by Terri Lee
“So, you don’t have any classes today at all?” Natalie’s thoughts spun, trying to retrieve Tess’s Tuesday schedule.
“No.” Tess stared over the rim of her coffee cup at her mother, ensuring that Natalie was the first one to break eye contact.
Natalie knew Tess’s game and refused to play. Tess assumed if she maintained eye contact then the other person would believe that she was telling the truth. When in fact, it was precisely the opposite. Natalie broke away because she couldn’t bear to see the untruths behind her daughter’s eyes. Instead she sidestepped the lie.
“What brings you home on a Tuesday morning?”
“Nothing in particular. I was just missing you guys.” Tess looked around the room. “Where’s Nana?”
“She hasn’t come over yet. It’s early.”
Nora lived in the little granny pad at the back of the property. Close enough for Natalie to keep tabs on her aging mother, while still leaving room for the two of them to live their own lives. It worked well for them.
“Make sure you see her, before you leave.” Natalie nudged. “She was hurt that you left without saying anything to her, last time.”
Tess laughed. “Oh, poor Nana. Always looking for a reason to make someone else feel guilty.”
“That’s not true, honey. She’s your grandmother. She misses you, too.”
“I know.” Tess rolled her eyes. “I’m just kidding.”
It was hard to tell with Tess. She could shoot an arrow straight into the heart, and once she drew blood, she’d back off with a wave of the hand, saying, “I’m just kidding,” as if that made everything alright.
Tess had a hole that seemed to be unfillable, and Natalie had spent years staring into the abyss wondering why love wasn’t enough.
Sometimes love just isn’t enough. Her own words came back to haunt her.
Working on her biography had Natalie feeling nostalgic. Steeped in history, images of her sweet baby girl, the flush of sleep on her cheeks, nuzzling that little head full of dark curls and wishing the days would never end.
She could see the years that Tess spent on backlots. Playing among the cables and climbing the scaffolding. Technicians lifting her up on the boom, grips playing with her as if she were their own baby sister. Still, Natalie worked hard, pushing against the tide, to provide a semblance of normalcy in her little girl’s Hollywood life.
In the end, it wasn’t enough to send Tess to public school and provide normal birthday parties instead of extravagant galas. The glamorous life had tentacles that reached far and wide. No matter how much Natalie tried to downplay the circumstances of Tess’s home life, reality was only a magazine article away. She was the daughter of a high-profile movie producer and a mother who went from America’s Sweetheart to International Homewrecker in twelve months’ time. Being a shuttlecock between the two had to leave a mark.
“How’s the book coming?”
“It’s coming,” Natalie said. “Painfully.”
“Will you be talking about me?”
Natalie caught the note of anxiety in her daughter’s voice. “Only peripherally. I talked about how I think the divorce was hard on you, and I take my share of the blame for that.”
“Don’t drag me through your book, okay?” Tess slumped over the table, her head in her hand, the other hand on her coffee mug. “I already gave at the office.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Not trying to be mean.” Tess looked up at her mother, her face softening, a bit. “It’s just… it’s hard enough being Tess Graber. I don’t need to remind everyone that I’m Natalie’s daughter.”
“We can’t change that, honey. You are my daughter. But I hear you.”
“Thanks.”
Natalie decided to wade into the deep end. “What’s going on? What’s got you wound up?”
“Wound up?” Tess immediately got her back up. “What are you talking about? I’m not wound up.”
“You seem agitated.”
“Agitated?”
“Will you stop repeating every word I say?”
“I will if you stop talking nonsense”
“I know you, Tess.” Natalie held up her hand to stave off the retort. “And I know you hate it when I say that. But the truth is, I can take one look at you from across the room and know when something is off. It does neither one of us any good for me to pretend that I don’t see what I see.”
“You don’t know what you think you know. Don’t be so dramatic.”
“Baby,” Natalie took a deep breath in the hopes of slowing the conversation down, “talk to me. I can see something is going on. You’re reed thin. Shaking. Your eyes are hollowed out—”
“I’m just stressed out, alright,” Tess interrupted.
“About what?”
“Everything.” Tess shrugged. “School, money, Brad and I are fighting.”
“Why are you stressed about money?” An alarm went off.
Tess rolled her eyes again. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. I just overspent last month, now the rent money is late, and my landlady is harassing me.”
“You haven’t paid your rent?”
“That’s why I’ m stressed. I was hoping I could get an advance on my allowance.”
“For rent money?” Natalie was a prosecutor, asking the same question over and over in the hopes of tripping up the defendant.
“Yeah. I lost track of my spending.”
It killed her every time Tess threw a lie on the table.
“Have you talked to your Dad?” Natalie decided on a detour.
“God no. Why would I talk to him?”
“Because school money is his responsibility.”
Tess sighed. “You know how it is with me and Dad, we’ve been on an awkward first date for twenty years.”
Natalie shook her head. Tess had a way of getting to the heart of a matter in one sentence or less. It was a gift. And a curse.
“He’s still your father, and he loves you.”
“When he has time.”
“He means well, Tess. We don’t always get the parents we deserve. We get what we get.”
“Philosophy 101. Thanks, professor.”
“You’re welcome” Natalie batted aside the sarcasm. “Anyway, when was the last time you talked to Stan?”
“A few weeks ago. He just got back from his honeymoon and he sounded kind of scattered.”
“Honeymoon,” Natalie mused. “Which one is this?”
“Fourth. Gloria.”
“Ah... Gloria.”
“I don’t want to talk to Dad, right now.” Tess brought the conversation back to the table. “Can you loan me the money or not?”
“Not.” Natalie set her coffee mug down and looked directly at her daughter. “If you need to pay the rent, then I’ll call your landlady and handle it.”
“I can handle it. Stop treating me like a fucking baby.”
“Watch your mouth. And if I’m treating you like a child it’s because you’re acting like a child.”
“No, you just think you need to micromanage every moment of my life. What? I make one mistake and I’m supposed to be on trial for the rest of my fucking life?” Her voice was shrill now.
“Don’t make me out to be the bad guy in this, Tess. You stroll through my door at nine o’clock on a Tuesday morning, when you should be in school. Yet you make the hour and half drive looking like you just rolled out of bed. Hair unkempt, looking like you haven’t eaten in weeks. What am I supposed to think?”
“How about that maybe I’ve been stressing about my classes? Or my boyfriend? You don’t have to turn everything into an after school special about drugs.”
“Now who’s being dramatic?”
Tess sank back in the kitchen chair, with a sigh of defeat. Rail thin arms protruding from the sleeves of a Grateful Dead t-shirt, had her looking like she’d raided her big-sister’s closet. She was a little girl lost. “So, you’re not going to help me out?”
“Of course
I am.” Natalie stretched her hand out to Tess. “Give me your landlady’s number and I’ll handle it.”
“Forget it.” Tess stood up abruptly, knocking the chair over in her hurry. “I’ll take care of it myself. Thanks for nothing.”
She was already halfway to the door.
“Tessie don’t leave like this. Come sit down.”
Tess turned back to her mother, her hand on the doorknob. “I’ll see you later.”
“Tess—” The name landed on the door as Tess slammed it behind her.
49 Ulterior Motvies
“Jesus, somebody get me a cocktail.”
Monty dropped his overnight bag and threw himself on the sofa like Greta Garbo.
“Hello darling, and I missed you, too.” Natalie cooed as she made her way to the kitchen to prepare Monty’s White Russian.
“The drive was a nightmare,” Monty yelled from the living room.
“I can’t hear you,” Natalie yelled back.
“I said—”
“Stop yelling, Mont. I’ll be back in a sec.”
Monty kicked off his shoes and planted his feet on the overstuffed ottoman. Toes were wiggling in anticipation upon Natalie’s return.
“Here, love.” Natalie handed her red-headed companion his favorite, keeping one for herself, but only after demanding a kiss on the cheek for payment. “Now, what were you yelling about?”
Monty took a long sip of his drink, first. “I was saying the drive was a nightmare.”
“That’s a lie.” Natalie shooed him away with the wave of a hand. “It’s the most beautiful drive in the country.”
“Once you get out of LA.”
“Well, living in LA is your problem, not mine.”
The banter went back and forth, thrust and parry, attack and retreat, in their usual format until they ended up in a fit of giggles.
After catching each other up on old friends, such as Chloe’s recent visit with her three adorable children, and the latest Hollywood gossip, the pair settled in for the evening. Natalie loved it when Monty came for a visit. He injected humor and a burst of life into her quiet surroundings that lasted for days after he packed up and went home. This time would be no different. She could use the infusion.
“So, how’s it going with the New Yorker?” Monty stirred the ice cubes in his drink with his finger, then licked them like a child liking the cake batter spoon.
Natalie grinned at Monty’s moniker for Sandra. “Great. We’ve made a lot of progress. She shadowed me last week, when I taught class and worked at the theatre. It was a little disconcerting to have her auditing my class.”
“Ah, your class. How’s that going? Still giving away all your secrets to the next generation?”
“I might as well. I’m not using them. Anyway, I’ve been digging through Nora’s dusty archives. The Smithsonian has nothing on that woman. Every movie, every part, documented in detailed chronological order. As if she knew it would all be needed one day.”
“Good for Nora.” Monty raised his glass in a toast.
“And I think we’ve finalized the group of photos we’ll be using in the book as well.”
“Great work. Sounds like we’re on track.”
“I suppose so. If we don’t get de-railed.”
“Why would you?”
As Natalie filled him in on Tess’s recent visit, he leaned in closer, completely in the moment with her. She loved that about him. When he was with you, he was with you. No outside distractions. Nothing and no one more interesting than the person sitting across from him.
“That same old feeling of dread started churning in the pit of my stomach.” Natalie grimaced. “She’s using again.”
“Are you sure?”
“Well of course I can’t be sure unless we have her tested. But in my gut— I know it’s true. I knew it the moment she walked in the door. She didn’t even have to open her mouth.”
“Damn, baby, that’s sucks.”
“Yeah. I called and talked to Stan and he said she’d already hit him up for money last week with the same rent excuse and he flipped her another five hundred. That’s why she said she didn’t want to talk to her Dad.”
“Crap.”
“Crap indeed. I couldn’t get in touch with her for a couple of days after she stormed out of here, which sent the worry into overdrive, but she finally called and sounded like her old self. She assured me everything was fine. She was going to class. When I asked her about the rent money, she blew me off saying Brad had paid it for her. As if that loser was capable of helping anyone. Anyway, Stan is supposed to come up next week and we’re going out to dinner with Tess to get a feel for what’s going on.”
“Kids. It never ends.”
“I suppose Nora can say the same thing about me,” Natalie said with a shrug.
“And how are things with Robert?” Monty steered the conversation to a new topic.
“Oh, Rob. We haven’t seen each other for days. I’ve been so busy with the book, and then worrying about Tess. We’ll catch up after you leave. But he’s fine.”
“Fine? That’s a ringing endorsement.”
“What do you want me to say? Everything’s fine. He’s a good guy.”
“Kiss of death.”
“Stop it.”
“Do you love him?”
“Love?”
“Yeah, love, you’ve heard of it haven’t you? You guys have been dating for almost a year, either you love him, or you don’t.”
Natalie sighed.
“There’s my answer.”
“Don’t go looking for trouble. It’s comfortable. It’s… nice.” Natalie struggled to find the right words.
“Nice?” Monty screwed up his face. “You picked him because he’s safe.”
“No, I picked him because he makes me laugh.”
“Rob? Makes you laugh? I call bullshit on that.”
“You don’t know him, he’s extremely funny.”
“Extremely?”
“Yes.” Natalie turned away from the interrogation. “He’s very funny.”
“Now it’s just very, keep going we’ll get to the truth eventually.”
“Oh, Monty, stop. Rob is a wonderful guy…”
“But he’s not Nico.”
“Of course not. I don’t expect him to be.”
“I think a little piece of you does, baby. And that’s perfectly normal, you should have that kind of love. Demand it. I’m not saying he necessarily needs to be exciting, but you should be excited by him. Don’t settle for lukewarm, because it’s comfortable.”
“Get out of my head, Monty.” Natalie thought how strange it was that she had been married to Stan for twelve years and was able to walk away, but one year with Nico had rearranged her cells. Would she spend the rest of her years comparing every man to him?
Nico was an Italian feast. Spicy, tongue tantalizing flavors, that left you warm all over. Robert was a palate cleansing lemon sorbet. A forgettable kind of guy.
“He’s been working on a new play. It’s really great.” Natalie tried to compensate for her lukewarm thoughts.
“He’s working on a new play? Good for him. That reminds me.”
Monty got up, padding in his stocking feet to his overnight bag where he rummaged around for something. “Here we go.”
He came back to the sofa, holding a thick manuscript to his chest, with a sheepish smile.
“Oh my God, Monty, what have you got?”
“Only the most beautiful script I’ve ever read.”
“No.”
“If you love me, you’ll hear me out.”
“I do love you. And, no.”
“It’s time to come back. You’re lost up here in Carmel.”
“I’m not lost. Everyone I love knows where to find me. My soul is at home here.”
“I know where to find the Dalai Lama too, but that doesn’t mean I want to hike the Himalaya’s to talk to him.”
“Can you be more dramatic?
“
I can try.”
With this they both dissolved in another round of laughter.
“Seriously, Nat, what are you still doing holed up here away from the world, as if you don’t need love, you don’t need a life?”
“There is life outside of Hollywood, Mont, and I have a life.”
“No, you don’t. Not the life you’re supposed to have. Look, no one gets it more than me. You had the shit kicked out of you. And if this was anyone else, I’d say, stay here in your little Boxwood Cottage and enjoy your life. But this is you.” He leaned across the sofa, taking her hand in his. “You can stop punishing yourself. You’ve paid your dues and took your whipping. Now you’re simply overdoing it. I’m here to make sure you don’t turn into an old woman with her cats.”
“I only have two cats, Monty.”
“And a dog, and a horse, and an old goat named Nora.”
Natalie burst out laughing. “Stop it.”
“This is your time, Ellie May Clampett. Tess is off to college, why not make a movie?”
“I should have known it wouldn’t stop with the book, that you’d have ulterior motives.”
“I always have ulterior motives. You know me.”
Natalie eyed him with suspicion as Monty handed over the tome. The weight of it in her hands, felt like old times.
“Just read it tonight. That’s all I ask. We’ll talk in the morning.”
50 Second Thoughts
“What did you think?” Monty made his way over to Natalie, who was perched on the ledge of the rock wall, digging at a tenacious batch of weeds in the raised flower bed.
“Good morning to you, too.” Natalie shook her head as she shielded the sun from her eyes. In cut off shorts and a faded tee-shirt, he looked like Robert Redford playing a surfer.
Monty leaned down and planted a kiss on the top of Natalie’s head. “Sorry, sweetheart. Good morning. What did you think?”
Natalie removed her gardening gloves one finger at a time. Enjoying the torment of her old friend. “It’s…good.”
“Good?” Monty’s voice raised an octave. “It’s fucking perfect and you know it.”
Natalie grinned. “Okay. It’s pretty damn good.”