by Ames, Alex
“Awesome! Don’t have any other word for them. They are fun, they are inspiring, and they took me gracefully into their midst.”
“Louise, how is it to get an instant family?”
“Pretty convenient. All the benefits without the stretch marks.”
seventeen
The Mall Incident
Rick
The school year came to an end mid-June, and the summer holidays were stretching ahead. For Agnes and Britta, this meant fun time, spending endless hours hanging out with their friends at the beach or in the mall, working part-time to earn some money. Britta landed her first babysitter jobs in the neighborhood, and Agnes had taken a temp job at the marketing agency that handled web design for various local enterprises. For Charles the summer meant undisturbed time reading, experimenting at home, or going to Oxnard Science Club events. For little Dana, not much changed at all—she still went to day care.
Louise was on a trip somewhere on the planet to promote a science fiction movie that had been shot over one year ago, and Rick ended the last day of school on the couch, watching Jimmy Fallon to come down from the daily events. Agnes came into the room; earlier in the evening, she’d go to an introductory barbecue at the home of the agency founder to meet some of her new colleagues.
“Hey, how was it?” greeted Rick from the sofa.
Agnes flopped down beside her father and gave him a kiss. “Very nice people. A bit intense, as you always feel that they are trying to sell themselves too hard. But that is marketing, right?”
“Don’t expect an answer from me, being owner of a company with marketing and sales problems.”
“Actually, I talked about that with some people, and they came up with some ideas how to advertise your services better.”
“Not tonight; I am beat from the week,” Rick said and yawned.
“Sure, no worries.”
“Tomorrow let’s go through the college brochures and come up with a plan,” Rick proposed. “I’d like to get the process going over summer so that we don’t get into trouble later this year. Prep a trip for West Coast and East Coast colleges.”
Agnes didn’t look too enthusiastic.
“What’s the matter? College anxiety?”
“Not anxiety. More like lack of motivation. I know that you went to college, and Mom, too. But right now I’m having a hard time picking a major that will somehow determine what I will do the rest of my life. Look at yourself. You own a business and are a great boat designer. But what of the stuff you learned at college was actually of help to you achieving your goal?”
Rick looked at Agnes and thought back at his college time. “You are right, I admit it: not much. But I had a great time figuring out what I didn’t want.”
“What was your major?”
“Don’t laugh: liberal arts and English,” Rick said. “Don’t ask me anything about art. But during my freshman and sophomore years, I had already scratched off a lot of the stuff that I had sat through. I knew I would never become a scientist. Math was out of the question, although I need a lot of it right now when I do my boat designs. You know, the tonnage and volume calculations. I liked English enough to read a lot of the required stuff and beyond. And economics was also not for me, as I found out. So I selected some sort of lesser evil.”
“And still ended up in Maine to cut trees into boats.”
“Yeah. That’s the thing. I liked sailing, I liked fixing things, I liked to see the result at the end of the workday. That doesn’t happen in many professions, where the fruit of your labor either can’t be seen for years or sits somewhere buried within the layers of a corporate hierarchy. Some may call this a handyman mentality, but that is what I like. Plus, I had Hal to kick my butt to get into business with him.”
“Maybe I’ve inherited this gene? I like to see concrete results.”
“You won’t know in advance, will you?” Rick yawned again. “Go through college and pick topics that sound interesting and see wherever they lead you. You’re temping in marketing this summer, so you’ll get some ideas about advertising, products, clients, and company life. That’s one step. College will give you a lot of insight and further ideas. And most importantly, you’ll have a lot of fun.”
“Let’s see what the material says,” Agnes agreed finally. “Though right now I feel that my going to college will be a waste of money for us.”
“Don’t worry about the money—with the marks you brought home today, you should be eligible for full scholarships. And I am sure, you will not see it as paid vacations.”
“But that’s the point. I don’t want to have a free ride and four years of an education that doesn’t matter to me. I want to make an impact in this world. Create a company, run a NGO, go into politics or activism.”
“But even for those types of jobs you usually need a formal education.”
“Bill Gates and Steve Jobs quit school, you know.”
“With a focus on quit. Meaning they went to college first and dropped out when they founded their companies.”
Agnes cocked her head. “You have answers to everything?”
Rick nodded his head. “I do, I am your father.”
In the morning Rick Skyped Louise, who stole away for a lunch call from her press junket in whatever European city she was in. She looked like a million dollars, even on the pixelated screen.
“Man, these guys are killing me. Our epic time traveler tale does not interest anyone, it seems. Almost all questions are about ‘the new Louise’ and what it feels to be a housewife.”
“And you’re explaining to them that Windex saved your life when it came to cleaning the shower?”
“I almost told them, ‘Go ask any housewife on the street.’ Well, as long as it sells tickets, everyone’s happy. What’s up on your end?”
“All ready for the summer holiday. Agnes was moody last night. She’s somehow convinced that college is not for her and a waste of time. Wants to change the world faster than in four years.”
“So, give her time. Let her join the Peace Corps, volunteer for a while, find her own rhythm. Not everyone fits the same mold. You went to college, did the regular thing. But look at me—I never even for a second considered college. I had my mission to become an actress and to escape my past. Get out of Dodge even before high school was over.”
“She finished the year as her class’s second-best—beaten by only two points, I might add as a proud father. College-wise, Agnes can write her own ticket. I don’t want her to miss that chance by losing momentum.”
“Trust her, Rick.”
“I do. Honestly! Did I tell you already that you look fantastic on these thirteen inches of screen real estate?”
“Not enough times. If you dish out more compliments like this, I might get you a fifteen-inch laptop for Christmas.”
“Size doesn’t matter, Lou.”
“Says you.”
Louise
Then came the mall incident. It was Sunday again. Charles was in his room, experimenting with some plants and his microscope, Dana was playing happily in the living room with Louise, and Rick was preparing the afternoon barbecue. Britta and Agnes were out somewhere.
The doorbell rang. “Can you get that?” Rick called out from the kitchen, hands full of marinade. Door calls were his task due to the occasional courageous autograph hunter or desperate paparazzi, so Louise usually did not show herself. But the last two weeks, the Southern California media seemed saturated and Louise felt more comfortable showing her face at the door. She opened the door and was greeted by two Oxnard police officers, who had Britta standing between them, head hanging and her face hidden beneath her curls.
“Officers, what can I do for you?” Louise asked, switching on her brightest smile. Her mind raced. Britta was in trouble, police trouble, and Louise felt some sort of primal motherly instinct kicking in to protect her cub. She’d never had this sort of feeling before, but it felt . . . No time to analyze—help poor Britta get out of this.
The police officers stared at her, open-mouthed. Oxnard PD had handled the traffic control on the first days of the media frenzy after going she and Rick went public, but it looked like neither officer had made the connection with Britta’s last name or with the address. The large red-headed Irish officer shut his mouth first and cleared his throat. “Sorry to bother you, Miss . . . Waters, ma’am, but we caught young Miss Flint here shoplifting eyeliner in the mall.”
Louise’s actor self kicked in, and she stepped into the character of another person. Louise Waters, actress and stepmother was gone, replaced by a sexy mother, helping her daughter to get out of a serious mess. She opened her eyes wider, pouted her lips, and moved hip and shoulder a little bit to the side. “Will there be trouble for Britta?”
“Yes, ma’am, we will need to write up a report, and Britta will have to appear before juvenile court.”
She popped her hip out a little more. These guys were the foot soldiers, not the ones with real pull. But still, they needed to be coached into the next step. “Is there any way we could avoid this? Can I talk to someone?”
“The shop owner was happy that we took her in. I doubt that he will press charges. But a report can’t be avoided, Miss Waters.”
“Listen, Officer . . . Randolph,” Louise read from his tag. “Would it be possible to talk to your lieutenant or captain? I don’t want to put you guys into a difficult position, but if I could talk for just one minute with someone who could make an exception, I’d be really, really grateful.”
“Are you Britta’s mother?” The other cop, a short Hispanic officer named Lopez, blurted out.
“Her dad’s girlfriend.” Louise smiled broadly. Both cops were off balance from Louise’s larger-than-life presence, and she was planning to fully use it. “So, is it possible to speak to your captain?”
“No one will believe me if I call this in,” Officer Randolph said dryly. “And the chief is quite . . . something.” He probably meant difficult, but Louise hoped it was nothing worse.
“Just dial him on the phone then and connect me with him.”
Randolph looked a bit lost, glanced at his partner, who was still looking slack-jawed at Louise. He then shrugged, got out his phone, and speed-dialed. He stepped back from the porch to have privacy. Officer Lopez, the small mustached Latino, took all his courage, likely fueled from eternal bragging rights to have chatted up Louise Waters, and came up with, “You like it here in Oxnard, Louise?”
While Louise picked up the conversation to keep Lopez busy, she tried to overhear Randolph’s conversation with his boss, making out fragments like “I shit you not” and “Yes, she wants to talk to you personally.” Louise multitasked and gave Britta a hand sign to step behind her and enter the house. Fortunately Britta interpreted correctly and made the whole walk look very natural. One second she was beside Officer Lopez, the next beside Louise, then slightly behind her, and then inside.
“I was born here, and I tell you, it is more of a town than you would think, Louise,” Lopez droned on, while Louise gave him a beaming superstar smile and a slight yet intimate only-for-my-best-friends shoulder touch to indicate yeah-I-get-you. They were interrupted by Randolph, who had come back. “The chief would like to speak to you,” he said and handed over the phone.
“This is Louise Waters.” She stepped back from the officers to get some privacy.
“Chief Paris. You sound like you, Miss Waters,” a gruff female voice said. “Officer Randolph told me you would like to speak to me about Miss Flint.”
A female police chief, shoot me now! So much for playing the sex card!
“Yes, I didn’t want to ask your officers to make an exception, but I think you are in a position to make such a call. Right? But I don’t want you to act unethical, that’s far from my mind.”
“I see,” Chief Paris said. “Would you like to discuss this in person? Now?”
Louise was taken aback for a second but managed not to show it. Hopefully the police chief was starstruck. “Absolutely, thank you for the opportunity.”
“My officers will bring you to the station. See you in five, Miss Waters.”
Louise gave Randolph back his phone. “Back to the ranch!” She grabbed behind her and simply let the door fall into its latch. Who needed keys or money when you were Louise Waters?
Rick
“Where did you go so suddenly?” Rick asked over the sizzle of the meat and the olive-oiled vegetables for Britta and Louise. “Five more minutes to go; you can call the gang.”
Instead Louise put her arms around him from behind. “Rick, honey, do you love me?”
“Uh, yeah! Now that you force me to answer.” The question caught him off guard.
Something serious is going on, but I have no idea what. Now that I think about it, there is a pregnant pre-barbecue silence in the house, which always means that my brood has gone underground due to some unspoken pact or secret.
Usually the kids would loiter around the grill, waiting for the first things coming off it.
“And you trust me, even though we haven’t been together that long yet?” Louise leaned against Rick, letting him feel her breasts on his upper arm and back, and touched his hips.
“I . . .” Rick had to swallow and put the salad bowl down. “I trust you. But you turning on your charms in such a very direct manner makes me trust you maybe a little less . . . No, no, keep it up.”
“I take it as a yes! Thank you!” Louise turned Rick around and gave him a long kiss that made him breathless and dizzy.
Just don’t fall into the grill! was all he could think, apart from the obvious.
They held each other for a minute more.
Rick took a deep breath. “How come I have the feeling there won’t be any more explanation?”
“Isn’t ‘Trust me’ and ‘Thank you’ enough?”
“I am in a bind here where I cannot come out as a winner either way I chose, right?”
“Lose-lose, all the way. So you better shut up,” Louise agreed.
Rick looked at her for a long time; he was not in a hurry to let Louise Waters go from his arms. Although he had to turn the steak soon.
“Thank you, Louise Waters.”
Now it was her turn to look surprised. “For what?”
“For arriving.”
Louise
Making love to Rick was the gentlest thing she had ever experienced. Her other partners had been good in bed, no doubt about that, so she had no reason ever to complain. But when Rick and she had made love the first time, everything had been frenzy, two souls in disbelief about what they were doing but getting over it, because both feared courage would leave them at any second. There had been a nice transition from the frenzied to the slow and gentle phase, each time better than the one before.
After making love on Sunday night when the barbecue and TV movie were over, Lou lay in Rick’s arms. They were both spent and happy after the slow buildup and all that followed up to the point of no return, holding back sound-wise as the kids were only a few rooms away and giggling occasionally. And now both were a little sad because the weekend was over, again.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Rick asked in the dark, touching her naked back, still in shock that this was actually happening to him.
“Anything special up for next Saturday?” Louise asked.
“Not that I can think off. Why?”
“I received an invite today for a party Saturday, starting at five.”
“I thought we weren’t going to join the Hollywood party circuit,” Rick said.
“No, nothing Hollywood, something local. The annual Oxnard Police Department summer barbecue. It’s in Southwest Community Park. It’s cops and their families getting together. There’ll be dancing and music and a raffle.”
“Did you decide on a new career path without telling me?”
“I’m not sure whether you know . . .” Louise leaned on her elbows and tried to make out Rick’s face in the dark. “But the Oxnard PD has an
eye out for me whenever I am here. Standard procedure for high-profile targets. And I thought I could show them some appreciation. I offered to host the event’s raffle and do a little stand-up comedy.”
“Stand-up comedy? You haven’t done that for over . . . what, ten years?”
“I gave it up because I wanted to concentrate on acting and not become an acting comedian,” Louise agreed. “But why not, it will be fun. And maybe it will be a creative outlet for my time after acting.”
“Saturday at the police barbecue it is. Kids come, too, right?”
“Of course, silly!” Louise put her head on his chest. “Up for one more?”
Rick thought himself the luckiest man alive when first her hand and then shortly afterward her head made the journey down his body.
Britta and Louise had had no opportunity to really talk until a few days after the mall incident. Louise had made sure that Rick was still at the shipyard and had arrived intentionally a little earlier than planned at the Flint house. Britta was in her room, hidden under her big headphones, reading a teenager vampire novel.
“Can I come in?”
“I guess . . .” Britta said. She was the Flint kid with whom Louise felt she had the least established relationship. She was a strange one, a combination of differences, opaque as a stone. Sometimes shy, sometimes aggressive. Thick as thieves with her siblings, but then again the loner. She had various friends, mostly skater types with wide jeans, Vans on their feet, and alt-band T-shirts, who soon would turn to surfing. There were only four years between Agnes and Britta, but they couldn’t be more different. Britta’s room sported posters of skaters and bands and musicians that Louise did not recognize, though she was an avid follower of the music scene.
“About the weekend incident, don’t worry. I squared it with the police.”
Britta looked through her black curls, her dark brown eyes with fire burning. “Thank you. I mean it.”
“Want to talk about it?” Louise asked. As good a question as any for a girl you lived with but did not really know.