbled. “More like it never really ended.”
Cecily felt like someone had taken the world and turned it ninety degrees onto its side.
My philandering husband turns out to be a one-woman man after all?
“But I…I guess I just assumed all this time that—”
“Yeah, I know what you assumed. And I didn’t bother to correct you. I knew divorce wasn't an option anyway. You and your mother made that abundantly clear with the prenup you made me sign.”
Cecily grabbed a glass and poured some scotch for herself, sipping it slowly as she tried to process this new information. When she and Chet married, she was terrified that he’d leave her once Tyler was born. The one thing she’d insisted on is that he never ask her for a divorce. They’d even written it into the prenuptial agreement, with huge financial penalties for him if he did. In retrospect, it was amazing that his parents went along with it, but both his and her families were Catholic, and didn’t believe in divorce, so that may have had something to do with it. Plus, divorces never do well in the polls.
“Mother was just trying to protect me, and the baby.” The words sounded flat and hollow even as she said them; worn out excuses and half-truths.
“Bullshit. She wanted to punish me for getting you pregnant. And she did a thorough job of it, apparently, because here we are.” He downed his drink and poured some more. “But it’s just been Angie this whole time. Well, not the first year or two, when I wasn’t sure where things would go with us, you know. I did try that much, at least. But after we both realized how incompatible we really were, yeah.”
The thing was, the whole time she was pregnant, she refused to have sex with him on the grounds that it could hurt the baby, and he had agreed. Once Tyler was born, she figured it would have to happen eventually, but except for that one time she'd told Rorie about, it never did. Finally, they'd admitted they had no interest in a physical relationship with each other, and she had been happy to agree that he could sleep with whomever he wanted as long as he was completely discreet. She could, too, though she never did. She’d always assumed he took full advantage of the arrangement, and he’d never hinted at a divorce. But if he’s been faithful to Angie this whole time…
“Chet, why did Angie call it off?” She could feel nervous pin pricks in her stomach as she waited for the answer. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t like what he had to say.
“She wants to get married,” he said sullenly. “It never bothered her before, but she turned thirty-eight a few months ago and she wants a baby before she’s forty. Says she wants to be married and do it right. I told her it was impossible. Even said we could have a baby anyway. But she’s had enough.”
“Chet, I—”
Cecily stared after him, feeling numb. In all honesty, she'd forgotten about the prenuptial agreement. It had been her mother's idea, and she'd agreed because she knew she couldn’t take care of herself and a baby on her own. This had guaranteed she’d never have to. If she remembered correctly, the wording of that contract allowed her to file for divorce without any such penalties—her mother would have seen to that to protect her—but it had never occurred to Cecily to do it.
Suddenly it all seemed very wrong.
She closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead where an ache was starting to form. If she offered him a divorce now, would it make a difference? Would Angie take him back? Cecily sighed. Where would she even start to learn how to take care of herself? If she divorced Chet, she'd be on her own for the first time in her life. Even if by some miracle Angie forgave Chet, Rorie would never forgive her. She would be completely alone.
Cecily knew the right answer. Too many people had been hurting for too long. It was time for it to stop. Not sure how else to accomplish it, she went to her computer and pulled up the directory for Chet's firm. She found Angie's name, and felt a shock of recognition when she clicked and the woman's face appeared, older now but recognizable all the same. But she felt no hatred toward her, and she hoped Angie would feel that way, too. Or at least that she wouldn't hate her so much as to delete this email Cecily was about to send without opening it.
Chapter 27
The scene shop looked completely different from the last time Cecily had walked through it before tech week. Every trace of A Streetcar Named Desire was gone, and piles of fresh lumber were once again stacked in anticipation of the next show. Things moved rapidly in the theater. No sooner did one show open than another was already being prepped to take its place when it closed. The crew would be unchanged, and some of the volunteers, but the actors, director, and design team would all be new.
Susan had asked her to return for the next show, but Cecily wasn’t certain she would. She had invested far more time and energy in her volunteer activities than she’d intended, caught up in the magic of the theater, and in being with Rorie again. Now there were memories of Rorie around every corner, and it would hardly be the refuge she’d intended for herself any more. She needed to let go of the past, and it would be much easier if she weren’t actively being haunted by it.
Cecily clutched the handles of the shopping bag tightly as she walked past the door to what had been Rorie’s office until a few days ago. She steeled herself to keep going, reminding herself she was here for a reason. In the bag was the costume she had worn in the final scene on opening night, about which the wardrobe mistress had left increasingly stern messages about returning.
The time immediately after leaving the stage had been such a blur that the fact she was still wearing her costume didn’t completely register until she she was in New York City and had to hunt for it on the floor of the apartment that morning to get dressed. She’d driven the whole way home dressed as Blanche, and had never envied that pathetic character more. When the reality of her life became unbearable for Blanche in the final scene of the play, she’d found her escape in delusion and madness. Given the complete disaster Cecily’s own life had become, the thought of being led away by some kind strangers in white coats to a nice, quiet mental institution held an undeniable appeal.
The worst part was, she’d lived her life in the same state of delusion. Her conversation with Chet last night had made that clear. She’d believed what everyone around her said, that she couldn't take care of herself. She'd allowed herself to be scared and weak. She'd given the bullies in her life power over her, from the Mean Moms like Polly and Amanda, to her own mother and mother-in-law. And she wasn't willing to do it anymore.
Contacting Angie had been the first step. For obvious reasons, the woman hadn't been sure what to make of her ex-lover's wife emailing her out of the blue to offer her Chet, free and clear. But she'd been open to discussion, and that was a good sign. Cecily planned to fill Chet in on this development tomorrow before their parents arrived for Thanksgiving dinner. Right after she told him Tyler was applying to film school instead of going to Yale.
For the first time in years, Cecily was starting to believe in herself, and it filled her with a sense of power. She was finally taking control of her life, and it felt fantastic. She still didn't know how to pay her taxes or open the safe, but she had finally started to accept that she had the ability to learn, and that was a good sign, too. And she was doing it as herself, and not just a role she was pretending to play.
The one area where her new found optimism didn't reach was Rorie. There was too much damage. Her heart ached to admit it, but she just couldn't believe there was a way to overcome it. As much as she longed for the security and love that she'd only ever experienced with Rorie, she was resigned to building a life on her own. Somehow.
Cecily turned down the hallway to the dressing rooms, still musing about the changes in her circumstances and making her plans for what to do next. The door to Bailey's dressing room was shut, so she turned the knob and flung the door wide. And experienced the shock of a lifetime.
Sitting on the makeup table, her head thrown back in ecstasy, was Polly Schroeder. Her skirt was hiked up to reveal more of her skinny white legs than Cecily had ever cared to see, her panties dangling from one foot, and lodged between her legs was a head of frizzy red curls that could only belong to Amanda.
Cecily cried out in surprise and dropped the shopping bag with her costume in it onto the floor, then scurried down the hall to escape. But the image that was seared into her brain haunted her, leaving her nowhere to hide. She heard a voice calling her name behind her, and sobbing coming from the dressing room.
“Cecily, let me explain,” Polly called out, an uncharacteristic desperation in her tone.
Cecily stopped and turned to face her. “There's no need to explain, really,” Cecily replied. “I'm pretty sure I saw exactly what was going on back there. I'm just afraid it's burned my retinas and I'll never see anything else again.”
“Make fun all you want, Cecily, but if you tell a living soul I will ruin you. I know your secrets.”
Cecily studied her long-time foe and for the first time felt no fear. Just pity. “If you really knew my secrets, Polly, and if you knew anything about me as a human being, you'd know that this particular secret is completely safe with me.”
“Well, it better be,” she replied with a huff, “because if you try to take me down, you'll be coming with me. Just remember that.”
Cecily could still hear muffled crying from the other end of the hall. She looked at Polly a moment, then shook her head. “Instead of threatening me, you might wanna go check on Amanda. She sounds upset.”
Polly glared at her. “You're no better than I am, you know.”
Cecily laughed. “No, I'm not. Because I let you, and people like you, control me.” She turned her back on Polly and started to walk away, then stopped, feeling the sudden urge to be charitable to her fallen enemy. “Polly? I'm not convinced you're capable of emotion, but if what you and Amanda have is based on anything other than mutual boredom, think carefully about how you handle it. I'm not going to tell anyone your secret, but the longer you keep it, the more likely it is that you'll never be anything more than the miserable person you are.” She grinned as she continued walking, and didn't bother to look back.
Telling Polly exactly what she thought of her had been the most remarkable, invigorating experience of her entire life. But maybe she'd been a little harsh. For a moment Cecily wondered if she could have been more kind. Then she laughed.
I gave her the gift of sound advice. No one said it had to come sugarcoated, too.
It was strange, this feeling that Polly could never have control over her again. She felt free,
like she was floating as she walked. She'd heard that bullies were usually just scared and hiding secrets of their own, but she'd never believed it until now. It made her wonder what type of secrets her mother was hiding to make her act the way she did. In her handling of Cecily's pregnancy and subsequent marriage to Chet, she'd been a bigger bully than Polly ever had. And the repercussions of that were still being felt. What compelled her mother to act the way she did?
Then the image of Polly and Amanda in the dressing room flashed into her head and she realized with a shudder that there were some secrets it might be best for her mother to take with her to her grave. She didn't need to know. She just needed to put her foot down and refuse to let her mother control her anymore. This new resolve buoyed her, and she felt hopeful that when her mother arrived tomorrow, things would be different between them.
“Cecily?” The sound of Susan's voice brought her out of her thoughts and back to the present.
She looked up and found with some surprise that she was just a few steps away from Susan's office. She hadn't been paying attention, although unlike before when her mind would wander without purpose and leave her scattered, this time she emerged from her thoughts feeling calm and confident.
“Susan, I just dropped by to return my costume from opening night.”
“I'm so glad I caught you. I've been trying to reach you for days.”
Cecily grimaced. “I'm sorry. I had my phone turned off.” She felt a flush of embarrassment at the memory of how badly she'd allowed herself to spiral out of control after Rorie left, until Tyler had returned home and brought her to her senses.
Susan laughed. “Well, I can't blame you!”
Cecily stiffened at her jovial tone. Laughter was hardly the appropriate response, considering the circumstances.
“I imagine you've been bombarded with calls for interviews after opening night. I can't blame you for laying low for a few days.”
“Interviews?” Cecily felt confused. She'd hardly given a thought to her performance on opening night. She'd been too consumed by dealing with her loss. “Why would anyone want an interview with me?”