by Anne Pfeffer
“Why?”
“If you were here I’d ask you to work with me on the set. On Mystery Moon.”
“Really? You mean, as an assistant?”
He nods. “You’ve got talent, Ryan. You did a great job on that film.”
He sits down at his desk again, while I go over to this big free-standing globe he has. Dad thinks I’ve got talent. He’s never said anything like that before.
The globe’s one of those things that, using modern technology, has been carefully aged to look like it’s a two hundred year old precious relic. Ever since I was little, I’ve tried to see how fast I could get it to spin. I put a finger on it and start it twirling.
I did a great job. I give the globe an extra whirl.
“How are you feeling these days? With Michael gone?” Dad asks.
“I really miss him. But, it’s weird how so much has happened to me since he died. Even because he died. I feel like more has happened to me since September than in the whole rest of my life.”
“It’s a damn shame about Michael,” Dad says. “But I’ve been really proud of you this year. You’ve grown up a lot.”
“You think so?”
“Sure. Working hard, good grades, beautiful girlfriend.” He pauses. “Getting laid.”
I jump, almost knocking over the globe, my face on fire. There’s no point in denying it.
“How’d you find out?”
“The gardeners mentioned all the guests we were having for a while there. As a matter of fact, it was all because of Alberto’s little boy.”
“Hector?” I ask, incredulous. It was my buddy, Hector, who finked me out?
“Yeah, it was funny. Apparently, Hector discovered a baseball cap on the doorknob of the guest house, got all excited, and went back to pinch a couple of them.” Dad doesn’t comment that there haven’t been any caps to pinch for a while, and I don’t bring it up.
“But they were always still there… afterward!”
“Yeah, Alberto kept making Hector put them back. That’s when he mentioned the guests to me.”
Betrayed by a four-year old. I don’t know what to say. I throw Dad a cautious look.
“Are you being safe with her? This is important.”
“Yes.” When he looks at me closely, I say “Really, Dad. It’s okay. I promise.”
“Be good to that girl. Treat her right.”
“Dad. I do.”
“I believe you. You’re a good boy. A good person.”
I suddenly feel tears at the back of my eyes. I turn toward the globe again and twirl it, getting it spinning crazily. No crying allowed. It wouldn’t be manly.
Chapter 48
“Mom?” It’s the morning after the Dinner from Hell. I am standing in the doorway of her office, where she sits at this super-rare, valuable antique desk she found and then loaded up with the latest, most up-to-date computer equipment.
I take a close look at her. She’s so thin and frail, I could blow her over with a single puff of breath. She’s really pretty, actually, once you get past the fingernails and jewelry and designer clothes. She has this wounded look in her eyes.
“I’m sorry about last night. I was a total dick.”
“Language, Ryan.” She looks at me over the top of her glasses.
“I was a total jerk.”
“That’s better,” she says. And then she laughs. My mother has made an actual joke. I’m so surprised that I laugh, too. I try to think of something more to say to her, something real. The problem is, I realize, I don’t know my mother at all.
“I talked to Dad for a long time last night,” I tell her. “I got a lot of stuff out of my system.”
“So I heard. I guess I haven’t been such a good mother, have I?” Slowly, with great care, she picks up several paper clips, dropping them one by one into a heavy crystal bowl on her desk.
“Mom…”
“No, I understand. It never came naturally to me, you know.” She speaks slowly, as if from some sad, dark place deep inside of her. “But I do love you kids. I didn’t mean to let you down.” She stares, sad and dry-eyed, at the top of her desk.
I can’t believe what an asshole I was, that I hurt my mother this way. I’m beside her in two strides, patting her on the shoulder. “You didn’t let us down,” I tell her. “We love you, too.”
The first part of that isn’t true. She did let us down. But I let Michael down, too. I guess if I want him and the karma gods to forgive me for my mistakes, I ought to forgive Mom for hers.
And the second part of what I said is true. I do love my mother, and so do my sisters.
Mom smiles at me. “Thank you for being so good with the girls. We could really see that at dinner last night.”
“I assume you mean before I went postal.”
“Yes, that’s what I mean.” And now she laughs again, and so do I.
“I’m really sorry for the times we’ve disappointed you,” she says. “Next time, don’t wait three years to tell us. No need to suffer in silence.”
“Okay.” Mom and I have a long way to go, but this was a first step anyway.
• • •
Now it’s the girls’ turn. I knock on the door of Maddy’s room, where the two of them are sprawled in bean bag chairs, pretending to do their homework. Maddy’s room is all pink carousel horses, and Molly’s is all yellow birds and butterflies. I give the girls another year before they rebel with lava lamps and posters of boy bands.
“I’m sorry, you guys,” I say.
“For what?” asks Maddy. She’s been growing out her hair and has started wearing it in long blond braids.
“For being an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot,” Molly replies. “You’re a dufus.”
“You’re a dork,” says Maddy.
I grab a foam basketball and aim it at a small hoop on the wall. I put it there for Maddy, but I’m the one who usually uses it. I shoot the ball while I talk, but it hits the rim and bounces away, while I scramble after it.
“Watch it, you guys. We’re from the same gene pool, you know,” I tell them.
“What does that mean?” Molly wants to know. She’s just gotten glasses, and I’m not used to the way they look on her.
“It means we come from the same parents, so anything I am, you guys are the same.”
“Oh, well in that case, you’re beautiful!” shouts Maddy.
“You’re smart!” That’s Molly.
I shoot again and this time score two points on the hoop.
“I knew you’d see it my way.” Then, I ask them, “Are you guys mad at me for yelling at Mom and Dad last night?”
“We were kind of freaked out. But then Daddy told us you were just venting.” Molly is always pleased to learn a new vocabulary word. “He said you’re all better now.”
“He’s right. I am better. And you know I think Mom and Dad are pretty cool, right?”
“But not as cool as us, right?” Maddy gets up and takes the ball from me.
“No, you guys are way cooler.”
Maddy shoots the basketball from across the room and sinks it. It’s a perfect shot.
Chapter 49
Chrissie’s a month from her due date when Mitzi finally schedules her audition for late on a Friday afternoon. Luckily, Emily’s in rehearsal, so I can escape to get Chrissie without telling her what I’m doing. Since Emily doesn’t know Chrissie went to the party, I can’t tell her about the audition.
Unfortunately, that’s not the only secret I’m keeping. Nat’s going to be there tonight, and I don’t plan to tell Chrissie he’s Michael’s father. No point in getting her worked up.
We are at Dad’s pre-production offices, sitting in an audition room. A couple of hard chairs sit in front of a white wall. That’s where the actors do their thing. The rest of us pile onto one of the sofas on the other side of the small room, facing the two chairs. Mitzi has just five actresses waiting, with Chrissie on last.
Jared’s there ready to read. In
Mystery Moon, he plays a private eye in a romance with Elaine, a rich young widow played by his co-star Melinda Radnor. Roxanne’s a waitress at a coffee shop he frequents. He and Roxanne flirt and talk only three times, but the experience affects him deeply, destroying his relationship with Elaine and changing his life forever.
“So for it to be believable,” Dad tells me, “Roxanne’s gotta burn up the screen. She needs to have major chemistry with Jared and make a big impact on the audience in just three scenes.”
Mitzi brings in the actresses one by one. Trisha Hamilton, who’s gotten great reviews in a new TV drama, is really good, and Nat talks to her for a while. She’s a redhead with long legs and a sexy whisky voice. But I know Mitzi’s biding her time. She’s met with Chrissie a couple of times and has coached her.
“The last up is Chrissie Valentino. You met her at the party,” she reminds Dad and Nat. “She’s Ryan’s friend from the tennis club.”
When Chrissie enters, Dad and Nat both draw back a little to study her. She’s so massive it’s almost impossible to believe she’ll ever be thin again. She’s wearing her SaveWell uniform, the buttons pulling and gapping across her belly.
“It’ll be fine,” Mitzi tells Dad. “She’d be down to the right weight long before the shoot. It’d be a condition of the contract that she had to get in shape in time.”
Walking in, Chrissie looks tired and worried, but when she sees Jared, it’s as if she switches on this inner light. She’s suddenly this beautiful, exciting red-hot mama.
“Hey, gorgeous, you been waitin’ for me?” Chrissie says it in a way that jolts every man in the room upright in his seat, holding his breath to see what happens next.
“There she is!” Jared bounds to his feet, looking at Chrissie as if he’s Adam and she’s Eve, and he’s seeing a woman in a fig leaf for the very first time.
Without a break, Chrissie and Jared move into their scenes, which they’ve memorized, while Mitzi sits back, looking pleased with herself. Nat looks at Dad, and Dad looks at me, and I breathe this huge sigh of relief, because from the first line, it’s obvious and we all know it.
Chrissie was born to be Roxanne.
• • •
Afterward, I run up to Chrissie, hugging her and yelling about how incredible she was. “You got it! You got the job, Chrissie!”
She looks dazed. “This is way better than my commercial for Tidy Litter.”
Dad invites us all back to the house for dinner, where Chrissie takes up two places at the table. Totally up from the success of the audition, she’s sparkling, talking to Dad and Mitzi, her fingernails flashing bright pink whenever she moves her hands. Jared’s gone home, but Nat is sitting across from me. He’s so much quieter since Michael died and has gained a lot of weight. His hair’s gray everywhere now, instead of just at the temples.
Rosario brings in trays of her awesome Mexican food. I jump up to help her. “Thanks, Ro,” I tell her. I hand Nat a platter of quesadillas, feeling guilty. He has no idea his grandchild is sitting at the table with him.
“You’ll need an agent,” Dad says to Chrissie. “I’ll introduce you to some people over at Hollywood Artists.”
“Hey, Chrissie,” I say, “Movies pay better than the SaveWell!”
“Thank the Lord,” she says. Then, “Ryan, now I can return the money to you for all those bills you paid!” Dad quietly chokes on his chimichanga.
Everyone’s looking at me. I examine my plate, noting the exact coordinates of my cheese quesadilla in contrast to the position of the refried beans. Choosing my words carefully, I say “Dad, I told you before. I’ve been helping Chrissie out, because she’s a friend. But it’s not my baby.”
Chrissie leaps into the conversation. “Oh, no,” she assures my dad. “This baby’s father passed away very suddenly. In a vehicle accident.”
Nat sits back in his chair, going pale. As he looks up, his eyes meet mine. In that instant, I see the light go on for Nat.
“Chrissie,” he says. “My son died this September in a car accident. His name was Michael.”
“Oh!” Her mouth pops open. For an instant, her eyes shoot over to me, with a look of total panic. I try to signal her back with my own—it’s okay—but the truth is I don’t really know if it’s going to be okay for her.
I’d be relieved that her secret is out if I didn’t have to worry she was going to disappear again. This time for real.
Meanwhile, Chrissie and Nat are staring at each other. But Chrissie never loses her cool for long. Her head goes up. “My relationship with Michael was brief,” she tells him, “but profound.”
Nat’s voice is choked. “How brief?”
“Once. In the Pro Shop.” She sets each word out so carefully, it’s like she’s afraid they’ll break. Looking as if he’s on autopilot, Nat moves over to where Chrissie’s sitting, and Mitzi gives him her chair. Chrissie’s very still and Nat’s chalk-colored, but the two manage to smile at each other anyway.
“Michael had a beautiful spirit,” Chrissie says after a minute. “This boy does, too.”
“It’s a boy?” Nat asks. His voice is shaking with emotion.
Chrissie nods. “I’m namin’ him Michael.”
I can hardly look at Nat. So many expressions are crossing his face at the same time: joy, grief, shock, regret. “It’s a gift,” he says. “From heaven.”
“Yes. It is.” Chrissie gives him a warm, beautiful smile, then jumps a little and takes Nat’s hand and puts it on her belly. “Your grandson’s waving to you right now. Feel that?”
An expression of wonder comes over his face. “Excuse me.” Nat reaches for his cell phone and punches a number. “Yancy?” he says. “You gotta get over here. Now.”
Chapter 50
As Yancy hurries in, you can almost see the emotion in the room. Nat looks dazed, as if he’d like to be overjoyed but he’s afraid to be. Mitzi and Mom are in tears. Only my dad is expressionless, as if he’s thinking hard. I’m glad that I don’t have to keep this secret from my parents any longer.
“So you’ve been helping her for… what… months?” Nat sounds incredulous. He and Chrissie are transfixed by her belly. She keeps moving his hand around on it, yelling out “There’s another one!” and “Oh boy, that was a big one!” Yancy sees the two of them and stops short, her eyes narrowing.
I nod in answer to Nat’s question. “I was doing it for Michael. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. She’s due in a month.” The adults in the room are looking at us, astonished.
Yancy walks up to Chrissie, unsmiling, and extends her hand. “I’m Yancy Weston, Michael’s mother.” Nat takes his hand off Chrissie’s belly, giving Yancy a confused look.
Chrissie pulls herself to her feet. “How do you do?” she says, shaking hands with Yancy. There’s an awkward pause.
“So, you knew my son?” Yancy’s tone is neutral.
“Yes, ma’m.”
“And this is his baby?”
“Yes, ma’m.” Chrissie’s smiling, but I suddenly realize I’ve never seen her this pale. And, although her mouth’s smiling, her eyes aren’t.
“Time for dessert!” Mom calls out as Rosario comes in with platters in each hand. Mom bustles around handing out slices of cake that no one seems to want.
Dad has pulled Nat and Yancy aside, and now they come for me. The four of us go into the kitchen.
“Ryan,” Dad asks. “Are you a hundred percent sure this is Michael’s baby?”
“I asked her that,” I say. “She swore it was. And I know for sure Michael slept with her, because he told me himself. The night he died.”
They look as if they’re wondering just how many more secrets I’ve got hidden away.
“Did she approach you about this, ask you for money?” Dad asks.
“No way,” I tell them. “I looked her up when I found out she was pregnant. She’s never asked me for a dime. I paid some bills while she was on bed rest, but I had to twist her arm first.”
“But t
here’s no absolute proof he’s the father?” Nat asks. I shake my head.
“We need it,” Yancy snaps. “We need to know for sure.” So a few minutes later, I pull Chrissie aside, pluck up my courage and ask her. She says “Of course I will take a paternity test.” Being a great actress, she sounds cheerful and confident as she says it. But I know better.
Is she going to disappear again now? Then I think: Roxanne. Would Chrissie bolt from a major film role?
I don’t have the answer. I stand there, making conversation, while my intestines tie themselves into a series of pretzels.
• • •
After dinner, I give Emily a quick good night call, then take Chrissie home. By now, my car could drive itself to Chrissie’s house. It makes this powerful hum as I gun it up the 405, passing the few cars on the road with us. The whole way up, I’m thinking what’s Chrissie going to do now?
As we reach the top of the ridge, the lights of the San Fernando Valley spread out before us like the jewelry spilled across my mother’s dressing table before a big event.
Chrissie leans her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes.
“You okay?” I ask her.
“I’m just tired.”
“What are you thinking? I mean, are you worried about Nat and Yancy?”
“I’m so tired right now I can’t think anythin’,” she says.
I help her up the stairs and to her apartment door. As she opens it and enters her place, I find myself hanging in the doorway, not wanting to leave. “Are you really okay?”
She nods. “I gotta go to the bathroom.” She disappears, while I flop down on some pillows on the floor. I hope Chrissie will be fine now. Nat and Yancy won’t cause any trouble. They’ll get to know her, and they’ll help her with the baby.
Her career, for sure, is off to a good start in Mitzi’s hands. Mitzi’s like a giant searchlight, always on the move. She’s one the best new-talent spotters in Hollywood, and right now the beam of her searchlight has stopped on Chrissie. I lie on the carpet and give a double thumbs up to Lucille Ball, looking down at me from her poster on the wall.
Chrissie, I’m noticing, has been gone a long time.