Roman Holiday

by Phyllis A. Humphrey

Nora’s wedding the next month was lovely, and I didn’t do anything wrong. Actually, the wedding was more lavish than I expected. It was held outdoors at a fancy hotel overlooking the Pacific Ocean, on a grassy bluff above the beach, with arbors of flowers and white chairs festooned with ribbons for the hundred or more guests.

  While I helped Nora into her designer dress before the ceremony, I learned that her parents were loaded. They were, in fact, her adoptive parents.

  Am I not the luckiest woman in the world? she said. I’ve had the most wonderful life, and now I’m having the most beautiful wedding.

  I thought of something. But if your family has so much money, how come you wanted to move in with me and share the rent?

  Well, I’m only a schoolteacher, she said. Sure, my parents could have paid the rent on an apartment for me, but I wanted to be independent. Besides, I was an only child, and I liked the idea of having a roommate, sort of like the sister I always wished I had. It gave me a chance to meet you, and I’m grateful for that. You know I think of you like a sister, and we’ll always be best friends, won’t we?

  Of course, I assured her. But my curiosity got the better of me. Did you ever meet your birth mother?

  She sat down on one of the chairs in the dressing room. Yes, actually, I did once. One year, it seemed as if every newspaper and magazine ran an article about people doing that, so I did it too.

  And what happened? Did you like her?

  She seemed like a very nice person, but she had no interest in having a relationship with me.

  I frowned. Didn’t that upset you?

  No. She leaned close and spoke softly. Listen, I don’t know how other people handle these things, but in our case, it was right. I met her at a coffee shop because she didn’t want to meet at either her house or mine. She said she was only fifteen when she got pregnant with me and knew she was too young to have a child and could never support me. So, she gave me up for adoption the instant I was born.

  Pregnant at fifteen reminded me of Kimberly’s friend Tiffany who was fifteen and wanted a baby.

  She told me, Nora said, that she knew my adoptive parents would always be my real parents because they’d raise me from birth, and she simply closed that chapter of her life.

  But how did that make you feel? I asked.

  She paused and then smiled. Like she was the most unselfish mother in the world. She must have loved me very much, because she gave me up so I could have what she knew she could never give me herself: a wonderful set of parents who not only had lots of money but lavished all their time and attention on me. By doing that, she blessed me in a thousand ways, and I told her how grateful I was to be able to say ‘thank you’ in person.

  We were both a little teary-eyed when someone knocked on the door and said it was time to start the wedding. During the ceremony, I had nothing to do but hold a bouquet of flowers, and I did it expertly. Afterward, pictures were taken, and then we all went indoors. The reception featured unlimited hors d’oeuvres and punch, a five-course meal served at tables with enormous flower centerpieces and satin-covered chairs, a live band with musicians dressed in tuxedos, and a wedding cake large enough to feed a small African nation.

  ****

  Nora had insisted on paying her share of the rent on our apartment through the end of the month, but I had been dreading the prospect of finding a smaller one. No way could I afford the two bedrooms that Nora and I occupied. I, too, loved Nora like a sister and was happy she was married, but I didn’t feel up to the change in my life.

  But one morning, a week after the wedding, I awoke with a better attitude. Looking for a new apartment would be a challenge that would take my mind off Nora on her fabulous honeymoon and my losing Todd. Yeah, right.

  Todd was never far from my thoughts. I remembered every moment we spent together, the look on his face when he told me he might be falling in love with me, the feel of his arms around me in the gondola, the taste of his mouth on mine. My body ached with longing to touch him, hold him. I cried myself to sleep Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday—Need I continue?

  ****

  The idea came to me over the next weekend. I had found a one-bedroom apartment that seemed suitable. It not only boasted a modern kitchen but was on the first floor and had a little garden in back. The landlord told me it had been occupied for a long time by a woman who moved up to a house in Beverly Hills thanks to writing a screenplay that became a feature film.

  I loved hearing that, because every writer in Los Angeles—to say nothing of every secretary, pool boy, and parking lot attendant—dreamed of writing a successful movie script. In fact, I don’t deny it was on my own list of Things to do before I’m forty.

  So, the idea I dreamed up came to me as a result of thinking about this woman’s having made it, plus remembering Todd saying that the girl from his hometown who had been pregnant—but not by him—had moved to Hollywood, changed her name, and was now a successful film actress.

  What if, I said to myself, I went to see her, and she would agree to visit Todd’s parents and tell them the truth? Then perhaps they’d contact him, and the stalemate would be over.

  Okay, what happened between Todd and his parents was none of my business, but I couldn’t help it. He might not love me, but I was still in love with him, and I would do anything for him. Besides, when I see a way to fix a problem, I just want to do it.

  And it looked so easy. First, I knew her name. Second, she worked in Hollywood, only minutes away from my own job. Third, I could use my credentials as a magazine writer to interview her for a story. I didn’t clear this with Hardcastle first, but it seemed to me he ought to approve an article about a local actress about to star in a film everyone anticipated.

  Naturally, he had a different plan for me. That week, I was to go to the Getty Museum and write an article about their upcoming special exhibit.

  You did a good job on that foreign art in Rome, he said. This should be right up your alley. My boss had never met a cliché he didn’t like.

  I calculated a day should be enough for that story, so I put it off temporarily and instead set the wheels in motion to find Fiona Blackwell and convince her to tell Todd’s parents that he wasn’t the father of her baby. Little Miss Fix-it, that’s me.

  Roman Holiday

  Chapter 25

  I started with the Screen Actors Guild, and it wasn’t long before I was able to speak to Fiona’s agent and arrange for an interview.

  Unlike the screenwriter who had moved up to Beverly Hills, Fiona occupied an apartment in town. The building had a doorman, and, once inside the lobby, I had to show my press pass and I.D. before they’d even call upstairs to verify I was expected. And the elevator, although presumably a do-it-yourself modern apparatus, required an operator in uniform. This was a handsome boy who looked not a day over twelve, but, judging by his height, was probably sixteen and would be a movie star by twenty-one.

  At her door, Fiona herself let me in, and I saw a beautiful woman with blonde hair, enormous blue eyes, and a figure I’d never achieve if I gave up chocolate for a year. She wore a fuchsia silk blouse and plum-colored silk pants, a patterned scarf at her neck, and fancy sandals on bare feet whose toenails, no doubt painted by some lackey at a salon I could never afford, coordinated with her color scheme.

  Come in, she said with a smile. You may not believe it, but I read L.A. Life myself.

  I’m so pleased, I answered.

  Do sit down. She ushered me to a set of low couches that faced windows with a great view, but I sat instead in a straight upholstered chair with my back to all that light. She took one of the sofas and spread her arms along the back, totally at ease.

  Then, all business, I pulled out my notebook and started to ask the questions any reporter would begin with. Like, where were you born, and how did you happen to get into show business?

  She named Chicago as her hometown, admitted her father had died when she was young, but never said her mother married again or that she ran away fr
om home after high school. Said she was always interested in acting and appeared in high school and college plays.

  What college did you attend? I asked.

  She didn’t hesitate. She’d been interviewed many times before, no doubt, and had her answers prepared. Right here in California, but that was before I changed my name.

  I filled in the short silence that followed. So, you mean I can’t check that out?

  Do you want to?

  Well, your college acting experience undoubtedly helped you get a start in films, so it’s not a secret.

  She rose and walked to a corner cabinet and poured a glass of water from a decanter. Would you like a drink or some water? she asked.

  No, thank you.

  My publicist has a handout with all that stuff about my early years. I assumed you wanted to talk about my upcoming film. After giving me a printed biographical sketch, she returned to her seat.

  I glanced at the paper quickly and tucked it under my notebook in my lap. I had done my homework and knew the name of her upcoming film, so we talked about that for a good twenty minutes.

  She glanced at her diamond-studded watch. Well, if there’s nothing more—

  Actually, I said, I want to talk about something else, if you don’t mind. I closed my notebook. Strictly off the record.

  She frowned. I hope you’re not going to ask me if I can get you in the movies.

  Why on earth would I do that?

  You’re very pretty. When you first came in, I thought you looked more like an actress than a reporter.

  I may have blushed. Thank you, but I have no such ambitions. I couldn’t act my way out of a paper bag.

  She smiled and seemed to relax. Okay, what is it you want to know?

  It’s about an incident in your past. I took a deep breath and plunged right in. I met Todd Matthews recently, and he told me he knew you.

  I paused to let her say something about their relationship, but instead she threw the conversational ball back to me. How did you happen to meet Todd?

  On an airplane, actually. We were both going overseas and ended up on a tour of Rome, Florence, and Venice.

  How nice. I expect he’s become very successful then. I’m glad.

  As successful as he wants to be, I said.

  Is he married? Does he have children?

  No.

  If he’s as handsome as he used to be, I’m surprised. She took a sip of water then seemed to have a sudden inspiration. Oh, I know. You two fell in love on that tour, right?

  I hadn’t seen that coming and had no ready response for it. Not exactly, I hedged. We did talk a lot, and he told me some things about his past.

  Fiona shifted uneasily on the sofa. I can’t imagine why that should interest a reporter. He was an all-American kid from a nice family. No skeletons in their closet that I’m aware of.

  Unlike her own, I thought. But I needed to get to the point, so I kept going. He told me that, when he was just home from college and you were a high school senior named Sally, he helped you leave town.

  Fiona, or Sally, was on her feet again, pacing the floor. He told you— She whirled around toward me. You can’t print that. It isn’t true.

  No, I’m not going to print it.

  Then why—?

  He told me that you were pregnant and were afraid to tell your mother that your stepfather had raped you. I rushed on. You wanted to get away, and he gave you the money to do that.

  She sat down again, rested her head on her arms and remained silent for a long time. Finally, as if making a decision, she looked up and leaned toward me. I sensed her tears were close to the surface.

  I try not to think about it. Mostly, it’s more like a movie I watched than anything that actually happened to me. She looked up. I like to keep it that way.

  I’m sorry to bring up a painful chapter in your life. I wouldn’t ask you to remember it if it wasn’t important.

  Important to you? How?

  No, of course not. I mean to Todd.

  She paused. I’ll never forget his kindness.

  I didn’t comment, and she continued. I wanted to hide in a big city so I came to Los Angeles and got a job as a waitress. But finally I had to quit working, and Todd’s money kept me alive for those last three months.

  And then? I already knew what happened next but wanted to hear her version.

  The baby was stillborn. She searched vainly for a handkerchief in her pockets then put the edge of her scarf up to her eyes for a moment. Just as well. I was going to give it up for adoption anyway.

  Todd told me he knew what happened to the baby. I guess you two kept in touch.

  For a while we did, and then, well, you know how that is. People get busy, and they move. She looked up, now seemed more comfortable talking to me. So, you saw Todd on the tour. Was that recently? He’s okay?

  Not quite. He’s doing well financially. He started a software business in college. Perhaps he told you about that, and he sold it a few years ago. Besides that income, he’s an artist and a computer consultant and seems to enjoy both.

  I’m so happy for him. She got up again and refilled her glass of water. I’ll never be able to thank him enough for what he did.

  Well, at the time, I guess he had some savings he was able to give you.

  She turned and sat down again. Oh, it was much more than that. After a pause, she looked questioningly at me. He didn’t tell you all of it, did he?

  What do you mean? What more is there?

  We lived next door to each other, and after I told him what had happened, he—he wanted to protect me. She hurried on. There were still two more weeks of school, and I needed that diploma. Besides, I had to make plans for how I’d get away. She took another swallow, then spoke softly, as if afraid someone else might hear. Every night, after his parents went to bed, he came over, and I let him in my bedroom window.

  My voice rose in shock. He what?

  No, you don’t understand. He didn’t touch me. He slept on the floor in a sleeping bag right in front of my door so my stepfather couldn’t— She shivered at the thought. I set my alarm, and he’d leave early in the morning.

  So, he kept you safe. Did your stepfather ever try—

  I guess not. I never heard him try to get in, and Todd never said anything.

  My mind reeled with this new information. Todd had slept in her room to keep her stepfather from raping her again. He might have been seen going back and forth from her house. No wonder rumors flew. Perhaps his parents found out where he was going and had even more reason to doubt his claims of innocence. My mouth turned dry as an old tennis ball.

  Thank you, I said. I think I will have that glass of water now.

  While she poured the water, I rose and did some floor-pacing of my own. My mission was all the more urgent now. I sat on the sofa next to her.

  You really feel indebted to Todd, don’t you?

  Of course. I’d do anything for him.

  Well, I know just what ‘anything’ is.

  She frowned like I was going to ask her to shoot someone or, maybe worse, denounce her show business career and go into a convent.

  I want you to tell this story to someone else.

  She shook her head slowly from side to side. I know movie stars get away with lots of weird behavior these days, but I’m not that famous, and it could just ruin my career.

  This is very important.

  You don’t understand. Even if I was willing to risk that, there are my parents to consider. They’re still alive. My mother still lives with my stepfather. I can’t make this public. I don’t care what happens to him, but it would kill her.

  I don’t want you to broadcast it to the world, I said. Only Todd’s parents.

  Why?

  Because after you left town, rumors began that you were pregnant and Todd was the father.

  She paused as if considering that for the first time. Yes, I suppose they would think that.

  Todd’s parents think so and have nev
er believed him when he said he wasn’t. I took another gulp of water before continuing. You see, he was their only child, and they believed that, by his giving you the money to run away, he deprived them of knowing their grandchild.

  But he wasn’t the father. Didn’t he tell them?

  He tried, but, when the baby died, he couldn’t even get DNA evidence to prove it.

  Oh, dear. I never thought of that. I’ve been so selfish, never realized what might have happened to Todd. He seemed so, so capable and strong and wise.

  Also stubborn, I said. He was so angry that his parents refused to believe him, even without any proof, that he just left home and never went back.

  She looked truly upset. I’m so sorry.

  He won’t forgive them for their lack of faith in him. They don’t even know the baby died, because he was long gone by then.

  That’s so awful!

  What happened to you was awful too, but you were both very young then and did what seemed right at the time. I really think you need to help Todd now though.

  I’d like to, but I don’t know if I can.

  You know where his parents lived. You can go there. You’re the only one who can tell them the truth about what really happened.

  She stood up and took a deep breath. I remember Todd’s parents. Like my own, his mother was older when she gave birth to him, and I guess she felt, having that in common, they could be friends. But my stepfather always interfered. He didn’t want my mother to have friends. He always isolated her from other people. Me too.

  But he let you go to school, I said.

  If it hadn’t been the law, he might not have. She frowned, as if remembering those days caused a lot of pain. I was only allowed to go to school and occasionally to the store for groceries. She looked up. That’s how I met Todd; he worked at the store.

  He told me how you finally confided in him.

  He was so—I can’t explain it. Somehow, I just knew he could help me. And he did.

  When that happened, the two of you should have gone to the police and told them.

  She put up a hand and shook her head. I’m not trying to justify myself, but you don’t know how traumatic it was. I only wanted to get away. I wanted to forget everything about those days, start a new life. And I didn’t want to hurt my mother. I don’t think she knew what was happening, and, if it came out, the scandal would have killed her.