The Meryl Streep Movie Club

by Mia March

  She’d never realized how much she’d pushed her mother away. Maybe she hadn’t given Lolly enough of a chance once her dad was gone.

  Lolly sat up, with an effort that drained Kat’s blood. “Kat, you know what I was thinking during the chemo infusion with that IV in my arm? You. Leaving you here alone. Remember in Mamma Mia! how the daughter was worried about leaving her mother alone? It’s the opposite with us. I’m worried about leaving you alone.”

  “Mom, I—”

  “Kat, I know you and your cousins are getting closer, but I’m not sure if Isabel will go back to Connecticut and June will go back to Portland or not. It scares me to think of you being alone. I’m not saying you’re not perfectly capable of running this inn or your own life, but I can’t leave you here alone, Kat. It would make me so happy to see you married off to Oliver. To know you were safe and sound. You know what I mean.”

  Tears pricked at Kat’s eyes. Now that her mother was talking, really saying how she felt for once, Kat wished she could blurt out how confused she was, how ambivalent. But how could she, given what Lolly was saying?

  “I was also thinking about how much Oliver loves you. And how wonderful he is, how wonderful he’s been,” Lolly continued. “Do you remember how when Dad died, you two would sit under those evergreens between our houses? Oliver would sit with you there for hours, bundled up in your snowsuits and mittens, and he’d run into his house and come back with thermoses of soup and hot chocolate. You didn’t want to be anywhere else but under those trees for a long time, and he’d sit out there with you for hours in the freezing cold. He was just ten. Just like you.”

  “I remember,” Kat said.

  “I’ll never leave you,” Oliver would say then. “I promise. Want to make a blood oath?” And they did, several times.

  Lolly seemed lost in thought for a moment. “And when we both had strep throat—five, six years ago, and Pearl had been sick too, Oliver took care of the inn and brought us meals on trays and that amazing soup from Chowhounds.”

  “And that hot chocolate from Harbor Lights Coffee. With the big fat marshmallow,” Kat said, remembering how Oliver had changed the linens on their beds. Brought them fresh flowers and People magazine.

  “He was a keeper at ten years old,” Lolly said. “And he’s a keeper now. You’re so lucky, Kat. So lucky to have found him so young, to have that kind of love always.”

  I am lucky to have Oliver, she knew, thinking of his handsome face, his beautiful actions. She was being an idiot. Of course she was lucky. Who said she couldn’t travel? That was what honeymoons to Paris were for. Vacations to Rome and Sydney and Moscow.

  And her attraction to Dr. Matteo Viola just meant she was a normal red-blooded American woman. It didn’t mean she didn’t love Oliver.

  “To spend these weeks planning your wedding,” Lolly said, “looking through photos of bridal magazines and making guest lists—I’d much rather do that than worry. I’m telling you, even the thought of what type of wedding gown you’d like, what kind of food for the reception, makes me feel stronger right now. What kind of dress are you thinking? Something big and white and elaborate? Or something more simple?”

  Kat couldn’t remember the last time she felt this close to her mother. And she’d let Lolly have this, let her do this. Kat and Oliver belonged together; everyone seemed to know that, to understand that. She needed to trust in all that.

  “I was thinking something simple,” she heard herself say. “Not too much pouf or lace.”

  Lolly’s excited smile lit up her entire face. “How about the wedding and reception in the backyard? Wouldn’t that be just perfect!”

  “It would be, Mom.”

  Maybe this was how it was supposed to be, Kat thought. The decision taken out of her hands, twice. Maybe that was what she needed, someone to take hold and say, Now listen here, Oliver is the best guy on earth, there’ll never be another guy as great as him, and you’re marrying him.

  “Let me see that ring on your finger.”

  Kat pulled it from her pocket and slipped it on. The heirloom ring, handed down from Oliver’s great-grandmother, was so beautiful with its thin band of gold and round, glittering diamond with tiny baguettes on either side.

  “Now everything looks right with this picture,” Lolly said, admiring the ring.

  So why did Kat still feel that she was the one who didn’t belong?

  On Friday, the engagement ring sparkling on her finger for two days, two days of congratulations from everyone at the inn and from calls and e-mails from Oliver’s family and their mutual friends, Kat was ready for a quiet night in with her family, just the four of them watching a movie, talking about the movie—and not about the engagement or wedding plans or the future. Or asking Kat a million questions about where she and Oliver would live and did they know there was an old Victorian for sale two blocks over that Kat would just love. Lizzie was beside herself with joy at the news and had dropped off at least thirty bridal magazines with color-coded Post-it notes for her favorite gowns, headpieces, shoes, undergarments, jewelry, and hairstyles. Kat’s dear friend also had lists of venues and caterers, ideas for wedding-party gifts, and honeymoon destinations. Lizzie and her groom-to-be were headed to Hawaii. Kat was headed for a headache. It was all much too much.

  She stood looking through the DVDs in the parlor. Her mother had charged her with picking out something fun from the Meryl Streep collection for Friday Movie Night. They were going to watch in Lolly’s bedroom since she’d been feeling so tired for the past couple of days and would likely fall asleep during the movie. The films were arranged by theme and indexed. In the Meryl Streep section, notations on the labels indicated every other major actor in the films. Clint Eastwood. Shirley MacLaine. Tommy Lee Jones. Nicole Kidman. Robert De Niro. Cher. Jack Nicholson. Uma Thurman. Robert Redford. Albert Brooks.

  Defending Your Life. Now there was a title. Kat picked it up and read the back. After fatally crashing his fancy new car on his birthday, Albert Brooks had to defend his life—particularly the moments of fear that had held him back—in a Judgment City courtroom in order to ascend to heaven with his new love, Meryl Streep, whose life was beyond reproach. “Hilarious and heartfelt,” a critic said.

  Moments of fear. Kat had many of those. She set the DVD on top of the player and headed into the kitchen to bake a miniature wedding cake for Movie Night—just to see what it felt like. Kat was always fearless in the kitchen. Let’s see how fearless I am baking my own wedding cake.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Defending Your Life,” Lolly said, remote control on her lap in bed. “I remember that it’s very funny but really makes you think about what in your own life you might have to defend. And not be able to.”

  A slice of miniature wedding cake—Lolly, Isabel, and June had all oohed and aahed—on the tray between her and her mother in the big hospital bed, Kat took a deep breath. She’d actually enjoyed making her own miniature wedding cake—with tiny chickadees and rugosa roses—but she hadn’t been thinking of herself or Oliver or a wedding while she’d worked on it; she only thought about the cake. Making it perfect.

  Yet as she took her first bite—and it did come out perfect—the sweet cake turned bitter on her tongue. She did need some help defending her feelings—both in wanting to marry Oliver and not. In being attracted to Matteo Viola whether she wanted to be or not. In wanting to stay, wanting to go.

  Isabel and June were on the padded folding chairs to the right of the bed, a bowl of popcorn on June’s lap. Pearl was at an anniversary party, so it was just the four of them. Kat was grateful that no opinionated guests would be running off at the mouth.

  “Even Albert Brooks’s face makes me laugh,” Lolly said as the movie opened with Albert Brooks giving a funny speech at work. “I mean his expressions, the way he uses his voice—he’s just so funny.”

  Kat
watched as Albert Brooks, playing a lovable, funny advertising guy, bought himself a BMW convertible for his birthday and then accidentally crashed it into a bus while looking for a dropped CD (good thing no one used those anymore). He ended up in Judgment City, which looked a bit like Las Vegas, where he had to defend his life on earth, in a trial with a defense attorney and a prosecutor, before he could move on to heaven with Meryl Streep, who had done wonderful things on earth, such as adopt children and save cats from fires. If he lost his case, he’d be sent back to earth to try again.

  June cut into her slice of wedding cake and took a bite. “Oh my God, can you imagine if every second of your life really was recorded and would be used against you to decide if you could go to heaven. I’d be sent back to earth over and over.”

  Me too. For the moment I said yes to Oliver’s marriage proposal because I was scared of everything—including saying no. Like the moment I thought of Matteo’s face and body while in bed with Oliver…

  “Middle school alone would keep me out of heaven forever,” Isabel said, shaking her head.

  “Ha, people on earth only use three percent of their brains,” Kat said, repeating Albert Brooks’s lawyer’s words, “which accounts for their problems in life. That’s probably true.”

  The movie was warm and funny and interesting, as hilarious and heartfelt as the DVD proclaimed, and Kat found herself relaxing, enjoying her bites of miniature wedding cake. Until one line made her think. Just as Lolly said it would.

  “Do you think that’s true?” Kat asked. “That fear is a fog that prevents people from real happiness?”

  “Probably,” June said. “I know I’ve been afraid to act at certain times because I didn’t know the outcome. Or just because I was plain afraid. That’s only human.”

  Isabel nodded. “Fear of not hearing what I wanted kept me from asking Edward about our problems more than a few times.”

  Kat adjusted her pillow, trying to get comfortable, then realized her discomfort was coming from inside. Fear was keeping her from saying—and doing—quite a bit. Maybe she did know what she wanted and was just afraid to go for it.

  “Albert Brooks has to defend nine days of life?” June said. “I’d have to defend a lot more.”

  “Me too,” Lolly said quietly.

  Kat glanced at her mother, but Lolly had reached for her iced tea, which was her way of saying, Don’t ask. Maybe if Kat weren’t so afraid of pushing past boundaries, she would ask.

  Me three, Kat thought.

  “Ooh, there’s Meryl,” Isabel said. “It’s hilarious that they meet in a comedy club with a bad comic performing.”

  Kat was glad that Meryl Streep had finally appeared; her face, that silky blond hair, her expressions and joyful laugh, had become so familiar to Kat that she realized she was comforted by the sight of her.

  “Now that is a good question,” Isabel said as Albert Brooks’s trial began and an incident from his childhood was flashed on a movie screen in the courtroom. “About the difference between fear and restraint. Fine line sometimes.”

  Lolly nodded on a yawn. Her third since the movie began. “Too much self-control can keep you from doing what you actually should. But sometimes, people should show more restraint. It’s hard to know when to use which sometimes.”

  June put her empty cake plate on the bedside table. “Ha, this is good too—now showing moments from his misjudgments—fear- and stupidity-based. I’ve made plenty of those.”

  “Me too,” Isabel said. “Though not lately, Aunt Lolly, promise.”

  Kat was relieved when her mother laughed. Lolly had gotten quiet, her expression somber, and she seemed to be lost in thought. Kat wondered what the movie was reminding her of.

  “Albert Brooks is a total revelation to me,” Isabel said. “He’s so funny and self-deprecating, but there’s something so true in his expression, the way he looks at her, how he speaks. I can totally see why Meryl falls in love.”

  June nodded. “Me too. And I get what he means about being tired of being judged. But you know what’s weird? Lately I’ve been thinking that I’m my worst critic.”

  “I think we all are,” Isabel said.

  Kat was riveted when Albert Brooks told Meryl Streep that he didn’t want to go up to her room and have sex because he was afraid of ruining how wonderful and perfect things were between them. He wanted to preserve the fantasy. He was making the wrong choice; but she understood it. Too well.

  “Awww, he has to go back to earth,” June said. “And try again.”

  Kat sighed. “That’s the key to life, isn’t it? What his lawyer just said—that when Albert Brooks goes back to earth, he should take the opportunities that come. He held himself back and now he can’t go to heaven.”

  Marry Oliver. Don’t. Marry Oliver. Don’t. I do. I don’t. What was she supposed to do? What was the opportunity she was supposed to reach for and why didn’t she know?

  Kat watched as Albert Brooks was in a trolley car with the others who had to go back to earth—and suddenly there was Meryl Streep in her trolley car for those headed to heaven. Meryl screamed his name, and he busted out to get to her.

  Taking his opportunity. Not being afraid of the reality of love. And he got to go to heaven with her.

  “What a great movie,” June said as the credits rolled.

  Kat turned on the light on the bedside table. “Mom?” she said, looking closely at Lolly. “Are you crying?”

  Lolly wiped under her eyes. “This movie always makes me think that—” Lolly began, her expression sad, wistful. “I’m not sure I’ll get past Judgment City.” She turned away, looking out the dark window.

  “Mom, of course you will,” Kat said, wondering what her mother was referring to. “And then some.”

  “Okay, hit pause,” Isabel said. “Aunt Lolly, you took in your two orphaned nieces. That alone gets you to heaven.”

  Kat’s mother gave Isabel something of a smile, but didn’t hit pause, her attention back on the television, on the rolling credits. Kat could tell by her mother’s expression, that particular locked look in her eyes, on her lips, that Lolly wouldn’t say a word more. Kat often wondered about her mother’s personal life; in the fifteen years that Lolly Weller had been widowed, she hadn’t dated at all. Kat had once asked her if she ever thought about a “beau,” a word Lolly liked for “boyfriend,” but her mother told her, “Don’t be ridiculous,” that she was done with all that.

  Done with love? Her mother was a hard-to-read mystery most of the time. But she had her inn, she had her clubs, she had her dear friend Pearl, who’d always been like a wise aunt to Lolly. Kat had never known her mother to be particularly joyful; perhaps some people just weren’t.

  Of course, every time Kat thought that, she dismissed it. Lack of joy was a symptom of something.

  As Kat collected the plates and glasses, she realized her mother was either sleeping—or pretending to sleep. Lolly had yawned several times throughout the film, so she might not be faking, but this definitely wasn’t a discussion her mother wanted to continue. Kat was so curious what Lolly had been thinking about. “Mom?” she whispered.

  No answer.

  “Let’s move into the parlor,” Isabel whispered. “Or upstairs.”

  “Upstairs,” Kat said, putting the mini-wedding-cake leftovers on a tray with their drinks. “More privacy.”

  They quickly cleaned up stray popcorn from the floor and straightened up, then turned off the light and gently closed Lolly’s door. They headed up the back stairs, tiptoeing past Charlie’s room. June poked her head in and smiled. “Could he be any cuter when he sleeps?”

  Kat and Isabel poked their heads in too. “So sweet!” Isabel said. Happy was curled up in his usual spot next to Charlie, and Charlie’s arm was flung over the dog’s paw.

  In their bedroom, Kat set
down the tray on her desk and noticed a bunch of crumpled pieces of paper on June’s bed. “Working on something?”

  June blew a curl away from the side of her face as she dropped down on her bed, the crumpled balls of paper bouncing. “A letter to John’s parents. It’s been three days since I left a message on their answering machine. No call yet. I’ve been checking obsessively, so there’s no way I missed it.”

  Those three days ago, the three of them had sat up late into the night talking about what June might say if one of John’s parents answered the phone and what to say if she got voice mail. With Kat and Isabel as her audience, June had rehearsed what to say at least ten times until she was satisfied that the squeak and nerves were out of her voice, so that his parents would have no problem giving a nice-sounding gal such as her their son’s telephone number—or at the least, assuring her they’d give him her number.

  “He’s probably married,” June said, her face falling. “They’re not going to give his number to some woman who calls. I figured I should write a letter, saying I met him in New York City seven years ago and that there was something very important I want to tell him. And leave it at that. But how exactly to say that without coming off as crazy is what’s not working.”

  “I think you can just say that, keep it short, but friendly,” Isabel said, sitting cross-legged on her bed with her half slice of cake. “The ‘something important’ should at least get them to give him the letter and tell him about your call.”

  June leaned back against the wall and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he had met me that day by the fountain in Central Park. Would he have stayed in New York with me until I graduated? Would he have convinced me to travel the country with him and take a year off from school? Would we still be together right now?”