by Terri Lee
It’s true she might have handled things with more finesse, but Stan was a bull in a china closet. Always had been. Act first, get the facts later. And although it was Caterina who started the tabloid fires, it was Stan who fanned the flames. Feeding their insatiable appetite with crumbs of truth wrapped in hyperbole.
As far as the studio lawsuit was concerned, she already knew that Stan couldn’t have extricated himself from that even if he wanted to. All injured parties were lumped together in the plaintiff’s pursuit of compensation.
No, forgetting was impossible. But forgiveness was a decision. A decision to let go. To unclench the fist wrapped tightly around the injustice of it all. It was time to take responsibility for her own happiness and to a great extent, the happiness of her daughter as well. Natalie’s eyes swept across the room, landing on Tess, sequestered in a corner. A pretty girl in a party dress, wearing her misery like a cape around her shoulders.
In that instant, it was an easy decision to leave the past to the past. For her daughter and for her own sanity, she would close the door and not look back.
“I can forgive you, Stanley,” Natalie said. “Not only for Tess’s sake, but for my own as well.”
Relief spread across his face as the enormity of the moment sunk in. “Shall we dance?” he held out his hands.
Natalie shrugged and stepped into the circle of his arms. “Why not?”
Across the room, surprise was replaced by joy spreading like a sunrise across Tess’s face. She left the group of giggling girls gathered around her and moved to the edge of the dance floor where she stood slack-jawed watching her parents gliding effortlessly to Phil Collins singing One More Night.
As the pair spun past Tess, Natalie waved at her daughter as if it was no big deal for the North and the South to be seen dancing together in the middle of the war. The grin on Tess’s face was what Natalie had been looking for earlier in the evening. The smile that didn’t come from the white mustang convertible sitting outside. Tess was sixteen, going on thirty, but deep inside she was still the little girl whose world had come undone.
In the ensuing years as Tess continued to unravel, Natalie was glad for the partner on the other end of the line. Friends they might never be; but teammates who could work together with a common goal, was good enough.
“So, we’re in agreement about rehab?” Natalie said now, searching Stan’s face, seeking an ally in the upcoming skirmish.
“I’ve already contacted Glendale Pines to see if they can take her. They’ve got a spot waiting; all we need to do is call.”
“Good.” Natalie’s sigh was thick with day old worry.
53 Midnight Calls
July 11, 1988
Dear Journal;
So much to say since the last time I wrote. I’m full of hellos and good-byes. The good-bye was for Robert. He’s off to New York, with his dreams packed snugly between the layers of shirts and slacks in his suitcase.
I plan on making the trip for his opening night on Broadway. But who knows what might happen in the intervening months? When I saw him off at the airport, I was full of mixed emotions. Sadness at saying good-bye to a friend. Sadness over the fact that he wasn’t more than that.
Despite what it might look like to an outsider, he wasn’t a space-filler. He was Robert. Someone I was meant to meet. Someone who brought laughter into my quiet life here in Carmel. Someone who helped me get to the place I am now, ready to stand on my own two feet and look the world in the eye. I’m grateful for the year we had together and even more grateful we could part as friends.
Friends. We made love to one another for over a year... shouldn’t we be more than that?
Yet, as I watched his airplane racing down the runway, I was anxious for the new chapter in my own life to begin. I’m racing toward something as well.
The hellos belong to the opportunities my darling Monty has provided. He’ll be here tomorrow with a stack of papers to sign. He’s a sly dog, that Monty. As usual he’s been pulling all kinds of strings from behind the scenes; from the book to the movie. I’m Pinocchio to his Geppetto. But God I love him for it. And thank God he had the sense to ignore my ‘NO.’ He’s always known me better than I know myself.
For Tess, it’s neither hello nor good-bye. Stan and I are at a standstill where she’s concerned. Our dinner meeting left us with nothing but indigestion and confusion. Tess showed up looking healthy and happy. Enough anyway to convince us that she wasn’t in any danger of a relapse. She ate like a horse (thank God, because she’s still too thin) and laughed throughout the meal, leaving Stan and I to put our concerns on the back burner. For now. Although, there’s still a little knot in my stomach. With Tess, it’s always one day at a time.
“And one more signature, here.” Monty shoved another piece of paper under her pen.
Natalie held her tongue between her teeth, as she scrawled her name across the final document, remembering the last time she’d signed contracts and insurance papers.
“It’s been a while, Mont.”
“It has indeed, my pet. But right now, it feels like old home week.”
Natalie stacked the papers in her hand, making a neat pile before handing them back to Monty. “Take good care of these,” she teased.
“I shall guard them with my life, madam. They’ll be hermetically sealed inside a mayonnaise jar until I return to civilization.”
Natalie laughed out loud. Her joy in the moment, unrestrained. She found that it seeped out at any given opportunity lately. Even when the opportunity was lacking, she still found a reason to grin like a teenager asked to the prom.
Later that night, after the sun had retired and a celebratory dinner had been consumed, the pair had a chance to kick off their shoes and talk. Full bellies, had them lounging on the couch like J Catsby, with self-satisfied grins on their faces. Natalie lolled at one end with her feet in Monty’s lap.
“Everything is about to change,” Natalie mused.
“It’s time for a change.” Monty’s voice was low, causing Natalie to look in his direction to see if he was nodding off. “A woman should re-invent herself every decade,” he continued.
Natalie shook her head. “Where do you come up with this shit?”
“I didn’t come up with it, it’s a known fact.”
“Known by whom?”
“Everyone. Geez.” His eyeroll was worthy of a silent film star.
As usual the old friends spent half of their time entertaining each other. Silly quips, nonsensical sayings and ridiculous jabs at one another were the norm. Their repertoire was time worn and honed to perfection. A vaudeville act that never left the couch.
“So, Robert’s on his way to New York and you’re on your way to Hollywood. It’ll be nice to have you back home.”
“This is home, Monty.” Natalie nudged him in the ribs with her foot. “Hollywood is where I’ll go to work, but then it’s back home.”
“Of course.” Monty nodded solemnly, and Natalie knew he intended to ignore everything she’d just said. He was probably already looking for her next film role.
“How was the sendoff with Rob the Snob?”
She ignored the dig. “It was fine. We both knew there was no reason to pretend that we could maintain a long-distance relationship. I wish him all the good fortune he deserves.”
“And you’re free to be… whatever you want to be. Be open to love, baby.”
“Things happen when they’re supposed to happen.” Natalie waved him away.
“Maybe, but you have to let them happen. I just want you to allow yourself to be loved, again, that’s all.”
“You should worry about yourself.” Natalie eyed her old friend with concern. “Anyone new dangling on the end of the Schneider love line?”
“Oh, you know me, I’ve got things dangling all over town.”
Natalie whooped so loud, J Catsby looked up from his nap to check on the commotion. When the laughter died down, Natalie swung her feet off Monty’s lap and squirm
ed into a sitting position. She tapped Monty on the shoulder.
“Please tell me you’re being safe out there. All joking aside, I worry myself sick over you. We’ve already lost too many friends to this AIDS nightmare and I would never recover if I lost you.”
Over the last several years, the quiet terrorist had claimed several of their friends, starting with her old colleague, Rock Hudson. Like wildfires through the LA canyons, rumors were unstoppable, as young men in their prime where snatched up. Lives and livelihoods gone in the blink of an eye. Whispers swept through the backlots of every studio and AIDS became the new Scarlet Letter. Hysteria reigned as actresses refused to participate in love scenes, and the face of movie-making changed overnight.
Monty squeezed her hand. “Rest assured, Ol’ Mont takes care of business. I have to stay healthy to take care of you.”
“Exactly. And don’t you forget it.” She squeezed his hand in return.
It was after midnight when the phone rang. A thief in the night, coming to steal her joy.
There would be no one on the other end shouting out, I just won the lottery. No, calls like that could wait for the morning light. Midnight calls were reserved for shocking headlines. A downed plane. Missing children. Earthquakes and fires. Nothing good comes in the dead of night. And this call on this night would be no different.
Natalie bolted from the couch and hurried to the kitchen. The voice on the other end of the line was an operator. “You have a collect call from an inmate in Marin County Jail, will you accept the charges?”
Natalie’s hand flew to her mouth as her stomach dropped. “Yes, yes, of course.”
A brief pause before a familiar voice crackled on the line. “Mommy, I’m in trouble.”
54 Sins of the Mother
The brief jail-house conversation provided only a postcard amount of information. Tess had been arrested, and either she wasn’t sure or didn’t want to say what the charges were. Natalie was her one phone call.
The next hour was a blur of phone calls of her own, as Natalie called Stan, then left a message for her old divorce attorney, Gregory Sinclair. Sinclair didn’t handle criminal cases, but he would at least be able to point them in the right direction.
Five hours away, Stan’s sleepy voice on the other end of the line snapped to attention when he heard Natalie’s voice. “What do you mean she’s in jail?”
“That’s all I know.” Natalie could hear a female voice in the background asking, “Who is it honey?”
“She only had a few minutes to talk.” Natalie stretched the phone cord to its limit as she paced the kitchen floor. “All she said was, it’s serious, but it’s all a big mistake. Said she’d explain everything later. We need a lawyer.”
Stan mumbled something, incoherent, then he said, “Hold tight. I’m on my way.”
“Hurry, Stan. She sounded so frightened.”
Monty was making coffee. Measuring grounds, pouring water and setting out coffee cups. Anything to stay busy. Natalie chewed on a fingernail and paced liked a caged jaguar. There was no use heading to the county jail in San Rafael, Tess said she wasn’t allowed visitors yet. Morning was still hours away. More than enough time for Natalie to spin a dozen scenarios. All of them ending with Tess’s tearful voice on the other end of the line, “Mommy, I’m in trouble.”
Lew Glass’s expensive shoes tapped against the polished linoleum, as he strode with purpose toward Stan and Natalie.
Stan rose to meet him. “What did you find out?”
“Let’s sit down.” Lew motioned to a seating area nearby. The trio pulled their chairs close, bumping knees.
Natalie had never met the high-profile San Francisco lawyer before, but he looked like someone who could handle anything. The air of authority that hovered around him, had been earned. “He’s used to winning,” Gregory Sinclair had told her. Yet Natalie was relieved to find he wasn’t cocky, just polished.
Natalie’s eyes flicked to his manicured nails as he thumbed through notes, taken during his conversation with Tess.
“It’s a serious charge.” He looked up at them. “Attempted murder.”
Natalie and Stan gasped in unison. “Murder?”
Lew nodded. “California Penal Code allows the state to prosecute anyone who was in on the crime. There is no distinction between an accomplice or the principal.”
Natalie sunk against the back of the chair. “What has she gotten herself mixed up in?” Her eyes were wild as she turned to Stan.
Stan reached over and patted her hand, although his eyes never left Lew’s face. “What happened?’
Lew didn’t blink. “Apparently it was a drug deal gone bad. Tess’s boyfriend—” he looked back at his notes for the name, “Brad Batson went to collect the money that was owed to him for a drug sale. The argument got heated, Brad shot him, then ran to the car. Tess was waiting with the car running.”
He delivered the facts like Dragnet’s Detective Friday. Staccato. No frills.
“Did Tess know what was going down?” Natalie was almost too afraid to ask.
“She says she didn’t.” Lew’s face gave nothing away. “She said as far as she knew, Brad just intended to go there and scare the guy into giving him what he was owed. The fact that she was aware Brad was carrying a weapon, doesn’t look good, though.”
“Oh my God.” Natalie felt her world caving in around her.
I knew it. I knew Tess was playing us again. Why didn’t I listen to my gut?
“Is she eligible for bail?” Stan asked.
“Bail hearing is set for tomorrow morning at nine.”
“She has to spend another night in jail?” Natalie couldn’t keep her voice from shaking.
“I’m afraid so.” Lew opened his briefcase and tossed Tess’s file on top of several other colored folders. Each packet representing a person who was hoping that Lew Glass’s winning streak didn’t end with them.
Lew rose, signaling the end of their meeting. He shook Stan’s hand. “I’ll see you two in the morning. I’ll have my secretary call with the details, regarding the courtroom.” Then he leaned toward Natalie, his hand on her arm. “Don’t worry, Miss Hampton, Tess will be fine. We’ll get her out of here.”
“Thank you,” Natalie mouthed the words she couldn’t find the strength to speak.
She felt Stan’s arm slip around her shoulders and guide her toward the exit. She moved her feet, one foot in front of the other, but had no memory of how she got home.
Not wanting to intrude on a family in crisis, Monty left early that morning, before Stan arrived. Now, Nora was waiting for them with a fresh pot of coffee.
“What’s happened to our girl?” she asked as soon as they pushed through the kitchen door.
Like shipwreck survivors, Natalie and Stan each reached for a kitchen chair. Natalie falling onto her seat before knees buckled beneath the stress, while Stan eased himself down in slow motion, eyes straight ahead. The two-hour car ride home from the jail had passed mostly in silence. Both lost in a world of their own thoughts.
Horror swept over Nora’s face as the grim news was relayed, her eyes blinking back tears. And the retelling caused a fresh wave of panic to wash over Natalie. She looked around her tidy kitchen; the California sun streaming through French doors. Her surroundings out of sync with the seriousness of the moment, as if two different movies were playing on the same screen.
Nora decided a late breakfast was the only answer to the problems at hand. Besides Stan had driven all night and must be famished.
“You can sleep in the guest room, if you want,” Natalie offered as she rose from the kitchen table. “I’m not hungry. I’m going to lie down for a bit.”
Lying on top of the covers, too exhausted to undress, Natalie pulled the comforter up to her chin and closed her eyes as tears tracked down her cheeks.
Oh, my baby girl, what have you done?
The Carmel Pinecone was laying on the kitchen table the next morning. A local newspaper usually devoid of the
grim headlines seen in big cities, now had a headline of its own.
Local Resident Natalie Hampton’s Daughter
Held On Attempted Murder Charges.
Natalie stared at the newspaper, the words slipping and sliding in and out of focus. Trying to make sense of a story with missing chapters. Daughter. Attempted murder. The words didn’t fit, no matter how she tried to line them up. Too many puzzle pieces were missing.
She might not have all the answers, but one thing she knew for sure, Tess would suffer not only for her own poor decisions, but because she was the daughter of Natalie Hampton.
In the still of a California morning, Natalie was transported back to Rome, when Nora sat across a kitchen table and wondered aloud how much of Natalie’s mental break-down belonged to her. Now, thousands of miles and a decade later, Natalie sat at a different kitchen table, watching the wheel spinning in place.
55 Orange
“Oh my God, Stan, look at this.”
Network news vans were lining the street a block before they reached the courthouse. Stan parked at the curb, in a spot that had seemingly been saved for them, and before he could get to Natalie’s door, the press descended like a swarm of locusts. He elbowed his way to the passenger side and reached for Natalie’s hand.
Lew Glass appeared like a god from Mt. Olympus to escort them threw the throng. He marched to the courthouse, head held high, nodding at photographers while Natalie and Stan followed close on his heels, heads tucked down, giving away nothing.
“Miss Hampton, is your daughter guilty?”
“Miss Hampton, give us a statement.”
“Miss Hampton, what can you tell us about the charge of attempted murder?”
Shouts, followed by microphones thrust in her face, almost knocked Natalie off balance and if Stan hadn’t pulled her along, she wasn’t sure if she could have made it up the courthouse steps.