Ascent

by Amy Kinzer

  I want to look my best. Because back then it was the last day I saw my mother.

  I walk into the kitchen and wait at the table. My eight-year-old self is trying to make life easy for Mom. All dressed and ready for whatever the day has in store.

  Dad comes into the kitchen wearing jeans and a polo-shirt with his book bag hanging off his shoulder. He fiddles with the coffee maker until it starts steaming and spitting water. While he waits for the coffee to finish, he folds his arms over his chest. When the sputtering stops he gets out a mug and pours half the contents in and screws on the lid.

  Once he’s done with his morning ritual, he spins around and sees me for the first time.

  “You’re up early,” he mutters at me as he heads to the door.

  “Yeah! I’m going to help Mom find a job today!” My voice is more enthusiastic than I mean it to be. It’s like I can make it happen by saying the words.

  “Does she know that?”

  I shrug my shoulders and glance down the hallway towards her bedroom. There is absolutely no movement.

  “Well, it would be great if you could actually help her find one. I wouldn’t hold my breath though.”

  He opens the door and lets it fall back behind him. It clacks against the doorway when it shuts, echoing through the house. The car’s engine starts and fades as he pulls out of the driveway.

  ***

  Mom doesn’t make an appearance until almost 10:00. I sit on the couch watching Mom’s soap operas, waiting for her to come out of the room so I can help her find a job. I’m sure anybody will hire my mom. They just need to meet her.

  I eat three bowls of Lucky Charms and the only thing that stops me from a fourth is the fact I already picked all the marshmallows out of the box. I want to go down to her room and knock on the door. My ears are on high alert, waiting for the sound of her coming down the hallway. But the only sounds in the house are my breathing, Bandage’s purring, and the TV.

  Being around Mom is like walking on eggshells. She lives between her movie star self and her has-been self. It’s impossible to balance between the two. To be around her is to always be super careful to not send her to the wrong side. My goal was to always keep Mom as her movie star self, not the self that looked like it was about to self-destruct.

  But when you’re eight and your mom’s still around, life’s still all sunshine and rainbows.

  The soft sound of footsteps tickles my ears and I hear the shower run. Forty minutes later Mom comes out wearing a suit with broad shoulders pads that make her look like a scarecrow masquerading in the clothes of a linebacker.

  She places a newspaper on the table and gives me a weak smile. It’s the same newspaper from yesterday – the one we circled the jobs in. “So, I guess you’re stuck with me today, Farrah. You can wait in the car while I drop off resumes.”

  “Good!” I jump off the couch excitedly. I’m positive that someone really lucky will hire Mom. At least, my eight-year-old self is.

  ***

  We spend the first part of the afternoon driving through the business district. Mom walks into tall buildings, the glass windows reaching up to the sky, to drop off her resume. The trips are quick. Every time she stops and gets out of the car I wonder how long she’ll be, if they’ll interview her right on the spot, if they’ll want her to work the same day. I’m sure every person Mom hands her resume to will want to hire her right then. I fret over who will watch me while dad at school. But she’s never gone long. Every time she returns she has that same worried look.

  By four o’clock she’s checked off our list. We drive around in circles until we arrive at the mall. For a minute I think we’ll go shopping. Kelly Miller, the girl from my school all the girls want to be, just got the cutest wedge sandals and I want a pair. I’ve been talking to Mom about them all week. But instead she grabs what’s left of her resumes and steps out of the car.

  “Farah-Kate, why don’t you follow me inside? It’s going to be a while and I don’t want you waiting in the car by yourself. I’ll give you a five and maybe you can get an Orange Julius or something.”

  I hop out of the car. I love Orange Julius. The idea of a fruity, frozen drink makes me forget why we’re walking inside.

  I walk to the center of the mall to get my drink while Mom walks into J.C. Penney’s. There is nothing more depressing than J.C. Penney’s. Mom has her resume firmly in hand as she walks in the store.

  A clique of teens hangs out in the food court. I want nothing more than to be a teen and wear heeled shoes and makeup. Mom still doesn’t let me wear makeup. The day I snuck into her room to put on her blue eye shadow she made me wash my face with her goopy cream. Dad laughed as Mom stood red-faced in the bathroom door making sure I got off every last speckle. These girls are everything I want to be. I can’t stop staring as they swish their hair over their shoulders and giggle at the guys who can’t take their eyes off of them.

  Mom comes out of J.C. Penney’s and spots me sitting alone at a table. She pulls out the chair across from me and sits down. She rests her chin on the flat of her hand and sighs. “I guess we’re done for the day.”

  I nod my head. The high school students giggle in the distance. We might as well be in a different universe.

  “Are you hungry?”

  I look down at my empty Orange Julius. Besides Lucky Charms, it’s all I’ve eaten all day. “Yes.”

  “Good, I know just the place.”

  ***

  The place is a bar that has patio seating where parents can sit outside with their children. It’s a warm spring day and the patio is filled with dejected hopefuls talking about parts they didn’t get, failed auditions, unruly managers. The hostess seats us at a table at the very end of the patio next to a gate and the door where servers rush in and out.

  Mom whips out a cigarette and lights it between her shaking fingers. In the middle of the hipsters on the patio, Mom is out of place in her eighties suit and her eight-year-old daughter.

  The waiter looks like a high school student suffering through a day of torture. “Get you something to drink?” Mom looks over the menu. She can’t make up her mind. “It’s happy hour,” the waiter offers. He picks up a card in the middle of the table and hands it to mom. I can see ½ Off Drinks From 3 – 7 across the top.

  “Oh great, okay, how about a lemon drop martini? And she’ll take a regular lemonade and a plate of appetizers from the menu.”

  The waiter walks away and Mom is satisfied with the order. She lights another cigarette. The wind catches the smoke and blows it in my face. It burns the inside of my nose. A couple of minutes later, the waiter brings our drinks out to us. Mom takes a couple of sips. The day melts away. Mom takes off her jacket and undoes the top couple of buttons on her blouse. It’s been so long since Mom’s been out. It’s like she forgets I’m there.

  A group of guys sitting on the other side of the patio keep looking our direction. Mom doesn’t notice them. The waiter brings our food and Mom orders a second drink. She’s lost in her own world.

  “Lynette?”

  Mom looks up and recognition crosses her face. Goosebumps rise all over my body. It’s the guy. The guy I’ve been watching out for. The guy Mom left with to go to the hotel. And Lisa gave me instructions to make sure it didn’t happen.

  “Greg!” She stands up and hugs him. He holds on a little longer than necessary. Then he plants a kiss on each of her cheeks. It’s all very LA. “God, it’s been so long. It’s been…” Mom looks at me like she just then remembers I’m there.

  He says, “Since before Farrah was born. Last time was during Taxi Driver. How have you been?”

  “Wonderful,” Mom lies.

  “Still acting? I haven’t seen you forever. I guess everything changes once you have a kid, huh?”

  I want to disappear. To slip through a crack in the sidewalk or a vortex to take me back to the presence. I ruined Mom’s career. But I have to stay. I have to keep Mom away from the hotel.

  “You know
I took some time off to be with Farrah, but now that she’s getting older I’m getting back into things. I went to an audition yesterday. I can’t wait to start acting again.”

  “That’s great…” He looks back to his table. “Do you want to come join us? It’s been so long. There’s like a million things we can catch up on. Maybe we can get your kid a separate table and some crayons or something.”

  Mom looks at me and for a flash of a second I think she’ll say “no”. But this is one of her Hollywood friends. And all mom ever wanted was Hollywood.

  “Sure, we’d love to join you.”

  Greg has the waiter pull up a separate table for me with crayons and a kid’s menu to color on. Crayons are for babies. But Mom is talking to her friends. So I color and listen in on them talking. All I have to do is make sure Mom doesn’t go to the hotel. If she doesn’t end up at the hotel she’ll have a different ending. She deserves a different ending.

  They order another round of drinks. By now I’ve colored everything on the menu. I listen to Mom’s lies about her career. She won’t tell them she’s an out of work actress. This is the life she always wanted.

  Greg’s an actor in one of those soap operas Mom watches during the day. He lives on Sunset Blvd. and he’s having a party the South Beverly Hotel.

  “I could have Bill come pick up Farrah.” Mom glances over at me. A look of guilt crosses her face. “If I could just use your phone.” Mom’s voice is small when she says it. She can’t afford a cellular phone.

  Greg hands her his phone and she walks to the other side of the gate to call Dad. I hear her voice. For once, she sounds excited. It’s a long conversation. I know Dad said “no” but she tries to talk him into it anyway.

  Mom returns with a smile on her face. “Bill will be here for Farrah as soon as he fights his way through traffic.

  “Mom?” She looks at me for the first time. “Can we just go home?”

  “Dad’s on his way.” She looks back at me, annoyed. I hate pushing her.

  “Why can’t we just go?”

  Greg gives me one of those looks you give when you don’t have any kids. I don’t care. He doesn’t know what will happen.

  “Farrah, don’t use that tone.”

  “But … Please? Let’s just go. I have … a stomach ache.”

  “Dad will be here in a few.”

  “But I’m sick –”

  “Farrah–Kate! You were fine a few minutes ago!”

  “Mom!”

  She leans down and whispers in my ear. “These people know people. I need to get back to work and maybe they can help me. Be good!” Then she goes into the restaurant and returns with another menu for me to color. “Here, do this while we wait for Dad.”

  She returns to the table.

  ***

  I color the front and the back and fake puking sounds that Mom ignores. Greg flashes me a few curious gazes and then returns his attention to Mom. In the time we’re waiting, she smokes three more cigarettes and has another martini.

  Dad walks out to the patio in khaki pants and an untucked white t-shirt. He glances at Mom and pulls up a chair across from where I’m sitting.

  “What’s going on, Farrah?”

  “Nothing. I want to go home and I want Mom to come too.”

  He looks at Mom. She’s still talking to Greg. “Okay, I’ll talk to her.’

  He walks over to her and grabs her arm. Mom pulls it away and they walk away from the patio. They’re arguing. Mom’s waving her hands in the air. Acting was always more important. It was all she ever wanted.

  After an eternity, Dad returns.

  “Let’s go, Farrah.”

  “Dad.”

  “Come on, Farrah.”

  “Mom?”

  “I’ll be home later, Farrah.”

  I don’t get up. Dad’s waiting. Tears fill my eyes. Dad gives me a strange look.

  “Mom, please? Will you come with us?”

  Her face softens, but it’s not enough. “Later, Farrah, I’ll be home later. I promise.”

  Dad grabs my hand and pulls me away.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Farrah–Kate

  Mom jumped from a window of the South Beverly Hotel at 12:31 AM. Dad puts me to bed at 10:00 PM. At 10:15 the lights go out. The house is quiet. I wait until 10:30 before I get out of bed. I hid a flashlight under my bed along with a hundred dollars in cash that I took from under Mom and Dad’s mattress.

  My past is changing. That night I went right to sleep. But this night is different. I flash the light over my clothes and pull out jeans and a sweater. The evenings are still chilly and I have a long way to go.

  I open the door as quietly as I can and look down the hall towards Dad’s room. The lights are out. The sound of snoring drifts down the hall. I walk across the living room and out the front door.

  ***

  The streets are quiet. I walk to the bus stop with my head down. Cars pass by. No one stops. I sit on a bench at a deserted bus stop. I hope no one calls the cops.

  The bus driver gives me a curious look when he opens the door. I put a dollar in the machine and walk to the back. The bus is almost deserted. A woman hums to herself. There’s a pile of plastic bags in her lap. She looks up at me as I pass.

  The bus bounces along the road. I sit in my seat with my head down until my stop. When I get off the woman smiles at me when I pass.

  “It’ll be okay, dear. You do what you need to do. Whatever it is, you’ll be successful. Just believe.”

  I stop and look at her. She’s missing three teeth. She gives me a big smile.

  And then I walk off the bus.

  ***

  A clock in the lobby says it’s 11:59 PM. The bus ride took longer than I expected. I’m almost late.

  I know Mom jumped from the rooftop. I also know I don’t want anyone to see me.

  A guy and a girl in the South Beverly Hotel uniform stand behind the counter. Neither of them looks at me. Maybe I’m stuck in a time warp and I’m invisible. Or maybe they just don’t care.

  There’s a guard by the elevators. I keep my eyes down and turn around. I need to get up to the rooftop.

  I head straight to the elevator without looking anyone and press the up arrow. The security guard stares at me. I feel his eyes on my back.

  I don’t dare move. If I make eye contact with him he’ll call the cops and report me.

  But I pretend like I belong. Like I’m a hotel guest just returning to my room, back to where my parents are, like I totally belong here.

  The elevator dings, the door opens up and I step inside without anyone saying a word.

  ***

  The elevator doesn’t go to the rooftop. Instead I get off on the top floor. The sound of music is deafening. Anyone trying to sleep would call the cops.

  But the South Beverly is a party hotel and industry people only come here for one reason.

  I follow the sound of the noise to a door that says ‘Exit’ in glowing red letters. I turn the handle, expecting it to be locked – and it turns with no problems. Now the music gets even louder.

  A clock in the hallway says it’s 12:15 AM. It’s almost time. I hope the wheels of time haven’t already started.

  I slink against the wall, trying to stay invisible in the shadows. A couple comes down the stairs: a wobbly woman in the arms of a man who’s pulling her along. She laughs at something he says.

  She sees me in the hallway. “Are you lost, sweetie?” She stops and examines me in the shadows. I cower against the wall and don’t answer. “You don’t want to go up there; you don’t want to see what’s going on.”

  “I’m looking for someone,” I whisper.

  “You won’t find what you’re looking for up there. It’s just a bunch of drugged out Hollywood wannabes. Where are you parents? You should let me call security so you can go back to your room.”

  “No, don’t do that –”

  She gives me a skeptical look. “Okay, suit yourself.”

&
nbsp; Then the couple walks down the stairs and disappear into the dark.

  ***

  The rooftop is just the way the woman described. Everyone on top is laughing at their own jokes. Bodies sway in the glow of the lights. The air smells like smoke – and it’s not cigarette smoke, either.

  I hear her before I see her. She’s in the corner half crying and half yelling at a guy who is twice her size.

  And she’s leaning against a railing.

  Too close to the edge.

  “Mom!”

  I can’t help myself. I know I should be calmer but this is how it happened. She tumbled over the edge to the sidewalk below. No one could say if it was an accident or on purpose. Now that I can see how out of it everyone is, I can understand way.

  One of her hands clutches the rail. The other holds a martini glass, liquid sloshing around inside it. Her mascara has dripped down her cheeks. The guy has his hand on her waist and is telling her something. She’s shaking her head violently back and forth. Her whole body sways with her. It’s a wonder she hasn’t already tumbled over.

  “Mom!”

  I run her direction. She doesn’t see me. She doesn’t hear me. I’m not sure she sees or hears anything but the man standing in front of her.

  “Look, Lynette. I can help you get a part. I just need you to come back to my room so you can look at the script. You can do a reading for me.”

  “I don’t … I don’t do those kind of movies.” Her voice is a whisper.

  “Lynette, that’s all that’s left, and you barely have that. If you come back to the room I can see what you’ve got. But if you don’t, I’m afraid all the doors will be closed for you.” He puts his hand on her shoulder and she moves closer to the rail.

  “I …”

  “You should come with me, Lynette; it’s your only chance. You’re too old for anything else. The only women getting parts at your age are on the A-Lister. Everyone else is doing my films.”

  “I don’t …”

  He reaches over to grab her arm and she leans against the rail.