by Liz Kay
• • •
After, Tommy spoons himself against me, presses his lips over and over into my hair, and I let him.
Next week is my anniversary. The second since the last. Michael had taken me to dinner. The usual place. I’d had three glasses of wine and when I’d ordered the third, he’d raised his eyebrow, said, “Really?” but that was it. Back home, as I was getting undressed, he’d come up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, brushed his lips across my shoulders.
“Sometimes,” he’d whispered, “I think you don’t really love me. I think you just love how much I love you.”
And I said, “Of course I love you.”
• • •
Sadie comes down as usual in the morning, but her eyes are red and swollen. Tommy’s already been up talking to her. He went up the stairs at six o’clock, almost the minute that my alarm went off. I don’t know if he woke her or just sat by her bed waiting. He’d looked pretty wrecked when he came back down, but he just poured himself some coffee, sat down at the counter with his paper. I felt like it was best to stay out of his way, but Sadie is different. She’s just a little girl.
“Oh, honey,” I say, wrapping my arms around her. “You know what? I don’t think you should go to school today.”
“What?” Tommy says behind me. I hear him set down his paper.
“Look at her. Her eyes are practically swollen shut. What are people going to say?” I turn around to face him, but I keep one arm around Sadie.
“You worry too much about what people say.” He turns back to his paper.
“Maybe you don’t worry enough.”
“She’s not your kid, and she’s not missing school.”
He says this so cold and low it makes my breath catch in my throat. I think about backing down, but then I feel Sadie’s shoulders spasm inside my arm as she starts to cry.
“She can,” I say. “She can miss one day. She can lie on the couch with a mask on her eyes for one day.”
He looks up at me, his eyes narrow, and I think, You owe me, you owe me, you fucking owe me, and I let it show in my face.
It takes longer than I expected.
“Fine,” he says. He stands up and walks to her, pulls her out of my arm and into his, and he rests his chin on her head. “Your mom home today?” he asks, and she nods. “I’m sending you back there. I don’t want you staying here alone all day.”
• • •
“I don’t appreciate the interference,” he says after about five minutes of brutally cold silence punctuated only by aggressive shifting. He’s going to break something the way he keeps slamming the car into gear.
“Sorry,” I say. I’m not though, I’m not sorry at all, and I think it’s ridiculous that I’m the one apologizing.
“That’s it?” he says. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”
“What do you want me to say? She’s having a hard time. I think you need to be a little gentler with her.”
He grunts. “Well, I guess you’re the expert on abortion, aren’t you?”
I don’t even answer him. I just lean my head against the window. I should have expected this. I should never have told him.
“I guess I should ask, have you had an abortion lately?”
I turn to look at him, and then I just turn back, study the houses we’re driving past. He slows down and pulls the car over to the side of the road.
“Would you?” he says. “Would you just take care of it and not even tell me?”
“Probably,” I say.
He grabs my arm and jerks me away from the door. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Fuck, I don’t know!” I pull away from him and rub my arm, though it doesn’t hurt as much as I’m letting on. “You know this isn’t fucking about me, Tommy.”
He takes my face in both hands and pulls me toward him. He doesn’t kiss me. He just leans his head against mine. “I think I’m losing my shit,” he says, and I say, “I know.”
• • •
I spend as much of the day as I can reading on the couch in Sarah’s trailer because Tommy’s realization that he’s falling apart has done nothing to soften his mood. Even Jason seems a little afraid of him.
“Jesus, what is Tommy’s problem?” Sarah says as she comes in between takes.
I know enough about Sarah not to tell her, so I just make my eyes really big and say, “I know, right? Fucking temper.”
“Is something up with the movie?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think he had any calls this morning, but I wasn’t really paying attention.” I shrug and look back at my book.
“You’re not much of a spy, are you?” Sarah says. “Jesus, it’s so damn hot in here.” She fans herself.
It is hot, but I have this thin sweater on, and I can’t take it off because, thanks to Tommy, I woke up with this purple bruise on the inside of my arm. It doesn’t matter. I bruise pretty easily, but it is hot. “I don’t know,” I say. “I’m kind of cold. Maybe it’s just you.”
• • •
Tommy comes in around two, and when he walks in he says, “Hey.”
I’m lying on the couch with my knees up, the book propped against them. “Hi,” I say, and I close the book but hold my place with my thumb.
“Sarah?” he says.
“Not here. You looking for her?”
“No,” he says. “I’m looking for you.” He sits down on the couch next to me, wraps one arm around my legs and rests his chin on my knee. “Stace,” he says.
I reach up, touch my fingers to his arm. “It’s fine,” I say, and I smile. “I’m used to you being an asshole.” Of course this is different, but it’s so much easier to pretend that it’s not.
“Let me take you to dinner tonight.” He takes my hand, rubs his thumb across my palm. This is in no way the sort of apology that I’m interested in, and my reluctance must show on my face because he says, “Come on, I’ll buy you the most expensive fucking wine.” He starts to hold my hand up to his lips, but then we hear feet on the steps of the trailer, and he lets go and stands up, moves the two steps across the room.
The door opens, and Sarah walks in. “Ugh,” she says, “so many takes,” and then she sees Tommy and says, “Oh, it’s you.” She crosses her arms across her chest. “You come here to yell at people? Because you can get the fuck out.”
“I’m begging forgiveness,” he says, and he holds his arms out to her.
Sarah is easy because her posture softens immediately, and she steps right into him. “What’s the matter, honey?” she says. “Is it the budget again? If you need more money, I’ll call John.”
“No, no,” he says, and he kisses her on the forehead. “It’s home. Sadie. Custody shit.” Which is brilliant really. Close enough to the truth that she won’t ask for more.
“Poor baby,” she says, and she pats him on the arm as she pulls away.
• • •
Tommy manages to drag me out of the trailer for the next hour, but then he gets a call, and I duck away. It’s tedious really. I mean, the first take is cool, but then it’s over, and over, and over, and Jason’s giving people notes, and then let’s do it again. It’s just like this year’s music program at school. Stevie’s and Ben’s grades were back-to-back, and it was the same damn songs, the same stupid routines. But those were only half an hour, so this is so much worse.
I’m afraid it’s Tommy when the door opens, but it’s not, it’s Sarah. I think, Good, I get to stay here, but she says, “Jason’s looking for you,” and I groan.
“Kinda handsy?” she says, and she wrinkles her nose. “I think he’s got a thing for you.”
I laugh. “No. Jason’s fine. He’s a sweetheart. He’s married anyway.”
“In this town, that almost never matters.”
“I just don’t feel like going out there.” I shrug. “But I guess I will.”
• • •
When I turn the corner, there’s Tommy. He’s got his back to me, leaning against t
he wall, talking very close with some young girl. Not an actress though. She’s got a headset hanging around her neck, so she must be on the crew. As she’s talking, very excitedly of course, this strand of hair falls over her eye, and Tommy reaches his hand up, tucks it behind her ear, and his fingers kind of linger against her cheek, and I just think, Jesus fucking Christ. I should have known. Things have been too intense, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that he’d handle it like this. I almost turn around. I’m about to leave, but then there’s Jason from the opposite direction, yelling, “Stacey, I’ve been looking everywhere,” and I have to start walking toward him. Tommy doesn’t move away from the girl. He’s not one to overreact, but he does turn his head toward me, and he looks, I don’t know, caught. I’m not sure how to act natural. It seems stupid to smile, so as I pass him, I hold my arm up, point to my wrist like I’m wearing a watch, and I just say, “What time are we planning on leaving today?” It takes him a second, but he says, “Up to you.” He’s quiet though. I almost don’t hear him.
• • •
At least the place Tommy takes me for dinner is so expensive that everyone here is rich enough to not be easily blown away. He’s not even the only celebrity here, but he is Tommy, so he’s obviously at the top of the list. The downside is that there are photographers absolutely parked out front, which is obnoxious, and super disturbing, but once we’re inside, it’s fine. The wine he orders is insane. It’s very close to the number they quoted us when Michael wanted to send Ben to private school. Clearly, this is an apology wine.
“Shoot is going well,” he says. “I know you think it’s tedious, but everything’s on schedule.” He runs his thumb along the rim of his glass. “Jason’s a perfectionist, you know, so we’ve got extra time built in. I was talking with Amanda about it.” And he raises his eyes to mine to say that I know exactly who he’s talking about. “She works with the script supervisor, you know.”
“Mmm,” I say. “She’s adorable.”
“Isn’t she though?” And he smiles. “Very sweet too. Friendly.” He says friendly with a lot of emphasis, and I’m thinking, You fucking dick, but I say, “Yeah? Just what you like.”
“I do like friendly,” he says, and he takes a drink of his wine. “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”
I laugh, and it’s the kind of laugh I make when I actually want to stand up and leave.
“Because you know, Stace, if it bothered you …”
He reaches across the table and trails his fingers around my wrist. I feel my shoulders tense, and I pull my arm away. I think, Don’t you dare. Not today. Not like this. Because he doesn’t mean it. I know he doesn’t mean it. It’s just more apology, more smoothing things over, more Sorry I’ve been such a dick.
“You know, Tommy, the last thing I want to be right now is the subject of a ‘Tommy DeMarco seen with unknown woman’ story.”
It looked very intimate, an eyewitness will say. The last thing I want to be right now is one more in a string of those stories.
He frowns. “Stace, look. I know you’re mad …” He stretches his arm farther, and I put my hands in my lap.
“Why would I be?” I smile as nicely as I can. “I’m leaving tomorrow, so I get that you have to start making plans for next week.”
“Look at you, honey,” he says, sitting up straight and reaching for his glass. “You’re so understanding.”
FEBRUARY
ALMOST THE MINUTE I got home, I was packing the boys up to spend Christmas at my parents’. It was already hard enough driving home at night to the only house on the block with no lights up. And then it was January, the longest, coldest month of the year, and Phillip called me a couple of times, and we went for coffee twice, and lunch, but it’s all the way into February before we can find a date that works for dinner. Maybe I was stalling.
I drop the boys at my sister’s for the night and head back home to get ready, try on everything in my closet, and finally settle on black jeans, a silk turquoise tank, and a fitted jacket. I have a pair of black stilettos in the back of my closet that I haven’t worn in years, but I’m worried they’re too much for a guy like Phillip. I can’t remember how tall he is. I mean, I remember him as tall, but I also remember him as standing beside Craig, so I can’t be sure. Lately, I don’t feel sure of anything. The phone rings while I’m doing my eyes. No photo, just the little green robot and the number buzzing in. Tommy. We still talk all the time. I thumb it to answer and hit the speaker key.
“Sadie wants me to meet this kid,” he says.
I’m pulling my eyelid, trying to make a straight line. “No way. Bad idea.”
“Yeah, well, she’s bringing him over. She’s on her way.”
“Tommy, you can’t.”
“What do you want me to do, call her? Tell her not to come?”
I look at the clock. Phillip will be here any minute. I don’t have time for this shit.
“I don’t know, Tommy. I think you’re screwed.” I’ve moved on to lipstick, but I think it’s too red. I don’t know. I don’t know how to do any of this. “She won’t believe you if you act like you like him, but you can’t act like a dick either.” I hear him grunt, and I say, “I’m serious, if you come down on this kid, Sadie’s going to want him even more. She’ll be like, ‘My dad’s such an asshole. He doesn’t know what love is. Blah, blah, blah.’ You’re gonna have to play this really cool, really straight.”
“Yeah, that’ll be easy.”
“You’re the actor. She wants to see what’ll happen when she puts you two together, and you’ve got to give her nothing. You’ve got to be dull as shit.”
He laughs. “I don’t really do dull.”
“Yeah well, tonight you do.” I slip the shoes back on and look in the mirror. My hair is too big, and I think I have too much eye shadow on, and I just feel too old for this. “Look, I’ve got to go,” I say. “I have a date.”
“A what?”
“A date.”
“Like a date date?” He sounds incredulous. Like he’s made any effort to see me in the past eight weeks. I wonder how long he expected me to wait.
“Jesus. Yes. A date.”
He’s quiet for a second. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”
Exactly, I think. That’s the whole fucking problem, isn’t it? Though I obviously can’t say that.
“You don’t get to feel anything about it, Tommy. It has nothing to do with you.”
Then the doorbell rings, and the dog is barking, and my hair really is too big, and I say, “I’ve got to go.” I hit end call, and I rush down the stairs to the front door and shove Bear out of the way with my knee. When I open the door, there’s Phillip, and he has a bottle of wine from the auction, and when he steps in the house, he is tall enough and he looks totally, totally sweet.
• • •
He takes me for sushi, which is perfect. I have a seaweed salad, this vegetarian roll with sweet potato and olive oil, not exactly authentic, but whatever, and besides I think the whole chopsticks thing is sexy. And there’s sake, lots of it, and it’s totally warming me up. Halfway through, I slip the jacket off and swing it over the back of my chair, and when I turn back around, Phillip’s eyes are all over me, and I think, Oh, I’ve got this, and from then on I feel absolutely fine.
I wait until dinner’s over to check my phone. I’ve been really good, completely attentive, totally there, but the text from Tommy just reads, Fucking nightmare, and I feel like I want to call him right away.
“We could walk up the street, grab another drink?” Phillip suggests as we stand up. He holds my jacket and slips it up over my arms.
“Yeah, yes, I would love to,” I say, but I hold my phone up apologetically. “I just have to make a quick call about this. Kids.” I didn’t technically say my kids, so I feel good about not lying.
“Sure. Of course. I’ll just wait.” He indicates the doorway like he’s going to stand out in the entryway, and I say, “Great, I’ll just be a minute,” an
d walk back to the hallway by the bathrooms.
“What happened?” I say when Tommy picks up. He sounds a little drunk.
“This kid is an asshole, a total piece of shit.”
“Tommy, what did you do? Jesus, you didn’t hit him?”
“I didn’t hit him.” He sighs. “I threw him out of the house.”
“Goddamn it.” I lean against the wall, push the toe of my shoe against the baseboard, try to focus on that and not the sound of Tommy’s voice.
“He’s eighteen, Stacey. He’s way older than she is. I mean, this is statutory rape, isn’t it? I should press charges.”
“Tommy, come on, you can’t press charges. This is her boyfriend. She’ll hate you.”
“She hates me already to do this shit to me.” He pauses. I can hear him drinking. Even over the phone he sounds sloppy. “Fucking punk-ass piece of shit. You should have seen it. He’s got his hands on her the whole time, and not like he’s being sweet with her. It’s like he owns her. In my goddamn house.” He’s starting to yell, and I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “This little piece of shit comes in my house and puts his fucking hands on my daughter.”
I let the side of my head rest for a second against the wall, but then I remember where I am, and it just seems kind of disgusting.
“So I told him to get out.”
“What did Sadie do?”
“She was crying, and he said, ‘Sadie, we’re going,’ and I said, ‘Fuck you, she’s not going anywhere, and if you talk to my daughter that way again, if you come in my house and talk to her like that, if you fucking touch her, I’ll cut off your dick.’”
“Jesus, Tommy.”
“And then I threw him out.”
And here I am standing in a restroom hallway with the light above me flickering, and my feet hurt, and Phillip is out front waiting for me, and I don’t know how to end the call. I don’t know how to let go, so I just say, “God, Tommy, I don’t know what to say, but I know it’s not good.”