Monsters

by Liz Kay

  “Hi,” Ben says. He takes his plate from Jenny and holds it in both hands. He looks up at me. “Can we eat in the playhouse?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Crumbs and ants.”

  Ben rolls his eyes and heads for the picnic table.

  “What kind of doctor are you?” Stevie says.

  “Oh, uh, I help people with allergies.”

  Stevie frowns.

  “He means hospital or school,” I say. “Dr. Keller is a medical doctor, sweetie.”

  “But you can call me Phillip,” he says again.

  “Okay,” Stevie says as Jenny hands him his plate.

  Phillip stands back up. “I think that’s one of the first things you asked me too.”

  “We need to know if you can perform CPR or you just really know your way around a library.”

  “And the library’s more important,” he says.

  “Obviously.”

  Jenny gets her three settled at the table and comes back to stand by us. “So I have been bugging Stacey for the longest time about bringing you over,” she says to Phillip.

  “Great,” he says. “No pressure then?”

  “Actually, I have this rash,” Todd says, turning half around. “Maybe you’ve got an ointment or something?”

  “He’s joking,” I say.

  Todd’s trying, but he can’t keep a straight face. “It’s on my ass. You want to look at it?”

  “Oh my god, you are such an embarrassment.” Jenny smacks him on the arm.

  Phillip laughs and takes a sip of his beer. “That’s not really my specialty,” he says. “But I’ll get you a referral.”

  When we leave, Jenny hugs me, and she whispers in my ear. “I love him,” she says. “He fits right in.”

  OCTOBER

  I’M IN THE PICK-UP LINE in front of the boys’ school when the phone rings.

  “Come to New York with me next week,” Sarah says. “John’s busy, and I hate traveling alone.” Some movie she shot last year is coming out, and she has to do the morning and late-night shows.

  “I can’t,” I say. “I just got home. I had that conference in Chicago.”

  It was nothing, like a fifty-minute panel, and I barely even had to talk, but then Tommy wanted to take me to dinner and buy me drinks and kiss in the elevator, and after two nights of that, I felt completely unwound. Though it’s not the nights, really, that get to me. It’s the mornings, how the mornings drift into afternoons. What’s with you? he said. You’re so fucking down. And I shrugged and said, I don’t know. Maybe I’m feeling guilty? But Tommy didn’t really want to hear it. He laughed after a minute though, and he said, You should, you know. I hope you feel like shit.

  Sarah sighs. “I love that you’ll go places with Tommy, but not with me. Come on, Stacey. It’s just for a few days.”

  “I would, really, but I’ve got parent-teacher conferences next week.”

  I have a feeling I’m going to be hearing a lot of concerns. Last week Ben’s teacher emailed to ask if I’d gotten her notes about his missing assignments. I haven’t seen any of these notes in his backpack, but Ben swears he didn’t throw them away.

  Sarah makes this annoyed groan. “Now I’m just going to feel stressed-out.”

  “Pack your Xanax,” I say, and she says, “I was going to.”

  I hear the bell ring and turn to watch the kids filing out of the building. Stevie’s classroom is toward the front of the school, so he’s always in the first group. When he spots the car, he waves.

  “Well, maybe I’ll just stop on the way back to see you.”

  Sarah here? I think that could be a mess. But I say, “I would love it.”

  “And then I can meet this Phillip,” she says. “We’ll have dinner.”

  I think about Phillip in the room with Sarah’s big mouth, and I say, “No fucking way.”

  • • •

  The conferences are even worse than I expected. Stevie, it turns out, has drawn a family portrait that is mostly just him and Ben and Jenny. There’s an arrow pointing to the house that reads, Mommy.

  “When I asked him who was in the picture, he added that label. He said you were inside,” his teacher says, and she gives me this concerned look. At least he didn’t draw Michael floating over everyone in the sky.

  Ben is not drawing pictures, but he is failing math. Of course he is, I want to say. I can barely count. How am I supposed to help with his homework?

  • • •

  When I get home, I call Tommy, and I say, “I think I broke my kids.”

  “This doesn’t surprise me, honey. You are determined to break shit.”

  “I’m being serious,” I say, and I tell him about the picture, the math.

  “Who needs math?” Tommy says. “We’ll hire someone to do his math. It’s not like he wants to be an architect.” He wants to be a football player, and Tommy knows this. Neither of us believes it will work out. The kid is as scared of the ball as he is of the other players, but he reads a lot of football books, and they seem to make him happy.

  I sit on the edge of the couch, fold my body down against my knees. “And what about Stevie?” I say. “With the unavailable mother?”

  “You’re not unavailable. You’re just trying to figure things out. But how lucky is he that he has Jenny? That’s the thing about family, Stace. It means you don’t have just one person to lean on. He’s fine. I promise. Honestly, that picture says more about you.”

  “Great. That’s just perfect.”

  “What? We already knew you were a mess. This sounds like good news.”

  • • •

  I offer to pick Sarah up at the airport, but it’s a charter flight, and she says it’s just as easy for them to send a car. She’ll meet me at the hotel, she says. She’s only staying the night. I almost don’t recognize her when I walk in. She’s known for her long blond hair, but she’s spun it up into this messy bun. And she’s got glasses on. I don’t think she needs them. She’s wearing jeans and a loose beige sweater. She’s still beautiful though. She has to work hard to dull it down.

  She jumps up and runs over to hug me, and she says, “Stacey, hi!” but she does not use her bell voice. She’s almost doing an accent. I can’t quite place it, but it’s definitely not her.

  “Jesus, do people ever recognize you?”

  She shakes her head. “Only in L.A. No one would think to look for me here.”

  “How do you feel about sushi?” I say. “There’s a place close by. We can walk.”

  She squints behind the glasses. “Fish in the middle of the country? Is that even safe?”

  “How would I know?” I say. “I don’t eat fish.”

  She laughs and says, “Let’s do it.”

  We walk arm in arm to the restaurant. “I talked to Tommy this morning,” she says. “He said to tell you hi.”

  “Oh?” I say. “How is he?”

  She sighs. “I don’t know. He seems particularly gloomy. I guess he tends to get like this when a project is winding down. I don’t know that he has anything new lined up. John sent him the script for this action movie he’s involved with, but Tommy turned it down.”

  “That was John’s?” I say, and Sarah frowns.

  “Tommy tell you about it?”

  “He mentioned it, yeah. In Chicago.”

  I’m not going to say that I spent Saturday morning reading the script in Tommy’s bed. This isn’t very good, I said. He was just coming out of the shower, and he crawled in beside me, laid his head on my stomach, and said, Yeah, I know.

  • • •

  I call Jenny in the morning. “Why don’t you guys come for dinner?”

  She seems surprised.

  “Are you inviting Phillip?” she says, and she’s got that lilt in her voice.

  “I don’t think so,” I say. “But I’ll make something good. I’ll make that Tuscan bean soup.” It’s cold. It’s good soup weather, and I know it’s one of Todd’s favorites.

  “Okay,” sh
e says, “yeah. I’ll bring the wine.” And I think, Perfect, because I’ve drunk all mine. I don’t want to have to go to the store.

  • • •

  The kids run downstairs to the playroom. They’ve got a new video game, and they want to show it off. The soup is ready, but I’ve just stuck the whole pot in the oven to keep it warm. The kids need time to burn off some energy, and I need a glass of wine to settle my nerves.

  “Open this?” I say to Todd, and I hand him the wine and nod toward the shelf where the corkscrew is.

  “Sure,” he says. “Shit, that’s an expensive bottle of scotch.”

  “Help yourself,” I say.

  “No, I’d be afraid to. That’s like liquid gold.”

  I grab the bottle and an orange-juice glass and pour a healthy ounce or two. “It’s like drinking lighter fluid,” I say. “Seriously, I don’t want it.”

  “Really?” Todd says, and I can tell he really wants to try it, so I push it into his hand. “But first,” I say, “open that wine.”

  We sit in the living room, and I try to look relaxed. I’m all twisted up though. My spine is in knots. I take a swig of the wine. I hope it helps.

  “What’s the matter?” Jenny says, and I just smile, shake my head. “I’m fine,” I say.

  “This scotch is really something.”

  I turn toward Todd. “I know, right? I don’t really like the taste of it, but it packs a punch.”

  “Where’d you even find it?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Tommy sent it.”

  “Oh shit, this is a gift?” Todd looks back at the glass like it makes him uncomfortable.

  “No, really, it’s more like a joke.” I wave my hand like, It’s nothing, because to Tommy it really isn’t. It’s no big deal.

  “That’s a hell of a gag gift,” Jenny says.

  “More like a white elephant. I gave myself a pretty nasty scotch hangover. Tommy thinks he’s hilarious.”

  Jenny frowns a little. I don’t love her expression.

  I take a deep breath because I’m trying to work up to something. “Stevie drew a picture of his family in school, and he forgot to put me in it.”

  “What?” she says, and she scoots forward a little on the couch.

  “Yup,” I say. “It’s him and Ben, and you can tell it’s Ben because he’s holding a football, and you, and you’re smiling, and then there’s a house in the background, and I guess he forgot to draw me because he just drew an arrow and said, ‘Mommy’s inside.’”

  Todd says, “Shit,” and I just look at him like, Yeah, but Jenny scoots over to hug me.

  “It’s just ’cause they’re spending so much time at our house. I bet it doesn’t mean anything.”

  “I don’t know,” I say. Jenny looks like she feels a little guilty, so I hug her back, and I say, “I’m not mad or anything, I’m just worried.”

  “I think the boys are doing fine,” Todd says. “I bet it’s just all the traveling you do.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Tommy said. Actually, he said, ‘You’re a disaster, Stace, but your kids seem fine.’”

  “What does Phillip think?” Jenny asks.

  “I don’t really talk to Phillip about the boys.” Jenny gets this look on her face like she just caught me in a lie or something, and I say, “I’m serious, Jen. I’m not ready for someone to get all involved with my kids.”

  “Okay. Okay,” she says. She puts her hand up like she’s actually going to be willing to drop it.

  “I should probably call them up for dinner,” I say. Tomorrow’s a school day. They can’t stay up all night.

  NOVEMBER

  OMAHA HAS this little film festival in November, and Tommy wants to come. The movie won’t be released until December, but he says he’ll bring a trailer, and we’ll do some kind of Q&A.

  “You don’t want to come to Omaha,” I’d said when he first brought it up. I mean, it’s more of an arts town. It’s nothing like L.A.

  He didn’t listen of course, and now I have an envelope in my hands with extra passes for Jenny and Todd, and I feel like this is a collision I can’t let happen. I can already see everything spiraling out. What about Phillip? she’ll say. Why don’t we bring Phillip?

  “I just got the schedule,” I say when I call her, “for this festival thing. I don’t think you want to come.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to have to be there for like ten hours and Tommy’s actually got all these press calls scheduled that he’ll be doing from the hotel room, so I’m just going to be hanging around waiting and then there’s a short little Q&A and I don’t know if we’ll even have time for dinner or anything. I mean, you might get to meet Tommy, but probably not.”

  Bring your sister, he said. I have a lot of questions.

  “I’m not coming for Tommy. I’m coming for you.”

  “Okay, but I won’t even see you. I mean, I won’t even know you’re there.”

  “You sound like you don’t want me there.”

  “No. That’s not … I mean, I have the passes right here, and if you think it would be fun, then totally, you should go to the festival. I’m just saying, it doesn’t really seem like something Todd would enjoy, but I’ll give you the passes and if there’s anything that sounds cool, you should go to it. You just probably won’t get to see me much, so don’t go as a favor to me. It’s fine though. I can get a babysitter.”

  She sighs. “Don’t get a sitter,” she says. “They can spend the night at our house.”

  • • •

  I walk into the hotel just after noon, and Daniel’s waiting for me in the lobby. He’s sitting on the couch, and he’s got a pile of things stacked beside him. He jumps to his feet and hugs me, gripping my shoulders, pressing his cheek against my cheek. “Look what I have!” he says, pointing back. “Posters!”

  He picks one up and unrolls it, turning it toward me. “This one is my favorite.” It’s Sarah, surrounded by shadows, and behind her is Tommy, but his eyes look cruel. “Someone from the festival is meeting me to get them. I should have sent them ahead, but the first batch were a mess. Fucking printers.” He throws his hands up. “Anyway, I’ll text Tommy. Tell him to meet us in the bar.”

  I glance over at the entrance, and it’s not packed, but it’s not exactly empty. I feel like it’s a bad idea. I feel like Tommy appearing is going to cause a scene. But my nerves are on edge already and a drink sounds good.

  Daniel seems to guess what I’m thinking. He pats my arm. “We can always leave. It’s tonight you’re gonna have to get ready for. Tonight’s going to be a mob.”

  • • •

  The trailer is spectacular. I haven’t seen a clip since the rough cut, and this is completely new. It is not my book. It’s something bigger, something more.

  “How did you do that?” I whisper to Tommy, and he says, “Don’t insult me. I promised you, didn’t I?”

  He’s leaning close as he says this, his hand high on my back, tucked under my hair. I want to turn toward him, to ask, Did you make that for me? But then the lights come up, and I remember who I am and where we are. I remember everything.

  I shift away. “I know people here,” I say, under my breath.

  • • •

  It’s late for dinner, but Tommy’s hungry, and I haven’t eaten all day. Daniel slips into a pub not far from the hotel and makes arrangements for a table in the back. It barely matters. Tommy is coming off six straight hours of adoration, and he can’t seem to wipe it off. It’s impossible not to look at him.

  It’s hard to order because the waitress is so busy fussing over Tommy. She’s apparently seen everything he’s ever done, even some seriously obscure shit, but we finally get our order in, and of course she comps it. I know Tommy’s going to leave her some ridiculous tip.

  I order a carrot dog, with no bun, and when she brings it, Daniel says, “Jesus, honey, what is that?” and Tommy wrinkles his nose.

  “It’s like a hot dog,” I say. “They b
rine it.” It comes with sauerkraut, which I like, and it goes well with vodka.

  Tommy reaches across with his fork and takes a bite. He makes a face. He says, “That’s not a hot dog.”

  I say, “Jesus, help yourself.” And he says, “What? It’s not like you were going to finish it.”

  And then we both look up because it’s like we can feel someone walking toward us, and Tommy puts on his I’d love to give you an autograph face, but this time, it is not a pretty twenty-year-old girl. This time it’s Phillip. Of course. He lives three blocks from here. It makes sense.

  He says, “Stacey?” and I stand up and hug him. “Phillip,” I say, and I try to sound happy. “Hi!”

  Tommy says, “Oh shit, you’re Phillip?” and he stands up and grabs him by the arm. “Hey, I’ve heard so much about you, man, good to meet you.” He smiles a little wider than I’d like.

  “And this is Daniel,” I say, pointing to Daniel because I want him to not look at Tommy. Daniel waves. “And they are both in town for the film festival I was telling you about,” I say, “which is totally exciting.” I did tell him. I just neglected to mention Tommy.

  Then our waitress comes back, and she’s found someone to take a picture of her with Tommy, and Tommy says, “Of course,” and steps away.

  “I didn’t realize you two were close,” Phillip says kind of quietly.

  I cross my arms over my chest. I say, “Tommy? Oh yeah, we’re friends,” and I give Phillip this really nice smile like, Didn’t I mention that? But then Tommy comes back and as he walks behind me, he rests his hand on my back, and I can see that Phillip notices.

  “Sorry,” Tommy says. “It’s like you really don’t have any fucking celebrities around here.”

  “Just Buffett,” I say, and Tommy laughs. He sits back down and says to Phillip, “Pull up a chair.”

  What do you think you’re doing? I think, but I can’t say anything. I can’t even say it with my eyes. Phillip is watching me way too closely.

  “I’m with people,” Phillip says. “We were just leaving,” and he leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll call you later.”

  When he leaves, Tommy says, “Jesus, that poor bastard.” He smiles though. He seems kind of happy about it.