Thank You for Listening

Dedication
Tothosewehaveloved.
Particularlypartners.
Particularlymine.Contents
Cover
TitlePage
Dedication
Part1
ChapterOne:“AWomanGoesonaJourney”
ChapterTwo:“TheBestFriend”
ChapterThree:“TheStakes”
ChapterFour:“TheMakeover”
ChapterFive:“TheNotoriousRake”
ChapterSix:“WhatHappensinVegas”
Part2
ChapterSeven:“TheOffer”
ChapterEight:“TheDecision”
Part3
ChapterNine:“Epistolary”
Part4
ChapterTen:“SnowedIn”
ChapterEleven:“TheReveal”
ChapterTwelve:“TheReckoning”
ChapterThirteen:“TheBreak”
Part5
ChapterFourteen:“TheRetreat”
ChapterFifteen:“GettingtoKnowYou”
ChapterSixteen:“TheConsummation”
ChapterSeventeen:“TheProposal”
ChapterEighteen:“TheResolve”
ChapterNineteen:“TheReconciliation”
Coda
Epilogue:“AStrangerComestoTown”
Acknowledgments
P.S.Insights,Interviews&More…*
AbouttheAuthor
AbouttheBook
PraiseforThankYouforListening
AlsobyJuliaWhelan
Copyright
AboutthePublisherPart1
Allofliteratureisoneoftwostories:amangoesonajourneyorastrangercomestotown.
–LeoTolstoy
Prologuesarelikeflirting:there’satimeandplace.Butsometimesyoujustneedtopushthereaderupagainstthewallandstickyourtonguedowntheirthroat.
–JuneFrench,USATodaybestsellingauthoroftheLoveComesHardseries,astoldtoCosmopolitanChapterOne
“AWomanGoesonaJourney”
THINGSWEREHEATINGUPWITHNOPOSSIBILITYOFCOOLINGDOWN.Notthistime.Shecouldseeitinhiseyes.Hispupilswerethrobbing.Thegentlemanofthelastthreeweekswasgone.Hewasnowanythingbutgentle.Hewasallman.
Theireyeswerelockedandloaded.Heraisedhishandandflatteneditagainstherwhitesilkblouse.Herheartbeatgrabbedatit.Hekissedher,hotly,wetly,thentookholdofherstraddledhipsandliftedheroffhim.Shegaveastartledcryasheflippedher–
“Somethingtodrink?”
–ontoherbackonhisexpensivecrepedeChinecouch.
“Ma’am?”
“Weshouldn’tbedoingthis,”hegrowled.“You’remyintern.AndGrandfatherinsistsImarryCaroline.”
“Somethingtodrink?”
Thelong-sufferingtonebrokethroughandSewaneeChester,startledwindowseatoccupant,whippedoffhernoise-cancelingheadphonesasiftheywereonfire.“What?Sorry!What?”
“Somethingtodrink?”
“Uh.Justwater.Please.”
“Ice?”
“Uh,just–please.”
Shedroppedhertrayandtheflightattendantpassedherthewater.BeforeSewaneecouldthankher,thewomanontheaisleturnedtoherdaughterinthemiddleseatandasked,inthesqueaky,love-drippingvoiceusedinterchangeablyforpetsandchildren,“Anythingtodriiiiink?”
“Juice!”
“Whatkiiiiindofjuice?”
Sewaneeslippedherheadphonesbackonandrealizedshehadn’tstoppedtheaudiobook.Theblousewasoffnow.Shesighed,pausedit,connectedtothein-flightWi-Fi,andtextedMark:
Goodmorning.Ihateyou.
Shehitsendandsippedherwater.
Twentysecondslater,hereplied:
Igaveyouoneofthewell-reviewedones!
SEWANEE:
Hispupilsarethrobbing,Mark.HisPUPILS.
WhileMarktyped(bubbles,bubbles,bubbles…hewaspushingseventy,shecuthimsomeslack),Sewaneedrank.
MARK:
Don’tbeasnob.NotallofushaveEnglishproffathershoney.
SEWANEE:
thishasnothingtodowithsnobbery.ORmyfather.ThishastodowithANATOMY.
Markignoredthis:
Reallyappreciateyoufillingin.
SEWANEE:
Anythingforyou.How’sthefoot?
MARK:
Stillbroken.How’syou?
SEWANEE:
Iwanttochangethenameofthepanel.
MARK:
What’swrongwithFakingit:NarratingLoveandSexinRomanceNovels?
SEWANEE:
Iwasthinking…NarratingRomanceNovels:HowtoGiveGoodAural.
Shefinishedthewater,tippingherheadallthewayback.Theicecubesmountedtheirescape,rammingherteethsoforcefullywatershotdownherneckandontohershirt.
“Youspilled!”
Sewaneesmiledtightlyatthechildwhilesettinghercupdowninthecircularplaypenatthecornerofthetray.Hadthatlittlelipeverpreventedcupsfromoverturningduringturbulence?Shewantedthenumbersonthat.
MARK:
IknowhowyoufeelaboutRomancebutyou’llgetthrewthis.Justpleasetakeitseriously.
SEWANEE:
*Through.
OverthePA,amaleflightattendantannounced,“Ladiesandgentlemen,Iknowwejustfinishedservice,butinafewminutes,we’llbestartingourdescentintoLasVegas.Atthistime,we’llneedyoutoputawayallelectronicdevices–”
Sewaneelookeddownatherphone.Markhadfinishedtyping.
MARK:
Thefansareinsane.Youshouldseethefacebookgroups.Youdon’tno.
SEWANEE:
*know.Wetalkedaboutthis.Igetit.
MARK:
duckingautocorrect!ThisisBiblioCon!50KattendeesandtheRomancepavilionisatleastathirdofthem.
“Ma’am,Ineedyoutoputupyourtray.”
Sewaneedid.
“Ialsoneedyoutoputyourseatup.”
“Itwon’tgoup.”Sewaneekepttypingintoherphone.
TheflightattendantreachedacrossthemotherandchildtoyankSewanee’sseatforward.Thelittlegirlturnedtohelpherforamoment,thenthrewherstickyhandsupindefeat.“Itwon’tgoup!”
“Thankyou,”Sewaneemuttered.
“Welcome,”shereplied.
SEWANEE:
Mark,IsaidIgetit.Big!Yuge!Yougetabookandyougetabookandyougetabook!
MARK:
Anddon’tforgettoenjoyyourself,Oprah.Vegas,Baby!LOL.
Sewaneepulleduphere-mailandrecheckedtheoverwhelmingnumberofBiblioConevents.ShenarroweditdowntoRomanceprogrammingandshuffledthroughauthortalks,signings,cocktailhours,andasilentauctionforcharity.Shelaughedoutloudatonehighlighteditem:dinnerwithamalecovermodel.Shethenperusedtheplethoraofpanelsonoffer:CrossedSwords:WritingM/MRomanceWhenYouDon’tHaveaSwordofYourOwn;HowtoWritePeriodClothingandHowtoTakeItOff;and,ofcourse,herownpanelonaudiobookproductionthatMark–hermentor,boss,andlandlord–wouldhavebeenmoderatinghimselfifhehadn’trunoverhisfootwithhisowncartwodaysago.ThatredKarmannGhia,Sal,wastheclosestthingMarkhadhadtoalong-termrelationshipsincehe’dfledSanFranciscoinitfifteenyearsago.Afterhispartner,Julio,died.
She’dbeenhappytohelphimoutwithBiblioCon,butthereweretwoproblems.Maybethree.WhileshewasessentiallyMark’sGirlFriday,helpinghimruntherecordingstudioheoperatedoutofhishomeintheHollywoodHillsinexchangeforlivinginitshillsideguesthouse,shewasn’tanaudiobookproducerlikeMark;shewasanarrator.Thesecondproblemwasshewasanarratorwhodidn’tnarrateRomance.She’ddoneitinthebeginningwhenshewascuttingherteeth,recordeditunderapseudonymasmanynarratorsdid,butoncehercareertookoff,she’dretiredheralias,quitRomance,andneverlookedback.Lastly,shewasn’tevenafanofthegenre.
Shedidn’tbelongintheRomancepavilion.
Shedouble-checkedtheinfoMarkhadforwardedher.Shehadnothinguntiltomorrow.Thepanelinthemorning,thenboothdutyonthegeneralconventionfloorfortherestoftheday,answeringauthors’questionsaboutaudiobookproduction.AquickflightbackonSundayafternoon.Aneasyforty-eighthoursofherlife.Plus,shegottobeinVegasatthesametimeasherbestfriend,whohadalsobeenropedintoattendingtheconference.Butforverydifferentreasons
“Areyouapirate?”
Sewaneestartled,turnedtothelittlegirl,andfoundherstaring.
Themotherstartled,too.“Hannah!”
“Shelookslikeapirate.”
Themothertookherchildintoahug,convenientlymuzzlingher.“You’llhavetoforgiveher.She’sfour.”
“I’malmostgonnabefive!”Hannahsoundedlikeshewasarguingintoapillow.
“It’sokay.”Sewaneegaveheranindulgentsmile.“No,I’mnotapirate.”
Hannahwriggledoutofhermother’schokeholdandturnedfullytoSewanee.“Butyouhaveapatchonyoureye.”
“Hannah.”Sharperthistime.ByLosAngelesparentingstandards,itmighthavebeenconsideredstern.Shepivotedtowardherdaughter,scootingtotheedgeofherseat,looseningherseatbelt,gettingdirectlyinfrontofherchildandonherlevel,asshe’dprobablybeencoachedtodo.Ateachingmomentwasuponthem.“Wedon’taskstrangerspersonalquestions,sweetness.You’reso,so,sosmart,andIcherishyourcuriosity,butwerespectpeople’sprivacy,mmkay?”Thehigh-pitchedpetvoicewasback.
HannahturnedtowardSewaneeagain.“Butwhydoyouhaveit?”
Hermotherturnedherbackaround.“Now,see,BananaBread,that’sapersonalquestion,isn’tit?”
“Don’tcallmeBananaBread,Itoldyou.Ihateit.”
“I’msorry.”
HannahwriggledbacktoSewanee.“Areyouhurt?”
OnemoreHailMary,“Hannah!”ButSewaneewasusedtothislineofquestioning.Shesupposeditwasrefreshingthat,atthemoment,itwasn’tcomingfromadrunkguyinabar.
“Nope.Notanymore.”
“But,but,ifyou’renothurt,whyisitgot–”
Thatsaid,Sewanee’spatienceextendedonlysofar.“I’dlovetokeeptalkingtoyou,”shesaid,tappingtheBluetoothheadphonesaroundherneck,“butIneedtofinishmywork.”Sheglancedatthemotherforparentalassistance.
“Oh,ofcourse!Fourisjustsuchacuriousage–”
“Five!”
Sewaneeshookherhead.“It’stotallyfine.I’mjustondeadlineandifIdon’tfinishlisteningtothis,Icouldenduplookingforanewjob.”
Blametheimprovbackground,theactingtraining,achildhoodlivinginstories,butSewaneecouldlie.Easily.Toherselfasmuchasanyoneelse.Sheliftedtheheadphonesoffherneckandsecuredthemoverherears.Shepressedplayonherphone.Nosound.Sheturnedupthevolume.Stillnothing.Sheturneditallthewayup.
Inherperipheralvision,shesawthemotherclaspherhandsoverHannah’sears,pullherintohernarrowchest,andbughereyesatSewanee.
No.
God,no.
Sherippedtheheadphonesoffintimetohear,atfullvolume:
“Hethrustherlegsapart,splayingheropen,exposinghersecretplacetohisthrobbingeyes.Alreadypulsing,glistening,hergenerous–”
Sewaneestabbedsofiercelyatthepausebuttonthephoneshottothefloor.Shescrambledforit,theaudiobookcontinuing:
“‘Sayit,’hegrowled.‘Iwanttohearyousayit.’Hegaveheronequick,teasinglick.Shemoaned.‘Sayyouwantmy–’”
ThephonehadfallenunderHannah’sdangling,light-upDisney-princesssneakers.Sewaneegrabbedit,jerkedupright,and–inthreestabs–stoppedtheaudiobook…justaftertheword“cock.”
Shestareddownatthephone,ignoringtheglaredrillingintohertemple.Shetook,whatshehoped,wasacasual-seemingbreath.Then,asifnothinghadhappened(denialwasanotherskillshe’dhoned),sheturnedfullyawayfrommotherandchildandlookedoutthewindow.
Onceshe’dfocused,actuallytookintheviewtheirdescentoffered,sheconcludedLasVegashadaratherflaccidlookduringtheday.AllthatnighttimeneonwaslikeVegasViagra.
Sheshiftedinherseat.WhotakesakidtoLasVegas,anyway?shethoughtrighteously,ifirrationally.Greatparenting.Sheknewmotherslikethat.Hell,shehadamotherlikethat.Soft,over-loving.She’dbeenraisedthewayHannahwasbeingraised.WestsideofL.A.(youcouldtellbythemother’sropeyyogaarms,herrootlessdyejob,herthoroughlymoisturizedskin),schoolswithfeelings,parentswhowantedthebestfortheirchildwhileensuringtheirchildwasthebest.Whosaidyoucouldbeanything,doanything,dreamsdocometrue,you’respecial,you’reanointed.Justbenicetoeveryone,respecteveryone,tellthetruth,workhard,andeverythingwillfallintoplace.Youwilllivehappilyeverafter.
Well,goodluckwiththat,Hannah.
Becausethisishowitactuallygoes
AstunninglyaveragewomanthewrongsideofthirtyonherwaytoVegas,wearinganeyepatch,sittinginabrokenseat,listeningtoporn.ChapterTwo
“TheBestFriend”
SEWANEEASSESSEDHERSELFINTHEGILDEDMIRROROFTHEVENETIAN’Selevator.Unwashedhair,saggyjeans,rumpledT-shirt,zip-uphoodiewithsomeunidentifiablebreakfast-ystainnearthezipper.NowonderthewomanwhogaveherthekeyattheVIPloungehadlookedconfused.
Whentheelevatordoorsopenedonthethirty-fifthfloor,shefollowedsignstotheright.Stoppingatthecorrectdoor,sheslippedherbackpackoff(carefully–herrightshoulderstillscreamedsometimes)andsetitontopofherrollerbag.Sheopenedthedoorwiththekeycard.
Amarblehallwaybeckonedher.Sheglideddownit,passingapowderroomlargerthanherguesthousebathroom.Ontheoppositeside,abutler’spantry/barthatcouldhaveservicedtheentirehotel.Eventuallyshewasstandinginthemiddleofasunkenultra-modernmarblelivingroomwithfloor-to-ceilingwindowsoverlookingtheStrip.
“Youmadeit!”
Shepivotedleft,lookeddownanotherlonghallway,andsawthebathrobedandbarefoottwo-timeGoldenGlobe–nominated,one-timeOscar-nominated(theydidn’ttalkaboutthatdiscrepancy),L’Oréalspokesmodel,andUNICEFambassador,AdakuObisprintingtowardher.
BeforeSewaneecouldrespond,Adakuwasuponher,wrappingherinafierce,all-encompassinghug.Adaku’shugsalwaysbeganwithswaying,movedintomeditativestillness,andendedwithdeepyogabreathing.Thegirlknewhowtostayinthemoment.Evenifitwasonlyforamoment.
Adakupulledbackandsmiledbig.“Isn’tthisinsane?!It’sginormous!Stupid!”Adakuhadalwaysspokeninexclamatorybursts,butthetempohadincreased,Sewaneehadnoticed,indirectproportiontohersuccess.“Andguesswhat?!You’llneverguesssoI’lltellyou.There’retwobedrooms!”ShegaveSewaneeateasingpush.
Sewaneepushedherback.“Onlytwo?”
Adakuguffawedandpushedheragain.“ThatI’vefoundsofar!Nowyouhavetostaywithme!”
Sewaneescannedthesprawl.Shookherhead.“MarkalreadypaidformysuiteattheRio.”
Adakugaveheralook.“Aren’talltheroomsattheRio‘suites’?”Shefinger-quotedthelastword.
Sewaneereachedforherhand,smiling.“Ican’tleaveMarkwithabillforahotelIdidn’tuse.”
“Howmuchisit?”
SewaneesqueezedAdaku’shand,shookitforgoodmeasure.“No,no,no.YouknowIhatethat.”OffAdaku’spursedlips,sheadded,“Don’tdotheface.”
“Whatface?”
“Youknowexactlywhatface.”
“Idon’tknowwhat–”
“A!”SewaneedroppedAdaku’shandandwalkedtothewindow.Dammit.Itwasaspectacularview.
Adakuwasstarringinafilmbasedonlastyear’snumberoneNewYorkTimes’sbestsellingbook.Shewasdoingamain-stageinterviewwiththeauthor,aVIPmeet-and-greet,anautographhour,andsomeinternationalpressjunketthing.NosideshowRomancepavilionforher.AtBiblioCon,sheherselfwasthemainevent.
Inthewindow’sreflection,SewaneewatchedAdakucomeupbehindherandspreadherarmsout,aqueenaddressingherpeoplefarbelow.“We’relivingthedream,Swan!I’vegotbottleserviceattheclub,alimoonstandby,afreakingbutleratmytwenty-four-hourbeckandcall!”
Sewaneepaused.Adaku,bornandbredinthewhiteChicagosuburbs,thirddaughteroftwolovelybutdemandingNigeriandoctors,wasfinallyallowingherselftoenjoyherhard-wonaccomplishments.Ithadbeenalongtimecoming.Peoplethoughtsuccesshappenedfasterthanitdid.Abest-supporting-actressnominationdidnotcomewithaswagbagofprivatejets,penthouses,andPorsches.Adakuhadjustboughtherfirsthouse,atwo-bedroombungalowinEchoPark,thankstotheL’Oréalmoney.Thiswasthefirsttimetheredcarpethadbeenrolledouttothisextent.AdakuObiwasstarringinafilmandthestudiowantedtomakeherhappy.
Soitwasearned.And,yes,itwasfun.ButSewaneewantedtourgecaution.Toslowherdownabit.Tellherthatlifewassubjecttochangewithoutnotice.ButshesquashedtheimpulseandusedamoveoutofAdaku’sownplaybook:whenshecouldn’tsaywhatshewantedto,shechangedthesubject.“I’msorry,whyaren’twedrinkingchampagnerightnow?”
AdakubarkedhersignaturelaughandsqueezedSewanee’sshoulders.“Becauseit’schillin’inthefancySub-Zerofridge!”Asshescamperedoff,sheyelledoverhershoulder,“TheygavemeCristal!”
Sewaneeturnedbacktothewindowandgaveherselfagood,firm,mentalshake.Shewashappy,genuinely,forherfriend.ThishadnothingtodowithAdaku.Adakuwasn’ttheproblem.
Sheheardthepopofthecork,theglugofthepour,andtheposhlittlepatterofAdaku’sbareballerinafeetonthemarblebehindher.
SheturnedawayfromthewindowandAdakuhandedhertheglassofbubbly,lookingSewaneedirectlyintheeye.“Toourdreamcomingtrue.”
Sewaneetoastedherandtookalargeswigofthebestchampagneshe’deverhad.
“Okay!Whatdowewanttodo?IhavethatdinnerItoldyouaboutbutI’mfreeuntilthen.Let’sgetthispartystarted!”Sewaneeknew,becauseshekneweverythingaboutherbestfriend,thatwhileanyonewhofoundthemselvesinAdaku’swhirlingdervishofapresencewouldswearotherwise,shehadneverdonecocaine.
“Whateveryouwant!Ican’tcheckinuntilthreeo’clockso…”
AdakurolledhereyesandSewaneecouldseeanotherargumentforditchingtheRioforming,soshequicklysaid,“Ihavetodosomeworktonight,solet’shavefunbutnottoomuch.Tomorrownight,I’mallin.Speakingof,IbroughtfivehundreddollarsandI’mputtingitonredorblack.Haven’tdecidedwhichyet.Whoknows,maybeI’llgetlucky.”
“Oh,you’regettingluckyifIhaveanythingtosayaboutit!It’sbeenwaytoolong.”Adakuheldupherglassagain.Sewaneeclinkedit,chuckling,andtheybothsaid,simultaneously,effortlessly,freely,“Iloveyou.”TheysippedandthebubblesfeltlikePopRocksonSwan’stongueand,suddenly,shewascontent.That’swhatAdidforher.
AdakusetherglassdownonasidetableSewaneethoughtmighthavebeenasculptureandclappedherhandstogether.“So!Ihavetodoaphoneinterviewintenminutes,shouldn’tbemorethanhalfanhour–atleastmypublicistpromiseditwouldn’tbe–andthenwehitit!”SherefilledSewanee’sglasswhilesaying,“Youtakethis,goluxuriateinthespa”–shepointeddownyetanotherlonghallway–“fixyourself”–shelookedSwanupanddown–“andgetreadytopartaaay!”ShetwirledoutoftheroomonthelastwordlikeStevieNicks,champagnesloshingoutofherglassandsplattingonthemarble.
Sewaneesmiledandwalkeddowntheothercavernoushallway,stoppinginhertracksatthedoortothebathroom.
Oh,okay.Itwasanactualspa.Therewasasteamroom,asauna,andamassagetableallsurroundingaJapanesesoakingtub.Shewasn’tsurewheretogofirst.Thetubcalledtoher,soshestrippeddown–eyepatchandall–andslippedintotheperfectlyregulated104-degreewater.
Assheadaptedtoit,hermindwanderedbacktothestudioapartmentinWashingtonHeights.TheoneshehadsharedwithAdakuwhentheywereinschool.Theonewheretheyhadhuddledtogetherunderblanketswhenthefurnacehadgoneoutandplayedthe“whenwe’refamous”game.Julliardhadbeensuckingthemdry,financiallyandemotionally,butthey’dhadabottomlesswellofoptimismthatcouldonlycomefromyouthandinexperience.Whenwe’refamous,we’lleatsushieverynight.Whenwe’refamous,peoplewillstopusonthestreetandsayhowmuchtheyloveourwork.Whenwe’refamous,we’llhavereliableheating.Whenwe’refamous.
Notyou.Notme.We.
Sewaneehadn’tknownthenhowquicklyadreamcouldbecomeathingthatmockedyou.
TURNEDOUT,VEGASbydaywasnotasflaccidasSewaneehadthought.SheandAdakuhadalreadywindow-shoppedandpeople-watched,andtheywerenowtuckedintotwoclubchairsinabeautifulbarsomewhereintheVenetian’sGrandCanalShoppes,sippingsomethingexpensive.Free,butexpensive.OnceAdakuhadsignedacocktailnapkin“ToRoy,AlwaysAdaku,”theireagerserverhadupgradedtheirvodkasodastosomethingsweetdustedwithgoldflake.“Doweneedtoworryaboutheavymetalpoisoning?”Sewaneejokedoncehe’dleft.Adakuhadsniffedthesurfaceofthedrink,said,“But,whatawaytogo,”andtookasip.Sewaneefollowedsuit.
“So,how’sBlahBlahdoing?”Adakuasked.
“Oh,youknow,”Sewaneesighed.“Physically,she’sokay.Mentally?YoueverseenMemento?”
Adakugrimaced.“Isshe…doesshestillrememberwhoyouare?”
“Oh,yeah.IstartedbringinghermyaudiobooksandIthinkhearingmyvoicewhenI’mnottherehelpsherremembermewhenIam.”
“Amazing.Andhowaboutyourdad?”
“Sheremembershim,too.Unfortunately.”
Adakuchuckled.“Imeanthowistheoldbathrobe?”
Sewaneeguffawed,theysettheiremptyglassesdown,andRoyappeared,asifhe’dbeenwaitinginthewingsforjustsuchacue.“Youguysdoingokay?Ordoweneedsomemoregoldforthat?”
“Mybartendingmagician!”Adakuflirted.“Abracadabra,please!”Sheheldupbothemptyglasses.
“Yourwishismycommand.”Royrelievedheroftheglasses.“Backinaflash.”Hemadeawhooshingsoundasheleft,presumablyvanishing.
“Isthereanythingyoucan’tgetamantodo?”Sewaneemarveled.
“Commit?”AsSewaneelaughed,Adakuturnedherattentiontotheroom,scanningit,radarlookingforablip.“Speakingofmen,seeanyonecute?”
Sewaneedidn’tlook.“No.”
“Comeon!We’reinVegas!”Adakuleanedin,grinningdevilishly.“WhathappensinVegas,staysin–”
“Onlyifyouuseprotection.”Adakuchuckled,butSewaneemadeasoundlikeahissingcat.“IthinkIhaveagoldflakecaughtinmythroat.”
Atthatmoment,Royreappeared,makingthesamewhooshingsound,andSewaneestifledherhacking.
“Heappears!”Adakuexclaimed.“RoytheRemarkable!”
“WhatelsecanIconjureforyouladies?”heasked,throughhisVegasgrin.
AdakucaughtSewanee’seye.Asilentconversationensued.Howabouthim?Adakuasked.Sewaneeimperceptiblytippedherchindown.No.
Adakuignoredher,turningtoRoy.“Bytheway,thisismybestfriend,Sewanee.”
“Shauney?”
“No,SWAH-nee.Likeswanthebirdandkneethejoint.”
Sewaneecringed.“CallmeSwan.Likethebird.Forgetthejointthing.”
“Thisisthecoolnametable,huh?”Heofferedalittlewindshieldwiperwave.“So,Swaaaan,yousomebody,too?”
“Uh,yes.”Sheclearedherthroatonemoretime.“Aren’tweall?”
“Ha!”Hefinger-gunnedher,makingyetanothersound.“Pewpew.Imeant,youfamous,too?”
Adakuleanedin.“She’sthegreatestlivingaudiobooknarratorontheplanet!”
Sewaneeheldupahand.“That’snot–”
“Audiobooks?”Roy’seyebrowsshotup.“Dude,that’smyjam!YoudoneanythingIwouldhavelistenedto?”
Shesippedhercocktailanddiscoveredthesecrettodislodginggoldflakewas,apparently,moregoldflake.
Meanwhile,Adakusaid,“You’veheardher,trustme.Shedoes,like,everybigbook!She’swoneveryawardthatcanbewon!HaveyoulistenedtoThemHills?”SewaneehadtogiveAdakucreditforsizingthisguyup.Iftherewereanybookshe’dnarratedthathe’dprobablylistenedto,itwasgoingtobelastyear’shyper-masculinizedbest-sellingWestern.ButchCassidyandtheSundanceKidtoldfromthewoman’sperspective.
Helituplikeaslotmachine.“Dude!Dude!Thatbookrocked!Thatwasyou?”
Shepresentedherselfawkwardlywithherhands.
RoypeeredatSewanee,seeingheranew.“Youcrushedit!Wait,sodidyoumeettheguywhoplayedButchandSundance?Doyou,like,recordtogether?”
AdakuandSewaneelookedateachotherthenbackatRoy.Adakusaid,“Whatguy?”
“Theguy!Theguywhovoicedtheguys.”
AdakuandSewaneelookedateachotheragain.Adakusaid,“Thatwasn’taguy.”
“No,theButch-and-Sundance-guyguy.”
“Ohhhh,thatguy.Yeah,hewasn’taguy.”Adakuwasenjoyingthisabittoomuch.
“Whowasn’taguy?”
“Theguyreading.”
“Wasn’taguy?”
“Nope.”
SewaneeintervenedbeforeAdakushort-circuitedRoy.“Whatshe’stryingtosayis,itwasme.”
Roytookamomentwiththis.Anextendedmoment.Henarrowedhiseyes.“Oh,Isee.”HeturnedtoAdaku.“YouthinkIthinkshedidthewholebook,includingtheguys!”Royguffawed.“NowayIwouldhavethoughtthat!ButIcanunderstandhowyouwouldthinkIthoughtthat.”
Adaku’sheadjerkedaroundonhernecklikeamalfunctioningrobot.“Well.Gladweclearedthatup!”
RoyturnedbacktoSwan.“So,whowastheguy?”
Sewaneeconsideredmakingupanameandmovingon.Adakuwasnohelpatthispoint,havingsubmergedherlaughingfaceinherdrink.She’dgiveitonemorego.“Roy?”Hertonewaskindergartenteacher.“Theguy?Theguys?Wereme.”
Roythrewhisheadback.“Notyou,too!Theguy–”
“Roy?”Sametone.Helookedatheragain.“WhenIrecordedThemHills,the…bookpeople?Hadmedoallthevoices.ButchandSundanceincluded.”
Silence.“Allthevoices?”
“Allthevoices,”Sewaneerepeated
Roystilled.Thentiltedhishead.HelookedlikeaLabradorwaitingforacommand.
Shedroppedhervoicetoaplacethatwassecondnatureatthispoint.“‘Someday,Butch,you’regonnadieandthenyou’llrealizeyouneverreallylived.’”
Roystaredather.
Sewaneetookasipofherdrink,waiting.
Finally:“Dude.”
Adakubangedthetable.“Amazing,right?!”
ThesoundsnappedRoyoutofhisconfusion.Nowhewasawestruck.“Howdoyoudothat?”
Sewaneewavedhiminandspokequietly,mysteriously.“Keepittoyourself.KnowwhatImean?”
Helookedasthoughhehadbeenallowedtopeekbehindacurtain.Heslowlybobbedhishead.“Riiiight.Totally.”Hewinkedknowinglyandheadedbacktohispostatthebar.
Adakutookamoment.Thenshrugged.“Okay,sonothim!”
“HITME!”
They’dlandedatablackjacktable.Adakuwasplaying,Sewaneewaswatching.
Thedealerturnedoverthenextcard.“Twenty-one.”
“Bam!”AdakupulledSewaneedownintotheseatnexttoher.“Comeon!Play!”Shepushedastackof$25chipsinfrontofherandsaidtothedealer,“She’splaying.”
“Notwithyourmoney.”
“Shhhh.Tenminutes!Tenlittleminutes!I’monaroll.Thenwe’llgofindyourroulettewheel.”
“Ihaveprepworkto–”
“Thebooksaren’tgoinganywhere,Swan.”
Thedealersaid,“Cardchange,ladies.It’llbeacoupleminutes.”
Relieved,Sewaneesatback.
Andsensedtwoguysskulkupbehindthem.
“’Scuseme?”ThetalleronetappedAdakuonhershoulder.
Sewaneewatchedherpullawayfromthetouchevenassheturnedtothemwithherstockyes-it’s-mesmile.“Hi!”
“Holycrapolla.Itisyou!Wewasn’tsure.”
“Iwassure,”hisshortercompanionputin.“AcuraOboe!”
SewaneesighedaudiblyandgotAdaku’sfootinhershin.
Adakusmiledbigger.“AdakuObi.”
“Yeah.”Thetalleronesnappedhisfingers.“I’mChuck.ThiswasteofspaceisJimbo.”
ChuckhadaglassyglintinhiseyesSewaneedidn’tlike.HekeptstaringatAdaku.“Igottatellya,betweenyouandme?Youremindmeofthis–”Heturnedtohisfriend.“Jimbo,yourememberSheniqua?”
Jimbosnorted.“DoIrememberSheniqua.”
Sewaneewouldnevergetusedtoit,thethingssomementhoughttheycouldsay.Roywasharmless.Butthesetwo?Thesetwoweretroublebeforetheyevershowedup,wherevertheyshowedup,andparticularlyinAdaku’scase.AsSewaneedebatedwhethertostepin,sheplacedtheiraccents.Eastcoast.NotNewYork,nottheboroughs.DefinitelynotBoston.Jersey.Probablytheshore.BaddaBing.
“Hey,so.”ChuckdroppedahandonthebackofAdaku’schair,leaningdown.“Don’ttakethisthewrongway,butdoyoulikewhiteguys?”
Sewaneestoodupandsaid,“Okay,”asAdakusaid,lowly,sharply,“Don’t.”
Chuckliftedbothmeatyhands.“I’mjustsayin’!”
Jimbochuckled.“We’vehadalittletoomuchofalittletoomuch,ifyouknowwhatImean.”Theyfist-bumped.Sloppily.
Sewaneeknewtherehadbeenawindow,asmallwindow,afewyearsago,whenbeingrecognizedhadbeenenjoyable.Now,itfeltlikesurveillance.
Adakucaughtthepitboss’seye.Thatwasallittook.
Chuck,oblivious,steppedclosertoAdaku.“You’respecial.That‘it’thing.Youtwinkle.Allmischievousandshit.”
“Mischievous,”Sewaneesaidinthatwell-trainedvoiceofhers,which,despiteitslowvolume,madepeoplelisten.“Miss.Chi.Viss.”
Chucklookedatherforthefirsttime,surprisedtofindherthere.“Dat’swhatIsaid.”
“No,yousaid,miss-CHEE-vee-us.It’sMISS-chi-viss.”
“So?”
“Mis-chi-vissisaword.Miss-chee-vee-usisnot.”
Chuckstruckatheatricalposeofcontemplation,stubbyfingeronhisscruffychin.Heturnedtohisbuddy.“HeyJimbo,is‘bitch’aword?”HelookedbackatSewanee.“Isaydatright?”
Astheylaughed,twolargemenappeared.OnetookChuckbytheelbow.“Gentlemen,pleasecomewithus.”Therewerebriefprotests:Wedidn’tmeannothing;justhavingsomefun;waytotreatyourfans;youain’thotshit,youknow.Buttheywerealreadyontheirescortedwaytowardthenearestexit.
Sewaneesatbackdown.ShelookedatAdakuandsaid,“Okay,sonothim!”TheyweresharingaruefulsmilewhenChucktookonefinal,loudshotoverhisshoulder:
“Yo,bitch,catchyabackatTreasureIsland!”
ADAKUHADINSISTEDontakingSewaneetotheRiointhelimo.She’dcheckedintoherfourth-floorroom,threwopenthecurtainstorevealasumptuousparkinggarageview,madeacupoftea,putontheGolfChannel–herfavoritesourceofwhitebackgroundnoise–andworked.First,shewentoverthequestionsMarkhadgivenherforthepaneltomorrowmorning.
Thenshebeganpreppingabookshewasrecordinginafewweeks,makingwordlistsandfindingthecorrectpronunciations,identifyingtheemotionalarcofthestory,markingbreathpointsinsyntacticallychallengingpassages,mappingrelationshipsbetweenthecharacters,anddevelopingvoicesandaccents.Bookprephadbecomeasrelevanttoherasrehearsalhadoncebeenforperformingaplayorresearchingacharacterbeforeshootingafilm.ButSewaneeChesterhadn’tsteppedonastageorinfrontofacameraforsevenyears.
Afterafewhours,shesatback,realizingshewashungry,andabsentlyfiddledwiththeelasticofhereyepatchaboveherrightearasifitwerealockofhair.Inthebeginning,she’dtakenitoffwhenevershewasbyherself.Nowitwasjustanotherpartofher.Shepickedupthephoneandtreatedherselftoroomservice.
Thendidsomethingshehated:wentonFacebook.
Shehadletheractivitylapseaftertheaccident.Toomanysympathypostsandthen,seeminglyovernight,notenough.Whilepeoplepostedphotosoftheirengagementsandweddingsandfirstdogsandfirsthousesandfirstkidsandnowsecondkids,thelastpictureshe’dbeentaggedinhadbeenfromthehospital.Adakubyherside,bothsportingcheekythumbs-up.Shewasfrozenintimelikethat.
ButthenMarkhadgoneandsaid:Romanceaudiobookfansareinsane,youshouldseetheFacebookgroups.
SoshewenttoDixieBarton’spage,anarratorfriendwhohadmadeacareerdoingRomanceandwouldbeonthepaneltomorrow.HerrealnamewasdecidedlynotDixieBarton,butAliceDunlop.AlicehadchosenthepseudonymDixieBartonbecauseshe’dbeenafamousburlesquedancerinthe1940s.Sewaneelookedatthegroups“Dixie”belongedto:
RomanceRosies.
MidnightRiders.
AllThingsRomance.
Sheclickedontheonewiththemostmembers–twentythousand?!–andslippedintoanotherdimension.
Therewereatleastfiftypostsaday,someheraldingnewreleases(“book14intheKatyTotallyDidseriesisouttoday!Cometomama!”),someespousingloveforaspecificbookornarrator(“I’vestartedhearingJoeKincaid’svoiceinmydreams”),andsomeaskingforrecommendations(“anyonegotafunnym/m/fthreesomebook?MustbeFUNNY”).Authorsweremembersofthisgroupandnarratorswere,too.Butmostly,itwasthefans.
Fanswho,Sewaneediscoveredasshescrolledthroughthepage,couldlistentoabookaday.Fanswhomadedevotionalvideostotheirfavoritenarrators.Fanswhoimpatientlywaitedforanarrator’snextbookbecausetheyhadalreadylistenedtotheirwholecatalogue
SewaneeknewhowpopularRomancenovelswere(itwasn’tjustacategory,itwasapavilion,afterall),butshewassurprisedtoseenarratorshadtheirownfollowing.Thefanslovedthewomen…buttheyreveredthemen.Anditseemedoneinparticular,BrockMcNight,wasthereigningking.Thelackofsubtletyinthecommentsmadeitobvious.“Allhail!”and“ourresidentunicorn”and“BrockMcNight!IwantyoutoreadthissectiontomewhileIgodownonyou!”
Hokaythen.
SewaneeknewtherewasnowayBrockMcNightwashisrealname.Theexplicitnatureofthesebooksledmanynarrators–muchlikethebooks’authors–tousepseudonyms.Itwasanindustrynormandeveryonehadhisorherownreasonsfordoingsobut,likeasocietyofmagicians,theywereallsworntosecrecy.Apinnedpostatthetopofthepagepromisedthatanylistenerwho“outed”anarratorwithouttheirpermissionwouldbekickedoutofthegroup.
Good.
Markwasthepersonwho’dfirstsuggestedSewaneedoaudiobooks.They’dbeenseatednexttoeachotherinathirty-seatblackboxtheateratamutualfriend’sshowcaseandseemedtobetheonlytwopeopleintheaudiencenotimpressedbythetorturedwrithingonstage.Afteratwo-minuteconversationatintermissionaboutaudiobooks,hegaveherhiscard,saidshe’dhavetostartinindieRomance,andthatsheshouldpickanalias.She’dchosenherstrippername.Usingtheclassicmiddleschoolalgorithm,shecombinedherfirstpet(Sarah,ablackLabasloyalasshewasstupid)andthestreetshegrewupon(Westholme,ahalfmilefromtheUCLAcampuswhereherfathertaught).SarahWestholmesoundedrealistic.Somenarratorswenttheotherway.FluffyFoxtrot.DickLong.Andinthecaseofaverygay,veryLiberalnarratorsheadoredwhoonlyrecordedqueererotica,LindseyGraham,because“letthebastardcomeafterme,Idarehim.”
Theindustries–bothaudiobooksandindieRomance–hadgrownsomuchsinceshe’d“retired,”SewaneewassureSarahhadfadedintoobscurity.ButsheputheroldaliasintotheFacebookgroup’ssearchbartoseeifsheexisted.
Boy,didshe.Shewasanenigma.TheWhiteWhaleofRomance.Thepoststoldherasmuch:
Whyisn’tshenarratinganymore?
Whathappenedtoher??
OMG,shewasmyabsolutefavorite,why???
Noonedoesguyvoiceslikeher!ShadowWalkers?!Itdoesn’tgetbetterthanSWreadingJuneFrench!
ShadowWalkerswasthelastRomanceseriesshe’ddoneandshe’dlovedthosebooks.But,then,itwasJuneFrench.Whatwastherenottolove?Inthe’90s,JunehadbeenaniconicRomanceauthorhelpingtodefinethecategory.WhenshewentindiewiththeShadowWalkersseries,she’dhiredSarahtodotheaudiobooksandthey’dexploded.
JunewastheoneRomanceauthorSewaneehadfeltbadaboutabandoning.They’dworkedwelltogether,exchangedthoughtfule-mailsthatmadeSewaneefeeltheyprobablywouldhavebeenfriendsinreallife.SherecalledeventellingJune–inabstractterms–aboutwhathadhappenedtoher,whyshewasn’tactingon-cameraanymore.Whenshe’dheardonlyafewweeksagothatJunehaddied–ashockwavestillworkingitswaythroughtheaudiobookcommunity–thenewshadhitherinanunexpectedlytenderplace.
Theknockonthedoorstartledher.Foramoment–brief,butstill–sheimaginedherselfinaJuneFrenchnovel.Whatadventuremightshefindontheothersideofthedoor?
Oh,right.Food.
Shesnappedthelaptopclosed,poppedup,andadjustedhereyepatchbeforeopeningthedoortoamanwhowouldnevergracethecoverofaRomancenovel,noteveninhisprimethirtyyearsago.Hewheeledthefoodintoherroom,shesignedthebill,tippedhimwell,andclosedthedoor.
SheuncoveredtheplateandfoundcoldFrenchfries,aday-oldbun,apossiblyolderburger,andgarnishshesuspectedhadbeentakenoffanother,discardeddinner.
Fantasyover.Realityhadarrived.ChapterThree
“TheStakes”
THENEXTMORNING,ASSEWANEEDEBATEDHERLIPSTICKCOLORFORthepanel,shefoundherselfstaringintothebathroommirror,eyepatchoff.Itdidn’tmatterhowaccustomedshe’dbecometoit,shecouldn’thelplookingatit.Everytimeasifitwerethefirstandeverytimehopingitwerethelast.
Thespacewhereherrighteyehadbeenwascurtainedwithskinthatlookedasifithadbeenburned.Ithadn’t.Itwassimplytheeffectofnotenoughskintocovertoomuchsurface.Thelong,jaggedscarthataccompaniedthedrapewentfromthemiddleofherrighteyebrowdownoverthehighestpointofhercheekbone.Likethemouthofariver,itdumpeditselfintotheestuaryofhercheek’shollow.
Shelookeddownagainatthelipstick.Red.Definitelyred.Bebold.
Hercellphone,restingonthecounternexttoher,rang.
SheglancedatthecallerID:Seasons.Hergrandmother’sassistedlivingfacility.Nomatterhowmanytimesshehadseen“Seasons”onherscreenovertheyears,herstomachtightened.Inrecentmonths,thetightnesshadworsenedintandemwithBlah’smentalstate.“Hello?”sheanswered.
“Sewanee?”thefamiliarvoiceasked.
“Amanda.Iseverythingokay?”
“Well,wehadabitofanincident.”
Sewaneeturnedaround,leanedagainstthecounter.Sheimaginedspark-pluggy,capableAmandabehindthedeskinhertidyoffice,Christmassweaterprobablyoverthebackofherchair,frizzygray-blackhairpushedbackbyareindeer-antleredheadband.“Whathappened?”
“Sorrytobotheryou.Wereachedouttoyourfather,buthehasn’treturnedourcall.”
Typical.“It’sfine,what’sgoingon?”
“Well,”shesighed,“BlahBlahleftherroomlastnight.”Eventhecaretakershadadoptedhergrandmother’snickname.Barbarahadneverwantedtobecalled“grandma”or“nana”oranyother“ancient-soundingfamiliarity.”ButayoungSewaneecouldn’tsayBarbara.ThebestshecouldmanagewasBlahBlah.Sewanee’sfatherhadthoughtitfithisloquaciousmotherperfectly,soitstuck.“Oneofourorderliesfoundherinthecommonroomattwothirtythismorning.ShebelievedshewasatahotelinTennesseegettingreadyforherdebutanteball.Shethoughttheorderlywasherescort.”
Sewaneeclosedhereye.“Howisshethismorning?”
“Shewokeuphavingnomemoryoflastnight.Washerusualbubblyselfatbreakfast.”
“Okay,”Sewaneebreathed,tippingherheadback.“That’sgood.Right?”
“Yes,butthethingis,wehadtoputheronlockdownfortherestofthenight,forherownsafety.Hercircumstanceshaveadvanced,necessitatingweevaluatefuturecarerequirements.”
“What–whatdoesthatmean?”
“Webelievethat,inthesomewhatnearfuture,we’llneedtotransitionhertoourmemorycareside.”
Sewaneehadseenthebig,lockeddoor.Sherecalledvividlythered-letteredsignaboveit:MEMORYUNIT.KEEPDOORCLOSEDATALLTIMES.Itwasoffthehallwaythatledtothebar.Yes,Seasonshadabar.Andayogaroom.TheplacewasdesignedtolooklikeaHollywoodback-lotversionof1950sAmericana:themainhallway,MainStreet;thesalonboastedabarbershoppole;thelittlemarkethadasodafountaincounterandjukebox.ItunnervedSewanee,theDisneyficationofdissolution.ButitmadeBlahhappy.AndbeinglocatedinBurbank,rightacrossfromWarnerBros.StudiosandnexttotheSmokeHouse,itwasfullofShowFolklikehergrandmother.
ThatwaswhyBlahhadchosenitafterhersister,Bitsy,withwhomshe’dbeenliving,haddied.
Whileotherassistedlivingfacilitiestooktheirresidentsonfieldtripstothemalloramuseum,Seasons’fieldtripsconsistedofmovienightsatHollywoodForeverCemeterytowatchclassicfilmsoutside(“andtovisitoldfriends,”hergrandmotherlikedtojoke).Theywenttositcomandtalkshowtapings.TheyhadahappyhourFridaynightthatwasopentothepublicandSwanwouldbethereformostofthem,drinkingamartiniwithBlahandherpals.
Whenthey’dfirsttouredSeasonsfouryearsago,Amandahadassuredthemifandwhenthetimecameforatransfertomemorycare,Blahwouldn’tbeisolatedfromtheworldshe’denjoyed;shewouldstillparticipateintheactivitiesoftheassistedlivingside,ifshewanted.Ifshecould.BothSewaneeandBlahhadbrushedthisoffatthetime.NeitherseriouslyentertainedthepossibilityofBlahBlah–gossipy,cackling,bright-eyed,sailor-mouthed,song-and-danceBlahBlah–needinglockeddoorsandtwenty-four-hourmonitoring.
“Wouldyoulikemetokeeptryingyourfatherorwouldyouprefertocontacthim?”Amandaasked.
“No,I’llgetholdofhim.”
“Okay.Pleasehavehimcallmeassoonasyoudo.”
“Absolutely.Thankyou,Amanda.”
Sewaneehungupandimmediatelybroughtupherfather’snumber.
Shepaused.
Shesigheddeeplyandcalled.
“Sewanee,Idon’thavetimetochat,areyouokay?”
“I’mfine.”Notthathewasreallyasking.Andnotthathereallydidn’thavethetime.WhichmadeitimpossibleforSewaneenottogoadhimbysaying,“Ijustwantedtohavealongheart-to-heartaboutourhopesanddreams,Dad.”Sarcasmwasherbestoffenseagainsthisunrelentingself-protectionandshewieldeditexpertly.
“Istheresomethingyouwant?”
“Yes.Whenyourmother’sassistedlivingfacilitycalls,Iwantyoutopickup.”
Thesmallestpause.“Iseverythingokay?”heasked,parrotingexactlywhatSewaneehadaskedAmanda.Butthedifferencewasinthetone.Sheknewtone.Itwasherjobtoknowtone.Hiswasdistracted,impatient.But–andthiswaswhatstruckher–almosthopefuleverythingwasn’t,infact,okay.Itturnedherstomach.
“No,”sheanswered,swallowing.“Therewasanincidentlastnight,nothingserious,butitpromptedAmandatotellme–tellyou–thatBlahneedstogointomemorycare.So,Amandahastospeakwithyou.”
“Why?”
Sewaneepaused.“Why?Todiscuss…literallyeverything?”
“Herhopesanddreams?”
Sewaneedidn’trespondtothequipandHenrydidn’tcontinue.Whenthesilencegrewtoolong,Sewaneesaid,“IwasplanningtovisitonMonday,forlunch.”Stillnothing.“Whydon’twemeetthere?”Ifitweren’tforthesoundofhisswallowing–whatSewaneeassumedwascoffee–shewouldhavethoughtthey’dbeendisconnected.“Dad?”
Aslightchuckle.“There’snoneedforthat.Yougoaheadandhaveyourluncheon,youladiesfigureeverythingout,andwe’lltalkafter.”
“Okay.I’llcallyouMondayevening.”Moresilence.“Wouldyouliketoatleastknowwhathappened–”
“Swan,we’lltalkMonday,Ihavetogo.”Hehungup.
BIBLIOCONLANYARDAROUNDherneck,Sewaneehustledanddodgedherwayacrossthemassiveconventionfloorlikearunningbackgoingfortheendzone.Thenumberofattendeeswasastonishing.Forsomeonewhospentagoodportionofherworkinglifewithheadphoneson,hearingonlythesofthushofherownvoiceinherears,whoprized,aboveallelse,absolutequiet,theambientdinoftheroommadehershoulderscreepupherneck.
Herphonevibratedinherpocket,justonce,atext.
ADAKU:
Youhere?
SEWANEE:
Yep.Onmywaytopanel.
ADAKU:
Cometothegreenroomforasec.
SEWANEE:
There’sagreenroom??
ADAKU:
Northwestcorner
SEWANEE:
WhatamI,Magellan?
ADAKU:
BytheStarbucks.Undertheposterofme.
Sewaneeswiveledherheadaroundtheroom.ShelocatedtheposterforthemovieGirlintheMiddle–astop-actionclose-upofAdaku’sfacelookingfromlefttoright–andshuffledover.Shequicklytexted:
Onlyhave10mins.
ADAKU:
Onlyneed2.
AfterfindingthedoorandhavingherIDcheckedagainstthenametaghangingfromherlanyardbythesuper-sizedmanguardingtheroom,shewasusheredintotheexclusiveholdingarea,whereAdakuwaswaitingforher,ato-gocupofcoffeeoutstretched.
“Blessyou,”Sewaneesaid,takingit.
Withoutaword,Adakugrabbedherhandanddraggedherdownthehallwayintoawomen’srestroom.Shequicklycheckedthetwostalls,makingsuretheywereempty,thenpracticallyleapedoverSewaneeanddeadboltedthedoorbehindthem.
“What’sup,youkillsomeone?”sheasked,takingagulpofcoffee.Adakuclaspedherhandstogetherbutcouldn’tseemtospeak.Sewaneepeeredathernow.“Isthisgoodorbad?”
AsoundescapedAdakuthatwouldsetdogshowling.“It’sgood,Swan.It’ssogood.It’sIn-N-Outgood.”
SewaneeknewifAdakuwereallowedonedyingrequest,itwouldbeaDouble-DoublefromIn-N-OutBurger.Adakuwasbuzzinglikealightbulb.Sewaneebegantobuzz,too.“What?”
Adakuwrungherhands.“ThatLysistrata-in-the-jungleprojectIwastellingyouabout?”Sewaneenodded.“Ihitamilestone.Thebigone.”
Shestilled.“Thebigone?”
Adaku’schintrembled.“Ourbigone.”
Sewaneecouldtakecomfort,later,inthefactthatherfirstimpulse,herinstinct,hadbeenhappinessandnotafinger-snapofjealousy.Thesmilethathappenedwasreal,theshoutthateruptedfromherwasgenuine,thetearsthatfollowedwerejoyful.Theygiggledandtheycriedanditwasimpossibletotell,afteracertainpoint,whichwaswhich.Awintrymixofemotions.Sewaneethrewherarmsaroundherfriend,theonlytrueoneshehadleft,themostconstantthinginherlife,andfeltAdaku’sheartbeatingrapidlyagainstherown.
“Amilliondollars,”Adakuwhispered,trembling.“Amilliongoddamndollars.”
“Youdidit!”Sewaneesqueaked.
Adakupulledback,tookSewanee’swreckedfaceinhersofthands.“Wedidit!Inthatshittypizzajointon181st–”
“YoudaremalignthememoryofTony’s?”
Adaku’stearscoatedhersmilinglips.“Overour$2.99two-slice-and-a-Cokespecial,wepromised.Oneofuswouldgetacoolmilbeforethirty-five.”
Sewaneepulledhercloseagainandfelttearsovertakethelaugh,herthroattightening.“Youdidit.You–”SheabruptlyshovedAdakuaway.Playfully,shewassure.“God,I’msoproudofyou!”
Adakuwipedherface.“Imean,aftertaxesandcommissionsit’slikefourhundredthousanddollars,but–”
“Oh,wellthennevermind.”
Theylookedateachotherforaquietmoment.Adaku’seyesclouded.Herfaceturnedearnest.“Webothknowyouwouldhavegottenthisagesago.Ifthatmotherfu–”
“Youwin,Iwin,wewin,remember?”
“Butit’ssounfair–”
“Don’t,”Sewaneedemanded,takingAdakubyhershoulders.“You’regettingpaidamilliondollarstostarinafilm.”
Hersmilereturned.“Ijustgotthecallandyou’retheonlypersonIwantedtoshareitwith.I’msogladyou’rehere!”
Sewaneesteppedbackandheldupherhands,likeasoothsayerfendingoffavision.“Isee…Iseecopiousamountsofchampagneinourfuture.”Adakulaughed.“ButrightnowyourtwominutesareupandI’mgoingtobelate.”
Adakujumpedforward.“Ofcourse,ofcourse!Sorry.”Sheunlockedthedoor.“Whatdoyouwanttodotonight?Iwasthinking–”
“Whateveryouwant!”
“CanIconvinceyoutogotoaclub?Thebottleservice–”
“Yes,allofit,babe,Igottago!”
Adakuflungopenthedoor.“Go,go!You’regoingtobelate!HowmanytimesdoIhavetotellyou?”
Sewaneelaughed,gaveAdaku’sarmafirmsqueeze,andbeelinedaway.
Asshehustleddownthehallway,shefeltherjawlock.
Asshereenteredtheconventionfloor,shefeltherchesttighten.
AsshefoundherwaytotheRomancepavilionandlocatedthecorrectballroomforthepanel,onewordpoundedinherhead.Why.Onaloop.Why.Why.Why.
Thiswashowquicklyhermentalstatecouldchange.Thisdangerous,invisibleundertowwastheonethinginthislifethatstillscaredher,madeherwonderifshewaswrongtohaveforsakenmedicationafterthefirstyear,tohavegivenupontherapyearlierthanthat.Becausethiswasn’tgood.Becauseinhermind,itwassevenyearsagoandshewaslyinginthathospitalbedwonderingwhytheyhadbotheredsavingher.
THEBALLROOMWASfilledtooverflowingwithauthorsandfans.Theyweresittingonthesteps,leaningagainstthewalls,proppedontheirfriends’laps.Thewell-chosenpanel–smart,talentedpeoplewhohadupendedthechildhooddictumtobeseenandnotheard–hadkepttheroomengaged.TherewasAliceDunlopakaDixieBarton;MildredPrim,aRoyalAcademyofDramaticArt–trainedseptuagenarianBritwithanobsessivefollowingfromthefamousHighlanderseriesshe’dnarratedforthelasttwentyyears,whosimplyusedherironicmaidennameforRomance;andRonStudman.RonwasoneofthefewRomancenarratorswhorelishedbeingseen,becausehewantedpeopletoknowthatevenifyouweremorethanmiddle-aged,withanever-increasingwaistlineandanever-decreasinghairline,youcouldbeasexsymbol,too,ifyouhadthegoods.Andthegoods,inhiscase,washisvoice,andthefanslovedhimforit.
Roncurrentlyhadthecrowdeatingoutofhishand.Therewerecatcallsfromagroupofwomeninthefrontrowwhenhedidthevoicehewasbestknownfor:asexyIrishvampirenamedSeamus.
SewaneehadcoveredeverythingMarkhadaskedherto.Whydoyouthinkaudiobooksareboomingrightnow?Howdoyoupreparetorecordabook?Whatisthebestapproachwhenrecordingasexscene?Whypeoplewhooutanarrator’spseudonymshouldbepubliclydrawnandquartered.Itwastimetowrapitup,sosheaskedaquestionthatwouldgivethepanelonelastopportunitytoshine.WhyareRomancenovelssopopular?Aseachmemberanswered,Sewanee’sspiritsrose.Shehaddoneherjobanddoneitwell.Markwouldbehappyandtheorganizerspleased.ShewaslookingforwardtothenightaheadwithAdaku,whodeservedtobecelebrated,whodeservedeverygoddamnounceofsuccessshewasenjoying.
Ronwasthelastpanelisttoanswerand,beingRon,didn’tdisappoint.“Womenarediscoveringthefullextentoftheirpleasure.Shameisathingofthepast!Happilyeverafterispossible.Itmightevenbesittingrightinfrontofyoureyes!”Thenhewinkedattheaudience.
“Allright,”Sewaneesaidtotheroom.“Thankyou,panelists,foryourinsights.Wehaveafewminutesleft,solet’sopenituptoquestions.”
OneofthewomeninthefrontrowjumpedupandaskedRonifhe’dsignherchest.Hootsallaround.Ronobliged.
Awomanafewrowsbackstood,tookthemic.“Hi.IthinkIspeakforallofuswhenIsay:WhoisBrockMcNight?”Thecrowdcheered.“Seriously!Wehavetoknow.”
Ronmadeashowofzippinghislipsandtherestofthepanelshooktheirheads.
ThenextquestionwasalsoaboutBrockMcNight.Aswasthenext.ThenSewaneesaid,“Anynon-Brock-McNight-relatedquestions?”
SomeonehadaquestionforSewanee:“DoyounarrateRomance?”
“No.”Sherealizeditcameoutmoreemphaticallythanshe’dintended.Shebeamedandpointedtothepanel.“Ileavethattotheexperts.”
“Sewaneedoesallthetoughbooks,”Ronchimedin.“Theonesnooneelsecantouch.Fantasieswiththreehundredcharacters,warsagaswithtwentydifferentaccents,theClassics,literarydoorstops.Thelongerthebetter,thebiggerthebetter,shedoesthemall.”
“That’swhatshesaid,”Sewaneequippedandtheaudiencelaughed.She’dlearnedlongagotoleavethemlaughing;BlahBlahhadtaughtherthat.“Okay,sohowaboutonemoreroundofapplauseforourwonderful–”
Sewaneenoticedayoung,barrel-curledblondestandandsmoothherprettysundress.Shecalledout,“Sorry,y’all!Onequickylittlequestion?”
Sewaneeglancedattheclockonthebackwallasthefloormicmadeitswaytothewoman.
“Thankssomuch,”thewomansaid.“Andthankssomuchfortakingthetimetocometalktous?”ShehadasignificantSoutherndrawl.SosignificantSewaneewondered,briefly,ifshewereputtingiton.High,nasal,andwiththepropensitytouptalk.“Um,myquestionis?What’sthebestwaytogetintothebusiness?”
“Icangiveyoumoreinfoatthebooth,”Sewaneeanswered,“butonceyou’vegotadraftofyourbookyoushouldbethinkingaboutaudio–”
“Oh,no!”thewomangiggled.“I’mnotanauthor!I’manactress?”
Sewaneestalled,herbrainmisfiring
Rontookthewheel.“Well,firstthingyoushoulddo”–heleanedintothemicrophoneanddippedintohisIrishvampirevoice–“iscomeseeSeamusafterthepanel.”
“Ron,”Sewaneescolded,“Seamusonyou!”Theaudiencelaughed.“Okay,everyone,thanksfor–”
“Imean,Ilovereading?”Thegirltuckedherhairbehindherearandcontinued.“AndI’mtakingsomeactingclassesinL.A.?”OhGod:theyhadoneofthosethisisn’taquestionsomuchasacommentpeopleontheirhands.“And,like,Idon’tknow,itjustseemsliketheperfectjob?”
Onceagain,apanelistsavedSewaneefromhavingtorespond.“Well,”Mildredbegan,“Itellpeoplethebestthingonecando,ifonethinksthisjobmightsuit,istogointoawindowlessroomandreadabookaloud,stoppingateverymistakeandstartingagainatthetopofthesentence.Dothisforeighthoursandseeifyoustillthinkit’stheperfectjob.”
Theaudiencechuckled.SewaneesilentlythankedMildredfortherealitycheck.
“Listenin’toy’allhasmademerealize,”thegirlcontinued–continued!–“narratingRomance’dberealneat.”
Sewanee’smorbidcuriositygotthebestofher,asifslowingtopassacaraccidentonthefreeway.“Why?”
“Well,usingmyactingskillsandall,Icouldbringhopetopeople?”
“How?”
“By–bywhatIjustsaid?ByaudiobookingRomance?Howgreatwoulditbetohelptheworldknowlovewillalwaysfindaway,it’llallworkout,thatwecantrulylivehappilyeverafter?”
Sewaneefortifiedherselfandtriednottosoundcondescending.“Thatwouldbegreat,ifitweretrue,but…probablybestweleaveitthere.”
Thegirlmadeanadorablepoutingface.“Soundslikesomebodycouldusealittleofthathope?”
Straw,meetcamel’sback.
“Ihavehope.Realhope,notfalsehope.Romancenovelsareawonderfulescape,but–”Sewaneetookonlythesmallestbeat–certainlynotlongenoughtoconsiderthepolityofwhatshewasabouttosay–beforecontinuing,“Look,youwanttogivepeoplesomething,givethemthetruth.Levelwiththem.Romancenovelsarenotreallife,loveisnotaGod-givenright,beinganactresswon’tmakelifebetter–infact,itmightmakeitworse–andhappilyeverafterisbullshit.”
Someonewaswavingfranticallyatthebackoftheballroom,awomanwearingaT-shirtwiththeconvention’slogoonitandholdingaclipboard.ShetappedherwristinamannerthatstruckSewaneeasvaudevillian.Whichbrokethespell.
Shelookedoutintothesilentcrowd,whatshe’dsaidsettlingovertheauditoriumlikesuffocatingashfromavolcano.
Shit.
Shetookameasuredbeat.“IheardsomeonesaythatearlierontheconventionfloorandIcouldn’tbelieveit.Imean,whatdowethink?IsHEAabunchofBS?”
“No!”
She’drecapturedthem.“I’msorry,Idon’tthinktheyheardyouoverinthesnobpavilion!Isitbullshit?!”
Areverberating,room-fillingresponse:“NO!!!”Theaudienceclappedandcheered.
AnotherBlah-ism?Gettheaudienceonyourside.
Overtheapplause,Sewaneeshouted,“Thanks,again,toourpanelandrememberwe’llbesigningforthenexthouratbooth2186!Haveagreatday!”
ASTHEYARRIVEDattheendoftheallottedhour,theactivityatthesigningboothslowed.RoncameoverandgaveSewaneeahug,saidhewasofftothecasinoforaScotchandsodaandsomeLetItRide.“Youshouldgetadrink,too,”hesaid,affable,lovable,wink-ableRon.Sewaneeheartilyagreed.Mildredstood,crackedherback,andpattedSewanee’shandbeforeleaving.
Alice,however,pulledSewaneebehindthecurtainsoftheboothandlookedherrightintheeyewhenshesaid,“Swan.”
“Iknow.”
Aliceexhaledandputahandonhermotherlyhip.“Yousavedit,youdid.Buthon…everythingokay?”
“Yeah,no!”Sewaneechirped.“Itwasjustthatgirl,withthatvoice,thinkingshecould–”
Aliceshookherhead.“Notourjobtotellher.She’llbesellingessentialoilsonInstagramorsomethingwithinthemonth.ButIdon’tthinkshewastheissue?”
“Imean…”Sewaneelookeddown,shookherhead,andtookabreath.“I’vebeen…alittleoff.Lately.”ShefeltAlicepeeringather.
“Youknow,IlikeRomancenovels.Andnotjustnarratingthem.Readingthem.”
Sewaneeglancedup.
“Tenyearsago,whenIwasempty-nesting,IfoundoutBobwashavinganaffair,andweweregoingtolosethehouse,andthenmymomgotsick,andthentheyfoundalump…”Alice’shandtouchedherchest,thetopofherrightbreast.“Morethananythingelse,Iwantedtobelievethattherecouldstillbeahappilyeverafterforme.Itwasactuallykindofreligious.”Sewaneeopenedhermouth,butAlicecontinued,“Relax,I’mnotgettingweird.”
ShetookSewanee’shand.“You’reamazing.You’retalentedandkindandyouhaveshoveledatonofshitinyouryounglifeandIdon’tblameyouforbeingcynical.Butyoudon’tknowhowthingsaregonnago.Andthatcutsbothways,goodandbad.Soyoujusthavetotrustit’llworkoutintheend.”
Sewaneesearchedforawry,sarcasticcomebackthatwoulddismantleAlice’sargument.Somethingherfathermightsay.Buttherewasn’tone.
Soshesaidnothing.ChapterFour
“TheMakeover”
“LET’SSEE!”ADAKUCRIED,KNOCKINGPERFUNCTORILYONTHEDOORtothesuite’ssecondbedroombeforewalkingrightin.
Sewaneestoodinthemiddleoftheroom.Shedidanironictwirl.
Adaku’shandscametohermouth.“Swan,”shebreathedthroughherfingers.
Sewaneeturnedbacktothefull-lengthmirror.
Shelookedgood.Shelookedhot.Shelookedlikeadifferentperson.
Aftershe’dclosedupthebootharound4:00,she’dwalkedbrisklytothenearestbarfortheLastWordshe’dbeendrinkinginhermindsince11A.M.whenRonhadsuggestedshegetadrink.Butthebarhadn’thadthenecessaryingredients.Soshe’dgonebacktoherroom,intendingtograbherstuffandheadtotheStrip,toabarthatknewwhatitwasdoing.Instead,she’dfalleninstantlyasleepandwokeanhourlatertoatextfromAdakutellinghertobeatthesuiteby6:00.Sheshoweredquickly,threwonthemodestoutfitshe’dbroughttogooutin,putonhereyepatch,andcabbedtotheVenetian.
AdakuhadbeenwaitingwithahairandmakeupartistandastylistwiththreedesignerdressesinSewanee’ssize.She’dprotestedhalfheartedly,butthetruthwasAdaku’sinstinctsalwaysborderedonclairvoyance.SheknewwhatSewaneeneededbeforeshedid.Forreasonsshehadn’tquiteparsed,Sewaneewantedtobesomethingmoretonight,somethingdifferent,somethingslightlyless…her.
Thestylist,wantingtogetingoodwithAdaku,haddoneaspeedyalterationofSewanee’sselection:abodycondressthatmanagedtoflatterhercurveswithoutdrawingherperfectionistattentiontotheextrafifteenpoundsshewishedweren’tthere.Thatusedtonotbethere,beforeherjobinvolvedsittingforthelengthofahundredpagesaday.
Sewaneehadenjoyedbeing“putthroughtheworks,”havinghairandmakeupexpertsdescenduponherwiththesolepurposeofmakingherlookherbest.Ithadbeensolong.Now,herauburnhairwasstyledinasweep,partedontheleft,thebulkofitswoopingoverhereyepatchanddownoverherrightshoulder.Herlefteye,hermother’sglacialblue,wasslightlysmoky.Shehadredlipsanddefinedcheekbones.Contouring.Bronzer.Athickerbrow.Andboobs!Wherehadthosecomefrom?
EventoSwan’sconstantlycriticaleye,shelookedstunning.
“Yes!”Adakuclapped.“Comethrough,lips!Comethrough,hips!”
Sewaneefocusedonherfriend’sgleefulface.“Ican’tthankyouenough,A.”
“Oh,please.Ididn’tdothisforyou,Ididitforme.Noweveryonewillbelookingatyouinstead.”
Sewanee’smoodhadlifted,afogburnedoffwiththewarmthofthesun.
Adakuwashersun.
“Andyou!”Sewaneeexclaimed,walkingovertoher.Adakulookedgorgeousperusualinashortromperofsilversequins,ankle-heightzipperedheels,andadeepburgundylip.Herhairhadbeenstraightenedintoajauntybob,madeshinybythecoconutoilfinishingserumherusualstylisthaddesignedspecificallyforher.“Youlooklikeamillionbucksbeforetaxesandcommissions.”Theylaughedand,whenAdakulookedatherwithPygmalionpride,Sewaneepulledherintoahug.“It’sstupid,butIdofeelbetter.”
“Playingdress-upoccasionallyisnecessary.”
Thesuite’sdoorbellrangandAdakupulledoutoftheembrace,joggingfromtheroom.Sewaneetookonemorelookinthemirrorandfollowedafterher,hearingAdakuopenthedoor,thanksomeoneprofusely,andcloseit.
Thesightinthefoyerstoppedher.
“Why–whataremybagsdoinghere?”
Adaku,afreshbottleofCristalbracedinelegantlybetweenherthighs,fingersspeedilydispensingwithfoil,merelysmiledthatsilverscreensmilethatwasimpossibletoarguewith.“You’vecheckedoutoftheRio.”
Pop.
“LEAVEITTOyoutofindtheonebarinallofLasVegaswithbooksinit.”
Theywereensconcedinalibrary-themedbarsomewhereontheperimeteroftheVenetian’scasinofloor,sittingonadeepchesterfieldsofainfrontofafireplacethatdidn’tgiveoffanyheat,surroundedbyheavymahoganybookshelvesfullofnondescriptantiquehardcovers.Sewaneewassurethebookswerefake.ItwastheVegasway:everythingwasmeanttoseemreal,butwasn’t.Tonight,though,shedidn’tcare.Itwasallpartofthefantasy.
Theirwaitressstoppedbythetable.“Another,Ms.Obi?”
“We’regoodforthemoment,thanks!”
“Signalifyouwantanythingelse,anythingatall.”Shegavethematoothpastecommercialsmileandwentonherway.
Adakunoddedtowardamanwhohadjustwalkedin.“Whatabouthim?”Itwasnotthefirsttimeshe’dsaidthistonight.
“Whydon’tIstandbythedoorwithanet?”SewaneesmirkedandtookasipofherLastWord.“A,seriously,I’mnotgonnahookupwithsomerando.Tonight’saboutyouand–”
Adaku’sphonebuzzed.Sheglancedatit.“Onesec,sorry.Manager.”Shepickedup.“Hello?Manse?Manse–canyouhearme?”Shepluggedherearwithalong,well-groomedfinger.“Hangon–yeah,Iknow,oneminute.”Shestood,madeapologeticeyesatSwan,andhustledoutofthebar,likelytowardaquietbathroomhallway.
Shereturnedfiveminuteslaterlookingsheepish.“So!”Shesat,butonthearmofthechesterfield,perchedlikeabirdabouttotakeflight.“Don’thateme,”shebegan.
“Theyuptheoffertotwomil?”
“Ihavetogo.”
“Okay.”Sewaneereachedforherpurse.
“No.ToL.A.Tonight.Like,now.”
Sewaneeshookherheadthewayacartooncharacterdidadoubletake.Brrrroing!“What?”
Adakugrabbedherdrinkandpolisheditoff.“TheAngelaDavisbiopicIwastellingyouabout?Iwantit.Buttheexecproducerdoesn’tthinkI’mrightforit.HelivesinParisorFlorenceorsomethingsoIhaven’tbeenabletogettohim.Buthe’sflyingbackfromHawaiithroughL.A.tonight,landinginninetyminutes.Mansetoldtheexec’sassistantaboutthejunglemovie,hisassistante-mailedhimwhilehewasintheair,andhe’sagreedtomeetmeforadrink.”
“Wait,you’remeetinghimatLAX?”
“Yes.There’saSouthwestflightleavinginforty-fiveminutes.So,thisisme,going.”Shebentover,kissedSewanee’scheek.“Backbymidnight.”
Sewanee’seyebugged.“You’recomingback?”
“We’recelebrating!Returnflight’salreadybooked!”
“A,youdon’thaveto–”
“You’vegotadinnerreservationatthecelebritychefsteakhouseinhalfanhour,bottleserviceattheclub,adriver.Puteverythingontheroom!Findsomeonetojoinyou!Seeyouinfourhours!Leaving!”
BeforeSewaneecouldrespond,Adakuwasonherwayout.Asshepassedthewaitress,shepointedatSewaneeandherdrink,clearlyorderingheranother.
Sewaneesatback.Shetookabreath.
Shealreadyfeltawkwardsittinginthebaralone,lookinglikeshewaswaitingforapromdate–oreven,shethought,glancingdownathercleavage,acustomer.Beforeshecouldtellthewaitresstocancelthedrinkorder,she’darrivedbacktodeliverit,asifAdakuhadsomeFastPasslaneatthebarreservedsolelyforher.
Shegulpeddownagoodportionofitandthought.
Whywouldshegotodinnerbyherself,gotoaclubbyherself,bedrivenaroundbyherself?Ridiculous.She’dgoupstairs,havesomecoffee,finishpreppingthebook,andwaitforAdakutocomeback.She’dhavethislastdrinkandcloseout.
Shecaughtthewaitress’seyeandmadetheuniversalhandgestureforcheck,please?Andsatback,waiting.Drinking.Drinkinguntilhercheeksbegantowarmandhershouldersbegantoloosenandthebartookonaslightlysexiercast,asifafilterhadbeenappliedtothewholeroom.Beforeshewasofficiallytipsy,shedidthethingshe’dbeentryingtofindthetimetodoallday.Shecalledhergrandmother.
“Hello?”Sewaneecouldhearthefamiliarclickofhergrandmother’sringsontheplasticreceiver.She’dtriedtogethertouseacellphone,butthebuttonsweretoosmallandshe’dsomehowdialinternationalnumbersandthenlosethethinginthecouch,andanywaytheywerebacktoalandline.
“Hi,BlahBlah!”Therewasahalfsecondofsilence,whichpromptedhertoquicklyadd,“It’sSewanee,”beforehergrandmothercouldrevealshehadn’tknownthat.
Hervoiceimmediatelywarmed.“Dollface!How’smyfavoritegirl?”
Sewanee’ssmilewasequalpartsreliefandjoy.“I’mgood.I’mstillinLasVegas.”
“You’reinLasVegas?Ididn’tknowyouwereinLasVegas.”
Shedid.Orshehad,anyway.“I’mhereforaconference.”
“Well,Ihopeyou’refindingtimeforfun.”Thetextureofhergrandmother’svoicewastheresultofeverycigaretteshe’deversmoked,everymartinishe’deverdrunk.WhilesheretainednoneofherTennesseeaccent(shebelongedtothegenerationofactorswhoseregionalismshadbeendrilledoutofthem),shestillcarriedaSoutherndignityandpropriety.Shesworeanddrankandpartiedinherday,butgoddammit,shediditelegantly
“YourgrandfathertookmetoLasVegasonce.”
Sewaneehadheardthisstorymanytimesbeforeandrecently.Butthiswashowitwentthesedaysandsheknewtogoalongwithit.“Didyouenjoyyourself?”
“Whatanightwehad!WesawtheRatPack.Frank,Dean,Sammy,and…oh.Icanneverremembertheotherone.”
“Isn’titPetersomething?”AmandahadtoldSewaneetomakeBlahusehermemorywheneverpossible,insteadofjustsupplyinganswers.
“Yes!Yes!Lawford,PeterLawford.”Shemuttered,“Hewasneverthatimportantanyway.Hedidn’tdoanything.Anyway,aftertheshow,Marvintookmebackstage–itwastheSandsHotel–andintroducedmetoFrankandDean.AndofcourseSammyand…shit!Who’stheotherone?Doesn’tmatter.FranktookmyhandandaskedmewhatIthoughtoftheshowandIcamerightoutwithit,Isaid,‘Youshouldhavealadyupthere.’Marvinwasmortified–he’salwaysmortified–butFrankandDean,theylaughedtheirtooshesoff!”Blah’schucklebecameahackingcough.“Frank’shandissofterthanIexpected.”
Sewaneenoticedtheshiftfrompasttensetopresentandshetriedtoguideherback.“Didn’tGrandpaknowSinatra?”
Itworked.“Ohyes.FrankhaddoneoneofMarv’searlypictures,youknow,sotheywentwayback.HewasawfullysorryforallthatMcCarthybusiness.Frank,notMarv.Thatsonofabitch.McCarthy,notSinatra.”Therewasapause.“Doyouwanttocomeover,Dollface?”
“I’minLasVegas.”
Blahcluckedhertongue.“Christonacrutch,youjustsaidthat.Iswear,thisoldtackleboxofaheadisnothingmorethantangleduplines,lures,andsinkers.Gettingoldisforthegoddamnbirds.”
Sewaneesmiled.“I’llcomebyonMondayforlunch,okay?”
“Iwouldn’tifIwereyou.It’schickensaladday.”
“Iloveyou,Blah.SeeyouMonday.”
“Loveyou,Dollface.Nowgohavefun.You’reonlyyoungandbeautifulonce.Makethemostofit.”
“We’llsee–”
“Doit,Swan!”Therewasapause.“WhencanIseeyou?”
Sewaneetookapatientbreath.“HowaboutMonday?”
“What’stoday?”
“Saturday.”
“Perfect!Though,fairwarning,Monday’schickensaladday.”Shemadekissingsoundsintothephoneandhungup
Thewaitressappearedwiththebill(tuckedlikeabookmarkintoarealhardcover–JaneEyre,shenoted)andSewaneethankedher.Shetookanothersip,leanedoverthelowtable,openedthebook,andheard,fromabove:
“Hi.”ChapterFive
“TheNotoriousRake”
SHELOOKEDUP.ARATHERSTRIKINGMANSTAREDDOWNATHER,handsonhiships.“Uh.Hi.”
“Youcan’tbeleaving.Wejustmet.”
Nowthatwasasmile.Itrenderedthecheesylinecharming.
Oh,God.Swanwasn’treadyforthis.Thislanky-limbed,broad-shouldered,tanned-wrinkles-at-the-corners-of-his-eyes,eight-o’clock-shadowed,tall-iced-unbrella’d-cocktailofaman.
Shemadeapointoflookingbackatthebill,buthesaid,“MayI?”andbeforeshecouldanswer,hesatdownontheoppositeendofthelongchesterfield,leavingarespectfuldistancebetweenthem.“Cheers,”hesaid,andforastupidmomentshethoughthewastoastingher.Butwhenshelookedupathim,hewasgazingoutintotheroom.“It’scrowded,yeah?”Andsherealizedhehadn’tbeentoastingher;hewasBritish.Cheersasin:thanks.Cheersasin:Idon’tneedyourpermission,butI’magentlemansoIaskedanyway.Cheersasin:buckleup,toots.
Sewaneereturnedtothebill,butheloomedinherperipheral.Shetookaswigofherdrinkandsetitdown.
Hesignaledtothewaitress.Heunbuttonedthejacketofanicesuit.Heloosenedhisoxbloodtie.Heshiftedhisbodytowardher,tuckingonefootbehindtheoppositeknee,throwinganarmoverthebackofthecouch.Hemovedwithafelinesimplicity,atrafficcopexpertlydirectingcarsinmultipledirections,allwhileasking,“Whatareyoudrinking,then?”
Hearingmoreoftheaccent,Sewaneerevisedherpreviousassessment.Irish.
Maybeshe’dbeenjadedbymenlikeChuckandJimboandtheothersthatcamebeforethem,butherdefenseswereup.Sosheadoptedtheaccentofthegirlatthepanel,givingherselfsomedistance,somecover.“Gin.”
“Adrygin,itseems.”
Sheglancedatherglassonthetableinfrontofher.Itwasempty.She’dfinishedit.
“Vegasbars.Chargingforair.”
Sewaneebitbackthegrinshefeltbeginning.Shesoughtsomethingelsetofocuson.Therewereonlysomanytimesshecouldexamineabill.ButthenMr.What-the-Hell-Is-Happeningasked,“Whatwouldyousaytoaquickdrink?”
“Actually,”shebegan,uncrossingherlegsonlytocrossthemagain,thistimeawayfromhim,“Ihaveto–”
“It’sallI’mgoodfor.”Thewaitressappeared.“Seriously.”Hegavethewaitressthatsmile.“What’sthenews,lass?”Then,backtoSewanee,“Ginmartini,isit?”
ThewaitresspickedupSewanee’sglass.“She’sactuallyhavingtheLastWord.”
HelookedatSewanee.Directlyather.“Assheshould.AndsoshallI.”
Thewaitresspaused.“Youknowwhatitis,right?Imean,she’sthefirstpersontoorderitinmonths.It’s–”
“EqualpartsgreenChartreuse,limejuice,andmaraschinoliqueur–doyouuseLuxardo?TheLuxardofamily’sbeenmakingitsince1821–oh,andoneoftheirlittleblackcherriesforgarnish.”
Sewaneegrinnedtocoverhersurpriseanddrawled,“Youforgotthegin.”
“Justgivingyouthelastword.”
Thisguy’ssmirkputayoungHarrisonFordonnotice.
Sewaneepassedherthesignedreceipt,includinganexcessivehappy-holidays-someone-else-is-payingtip,andthewaitresssaid,“Carterwillbringthemrightout.”
SheleftandSewaneesatbackonthecouch,decidingtoenjoythis,whateverthiswas.“You’regood.”
“Engh,I’manarse,Ipromise,justwait.”
Maybeitwashiseasymanner.Maybeitwasthebroadchestunderneaththatdressshirt.Maybeitwastheaccent,evenforher,someonewhocoulddotheaccentherself.Maybeitwasassimpleasanicemaninanicesuit.Therewereafewreasonsthiswasworkingforher
Butwhywasitworkingforhim?Whyhadhechosenher?Sherealizedherhairhadfallenforwardinawaythatobscuredhereyepatch.Shehadn’tdoneitintentionally.Whatwasintentional,however,washowshedeliberatelypushedherhairbacknow.Shefacedhimhead-on,hidingnothing,challengingeverything.
Hedidn’tflinch.Hedidn’tblink.Hejustsmiledagain.“So,whaddayasaywegettoknoweachotheraweebit?”Hegazedoutintothebarandsaid,dryly,“Orwecanfindthenearestchapel,asyou’reobviouslymadforme.”
Shesnorted.
“Right,I’llgofirst.Here’swhatyou’llbewantingtoknow.”Heshiftedhisbodyinawaythateffortlesslybroughthimclosertoher.“I’mflyingtoDublininthreehours.MybagischeckedwiththehostandI’mhappytoshowyoutheclaimticket,ifyouwish.Thattakescareofanypossiblefunnybusiness.I’mhereforonedrinkwithabeautifulwomantodistractmefromthedisasterthatwastoday.LasVegasissupposedtobecraic,yeah?Well,I’vebeenherethirty-sixhoursandit’sbeenabsoluteshitefortheentiretyofthem.”
“Ithasn’tbeengreattome,either.”
Vindicated,heslappedhisknee.“It’sfalseadvertisingiswhatitis!”
“YouwanttospeaktoVegas’smanager?”
“Nah.ThisisthechatI’mwantingtohave.”Therewasabriefsomeone-say-somethingmomentandanarrow-shouldered,elvish-lookingserverappearedandsettheirdrinksdown.“Impeccabletiming,mate.”Theserverblushedslightly.Thisman’seffectwasuniversal.HeturnedtoSewanee,liftedhisglass.“To…”Hisfacewentblank.“Vegas?No,that’sidiotic.Tolife?No,that’shorrid.To…”
Sewaneeleanedforward,caughthiseye.“To,”shesaid.
Hesmiledagain.“We’llleaveitatthat,then.To.”
Theyclinkedglassesandtookathoughtfulsip.Whentheyweredone,shesetdownherglass,lookedathim.Raisedhereyebrow.Well?Hegazedsteadilybackather.Averdicthadbeenreached.“Perfect.IbelieveI’minlove,”hesaid,rightather
SomethingdeepinsideofSewaneetwitched,once,liketheflankofahibernatingbear.Shelookedaway.TheIrishmanbroughtherbacktohim,settingdownhisdrinkandreachingouthishand.“Nick.”
Shetookhishand,debatedforabouthalfasecond.“Alice.”
Thiswasn’treal.Noneofthiswasreal.Shedidn’tfeellikeherselftonightsowhyshouldshebeherselftonight?Hehadagoodhandshake.Hehadgoodfingers.Shecheckedthemforaring.Onlyone,onthemiddlefingerofhisrighthand.Oddplacement,butsafe.
Shepulledbackandreachedimmediatelyforherdrinkagain.“Whereareyoufrom?”sheasked.Althoughshehadadoptedtheaccentofthatgirlfromthepanel,shewascarefultoleaveoutthenasalityandgratinguptalkbecause…justno.
“Ireland.”Athereyeroll,hechuckled.“Thatobvious?Dublin.”
Sewaneecockedherheadathim.“NorthorSouth?”Hecockedhisheadather.“Youraccent.”
Hesmiledwider.“Whataboutit?”
“It’smuddled.”Honestly,Ron’svampireSeamussoundedmoreauthentic.
“Well,ifyoumustknow,HenryHiggins,Igrewupallovertheplace.Divorcedparents.”Hepluckeduphisdrink,tookanothersip.“You?”
“Texas.”
Hemadeadoubtingface.“SoundsmorelikeEastVirginiatome.”
“Doyouthinkthere’sastatecalledEastVirginia?”
“Well,”hesaid,takinganothersip.“There’saWestVirginia.”
Thisshouldn’thavebeenascharmingasitwas.ButafewLastWordsin.
BlahBlahwasright.Swanshouldmakethemostofit.Shewasinadesignerdress,perfectlycoiffed,Adakuwouldbebackinfourhours,andhewasleavinginthree.ItwasaCinderella-at-the-ballsituation.Everythingwouldbeoverbymidnight,butinthemeantime…doit,Swan.
“IknowIsaidonedrink,butI’mthinkingwe’vegotmoretosay.Shallwegetanotherroundstarted?”Nickaskedher.
IfAdakuwereperchedonhershoulder,Sewaneeknewexactlywhatshe’dsayrightnow:Him!
“Holdthatthought.”Shepickedupherphone.“Ijustgotatext.”Shehadn’t.Shepretendedtoreadit.Shedidn’t.“Ah.Myfriend.Shecan’tmakeittodinner.Bummer.”ShelookedbackatNickandsomethingpassedbrieflyacrosshiseyes.Nothingmeaningful,butsomethingallthesame.Helookedaway,heldthecoupeglassuptothelightemanatingfromthecrystalchandelierabovethem,androlledthestembetweentwoofthosefingers.Thenhepluckedupthetoothpicksittinginthedrink,putittohismouth.Heslowlyslidtheblackcherryoffwithhislips.
“So,”sheheardherselfsay,“IhaveareservationataplacewithtremendouslythicksteaksandbottlesofwinethatcostmorethanmymonthlycarpaymentandI’mgoingtochargeeverythingtomyfriend’sexpenseaccount.”Shequicklyadded,“Shetoldmeto.Inthetext.Iwouldneverjustdosomethinglike–”stoptalking“–doyouhavethetimetojoinme?”
Nicksmoothlyturned,caughttheserver’seye.“Check,please,thankyousomuch.”HelookedbackatSewanee,toothpickrollingtoalanguidstopintherightcornerofhismouth.“I’mstarving.”
Shepickedupherowntoothpick,consideredthecherry.“Metoo,”shesaid,andsliditintohermouthwithherteeth.ChapterSix
“WhatHappensinVegas”
“SO,NICK.WHATDOYOUDO?”
Hehadjustputthelastshrimpintohismouth.“BestshrimpcocktailI’veeverhad.”Heapparentlyhadnoproblemspeakingwithhismouthfull,anotherthingSewaneefoundinexplicablycharming.
Shechuckledandleanedback.“Sogood.”
Nickswallowedandleanedforwardearnestly.“Sogood.Andaslargeasbabylobsters.Bigshrimp!Themostdeliciousoxymoron.”
Yes,inexplicablycharming.
AbusboyclearedawaythedestroyedremainsoftheappetizerandSewaneeappreciatedhowthecandlelightdancedonthetable’sglasstop.SheappreciatedNick’stonedforearmsrestingonit,revealedafterhe’dpushedhissleevesbackwhenthefoodarrived.Sheappreciatedtheswimmyfeelinginherhead,theglintinNick’shazeleyes,thewayherbodyfeltinadressshe’dneverbuy.
Beforeshecouldreiterateherquestion,thesommelierarrivedwithabottleofwine.HepouredasplashintoalargeBordeauxglassandnudgedittoNick,whopassedittoSewanee,wordlesslycorrectingthesomm’sgenderedassumptionsaboutwhowasmakingthedecisionstonight.Shethrilledatthesimplegestureandsaidtothesommelier,“Canhehavesome,too?”
“Certainly!”
OnceNickwasholdingaglass,theytippedthemtowardeachother,gaveadelicateswirl,breathedinthearoma,andtookasip.Therewasapauseastheychewedthewine.Theyswallowedinsync,thewaytwopeoplewouldreachfortheother’shandsimultaneously.
Theysaid,atthesametime,“Wow.”Theylaughed.Thenrepeated,louder,“Wow,”andlaughedagain.
Sewaneelookedbacktothesommelier.“Amazing.Thankyou.Wouldyoudecantit,please?”
“Ofcourse.Rightaway.”Heleftthem.
Sewaneefinishedhertasterandsighedhappily,givingsilentthankstoAdaku.
Nickwatchedher.“Decantit,eh?”Hetooktherestofthewineintohismouth.
“It’sabittight.Itneedstoopen.”Shewatchedhimswallow.“Sowhatisityoudo?”
“WhyareAmericansalwaysasking,‘whatdoyoudo?’”
Sewaneegrabbedsomebreadoutofthebasketandslathereditwithwhatthewaiterhaddescribedas“maltedghee.”Shesuspecteditwasjusthoneybutter.“Itfillsthegapsinconversation.”
“ThankGodforthat,becauseuncomfortablesilenceshavebeenarealbothertonight.”
Therehadn’tbeenanylullintheconversation.They’dbanteredandproddedanddownrightdelightedeachotherforthelasthour.
Thesommelierreturnedwiththeirdecanter,pouredtwohealthyglasses,andleftagain.
“I’dthink,”Nicksaid,takingasip,“asking‘whatdoyouliketodo’wouldbeabetterwayofactuallygettingtoknowsomeone.”
Sewaneecockedaneyebrow.“Blessyourheart.Stopevading.”
Nickguffawed.“I’mnotevading!It’lljustboreyou.”Hegrabbedsomebread.“IworkforaVCthatbuysandsellscompanies.”
“So,finance.”
“Now,tryandcontainyourexcitement,please,I’mnotdoneyet.”Nickleanedin,mock-whispering,“I’mthecloser.Ittakesagoodamountofcharmtocloseadealandincaseyouhadn’tnoticed,I’mquitecharming.”
“Ihadn’t,no.”
“Huh,it’susuallythefirstthingpeoplenoticeaboutme.”Grinning,hetookanotherswallowofwine.“What’sthefirstthingpeoplenoticeaboutyou?”
“Mywit,”Sewaneedeadpanned.
“Itiswonderfullydry.”Hehelduphisglass.“Likeafinewine.Butitwasn’tthefirstthingInoticedaboutyou.”
“No?”Sewaneedrawled.
“No.FirstthingInoticedwasyourmouth.”
Sewaneeignoredthehumthatwentthroughheratthat.“Really.”
Nickpausedwiththeglassathislips,lookedthoughtfullyoutintotherestaurant.“No,you’reright.Itwasyourlegs.Yourheadwasdownatthetime.So,chronologically…”HelookedatSewaneeovertherimofhisglass.
Sheleveledhergazeathim.“Youcanask.”
“Whatdoyoudo?”
“Notthat.Goahead.Askabouttheeyepatchyou’vesograciouslyavoidedaskingabout.”
Nicklookedbaffled.“Ihaven’tavoidedaskingaboutit,oranythingelseforthatmatter.Itwasn’tatopicofconversation.Muchlikeyourlegs,whichhadn’tcomeupuntilamomentago.”
Shecouldseewhyhewasgoodatwhathedid.
Hecontinuedeasily,butteringhisbread,“Anaccessory?Astatementpiece?Likeafaketattooorlens-lessspectacles?ThisisVegas,afterall.”
“No.”
“Allright,then.Nottemporary?”
“No.”
“Well,then.”
Therewasasilence.Thefirsttruesilencebetweenthem.
Sewaneeleanedforward.“You’renotcurious?”
Nickshrugged,pouringthembothmorewine.“’CourseI’mcurious.ThesamewayI’mcuriousaboutwhat’sunderthatdress,becauseit’syouandI’mcuriousaboutyou,butsatisfyingthatcuriosityisn’tinthecardsforustonight.”Hesetthedecanterdownandstaredatthetabletopforamoment.
“CanIsay,though?”Heleanedsofarforwardtheirfaceswerelessthanafootapart.Andthenhelookedupather.Hiseyeshadbrownflecks.“Coverupwhateveryoupleasefortheworld,butinintimacy?Hidenothing.Inintimacy,everythingisbeautiful.So,whatdoyoudo?”
Sewaneedidn’thearthequestion.Thatis,sheheardindividualwordsthatformedaquestion,butshedidn’thearwhatwasasked.Itcametoheronadelay.Intheensuingsilence,shepickedupherglassandtookadrink,mmm-ingaboutthewine,stalling,regrouping.
ShehadalreadygivenhimafalsenameandTexastwang.Itwastoolatetodropthecharade,soshecontinuedthedeception.“Iworkinpublishing.”Sheknewenoughaboutbooksandhowtheyworked.Shedidsortofworkinpublishing,afterall.Shecouldsustainthisuntilheleft.“I’maneditor.”
“Ooh.Cleverlass.Andwhatkindofbooksdoyouedit?”Shesighed,debatingwhethershetrulywantedtogodownthisroad.Nickinterpretedthesighdifferently.“Areyouabouttoboremenow?Whatarethey?Technicalmanuals?Microbiologytextbooks?Somethinghorriblydry,likethatwitofyours?”
“Theopposite,actually.”
“Can’tsayI’veeverheardofawetread.”Hetookanothersipofwine.
Therewasnowheretogobutstraightahead.“IeditRomancenovels.”
Henearlydidaspittake.Heswallowedroughlyandchokedout,“Grand.”
Theirsteaksappeared.Food,yes.Foodwasagoodidea.She’dlosttrackofhowmuchshe’dhadtodrink.
“Jaysus,”Nickmurmured,cuttingintohissteak,“youareacuriousone.Whereonearthdidyoucomefrom?”
“EastVirginia.”
Helaughedandpointedhissteak-tippedforkather.“So,letmegetthisstraight.”Hepoppedthebiteintohismouthandgroanedlasciviously.Thesounddidnotgounnoticed.“ByRomancenovels,doyoumean…oh,who’syourmanwithallthemovies?TheNotebookguy.”
“NicholasSparks.No.Hewriteslovestories.”
“Love.Romance.What’sthedifference?”
Sewaneewaskickingherselfalready.Why?Whyhadshedonethis?“So,there’sFiction,right?Lovestoriesarefiction.”
“I’llsay,”Nicksaidwryly.
Sewaneelaughed.“Justremember:youasked.So,undertheumbrellaofFiction,there’sWomen’sFiction.Usuallywrittenbywomen,about…life.Youcanwin,youcanlose,youcandie.Youknow,real,humanthingsuniversaltoeveryone.”
“Thenwhythehell’sitcalledWomen’sFiction?”OffSewanee’spursedlips,Nicknodded.“Right.Sexism.Continue.”
“Thenthere’sRomance.TherehastobetwothingsforFictiontobeconsideredRomance.”
“Istheregoingtobeatestlater,becauseIdon’thaveapen.”
“One:therehastobeahappyending.Boygetsgirl,boylosesgirl,boygetsgirlback.Usuallysomegrovelingisinvolved.Thebeastistamed,allobstaclesareovercome,truelovefindsaway.”
“Afairytale.”
“Exactly,”Sewaneemurmured,thinkingbrieflyofthepanelearliertoday.Whichsomehowfeltlikeadecadeago.“Infact,there’sanacronymforit.HEA.”
“Happilyeverafter?”
Sewaneesmiledandtookabiteofsteak.“Whoneedsapen?”
Nickchewedthoughtfully.“Aretheypopular,theseRomancenovels?”
“Theymakeupaboutthirty-fivepercentofallfictionsold.”
Hesnappedhisheadback.“IshouldbepublishingRomancenovels!Knowanygoodeditors?”Heglancedathisplate.“Thissteak,bytheway.”
“It’sobscene.”
“It’satestamenttoyourcompanyI’meventalkingrightnowandnotdraggingthisoffintothecornerlikeaferalhyena.”Sewaneelaughedandtookanotherdecadentbite.“Andwhat’sthesecondthing?AboutRomancenovels?”
“Ithastobeabouttwopeoplefallinginlove.”Sewaneepaused,rememberingsomeofthebooksshe’drecordedasSarah.“Well,actually,nowitcaninvolvemorethantwopeople.Butithastobeaboutlove.”
Nickthoughtaboutthis.Tappedhisemptyforkonhisplate.“How’sthatdifferentfromalovestoryinWomen’sFiction?”
“TheHEA.”
“Right.So,Women’sFictioncan’tendhappily?”
Shewassooutofherdepthhere.Shewhirledherhand,reachedforherwine.“Thelinesareblurred–itdepends.It’saboutmarketing.Mostly.”Shehadnoideaifthatwastrue.
“That’sit?”
“Well.”Sheswallowed.“Also.Usually–notalways,butalmostalways–Imean,it’swhatthegenre’sknownfor,butusually…”Nowhewaspeeringather.“There’ssex.Onthepage.Lotsandlotsofpagesex.”
“Ohhhhhh.”Heelongatedthevoweltothepointofabsurdity.“Smut.Trash.Filth.Heavingbosoms.Throbbingmembersandthelike.”
“We’vestoppedusingeuphemismsinthelastthirtyyears,but–”
“Thekindofbooksyourspinsterauntwrapsinapaperbagandtucksawayinhernightstanddrawer?”
Sewaneeshookherhead.“You’dbesurprisedwhoreadsthesebooks.”Shetookanothersipofwine.“Youknowwhoshouldreadthesebooks?Men.Iftheyreallywantedtounderstandwhatmakeswomentick.”
Nickwipedhismouthwithhisnapkin.“Orwecouldjustask.Whatmakesyoutick,Alice?”
Sewaneecycledthroughpossiblerepliesinherhead,allsarcastic.Thenshestilled.Shedidn’thaveananswer.Ithadbeentoolongtoknow.Soshedeflected.“Whatmakesyoutick?”
“Curiosity,”heansweredwithouthesitation.“Idon’tunderstandpeoplewhostop.Whogo,I’mgoodrighthere,nomoreforme,ta.Youknowthatparable,theblokedyingofthirstwhogoestothewell?”
“Andwon’trisklookingintoittoseeifthere’swater,becausehecouldn’tlivewiththedisappointment?”
“Sohediesofthirst.Wompwomp.Me?I’dbelookinginthatwellforsure.Ihavethispainting–andI’mnotoneofthoseartpeople,butIhavethisonepainting–ofapaththatdisappears’roundabend.BecauseIalwayshavetogo’roundthebend.Mustdo.”
“Likethenextpageofanovel.”
“Liketheofferofdinnerwithabeautifulwoman.”
“God,you’regood.”
“Awomanwhosays,withobliviousinnocence,‘It’sabittight.Itneedstoopen.’”
Sewanee’sbrowfurrowed.“Well,itwas.Itdid.”
“Ay.ButyoucanbetIwasn’tthinkingofthewinewhenyousaidit.”Helookedquicklyatherdressthenhadthegracetolookaway.Hemuttered,almosttohimself,“IfIknewyoubetterIs’poseI’dbeashamed.”Afteramoment,hedaredtolookather.“ButIdon’t.AndI’mnot.”
Sewaneeunconsciouslylickedherlips.“Well.Toassuageyourcuriosity?IamandIdon’t.”Theretortflowedfromherassmoothlyasthewinefromthedecanter.
Nickstilled,untanglinghercomeback.Shesawthemomentitclicked.Hiseyesbulgedandanuncontrolledlaughburstoutofhim.“Jaysus.”Hethrewhisnapkinonthetableandslowclapped.“I’mdone.Youwin.”
“Wereweplayingagame?”
“Always.”
“Andyouliketowin?”
“Whodoesn’t?”
Smiling,theybothsippedtheirwine.Shesawhimglanceathiswatchandsaid,beforeshethoughtbetterofit,“Doyouhavetogo?”Shewassurprisedtofindhervoicehoarse.Shequietlyclearedherthroat.Goodthingshedidn’thavetorecordtomorrow;nothingdriedhervoiceoutlikeredwine.
“Notthissecond.Butsoon.”
Resigned,Sewaneesignaledthewaiterforthecheck.
“I’mcurious,”Nicksaid.“DotheytalktoeachotherintheseRomancenovelsofyoursorjustgetstraightdowntobusiness?”
“Ofcoursethere’stalking.Talkingisforeplay.Theotherstuffdoesn’tworkwithoutthetalking.”
Hesmiledslowly.“Youdon’tsay.”
FULLOFSTEAK,truffledpotatoes,andMargaux,SewaneeandNickgiggledtheirwayoutoftherestaurantandontothecasinofloor.Nickdraggedhisweekenderrollerbagandslimbriefcasebehindhim.Onimpulse,sheloopedherarmthroughhis,justanothercouplestrollingthroughaVegascasino,slightlyoverdressed,slightlydrunk,slightlyinclinedtomakebaddecisions.ThensomethingcaughtSewanee’sattentionandsheslowed.
Nickfollowedhergaze.“Areyouwantingtoplay?”
Shebitherlip.“I’mnotsure.Imean,IcamewithfivehundreddollarsandtoldmyselfI’dmakeonebet.Allofitonredorblack.”
“Right.”Hemovedtowardtheroulettetable.“Iwanttoseewhichoneyouchoose.”
Shetuggedhimtoastop.“IthinkI’malittletootipsytoenjoythewin.Andnottipsyenoughtohandletheloss.”Shemovedtoleave.
Hedidn’tbudge.“C’meretomeandlisten?”Shenoddedbenevolently.Hetookabreath.“Thisisn’tdire.Thisisn’tlifeanddeath.Eitherwayyou’rewalkingawayfromthetable.Theexcitement’sintheplay,yeah?That’swhatwe’redoinghere.”Hesteppedcloser.“Youcamewithfivehundreddollarstolose.Youcouldhavelostitinthejacks,slippedoutofapocket,intothetoilet,nevertobeseenagain.”Hepaused,gazedintohereye.“Surelyyou’velostmoreimportantthingsbeforethanfivehundreddollars.”
Foramoment,sheblinkedathim.Thenshesaid,“You’reright,youareanarse,”andwalkedstraighttothetable.
Sheopenedherpurse,pulledoutasmallbillfold,tookoutthewholeofthecashinit.Doit,Swan.Sheputthebillsonthetableandthecroupierchangedthemintochips.“Placeyourbets,placeyourbets,”hecalled.
Nickcameupbehindher,thefrontofhisbodyhoveringlikeapolarizedmagnetatherback.Withouthesitation,sheputallherchipsonred.Nickwhisperedinherear,“Winorlose?”Shewouldhaveansweredimmediatelywereitnotforhisvoicetravelingfromherear,downtheinsideofherneck,droppingintoherchestcavitywithafree-fallingthunkandthenpooling,seeping,intothepartofherthathadbeenswellingsincedinner.Shefoundhervoice.“Winorlose.”
Thecroupiertookthelittlewhiteballandreleaseditwithapracticedflourish.“Finalbets,please.”
Theywatchedtheballgoaround.
“Nomorebets,nomorebets.”
Astheballcircledthewheel,SewaneefeltNickinchfurtherforward.“Whyred?”hemurmured.
“Thesteak.Thewine.Yourtie.Mylips.”
Theballcircled.
Around.
Around.
Around.
Astheballslowed,sheleanedfurtherover.Itbouncedaround;black35;red7;green00;black17;red14.Andstopped.
Red14.
Sewaneedidn’tjumpupanddown.Shedidn’tscream.ShesimplyturnedtoNick,eyewide,lipsparted,andsaid,softly,“Thatwasincredible.”
Thatmadehimlaugh.“You’reincredible.”
Shekissedhim.Itbeganasathankyoukiss,somethingpureandalmostinfantile.
Butitlastedlongenoughtoreachpuberty.
Nickmoveddeeperintoherasthoughtheyhadknowneachotherforyears,hishandsfindinghersathersides,hismouthsoftandfirmandwarmandpowerfulandeverythinggoodshe’dforgottenexistedinthisworld.
Whenhepulledawayandsheopenedhereye,shefoundhimsmilingdownather.“Youshouldcollectyourwinnings,”hewhispered.
“Ialreadydid.”
Hislaughpropelledthemapart.ThecroupierexchangedSewanee’schipsforasingle$1,000onethatshedroppedintoherpurse.Nicktookherarm,steeringhertowardaquietercornerofthecasino.Well,asquietasaLasVegascasinocornercouldbeonaSaturdaynight.
Theywerebothbreathingheavily.Hiseyeslookedslightlyglassyandhistiewasaskewandherlegsshookabitandjustasshesaid,“Idon’twantyoutogo,”hesaid,“Idon’twanttogo.”
Theybroke.Theylaughed.Keptlaughing.Theylaughedsohard,theybentatthewaist.Shepushedhimgently,sohepushedherbackandshetotteredinherheels,crashedintoaswivelingleatherchairinfrontofaslotmachine,whichjustmadethemlaughharder.Why?Thiswasn’tfunny.Nothingaboutthiswasfunny.
Butitwasplayful.Itwassexy.Itwasalevelofintimacyshehadimagined,butneverexperienced.
Secondstickedby.Aminute.Theirbreathingsteadied.Theystraightened.Nicksteppedtowardherandtookherfaceinhishands.Theysmiledweaklyateachother.
Eventuallyhishandsfelltohershoulders.“I’mguessingyoudon’toftenfindyourselfinDublin?”
Sheshookherhead.ShehadtoremindherselftousetheTexasaccentwhensheanswered:“I’veneverfoundmyselfanywhere.”Sheheardhowthissounded,soadded,“Neverbeenthere,actually.”
Heseemedtocomeoutofatrance.Heslidhishandsdownherarmsanddroppedcontact.Hetookanotherbreath.
Shecuppedherelbows,holdingherself,suddenlycold.“Maybethisisbetter,”shesaid.
“How’sthat?”
“Maybethisisthewholestory.Imean,whatarethechances?”
“Ofwhat?”
“Ofthisbeingasgoodasweimagineitwouldbe.”
Hegrinnedather.“Butwhatifitwere?”
Shebitherlip.
Roysshecouldhandle.ChuckandJimbos–JimandChuckbos?–shecoulddealwith.Nickwassingular.Entirelyunchartedwaters.
Ontheonehand,Sewaneewasreadyforhimtogo,fortheeveningtoend.Curtaincloses,houselightscomeon,makeupcomesoff.Ontheotherhand,shewasreadytodropthephonyaccent,thefictitiouspersona,andmakeeverythingreal.Curtainopens,lightsdim,everythingcomesoff.
Butthatwasimpossible.
Soinstead,shesaid,“Howwouldyouwritetherestofthestory?”
“Whaddayamean?”
Shesteppedforward.“Thereisaquiz.”
Hepointedafingerather.“IknewIneededapen.”
“What’stheWomen’sFictionending?Andwhat’stheRomanceone?”
Helaughed.“Right.Grand.Heregoes.”Hetookadeepbreath.“Women’sFiction–IwantitonrecordIstillhatethename.”
“Getinline.”
Hepaused.“Iwrestlewithmydecisiontoleave.I’llhatemyselfforever,butIdoit.Iprobablyhaveafiancée.Andthere’sprobablyawaron.Welivecompletelydifferentlives,strugglewiththeunfairnessofitall.”
Sewaneewassmilingsowideherjawached.
“Thirtyyearslater,wecrosspaths.”Hegesturedatthecasino.“We’rebackhere.Somuchhashappened.Somuchsacrificed.Andyet,hereweare,togetheratlast.”
Sewaneetiltedherhead.“Engh,”shebegan,butNickheldupahand.
“But.I’vesomemysteriousdiseaseforwhichthere’snoknowncure.AndIdie.NoHEA!”Smilingvictoriously,heheldouthishandsasifhe’dsetabeautifultableandwantedherapproval.
Sewaneechortled.“Bravo!AndtheRomanceversion?”
“Thisone’seasy.”Hesteppedcloser.“Iblowoffmyflight.Wegoupstairs.Whathappensis…well.”Hewhisperedhuskily,“Pagesex.”Shelaughed.“Afantasycometolife,isn’tit?Nextday,wepart,butyou…you’repreggo,aren’tya?Cutto:OneYearLater.Ajobacrossthepond.Youbundleupyour–our–infantsonandshowuptoyourfirstdayofworkandyournewbossis,waitforitnow…me.Shocking,Iknow.Youdon’ttellmeaboutourson–Idon’tknowwhy,exactly,butyoudon’t–andweagreetoconductourselvesproperlyatwork.Then.Oneday.MydesireovertakesmeandIwant,nay,Imusthaveyou.”
Sewaneegiggled,hercheekspinking.Nicksteppedevencloser.“Idragyouintomyoffice.Lockthedoor.Sweepeverythingoffthedesk,allman-like,lotsofgrowling.Ipickyouup,setyoudownonit,rightthereontheedge.Ipushupthatskirtthat’sbeendrivingmemad,openyour–”
“Okay,okay,Mr.FastLearner.Igetthepicture.”
“Yousure?”
“Tease.”
“Youhavenoidea.”
Sewaneetookthedeepestofbreaths.“Thenwhat?”
“Well.Afterthatthere’snowayyoucancontinuetoworkforme.Soyouquit.Ichaseafteryouand…”Helookedpasthershoulder,thinking.“And…Iofferyoumoney–becauseI’mabillionaire,ofcourse–moneytostartthenonprofityou’vedreamedofstarting.Somethingwithkittens.ButthenIhear,offinanotherroom…Isthatthecryofaforlornkitten?Oristhatababy?!”
“Ohno,”Sewaneegasped.
“Youhaveababy?!Youslut!”
“Itellyouit’syours.”
“Jaysusno,notyet.BecauseyouseehowIreactandI’manutterwanker–sorry,Iforgottomentionthat–”
“Itwasimplied,it’salwaysimplied.”
“SoIgotomypenthouseorcastleorsomeshiteanddrinkmyselfabsolutelyrat-arsed.Andthen…andthen…”Nickblinkedhelplesslyather.
“Youhaveabrother.”
“Ihaveabrother!Abillionairebrother!And…?”
“Andheknowsthetruthaboutthebaby.”
“…How?”
“Becauseyouworktogether–”
“Atthemoneyfactory!”
“Andaftermeetingmeheputstwoandtwotogether.”
“…How?”
“Because.”
“Right.AndIfinallyrealizetheerrorofmywaysandIcomebegyourforgiveness.”
“Grovel!”
“Icomegrovelyourforgiveness.”
“AndIacceptyourgrovel.Becauseallmydreamshavecometrue.”
“Andwefixeverythingthatwaseverwrongwithusandwelive–”
“Happily.Ever.After,”theyfinishedinunison.
“Grand,”Nickbreathed,lookingatherinawaythatmadeSewaneefeellikehishandswereeverywhereonherbodyatonce.Sheheldhisgaze.Thenhelookeddownathisshoes.Thenathiswatch.Thenhestuckouthishand.“Alice.”
Shetookit.“Nick.”
“IleaveyouasIfoundyou.”
Hardly,Sewaneethought.
Nickstoppedapassingcocktailwaitress.“Excuseme?WhichdoordoIgooutoftogetataxi?”
“Whereareyouheaded?”sheasked.
“Airport.”
“Nottonightyou’renot.”
“Pardon?”
“Airport’sclosed.CanIgetyousomethingtodrink?”
“What?No,nothankyou,whatdoyoumeantheairport’sclosed?”
“Snow.Canyoubelieveit?”
“Sorry,snow?”
Sewaneesteppedover.“SincewhendoesitsnowinLasVegas?”
“Like,never,”thewaitressreplied.“LasttimeIwasinfirstgradeandwegotasnowday.Itwasawesome.”
NickandSewaneebothtookouttheirphones.
“Theairlinesentatextanhourago.”Helookedathisluggageasifitmighthavemoreinformation.“Ineedtogetaroom.”
“Ooh,yeah,that’snotgonnahappen.”Thewaitressrestedhertrayonacockedhip.“Justheardwe’resoldouttonight.”
“What?How?”
“TakeafightnightatMGM,Beyoncéinconcert,andthatbookconventionthingandthetown’snearlyatcapacity.Cancelafewhundredflightsontopofthat?”AtNick’sstrickenlook,shetappedhisforearm.“Youwantthatdrinknow?”
“No,nothankyou.”
“Well,casino’llbepoppin’allnight!Goodluck!”Shebeamedandleft.
Sewanee,stilllookingatherphone,mumbled,“Allflightsarecanceled.Inandout.Myfriendcan’tleaveLAX.”
Nickrakedahandthroughhishair.“Ihaven’tpulledanall-nightersinceuni.”Helaughed.“Snow?!Really?”
“Okay,”Sewaneemuttered,puttingawayherphone.“I’mabouttodosomethingandIdon’twantyoutotakeitinanywaythatcouldbe…whatever.Ihavearoom.”
Heraisedaneyebrow.“IsthisyourturnattheRomanceversion?”Shesnorted.“Letmeguess.There’soneverysmallbed.”
“Two,actually.Verylargebeds.Inverylargerooms.Verylargeseparaterooms.It’sallverylarge.Hotel-room-from–RainManlarge.”Sheimpulsivelycreatedabitmorespacebetweenthem.“I’mcomfortableofferingyouaplaceforthenight.Butonlyifyou’recomfortable.”
“I’mcomfortable.Butareyoucomfortable?You’reawfulkind,butareyou–”
“TheplaceissobigIcouldbesleepinginanotherstate.It’sfine.I’mfine.Ifyou’refine.”
“I’mfine!”
“Thenwe’regood.”Sewaneestraightened.“You’regood?”
“Good.”Nicknodded.“Afteryou.”
HefollowedSewaneethroughthecasinoandaroundthebend.
SHELETNICKenterthesuitefirst.Thebutlerhadbeenbytoturnonsomelights.Low.Moody.Sexy.Nicktookintheexpanseoftheroombeforetakingintheview.Hesmirkedather.“This’lldo,Is’pose.”
Heventureddeeperintothespace,intothelivingroom,hisbroadbacksilhouettedagainstthewindow.“It’sabitmagical,isn’tit?”
“Yes,”sheansweredasshemovedtowardhim,roundedhisrightside,andlookedoutintotheneonnight.Theflashingcolorsofthecity,likegelsontheaterlights,continuouslyshiftedthetintoftheirfaces.Theystoodsidebyside,staringoutthefloor-to-ceilingwindows.Beyondtheghostsoftheirownreflections,theStriplaysprawled,awhiteblanketcollectingoverit.Softflakesconfettiedfromthesky.ItwasasightSewaneeknewshewouldneverforget.
Nickmurmured,“Iwanttosaysomething.Somethingprofound.Poetic.Spiritofmyancestorsandsuch.Butforthefirsttimetonight,Ihavenowords.”
“You’verunoutofforeplay?”
“Cheeky.”Moresilence.“Itlookslikeapointillistpainting,doesn’tit?That’sit.That’sallI’vegot.”
“Well.QueSeurat,Seurat.”
Hethrewbackhishead.Thenhislaughmeltedlikethesnowhittingthewindow,slidingdowntheglass,andshewatched,intherefractedreflection,hiseyesslidedownherbodyinkind.“I’mfairlyconfidentthisisascloseasI’llevercometobeinginoneofyournovels,”hemurmured.“Thismustbesomesortoftrope,yeah?”Hewavedhishandabout,takingintheroom,thelights,thefallingsnow.Her.
Shecontinuedlookingout.Shefeltasthougheverythingshewaswearing–everylastthing–hadslippedoffher.Shehadneverfeltthisway.Shehadalwayswishedshewould.“Guesswhatit’scalled.”
“Somethingepic,I’msure.DivineProvidence?CelestialIntervention?”
Shechuckled.Shefinallyturnedtofacehim.“It’scalledSnowedIn.”Part2
Forgetyourpersonaltragedy.Weareallbitchedfromthestartandyouespeciallyhavetobehurtlikehellbeforeyoucanwriteseriously.Butwhenyougetthedamnedhurt,useit–don’tcheatwithit.
–ErnestHemingway
It’salwaysthemen,isn’tit,talkingaboutwritingfromaplaceofpain.Maybetrywritingfromjoy.Wegetit,theworldishard.WhichispreciselywhyIwrite:toescapeit.Calmdownwiththistorturedartistshitalready,myGod.
–JuneFrenchinCosmopolitanChapterSeven
“TheOffer”
SEWANEECARRIEDTHELASTTWOBOXESOFKEURIGPODSINTOMark’sgarage.HisbelovedKarmannGhia,Sal,tookuponesideandtheotherhadtwoshelvingunitswithanarrowpathwaybetweenthem.Everyinchaccountedfor,likeanaisleinaNewYorkgrocerystore.Theshelveswerestockedwithpapergoods,bottlesofcaffeine-delivery-vehicles,bulkbinsofassortedsnacks,andsparerecordingcomponents:extramics,cables,preamps,mixers.
AsSewaneeslidtheboxesontotheuppermostshelf,standingontiptoetodoit,thetighteningofhercalvesandarchingofherfeetsentarushthroughherbody.Hereyefellclosedandshewaslyingincoolsheets,backbowed,herheadturnedtothesideinpleasure,watchingthesnowfalloutside.Sheopenedhereyeandthesnowwasstillfalling,rightthereinthegarage.
Dust.Dustfromthedisturbedshelf.
Tellingherselftogetagrip,shequicklyfinishedhertaskandwalkedthroughtheconnectingdoorintoMark’shouse.
“Mark’sstudio”wasperhapsmoreaccurate.Hispersonallivingspacehadbeenreducedtooneroomoffthekitchenthathousedaqueenbedandadeskalmostaslarge.Therestofhishomewasallbusiness.AkitchenwithtwoKeurigs,threemicrowaves,akettleonthestoveandanelectriconeonthecounter,anentirecabinetoftea,snackslaidoutdailybySewanee,andwhatfeltlikehundredsofcupstoher,thepersonresponsibleforcleaningthem.Therewasanoversizedfridge,fullofeverykindofmilkandmilksubstitute,condimentsandsauces,andaproducebinconsistingentirelyoftheaudiobooknarrator’ssecretantidotetomouthnoise:greenapples.Nooneknewwhytheyworked(Acidity?Tannins?),buttheydid.Alicehadonceproposedtheyallgetgreenappletattoosuntilsomeone–probablyMark–hadpointedoutgreenblobswouldlooklikeadisease.
Eachofthefourbedroomsupstairshadaboothandsoundboardinthem.ThelivingandfamilyroomshadbeentakenoverwithworkstationsfortheeditorsandengineersMarkkeptonstaff.Evennow,onaSundaynight,therewasalow-levelbuzzofactivityastwoeditorshunchedovertheirdesks,headphoneson,readingalongtotherecordingtheywerelisteningto;stoppingwhentheynoticedamistake,markingthescript,andpreparingapackageofpickupsforthenarrator.Sewaneenoticedthenewerengineertappingoutaperfectdrumbeatonhisthighwithapencilwhilelisteningtotherecording.So,anothermusician,then.Thiswasnotunusual.Mostsoundengineerscameintotheindustrythroughthemusicdoor.
Alltheseguys(theyweremostlyguys)wereyoungandenjoyedthecommunalfriendlinessofthestudio.OfbeingaboveitallintheHollywoodHills,ofgrabbingadrinkwiththeothersdownonFranklinbeforeheadinghome.MorethanonebandhadformedinMark’slivingroomovertheyears.
Mostdays,SewaneefeltlikeaHouseMotheratafrat.Ifthefratwerefullofnice,mildly-altsoundnerds.
Shepassedbythetwoeditorswithoutbeingnoticed.ThatchangedwhenMarkcalledoutfromhisoffice,“Swan!”He’dheardthegaragedoor.Heheardeverything.
Shewalkedintohisbedroom/officeandfoundhislanky,sinewy-fitformsittingathisdesk,castedfootproppedup,peeringathiscomputermonitoroverthetopsofhiswire-frameglasses.
“Hi!”shechirped.“IstoppedbyCostcoonthewayhomefromtheairport,replenishedtheK-Cups.IwenttotheonetheyopeneduponShermanWay?Man,thatwholeareaisgrowing,huh?AndhowgreatisitflyingintoBurbank?Idon’tknowwhyanyonewouldeveruseLAX.How’sthefoot?”
Nowhewaspeeringather.“Isthiscaffeineorcocaine?”
“I’mexcitedtoseeyouisall.”
“AndI’mexcitedtoseeyou.”
“So.”Sheswallowed.“I’msureyou’dlikemetocatchyouuponVegas.”
Markexhaledsharply.Hisfaceturnedsomber.“Justunbelievable.”
Sewaneestilled.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Heshookhishead.“Sotragic.”
“What?”
“What?It’salloverthenews!”
“Thesnow?”
“Thesnow?No,theactress!”
Sewaneegrabbedachairandsatdown.“Okay,seriously:Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Idon’thaveallthedetails,butsomewannabeactresswentthirty-eightfloorsanddidn’ttaketheelevator,ifyouknowwhatImean.”
Sewanee’smouthopened,butnothingcameout.
Markcontinued,“Alltheyknowsofarisshewastherefortheconvention.IthinktheysaidshewasfromEastTexas.Ican’tbelieveyoudon’tknowaboutthis.”
Afewwordsspatteredout.“I…Ididn’t–Idon’tknowwhattosay.”
“Well,shedid!Apparentlyshewasscreamingallthewaydown,‘Happilyeverafterisbullshit!’”
Oscillatingbetweensuspicionandpanic,Sewaneesputtered,“Wait–youare–did–how–what–”
Markburstoutlaughing.Hisfullswoopofsilverhairfloppedintohisface;hisClintEastwoodcrow’s-feetcrinkled.
Sewaneecrumpledoverinthechair.“Youasshole!Youabsoluteragingasshole!”Shesnappedherheadup.“Howdidyouknowabouther?”
Markwipedatthetearsinhiseyes.“Alicewasinthismorningandtoldmeaboutyourlittleexchange.Icouldn’tresist.”
“God,youaresuchadick!”Shestoodup.“Ihaveworktodo.”Shestartedforthedoor.
“Youmakeittooeasy!Wait,don’tleaveyet,Ihavesomethingtotalktoyouabout.”
“That’sokay,IalreadyownapieceoftheBrooklynBridge.”Shecontinuedoutthedoor.
“Swan!I’mserious,comeback.I’msorry,butitwaspayback.Rememberyourlittletourdeforcelastmonth?‘Mark,ohmyGod,didyouseeSal’spassengerside?’YouknowhowIfeelaboutmyGhia.Nowwe’reeven.”
Sheturnedaroundandstompedbackintohisoffice,strikingadefiantposeinfrontofhim,armscrossed.“What?”
“Haveaseat.”
“I’mfinestanding.”
“Good,Iwantyoutostand.”
Inspiteofherself,shehuffedalaugh.Thiswastheirrelationship.Theyplayed,theypoked,theytested,buttheywerethereforeachotherwhenevereitherneededit.Orsimplywantedit.Theyhaddonemoreforeachotherthaneitherwouldeversay,mostlybecausetheydidn’thaveto.Theyworkedbecausetheylovedeachotherthewaytwopeoplecouldwhenattractionwasoffthetable.
“Yougotanoffer,”Marksaid.
“Okay?”Thiswasn’tunusual.Mostofthetime,offerscametoherdirectly,butoccasionallysomeonecouldn’tfindherandtheyreachedouttoMark.Butthewayhewassmilingmadehersuspicious.“What?”
“It’s…fitting.”
Sheknew.Shejustknew.“It’saRomancenovel,isn’tit.”
“Yes.Butno.”
“Mark.”
“I’mnotbeingcagey.It’sjustdifferent.”Heclaspedhishands.“YourememberJuneFrench?”
“Ofcourse.Shegavememystart.BackwhenIdidRomance.WhichInolongerdo.”
“Shediedrecently.”
“You’reclearlyverybrokenupaboutit.”
“Youknew?”
“Iknew.ButcanyouimagineifIdidn’tandthat’sthewayyoutoldme?”
“You’renotgonnamakethiseasy,areyou?”
“Afteryourlittletourdeforce,no.”
Herolledhiseyes.“Well,hervery-much-aliveproducerreachedout.There’saprojectshepennedthatneversawthelightofday.ShehadwantedSarahWestholmeto–”
“Stilldon’tdoRomance.”
“Swan,hearmeout.”Heleanedforward,broughtupthee-mailonhiscomputer,clearedhisthroat,anddippedintohisnarratorvoice.Thevoicethatreadpoliticalhistoriestothemasses.ThebelovedvoiceofDadLiteratureeverywhere.“‘DearMark,mynameisJasonRuizandIamworkingwithJuneFrench’sestatetoproduceanaudioversionofherfinalproject.IamtryingtogetintouchwithoneofJune’snarrators,SarahWestholme.I’vebeentoldyoumightbeabletoconnectus.’”
“IfonlyIstilldidRomance.”
“Shhhh.‘It’sabitoutsidetheboxandJunewroteitwithSarahinmind.ShewasJune’sfavoritenarratorandalsoafanfavorite.’”
“That’ssweet.ButIdon’tdo–”
“Willyoushutup?”Hewassmiling,buthemeantit.“‘Theprojectwillbedualnarration.Junehadintendedtoserializethisnewnovelintohour-longepisodesreleasedonaweeklybasisanddistributedthroughherplatform.’”
“Smart,”sheobserved.“ToobadIdon’tdo–”
“IsweartoGod,Swan–‘Thewholeserieswillbearoundeighthourslong,splitevenlybetweenSarahandthemalenarrator.IamawareSarahnolongerrecordsRomance…’”Markreadwithstrongemphasis,“‘butJunewantedheronemoretimeforthisambitiousanduniqueprojectandwaspreparedtocompensateherhandsomely.’”
Sewaneesighed.“Mark,youknowit’snotjustaboutthemoney.”
“Handsomely,Swan.PaulNewman/RobertRedford/the-kid-from-Outlanderhandsomely.Thisgoeswaybeyondthestandardflatsessionfee.”
Shethrewupherhands,preparingtobeunimpressed.“Howfarbeyond?”
Markwentbacktothee-mail.“‘WearepreparedtoofferSarahthirty-threepercentofthegrossrevenue.Whilewedon’tknowhowmuchthiswillbe,intheinterestoffulltransparency,subscriberswillpayninety-ninecentsanepisodeandwecurrentlyhavetwentythousandpre-ordersandwehaven’tevenannouncedthenarratorsyet.Wehaveacommitmentfromthemalenarrator…’”Atthis,Markglancedup,lipssmuglypursed,andsaid,“‘BrockMcNight,whohasneverdoneaJuneFrenchbookbefore,thoughfanshaveclamoredforit.Iknowhavingthesetwopowerhousesdoingtheprojectwillincreasethedownloadsexponentially.ItisagreatsadnessthatJunecan’t’–yaddyyaddyyahdah–‘pleaseforwardthistoSarahandIwouldalsoaskthatyoukeepthisconfidential.Thankyouforyourtime.Jason.’”Marksatbackandlacedhisfingersacrosshistrimstomach.“Yourturn.”
Sewaneesatbackdown.ShestaredatMarkacrossthedesk.Hewaited.Eventually,shesaid,“I’mnotusuallymotivatedbymoney,butthis…Ihavetoadmit…”
“Ididsomemath,justback-of-the-envelope,andmyrecommendation?Getmotivated.”
“Idon’tdoRomance–”
“Saythatonemoregoddamntime–”
“Youdidn’tletmefinish!Idon’tdoRomance…butI’llthinkaboutit.”
Markslappedhisdesk.“That’sallIwantedtohear.UnlessyouhaveanythingjuicytodishaboutVegasland?”
Caughtoffguardbythetopicchange,hercheeksflushedtraitorously.Markclockedthis,raisedhiseyebrows.“Ms.Chester!”
Herembarrassmentwaspalpable.“I’mgladIwentandI’llleaveitatthat.”Shestoodup.
Markraisedhishands.“Youdon’twanttotellmeaboutStudman’sprowessinthebedroom,youdon’thaveto.”
Sewanee’smouthdroppedopeninmock-outrage.“ItoldAlicethatinconfidence!”Helaughedandshestoodforonemoremomentbeforesaying,“Thankyou.Foreverything.Don’tknowwhatI’ddowithoutyou.”
“Beabroken,sadmess,”hesaidbuoyantly.
Sheturnedtoleave,butthenwalkedbackandhuggedhim.
ONTHEDAYSlifepreventedSewaneefromgettingtothegym,shecomfortedherselfknowingshe’datleastwalkeddownfromhercasitatoMark’shouseandbackup:sixty-fourhillsidestepseachway.
Tonight,shealsocarriedherluggage,sotherewasthat.
Sheletherselfinandflippedonthelivingroomlight,setdownhersuitcase,andranhersleeveoverherbrow.Sheshookoffherhoodieandcrossedtotheslidingdoorontheoppositesideoftheroom,pullingitopen,lettingthemildDecembereveningairrefreshthetinyspace.
Shetookamomenttostepoutonthebalcony.Mark’shouseenjoyedaspectacularviewofdowntownL.A.andthesurroundingvista.Theguesthousesharedtheview,butthosesixty-fourgym-skippingstepsgaveheranevengreatersenseoftheexpanse.
Hollywooddowninfront.Totheright,thedamofthereservoirpeekingout.Furtherbeyond,thetwinklinglightsofthecity.Occasionally,asearchlightatGrauman’sChineseTheatreortheEgyptianoranawardsceremonyattheDolbywouldscanthesky,butnottonight.ItwasaquietSundayevening.LinesofwhiteheadlightsandredtaillightsdemarcatedHighlandandCahuengaandVine,allrunningtoandfromthe101freewaylikeparallelstripesinatartanplaid.Inthedistanceandslightlytotheright,thelightssimplydisappeared,felloff,givingwaytothePacific.Thepiècederésistancelaidinwaitbehindher.Shewalkedtotheleftsideofthebalconyandturnedaround,lookingupthehilltotheHollywoodsign,loominglargerthanmostpeopleevergottoseeit.Thesightalwaysmadeherfeelathome.
Tonight,therewasamarinelayeronthewestsideandalittlesmogonthissideoftown,sothesunsetwaslessabowlofbrightsherbetandmoreaslowlyexpandingpuddleofspilledstrawberrymilkshake.
Sewaneenevertookanyofthisforgranted.Itwasaviewpeoplepaidmillionsofdollarstoseeeverynightandshegotitforthebargainpriceofrunningthestudio.
Shewentbackinside,intothesmallgalleykitchen–stillboastingflamingo-pinktilesfromthe1930s–andputthekettleon.Shewentintothecozylivingroom,turnedontheTV,clickedthroughtotheGolfChannel.Shequicklyunpacked,camebackintothekitchenasthekettlebegantowhistle,andmadeherselfacupofgingerteaintheTea-For-Onecombinationcupandminiteapothermotherhadgivenherwhenshe’dgraduatedfromJulliard.Marilynhadwantedherdaughtertorememberthatbeingalone,beingonherown,didn’tmeanshehadtobelonely.Itwasasymbolofindependenceandshelovedit.
Finally,shesettledonherloveseat,curledherlegsunderher,andtookstockofherlife.
Howmuchcouldpossiblychangeintwenty-fourhours?
She’donceknowntheanswertothat:everything.Butthistimewasdifferent.Thistimewasn’timmediatelytangible.Thiswasmorelikeaseedhadbeenplanted;thechangewasintheoffing.
ShepickedupherphoneinanefforttochangethechannelinherbrainandnoticedshehadaWhatsAppmessagefromhermother.Sheclickedonit.
Santorinitoday.Beautiful.Lotsofyoung,drunkpeoplestumblingaround.RemindedmeofUCLAontheweekends.Hereforaweek.Let’svideocallsoon.Loveyou.HopeVegaswasfun.DidIseeitsnowedthere?
P.S.Stuismakingmesendthisphoto.
AttachedwasapictureofMarilynmid-biteofagiganticgyro.Itwasn’tflattering,butitwasspiritedandjoyfulandSewaneehadsucharushofmissinghermomshefeltforamomentshehadbeentransported,wassittingatthetable,enjoyingthefragranceofhermother’scherryblossomperfume.
Shecheckedthetime;therewasnothingshewantedmorethantotalkeverythingthroughwithhermom.Likeanymotheranddaughter,they’dhadalong,circuitous,oftenconflictedjourney,buttheirroadshadreconvergedjustintimeforMarilyntoleaveonanactualjourney.Shewashappyforhermom,butitwastoughinmomentslikethis:itwasthemiddleofthenightinGreeceandSewaneewasforcedtorelyonherself
Thejob,shethought.Let’sstartthere.
Sheknewhowridiculousherdeliberationwas,she’dseenitonMark’sface.Sheknewanyothernarratorwouldopenaveintomakethiskindofmoney.Opportunitieslikethisnevercamealong
Sowhatifshedidn’tbelieveinthewayRomancenovelsportrayedlife?Shewasn’tthegatekeeperofreality.Shecouldbelievewhatevershewantedandgetpaidatonofmoneytoletotherpeoplebelievewhatevertheywanted.Thisprojectdidn’trepresentherpersonalpointofviewanymorethantheSci-FiorFantasyorSpeculativeFictionsherecordeddid.
AtextcameinfromAdaku:
Youmakeithome??
SEWANEE:
yes.Yourluggageisinmycar.Wannacomebytomorrownight?
ADAKU:
notgood.Tuesdaynight?
SEWANEE:
yup.
ADAKU:
andIwanttohearEVERYTHING
Sewaneechuckled.She’dtextedAdakuaround2A.M.tellinghershe’dmetsomeone.Actually,herexactwordshadbeen:sorryIruinedyourmakeoverandshe’dattachedapictureofherselfsittingontheendofthebed,clutchingasheettoherchest,eyepatchoff,smudgedmakeup,smearedlipstick,rats’nesthair.AnappingnakedNickinthebackground.He’dwokenupfiveminuteslaterandthenighthadcontinued.
Sewaneetexted:
Promise.
Andsetherphonedown.
Tomorrowshe’dgotoSeasons,checkonBlah,talktoAmanda,talktoherfather.
Shefinishedherteaandletthecuprestinherlap,lookingoutintothenightatnothinginparticular.Theresidualwarmthofthecupseepedthroughherskirtandsheopenedherlegstotheheat,soothingthepleasurabletendernessthere.Shebegandrifting.Shewasinabed,aman’sheadpressedintoherneck.Heturnedhisfaceandbroughthismouthtoherearandwhispered,“Beautiful.Everythingbeautiful.”
AFTERALUNCHoficedteaandchickensalad,SewaneeandBlahBlahheadedbacktoherroom.
Blahmadeherwayin,Sewaneerightbehindherincaseshelostherbalance.Butoncetheywereinside,BlahclosedthedoorasSewaneeheadedovertoasmallcouchoppositehergrandmother’sfavoriterockingchair.
“Pssst!”Blahhissed,andSewaneeturnedaroundtoseeherpointingatthedoor.“CanyoubelieveMitzi?Whatajobtheydidonher!”shestage-whispered,thoughtheywerealone.“Youcallthataface-lift?Icallitafelony!”Blahcackledherwaytothesmallkitchenettethatcontainedaminifridge,acoffeepot,andamicrowave.“JesusH.Christ,whatabotch.”BlahgrabbedapackageofMallomarsoffthecounter.“Sheusedtolookhalf-decent,nowshelooksindecent.”Blah’shumorwasaremarkableholdoutofherdwindlingacuityandSewaneehadafeelingwhenthejokesnolongerexisted,neitherwouldBlah.
Shechuckled.“It’snotthatbad,Blah.”
“Sheshouldhaveleftbadenoughalone.Youhungry?Youwantsomething,Doll?AMallomar?”
“No,thanks,I’mstuffed.”
“Metoo,metoo.”BlahputtheMallomarshe’dtakenoutbackintoitsplasticcradle.
BlahBlahneverate.Notreally.Whileacookiewasalwayscloseby,shedidn’teatfullmeals.Whenpressed,Blahwouldclaimitwasbecauseshe’dbeenbornduringtheDepression,butSewaneeknewthestudioshaddrilleditintoher.Now,shestilldidn’teat,asiftomorrowshemightbeaskedtostripdowntoabikiniforascreentest.
SewaneeandBlahsatdown.Blahrockedinherchairwitharhythmestablishedoveralifetime.She’dbeennursedinthatchairandhadnursedHenryinthatchairandnowsheappearedagelessinit.Sewaneewatchedhergobackandforth,seeingsimultaneouslyalittlegirlwhosefeetdidn’ttouchthegroundandanoldwomanwhocarriedthatlittlegirlthroughallofherninety-twoyears.
“Areyouhungry?Doyouwantsomething?”
“No,thankyou.I’mstuffed.”
“Metoo,metoo.”
“Thechickensaladwasprettygoodtoday.”
“Ihatechickensalad.Iliketuna.”
“Right,Iforgot.”
“Yourmemoryisshot,Doll.”Blahwinked.
Theybothsmiledagain,andSewaneefeltthelullinconversationbegin.Blah’sjokesaside,theconversationdidn’tflowasitoncehad.
Sewaneehadfirstnoticedthechangeaboutayearago.Blahwouldforgetthey’dtalkedonthephone.Thenshe’dforgetthemoviethey’dgonetosee,ortheartexhibit,orAdaku’sbirthdayparty.Thenshehadtroublerememberingwhyshe’dmovedintoSeasons.SewaneewouldremindherthathersisterhaddiedandthatBlahhadneededtomoveoutofthehousesoBitsy’skidscouldsellit.Interestingly,allhermemoriesofbeinginthehousewereasaguest,eventhoughshe’dlivedthereforoverthirtyyears.Henryconsideredthiswishfulthinking:inBlah’smind,shepreferredtheversionofherselfwiththeelegantpartyhomeinBeverlywood,notasalodgerinhersister’spetiteShermanOaksranch.Maybehewasright.
“Areyouhungry,Doll?Doyouwantsomethingtoeat?”Blahrepeatedforathirdtime.
“I’mgood.”Theslowdeteriorationhadbeenchallenging,butthisrecentaccelerationwasterrifying.ShehadtofindoutifBlahwasawareitwashappeningtoher.“How’syourmemorythesedays?”
“Idon’tknow,what’stoday?”
Sewaneegaveherasmile,butsaid,“Seriously.Isitdifficulttorememberthings?”
Sherolledhereyes.“I’mold,everything’sdifficult.”
Sewaneewishedshedidn’thavetoaskthenextquestion.“DoyourememberwhathappenedonFridaynight?”
Blahgotagoodrockgoing.“Didsomethinghappen?”
“Carlosfoundyouinthecommonroominthemiddleofthenight.”
“No,hedidn’t.”
“Hedid,Blah.Accordingtohim,youthoughtyouwereinTennessee,gettingreadyforyourdebutanteball.”
Blahwentsilent.Sewaneewentsilent.ThelookthattraveledbetweenthemwaseverythingSewaneeneededtoknow.
Blahmadeherwaytoherfeet.“WantaMallomar,Doll?”
“No.”
Shewhispered,“DidyouseeMitzi’sface-lift?”
“Blah–”
“How’syourmother?”SheretrievedaMallomarfromthepackagesittingontopoftheminifridgeinthecorner.“Sheshouldcomeforlunchsometime.”
SewaneewatchedBlahnibbleatacornerofthecookie.“Shedoesn’tlivehereanymore.”
Blahstoppednibbling.“Sincewhen?”
“Sincethedivorce.”
“Whatdivorce?”
Wassheserious?“MomandDad’s.”
“Ofcourse,ofcourse.Therearesomanythesedays!”Blahlaughed.Shetookanothercookieandreturnedtoherrocker.“Didshegohome?”
“Foraboutayear.TotakecareofNanabeforeshedied.ThenshemetStu.”
BlahBlahnoddedandnibbled.“Stu’sanunfortunatename,butStusarealwaysnice.Howdidtheymeet?”
“It’sagoodstory.Wannahearit?”
BlahBlahsetherhalf-eatenfirstcookiedownonthecoffeetable,keepingthesecondoneinherotherhand.Shesatback.“Ilovehowyoutellstories.”
Sewaneesatback,too,fingeringthefrayingarmofthecouch.“SoafterNanadied,Momcleanedoutthehouseandhadagaragesale.Andinthemiddleofmakingchange,shenoticedamanloiteringbyanoldVictrolainthedriveway.”
“Marv’soldVictrola?”
“No,Nana’s.Butyou’reright,youhadaVictrola,too.Anyway,shewent–”
“Whathappenedtomine?”
“I–Idon’tknow.”Sewaneehadn’tseenitsinceBitsy’shouse.ShecouldaskHenryaboutit.
ButBlahdidn’tseembotheredbythemystery.ShetookabiteoftheMallomarshewasholding,thehalf-eatenoneforgottenonthecoffeetable.
“So,Momwentuptotheman.‘CanIhelpyou?’Andhesays,‘Ican’tbelieveit,weusedtohavethisexactmodelgrowingup.Doyouhappen–’”
“Jeezlouise,everybodyhasaVictrola?”
ThismadeSewaneelaugh.“Iguessso.Anyway,heasksifshehasanyrecords–”
“Shedoesn’thaverecords?Ihaverecords.Somewhere.”
“No,she–shehadrecords.Sheopenedupthecabinetandpulledoutawholebunchofold78s.Heflippedthroughthemandthenstoppedandsaid,‘MayI?’MomnoddedandhestartedcrankingtheoldVictrola,wounditupgood,andputarecordontheturntable.EllaFitzgeraldstartedsinging.”
“Oh,EllaFitzgerald!Whichsong?”
“‘I’llChasetheBluesAway.’”
“Golly!”Blahstartedsingingit.Hervoicehadthinnedtoacrackle,butshecouldstilltrill.“‘I’llchasethebluesaway…’”
“That’stheone.AndheaskedMomtodance.Rightthereinthedriveway.Shewasinsweatpantsandableach-stainedT-shirtandbeforesheknewit,shewascryingandtheystoppeddancingandhejustheldher.Whenthesongstoppedplaying,theypulledapart,andhesaid,‘I’mStu,’andshesaid,‘I’mMarilyn.’Andthey’vebeentogethereversince.”
“StillinSeattle?”
ItwasPortland.HermomwasfromPortland,buttobefair,BlahBlahcouldneverrememberthat;she’dalwaysthoughtitwasSeattle.“No.Stu’drecentlyretiredfromNike.He’dneverbeenmarried,neverhadkids,andhadgottenhighupinthecompany.Highupenoughtobuyanapartmentononeofthosecruiseshipsthathavecondosonthem?”
“Cruiseshipshavecondos?”
“Thesedo.Andyoucangetonandoffwheneveryouwantasittravelsallaroundtheworld.They’vebeenonboardforaboutayear.”
“Howperfect!CanIgetone?”
“Well,they’reexpensive.”
“Oh,I’msuretheycostaprettypenny,butsowhat?It’slikeafairytale,”Blahmurmured.“AndMardeservesit.”ThewayshesaidthismadeSewaneebelievethat,forthemoment,Blahrememberedeverythingaboutherex-daughter-in-law.
“Shedoes.Yes,shedoes.”
“Andhow’syourothergrandmotherdoing,withherdaughterallovertheworld?”
“She…died,Blah.”
Blah’sfacewentslack.“Well!Sheshouldhavesaidsomething!”Sewaneechuckled.Whatelsecouldshedo?“How’syourmomhandlingit?”
Shedidn’tknowwhattosay.Shejustdidn’t.Shewasn’tgoingtoretellthestory.“She’sdoingfine.”
TherewasaknockonthedoorandBlahBlahcalledout,inabadWalterMatthauimpression,“Ennnterrr!”
ThedooropenedandAmandapokedhersmilingheadin.Sewaneehadtextedheratlunch,lettingherknowshewasinthebuilding.“You!EversinceyouhadmewatchTheSunshineBoys!Yougetmeeverytime.AmIcrashingtheparty?”
BlahlaunchedintothestoryabouthowNeilSimononcecameontoher,whichshedidanytimeshequotedfromTheSunshineBoysorBarefootintheParkorTheOddCouple.Shestoodup.“WantaMallomar?”
Amandamadeashowofputtingherhandoverherstomach.“Ah,thanks,Ijustate.MayIstealyourlovelygranddaughterforaminute?”
Sewaneestood.“Iactuallyhavetogetgoinganyway.”
“Areyourecordingsomething?”BlahBlahasked,eyeslightingup.
“Iam!Amystery.”Sewaneewaggledhereyebrows.
Blahlookeddisappointed.“Youshouldrecordmorelovestories.Weneedmoreloveinthisworld.Fewercriminalsandevilandmurder.”
Sewaneewenttohergrandmotherandhuggedher.“Whenyou’reright,you’reright.”Shepulledbackandlookedather.“Fridayhappyhour?”
“It’sadate,Doll.”
SewaneekissedheronthecheekandjoinedAmanda.Blahcalledafterher,inastagewhisper,“GetalookatMitzionyourwayout!Talkaboutamurder!”
AMANDATOUREDHERthroughmemorycareandSewaneehadtoadmitshewasimpressed.Itwasnice.Itwasclean.Itwasquietandcomfortableandbright.Butaballofsomethingunpleasantchurnedinherstomachthemomentshe’dcrossedthethresholdandshecouldn’ttellifitwasworryorsadnessorevenapremonition.Ofhavingtoseelessandlessofhergrandmother,nomatterhowmuchmoreshevisited.
InsteadofgoingbacktoAmanda’soffice,theywalkedoutsideinthegarden,asifAmandacouldtellSewaneeneededfreshair.“Well.Whatdoyouthink?”
“It’sgreat,”Sewaneeansweredhonestly.“MuchbetterthanI’dthoughtitwouldbe.”
Amandasmiled.“Iappreciatethat.We’vewonmanyindustryawards.Idon’tknowifyouknowthis,butwewereratedthenumberoneassistedlivingfacilityinthecitythisyear.”
“Ididn’tknowthat!BarbaraChestercanpick’em.”Theysatdownonabench.“Dadwillbegladtohearthat,too.I’llbetalkingtohimalittlelater.IsthereanythingelseIshouldrelay?”
“Therewillofcoursebearathersignificantincreaseinthecostofcare.”Sewaneenodded.“She’llstartoutatLevel1,whichissixty-eighthundredpermonth.”Shedidn’tknowforsure,butshethoughtthatwasaboutdoublewhathergrandmotherwaspayingnow.Amandacontinued,“Foreachlevelofcareadded,it’sanadditionalthousanddollars.”
“So,what’stheworst-casescenario?Whensomeone’s…herebutnothere?”Sewaneewinced.
“Thehighestlevelofcareisthirteenamonth.”
Sewanee’sbreathcaughtatthat.“Wow.Okay.Imean,that’sfine.Blahdeservesthebest.Sheisthebest.”Sewaneeswallowed,surprisedshehadtoholdtearsback.“Sorry,it’s–”
“No,please.Noneofthisiseasy.”Amandapaused,givingSewaneetimetocollectherself.“LastthingI’mobligedtosay,andforgivemeifImentioneditwhenyouallfirsttouredthefacility,butwedon’thaveaMedicaidcontract.So,there’snopossibilityofoutsideassistance.”
Sewaneeshookherhead.“I’msurethatwon’tbeaproblem.What’sthetimeframeformovingher?”
“ItdependsonBlah.”Amandapulledherreindeersweatertighteraroundherandcrossedherarms.“HadtheincidentonFridaynotoccurred,I’dhavethoughtshe’dbefineforawhilelonger.Butinthesesituations,dayscanfeellikemonths.It’sdifficulttopredict.”Amandatookamoment.“Ifitwereme,Iwouldwanttoputheronthewaitlist,togettheballrolling.Butit’sobviouslyuptoyou.Itwillprobablytakeacoupleofmonthsforavacancy.”
AtSewanee’ssilence,Amandaexhaled.“Iknowthisistough.Iwentthroughitwithmymom.”
“I’msorry.”SewaneerespectedAmanda.Sheshowedgenuineconcernandwascaringlyhonest.ShewasagoodwomandoingherbestinwhatSewaneeknewwasadeeplyflawedsystem.“I’lltalktomydad,thoughI’msurehe’lltellyoutoputheronthewaitlist.AnythingIcandointhemeantime?”
Amandasmiled.“Youkeepreadingthosebooks.Theygetmethroughmycommute.ButIagreewithBlahBlah.How’boutalovestorysoon?”
SEWANEESETTLEDINonhercouchafteralongafternoonofrecordingandabowlofnourishingsoup,andcalledherdad.ShetoldhimeverythingAmandahadtoldher,reportinginashehadrequested,andthensaid,“So,allyouhavetodoismakethecallandshe’llputBlahonthewaitlist.”
“Oh,isthatall?”
“Yeah.”
“Justonequestion:Where,exactly,didyouladiesfindtheburiedtreasure?”
“What?”
Henrytookabreath.“Fouryearsago,yourgrandmother,againstmywishes,movedherselfintoSeasons.ThisisafterIhadfoundaperfectlysuitablefacilitythatacceptedMedicaid,intheeventsheshouldlivelongenoughtorequirecareshecouldn’tafford.Butshewouldn’thearit.IthadtobeSeasons.”
“So?”
“So,I’vehadtostandby,watchinghersavingsdwindledowntonothing.I’veevenpitchedinoverthelastyear.Ibetshedidn’tmentionthat.”
Sewaneeheldupahand,asifhecouldseeher.“Dad.Hangon.Doesn’tshehaveSocialSecurity?AndwhataboutthatlandinTennesseesheleasesoutforgrazing?AndIdon’tknow,maybesome–”
“Buriedtreasure?”
“Stopwiththeburiedtreasure!”
“Nothing’sleft,Swan.Shecleanedherselfout.Hermonthlyincomedoesn’tevencoverwhatitcostsnow.”Hepaused.“Whichiswhy,insteadofgoingtoSeasonstogetalltheinformationIalreadypossess,youcouldhavetriedaskingmewhatwasbest–”
Sewaneegroaned.
“Mustyougroan?Ifyouhavesomethingtosay,usewords.Soundsareforanimals.”
Sewaneegroanedagain.Loudlythistime.
“Sewanee–”
“Youwantwords?Fine.Youreallycan’taffordtohelpherpayforthis?Orareyoujustbeingvindictive?”
Henrylaughedoutloud.“Vindictive?Youhaven’tearnedtherighttoanalyzeme,sweetheart.Idon’thaveajob.Idon’thaveahousetomortgage.ThelawyerswipedoutwhateversavingsIhad,yourmothergetshalfmypension,andIhavemyownlifetoworryabout.”Hesnorted.“MaybeMarilyn’sSugarDaddycanhelp.”
Sewaneetookthephoneawayfromherearandalmostthrewitacrosstheroom.Shebroughtituptohermouthlikeawalkie-talkie.“Askmymother’sboyfriendtopayforyourmother’scare,that’syoursolution?”
“Itwassarcasm.”Hehadhiscondescending,professorialvoiceon.Whenhespokeagain,hesoundedimpatient,donewiththis.“Look,thisisn’tyourresponsibility.I’llhandleitfromhere.”
Shedidn’tlikethesoundofthat,notonelittlebit.“Whatareyougonnado?”
“Iknowaplacewhereshe’llbecomfortable.”
Sewaneegrewfrantic.“Dad.No!She’shappyatSeasons,everyoneknowsher,caresabouther.Shehasfriends.Shehastostaythere.”
“Peopledie,Swan.Decisionshavetobemade.Itwouldbelovelyifthosedecisionscouldbebasedonfeelingsbut,unfortunately,theycomedowntomoney.”Henryapparentlyheardhowcalloushesounded,becauseheadded,moregently,“YouthinkIdon’tcare,butIdo.Iwantyoutoknowthat.Iwishyou…thesearehardthings.Hell,IstruggledoverdecidingwhattodoaboutSarah.”
Sewaneepaused.“Sarah?Ourdog?Whatareyoutalkingabout?Therewasnodeciding.Shewashitbyacaranddied.”
“No,shewashitbyacarandlived.Butthesurgerywasgoingtocosttengrand,soweputherdown.”Alongsilence.“I’mnowrememberingweagreednottotellyouthat.”
“YoukilledSarah?!”
“Noooo,”heexhaled,“thedriverkilledSarah.Imerelydecidednottointervene.Shewastwelveyearsold.”
“So?!”
“Sothat’sagoodrun.Ninety-twoisagoodrun.Look,I’mnotpushingherouttoseaonanicefloe.Thisiswhathappenstomillionsofpeoplewhenthere’snomoneyleft.Theygointothesystem.”
“Butthesystemisbad!Thoseplacesarebad!”
“Stopbeinghistrionic,they’renottheDickensianhellscapeyou’re–”
“Youdon’tknowthat.You’vehardlysteppedfootinsideSeasonsletaloneanyotherplace.You’renotgoingtobetheonecheckinguponher,Ican’tevengetyoutogotoSeasonsforbingonight!”
“Whatdoesitmatterifshedoesn’tknowwheresheis?”
Sewaneecouldn’texhale.“Dad.”
“Swan.Honestly.Whatdifferencedoesitmake?”
Allshecouldsaywas,“I’llremindyouofthisconversationintwentyyears.”
“You’renothearingme.I’mtryingtogetyou–”
“Goodnight.”Shehungup.
Hourslater,Sewaneelayinbedunabletosleep.
Shewantedtofixthis.
Shewantedeveryonetobehappy.
ShewantedtobebackinLasVegas.
Eventually,around4A.M.,shegotup,showered,dressed,madeteatogo,navigatedthesixty-fourstepstohercar,andtextedMark:
TelltheJuneFrenchpeopleI’min.
ShedrovetheemptyfreewaystoWestLosAngeles,totheeight-unitapartmentbuildingoffBundy,whereshesatinthecaruntilareasonablehour–sixo’clock–gotout,wenttoherfather’sdoor,andknocked.ChapterEight
“TheDecision”
WHENHENRYCHESTERWASTWENTY-FIVEANDLIVINGINNEWYORK,hisfather’sbodywasdiscoveredslumpedoverhistypewriterbyahousekeeper,twofingersofOldSmugglerScotchinthetumblerbesidethecarriage,threecigarettesintheParamountPicturesashtray–onestillsmoldering–deadfromaheartthathadsimplygivenup.
Marvinhadbeenascreenwriter.AndSewaneerememberedHenrytellinghertherapidtappingoftypewriterkeys(soliketheticktockofaperfectlybalancedpendulumclock)emanatingfromhisfather’sofficehadcalmedayoungHenry.Itmadehimfeelsafebecausehisfatherwasdoingsomething,makingsomething,beingproductive.ButBarbarahadbeenaperformer,inthetruestsenseofthatword.Onstageoroff,she,herself,wasalwayson.ToHenry,sheembodiedtheerraticunpredictabilityofanoverwoundclock.
HenryleftBrooklyntoreturnhome,tomournhisfather,topickupthereinsandhelpafiftysomethingwomanwhohadnevertakencareofanythingonherownlearntotakecareofeverythingforthefirsttime.
ButBarbararesistedthehelp.Shewouldhandleit.Theproblemwas,Henryknewshewouldn’thandleit,she’donlypretendto.She’dperformhandlingit.Afterallthis,everythinghe’dsacrificedtohelpher,Barbarawasgoingtobe…well,Barbara.
Eightmonthsin,aftershe’dstarteddatingamoneymanagerHenrycouldn’tstand,couldsmellthebullshitwaftingofftheguylikecologne,hegaveup.He’dgoneintoMarvin’soffice,pouredsomeOldSmuggler,fingeredthetypewriterkeys,andenviedhisfatherfortakingtheeasywayout.
Withinafewyears,EaudeFraudhaddisappeared,thehousewasforeclosed,andBarbaramovedinwithBitsyandspentthenextthirtyyearsrebuildingasavingsshe’dburnthroughinfouryearsatSeasons.
SewaneewasmorethanawareofhowallthisrankledHenry.She’dgrownupwiththesighsandtheeyerollsandthethrown-uphandsaftereveryphonecall.Shefeltbadforherfather,butshefeltworseforBlah.Thetimehadcome,amerethirty-fiveyearson,forthisbattleofwillstoend.Someoneneededtoendit.Thatsomeonewasapparentlygoingtobeher.
Shecouldheartheshufflingstepsofherbeslipperedfathermakinghiswaytothedoor.Withoutunboltingthechain,heopeneditacrackandpeeredout.Uponseeinghisonlychild,themorningsleepinessinhiseyesslidintoconcern.“Areyouokay?”
“I’mgreat.Ihavesomethingtotellyou.”Hervoicesoundedcarbonated.
“Didyouloseyourphone?”
“Justopenthedoor.Please?”Hertonewhenshesaid“please”grantedheraccess.Itwassubservientenough,littlegirlenough,topersuadehim.Heclosedthedoorandunlatchedthechainwithmethodicalundertaking,asifshewerebeingletintoaprisoner’scell.Thedoorreopened;Henryhadalreadywalkedawayfromit.
Hewasinhistatteredbathrobe,asfamiliartoherashisface.Hesatdowninapatchyleatherreclinerthatperfectlycomplementedthedisintegratingrobe.Hewasholdingacupofcoffeesoblackitlookedlikeaportaltoanotherdimension.“Youwantacup?”hemumbled.“It’syesterday’s,buthelpyourself.”
Shewentintothekitchen,quicklyopenedandclosedthefewcabinetslookingforamug.Shefoundadirtyoneinthesinkandgaveitarinse.Shepouredsomecoffeeintoitandplaceditinthesmallmicrowavewithbuttonssowornshehadtoguessatwhatshewashitting.Asshewaited,shelookedaround.
Hehadn’talwayslivedhere.Afterthedivorcethreeyearsago,whenthey’dsoldthefamilyhome,Henryhadoriginallymovedintoaswankyhigh-riseapartmentintheWilshirecorridorbefittingarespectedUCLAprofessor.Doorman.Valet.Gym.Sewaneehadbeensohappyforhim,forhisfreshstart.Afterall,she’dblamedhermotherforthedivorce(shehadinitiateditwithzeroprovocation,asfarasSewaneeknew)andbackthenshewasdaddy’slittlegirl.
Butthefollowingyearshe’dfoundoutshewasn’tdaddy’sonlylittlegirl.Everythingcameoutatonce:Henrywaslosinghisjob,becausehe’dhadanaffairwithagraduatestudent,whichhadstartedwhilehewasstillmarried.
They’dstoodinthatbourgieWilshireapartmentonoppositesidesofthelivingroomliketworeluctantgunfighters.HadMarilynknown?Isthatwhysheleft?Yes,Henryadmitted.Butthiswholethingwasherfault.Shehadn’tbeenawife,notreally,notforalongtime.Sheneverappreciatedhim,allhe’dgivenupforher,fortheirfamily.Butthegirl–Kellyhernamehadbeen–hadappreciatedhim,hadreveredhim.Andyes,he’dbeentakenin,butshe’dpursuedhimruthlessly,andSewaneewouldunderstandwhenshewasolder,howastarvingman,etc.,etc.,etc.Sewaneehadrejectedthispremise,talkedaboutthepowerimbalancebetweenteacherandstudent,butHenryhadshouted,“Powerimbalance?!Who’sgettingwhomfired?!”Shewastheonewho’dhadthepower!She’dusedhim!
Usedhim.
Therewasnothinglefttosayafterthat.
Theancientmicrowave’sbeepwasmoreofamoan.Sewaneetookthemarginallywarmedmugandwalkedintothelivingroom.Itwasashortwalk.Therewasanoverflowingbookcasenexttoafutoncouch.Therewasn’tacoffeetable;therewasn’talamp;therewasn’tevenaTVbecauseHenrydidn’t“believe”inTV.Therewasjustthefutoncouch,thebeatenleatherchair,Henry,histatteredrobe,hisblackcoffee.
Sewaneedidherbesttoshelvehersarcasm,butitwasalowshelf.“Likewhatyou’vedonewiththeplace.”
“Sit.”
Shedid,liftedthecuptoherlips,blewgently,andtookaswallowofblackness.Shehadcomeherewithresolve,withexcitement,withanswers,andshewouldnotlethimdiminishit.Asignificantsmileopenedupherface.
“Littleearlytolooksochipper,no?”Histonecouldsmotheraforestfire.
Undampened,Sewaneesaid,“Youdon’thavetoworryaboutBlahanymore.I’mgonnapayforhercare.”
Herwordshungintheair,aclusterofballoonswaitingtobegatheredup.ButHenryletthemdrift.Sheassessedhiminthesilence.Stillattractiveforhisage,abitofabelly,someerrantnoseandearhair,alittlejowly,maybe,butAdakuhadsaidoncehelookedlikeGabrielByrneandSewaneehadn’tbeenabletounseeitsince.“Where,exactly,isthiswindfallofmoneycomingfrom,Swan?”heeventuallyasked.
“Ifoundtheburiedtreasure!”Shelaughed,hopingHenrywouldjoinin.Hedidn’t.“Igotavoiceoverjob,”shesaid,happily,addinganotherballoontothestill-suspendedcollection.
“Avoiceoverjob.”
“Yes.Thevoiceoverjob.Aonce-in-a-lifetimejobthatwillcoverthecostofhercare.Allofit!”Afinalballoon.
Henrylookedintohiscoffee.Hisvoicetookonawornquality,asiftherewereholesinit.“Andyouwouldtakethisonce-in-a-lifetimeopportunitytohelpsecureyourownfutureandthrowitawayonsomethingthisunnecessary,thisfrivolous?”
“Firstofall,myfuturewillbefine,andsecondofall…Unnecessary?Frivolous?Really?”
“Youcan’tknowyourfuture,Swan.”
Pop.
“Youdon’tknowyou’llbefine.”
Pop.
“Iwouldthinkyou’dhavelearnedthat.”
Pop.
Then,tohimself:“Iswear,talkingtoyouisliketalkingtoher.”
Andpop
Nowthatherballoonsnolongerhungbetweenthem,shesawhimclearly,evenifnothingwas,infact,clear.“Idon’tgetyou,”shegrittedout.“I’vetried…butIdon’t.”
“Ofcourseyoudon’t.”Monotone.Dead.
Sheshookherhead.“Whycan’tyoubehappy?I’mdoingthisforyouasmuchasforher.Whycan’tyouseethat?You’refree.Nooneowesanyoneanything.Whatelsedoyouwant?”
Henrywasn’tlookingather.Hewaslookingattheraggedhemofhisbathrobebelt.“Idon’twantanything.Nothing,Iwantnothing.”Hegavehiscoffeeaswirlanddownedtherestofit.
“Idon’tunderstand.Icameheresohappy,soexcitedtotellyou–”
“You’reright,youdon’tunderstandme.Noneofyoudo.”Hisvoicehadashakiness,asifitbelongedtoachildleftbehindinastore.
Thevulnerabilitysurprisedher,whichwaswhyittookheramomentlongertostand.Whenshedid,shereachedouttohimandsaidtheonlythingshecouldthinkof.“Handmeyourcup,I’llrinseitout.”
Heshookhishead.“I’lltakecareofit.I’mnotcompletelyuse–helpless,I’mnothelpless.”
“Dad…”
Henrygotupandwalkedintothekitchen.Sheheardhiscuplandinthesink.
Sewaneegatheredherselfandwenttothedoor.Butwhensheopenedit,shecouldn’tbringherselftocrossthethreshold.Shestoodthere,goingnofartheroutnorbackin.She’dcometobuildbridges,notblowthemup.Whycouldn’theatleastmeetherhalfway?Shesaid,staringstraightahead,“I’dthoughtyoumightbethankful.”
Henryscoffed,wentbacktohischair.“Appreciationisnotsomethingofwhichanyoneinthisfamilyiscapable.”
Thebitterness.Shefeltasfrayedashisbathrobe.Herangerflared.Lifehadn’tgoneasplannedforanyofthem,butHenrygottobetheloneinjuredparty?
“Takecareofyourself,Dad.”
Justassheenteredthefreshnessofthemorningair,herfathersaid,“Youwanttotakeyourturn,gorightahead.Butitwon’tmatter.You’llsee.Evenwithoneeye,you’llsee.”
Shecouldsensehisregretevenbeforethesentencehadconcluded,couldhearitintheweakened,thinnerreiterationof“you’llsee.”Shewaitedamoment,amomentinwhichanormalpersonwouldsay,“Forgiveme.I’msorry.Thatcameoutwrong.”Hesaidnothing.
Shewantedtoturnandfacehim.Screamathim.Walkbacktohimandloomoverhiminhisstupidchair,yankoffhereyepatchandmakehimtouchherscar,presshisfacetoit,kissit.Instead,sheflickedawaythetearthatfellfromherothereyeandwalkedout.Sheleftthedooropen.
THEWESTSIDEMORNINGtrafficwasalreadyatastandstill.Sewaneewasinnomoodtofightsomethingelsethatmorning,sosheheadedwestinsteadofeast.Sheneededtheocean.Sheneededspace.Sheneededtobreathe,havingdonesolittleofitsincethemomentsheenteredHenry’sapartment.Sheeasilyfoundstreetparkingshewouldneverhavefoundanhourlater,grabbedthejacketshekeptinthebackofhercar,andmadeherwaytothecliffsidewalkingpathofPalisadesPark.Thenearestbenchwasoccupiedbyamancocoonedinanoverusedsleepingbag,soshewalkedtotherailingandleanedherelbowsonitandlookedthroughthemorninghazeattheocean.
Theskywasbeginningtolighten.Sheinhaleddeeply.
SheallowedthethoughtofcommittingtotheJuneFrenchprojecttotakeroot.Shefelttherisingsunonherbackandclosedhereye,lettingtherhythmicsoundofthewavescaressher,lettingthewarmthandthebreezeandthecrashingsurfcarryhertoaplaceaJuneFrenchnovelwoulddescribeingleefuldetail.
Itwasstillslightlyshockingshehadthesenewmemoriestoreturnto.
There’dbeenafewmensincetheaccident,allcasual,nothingrelevant.Sexhadbeenanexerciseinnostalgiaforher:awaytoremindherselfshecouldfeelsomething.Ithadn’tbeenawant.UntilVegas.UntilNick.
“Whatapissah!”
Thevoicewasmoreintrusivethanitmightnormallyhavebeen,givenwhereSewanee’smindhadwandered.Shetriedtoignoreit,hopingitwoulddisappearasquicklyasithadarrived.
“SewaneeChestah!I’drecognizethatbacksideanywhere!”
Shehopeditwasn’twhoshethoughtitwas.Shereallyhopeditwasn’t.
Sheturnedaround.
Itwasexactlywhoshe’dhopeditwasn’t.
Adecadeolder.Shirtless.Oakleysonthebackofhishead.Spandexrunningshorts.“OhmyGod,”wasallshecouldsay.
“Justplayin’,”DougCarreysaidinthatsmokytrademarkBostonaccent.Andthen,predictably,helaughed.Doughadalwayslaughedatanythinghesaidwhetheranyoneelsejoinedinornot.“Damn,girl!”Hiseyessweptherbody.“Lookatyou!”
Sheliftedherhandsmarginallyathersides,anunenthusiasticta-da.Hemovedinforahug,seemedtothinkbetterofit.“Ah,I’mallsweaty.”Sohekissedhercheek,grabbedherwaist,andsqueezed.Itfeltanalytical,likehewasmeasuringtherealityofherbodyinthismomentagainstwhathemayberemembered.
Hesteppedbackandpulledavoice.“Ofalltheginjoints,amiright?”Itmighthavebeencharmingwerehenotterribleatimpressions.HisHumphreyBogartwasclosertoGilbertGottfried.“Shit,what’sitbeen?Fiveyears?”
“Ithinkatleasteight.”
“Nosuh!Really?”
Really.Trusther,Doug.
“Well,youarewearingthemwell.”ThatTigerBeatcovergrinresurfaced.
“Youtoo,”shesaid,thenfollowedtheliewithanunwrittenlawofHollywoodinteractions:thestatedrecognitionofanactor’ssuccess.“TommyCallahan.”
Backwhenthey’dmet,he’dbeenonthefasttracktoactionmoviestardom,butheoverspentthemoneyhe’dmade,losthisedge,and,desperateforcash,tookanetworkfamilysitcompilotthatwenttoseries.AndnowhewouldforeverbeTommyCallahan,theReformedBadBoyTurnedSingleDadTryingHisBest.
Shecouldn’tstoplookingathim.Hewasn’taginggracefully,washe?Hewasn’tgettingcraggyorjaggedorcrinkly;hewasgettingblurry.
Andyet:men.Theykeptworking.
“Yeah,it’sagoodgig.”Helaughed.Shedidn’tknowwhy,butshelaughedalong.“ButIwassureifanyonewasgoingbigleagueitwasyou.Where’dyougo?Youlike,peaced.”
“Oh,I,uh…I’vebeendoingalotofvoiceover.”
Hesnappedhisfingers.“Wickedsmaht.Definitelythefuture.Everyonethinkstheycanjustdoit,butit’saskill.It’sawholenothertalent.I’mgettingintoitmyself.”
Sewaneesaid,“That’sgreat.”ButSewaneethought,nowweshouldbelaughing.
“Notthatyougotafaceforradioornothinglikethat.”Hewinked.Thenhepointedathiseye,swirledhisfinger.“Whathappenedhere?”
“Ihadanaccident.”
Dougwinced.“Yikes.Igotamascarawandintheeyeonce.Makeupgirlwasallworkedupandsomeonebangedthetrailerdoorshutand–”hecluckedhistongue“–directhit.Ihadtowearoneofthoseforawholemonth.Howlongyouinfah?”
Sewaneelookeddownathershoes.
Eightyearsago,thismanhadbeggedhiswayintoherbed.She’dmadehimwaitmonths.She’ddelightedinhiseveryagonizedtext,thewayhe’dshowupattheloungewheresheworkedandplanthimselfattheendofthebarjusttowatchher,thegroansinthebackofhisthroatwhenshe’dlethimkissher.Theirshadbeenanage-olddance,achase,ahunt,anditsendhadn’thurt.Ithadbeentransactionalfromthebeginning.He’dgivenhermonthsoffeelingworshipped,she’dgivenhimafewnightsofwhathewanted,andthentheyweredone.
AndthewholeofthatentirerelationshiphadbeenasexcitingasonesinglethoughtaboutNick.
“Spareafewbucks?”
Sewaneelookedup.Themanfromthebenchhadmadehiswayovertothem,encasedinhissleepingbag.
Dougmadeashowofpattinghisskintightshorts,“Ah,sorry,brothah.”HelookedatSewanee,wasalreadybackingaway.“Thiswasdope.Youstillgotmynumber,right?Givemeabell.”Heputhishanduptohisear,pinkyandthumbextended.“We’llgrabsomeDunks!”Hejoggedaway.
Yeah,no.
Sewaneereachedintoherjacketpocket,tookoutafewsinglesshe’dleftthereforvalettips,andhandedthemtotheman.
“Thanks.Thatguyonasitcom?”
“Uh…yeah.”
Shesupposedshedidn’thidehersurpriseaswellasshe’dintended,becausehepreemptivelyofferedanexplanation.“Iusedtobeanactor.”
“Ah.”
“He’sahack.”
“Yeah.”
Themanstuffedthebillsintohispocket,wentbacktohisbench,andcurledupunderneaththebag.
SewaneeinchedherwaybacktoHollywood,clearedthestudiosinkofmorning-rushcoffeecups,andfoundMarkinhisoffice.Shetappedthedoorframeandhelookedup,smilingwide.
“How’sitfeeltobemotivatedbymoney?”
AFTERADAYofbillingandacoupleofhoursinthebooth,SewaneewashappytohearAdaku’sknockonherdoor.“Comein!”shecalled,asshefinishedpouringtwoglassesofrosé.
“Thisiswhyyourassisamazing,”Adakusaidfromtheothersideofthekitchenwall,soundingwinded.SheroundedthecornerandtookSwanintoayogahug.
ShechuckledintoAdaku’sear.“Youworkoutwithatrainerfourtimesaweek.”
“Andyetthesestairsstillkillme!”
“Well,here.”ShehandedAdakuaglassofwine.Shewasabouttoaskhowthedrinks-meetingatLAXhadgone,butAdakulaunchedintothestoryunprompted.
“So,themeetingstartedoutawkwardasshit.Hehadnodesiretomeetmeletalonehaveaconversation.”Shetookaquickgulp.“Hesaysthetypicalproducerstuff,IcomebackathimwitheverythingI’vegot,andthenhefinallyadmitshedoesn’tthinkI’m‘culturallyBlack’enoughtoplayAngelaDavis.”
Sewaneestoppedmid-drink.“Whatthehelldoesthatmean?”
“Whatitalwaysmeans:nothing.Theyseeyouthewaytheywanttoseeyou.Black,white,tall,short,fat,skinny…you’recondemnedtoit.”
Sewaneepursedherlips.“Howoldisthisguy?”
“Tooold.Toowhite.”
“PerfectpersontomaketheAngelaDavisstory.”
“Well,funnyyoushouldsaythat.Itoldhimmaybehewasn’t‘culturallyBlack’enoughtobeproducingit.”
Sewaneegasped,eyebugging.“OhmygodIloveyou,whatdidhesay?”
Adakuliftedherglassandsmiled.“I’mofficiallyinthemix.”
Sewaneelaughed.“Youareonaroll!Cheers.”Theyclinkedglassesandmovedreflexivelytowardtheporch.Unlessitwasraining,theyneverconfinedthemselvestoSewanee’sshoeboxlivingroom.
AdakuopenedtheslidingscreendoorforSwan,whosehandswerefullwithglassandbottle.“Okay,nowlet’sgo!Iwantthefullstory!Everydetail!Nobroadstrokes,noglossing.Iwanttoknowthenitty,thegritty,andwhathedidtothemtitties!”
Sewaneeguffawedandtheysatdowninthetwostackableplasticchairsshe’dsecuredatagaragesaleforfivebucksandwhichwerelightenoughtocarryupthehill.ThenshespenthalfanhourtellingastorythatleftAdakuopen-mouthed,knee-slapping,andspeechless.AndAdakuwasneverspeechless.
Whenshewasdone,Sewaneetoppedtheirglassesoff.Thesilencewasunnerving.“Pleasesaysomething.Youknowwhat,actually,don’tsayanything.IdidwhatIdidandIhavenoregrets.Alittleoutofcharacter,Iknow,but…”AtAdaku’srecedingchin,sheamended,“Alot,alotoutofcharacter,butA…”Sheputdownthebottle,lookedatherfriend.“ItwasthebestnightI’vehadinyearsandnotbecauseofthesex.”
Adakuraisedabrow.
“Notjustbecauseofthesex.”
AdakuassessedSewanee.Thenaslow,Cheshiresmilefilledherface.Onewordfellfromherlips.“Damn.”
Sewaneesprangup.“Ineedasnack.”Shedippedbackinsideandtriedtogethernervesundercontrol.Relivingthenighthadmadeitreal,concretizedit.Itwasnowastory,onethathadbeensharedwithanotherperson,opentoscrutiny,availableforopinion.Outsideofherheaditbecame…alot.Maybeitwassomethingtoregret.
Shegrabbedtheboxofgluten-freequinoacrackerthingsshekepthereforAdakuandwentbackoutside.
AdakutookthefoldedsidetableleaningagainstthewallandplaceditbetweentheirchairsasSewaneeresettledherself.“There’ssomuchtounpack,”Adakumurmured.“Thisisn’tasuitcase,it’sasteamertrunk.”
Sewaneeshookherhead.“There’snothingtounpack.”
Adakubitherlip.“Youreallyleft?Youbothjustwalkedawaywithoutanycontactinfo?None?”
“I’dbeenlyingaboutwhoIwas.”
“Yeah,but–”
“And,remember,hedidn’tofferanything,either,sochancesarehewasn’texactlyontheupandup.”Shedroppedherfaceintoherhands.“OhmyGod.Whoknowswhoheactuallywas?JesusChrist,Ican’tbelieve–”
“Nope,unh-unh,stop.Don’truinit.Hewashot.Youweresafe.”Sheleanedover,squeezedSewanee’sleg.“It’sahappyending.”
“Oneofmany,”Sewaneemumbled.
Adakulaughedandsatback.Shelookedoutattheviewandsighed.ThengaveSewaneeaside-eye.“Thethinghedidwiththering,though.”
Sewaneegroaned.“Don’t.”
Adakuheldupahand.“Justsaying.LikesomethingoutofaRomancenovel.”
Sewaneesatforward.“Oh!That’sanotherthingthathappened.”ShetoldherabouttheJuneFrenchproject.Howthey’dmadeheranoffershecouldn’trefuse.
Adakutiltedherhead.“IthoughtyouweredonewithRomance.”
“Iwas,butit’scrazymoney.”
“Doyouneedmoney?Issomethingup?”
SewaneeknewifshetoldAdakuaboutBlahBlah,she’dwanttohelp.ButSewaneeneverwantedAdaku’ssuccesstorescueherfromherlackofit.Thiswashowfriendshipschanged;hell,thiswashowfamilieschanged.Howhelpbecameresentment.Soshebrushedcrackerdustoffhersweatpantsandsaid,“There’sonlysomuchmoneyIcanevermakedoingthisjob–there’saceiling,nomatterhowin-demandIam–andthisisaonce-in-a-lifetimeopportunitytocashin.Buildalittlecushionformyself,youknow?”
Adakulookedoutattheviewagain.“Makessense.”
“Imean,it’llbe,like,eighthoursofwork.Maybeten.It’sinsane.”
“What’sitabout?”
Sewaneesetdownherglassandpulledoutherphone.She’dtoldMarktogivethemtheolde-mailaddressshe’dusedforSarahWestholme.Theoneshehadn’topenedoncesinceloggingoutofitsixyearsago.She’dresurrecteditonherserveranddiscovered–inadditiontopagesandpagesofspamshewasnevergoingtowadethrough–threerecente-mailinquiriesaboutthisproject.WhichexplainedwhytheproducerhadreachedouttoMark.AtMark’sgo-ahead,Jasonhadimmediatelye-mailedSarahsotheycouldworkoutrecordingdetails.Sewaneescrolledthroughthee-mailnow,skippingoverthe“I’msoexcitedtobeworkingonthistogether!Thankyousomuch!”part,thenreadaloud:
“‘Thisdual-narrationseriesisaboutabusinesswomanwhoputhercompanyonthebackburnertohelpherhusbandwhilehewasdying.Afterhisdeath,shemustnowgoaboutrebuildingbothherbusinessandherlong-dormantsexuality.Fiveyearsprior,onthenightbeforeherwedding,shemetanaspiringartistand,whiletheirattractionhadbeenundeniable,shefaithfullyrefusedhim.Butnowsheisfreetoseekhimout,onlytodiscoverthathehasnotforgottenher,either.Furthermore,itturnsoutthatbringingwomen’ssexualitybacktolifehappenstobehisthing…he’safamousgigolodescendedfromCasanovawhohostswealthywomenfor“rejuvenating”weekendsathisancestralpalazzoinVenice.Shecan’taffordhim,buttheystrikeabargain:hewillgiveherhisfullVIPpackage–’”ShelookedatAdaku,heldupherphone,tappedherscreen.“Itactuallysays‘package.’”Shelookedbackdown.“‘–ifshewilluseherconnectionstogethisartinfrontofherveryrichfriends.It’sadeal!Butcanthesetwowanderingsoulskeeptheirtransactionstrictlyprofessional?’”Sewaneerolledhereyeatthis.
Adakuclappedexcitedly.“That’sactuallycute!”
“Sure,whynot.”
“Itis!Who’stheothernarrator?”
“ThealphamaleofRomance.Atleastaccordingtotheaudienceatthepanel.”Shesaidhisnameasifheraldingthearrivalofaking:“SirBrockMcNight!”
Adakujumpedup.“What?!”shescreeched.
Sewaneelookedstartled.“Notyou,too!”
“Swan!Like,ninetypercentofmylibraryisBrockMcNight.”Sheheardherself.“Andyou,ofcourse.”
Sewaneepouredmorewine,smirked.“Butishisguyvoiceasgoodasmine?”
Adakuscreechedagain.“You’veneverheardhisvoice?!”
“YouknowIdon’tlistentoaudiobooks.Givemeyourglass?”
Adakuobligedandthenfishedherphoneoutofherbackpocket.“Iamabouttointroduceyoutotheman,themyth,thelegend,thevoiceofmyever-lovingdreams,Brock-talk-me-dirty-McNight.”
SewaneechuckledasAdakuperchedontheedgeofherchairandsetherphonefaceuponthefoldingtable.Sewaneelookeddowntoseeabookcoverthatwasnothingbutaman’sglisteningbaretorso.“Billionaire”wasinthetitle
Astheaudiobookbegan,AdakutookherglassbackandwatchedSewanee’sfaceintently,akidwho’djusthandedhermomanewdrawing.
Thestoryopenedlikesomany.Manseeswomanstandingacrossaroomandcataloguesher“assets.”Shehadnarratedsomanyoftheseopeningscenesthatforamomentshewasdistractedbytherepetitiveness.Butthen.Thevoicehit.
Bythetimeithadcarvedthroughthefirstparagraph,hereyesflickedtoAdaku,whowasstillstaringather.Thirtysecondslater,she’dgoneslack-jawedandAdakubarelycontainedhersmugmirth.Fiveminuteslater,whentheco-narratorstartedhersection,whenthevoicewasnolongerpresent,Sewaneefelttantalizinglyunfulfilled.Itwasabiteofchocolatewhensheneededthewholebar.
Yes,hehadagreatvoice.Low,ofcourse,andresonant,obviously,andtheperfectbalanceofgrowlandbreath.Shecouldn’timaginehimnarratinganythingotherthanRomance;he’dbetoodistracting.
Butashedescribedhisbody’sreactiontoseeingthiswoman,thewayhermereexistenceaffectedhim,hemadethelistenerwanttobeher.Heatblastedfromhisvocalfurnace.
ItwasSewaneewhobrokethesilence.“Whoisthisguy?”
Adakupushedherknee.“Right!?Youeverheardanyonelike–”
“No.No.No,he’s…no.”
AdakucackledandSewaneecouldtellshelikedseeingherthrown.“See?Leanin,Swan,I’mtellingyou,thisissomehotshit!”
Atthatmoment,Sewanee’sphonedinged.
Shedeflatedslightlyandpickeditup.“Sorry,butI’mwaitingforane-mailfromSeasons’billingdepar–”
HergasphadAdakuspinningtowardher.“What?IsitBlahBlah?”
“No.”Sewaneelookedup.“It’sBrockMcNight.”Part3
Weworkinthedark.Wedowhatwecan.Wegivewhatwehave.Ourdoubtisourpassion.Ourpassionisourtask.Therestisthemadnessofart.
–HenryJames
Idon’tknowwheremyideascomefrom,butyouknowwheretheycometo?Mydesk.AndifI’mnottheretogreetthem,theyleave.Assinthechair.Assinthechair.That’sart.
–JuneFrenchinCosmopolitanChapterNine
“Epistolary”
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:December6,5:24PM
Subject:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
HiSarah,
BrockMcNighthere.GotyouremailaddressfromJason.ThoughtI’dgiveyouashoutbeforewegivethisthinglegs.
Idon’tbelievewe’vehadthepleasureofworkingtogetherbefore(thousandapologiesifI’mwrong!),butI’mabigfanofyourworkinJune’sShadowWalkersseries.
Feelfreetoreachoutonceyou’vereadthefirstfewepisodes.Anypronunciations/charactervoicestodiscuss,letmeknow.
This’llbefun,
Brock
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:December7,8:41AM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Thankyousomuch,Brock.I’mafanofyours,aswell.
I’lldigintothefirstfewepisodesandwilldefinitelyreachoutwithquestions.Warning:Itendtohavealotofquestions!
Lookingforwardtodoingthis.
Best,
Sarah
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:December13,3:16PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Hiagain,
Okay,finishedreadingthefirstthreeepisodes.Enjoyedit!But,asIwarnedyou,Ihaveasignificantnumberofquestions(attached).AlsosendingalongasampleofwhatI’mthinkingofdoingwiththevoices.Letmeknowiftheseworkforyou.
Best,
Sarah
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:December14,10:27AM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Goodquestions.Madenotesintheattachment.CharactersamplessoundPERFECT.
Brock
SEWANEEWASLOADINGthedishwasherwiththeusuallunchtimedetrituswhenshesawMarkcomeoutofhisofficeandhitthebuttonforthehouse’sancientintercomsystem.
“MayIhaveyourattention,please.Thee-mail…”Hegavehisbestdramaticpause.“…hasarrived.”Sewaneestoppedloading,retrievedastackofclearplasticcupsfromacabinet,andunstackedthemontheisland.MarkwenttothegarageandreturnedwithtwobottlesofKirklandbrandsparklingwine.
Normally,thehousewaslibrary-silentduringtheday.Therotatingnarratorsandengineerswereensconcedinthefourbedroomsandtheeditorsweresittingatdesksinthelivingroomlisteningtorawaudiofiles.Ifconversationhappened,itwasmurmuredlowlyinthekitchenormorevolublyinthegarage;onthedeckyoucouldlaughwithoutbeingheard.Butnow,thefloorboardsaboveSewanee’sheadcreaked,doorsopened,andfootstepsmadetheirwaydownthethickly-carpetedstairs.Theeditorspulledofftheirheadphones.
Theherdgatheredinthekitchen,Aliceamongthem.Sherarelycametothestudioanymore,butherhomeboothwascurrentlyoutofcommission.Mostfull-timenarratorshadhomestudios,soMark’splaceusuallyhostednewnarrators,oldholdouts,actorswhoonlydidaudiobooksoccasionally,andcelebrityorauthorreaders.Itwasnicetoseeafamiliarface.
AliceslippedherarmaroundSewanee’swaist,givingherakissonthecheek.SewaneemovedtothrowherrightarmacrossAlice’sshoulders,butshe’dneverregainedfullrangeofmotion.ShesubstitutedasnuggleintoAlice’sside.“Howyou?”Alicewhispered.
“Good,”Sewaneemurmuredback.“You?Whatareyourecording?”
“They’reunicorns.Exceptwhenthey’rehumans.Thentheyscrewalot.”
“Hearye,hearye!”Markcried,pullingafoldedraftofpapersoutofthebackpocketofhisDockers.Helikedtopreservetraditionwheneverpossibleandheparticularlyenjoyedthisone.He’dbedamnedifhereadthisoffascreen.“Ihaveinmyhandthesacredscroll!Thecommuniquefromonhigh!Thefatesofeverylivingbeing!Gather’roundtohearyourfortuity!”
AliceandSewaneesnorted.
“Fortheuninitiated,theAudiesaretheOscarsoftheaudiobookworld.Andwehaveamongus,here,inthisverykitchen,godsoftherealm.YourMerylStreepofRomance”–helookedtoAlicehere–“yourDanielDay-LewisofSci-Fi”–anodtoBrian,anarratorwhoinsistedonwearingatieintheboothbecauseitmadehimfeellikehewasatwork–“yourpromising-newcomer,the,shallwesay,AdakuObiofFaith-BasedandInspirational…”SewaneelaughedasMarkgesturedtoababy-facedwomanshethoughtmighthavebeennamedCarly.“And,ofcourse,yourCateBlanchettofFictionandwinneroflastyear’sBestFemaleNarratoraward,SewaneeChester.”Atipofaninvisiblehat.
“Don’tforgetyourself,”shecalledout.“TheKatharineHepburnofHistoryandBiography.”
Markcurtsiedamidthehoots,butcontinued,“Now,theAcademyAwardsmighthaveacelebrity-strewntelevisedannouncementofthenominees,butwearen’tnearlyasfussy,arewe?Nay!Wearehumbleartistes,whopreferouraccoladestoarriveviaelectronicmail,onanawkwardmid-weekafternoonrightbeforetheholidays.”Morechuckles.“Thisyear’sceremonywilltakeplaceon…”Hescannedthepaper.“…Wednesday,March10th.Now,theceremony.Ahhh,theceremony.Firstandforemost,arrangetransportationbecauseeachticketincludesnotone,buttwodrinkcoupons!”
Marksaidlouder,overthelaughter,“Theeventisblacktie,soleaveyoursweatpantsathome,monamis.Shaveallthepartsnooneusuallysees.Decidewhichfootwearyou’llspendtheeveningcomplainingabout!”Helookedbacktothepaper.“Andwhatisthis?Domineeyesdeceiveme?Hark!Thisyear,theeventshalltakeplacehere,intheCityofAngels!”Atthis,avictoriouscrywentup.“LosAngeles,rejoice!NewYork,packyoursunblock!”Theentiregroupapplaudedandwhistled.“Andso,withoutfurtherado,whileIreadthecategoriesandnominees,unepetiteBlanchettoverherewilldistributethebubbly.”
Atthat,SewaneemovedawayfromAliceandtohertask.Markbegantoread.Sheknewifshecheckedherphone,she’dprobablyseetextsande-mailsfromfriendsandcolleagueswhohadalreadyscannedthenomineesandreachedouttoher.Butshepreferreditthisway.
Intheend,MarkwasnominatedforaJeffersonbiography,AlicewasnominatedtwiceintheRomancecategory(oneaco-narrationwithBrockMcNight,whohadanadditionalnominationofhisown,promptingapointedraisedeyebrowinSwan’sdirectionfromMark),andsheherselfwasnominatedingeneralFictionforThemHills.NooneintheroomwouldhavesensedherdisappointmentatnotbeingnominatedinthebigkahunaBestFemaleNarratorcategoryshe’dwonthepreviousyear.Shewastoogoodanactresstoletanysuggestionofastingshow.ButwhenshesawtheshockedjoyonCarly’sfaceathavingbeennominated,forthefirsttime,inYoungAdult,shewasremindedthatallofitwasanhonor.Morethantheawards,shehadasteadyjobinanindustrysheloved.
Aseveryonechattedandsippedtheirmeagerrationofsparkles,SewaneefoundAliceinacornerofthekitchen.Oneoftheengineers,Petra,cameuptothemandtheycongratulatedher,too–she’dengineeredoneofthenominatedbooks–andAlicesmiledather,settingherplasticglassinthesink.“Let’sfinishoutthechapterandcallitanight.LetSwangetinstudio3.”AliceknewSewaneerecordedwhenevertherewasafreebooth–that’showshemadethebarteringworkwithMark–andtodaytherewasn’tone.
TheyhuggedoncemoreandAliceandPetramovedtoleave,butAliceturnedback.“Oh,MarktoldmeabouttheJuneFrenchseries.Fantastic!”
“Thankyou.”
“You’llloveworkingwithBrock.”
“Yeah?”
“Sweetkid.Communicative,thoughtful,respectful.”SewaneeopenedhermouthandAliceheldupahand,smiling.“No,Idon’tknowwhohereallyis.Buthe’soneofthegoodones.”
Interesting.
Sewaneefinishedhercongratulatoryroundsandthen,wheneveryonehadgonebacktotheirwork,shestartedthedishwasherandleanedonthecounter.Shetookoutherphoneandcomposedane-mail:
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:December17,3:11PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
CongratsonyourAudienomination(s)!Mayyousomehowwinthemboth!
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:December18,5:27AM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Thankyou!I’mhonored.ThoughbeingnominatedtwiceinthesamecategorymeansevenifIwin,Ilose.
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:December18,1:36PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Lol.
I’mplanningtorecordthefirstepisodeaftertheholidays.Ifwedon’tspeak(type?Correspond?)beforethen,Ihopeyouandyourshaveagoodrestoftheyear.Lookingforwardtogettingintothiswithyouinthenewone.
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:December18,1:37PM
Subject:AutomaticReply:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Hello,
Iwon’tbecheckingemailuntilJanuary7.Ihumblyimploreyoutojoinme.
PeaceandloveandNewYear’scountdownkisses,
B
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January7,6:14AM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
HappyNewYear!Hopeyouandyourshadagoodholiday.HaveyoulookedatthenexttwoepisodesJasonsent?You’llbedoingthevoiceofClaire’slatehusbandinaflashbacksection.Canyousendmeasampleofhowyou’redoingit?Ihaveonedialogueexchangewherehe’scondescendingtomeattherehearsaldinnerandIwanttomakesureweareinsync.
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:January7,9:57AM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
HappyNewYeartoyouandyours!Hopeitwasmerryandbright.
I’mthinkinghighandreedy,slightlysniveling.TocontrastwithyourAlessandro,TheUltimateMan?.
Question:Jasonhadmentionedyou’dneverdoneaJuneFrenchbookbefore.So,Iadmit,Ilookedyouupandsurprisinglyit’strue.400audiobooksandnoneJune’s?Curioushowthisprojectfounditswaytoyou.
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January7,4:35PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
YouGoogledme,huh?ThoughtIfeltsomething.
Youknow,it’sinteresting.BeforeJunedied,shereachedoutandtoldmeabouttheprojectandsaidIwastheonlyvoiceshewantedreadingit.So,Ipromisedher.Andhonestly,Iwantedtodoit.Tohonorher.Herlegacy,Iguess.
Onemorethingyoushouldknow:shewasequallyinsistentaboutyou.Ithadtobebothofusorshedidn’twantitdone.JasonandIdecidednottotellyouthatinthebeginning.Wedidn’twantyouaskingforabiggercut.?
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:January7,5:15PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Iwoulddefinitelyhaveaskedforabiggercut.?
That’sactuallyveryheartwarming.Iappreciateyoutellingme.ShewasverygoodtomewhenIwasfirststartingout.Iloveddoingherbooks,eveniftheywereinacategoryIlaterpulledbackfrom.I’msadshe’sgone.Butwewilldorightbyher!
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January7,5:33PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Agreed.
Question:IGoogledyou,too(feelanything?),and75Romancenovelsbutnothinginthelastfiveyears.Curious.Whydidyoustopand,moreimportantly,howcanI?
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:January7,7:48PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Haha.Well,IstartedinRomance,useditasatrainingground.Fulldisclosure:Ineverenjoyedthegenre.OtherthanJuneandafewotherauthorswhowerewonderfulwriters,Ijustdon’tlikeRomance.It’snotmy…thing?Speed?Taste?IthinkI’mtoocynical.Forwhatit’sworth,Idon’tdoFaith-BasedandInspirationaleither.
Bahhumbug.
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January8,10:22AM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Igetit,Scrooge.Trustme.IONLYdoRomance.Andsomedaysyou’rejustnotinthemoodforhappilyeverafter.
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:January8,5:21PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Mostdays.
(ButalsoIdidsometerriblywrittenomegaverse/wolferoticaandthatputmeovertheedge.HereliesSarahWestholme,slainbyherownprudery.)
AlsoFYI,SarahWestholmeisapseudonym,that’swhythereareonly75titlesunderthatname.Irecordotherbooksundermyrealname.
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January9,7:13AM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
AtleastSarahWestholmesoundslikeanactualperson.BrockMcNightsoundslikeapornstar.
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:January9,7:15AM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Well,congrats.Nailedit.
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January9,7:24AM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
IalmostwentwithROCKMcNightbutmightaswellbeStiffMcStuffersonatthatpoint.
Anywaaaaaay,haveyourecordedthefirstepisodeyet?Ifso,canyousend?Iwanttohearyourtone/pacingbeforeIstart.
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:January9,7:35AM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
It’sattached,Stiffy.Haveagreatweekend!
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January12,2:15PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Hopeyourweekendwasgood.
Listenedtothefirstepisode.Ihavetotellyou–maybeIshouldn’ttellyou–no,I’mgoingtotellyou:you’reridiculouslygood.ShadowWalkerswasawhileagoandthatimpressedme.Butthisisexceptional.
Youshouldreadbooksoutloud.Hasanyoneevertoldyouthat?Peoplemightevenpayyou!Somethingtolookinto.
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:January12,9:26PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Thankyou!Thatmeansalot,comingfromyou.
IwasabitconcernedIwasoutofpractice.AnytipsortricksyouhavefornarratingRomancethesedayswouldbewelcomed.
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January13,11:43AM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Iwouldn’tworryaboutperformance.Peoplelistenat3Xspeed.
Kidding.
Kindof.
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January13,11:47AM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Sorry,thatwasglib.Ofcourseyoushouldcareaboutperformance.
Oneofusshould.*cymbalcrash*
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:January14,6:12PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
WhydoyouonlyrecordRomance(ifImayask,obvs)?
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January14,7:31PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Moneyaside(LOLZobviouslyit’sthemoney):
It’sacrashcourseinlearningaboutwomen.AsubjectIhaverepeatedlyflunked.
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:January14,7:38PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
ThatwouldbelikemelearningaboutmenfromnarratingSci-Fi.Tenpagesontheinner-workingsofthespaceship’scommandcenterA.I.?Thatcan’tbetheextentofwhatgoesonintheirheads.
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January14,7:41PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
No,that’sentirelyaccurate.Butpleasehuskyourvoicewhenyouread,“Themainshaftdrivesthedualcondenserintolockdown.”
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:January14,7:44PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Likethis?[voicememoattached]
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January14,7:46PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Oh.My.God.
I’msogladwe’redoingthisprojecttogether.Iknowthisisaboutthemoneyforbothofus,butIcan’thelpfeelinglikemaybeJuneknewsomethingaboutthetwoofusindividuallythat
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January14,7:49PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
DIDNOTMEANTOSENDTHATMYSTUPIDFATFINGERSLIPPEDIWASTRYINGTOERASEALLTHATDRIVELUGHHHHHHH
(Ihavehadafewdrinks.Sorry.Ignoreme.Goingtobednow.)
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:January14,7:56PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Stiffy?Noapologynecessary.
Quickbusinessquestion:HowarewesayingClaire’scompany,Visage?VIZ-idge(liketheactualword)orvi-ZAWzh?
BeniceifwecouldaskJune.
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January15,8:17AM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
You’reagem,Westholme.Truly.You’renotonlytherightvoice,you’retherightpersonforthis.(Hewrote,completelysoberthistime)
Andgoodquestion.ButIdefertoyou,Claire’syourdomain.
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:January15,12:51PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Somuchpressure!Ithinkvi-ZAWzhsoundsmorelikeafakecosmeticscompany.
Andthankyou.That’skindofyoutosay.Iwasthinking,butonlyifyou’recompletelycomfortablewiththis,thatweshouldexchangephonenumbers.Justfortexting.Justforthat.Justincaseanotherpronunciationquestioncomesup.Idon’tcheckemailswhenI’minthebooth.ButonlyifyouareCOMPLETELYCOMFORTABLEwiththis.PleaseknowIwouldneverabusetheprivilege.Iwouldofcoursekeepyournumberconfidential.
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January15,12:51PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Hey,here’smyphonenumber,canIhaveyours?Idon’thaveemailsetupintheboothorI’dnevergetanyrecordingdone,butIdorespondtotexts.Justincasewehavequestionsthatrequireanimmediateresponse.Butonlyifyou’reCOMFORTABLEwiththis.PleasekeepmynumberconfidentialandIwill,ofcourse,dothesame.
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:January15,12:52PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
LOL!Greatminds!
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:January15,12:52PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Whoadidwesendthoseattheexactsametime???
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:January15,12:53PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
YESANDNOWTHESELASTONES,TOO!ACK!STOP!GOODBYE!
***
January19
SEWANEE:
Hi,it’sSarah.Ihavequestions.Manyquestions.
BROCK:
HiSarah,it’sBrock.Ihavemanyanswers.
Ialsohappentohaveaquestion.
SEWANEE:
Youfirst.
BROCK:
AreyoudoingItalianpronunciationsforallpeople/places/things,withRtrills,etc?
SEWANEE:
ofcourrrrrrrrrsuh.Weshouldkeepitauthentic,no?
BROCK:
Rrrrright,weshould,si.
Yourturn.
SEWANEE:
So.Speakingofpronunciations,webothhaveclitoriscomingupandweshouldmakesurewegiveitthesameemphasis.
BROCK:
Please.Continue.
SEWANEE:
Well.MWhastwoacceptablepronunciations:1stisKLIT-ur-us,2ndiskli-TOR-us.
BROCK:
Door#1.Number2soundslikeadinosaur.
SEWANEE:
Agreed.
Can’tyoujustseeol’MerriamandWebsterdebatingthisone?
BROCK:
ThemenwhowrotetheDICK-shun-airy?Absolutely.
Orisitdick-SHUNNERY?
SEWANEE:
That’sjustthetipoftheiceberg.Whataboutareole?
BROCK:
Notsurethat’sthetipofan*iceberg*.
SEWANEE:
Haha.Arewegoingwiththetechnicallycorrectpronunciation,eventhoughI’veneverhearditsaidlikethat?Ever?Aw-REE-oh-luh?
BROCK:
You’veobviouslybeenoutoftheRomancegameforawhile.MWrecentlyaddedair-ee-OH-luhasanofficialaltpronunciation.
SEWANEE:
NO!
BROCK:
Yes.
SEWANEE:
Theymustbeturningoverintheirgraves!
BROCK:
Hopetheydon’tbruisetheirair-ee-OH-luhs.
air-ee-OH-ly?
It’scomplicatedwhenthere’stwoofthem.
SEWANEE:
Ihaveanotherquestion.
BROCK:
Isitabovetheneck?
SEWANEE:
Wayabove.Whyistheskyblue?
BROCK:
ha.
Seriously?
SEWANEE:
Yeah,I’vealwayswondered.
BROCK:
Simple:reflection.
WAITNO.Refraction.
SEWANEE:
Wrong.Particles.*sendslinktoNASAwebsite*
BROCK:
Thatarticleisincorrect.
SEWANEE:
Oh,NASA’sincorrect?
BROCK:
Sarah.Thesepeoplestagedthemoonlanding,forPete’ssake.
Heyhere’saquestion:who’sPete?
SEWANEE:
?
BROCK:
Pete!Pete’ssake.FortheloveofPete.SneakyPete.HonesttoPete.WhotfisPete??
SEWANEE:
…God?
BROCK:
OhmyPete!
***
January21
BROCK:
WhyistheOCEANblue?
SEWANEE:
Well,Brock,it’snotalwaysblue.Itcanalsobegreen,orgray,orothercolorsdependingonhowthelightbounces.Itonlyappearsbluebecausewaterabsorbscolorsintheredpartofthelightspectrumwhichactslikeafilter,leavingbehindcolorsinthebluepartofthespectrum.
BROCK:
*Brando’sGodfathervoice*youcomeintomyhouseonthedaymydaughteristobemarriedandgivemeSCIENCE.
SEWANEE:
Forgiveme,DonCorleone.Thereisnoscienceanymore.FAKENEWS.
BROCK:
ALTERNATIVEFACTS
SEWANEE:
WITCHHUNT
Grazie,Godfather.
BROCK:
Prego.
From:JasonRuiz
To:BrockMcNight;Westholme,Sarah
Date:January23,10:27AM
Subject:Casanova–ep1
Heyyoutwo,
JustwantedtoletyouknowthefirstepislockedanditisDOPE.SOgood.It’sallsettodroponValentine’sDay.Fansarestoked.Thepreordersarethroughtheroof.AsI’dsaid,I’llsendoutpaymentatthebeginningofeachmonth,soyourMarch1depositwillreflecttwoweeksofsalesforepisode1andoneweekofsalesforepisode2.
Sarah,I’llhavepickupstoyouforepisode3tomorrow.
Thanks!
JR
ASSEWANEEPLACEDeightusedmugsinthestudiosink,Damian,anengineerwithdreadsdowntohisass,enteredthekitchen.“HeyD,”shesaid.
“Hey,”hesighed,smilingwearily,andopenedthefridge.Heretrievedamasonjarofhishomemadekombucha.Hetookapullonitasifitwereacoldbeer.
Sheinclinedherheadathim.“Toughday?”
Heshookhisbackathertightly:later.
Justas,intothekitchen,walkedDougCarrey.
Jolted,Sewaneespunbacktothesink.
Notonceinthelasteightyearsandnowtwiceinthelasttwomonths?Why?How?Help.
“So,brothah,weallgood?”DougaskedDamian.
“Allgood,myman,you’refreetogo,”Damianreplied.Dougpulledhimintoabro-yhandshake/backpatcomboandDamiansaid,“Greatjob,”butSewaneeknewhimwellenoughtoknowhedidn’tmeanit.
“Whowouldathunkreadingabookoutloudcouldbesowickedhahd,huh?Evenakids’book!”DamiantookanotherswallowofkombuchaasDougfloatedhisheadaroundthekitchenandlivingroom.“Thishouseissick.Whoownsit?”
“MarkClark.”
Dougsnorted.“Thatpracticallyrhymes.”Itdidrhyme.“Heeverthinkofselling?”
Sewaneekeptherhandsinthesink,hergazedown,doingherbesttodisappear.
“No,”Damiananswered.“Imean,Idon’tthinkso.Notwiththestudioandall.Right,Swan?”
Shit.
Dougangledhisheadtowardthedisappearingactatthesink.“Waaaaitaminute,whatapissah!Swan?!”
Shewipedherhands,turnedaround,facedDougfully.“Ofalltheginjoints,”shedrawled.
“Goddamn!”Dougenthused.“How’dImissthatbacksidethistime?”Helaughed,ofcourse,andSewaneewishedtheycouldgoanothereightyearswithoutthishappeningagain.
“So,uh,yeah,no,”shesaid,steeringhimbacktothetopicofthehouse,“Markwillneversell.”
“Well,mindsaremeanttobechanged.Tellhimtogivemeabell.Ibeenlookin’fahoneoftheseoldplacesinthehillsfahyears.”
Damiantookonemorechugandreturnedthemasonjartothefridge.“Igottagoexportthefiles.Niceworkingwithyou,”helied,andSewaneewantedtotellhimshe’dexportthefilesandcouldhepleasestay,please?ButDamianwasalreadygoneandthenthereweretwo.
DougsmiledwithallhisteethandSewaneesmiledbackwithpressedlips.Nowwhat?
Dougpointedtohiseye.“Stillrockin’thepatch,huh?Damn,howlongyougottakeepiton?”
“Uh.Forever,”shesaid,and,offhisheadtilt,added,“Itwasabadaccident.”
“Oh.”Hisgrinwavered.“That’sbrutal.Ithoughtitwassomethingtemporary…”Thegrinofficiallywentout.“Shit.Andyouweresogood.Imean,I’msureyoustillare.Fuck.I’msosorry.”
Doug’ssincerity,whileperhapsfleeting,remindedSewaneewhyshehadfeltsomelittlesomethingforhimwaybackwhen.Evenifthatsomethinghadbeenjustasfleeting.“Thanks.”
“When’dithappen?”
“Sevenyearsago.”
Hissilencegottoherandshefoundherselfreachingforwords.Anywords.“Didyouenjoyrecording–”
“Don’tgiveup,”hesaidsuddenly.“Thebusinesshaschanged.YouknowwhatI’msayin’?Peoplearemoreopento…youknow.”Hewavedahand.“Diversity.”
Sheknewhemeantdisability,buteitherwayhewasn’twrong.Shehadconsidereditherself.Shestillwantedtoact,sometimessodesperatelyshehadtogoliedownuntiltheyearningpassed.Butsheknewthatdoingsowouldforcehertofacethetruth,oratleasthertruth:shecouldn’treclaimwhosheoncewaswhenwhosheoncewasnolongerexisted.
Afteramomentofgazingather,heclosedthedistancebetweenthemandpulledherintoahug.Itwasn’tsexual,fortunately.Itwasdelicate.Abitcareful.Thewayyoumighthugsomeoneyoufeltsorryfor,butwhoalsomightbecontagious,youweren’tsure.Bettersafethansorry.Still,itwasDoug’sversionoftrying.Ofbeingagoodguy.
Shepulledbackfirst,anythingthatcouldgivehertheillusionofhavingtheupperhand,andglancedatthesink,hopinghe’dsenseshehadtogetbacktowork.
Hedid.Hesteppedfullyback,butsaid,“Hey.Didn’tyouusedtohangwithAdakuObi?”
Shesmiled.“Stilldo.”
Hissmilecameback,too.“Man,sayhifahme.Wekeepmissingeachotheratawardsshit.TellherI’dliketoconnect.”
Sewaneesaid,“Willdo.”ButSewaneethought,Willnot.
Hebackedaway,outofthekitchen.“AndtellMark–Mark?–Iwantthishouse.Serious.Gimmeabell.”Hewinked.“Here’slookingatyou,Kid.”Again,withtheterribleBogartimpression.
Anhourlater,whenthehousechoresweredoneandDamianhadfinishedexporting,Sewaneeletherselfintostudio1tostartrecordingfortheday.Itstillsmelledlikecologne.Hiscologne.Acolognehehadn’tchangedineightyears.
Shesteppedout,turnedupthefaninthebooth,andwentdownthehalltostudio4.Shesatdowninsideandtriedrecording,butshewastrippingovereveryothersentence.Thisonlyhappenedwhenshewastired,PMS-ing,or…justplainbothered.
Shewantedahug.Arealone.
Instead,shepickedupherphone.
SEWANEE:
Question:whathappensafterwedie?
Herespondedimmediately:
Wedon’thavetorecordRomanceanymore.
Shesmiled.
Anothertextappeared:
Unlesswegotohell.Whichisprettylikelytbh.Thenthat’sallwedo.
SEWANEE:
Youreallydon’tlikedoingBrockMcNight,doyou?
BROCK:
WouldYOUlikedoingBrockMcNight??
SEWANEE:
HowDAREyouaskmethat?!
BROCK:
Walkedrightintothatone.
Sewaneepaused,consideringhowtorespond.Herdecisionwasmadeeasierwhenherphonelitupagain.
BROCK:
Youknow,theproblemwithsexualinnuendois…
youcan’tkeepitup.
SEWANEE:
lol
Speakforyourself.Icangoallnight.
BROCK:
Justthoughtyou’dslipthatin?
SEWANEE:
Well.Idon’tliketobeataroundthebush.
BROCK:
MaybeIshouldgodeeperintothis.
SEWANEE:
Oh,it’sabouttogodown.
BROCK:
Wait,Idon’twanttoblowit.
SEWANEE:
You’remakingthistoohard.
BROCK:
Nothardenough.
SEWANEE:
Awww,it’sokay,happenstoeverymanatsomepoint.
BROCK:
Easycome…
SEWANEE:
Don’tbrag.
Sewanee’scheeksachedfromthesmileonherface.Ifsomeonewalkedin,sheknewshe’dappearabsolutelyderanged.Apictureappearedinthechat.AmemeofaGoldenRetrieverholdingagiantfemurinitsmouth.Thecaptionread:WANNABONE?Sheblurtedalaugh,then,realizinghowloudithadbeen,closedtheboothdoor.
SEWANEE:
Nothanks.Ishouldgetoff.
BROCK:
Andscene!
SEWANEE:
Oh,areyoudone?
BROCK:
Almost.Justfinishing.
Shedebatedforhalfasecond.
SEWANEE:
Needahand?
Shewatchedbubblesappear…thenstop.Morebubbles…anotherstop.Whatwashetyping?
Then:
Okay,okay,I’mout,youwin.Serviceace.
SEWANEE:
Andmatch.
BROCK:
Goodvolley.
CanIhavemyballsback?
SEWANEE:
bahahahahaahaha
BROCK:
You.
SEWANEE:
What?
BROCK:
Just.You.
SEWANEEWASINanepiclineatCostcowhenherphonedinged.
BROCK:
Question.Gotasec?
SEWANEE:
No,Idon’tknowwherebabiescomefrom.
BROCK:
Dammit.
Beforepullingoutofherparkingspace,Sewaneetexted:
Stillwaitingforyourquestion.
BROCK:
Stillwaitingtoaskit.
LeaningagainstthereplenishedshelvesinMark’sgarage,Sewaneetexted:
Seriously?
BROCK:
Youknowwhat?Nevermind.
SEWANEE:
ohCOMEON!
BROCK:
Itdoesn’tmatter.
SEWANEE:
Iamneverlettingthisgo,youknowthat,right?
BROCK:
Ughhhh
SEWANEE:
Waiting…
BROCK:
Forgetit.
SEWANEE:
ticktock
BROCK:
It’sjust,Ithoughtitmattered,butnowIthinkitdoesn’t.
SEWANEE:
Cool.Nowtellme.
Shewentinside.Checkedtheapplesupply.Putthekettleon.Refreshedthepretzels.
SEWANEE:
SERIOUSLY??
BROCK:
okokgivemeasecond!!!
PleasetakethisinthespiritwithwhichImeanit.
Iwanttomakesurenobody’sgettinghurt.
Orconfused.
Idon’twantanythingweird.
Betweenus.
Intheend.
SEWANEE:
Nicehaiku.Questionplease.
BROCK:
Blargh.
SEWANEE:
STIFFY!!!!!
Thebubblesstarted,soSewaneeputthephoneonthecounter,grabbedamug,ateabag,promisedherselfshewouldn’tlookatherphoneuntilshehearditding.Betrayedthatpromisethirtysecondslater,feltlikeanidiot,hadjustsetthephonebackdownonthecounterwhenitdingedagain.
BROCK:
It’sjustthis:sincewebegantexting,Ihavegottenconcerned–albeitirrationally(can’tbelieveIusedtheword‘albeit’)–thatmaybeI/you/wewerepossibly,potentially(probably?),crossingaline.
SEWANEE:
And?
BROCK:
And…
IwasthinkingthatIshouldask
You
Ifyou’resingle.
(IfeellikeI’minmiddleschoolforchristsake.)
SEWANEE:
*pete’ssake
BROCK:
ThiswouldbeeasierifPetecouldpassanotewithcheckboxestooneofyourfriendsinstudyhall.
SEWANEE:
SoyouwanttoknowifI’msinglebecause…?
BROCK:
bcuzsomeoneelsecouldbelookingatyourphone!!Youneverknowwho’slookingatyourphone!!
Notthatthere’sanythinginappropriate.
Tooinappropriate.
(fortherecordthisisgoingjustasbadlyasIpredicted)
WhatImeantosayisTHIS:
IwouldneverwantsomebodytothinkIwascomingontohiswoman.
(Orherwoman???)
Againwiththesmilingshecouldn’tseemtocontain.Hisadorableawkwardnesspromptedhertoanswerhimamusingly,butsincerely.Whywasherhandshaking?
SEWANEE:
You’resafe.I’msingle.
Hisnexttextappearedsimultaneously:
IknowIcanbejokeyandflirty.Anditmightbeconfusingtotellwhat’srealandwhat’snot.AmImakinganysenseatall?
Followedinstantlyby:
FMLDon’treadmylasttextPLEASE
Sewanee’sfull-bodylaughsloshedsometeaoutofhercupandontothecounter.Shewipeditupwithhersleeveandquicklytyped:
lolyoukiddingI’mgonnaframeit.
BROCK:
sigh
So…
we’regood?
SEWANEE:
We’regood.
BROCK:
ThankPete.
SEWANEE:
ThankYOU.
***
February14
(OnWhatsApp)
MOM:
Goodlucktoday,Swanling!Today’stheday,right?We’resohappyforyou!
SEWANEE:
Thanks!Yes,firstepisodereleasesinaboutanhour.
MOM:
Ohgoodwedidn’tmissit.Stuwantstosaysomething.
Imeantypesomething.
SEWANEE:
Okay.
Goahead,Stu.
Icanseethatyoustoppedtyping.Didyoupresssend?
Stu?
MOM:
Thesebuttonsaretoodamnsmall.
SEWANEE:
Agreed.
MOM:
ButthatwasnotwhatIwantedtosay.
SEWANEE:
Okay.
MOM:
Waityourmotherwantstoknowifyouaregoingtosendustheepisode.
SEWANEE:
No.
MOM:
Yes!Pleasesend.ThisisMomagain.
SEWANEE:
NOIamnotsending.
MOM:
Canwedownloadit?
SEWANEE:
NOnodownloading.
MOM:
Butwewanttohearit!
SEWANEE:
NOyoudonot.Trustme.
MOM:
Wearehappytopayforit.ThisisStu
SEWANEE:
Youarenotallowedtolistentoit.Okay?Irecord50booksayearyoucouldlistentothataren’tRomance.
Momtellmeyouunderstandyouarenotallowedtolistentoit.
MOM:
We’llsee.Love,Mom.
ThisiswhatIwantedtosay.Wesawdolphins.Weweredocked.Camerightuptous.DidtheEE-EE-EErighttous.
Ohthisisme.
Stu.
SEWANEE:
Wow!Howcool!
MOM:
Itwastalkingjusttous.
SEWANEE:
I’msureitwas.?
MOM:
WishyouwereherewithusSwanling,fromMom.
SEWANEE:
Oneofthesedays.
MOM:
Youbetteryounglady.Donotmakemecomegetyou.IwouldputasmileyfaceherebutIdonotknowhowto.ThisisStu.Byenow.LOL.Stu.
SEWANEE:
Bye!
MOM:
It’sMom.HethinksLOLmeanslotsoflove.
SEWANEE:
Well,LOLback.
MOM:
Missyou,darlingestofdaughters.
SEWANEE:
Missyou.Somuch.?
From:AliceDunlop
To:SewaneeChester
Date:February15,10:27AM
Subject:Audiespresenting?
Heyhon,
HelpingtoorganizepresentersfortheAudiesandwonderingifyou’dhaveanydesiretopresenttheLifetimeAchievementAward(posthumously?)toJuneFrench?Thepublicdoesn’thavetoknowyourconnection,butIthinkitwouldbeanicewinkwinknodnodfortheindustry.Whatdoyathink?
Hugs,
Alice
P.S.HaveyouseentheFacebookgroups?EveryoneislosingtheirmindsoverCasanova,LLC.I’veneverseenanythinglikeit.Brava!
From:SewaneeChester
To:AliceDunlop
Date:February15,11:06AM
Subject:RE:Audiespresenting?
IwouldLOVEto.Thankyousomuchforasking.
Andno,haven’tdippedintoFB.Willdosonow.
From:SewaneeChester
To:AliceDunlop
Date:February15,11:38AM
Subject:RE:Audiespresenting?
OH.MY.GODDDDDDDD.
SEWANEE:
HeyareyouonFacebook?
BROCK:
Hellno.
Why?
SEWANEE:
Fansarelovingthefirstepisode.Like,alot.
BROCK:
Nice.
SEWANEE:
Like,alotalot.
Ithinkthismightendupbeinghuge.
BROCK:
SEWANEE:
That’sit?
BROCK:
DidyouknowtherealCasanovawasaterriblehuman?Horrible.Actualcriminal.Didtime.Rapist.Evenknockeduphisowndaughter.
SEWANEE:
“Andnow,Children,StoryTimewithBrockMcNight”
BROCK:
heh.Sorry.I’mhappyforus,Iam.
SEWANEE:
Youjustdon’tcare?
BROCK:
No,Ido,I’mjust…
IDK.
SEWANEE:
You’recheckedout.
Ofaudio.
OfRomance.
BROCK:
Iguessso?
I’msorry.Youdeserveabetterpartner.
SEWANEE:
It’sokay.Really.Likeatrophywife,Iwillconsolemyselfwiththepilesofmoneyyoubroughttothemarriage.
BROCK:
deal.
***
February22
SEWANEE:
Question.
BROCK:
Sorry,wrongnumber,thisisn’tQuestion.
SEWANEE:
groaaaaaaaan
BROCK:
Deepestapologies,thatwastrulyhorridDadhumor.
SEWANEE:
So,notjudging,butwhatdowethinkofthishero?
BROCK:
…?
SEWANEE:
I’mhavingtroubledecidingifAlessandro’scomplicated.Orjustanasshole.
BROCK:
He’sanalpha.
SEWANEE:
riiiiightbut
BROCK:
Heonlycaresabouthisart.Relationshipsaretransactionalforhim.
SEWANEE:
Yes,most.Withalltheothers,butnotwithher.Whenshegetswhatshecamefor(nopunintended)she’spreparedtohonortheiragreement.Hethentreatsherterribly(which,okay,typicalRomanceHerohavinghisFeels),butwhy?
BROCK:
IDK
SEWANEE:
Well,howareyougoingtoplayit?
BROCK:
Whatdoyoumean?
SEWANEE:
Ishereallythatoblivioustowhathewantsorisheprotectinghimselffromgoingafterwhathewantsincasehecan’thaveit?
BROCK:
Whatdoyoumean?
SEWANEE:
Imeeeaaan,whyishe?
BROCK:
*who?
SEWANEE:
No,why.Youcan’tjustlookatwhosomeoneis.YouhavetolookatWHYsomeoneis.Surfaceversussubstance.That’sthedifferencebetweencaricatureandcharacter.
BROCK:
Ijustfiguredoutwhyyou’reabetternarratorthanme.You’reanactress,aren’tyou?
SEWANEE:
Was.
BROCK:
Why’dyoustop?
SEWANEE:
Mmmmmstoryforanothertime.
BROCK:
I’llholdyoutothat.
WhatdoYOUthinkAlessandro’s“why”is?
SEWANEE:
offthetopofmyhead…
Ithinkhe’stiredofbeingseenasthissexgod.Ithinkhe’sdesperatetoendtheperformance,butwhoishewithoutit?Whowouldwanthim,therealAlessandro,whenallthewomenhehaseverknownonlyseemtowantthefantasy?Allexcepther.Shewantedsomethingnooneelsesawinhim:theperson,notthecommodity(representedbyhowshefallsinlovewithhisart,i.e.hissoul,i.e.histruth).
SoIerronthesideofhe’snotoblivious,he’sscared.Becausehe’sfallinginlovewithher.So:attraction=fear=self-protection=assholery.
BROCK:
Yeahthat’stotallywhatIwasgoingtosay.
That’sgood.
That’sReallyGood.
MindifIstealit?
SEWANEE:
It’syou.
*yours
SEWANEEWASNAMEDafterhergrandmother’shometown.Everyonewho’dbeeninvolvedinthedecisionhadlikedit.Itwaspossiblytheonlythingtheyagreedon,ifforcompletelydifferentreasons.Elegant,hergrandmotherhadsaid.Magical,hermotherhadsaid.Allegorical,herfatherhadsaid.
Sewaneehadwantedtoliveuptoallofit.
Buthernamedidnotendearhertohergrandmother.Notatfirst.
Itwasn’tpersonal.BarbaraChesterhadnevershownmuchinterestinchildren,andshe’dhadnouseforSewaneeuntilshewasoldenoughtohaveaconversationandnotrunmindlesslybacktoHenryandrepeatit.ButbythetimeSewaneewaseightornine,they’ddiscoveredwhatwasmissingfrombothoftheirlives:eachother.
Onschoolholidaysorweekendsorsummerworkdays,MarilynwoulddriveupBeverlyGlenandpulloveronMulholland,whereSewaneewouldgetintoBlah’swaitingcarandthey’ddrivedowntheothersideofthehilltoBitsy’shouse.They’dwatcholdmoviesintheshaggedlivingroomandSewaneesoakeditallup,kneweverylinefromThePhiladelphiaStory,everystepof“Make’EmLaugh”fromSingin’intheRain,everyheadtiltfromLaurenBacall.
Attheheightoftheday,they’dgoouttothegreen-tingedpoolandBlahwouldteachherhowtoswim,tellingherthecombinationofswimminganddancingwouldgivehereverythingshe’dneedtomaintainheryet-to-appearfigure.Atsomepoint,Blahwouldsay,“Isupposeyourparentsexpectmetofeedyou,”andthey’dglideintothekitchenandBlahwouldforageforsomething,anything,thatconstitutedfood.UsuallyRitzcrackersorappleslices.AlwaysMallomars.SometimesBitsywouldstopbybetweenherlunchanddinnershiftatDu-parsandbringthempancakes,whichSewaneeloved,butherrealappetitewaselsewhere.
Onemoredancestep;rewatchaHepburn/Tracyfilmandtalkabout“chemistry”;gothroughBetteDavis’sentireoeuvre.
BythetimeSewaneewasinmiddleschool,theywoulddrivearoundtheValleyinBlah’sOldsmobileconvertibleandgoconsignmentshoppingonVenturaBoulevard.They’dsweepdowntheracks,pullinganythingremotelyintriguing.WhenSewaneewouldsay,“Ilikethis,whatdoyouthink?”Blahwouldrespond,“Ithinkyou’reaknockout,Doll.”
ThiswaswhenSewaneebegansensingwhatitmightbeliketobeSewanee.Shewouldshowupatschoolinjeans,T-shirts,flip-flops,andponytails,buteveryHomecomingorSnowBallorPromshewasdeckedoutinimpeccablytailoredvintageandmakeup,lookingaboutadecadeolderthanshewas.
Itwasatoneofthesedancesherjunioryearwhenaclassmate’sfather,atelevisionproducer,askedifshehadanyinterestinacting.Shesaiditwasallshewantedtodo.Whatshedidn’ttellhimwasthatherparentshadtoldhershecouldn’tuntilshewaseighteen.TheylivedinLosAngeles,afterall,theyknewthehorrorstories.Sowhentheproduceraskedhertoauditionforhisnewshow,shedidsowithouttellingherparents.Becauseshewassureshewouldn’tgetit.Shejustwantedtotestherselfout.Likeafirstdate.
Sowhensheinevitablygottheroleandwasforcedtotellthem,theysaidno,ofcourseshecouldn’ttakethepart,hadn’ttheydiscussedthis?
But,but,but!
Theyfought,theirfirstrealteenagerknock-downdrag-out,andSewaneeslammedthefrontdoor,gotintoherrattletrapJetta,andsteamedoverthehilltoBitsy’s.
SheandBlahhadsatoutbythepoolinthewarmOctobereveningwhileSewaneesobbed,hurlinginvectivesatherparents.BlahcalmlysippedhermartiniandwaitedforSewaneetobreathe.Thenshehandedherthelastgulpofherdrink,whichSewaneeimmediatelythrewbackandjustasimmediatelynearlythrewup,makingafaceonlyalemoncouldlove.Theybothlaughed;Blah’saimallalong.
Shereachedintothepocketofherquilteddressinggown,pulledoutalighterandthesilvercigarettecaseheragenthadgivenherin’58.Itwasinscribedontheback,“To:Agreatpairofget-awaysticks.Maytheytakeyouwhereyouwanttogo.”Shetappedoutacigarette,litit,smokedancinginthepoollights.
SewaneehadheardthestoryofhowBlahhadbeendiscoveredmanytimesovertheyears,butlikeallofBlah’sstories,newlayerswereaddedasSewaneegotolder.
“BitsyandIhadmovedtoNashvilleforwork.WewerecocktailwaitressesatadiveinPrinter’sAlley.Andoneday,amanwalkedin.”MostofBlah’sstoriesincludedtheline:amanwalkedin.
“Theywerelocationscoutingforahonky-tonkinNashville.Bigdealatthetime,goingonlocationinsteadofmakingasoundstageinHollywoodlooklikeahonky-tonk.So,Isaunteredup,talkedhimintostayingforadrinkandintousingourbartoshootin.Hecamebacktwomonthslatertofilm,andIwentfrombeingawaitress-in-lifetoawaitress-in-a-movie.Isavedmytips,gotonabus,andwhenIgottoHollywood,Itelephonedhim.Hegotmearoomatagoodboardinghouse.HegotmeacoatcheckjobatMussoandFrank.Hegotmemyfirstagent.Andallhegotwasmyvirginity.”
Sewanee’smouthdroppedopen,butBlahwavedoffhershock.“Hewasalooker.Anditwastimetogetridofitanyway.”
“But…”Sewaneesputtered.“Heusedyou!”
Blahraisedaneyebrow.“Didhe?Twopeoplecanuseeachother,youknow.”
Shebarelydaredask.“Grandpa?”
Blahshookherhead.“Hewaslater.Hewaslove.HewasaplaywrightoutofNewYorkandhethoughtIwasinteresting.Imaginethat.
“WhatI’msaying,Dollface,isIneversleptwithanyoneIdidn’twanttosleepwith.Ialwayshadareason.Wasitright?Wasitwrong?Whothehellknows.You’veseenmoviesaboutthattime.Peoplewritetheirlittletell-allsnow.Castingcouches,randydirectors,liftedskirtsagainstadressingroomdoor.”Shescoffed,tookadrag.“I’mnotsayingthat’snothowitwasforsomegals.AndI’msorryifthat’showitwas.Butforme,itwasthree-martinilunchesandbonfiresinMalibuthatlasteduntilthesuncameupand‘mywifeisvisitinghersisterfortheweekend,youeverbeentoCatalina?’Reciprocal,youunderstand?”
“Butyouwantedtobeanactressandtheyexploitedthat.”
Blahcackledandashedhercigarette.“Ididn’twanttobeanactress.Iwantedtobefamous.”
“Butyouworked?”
“ButIwasn’tgood!Shit’ssake,Icouldn’tactmywayoutofawetpaperbag.Mychoicewas,IcouldbeinitthewayIwas,oroutofitbecauseofwhatIwasn’t.”ShepointedhercigaretteatSewanee.“AndDoll,Icanseeonyourfacethatwon’tworkforyou.”
Shetookafinaldragandsnuffedit.“Youwantmetotakeyoursideandrailatyourparentsbut–muchasitpainsme,andLordknowsitdoes–they’reright.This?Whoyouarenowandwhatyou’rebeingoffered?Ishowthingsendbadly.”
Sewaneestampedherfoot,everyinchthechildshedidn’tthinkshewas.“SowhatamIsupposedtodo?”
Blahleanedback,wrappedherhandsaroundtheframeofthelounger,crossedherlegs.“WhatIneverdid.Getgood.Sogoddamngoodtheycan’ttellyoushit.”
Blah’slackoftalenthadneverpreventedherfromunderstandinghowitmanifestedinothers.ShehelpedSewaneedevelopemotionalaccessibility,acommandofwordsandlanguage,abodythatmovedfreely,effortlessly,sensuallythroughspace.Shesetaboutmakinghergranddaughterher,butbetter.AndwhenSewaneeappliedtoJulliardandgotin?ItwasthegreatestaccomplishmentofBarbaraChester’slife.
AndbythetimeSewaneegraduated,shehadBlah’sstarquality,Marilyn’sinnategoodness,Henry’sanalyticalskills,Julliardtraining,andfouryearsofNewYorkspitshineonher.Shewasunstoppable.
Untilshewasn’t.
***
February25
BROCK:
Beenthinkingaboutourconvotheothernight.Iwantyoutoknow:I’mnotanactor.EverythingyousaidaboutAlessandromadesomuchsense.Ineverthinkaboutstufflikethat.
SEWANEE:
Howdidyougetintoaudiobooksifyou’renotanactor?
BROCK:
someonelikedmyvoice.
SEWANEE:
Itisagoodvoice.
BROCK:
IoncecalledtheDMVandtherepresentativesaid,“IlovedthewayyousaidyourVINnumber.Wouldyouminddoingitagainalittleslower?”
SEWANEE:
Hahaappreciatewhatyouhave,myfriend.
BROCK:
Ido.I’dbelostwithoutit.
HeyAMIyourfriend?
SEWANEE:
Figureofspeech.
BROCK:
Ouch.
SEWANEE:
JKit’snotthatwe’renotnotfriends.
Ooof,toomanynots.
We.Are.Friends.Nonots.
Ihatetexting.
BROCK:
Iheardthey’retestinganewinvention.Callingitatellingphoneorsomethinglikethat.They’resayingwe’llactuallybeabletotalktoeachotherthroughthisheretypingbox!Science!
SEWANEE:
FAKENEWS
Elevenminuteslater:
SEWANEE:
Whatdidyoudobeforeyouwereanarrator?
BROCK:
Mmmmmmstoryforanothertime.
Sewaneemadeherselfwaituntilshewasdonefortheday,stilldrippingfromtherainthathadbeenlashingduringherclimbbackuptothecasita,totext:
OKAYIT’SANOTHERTIME!
BROCK:
IsthisMYAnotherTimeorYOURAnotherTime?
SEWANEE:
Nicetry.You’reup.
BROCK:
Kjustletmewrapupthischapter.
Maybemakemyselfadrinkfirst.
SEWANEE:
OohI’lljoinyou!
BROCK:
Youawine-spritzerladyorawhisky-neatwoman?
SEWANEE:
Depends.WhatkindofstoryamIsettlinginfor?
BROCK:
Ataleofenduringfriendshipinthefaceofdasheddreams.
SEWANEE:
I’mbreakingoutthetequila.
BROCK:
Olé
57minuteslater:
BROCK:
Tequilaready?
SEWANEE:
TurnsoutIonlyhavealittlecheapvodkainthebackofmyfreezer.
BROCK:
Onlyalittle?
SEWANEE:
It’salittlefreezer.
Whatareyoudrinking?
BROCK:
Beer.
SEWANEE:
LOSER
BROCK:
Andyoudon’tevenknowthestoryyet.
SEWANEE:
I’llgetmylittlevodkawhileyoutype.
BROCK:
Ok,heregoes.
Iwasinaband.Wewerekillingit.Wehadarecorddeal.Wewereontour.Wewereyoungandfearlessandhadnothingtolose.Longstoryshort,theleadsinger,mybestfriend,flamedout.Drugs.
SEWANEE:
Wow.I’msorry.
BROCK:
Sotypicalit’sembarrassinginhindsight.
SEWANEE:
Didyoutryasolocareer?
BROCK:
No.Hewasthemusicalgenius.Ijustwritealittle,playalittleguitar,andsingalittle.
That’smyM.O.:doalotofthingsalittle.
SEWANEE:
Youandmyfreezer.
How’syourfriendnow?Orshouldn’tIask?
BROCK:
That’sthesilverlining.He’ssober.Hasbeenforfiveyears.
SEWANEE:
That’sgreat!
BROCK:
Itis.Fewmonthsagowestartedplayingtogetheragain.Toseeiftherewasanythingleft.
SEWANEE:
Wasthere?
BROCK:
Hewantstotakeanothershot.
SEWANEE:
Andyou?
BROCK:
IDK
SEWANEE:
Areyouafraidhe’llrelapse?
BROCK:
He’snottheproblem.
SEWANEE:
?
BROCK:
I’mnotafraidforhimspecifically.I’mjustafraid.
SEWANEE:
Ofwhat?
BROCK:
Sigh.Howmuchtimeyagot?
SEWANEE:
Aboutafinger’sworthofvodka.
BROCK:
Iwasafearlessboywhobecameafearfulman.
There.Nostrovia.
SEWANEE:
EnnnhhhIdon’tshootvodka.Ifyouwantmetofinishthis,I’mgoingtoneedalittlemorethanthat.
BROCK:
K.I’llskiptotheend.
Whentheworld’syouroyster?Andyougobbleitup?There’snothingworsethangettingfoodpoisoning.Justthesightofoneafterthatmakesyousick.
(IpromiseI’mabettersongwriterthanthisanalogywouldsuggest)
SEWANEE:
Butifyouneveropenanotheroyster,you’llmissthepearls.
BROCK:
Yeah.Well.
Fortherecord,Ihatetalkingaboutthis.
SEWANEE:
BrbgonnagopostonFacebookthatBrockMcNightisafraidofeatingoysters.
BROCK:
Iwillcompletelyunderstandifyouneverwanttotalktomeagain.
SEWANEE:
RUkidding?I’mmakingpopcorn.
BROCK:
Okay,enoughaboutme.What’syourAnotherTime?
Sewaneesatbackandsippedhervodka.Howwouldsheevenbegin?Wasshereadytotellherstory?Toopenherselfuplikethat?
Maybeshecouldatleastaddressthefear.Tellhimsheknewsomethingaboutlifegettingpulledoutfromunderyou.Maybeusetheawfuloystermetaphor.Atleastlethimknowhowmuchsheunderstoodhisstruggle.Talkstraight,oneruinationtoanother.
Butshedidn’twantto.
Shewantedtotalkaboutsongwritingandvodkaandsexualinnuendos.
Andwherehelived.
Andhowoldhewas.
Andwhathedidforfun.
Anddidhehavehair?
Washetall?Hesoundedlarge,butnotnecessarilytall.Whichwasfine.Shedidn’tcare.Whywouldshe?Whowasshetocareaboutsuchthings?
Itwasnovel,havingthisstrongaconnectionwithsomeoneshe’dneverseen.Who’dneverseenher.Thenagain,maybethat’swhatmadeitpossible.Wouldseeingeachother,meetingeachotherfacetoface,fracturetherelationshipthey’dbuilt?Hewouldprobablysayalittlerelationshipwassaferandhe’dberight.
Whichwaswhy,sherealized,shecouldidentifywithBrockmuchmorethanwithsomeonelikeNick.
Nick.
Themanwhoalwayswent’roundthebend,whowouldlookintothewellevenifitmeantcrushingdisappointment.Nickwaswhoshewishedshewere;Brockwasmuchclosertowhosheactuallywas
Itwasasifshehadbeenstaringatapaintingandforeground-Nickandbackground-Brockhadswitched.Whenhadthathappened?
Herphonelitup.
BROCK:
You’renotliterallymakingpopcorn?
SEWANEE:
Hano,sorry.Thinkingaboutaworthyanswer.
BROCK:
Takeyourtime.Itookmine.
Actually,no.Itotallyforgot.Ihaverehearsal.
SEWANEE:
Oh!
BROCK:
I’msosorry.
SEWANEE:
No,noit’sokay!Trustme.
BROCK:
Godmybrainthesedays!
SEWANEE:
NolistenIdodgedabullethere.
BROCK:
Grrr.Idon’twanttoleavethis.It’simportant.
SEWANEE:
No,yourrehearsalisimportant.It’snotlikeyouwantedtoknowwhygrassisgreen.Mystorycanwait.
BROCK:
Iknowthatone!Chlorophyll!TBC!
FRIDAY.HAPPYHOUR.Seasons.
Sewaneesignedinatthefrontdesk,asshedidalmosteveryFriday.Butthistime,Adakujoinedher.
Adakuwasinself-imposedlockdownasshetrainedfortheLysistrata-in-the-junglemovie(whichwastitledTheOriginator,forreasonsSewaneedidnotunderstand),andwhenshe’dtextedlastnightINEEDTOGETOUTOFMYHOUSE,SewaneehadsuggestedshejoinheratSeasonsandtheycouldhavedinnerafter.
TheyheadedtoBlah’sroomtorouseher.“Tenbuckssaysshe’llbeontheleftsideofthecouch,twopillowsbehindher,headphonesonherhead,anaudiobookplaying,fastasleep.”TheywerechucklingastheyenteredBlah’sroomandfoundherexactlyasSewaneehadpredicted.
Sheopenedhereyes,instinctivelysensingtheirpresence.“Dollface!Whatareyoudoinghere?Andwhoisthis?”
“Blah,I’mAdaku.Idon’tknowifyourememberme,butI–”
“OfcourseIrememberyou!Whocouldforgetthatsmile?”
AdakubentovertogiveBlahahug.“It’ssogreattoseeyouagain.”
Sewaneecouldn’tbesurewhetherBlahrecognizedAdakuornot,butshesupposeditdidn’tmatter.“It’sFriday!”Shefinger-combedthehaironthebackofBlah’shead.“Whatdoyousaywegetourselvestogetherandheaddowntohappyhour?”
“Whatarewewaitingfor?Handmemylipstick,Doll.”ShedidandBlahappliedit–flawlessly,withoutamirror–whiletellingAdaku,“Don’tgoanywherewithoutyourlips.Youneverknowwhoyou’llruninto.Orkiss,forthatmatter.”
Whentheywentdownstairs,Adakumovedtowardacornertableinthehalf-filledlounge,butBlahsaid,“Thebar,hon.Stools.Showsoffthegams.”Sotheycommandeeredthreeofthefourstoolsandorderedmartinis,Adakuunhappilyabstainingforthesakeofherregimen.Blahcrossedherlegsandrananeleganthandalongherthighasifstraighteningagown’shighslitinsteadofsmoothingthebeigepolyesterofherelastic-waistedpants.
“Twomartinis,onedirtywithextraolives,justthewayyoulikeit,Blah,”theorderly-cum-bartendersaid,pushingtheirglassestowardthem.
“Thanks,Dan,”Sewaneereplied,slidingthespecialonetohergrandmother.“Blah,Dangaveyouthreeolives.It’snormallytwo.Somethingyouwanttotellme?”
“That’sbetweenmeandDan,”Blahsimpered.Shesaucilyslidoneoffthetoothpick,thenwinked.“That’swhytheextraone.”SheturnedtoAdaku.“Ihopeyou’retakingnotes.”
Adakulaughed.“Always.”
Sewaneetooktheopportunity,whileBlahwassippingherdrinkto,onceagain,reinforcetheimpendingmovetomemorycare.“So,Iwasthinking,whenitcomestimetomovetoyournewroom,I’llbringoversomerollersuitcasesandmakeiteasy.”She’dbeenrepeatingthiseverytimetheytalkedforthelasttwomonths,butshewasn’tsureithadstuck.Or,ifithad,ifBlahcompletelyunderstoodtheimplications.
Blahmerelynoddedandsippedhermartini.“Whateveryouwant,Doll.”ShejerkedherchinatDan.“Let’sgetPopeyeheretohelp.Helooksmorethancapable.”
Dansmiled.“Whereareyoumovingto,Blah?”
Blah’ssmilefroze.SheglancedatSewanee.“WhereamImoving?”
“Justtoanotherwing,”Sewaneeanswered,smilingatDan,infusinghervoicewithcalmforBlah’ssake.“She’llstillbehereeveryFridaysokeepthoseolivesstocked.”
ThisseemedtomollifyBlah,whoraisedherglasstoherlipsandlookedoutintotheroom,casingthedoor,asifthiswerethebarattheRooseveltHotelandGregoryPeckmightwalkin.
Hedidn’t,butMitzidid.
WhenMitzienteredaroom,orangeprecededher.Orangelipstick,orangefright-wig-lookinghair,eventhetennisballsonthefeetofherwalkerwereelectricorange.Allgracefullywrappedinaleopard-printstole.Noneofit,however,wasmeanttooutshinetheenthusiasticallyappliedblueeyeshadowthatwentallthewayuptoherdrawn-oneyebrows.Itwasaboutbalance,yousee.
“Lookwhocametovisit!”Mitzi’svoicewasahandsawcuttinga2×4.
“Mitzi.Sogoodtoseeyou.”SewaneeleanedintoAdakuandmurmured,“Iapologizeinadvance.”
“Ooh,noted,”Adakuwhisperedback,grinning.
Mitzididherbesttoclimbontothebarstoolnexttoher.“Whyarethesegoddamnthingssotall?Andwhoareyou?”shegroused.Loudly.
Blahwinced,rolledhereyesatthegirls,andsaid,“Mitzi.Turnyourhearingaidsdown.You’reshouting.”
“What?”sheshouted.
“Yourhearingaids!You’reshouting!”
“Youdon’thavetoshout!”
MitziadjustedherhearingaidsasDansaid,“WhatcanIgetya,Mitzi?”
“Twocentsplain,I’moffthesauce.”Hervolumedecreasedtoanacceptablelevel.SheturnedtoAdaku.“So,mysterywoman.Nu?”
“I’mSewanee’sfriend,Adaku.”
“AdaWho?Whatisthat?”
“Nigerian.Igbo.”
“IgWhat?”
SewaneecaughtAdaku’seye,mouthed:“Apologizing.”
Adakuwavedheroffandanswered,gamely,“It’sanethnicgroupin–”
ButMitzi’sattention–short-livedatbest–divertedtotheglassDanputinfrontofher.“What’swiththefruit?Twocentsplainistwocentsplain.Youshouldbartendinjail.”SheliftedthelimewedgefromherglassandputittothoseDay-Glolips.
BlahleanedovertolookatMitziasthoughtheyweretwooldminersdownthepubafteralongdayintheshafts.“Youusuallygeta7and7.”
“Yourememberherdrink?”Sewaneeexclaimed.
Blahshrugged.“Idon’tknowwhattotellyou.”BacktoMitzi.“Whythechange?”
Mitzisetherglassdown.“What,Ishouldpublishitinanewspaper?”
SewaneefeltAdaku’sfingersclawintoherforearm,herbreathhotinherear,thegiggleinhervoice.“I’mneverleaving.”
“Justwait,”Sewaneewhisperedback,thenfedthefire:“Hey,Mitzi!How’sthehip?”
“Terrible.Thisonegetsbetter,thisonegetsworse.”Sheslappedherleftthighandthenherright.“Theonlygoodthingaboutgettingoldisnothing.ButIdon’tcomplain.”Shewenttotakeanothersip,founditempty.“Goddammit.”
Dansmiled.“’Nother?”
“WhatamI,acamel?”
“Hellooooo!”
AllfourwomenturnedtoseeBirdie,aMidwesternMrs.Claus–lookingwomaninaChampionsweatshirtwithWestieappliquesonit.“Arewehavingaparty?”
“Oh,Christ,”BlahandMitzisaidinunison,turningbacktothebar.
Birdiesteppeduptothem.“IfI’dknownwewerehavingaparty,Iwouldhavebroughtdip.”
“Notthedip!”Mitzibarked.
BirdieleanedintoAdaku.“Idon’tthinkwe’vehadthepleasure.I’mBertha,buteveryonecallsmeBirdie.”
Sewaneecutheroffatthepass.“Thisismybestfriend,Adaku,buteveryonecallsherA.”
“Youcouldn’thavetoldmethat?”Mitzi,again,barked.
“Howlovely!”Birdiechirped.“Webothhavenicknames!”
“Yes,lovely,”Adakuconcurred.
BirdieturnedherattentiontoSewanee.“Andhow’smydearSwan?”
“Youalwaysremembermyname,Birdie.”
“Well!Asthesayinggoes,‘birdsofafeather’…dosomething.”
Blahwasgazingdownatthebar.“Dan,weneedarefill.”Sewaneeclockedherhalf-drunkmartini.“Andpleaseremembertheolivesthistime.”
“Surething,Blah.”Dantooktheglasswithoutcomment.“Birdie?WhatcanIgetyou?”
“Oh,youknowme,I’mateetotaler.Butsincewe’rehavingaparty!Vodka,rocks,twist.”
“Comingrightup.”
Birdietappedthebar.“Dagburnit,IwishI’dbroughtmydip.”
“Birdie,whydon’tyoutellAaboutyourdip?”Sewaneesuggested,towhichBlahandMitzicried,“Oh,Christ!”
Birdiehadblueeyesthatwerewideanddim,though–ifSewaneewerebeingcruellyhonest–perhapsnodimmerthanthey’dbeenherentirelife.ShelookedatAdakunowwiththosefathomless-lakeeyesandsaid,“Wouldyoulikethat?”andAdakuwastoast.
“Please!”
“Well.You’llneedsourcream.Agood-sizedtubofit.”
“Okay.”
“Youmightwanttowritethisdown,honey.Youwouldn’twanttoforgetsomething.”
“Ofcourse,goodidea.”Adakusmiled,pullingoutherphoneandgoingtohernotesapp.“Ready!”
“WherewasI?”
“Agood-sizedtubofsourcream.”
“Yes!Now,youdon’twantoneofthehugetubs,mindyou,becausethentheratiogetsthrownoff.Justagood,normaltub.Nextcomesthetacoseasoning.YoucanfindthatintheMexicanaisle.Idon’tmeantooffendyou.”
Adakucameupfromherphone.“WhywouldIbeoffended?”
“Idon’tthinkI’msupposedtosayMexicananymore.Mydaughteristryingtohelpmebemoreappropriate.Butwhat’swrongwithbeingaMexicananything?Evenseasoning?”
AdakupattedBirdie’shand.“Nothing.”
Birdieraisedherotherhandtoherchestandexhaled.“Phew.”Thenshepaused.“WherewasI?”
“Tacoseasoning.”
“Yes!TheMexicoaisle.You’regoingtowanttolookforasmallpackageaboutthisbigandit’sgoingtosay:Taco.Seasoning.”ShewatchedAdakutypethiswhileDandeliveredthefreshdrinks.
HepointedatMitzi’semptyglass.“Yousure?”
MitzitalkedrightoverBirdie’slecture.“JackandCoke.”
Blahsaid,“Ithoughtyouweren’tdrinking?”
Mitzigaveaneye-rollingnodinBirdie’sdirection.“Thatwasbeforethedipshowedup.”
BirdieheardMitziandstoppedherrecital.“Doyouwanttherecipe,Mitzi?”
“Oh,Christ.”
“Now,thepackagetellsyoutoputitingroundbeef,butdon’t.No…ground…beef.”
“No…ground…beef,”Adakuparroted.
“You’lltakethesourcreamandputitintoabowl.ThenyoutakethepacketofMexicanseasoningandyouopenit.Thenyousprinkleitintothesourcreamandyoustir.Sprinkleit!Ifyoupouritallinatonce,you’llgetthosegarshdanglumps.Believeyoume!”Shelaughed.“Sprinkle.Stir.Sprinkle.Stir.”
“Doyoumixitclockwise?”Sewaneeasked.
Mitzishouted,“Shootme!”thenpointedatherglassandsaid,again,toDan,“Youshouldbartendinjail.Morerum.”
“YoumeanJack?”
“WhatamI,yourmanager?Idon’tcarehowyoumakeit.”
Birdiewaslookingdownatthebar,engagedwithanimaginarybowl.Sheplacedherhandaboveitandmovedfirstclockwise,thencounterclockwise.Shepaused.Diditagain.ThenshelookedupatSewanee,satisfied.“Yes!”
“Andwhatelsedoyouputinit,Birdie?”Adakuasked.
“Oh,nothing,”Birdiesaid,eyesbugging.“Well,Isupposeyoucouldaddatouchofsalt,butIwouldn’triskit.Myhusband,Jerry,lovesit.Andtheboyscan’tgetenough.Theywon’twatchagamewithoutit.”SewaneewasprettysureBirdie’shusbandhadpassedaway,thatthat’showsheendedupatSeasons.Herdaughterwasanexecutiveatoneofthestudiosandshebroughtheroutheretobecloser.PluckedoutofMichigan,condemnedtospendtherestofherdayswithHollywoodbarracudaslikeMitziandBlah.
Asilencefelloverthem.
SewaneewatchedAdakufeelthesilence.Adifferentkindofsilencethantheywereusedtowiththeirfriends.Withtheirfriends,agroupsilencefeltasiftheywereallbusypaddlingacanoetoanagreed-upondestination.Here,itwasmorelikebeingsetadrift.
Birdiebrokein,pickingupapaddle.“Mitzi,what’syourhusband’sname?”
Mitzihacked.“Whichone?”ShetookaslugofherJackandCokethenlookedatDan.“Whatthehellisinthis?”
BirdienowlookedtoBlah,whowasstaringatthebar.“Doyouhaveahusband?”
Blahliftedhereyes.Andhernewglass.“No.”
“Oh.Youlostyourhusband,ordidyouneverhaveone?”
Blahfrozemid-sip.Shepaused.“Idon’tknow.Idon’tremember.”
Mitziscoffed,“IwishIcouldforget.”
Blahdidn’tlooktoSewaneeforananswer,soSewaneedidn’tprovideone.ShewatchedBlahstareatherdrinkandwondered,notforthefirsttime,ifforgettingallthethingsthathadmadeone’slifeworthlivingbeforeone’slifecametoanendwasacrueltyoramercy.
“Well,maybeyoudidn’thaveone!”Birdiesuggested,cheerfully.“Maybeyouwerejustsleazy!”
Aknife-cuttingsilenceasBlahthoughtaboutthis.“God,Ihopeso,”shesaidanddrank.
ADAKUANDSEWANEEtuckedintoacurvedredvinylboothatthebackofSmokeHouse,joiningtheotherearly-birders.AdakuorderedasteaksaladwithoilandvinegaronthesideandSewanee,wantingtobesupportive,didthesame.
“How’sthetraininggoing?”sheasked.
“IfeellikeMitzi,”Adakuanswered.“Everythinghurts.”
“Well,youlookgreat.Youareofficiallyabadass.”
Adakugrimaced.“IbetterbeifI’mgonnamakeitthroughthisfilm.”
“Pleasetellmeyou’renotdoingyourownstunts?”
“God,no!Butit’sstillgonnabeabitch.Runningthroughthejungleandallthefightchoreography.I–”Shestoppedherself,seemingembarrassedtobeheardcomplainingaboutstarringinafilmanyoneelsewouldhavekilledfor.That“anyoneelse”beingherbestfriendsittingacrossfromher.Shesmiledandchipperedup.“IshouldshutupiswhatIshoulddo.”
“No,A,youshouldn’tshutup.Youhaveeveryrighttofeelthewayyoudo.”
ButAdakushookherhead.“Uhn-uhn.I’mnotgonnabecomeoneofthoseactresseswebothhatelisteningto.”Shemindlesslyreachedforthebasketofgarlicbreadandsnappedherhandback.“Idon’twanttotalkaboutmeanyway.IwantaBrockMcNightupdate!”
Sewaneeflushed.“Oh!There’snothingtoreport.”
Adaku’seyesflaredwithintrigueandshewavedherwholehandaroundSewanee’sface.“ThatisnotwhatI’mseeing.”
“Ijustmean,nothing’s,youknow,happened.”
“Butyoulikehim.”
“Sure.Heseems…nice.Wehaveagood…workingrelationship.”
Adakushookherheadslowlybackandforth,backandforth,diggingatroughwithherchin.“Nope.Nope,nope,nope.”
Sewaneethrewherheadback.“Ugh,fine!He’sgreat.He’sfunny.He’sahundredtimesmoreinterestingthanIthoughthe’dbe.Hewritesincompletesentences.Correctlycapitalizespropernouns.”
“Wow,whereareyouguysregistered?”
Sewaneesnorted.“Youknow,morethananything?It’sjustbeennicecollaboratingwithsomeone.Makesmefeel…”
“What?”Adakuagainreachedforthebreadthenflaggedapassingwaiter.“Excuseme?”Shepointedatthebasket.“Canyoudisappearthis,please?Thankyou.”SheturnedherattentionbacktoSewanee.“Feelwhat?”
Sewaneetookamomenttosipherwater.Tomakeadecision.Voicingwhatshewasaboutto,especiallytoAdaku,feltfinal.Irrevocable.Onceitwasout,herfriendwouldhavesomethingtoholdherto.Adakuwasacatwaitingtopounce.“LikeI’mactingagain.Reallyacting.Andit’smademerealize…thatImissit.”
Adakudroppedherchin,gazedsolidlyatSewaneethroughthetopsofhereyes.“Thisisnew.Whatarewegoingtodoaboutthis?”
Sewaneeflickedherhand.“Nothing.It’llpass.”
“Itisnotnothing.Iwillnotletitpass.”
Theylookedateachother.
Sewaneepreparedtosaysomething,butshewasn’tsurewhat.Adakudidn’tgiveherthechance.“YouknowIthinkyouthrewinthetoweltoosoon.”
Gratefultobesparedamomentofherownreckoning,Sewaneenodded.“Yeah,Iknow.You’rewrong,butIknow.”
“Youweretheonlyonewhotoldyouitwasover.Evenyouragentsaid–”
“He’sanagent.Hethoughthecouldcapitalizeonit.IfI’dbeenmoreestablishedbeforetheaccident,maybe.ButIwasn’t.”
She’dwondered:Hadshedonethatshowbackinhighschool,hadherparentslether,wouldshehavebeenfamousenoughtoovercomewhathappenedtoher?Ifshe’dhadfans,andthey’dlivedthroughitwithher?Iftheindustryfeltitowedhersomething?Itwouldhavebeenastory,atleast.Shecouldhave–andGod,shehatedthisword–leveragedit.Buthowcouldshehaveacomebackwithoutaplacetocomebackto?Asitwas,shewassimplyanotheractresswhodisappearedasquicklyasshehadbeendiscovered.Notastar;ashootingstar
AndthenDougCarreyofallpeoplehadsaid,“Don’tgiveup.”Thatmaybetherewasaplaceforher.AndthenBrockhadtalkedabouthisfearoftryingtoreclaimwhathe’dhadbeforeandshehadn’tbeenabletosleepthatnightforthinking.
Adakustillpeeredather.“It’sasimplequestion.Doyouwanttoact?”
“It’snotasimplequestion.Ican’t–”
“Yesorno.”
“Imissit,butIdon’tknowifI’mjustbeing–”
“Yes!Or!No!”
“Idon’tknow!”
“Youdon’tknow?Trysayingit.Trysayingitandseehowthetruthfeels.”
Therewasaninterminablelacuna.“Yes.”
AdakubangedthetablesoforcefullySewaneelungedforherwaterglassandthewholerestaurantturned.Adakuwasunperturbed.“Thenwhatarewewaitingfor?!Here’swhatwedo!”
“A,please.Everyone’slooking,”Sewaneemurmured.
“Yes,theyare!Attwoco-starsofTheOriginator!”
“What,no,A,no–”
“Youdon’tgettotalkrightnow,yougettolisten.”Adakuleanedoverthetable.“There’saroleinthisfilmandwhenIreadit?AllIcouldthinkwas,IsweartoGod,Ithought:thisisSwan.ThisisSewaneeChesterasIliveandbreathe.Butyou’resostubbornaboutneveractingagain–”
“I’mnotstubborn,I’mrealistic.”
Adakuignoredher.“It’sthebestroleinthefilm!Notbig.Maybesixscenes.Butpivotalandmemorableandjust”–Adakugroanedloudly,fiercely,garneringmorelooks–“delicious.”
Sewaneequirkedherhead.“Inthisfilm?Isn’titchicksinhotpantswithmachinegunsinthejungle–”
AdakuwavedherfingeratSewanee’smouth.“Yougottoclosethisupandhearmeout,okay?”
Sewaneecouldhavebeenblindedbythelightinherfriend’seyes.Shesighedwithinternalexcitementandexternalcautionandsaid,“Okay.”
Adakubroughtherhandstogether,asifinprayer.“She’stheleaderofthisresistancegroupthat’sbeenlivinginthetrees–”
Sewaneesnorted.Itwasinvoluntary.
Adakuglaredather.“AndwhenIstumbleuponthemwithmytribe,shealmostkillsme.Bowieknifetothethroat.Butthenweally–”
“Letmeguess:Shediesinthefinalbattle?”
Adaku’shandsturnedintofists,takingthereinsonherpatience.“Swan.There’ssomuchmeatonthisbone.It’ssuchagooddeath.Theyhangher!”
“Theyhangher?Jesus–”
“Shegoesoutlikethetruewarriorsheis.”Adakuleanedin.“Andasthey’reraisingheruprealslow,realtorturously,becausethey’redickwads,sheandmycharacter?Theymakeeyecontact.Andthere’sthisbeautifulcamaraderie,this,like,witnessing.This,‘Iwillmakethisrightifit’sthelastthingIdo,youwillnotdieinvain’thing.AndI’dhavetearsstreamingdownmyfaceandyou’dhaveonetearrollingdownyourcheek–’causeyouhavethatfreakishabilitytotimeyourtears–combinedwiththissteelygo-ahead-you-shitheads-kill-medefianceonyourface.Andthenyourlifeforce…just…fadesout.Imean,comeon!”Adakuspreadherhandsoverthetable,atthisimaginedspreadofopportunity.“It’syourrole.Icandothis.”
“Whatdoyoumeanyoucandothis?”
“Starpower,babe!It’swhatwe’vebeenfightingforsinceourTony’spizzadaysandnowI’vegotit.”
Sewaneetriedtosquashthejoltofexcitementthatshotthroughher.“Okay.Okay.What’sherbackstory?”
“Shewaskidnappedandforcedtoworkinabrothel.Andsherefusedtodowhattheytoldherto.Aqueenfromthejump.”
Sewaneepaused.“So,theypunishedher.”
Adakupaused,too.“Right.Butbecauseshewasso–”
“She’sdisfigured.”
Adakutookanotherpause.“Yes,butthat’snotthepoint.”
“No,myabilitytotimemytearsisthepoint.”Sheballeduphernapkin,tosseditgentlyontothetable.“Comeon,A,atleastbehonest.”
Adakuhuffed.“Youknowwhat?”Satback,huffedagain.“Honestly?Sometimesyoureallypissmeoff.Youwanttothinktheonlythinganybodyseesisthatscar,goforit.Butmeanwhile,there’sachanceforustodosomethingtogether.Tomakesomethinghappentogether.Andyouareperfectforthepartbecauseofeverythingyouare,andeverythingyou’vesurvived,andsorry,butyes,thathasalottodowiththatscar.”
Adakustoppedthereasthefoodarrived.Shedugintohersaladwithleashedfrustration.Sewaneepickedathersforafewmomentsbeforesaying,“I’msorry.You’reright.Ijustwish–”
“AndIjustwishyou’ddealwithitalready,”Adakurushedout,inlovingexasperation.“Becauseit’sholdingyoubackanditkillsmetowatchyou–”
Sewaneeheldupahand.“Iknow.”SheencircledAdaku’swrist.“I’msorry.”Shewidenedhereyeforemphasis
Adakusighedandliftedherwristtoherlips,kissedthetopofSewanee’slingeringhand.“Metoo.I’mhangryallthetimenow.Thistraining’sturnedmeintoaroided-outgymdick.”
SewaneechuckledandAdakudugbackintohersalad.Sewaneetookabiteandasipofwater.“So.Howrealisthis?Medoingthis?”
Adakuswallowed.“Firstthingtomorrow,I’llcheckinwiththestudio.Iknowtheyhaven’tfoundanyoneyet.Ican’tguaranteethey’dmakeastraightoffer.EvenIhadtoaudition.Butit’llbeaformality.They’regoingtofallinlovewithyou.”
***
February27
BROCK:
Headsup:inoneofmysections,ClaireaskswhatAlessandrowantsoutoftheirlovemakingandhesays,“Iwanttochangeyourvoice.”Andthenattheend,hereferencesthathedidatsomepointandhowitwasthehottestaccomplishmentofhislifeorsomesuch.Somaybefindaplacetochangeyourvoiceinoneofyoursections?
SEWANEE:
Youwantmetochangemyvoice?
BROCK:
IDK.MaybejustsomethingthatgivesalittleheattoClaire’stypicalcool/calm/collectedthing.
SEWANEE:
Youreallywantthat?
BROCK:
No.Notnecessarily.I’mjustspit-balling.
SEWANEE:
Well,isthereaspecificspit-ballyouhaveinmind?
BROCK:
Youknow,whatever.Somethingalittlewild.Maybe.
SEWANEE:
Wild?Really.
BROCK:
Ok,notwild.
Maybejustwanton.
SEWANEE:
Wanton?!
BROCK:
Forgetit.Ishouldn’thavebroughtitup.
SEWANEE:
BROCK:
Areyou…laughingatme?
SEWANEE:
Wantonly.
Hey,uhhhhh,headsup:Inoneofmysectionsitsays,“I’dneverheardmyownvoicesoundlikethat,Ididn’tsoundlikemyself.OrmaybeIsoundedexactlylikemyself.Mytrueself.”Somaybeifyoucould,like,IDK,dosomethingworthyofthatresponse…
BROCK:
youalreadyknewallthis.
SEWANEE:
ButrestassuredIthoroughlyenjoyedyoutryingtotalkaboutit.
BROCK:
Itwasn’teasy.
SEWANEE:
Icouldhearyourvoicechange.
BROCK:
?
Twenty-eightminuteslater,asSewaneewasstandinginatowelinherbathroom,combingoutherhair,herphonedinged.
BROCK:
It’sagoodline,isn’tit?Iwanttochangeyourvoice.
SEWANEE:
Itis.
BROCK:
Itis.
SEWANEE:
Juneknewwhatshewasdoing.
BROCK:
Iwouldvaporizeifawomansaidthattome.
SEWANEE:
Iwouldvaporizeifamanachievedit.
Shewatchedthebubblesappear.Watchedthemstop.
Startagain.
Stop.
Start.
Stop.
Start.
Stop.
***
February28
SEWANEE:
Question.AnyinterestindoingsomethingotherthanRomance?AfriendiscastingaClancy-esquebookandneedsanalphaassassinsound.
BROCK:
It’sgratifyingtoknowIsoundthatmasculinetoyou.
SEWANEE:
Soundscanbedeceiving?
BROCK:
Let’sjustsaythevoiceistheonlythingIhavegoingformeinthatdepartment.
SEWANEE:
Don’tforgetyou’reamusician.Lotsofwomendigthat.
BROCK:
Notyoutho?
SEWANEE:
IliveinLA.Everyguyisamusician.
BROCK:
Anyoneeverwrittenasongaboutyou?
SEWANEE:
mmm…
Idon’tthinkso?
BROCK:
Youwouldn’tremember?
SEWANEE:
I’velistenedtoalotofbadboyfriends’badsongs.Ijustdon’tthinkanyofthemwerewrittenaboutme.AtleastIhopetheyweren’t.
BROCK:
Fair.
SEWANEE:
SoshouldIputyourhatinthering?
BROCK:
Iappreciateit,really,buthonestly?Eventhethoughtofit…
itmakesmetired.
youwanttoknowhowunsuitedIactuallyamtothisjob?
SEWANEE:
PLEASE
BROCK:
Hereitis:
I’mnotareader.
Idon’tlikereading!
There!Isaidit!
SEWANEE:
Thefirststepisadmittingyouhaveaproblem.
BROCK:
Ifeelsomuchbetter!
Freeeeeeedom!
Iwanttodance!Iwanttosing!
SEWANEE:
lol
BROCK:
Iwanttograbyouupandkissyou!
Gotcarriedaway.
Sorry.
SEWANEE:
Don’tbe.
BROCK:
ok.
(Iwasn’tanyway)
From:JasonRuiz
To:BrockMcNight;Westholme,Sarah
Date:March1,4:56PM
Subject:Casanova,LLCpayment
Hi,
Justmadethefirstdeposit,letmeknowifyoudon’tseeithityouraccountsinthenextfewdays.Receiptattached.?
JR
From:BrockMcNight
To:JasonRuiz;Westholme,Sarah
Date:March1,4:58PM
Subject:RE:Casanova,LLCpayment
HOLYSHIT!!
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight;JasonRuiz
Date:March1,4:58PM
Subject:RE:Casanova,LLCpayment
HOLYSHIT!!
BROCK:
didwesendthatemailatthesametime?
SEWANEE:
didwereplyatthesametimeagain?
BROCK:
lol
SEWANEE:
LOL
BROCK:
STOPIT
SEWANEE:
omgstop
kyougo,I’llwait.
BROCK:
IREPEAT:HOLYSHIT
SEWANEE:
SERIOUSLY.Congrats!
BROCK:
Youtoo!See,nowIcare!NowIfeellikethetrophywife!
SEWANEE:
Iwishwecouldgocelebrate.
BROCK:
Iwishwecouldgocelebrate.
SEWANEE:
AGAIN?!
BROCK:
AGAIN?!
SEWANEE:
Thisisridiculous!
BROCK:
Thisisridiculous!
SEWANEE:
LOL!
BROCK:
LOL!
SEWANEE:
Fourscoreandsevenyearsago
BROCK:
Yougotout!Welldone.
SEWANEE:
Thankyou.
Nowgobuyyourselfsomethingpretty.
BROCK:
Willdo,Daddy.
Ew.
SEWANEE:
Ew.
SEWANEEWASSTANDINGoverherkitchensink,eatingasalad,runninglines–forherupcomingaudition–inherhead,GolfChanneloninthebackground,whenherphonevibrated.
ADAKU:
Hey,whatdaydidyousayyouwantedtogooverthescenes?
SEWANEE:
The4th.Daybeforetheaudition.
ADAKU:
Sweet,thencanIaskafavor?
SEWANEE:
Course
ADAKU:
CanyouhelpputmeontapefortheAngelaDavisthing?Iworehimdown!Hesaidhe’datleastwatchaself-tape.
SEWANEE:
OMGYES!Exciting.
ADAKU:
She’djustsetherphonedownwhenitvibratedagain.
BROCK:
CanIbehonest?Idon’tknowhowmuchlongerIcankeepthisup.
SEWANEE:
Arewedoinginnuendosagain?
BROCK:
No.Seriously.
SEWANEE:
What?
BROCK:
Narrating.
SEWANEE:
oh.Phew.
BROCK:
phewwhat?
whatdidyouthinkImeant?
SEWANEE:
Uhhhhhthis.Thetextingthing.
BROCK:
WhywouldIwanttostopthis?!
AnddowehaveaTHING?
SEWANEE:
Idon’tknow!Lol
BROCK:
Actually,maybeweshouldstopthis.
RememberthattelewhateverinventionIwastellingyouabout?Ihearit’supandrunning.Wannagiveitatry?
Sewaneefroze,forkfuloflettucehalfwaytohermouth.Shesetitbackinthebowlandstaredatherphone.ShewroteOkay,sentit,andtypedWhendoyouwanttosetupatimeto
Thephonevibratedwithanincomingcall.
Shethrewitonthecounterasifshe’dbeenelectrocuted.Itkeptvibrating,pulsingawayfromherinbursts,thewords“BROCKMCNIGHT”taunting.
Shedidn’tmoveagainuntilitstoppedmoving.
Don’tpanic,don’tpanic,shethought.Whyareyoupanicking?There’snothingtopanicabout.
Thephonevibratedonce.
BROCK:
?
Shespuninacircle,blewoutsomeLamaze-stylebreaths,andmadeherselfpickupherphone.Shequicklytyped:
Iwasn’tready.ImeanI’mnotready.Idon’tknowwhyI’mnot,butI’mnot.I’mbeingweird.Sorry.I’llgetbacktoyou.Doublesorry.
Shepressedsendbeforeshecouldsecond-guessit.
Shewatchedhisbubblesappear.
Then:
Noworries.Takeyourtime.
***
March2
BROCK:
Question.Weren’tyougonnagetbacktome?
SEWANEE:
Sorry.Yes.Justgottiedup.
BROCK:
kinky.
SEWANEE:
FiftyShadesofDeadline.Inthemiddleofabookintentonkillingme.WorldWarTwo.Everyaccentonearth.Screamingmen.Gonnaneedacoupleofdays.
BROCK:
ShouldIapologizeforlastnight?
SEWANEE:
No!
BROCK:
Behonest.
SEWANEE:
NO.Iam.Iwill.Iwanttotalk.AndIwill.
Ithinkthisiswhatacrazypersonsoundslike.
BROCK:
It’sok.Wereallydon’thavetotalk
SEWANEE:
Ipinky-swearpromiseI’llgetbacktoyou.Maybeanemail.Oraletter!Oracarrierpigeon?Regardless:soon.
BROCK:
Good.
THENEXTDAY,SewaneesatinAdaku’slivingroomrunningthescenes.Adakuassured–andreassured–herthateveryonewasalreadyconvincedshewasperfectfortherole.Thestudiowasinsistingtheyseeafewtokenactresses,whichtheybothknewwasindustrystandard,but–Adakuadamantlyrepeated–theyweresoexcitedtoseeher.
Adakureadwithherandkepttryingtoboostherup(you’rebrilliant!Lovethatlinereading!They’regoingtodie,you’reperfect!),butitwasn’tnecessary.Sewaneewasgenuinelyfireduptogetbackinanauditionroom.Besides,nothingwasmoredauntingthanperformingabook.Itfeltluxurious,actually,buildingjustonecharacterinsteadofanentireworld.
ThentheyfilmedtheAngelaDavisself-tape.Afterafewtakes,Adakusaid,“Anynotes?”
Sewaneeglanceddownatthepages,assessingthemthewayshemightaparticularlyopaquenovel.“Tryitdistracted.Harried.Youdon’thavetimetobehavingthisconversation.”
“Hmm,”Adakugrunted,andtheyranthesceneoncemore.“Yeah,”shesaidafter,nodding.“That’sbetter.Makesroomfortheambiguity.”
“Let’stryonemoreandthatlastline?Don’tlookatherwhenyousayit.You’realreadyonyourwayout.Leavehertointerpretit.”
Adakutrieditand,afterSewaneehadcut,tossedbackherhead.“Yes!Somuchbetter!”ShethankedSewaneewithahug.“You’vealwaysbeenmybestdirector.AndImissactingwithyou!”Sheflutteredherhandsbyherface.“Ahh,Ican’twait!”Shespunawayandtookadragonhersuper-duperproteinshakeSewaneethoughtsmelledlikemoldyspinach.“Thiswillmovefast,Swan.Getallyourrecordingdonebecausewe’regonnabeinAustraliaforthreemonths.”
Sewaneesmiled.“Ionlyhavesixscenes,remember?”
“Yeah,well,thelasttimewewereonlocationtogetheritwasonlysupposedtobeaweekandlookhowthatturnedout.”
SewaneewatchedAdakurealizewhatshewassayingasshewassayingit.Sawtheflareofpanicinhereyes,thelast-minutedecisiontoaddacheekygrinattheend,thewayshewentbacktohersmoothieinanefforttolookcasual.Asshe’dsaid,Sewaneewasherbestdirector;sheknewalltheticsinAdaku’sperformances.
Toputheratease,Sewaneechangedthesubject.“Youknow,Ishouldgowithyoutothegym,seewhatroutinethey’vegotyoudoing.”
Adakushookherheadanddidsomehamstringstretches.“You’reonyourownforthat.I’mheadingtoLondontomorrowfortheGirlintheMiddlepremiereandpress.I’llbetherefor…”Shestaredatthefloor,calculating.“Three?Fourdays?Thenbackhere,butjustforanovernight,becauseTheOriginatorissendingmetoGeorgiaforsomeoff-gridteam-buildingthingwiththeothergirlsinmy‘tribe.’Andthenthere’stwoweeksofweaponstraining,whichI’msureyou’llbeapartof.ThenAustralia.”Adakutookanintenseslurpandsaidthroughhercringe,“Ican’tbelieveI’llbetrudgingthroughbackcountryGeorgiaswamplandthistimenextweek.”
Sewaneepeeredather.Adaku’susualgo-go-goattitudeseemedtobelimpingabit.Shealwaysapproachedtheworldlikeonebigimprovsetup:yes,and!Rightnow,though,Sewaneewasseeingmoreyes,but.“Youtakingcareofyourself?”
“Yeah!Justtiredisall.”
“CanIdoanythingtohelp?”
“Bebrilliantinthisfilmsowecandomoreofthis.”
Sewaneestoodtogo.ShehadalotofrecordingtoburnthroughifshewasgoingtoAustralia.ShequicklycalculatedwhenshemightnextseeAdaku,givenherschedule,andtheanswerwasbleak.Soshesaid,“Hey,whydon’tItakeyoutotheairportfortheGeorgiatripnextweek?”
Adakushookherhead.“It’sthemorningaftertheAudies,youdon’tlovemethatmuch.”
“Wannabet?”
Adakusmiled.“Okay,butI’llmeetyouatyourplace.NoneedforyoutocomeallthewayEastonlytotakemeallthewayWest.Plus”–shewinked–“giveyoumoretimetogetBrockoutofyourbed.”
Sewaneescoffedasshewalkedtothefrontdoor.“Idoubthe’llbeattheAudies.”
“Whynot?”
“He’sallsmokeandmirrors.Thewholepseudonymthing.Nooneknowswhoheis!”
Theysaidgoodbye,Adakutakingheremptyshakerintothekitchen,Sewaneeclosingthedoorbehindher.
Asshewalkedtohercar,sherolledtheauditionpagesintoatelescope,tappingthemagainstherleginajitterybeat.
Thethoughtofactingagain,ofputtingherselffullyoutthereafterhavinghiddenawayina4×4soundboothforalltheseyears,wasmakingherheady.Wasshereallyreadytodothis?
Yes.
Hell,yes.
Itshockedherthatwhatevertrepidatiousfearshe’dcarriedforsolongcouldbesoinstantly,sothoroughly,overruledbyexcitement.Bybeinggiventheopportunitytomakeitright.Likebeinggivenasecondchance.LikeClaireandAlessandro.Andallofit,somehow,kepthercirclingbacktothinkingaboutBrock.
IfshewereAdaku,shemightsayeverythinghappenedforareasonortheuniversewasharmonizingorsomeshit,butshe…well,thatwasn’ther.
Still.Somethingwascohering.Maybeitwasoneofthoseseven-yearcyclespeopletalkedabout.Maybeshewasfinallycomingaroundthedarksideofthemoon.
She’dtexthimlater:Question.Whydoesthemoongodark?
Butrightnow,inthismoment,shehadaquestionforherself:
Whywasshesoafraidtotalktohim?
Itmadenosense.
Everythingwascomingtogetherforher,andhewasapartofthat.Whycouldn’tshebringherselftotellhimthestoryshe’dputofftellinghim?Twicenow.Her“Why.”
Whatwastheworstthatcouldhappen?Shewoulddiscoveritwasn’t–hewasn’t–thefantasyshehopedhewouldbe?No.Wasitthatshewouldnolongerbethefantasyshewantedtobe?Yes.Andhowpatheticwasthat?
Thetimehadcome.ShewouldactagainandshewouldstopactingwithBrock.She’dbehonest.Andworstcase?They’dstayfriends.Colleagues.They’dcontinuetomakeatonofmoneyvoice-banging,astheFacebookfanscalledit.Theideathathewould,forsomereason,cutheroffentirelywasasabsurdastheideathatthefantasywasreal.Bothimaginedoutcomessoequallyludicroustheyessentiallycanceledeachotherout.
Theshitshecouldconvinceherselfof,tokeepherfrombeingherself.Remarkable.Ridiculous.Really.
ThatwasasfarasherthinkinghadgottenbythetimesheparkedinfrontofMark’shouse.
Assheclimbedsixty-fourstairs,shedecidedAdakuhadbeenrightatdinner:shehadtodealwithherself.Shehadtogetoverit.Byhiding,shewasn’tdoingherselfanyfavors,nevermindhim.Andwasn’thetherightpersontoopenupto?Wouldn’theunderstand?Someonewhosharedthesamefears,asimilarpast?Whoknewwhatitwasliketohavetheworldspreadoutatyourfeet,onlytotripoverit?
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:March4,7:12PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Hey,
Tostart,Iwanttoapologize.IknowImadeitseemlikeIdon’twanttotalktoyouonthetelethingy,butthat’snottrue.Iwouldlovetotalktoyou.Butyouwanttoknowmy“Why,”myAnotherTime…andtheproblemisI’mnotpreparedtotalkaboutit.Iampreparedtotellyouaboutit,though.Ihopeyoucanunderstandthedifference.
So.
Iwas24,abouttwoyearsoutofJulliard.Iwasgettingsomework,episodicTV,failedseries,micro-budgetindiefilmstuff.Iwasconsidereda“hottie”(theiropinion,butokayalsomine)whocouldactuallyact.Iwasgettingcloseonalotofstuff.Myalmost-resumewasamazing.Itfeltlikeitwasjustamatteroftime.Somethingwasgonnahit.
Andthenitdid.
Ibookedtheleadinafilm.Tobemoreprecise,theco-leadofamajorfilm.ItwasaDEAthing,kindoflikeTrainingDay,butwithcartelsandafemalenewbie.Overnight,Iwentfromobscuritytorelevance.That’sourbusiness.Nobodytosomebodyinstantly.Likeoneofthosedriedupspongesthatkidsputinwaterandvoilait’sadinosauroracowor…nevermind.
Sidebar:YoueverheardthatjokeaboutactorsinHollywood?It’sthefivestagesofanactor’slife:
WhoisSarahWestholme?
GetmeSarahWestholme!
GetmeaSarahWestholmetype!
GetmeayoungerSarahWestholme!
WhoisSarahWestholme?
Anyway,wewerefilminginMexico.Therewasasmallroleformycharacter’sbestfriendandIgotmyrealbestfriendcastinit.(AndnowIthinkshe’stryingtorepaymeforthis,butthat’sawholeotherstory.)
I’dbeenthereforaboutthreeweeks.Twoweeksofrehearsals,oneweekoffilming.Mybestfriend’ssceneswerescheduledearlyintheshoot,firstfewdays,andtheywentgreat.TheywrappedheronFridayandImadeherstaytheweekendbecauseIwantedtocelebrate.Thiswasourbigbreak,right,sowelookedforsomethingmemorabletodo.Exciting!Fun!Alittlecrazy!(read:stupid.Well,maybenotstupidundernormalcircumstances,butthekindofthingyouprobablyshouldn’tdoatthebeginningofajobinaforeigncountryknownforitsdubioussafetyregulations.)
Wewentskydiving.Thekindwhereyou’restrappedtoanexperiencedjumper.Sowegetintoaplaneandupwego.Thehigherup,themoresignificantthepanicking.Iwasflip-floppingbackandforthinmyhead:amIscaredoramIexcited?Iwasn’tsure.(Thisis,like,athemeofmylife,btw,andprobexplainswhathappenedtheothernightwhenyoucalled.)
Anyway,weleveloffandsuddenlymyfriendisstrappedtoherguideandthey’restandingattheopendoor.Shesmilesbig,givesmeadoublethumbs-up,andthey’regone.MyjumpingcompanionwalksmeforwardandIlookout,lookdown,feelthegrabofthewind.Idon’tjumpsomuchasfallandthenthere’snothingundermyfeetandthatwindisslammingagainstme.Ihearavoice.No,notGod.Theguyonmybackiscountingdown.He’stellingmetopullthecord.ButIcan’tmove.Sohereachesforit,grabsit,andyanks.
Andyanks.
Andyanks.
Atthatmoment,Ihadaweirdacceptanceofdying.Truly.Idissociated.Anunexplainablelettinggo.Iwasfinished.AndIwasokaywiththat.
Butthen:theparachuteopened.Somereservesomething-or-other.Simpleasthat.Andwelanded.Albeit(asyouwouldsay)harderthannormal,butwewerefine.Wewerealive.
Myjumpbuddyunbuckledmeandwehuggedlikewehadsurvivedawartogether.Myfriendcamerunningoverandwegrabbedeachother,screamingadrenaline-fuelednonsense.Ican’tdescribehowaliveIfelthavingcomesoclosetodeath.IwashighlikeI’veneverbeenhigh,andlemmetellyouI’vebeenhiiiiiiiiigh.Inthevan,onthewaybacktotheairstrip,Icouldn’tshutup.Iwentovereverylittledetail.Irememberedeverything,everysinglepieceofthepuzzle.
Andtheirony?Idon’trememberitnow.Notonepiece.
EverythingI’vetoldyouiswhatmyfriendtoldmeI’dsaid.
Apparently,Ijumpedoutofthevanattheairstripbeforeithadfullystopped.Didacartwheel,supposedly,thoughIdon’tthinkI’deverdoneacartwheelinmylife.Ranovertotheplanewe’djumpedoutof,whichhadjustlanded,andattemptedtowrapmyarmsaroundthefrontofthefuselageinanawkwardhug.Kissedit.AndthenIwhippedaroundandsteppedrightintotheplane’sprop,whichwasinvisiblebecauseithadn’tstoppedspinning.Itcarvedintome.
IguessIcouldhavestartedthestoryhere.Sorry.ButIwantedyoutoknowallofit.Iwantedyoutobethere.Forthewholething.ThewholethingIcan’tremember.
WhatIdorememberiswakinguponDecember4th,twodaysaftertheaccident,inahospitalroomwithmyparents,mygrandmother,andmybestfriendaroundme.
WhatIwishIcouldforgetisthefeelinginmygut,intheverycoilofmyintestines,thatI’dlosteverythingandthatitwasmyfault.
Thepropellerhadsliceddiagonallydownmyface,takenmyrighteye,andseparatedmyclaviclefrommyshoulder.Iwassolucky.Itcouldhavebeenso,so,somuchworse.Ifithadbeengoinganyfaster,ifI’drunintoitatadifferentangle…
Exponentialifs.
Theonebrightside:whenIcameoutofmyfirstsurgery,Ispoketothefilm’sdirectorandIconvincedhimtotestmyfriendformyrole.Theywereobviouslyupacreekthankstomesotheyagreedandshekilledit,ofcourse,andtheyhiredher.Theyonlyhadtoreshootaweekofscenestomakeherthelead,recastherrole,andthatwasthat.Itkickstartedhercareer.I’mhappyforher.Iknowitmightnotseemthatway,butIam.Really.
Sooooonowyouknowwhatyou’redealingwith.Exactlywhatyouimagined,I’msure.Suchacommonstory.
Topreemptivelyansweryourquestions:I’velearnedtolivewithmydisfigurementandtocompensateforhavingoneeye(aretheviolinsplayingyet?).Thehumanbodyisamarvel.Myshoulderismostlyfine(thoughI’mnotcompetinginOlympicweight-liftinganytimesoon).Iwearaneyepatch,whichhasbecomeassecondnatureaslipstickornailpolish.Mostpeoplearen’tintentionallyrudeassholes.Itrytoavoiddrunksandchildren.ButtobefairIdidthatbeforetheaccident,too.
Andnowyouhavemy“Why.”Finally!
There.Sewaneesatback,baskinginthesatisfactionofhavingtoldthestory,allofit,hidingnothing.Sheplacedthecursoroverthesendiconandthen,justasshewasabouttoclick,liftedherfinger.Sherealizedsheshouldgiveitaread,tomakesureautocorrecthadn’tsabotagedherwords,tomakesurethestory,andherthoughts,wereasclearasshefelttheywere.
Soshedid.
Andwhatevercourageshe’dacquiredpriortosittingdownleakedawaywitheverysentence.
Shecouldn’tsendthis.
Shewasn’tready.
Hisstoryhadgivenherapeekintohispersonality;herstorywasanakedrevealofallherrawestparts.Itwasnotanequalexchangeofinsight.
Howcouldshehandoverhersoulwhenshedidn’tevenknowhisrealname?
Shedeletedeverythingbutthefirstparagraphandaddedwhatshehopedwasadistillationofhertruth.Enoughofit,anyway:
Hey,
Tostart,Iwanttoapologize.IknowImadeitseemlikeIdon’twanttotalktoyouonthetelethingy,butthat’snottrue.Iwouldlovetotalktoyou.Butyouwanttoknowmy“Why,”myAnotherTime…andtheproblemisI’mnotpreparedtotalkaboutit.Iampreparedtotellyouaboutit,though.Ihopeyoucanunderstandthedifference.
Sothat’showIstartedwritingthisemailtoyou.TheemailinwhichIwasgoingtolayitalloutthere,baremyselfintheharshlightofacomputerscreen.Problemis,“I’mnotpreparedtotalkaboutit”istrue.“Iampreparedtotellyouaboutit”isapparentlynot.I’msorry.There’salottothis.Tome.AndIthoughtIwasready,butI’mnot.
InwhatIwouldn’tclassifyasahappycoincidence,butacoincidencenonetheless,Idowanttotellyouwesharesomethingincommon:loss.Lossofwhatweoncehadandwhoweoncewere.Fearofhavingtogothroughanythinglikethateveragain.Andjusttellingyouthatfeelsgood.Likeyoumusthavefeltwhenyoutoldme?Sothat’ssomething,Iguess.
Ifeelbetterhavingputthisoutthere,eventhissorry,abbreviatedversion.Ihopewecancontinue.Withallofit.Thework,theplay,thebanter,andofcoursethesexualinnuendoswhenthey…come.
Onward,friend.
ShebegantowriteSewanee,changedittoSarah,andthen,simply,truthfully:
S
Shepressedsend.
SEWANEELEFTEXTRAearly,tobesafe.Theauditionwasonlythreemilesdirectlydownthehill,butoneneverknew.
She’dleftherfacebare,notaspeckofmakeup,andthehairshe’drefrainedfromwashingforthreedayshungstraightdown.Sheworecargopantsandatanktop,thenrealizedherarmsdidn’tlooklikeAdaku’slookedthesedays,likeshe’dbeencarryingthedeadweightofhercomradesthroughunderbrushforayear.Soshefoundaloose-weaveboatnecksweaterandthrewitoverthetank.Combatboots.Eyepatch.
Withoutanytraffic,shewasatSunsetGowerStudiosintenminutes.
Shegaveherselfanotherteninthecartorunthescenes.
Shehadit.
Sheleftthepages;shedidn’tneedthem.Besides,itwasempoweringtowalkintheroomwithoutascript.Sheleftherphone,too.Shewalkedtothepedestriangate.TheguardcheckedherIDandgaveheramapofthelot,butsheknewwhereshewasgoing.Itwaslikevisitingherelementaryschool.
Walkingthroughthelot,sherememberedpastauditions.Somebetterthanothers,mostunfruitful,butallexcitingbecausetheyrepresentedpossibility.She’devenshotafewguestspotsandanindependentfilmonthislot.Blahhadworkedhere,too,ithadbeenaroundthatlong.
Shefoundtherightofficeandknewshe’dbeenherebefore,butitbelongedtoadifferentcastingdirectornow.Everyonewasnew.SevenyearswasaneoninHollywood.
Sheroundedthecornerintothewaitingroom.Normally,itwouldhavebeenovercrowdedwithwall-to-wallactors,havingthefeelofacommercialpoultryfarm.Buttoday,Sewaneewasoneofaselectfew.Shesignedinandtookaseat.Theactresssittingnexttoherleanedover.“Eyepatch.Nicetouch.WishIwouldhavethoughtofthat.”Sewaneenoddedinthanks.
Thecastingdirectorenteredthewaitingroom,tailedbytheactresswhohadjustauditioned,andcheckedthesign-insheet.Sheturnedaround,eyessearching,andtheylandedonSewanee.Shesmiled.“SewaneeChester.Thankyouforcomingin.”
“Thankyouforhavingme.”Sewaneereturnedhersmile.
Theotherhopefulswatchedthisexchangelikefivebabybirdswhosemotherhadreturnedtothenestwithawormforonlyoneofthem.
Thecastingdirectorturnedbacktothesign-insheet.“Kristin?Ready?”
Thewomanwho’dcomplimentedSewanee’seyepatchstoodup.
Silencefellovertheroomforamoment,whichwasfinewithSewanee.She’dneverlikedtalkingbeforeanaudition.Buttwoofthewomenontheothersideoftheroomresumedaconversation.
“He’sdoinggood,hebookedapilot,thankGod,”onewhispered.“Justagueststar,butifitgoeshe’llberecurring.Thenmaybewecanaffordawedding.TheJakeMeadowsoneforABC?”
“OhIlovedthatone.Didn’tJennagettheleadonthat?”
“Shewasletgo.”
“Noooo.”
“Rightafterthetableread.”
“Nooooooooo.”
“Humiliating.Andgetthis.Herfilm–theradioactivehummingbirdone–haditsreleasedatepushedback.”
“Well,I’dheardtheeditor–”
“Editor.Morelikepredator.TheyhadtobringintheDCComicsguy,whatshisname.”
“TheoneMattiesued?”
“Wait,thatwasthesameguy?!”
“Yeah,thevaletlurker!”
“Who”–shemadeajerkoffgesture–“onhertires?”
“Yes.Men:youcan’tlivewiththemandyoucan’tlivewiththem.”
“Right?So,havetheyrecastJenna’sroleyet?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Shit.Who?”
“SomeYouTuber.Brandontriedtogetmeinforit,buttheymusthavehadthischickinthewings.Jennahadn’teventakenoutherextensionsyetand,bam,itwasonDeadline.”
TherewerecertainthingsaboutthisbusinessSewaneedidnotmiss.
Anhourlater,shewasthelastoneleft.Aredheadcameoutoftheauditionroom,amidachorusofThankYousandThatWasGreats.Onherwayout,shesaidunderherbreathtoSewanee,“Toughroom.Goodluck.”
Sewaneeknewthistactic.PutthefearofGodintothecompetitionrightbeforetheygoin.Itdidn’tfazeher.
Thecastingdirectorreappearedandbeckonedherinside.
One,two,three,four,five,six,seven,eightpeople.Eightpeopleinaclamshell,acamerainthemiddlepointedatthedoor.Ather.
Sheturnedonlikeafloodlight.Promphotobeam,marionettewave,gameshowhost“Hello!”
Eventheonesabsorbedwiththeirphoneslookeduplongenoughtosmileather.Amaninthecenterstood,heldouthishand.“I’mColin.”ABrit.“Thedirector.Thankyousomuchforcomingin.Sorryforthewait.”
“Noproblem!”Sewaneechirped,feeling,instantly,sevenyearsyounger.Shesteppedforwardandtookhishandbriefly.“SorryIdon’thaveaphotoandrésuméforyou.It’sbeenawhilesinceI–”
Helookedsurprised.“Oh,theinternet’smadeallthatathingofthepast.IwouldsaythebiggerchallengeislivinguptoAdaku’sglowingreview.”
Sewaneeheldoutherarms,smiled.“Well,I’lltry.”
“Excuseme,”oneofthewomenspokeup.“Iloveaudiobooks.AreyouthatSewaneeChester?”
Sewaneesmiledbigger.“Thatwouldbeme.”
“Youareamazing.Bigfan.”
“Thankyousomuch.”
Thewomanaddressedtheroom.“ShewontheAudieforBestFemaleNarratoroftheYear.”
“Whatisthat?”anotherpersonasked.
“It’stheOscarofAudiobooks.”
Thewholeroomahhhhhd
“Forwhatbook?”amanwhoSewaneeguessedwasaproducerasked.
ThewomanlookedtoSewanee.“WastedSpace,”Sewaneeanswered.
Therewassilence.
“Reeseoptionedit,”thewomansaid.
Theroomahhhhhdagain.
SheturnedherattentionbacktoSewanee.“Irepeat,amazing.”
“AndIammorethanhappytorepeat,thankyousomuch.”She’dneverbeeninaroomthisfriendlybefore.
“YouattendedJulliardwithAdaku,correct?”Colinasked.
“Yes.That’showwemet.”
“Andyou’vebeenwastingawayinaudiobooks.Shame.”
Sewaneepaused.“Well–”
“Well.Let’sseeifwecanchangethat,eh?”Colinsmiled.“Areyouready?”
Wasshe.“Absolutely.”
“Offyougo.”
“WhowillIbereadingwith?”Sewaneeasked.
AyoungerwomannexttoColinraisedherhand.Sewaneenoddedather.Themanrunningthecamerasaidhewasrolling.
Theroomtookonthehollowsilenceofachurch.Cellphoneswereputaside,afewthroatscleared,andeverypairofeyesfixedonher.Itwasthemomentbeforethemusicstartedforaniceskater.Themomentbeforeadivertookthefirststeptowardatripletwistingtwoandahalfsomersault.Themomentbeforethestarterpistolfiredandasprinterranthe100-meterdash.
Sewaneestilled,tookameaningfulbreath.Thenshesteppedintotheroleandontothefield.
Shefeltlikethepersonsheoncewas.Shefeltwhole.Shefeltunstoppable
Itwasagoldmedalperformance.
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:March5,4:23PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Iunderstand.Ido.Onward,absolutely.Ifandwhenyouwanttotellmeaboutit,I’mhere.(Pleasenotetheword“tell”not“talk.”)
So,afterreadingyouremail,Iwentforarun,cameback,tookabeeruptomyroof,andreaditagain.Here’swhatIthink:
Webothbelievedinsomething,inourselves,andwelostit.Andwewantitback.Canwehaveitback?Andwhathappensifwegetitback?Can’tweloseitagain?Andthenwhat?
We’rebothscarred.(SCARRED,notscared,thoughbothareprobablytrue.God,IALWAYSmisreadthosetwowords.SOmanypickups.)
Anyway.That’swhatI’vebeenthinkingabout.Obviouslynotgettinganywhere.
OtherthanitreconfirmswhyIwantoutofRomance.HEAistoomuchofasetup.Itmakesyoubelievewejustneedtogetbackwhatwelostandlifewillberainbowsforevermore.Butitdoesn’taddresswhathappensifyoutrytogetitbackandfail,doesit?
There’salsothepossibilityit’snotaproblemwithRomance,it’saproblemwithus?
IDK.MaybeIshouldhavetakenalongerrun.
AFTERTHEAUDITION,Sewaneerealizedshe’dnevertoldMarkaboutDoug’sinterestinthehouse.Soshetoldhimnowinpassing,bringingpapertowelsinfromthegarage,whilehewasaddingmoreinktohisprinter.Itwasonlywhenshegottothekitchenthatshemetabolizedwhathe’drepliedandwalkeddirectlybackintohisoffice.“Didyousayyou’llgivehimacall?”
Marklookedupfromthedisemboweledprinter,browfurrowed.“Huh?”
“Areyouseriouslyconsideringselling?”
Markjerkedhisheadtowardtheofficedoor.Shecloseditandcameovertohisdesk.Hewasbacktofiddlingwiththeprinter.“I’vebeenthinkingaboutitforawhile.Nowmightbeasgoodatimeasany.”
“But…nownow?”
Heshrugged.
“You’vebeensayingnoforyears.”
“That’sbeforeIgotold.”
“Stopit.”
“Ican’tevenchangeaninkcartridgeanymore.”
Sewaneesnortedandsteppedforward,takingovertheprinter.Markdroppedintohischairandsighed.“I’mtired,Swan.”
“Youknowyouneversleepwellthistimeofyear.”Hispartner,Julio,haddiedonLeapDayfifteenyearsagoafterlosingabrutalbattlewithesophagealcancer.EarlyMarchwasnevergoodforMark.
Hesighedagain.“Thisisdifferent.”
Sewaneestoleaglanceathim.“Youwanttoretire?”
Hedidn’tlookather.“DougCarreywouldpayalotforthishouse.”
Sewaneetooklongertochangethecartridgethannecessary,buyingherselfamomenttothink.“Andwhataboutthestudio?”
Marksatinthoughtfulsilence,thenabruptlyleanedforwardandbegantyping.“Iwanttoshowyousomething.”Hehuntedaround,clickingthemouse,scrutinizingthescreenthewayhealwaysdid,asifitwerethefirsttimehe’dseenacomputer.
Sewaneesnappedtheprinterbackintoplace,puttheoldcartridgeinabagforrecycling,andcamearoundthedesktopeeroverhisshoulder.
Eventually,hefoundwhathewashuntingfor.Awebpagefeaturingthecoverofabook.Undertheimage,heclickedaplaybuttonandastrongmalevoicecamethroughthespeakers.SewaneelistenedforaboutaminuteuntilMarkstoppedit.“Whatdoyouthink?”
Shestraightened.“He’sgood.Abitgeneric,maybe.Butgoodtone,goodcadence.It’saprettystraightnonfictionread.Theendofhisphrasingneedssomework,butsure.”Markwasstaringather.“What?”
“Kid.Thereisnohim.”Hepointedatthetextbelowthebookcover.“That’sarealbook,arealpublisher.Andabotnarrating.”
Sewaneestaredatthescreen.
Thiswasthemonsterunderthebed.
“Ishe…”shecorrectedherself,“it…manufacturedfromarealvoice,oracombinationofvoices,or…isitentirelysynthesized,or–”
“Doesitmatter?”
No.No,itdidn’t.Except:
“Well,theycan’tjustcopyourvoices,right?Withoutourconsent.Thatwouldbeillegal.”
“Wouldit?”
Sewaneeflungahandatthemonitor.“TocreateAIthatsoundedexactlylikeyouorme?Ofcourse!Ithastobeillegal.”
Markscoffed.“YoubetterbesavingthatJuneFrenchmoney,becausethat’sanexpensivelawsuit,gettingacourttodeterminewhatdefinesavoice.Whetherit’sevenproprietary.Peopledoimpressions.”Sewaneepushedawayfromthedesk,feelingtrapped.“Andthenonceacourtdoesdecide,”Markcontinued,blithely,“fromthatpointforwardthey’lljusttoerightuptowhateverlinewasdecidedandbeforeverintheclear.”
Sewaneeheldupahand.“Itcan’tact,though.”Shehesitated.“Canit?”
“Giveittime.”
“Accents?Characters?”
“What’sstoppingit?Look,it’scomingformefirst.Nonfictionwillbethefirsttogo.”
Shewasshakingherhead,barelylistening.“Peoplewon’twantthis.Peoplewantpeople,thehumanconnection,authenticstorytelling.”
“Dothey?Ithinkwedo,becausewecareaboutthedifference.Hell,weknowthedifference.Butthefive-year-oldwhoalreadylivesintheiriPadorGameBoyorwhatnot?”Hewavedahand.“WhatthehelldoIknowaboutthis?Ifeltoldbackwhenthisindustrymovedfromtapetodigital.AllIknowforsureisI’mofficiallyadinosaurnowandthisismymeteor.So”–heleanedbackandcrossedhishandsoverhisstomach–“I’mgonnagobuymeaswimsuit,averysmallone,andI’mgonnafindabeachwheretheonlydecisionIhavetomakeiswhatmynextcocktail’sgonnabe.Yougettofigureoutthisproblem.ButI’llsaveyoualounger.”
Sewanee’sbreathsweregrowingshallow.Markstudiedher.“Hon.It’snotlikewedidn’tknowthiswascoming.Itwasjustmorephilosophicalthanpractical.Notanymore.”
Whenshe’dfirstmetMark,firststartedinthisbusiness,they’dtalkedallthetimeaboutSewaneetakingitoverwhenhewasreadytoretire.That’swhyshe’dmovedintotheguesthouse,startedworkingforhim.Itwasanapprenticeship.Butinthelastyearortwo,talkofthefuturehaddriftedoutoftheirconversations.Whileitwastruethehandwritinghadbeenonthewall,asshecleanedeverythingelseinthestudio,she’dkeptcleaningthatoff,too.
ShemumbledsomethingandMarkcockedhiseartowardher.“What?”
Sheswallowedandrepeated,asevenlyasshecould,“Ican’tlosethis,too.Ican’t.”
Marksighedsadly,sweetly,softly.Hestoodandheldoutawrinkledhand.“Comehere,kid.”
Shewentrighttohisopenarms,pressinghercheekintohisnarrowchest.Hekissedherforehead,thenrestedhischinontopofherhairandsaid,“Everyonetalksaboutcoalminers,farmers,steelworkers.Thehorrorofautomationandwhatweowethem.Noonetalksaboutartists.”
Theystoodquietlylikethatforaminute,thehushofthehousebeyond,theparticularquietoftheirparticularworkgettingdonearoundthem.Thestoriesbeingtold,theentertainmentbeingcreated,thehumansmakingithappen.Markliftedhishead.“Doyouknowhowmuchyourmom’scondoonthatcruiseshipcosts?”
Sewaneechuckled.“Alot.”
“1928SpanishRevivalintheHollywoodHillsalot?”
“Possibly.”
“DougCarreyalot?”
“Probably.”Shelookedupathim,lettinghimseeinhereyejusthowunpalatableshefoundthisidea.“Whatapissah.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Noidea.”
Hesquintedather.“Didn’tyoutwo…?”
Sewaneegroanedandsteppedback.
Markliftedaneyebrow.“DareIask?”
“Porny.Hejackhammeredmeoffthebed.”MarkbeltedalaughasSewaneeturnedforthedoor.“Thebruiseonmyhipoutlastedtherelationship.”
“Well,maybeI’llletyougivehimaprivatetourofthehouse.ShowhimwherehecanhanghisRedSoxbanner.”Hequirkedabrow.“Wherehecanputhislobstahroll.”
Shechortledandemphaticallyshookherhead.“Pass.”Thenshetookabreath.“I’mgonnagoslipintostudio3,getsomerecordingdone.”
Whileshecould.
From:Westholme,Sarah
To:BrockMcNight
Date:March5,7:07PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
So,afterreadingyouremail,Idecidedtogoforarun,andthenIcamebackandtookaglassofwineouttomyporchandIreaditagain.Here’swhatIthink:
You’reright.
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:March5,7:34PM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Youshouldhavetakenalongerrun.
HERPHONEVIBRATED,skitteringacrossthenightstand.Sewaneeliftedherblearyheadandgrabbedatit.Therewasonlyonenumbershe’dprogrammedtobeabletocallduringherpre-setDoNotDisturbhours.“Hello?”shecroaked.
“Helpme.”
Shecameawakeinstantly.“Areyouokay?”
“No.”Blah’svoicewasadamantlyedgy.“Marvislate.I’vebeenwaitingforhours.He’sterriblylateandIdon’tknowwhereheis!Whereishe?”
Sewaneeboltedupright,sheetstwistedaroundherlegs.“Okay,takeadeepbreath.I’llfindMarv.Everything’sfine.”
“Everythingisn’tfine,Bitsy!Stopit,juststopit!”
“BlahBlah,it’sSewanee.Listentome,it’s–”
“No,youlisten!MarvleftmehereandIhavetobeinWestwoodandit’salreadytoolate!Marilyn’sgonnakillme.”Eachfragmentofthoughtwasanotherloghurledontoafire.
Sewaneedidn’tknowwhattodo.Shelookedatherbedsideclock.2:14A.M.“Blah–”
“You’renogoodtome!You’renofuckinghelp,Bitsy!I’llhandleit!”
“I’llcomegetyou,staythere.”
“No!”
Thelinewentdead.
Throughthebloodpoundinginherears,SewaneecalledSeasonsandspokewiththenightnurse,askedhimtoplease,immediately,checkonBlah,andthenwaitedwhilehedid.Eachsecondfeltlikeanhour.Shecouldn’tsitstill.Shefoughtherwayoutofbed,startedpullingclotheson,thenstopped,notknowingwhatwascomingnext
Fiveminuteslater,thenurse’svoicewasback,informingherBlahhadbeenstandinginfrontofthewindowinherroom,holdingtheentirephone–cradleandall–nolongeragitated,justconfused.Sohe’dhelpedherbackintobed.Hesaidhe’dcheckonherthroughoutthenight.Sewaneethankedhimprofuselyandhungup.
Shaken,shewenttothekitchenandputthekettleon,pulledoutherTea-For-Oneset,andhadagoodtwo-minutecry.Thenshesat,drankherchamomile,andthought.Andthought.Andthought.
TheTea-For-Oneusuallygroundedher.Reassuredhershewasfinealone.Buttonight,inthislivingroomthatmightsoonnolongerbehers,aftertalkingtoagrandmotherwhowasslippingfurtheraway,thiskindofalonewasnotfine.
Shepulledoutherphone,andthoughsheknewhewouldn’tseeituntilmorning,texted:
Thentherearethethingsweloseandcan’tgetback.Idon’tknowwhattodoaboutthatone.
Shesentit,re-readit,andadded:
Goodmorning.
Shesetherphonedownandsipped.
Inthedimnessoftheguesthouse,litonlybythefarawaylightsofasleepingcitybeyondtheslidingglassdoor,thefaceofherphoneilluminated.
BROCK:
Tookalittlemidnightrun?
SEWANEE:
Noooooyourphoneison?!I’msosorry!!You’reawake?Whyareyouawake?Areyouawake?
BROCK:
NoI’msleep-texting.
SEWANEE:
I’msososorry.
BROCK:
It’sokay,really.
Whatareyoudoingup?
SEWANEE:
Couldn’tsleep.
BROCK:
Youknowwhat’sgoodforthat?
SEWANEE:
UghIdon’thaveinnuendoinmerightnow.
BROCK:
Nowonderyoucan’tsleep.TellInnuendotogetbusy.
SEWANEE:
Goodone.ButIcan’t.Seriously.
BROCK:
Okay,seriously?Iwasgoingtosayaudiobooks.
Ihavefanswholistentomyvoiceinbedtofallasleep.
SEWANEE:
Thatis…notwhatthey’redoing.
BROCK:
Still.Icouldtryreadingyouastory?Seeifithelps?
SEWANEE:
Idon’tthinkyourkindofstorywillhelp.
BROCK:
KGoodnightthen.
SEWANEE:
Night.Thanksforthechat.Truly.
Sewaneefoundthatshewassmiling.Thetearsweregone.Theteawasgone.Sheslippedoffthesofaandwentintoherbedroom.Shesetherphoneonthenightstand,crawledbackintobed,andhopedBlahwouldbeokay,wouldgotosleep,wouldlethersleep.Shetookarestfulbreath.ShewantedtobeabletoclosehereyesandthinkofBrock,nothergrandmother.Butbeforeshecould,herphoneilluminatedagain,droppingthatoh-nofeelingbackintoherstomach.Shesnatcheditup.
Avoicememo.
FromBrock.
Shepressedplay.
Hisvoicesoundedlikeearlymorning.Itwassoft-edged,asifhewerecloseenoughtowarrantawhisper.Therewasnopreamble.Hejustread.
Sherecognizeditinstantly.ItwasGoodnightMoon
Inthegreatgreenroom
Therewasatelephone…
Nowsheclosedhereyes.Sherestedherheadonherpillowandherphoneresteditselfonherchest.
Shelistened.
Afterhespokethefinalrefrain,therewasamomentoflingeringsilence.Shewaitedforhimtosaysomethingelse.Shewantedhimtosaysomethingelse.Tosignoff,perhaps.Tochuckle,maybe.Shewantedmore.
Buttherewasnothingelse.Therecordingstopped.Inamomentofgreediness,shethoughtaboutplayingitagain.Butshedidn’tmove.Therewasnoneed.Shewassatisfied.Beyondsatisfied.BeyondGoodnightMoon
Shetexted:
You.
Hereplied:
Again.You.
***
March6
SEWANEE:
Forfuturereference,whattimezoneareyouin?
BROCK:
EST.
?
SEWANEE:
SonexttimeIhaveanexistentialinsomniouscrisisIcantimemytextsbetter.
BROCK:
Insomnious:theRomangodoflatenightthought.
I’manacolytemyself.
SEWANEE:
AndfromwhenceintheESTdoththeacolytehail?
BROCK:
NewestofYork.
Andwhence…yourth…hailest?
SEWANEE:
LolstillliveinL.A.
BROCK:
Soclose!
SEWANEE:
OnlyifLosAngelesisstilljustabove96thstreet.
(Jokesasideforthemoment:Ireallyappreciatedthebedtimestorylastnight.)
BROCK:
(Jokesaside,mypleasure)
L.A.,huh?Interesting.
SEWANEE:
ThefirsttimeinrecordedhistoryaNewYorkerhaseversaidthat.
BROCK:
Gottamakenice,I’llbethereinafewdays.
SEWANEE:
Oh!Wait,fortheAudies???
BROCK:
PETENO.
SEWANEE:
Hmmm
BROCK:
Hmmm?
SEWANEE:
Justhmmm
BROCK:
Wellhmmmmback.
From:BrockMcNight
To:Westholme,Sarah
Date:March7,1:57AM
Subject:RE:CASANOVA,LLC–andhello!
Hello!
So,myacolyticselfhasbeenthinking.Iknowhowyoufeelabouttalkingonthetelewhatever.Understood!Newthought:wedon’ttalk.
Wemeet.
Ouroptions,asIseethem:
1.Meetfacetoface.Wethen:
a.Keepwalking.
b.Standthere.
c.Speakandscrewitallup.
Andthenwe:
2.Decidetoneverseeeachotheragainand:
a.GobacktotextingOR
b.Toucheachothertomakesurewe’rereal,thenneverseeeachotheragain
3.Decidetoseeeachotheragain:
a.Rightthenandthere
b.Anothertime
Iftheansweris3.athenwe:
i.Addinthetalking,or
ii.Keepstaringateachotherforawhile.
What’stheworstthatcouldhappen?Thingsstayastheyare.Wefinishtheproject,ofcourse,beprofessional,ofcourse,becourteous,morethanofcourse,andetc,etc,etc,ofcourse.
Wehavetonsofquestions.Don’tyouwantanswers?
Wehavethechancetoputthistobed.Whateverbedthatis.Maybeit’safriendbed.That’sfine.It’llbeabunkbed.Youcanhavethetop.
OK.Insomnioushathspoken.
Me
SEWANEEWASINabooth,longafteralltheotherstudioshademptiedofpeople,attemptingtogetaheadonherrecordingandtryingnottothinkaboutBrock’slateste-mail–succeedingatneither–whenherphonelitupwithacall.
Sheimmediately,ifcautiously,pickedup.“Blah?”
“Dollface!”
“Everythingallright?”
“Rightasrain!Whatareyouuptotoday?”
“Justrecording.”Sewaneereadjustedherselfinthebooth,removingherheadphonesandcrackingthedoorforsomeair.“Howareyoufeeling?”
“Oh,fitasafiddle!”
Rightasrain.Fitasafiddle.Suspicious,Sewaneetriedagain,“Yousureeverything’sokay?”
“Can’tanoldladycallhergranddaughter?Thatacrimenow?”Definitelysomethinginhervoice,righttherebeneaththeteasing.Tentativenesslikeanundertow.Sewaneesensedthepullofanimpendingconversation.Therewasapauseaseachwaitedfortheothertostartit.
Blahfinallysaid,“Readanygoodbookslately?”
“Thatsupposedtobefunny?”
“Ididn’thearyoulaugh,sono.”
WhichmadeSewaneegenuinelylaugh,whichmadeBlahlaugh.Butwhenitsubsided,theundertowremained.SoSewaneeasked,“Doyouremembercallingmelastnight?”
Blahsighed.“No.Well,sortof.Goddamnit.I’msorry,Doll.”
“There’snothingtobesorryfor.”
“Tellmewhathappened.Iwanttoknow.”Thoughshesoundedasifshedidn’t,notreally.
Sewaneeleftthebooth.Sheneededspacetobreathe,tothink,totalk.“Youwereupset.Andfrustrated.Yousaidyouwerelateforsomething.YouthoughtIwasBitsy.”
“Well,shit,”BlahBlahsaidthinly
Sewaneesatonthefloor,backagainsttheoutsidewallofthebooth,andtuckedherkneesintoherchest.“Areyouawareof…doyouknowwhenit’shappening?”
“Notaclue.There’ssomekindofbeforeandafter,butthemiddle?Blackasnight.”Sheexhaled.“Ihateit,Doll.IneedaprescriptionforDumbPills.”
Sewaneesnorted.“Idon’tthinkthat’swhatthey’recalled.”
“Well,that’sthegeneric.”
Theybothchuckledatthat.Then,therewassuchanextensivepauseSewaneewassureshe’dlosther.ThatthenextthingBlahwouldsaywas,“DidyouseeMitzi’sface-lift?”
“BettyLouMcCarthylivedinthehollers.”
Dammit.Sewaneehatedbeingright.“Who’sthat?”
“Schoolfriend.AndifIwasouttherewhenthefogrolledin…Iwasn’tgoingnowhere.Happenedinaninstant.LikeGodpouredgravyovereverything.”
Maybeshewaswrong.MaybeBlahhadn’tveeredasfarofftrackasshe’dthought.
“Youcouldbarelyseeyourhandinfrontofyourface.Andshapesyouknewwereoutthere–theoldoak,themailbox,herdaddy’struck–allthosecomfortswouldget…sinister.Theymovedaround.Weren’twheretheyweresupposedtobe.”
Sewaneedidn’tdareinterject.
“Itfeelssomethinglikethatwhenitstarts.Thenpeoplearebornoutofthatfog.SomeIrecognize,someIdon’t.Everything…shifts.”
“Ican’timagine.”
“It’skindalikebeingonasoundstage,doingabigdancenumber.Stagehandstakeupabackdropandloweranother.Adeskfliesinonwheels,asodafountaindisappears,andnowthere’sadoor,andincomesGeneandwe’retappingawayinanofficebuildinginsteadofadiner.”
“God,”Sewaneemurmuredquietly,notwantingtobreakthisspellofclarity.
“Andthen…well,uh…whatthehellwasI…dancing,wasn’tI?”
Sewaneeswallowed.“Youweretalkingabouteverythingshiftingaroundyou,whatitfeelslikeinyourmind?Didyouwanttosaysomethingelseaboutit?”
“Oh,I’mjustrambling.”Blahclearedherthroatandhervoicewascrisperwhenshesaid,“Anyway,thisisalltosay,Doll…”Sewaneeheardtherustlingofpaperontheotherend.“IthinkI’mgoingtoneedmorehelp.Thatitmightbetimetotakethenextstep.BeforeIdon’tknowwherethestepis.”
Sewaneehadn’tknownitwaspossibletofeelreliefandshockatthesametime.Shesatforward.“Youdon’thavetoworryaboutanyofthat.Soonyou’regoingtohaveanotherplace.AtSeasons.You’llbejustdownthehall,inmemorycare,okay?Morehelpwhenyouneedit,butyou’llstillhaveMitziandBirdieandAmandaand,ofcourse,me.You’llhaveme,whetheryoulikeitornot,”shejoked.
Achargedkindofsilencefell,liketheexpectantmomentrightafterthepowergoesout,waitingforittocomebackon.Sewaneeheardpaperrustlingagain.
“Listentome,Doll.Iappreciateyoumorethanyou’lleverknow.AndIloveyousomuch.AndIwantyoutodosomethingforme.”
“Anything.”
“Promiseme.”
“Ipromise.Anything.”
“Good.Whenthenextstepcomes,youarenottovisitmeanymore.You–”
Sewaneejerked.“Whatareyou–”
“Letmefinish.Novisits.Nophonecalls.Youarenottobeanypartofthis.”
“Ofwhat?”
“Myend.”
AllofSewanee’sbloodrushedtoherhead.“I’mcomingover.You’regoingtosaythistomyface–”
“No!No,you’renot!I’vethoughtthisthrough,thoughtitallout.IwroteitdownsoIwouldn’tforget.”Thepapershooknearthephone.“I’vedecided.It’sdone.Now,enoughofallthat.IwanttotellyouaboutBirdie.”
“Idon’twanttofuckinghearaboutBirdie,whatareyou–”
“Wearenotdiscussingthis.”Blah’svoicecrackedandSewanee’seyefilledwithtearsasiftheysharedabody.“EndingsaremessyandI’llbedamnedifyouremembermeasamess.”
Sewaneewasonherfeet.“ThatisnothowI’llrememberyou!I’llrememberyouatthepoolandcruisingaroundintheOldsandtryingonclothesandsmokinganddrinkingandswearingandlaughingandrollingyoureyesatMitzi.”
“No,trustme.You’llremembertheend.”
“Stopsayingtheend!”Sewaneewasshouting.“Shutupabouttheend!”
“Don’ttellyourgrandmothertoshutup!”Blahsputtered.
“Shutup!Shutup!Shutup!”
AfterasilenceinwhichSewaneefeltlikeallhernerveendingshadbeenthrownintoablender,Blahlaughed.Andkeptlaughing.Sewaneecouldn’tmakeherfacesmilethewayshewantedto.
ThenBlahstartedtocry.Tohearthatandnotbeabletotouchhercouldbarelybeendured.Eventually,Blahspoke.“It’sjustsosad,Doll.Don’tmakeussaygoodbye.Ican’tbearit.Ineedyoutounderstandthat.Leave’emlaughing,remember?Please.”
ThetearsfellfatlydownSewanee’scheek.“Youcouldaskanythingofme.Literallyanythingbutthis.”
“Dollface.Please.”
ThreedistinctthoughtscametoSewaneesimultaneously:
Tellherwhatshewantstohear.
Argueuntilsheforgetswhatshe’sasking.
AndHenrysaying,shewouldsee.ThatshecouldtakeherturncaringforBlah,ifshewanted,but,trusthim,she’dsee.
Sewaneehadtogatherallthepiecesofherselfthathadsplinteredoffbeforeshecouldspeakagain.“Ican’tdoit,”shesaid.“ButIwill.”
AsmuchasSewaneedidn’twanttoadmitit,Blahhadapoint.Didn’tapersonhavetherighttodecidehowtheywantedtoberemembered?Anddidn’tsheoweittohergrandmothertohonorthat?Intheend,whatthehellelsewastheretoleavebehind,really,butmemories?
ShedecidedshewouldkeepherpromiseaslongasBlahrememberedtoholdhertoit.Sheknew,atacertainpoint,thatwouldnolongerbethecase,andthenSewaneewoulddowhatevershebelievedwasrightforherself.Thiswasfair.Tobothofthem.
Blahexhaled.Shesaid,“Iloveyou,Doll,”whichechoedthroughSewaneeasifithadbeenshoutedfromamountaintop.
“Iwanttoseeyou,”Sewaneemurmured.
“Who’sstoppingyou?”
Sewaneedroppedbackdowntothefloor,astrangledlaughescapingher.“IsweartoGod.”Sheshookherexhaustedhead.“Oneofthesedays,Alice,bang,zoom,you’regoingtothemoon.”
“DidIevertellyoumyJackieGleasonstory?”
Sewaneesmiled.Shelovedthatstory.“No.”
Blahtoldit.Thenasked,“Areyoucomingtohappyhourthisweek?”
“Notsureyet.Butwe’dalreadydecidedI’dgetreadyfortheAudiesatyourplace.Doesthatstillwork?Thevenueisaroundthecorner.”
“Ooh,whenisit?”
“Wednesdaynight.”
“What’stoday?”
“Sunday.”
“Andwhen’stheevent?”
“Inthreedays.Wednesdaynight.”
“Betyou’vetoldmethat.”
“Afewhundredtimes.”
“Isthatall?MaybeI’mgettingbetter.Talktomorrow.Loveyou.”
“Loveyoutodeath.”
“Hey,don’trushme.”
TheybothlaughedandSewaneerememberedsomething.“Wait,whatdidyouwanttotellmeaboutBirdie?”
“Huh?”
“You’dsaidyouwantedtotalkaboutBirdie.”
Blahcluckedhertongue.“Oh,right.Shedied.”
“What?!”
“Blessherheart.”
Sewaneedidn’twanttodoubther,but,“Areyousure?”
“Mymindbringsdeadpeoplebacktolife,Dollface,nottheotherwayaround.”
“Birdie,notMitzi?”
“Mitzi?Mitziwilloutlivetheearth.”
“When?”
“Oh,Christ,what’stoday?Yesterdaymaybe.”
“How?”
“Wentinhersleep,apparently.Luckylady.”
“OhmyGod.”
“Well,shewasold.”
“Shewasn’tthatold!”
“Don’tbefooled,she’dhadalotofworkdone.Doll,thatnewgirlishere,I’vegottogotodinner.”
“Okay,okay,go,Iloveyou.”
“Loveyou.”Shemadekissingnoisesintothereceiverandhungup.
Sewaneecontinuedtositthere,onthefloor,leaningagainstthebooth.
Thenshebegancryingagain.Cryingforherself,sure,forBlah,ofcourse,butmostly,itseemed,forawomanwhosegreatestaccomplishmentwasatwo-ingredientdipherboyslikedfortyyearsago.WhyhadthissunkitsclawssodeeplyintoSewanee?Theuttercallousnessofanunremarkablelifeunceremoniouslyended.
Shehadtostop.Shemadeherselfstop.Shecouldn’tcry;shehadtorecord.Ifshecontinuedcrying,she’dhavetowaitanhourforhervoicetoclear.Shedidn’thaveanhour.Shedidn’thaveanytimetowaste.
Shestoodshakilyandtookupherphone.Shewenttohermessages,scrolleddowntoBrock,secondonlytoAdaku,becauseAdakuhadtextedwhileshe’dbeenonthephone:
ADAKU:
OKupdate:they’refocusedonwrappingupthedealwiththemalelead.Surprisesurprise.Butthenthey’llgettoyourroleandhopefullysendanofferearlynextweek.OkaytoletMansehandleitforyou?
Sewaneegavethemessageathumbs-upandwenttoherchainwithBrock.
SEWANEE:
So…Igotyourmenu.Sorry,email.
WhenexactlyareyougoingtobeinLA?
BROCK:
Ah,yes,would’vebeengoodinfotoinclude.
Arriveearlymorningonthe10th,leavelatemorningofthe11th
SEWANEE:
???
BROCK:
Iknow.WishIcouldstickaround,butmyrecordingschedulebackhereispunishing.IhavetwoprioritiesinL.A.:Meetingsonthe10th(sadlyincludingdinner)andmeetingyouanytimeafterthat.
Oops.Alsohaveabreakfastmeetingonthe11th.
SEWANEE:
????
Sowhat,we’remeetingatmidnight?WhoamI,Cinderella?
BROCK:
Let’smakeit11.Don’twantanyPrinceCharmingexpectations.
Forreal,I’mSOsorry.
SEWANEE:
It’sokay.Itwasalastminuteidea.MeetmeatMiguel’sinBurbankat11pmonthe10th.
BROCK:
Lemmecheckmyschedule.
SEWANEE:
IsweartoPete.
BROCK:
JkjkI’llbethere.
SEWANEE:
I’llbecomingfromtheAudiessomightbealittlelate.
BROCK:
Bringallmyawardswithyou.
SEWANEE:
Sorry,I’llhavemyhandsfullwithmyown.
I’llbetheoneintheballgown.
BROCK:
Thatmakestwoofus.
Forty-sevenminuteslater:
SEWANEE:
Arewereallydoingthis?
BROCK:
We’rereallydoingthis.
SHEWASRUNNINGlate.Thedishwasherinthestudiohadinevitablydecidedtostopworkingthatafternoonandtraffichadbeenunusuallybad.HerintentionhadbeentohaveanearlydinnerwithBlahbeforegettingreadyfortheevent,butshe’dmisseddinnerandarrivedwithlessthananhourtomakeherselfpresentable.Shewasfrazzled,rushed,andcouldnotstopthinkingaboutthefactthat,infivehours,shewasgoingtomeetBrock.
ShestoodinfrontofBlah’ssink,leaningintothemirror,tryingtocatchthelightproperly.Blahstoodbehindher,proppedagainsttheslidingdoorofthesmallcloset,whereSewanee’sballgownhung.
“Damnfluorescents,”Blahmuttered.“Thegoodlorddidn’tintendformakeuptobeappliedunderfluorescents.”
“Icanmanage.Doesn’thavetobecamera-ready.”
“Whatlipstickdoyouhave?”
Sewaneeduginherbagandhandedittoher.Sheinspecteditandnodded.Theysaid,inunison,“It’llbringoutthepurpleinthedress.”
Whenshewasakid,SewaneewouldwatchBlahBlahputonhermakeup,sittingathervanityinherroomatBitsy’shouse.MarilynhadbeenamascaraandChapStickkindofmom.Theslightesthintofsomeplumeyeshadowforspecialoccasions.Blah,ontheotherhand,neverleftthehousewithoutafullfaceon.Shehadlearnedmakeupasacraft,fromthestudiomakeupartists,andshe’dpasseditalldowntoSewaneethewaysomegrandmotherspasseddownrecipes.
Shefellintoamemoryofhergrandmother’ssmilingfacebesidehersinthemirror.ThesmellofnicotinefingersonherchinandthepeppermintAltoidinBlah’smouthtocoverit.Blahboinkingheronthenosewithablushbrushandsaying,“Dollface.”Likeananointing.Acoronation.Acurse?
Blahgruntedasshemovedaway.“WantaMallomar?”
“I’mgood,thanks.”
AsSewaneeappliedthelipstick,sheheardBlahmurmur,“Whatintheworld…”andSewaneepokedherheadaroundthecorner.Blahwasstandingnexttoherbed,staringdownatthenightstand.
“What?”
“They’regone.”
“Youprobablyatethem.”
“Luckily,it’snotsummer.Icanstillstockup.”
Sewaneewentbacktothemirror.“Ineverunderstoodthat.”
“Theydon’tshipinthesummermonths.Nestléwasafraidthechocolatewouldmelt.Norefrigerationtrucks.”
“Butthatwasalongtimeago.”
“Overahundredyears.Canyoubelieveit?Thatcookie’sbeenaroundlongerthanme.Youstillcan’tgetthemduringthesummer,though.NowIthinkit’samarketingploy.Supplyanddemand.Extortionistsonsofbitches.DoyouknowtheymakeitinCanada,butyoucan’tgetitinCanada?TheyhavethisotherthingcalledaWhippet.Supposedtobethesame,butIdon’tbelieveit.Ithinktheyevenputsomekindofjaminthem.Thebastards.”
SewaneecameouttowhereBlahwasstanding.“Youknow,forsomeonewho’slosingit,it’sridiculouswhatyouremember.”
“No,it’sMallomars.Theonetrueloveofmylife.Besidesyou.”Blahturnedtoher.“Now,youareasight!Perfection.”Thatsaid,sherubbedacrookedfingerunderSwan’seye,rightatthelashline.“Youalwaysforgettoblend.”
“WithoneeyeIonlyhavehalfthepracticenow.”
Blahpshawed.“You’regorgeous,Dollface.ThemostgorgeousgirlIknow.”
Sewaneegroanedtheatricallyasshewalkedbacktothecloset.Shetookthedressoffthehangerandslippedintoit.Shesecuredhereyepatchoverherupdoandgaveherselfagoodonce-overinthemirror.Notbad.Intruth,theawardswerenotwhatshewasdressingfortonight.Sewaneetriedtobreathethroughheranxiety.AndSpanx.
“WherearemyMallomars?”sheheardfromtheothersideofthewall.
“Youatethem,”Sewaneerepeated,comingaround.“We’llgetsomemoretomorrow.Remember,it’sstillcoldout,so–”
Blahshookherhead.“Theywererighthere!”Shepointedatthenightstand.Hervoicehadgrownanxious.“Someonestolethem!Idon’tlikethenewnursehere.Shecomesinwhenevershefeelslikeitandwatchesme.IbetshestoletheMallomars.”
“Shedidn’tsteal–”
“Iwanttogohome.”
Sewaneetookhergrandmother’shandsandtriedtocatchhereye.“Blah,youarehome.Thisisyourhome.Andyouhaveawonderfulhome.Everyoneherecaresaboutyou.You’rejustforgettingyoufinishedyourcookies,that’sall.”
Blahcalmed,butpointedatthenightstand.“Ikeepthemrightthere.”
“Iknow,but…”Sewaneelookedwhereshewaspointing.
Therewasaglossy8×10foldercoveredinstockphotosofelderlypeoplelaughing.Atthetop,thewords:SUNNYSIDE–ABETTERCARESOLUTION.Shestilled.“Wheredidthatcomefrom?”
ButBlahwaswalkingtowardthekitchenette,muttering,“Wherearethey?”
Sewaneepickedupthefolderandopenedit.Inside,therewerepagesofinformationandstats,marketingmaterialsfor–whatwasnowobvious–analternatelivingfacility.Sheclosedthefolder,confused,aforebodingsenseofangerrisingupinsideher.Andthenhereyelandedonthedarkboldprintatthebottomrightoftheidyllicfrontcover:MEDICAIDACCEPTED.
Sewanee’smouthtightened.“WasDadhere?”Blahdidn’tanswer.She’dsatdowninherrockerandgonesilent.
Therewasaknockontheopendoor.“Hello?It’smeagain.Iforgotsomething,butIalsogotyou–”
HenrysteppedintotheroomjustasSewaneeturnedaroundtofacehim.Hestoppedinhistracks.“Oh.Hi.”Heheldupafamiliaryellowbox.“IateherlastMallomar,soIboughthermore.”
Sewaneeheldupthefolder.“Oh.Hi.Youwanttoexplainthis?”Hervoicewasadmirablycalm.
Henrysawwhatsheheld.Shiftedhisweight.Tookabreath.“Options.”
“Options!?”Hervoicewasnotadmirablycalm.
Heexhaledandshookhishead.“MayIhaveitback?Please?”
“No,youmaynothaveitback.Please,thankyou,oranythingelse.”
“Sewanee,youhavenoright–”
“Ihavenoright?Whatareyoutalkingabout?Ihaveeveryright.I’mpayingforthis!”
Henryinclinedhisheadathismother.“Shewantstomove.”
“Shewants–what?!”
“Wediscussedit.She’shappytomove.”
Sewaneescoffed.“IthoughtitwastheMallomars.NowIknowwhyshe’sreallyupset!”
Herolledhiseyes,actuallyrolledhiseyesather.“I’msimplydoingwhat’sbestforallconcerned,includingyou.Evenifyou’retoodamnstubborntoseeit.”
Whilehewastalking,SewaneeturnedherattentiontoBlahandsaid,overhim,“Whatdidhesaytoyou?Whatdidhetellyou?”
Hergrandmotherstaredblanklybackandshookherhead,littleshakes,closetoshivering.ShepointedtotheboxHenrywasholding.“Theretheyare!”
Sewaneewalkedovertothewindow.Therewereextrasafetylatchesonit,whichnormallymadeitchallengingtoopen.ButragehasapropulsivequalityandwithinmomentsSewaneehadmanageditandtheSunnysidefolderhadtakenflight.
Henryhuffedsomethingthatsoundedlikeachuckle.“Yourflairforthedramaticdoesn’tchangeanything,youknowthat,right?”
Shemarchedovertohim.Inherhighheelstheywereeyetoeye.“Stayoutofthis.ItoldyouI’mtakingcareofit.”Shesaidthisinthelowestpartofhervoice.
“YoualsotoldmeIshouldvisither.”Thesmugness.Thesmugness!
“You’renothelpinganyonebutyourself.Allyou’vemanagedtodoisconfuseher.Hurther.Hurtme,”shehissed.“Don’tyougetthat?Don’tyoucare?!”Sheyelledthelastpart.
Henryrepliedinhispatientprofessorvoice,“MyproblemisIcaretoomuch.AndIwon’twatchyoudothistoyourself.Ortoher.”
“Dowhat?Takecareofher?Protecther?Loveher?”
“Attheexpenseofyourownfuture!Thisisawasteofyourmoneyandforwhat?Formymother,whoIcareaboutmorethanyouknow,butwhoisnotgoingtoknowthedifferencebetweenSunnysideandSeasons.She’llthinkthey’rethesamethingbecausetheybothbeginwithanS.”
Sewaneetookamomenttoregroup.Tobemoreadult.Totampdowntheurgetohithim.“Youthinkthat’sfunny?Sheissittingrightthere,shecanhearyou.God–”Shegroaned.“ThisispreciselywhyI’mmakingthisdecisionwithoutyou.”
“Andweallknowhowwellthingsturnoutwhenyoumakedecisionswithnoregardforyourfuture.”
Thesnapinsideherwasinstantaneous,asifhehadsteppedonatwig.“ITWASANACCIDENT!ANDIBLAMEMYSELFFORITEVERYFUCKINGDAY!FEELBETTER?”shescreamed,apartofhervoiceshehadn’tusedinyears.Shecouldn’tevenbesurehemeantthatdecision;heseemedtohateeverydecisionshe’devermade,everyonethathadexcludedhim.Alltheregretsthatliveddormantinsideher,cumulativelycoiledatthebaseofherheart,hehadthepowertoawakenwiththeslightestprovocation.
Henryvisiblysteppedback.“That’snotwhatI–”
Shestalkedforward,gotrightinhisface.“Whenyoudecidedtofuckyourstudent,whodidyouconsult?Howmuchwereyouthinkingaboutthefuture?Aboutanyoneotherthanyourselfish,self-absorbed”–shesputtered–“self?Thatdecisionturnoutwellforyou,Dad?Iscarredmyself.Howmanypeopledidyouscar?”
Hewassilent.
Sheknewhe’dneverbeenhitthishard,certainlynotbyher.Anditenragedherfurtherthatthehurtbloomingonhisfaceonlymadeherwanttoreachoutandgrabhim,holdhim,crywithhim.JesusChrist,whatwasitwiththetwoofthem?
Shedidn’thavetimeforthis.ShehadtogettotheAudies.ShehadtogettoBrock.SheleftHenrystandingtherewhileshegatheredherpurse,herphone,hercontrol,allwhilesaying,“Ifyoukeepatthis,Iwillneverletyounearmeeveragain.Everagain.”Shewentbacktohim,grabbedtheMallomarsoutofhishands.“Anddon’teatherfuckingMallomars!”ShewalkedovertoBlahandhandedthemtoher.
Blahsmiledasthoughseeingaphotoofalong-lostfriend.“Iknewtheywerearoundheresomewhere.”
“Iloveyou,Blah,seeyoutomorrow.”Shewalkedpastherfatherwithoutacknowledginghim.Asshereachedthedoor,hesaidhernameandhisvoicecracked.Shestopped.Shewantedtofacehimoncemore,butwasafraidifshedid,shewouldloseit.Soshesaid,tothehallway,“Thisisn’toneofthebaddecisions,Dad.”
Asshelefttheroom,sheheardBlahBlahsayshakily,inthestrongestTennesseetwangshe’deverheardfromher,“Well.Ain’twejustblue-ribbonpeople?”
THEAUDIESCEREMONYwasbeingheldatafive-hundred-seattheaterlessthanamilefromSeasonsandyetHenryhaddeactivatedSewanee’ssenseofdirection.Fuming,mutteringtoherself,shefast-walkedtotheeventonlytolookuptwentyminuteslaterandfindherselfinaneighborhood.Shedugherphoneoutoftheballgown’spocketandbroughtupamap.Afteronemoremisdirection,landingherinagrocerystoreparkinglot,shearrivedatthetheater.
Shehadmissedcocktailhour.Shereallyhadn’twantedtomisscocktailhour.AdoublevodkasodawouldhavedefinitelyhelpednumbthethrobofherfeetinherheelsandtheHenry-sizedpaininherass.Butpeoplewerealreadybeingusheredintotheauditoriumandshewassweptintothecurrentofhugs,cheek-kisses,andhand-squeezes.Onceinside,shewaspluckedoutofthecrowdandusheredtothefrontrowwheretheotherpresentersweresitting.
Shecouldn’tfocusontheceremony.Noideawhatwasgoingon,whowasspeaking,whowaswinning,nothing.Sheheardhernamebeingreadasanomineeinhercategoryandnumblyclappedwhensomeoneelsewon.Abouthalfwaythroughtheceremony(asfarasshecouldtell,anyway),Alice,whowassittingnexttoher,leanedoverandwhispered,“Ithinkyou’reup,”andinclinedherheadtowardaneventcoordinatorstandinginthewingswavingatSewanee.
“Thanks,”Sewaneemuttered,butcontinuedtositthereforafewmoreseconds.Then,asthecoordinator’swavinggrewmorefrantic,itregistered,andSewaneewasinstantlyup,trippingonthefronthemofhergown.Alicereachedoutasteadyinghand,butSewaneestabilizedandbombedbackstage.
Oncethere,hertrainingkickedin.Shetookafewquickhuffsofbreath.Watchedthecoordinatorgiveherthefive-fingercountdown.
Shewalkedtothepodiumlikeabeautypageantcontestant,heldmomentarilyforapplause,andreadwithgracefulauthorityfromthecleartelepromptertoherleft,makingsuretoaddresstherightsideoftheroomwheneverpossible.Atotalprofessional.
“Everyyear,thisbodyrecognizesoneperson’scontributiontotheworldofaudiostorytelling.Thisyear,Iamdeeplyhonored–bittersweetthoughitmaybe–topresentthelifetimeachievementaward,posthumously,toJuneFrench.”TheaudienceapplaudedandSewaneejoinedinatthepodium.
“JunewasaUSATodaybestsellingauthorandRITAwinnermanytimesover.ShesoldherfirstnoveltoHarlequinattwenty-seven.Lastyear,sadly,shepassedawayatthetoo-youngageofsixty-six.Duringthoseyearsshewasoneofourmostprolificwriters,havingpennedseventy-eightnovelsandsoldoverfifty-sixmillioncopiesworldwideintwenty-threelanguages.Inthelastsevenyearsofherlife,Junebecameapioneerintheaudiobookindustry.Shewasaproducer,anentrepreneur,andacreativeforcewhobrokedownbarriersofgenre,production,and,yes,sales.Manyofthepeopleinthisroomhavebenefittedfromherworkinourindustry.
“InanowcanonicalinterviewwithCosmopolitanmagazine,whenaskedaboutherworkinaudio,Junesaid,‘Thehumanvoiceisthethreadthatconnectsonesoultoanother.It’sasinnateasthemurmurofyourmother’svoiceasyounursedatherbreastandaspotentasyourfather’swordsofapproval.Itistheconduitofallhumanexpression.Itisaselementalaslifeitselfbecauseithelpsusloveandbeloved.’Shelovedaudiobooks,shelovedus,andtonightwehonorher.Acceptingthisawardonherbehalfisthepersonwhoknewherbest,hernephew.So,let’swelcomehimheretonight,intoourcommunity,withthesameloveJuneshowedus.”
Sewaneesteppedbackfromthepodiumandclappedalongwiththeaudience,scanningtheroom.Shedidn’tseeanyoneapproachingthestage.Theapplausefadedandtherewasaslighttitterintheroomastheaudiencebegansearchingforhim.Someoneshoutedsomethingfromthebackoftheauditorium.“What?”Sewaneecalledout.
“He’sinthebathroom,”camethemutedreply.
Thecrowdlaughed.Sewaneechuckledandshrugged.“Well,inthemeantime,”shebracedanelbowonthepodiumandleaneddownintothemic,“willtheownerofawhiteToyotaCorollapleasecometothesecuritydesk?Youraudiobookisstillplaying.”Thecrowdchuckled.Shecontinuedtovamp.“Hey,howmanynarratorsdoesittaketoscrewinalightbulb?”Shecuppedahandaroundherearandtheaudiencecalledout,“Howmany!”
“Two.Onetodoitandonetotellyoutheynarratedaseventy-hourbookonthehistoryofthelightbulbonceanddidyouknowthatThomasEdison–”Sewaneedroppedherheadtoherchestandsnored.Theaudiencelaughinglygroaned.“Onetodoitandeveryoneelsetosayweshouldbegettingroyaltiesforit.”Thismadetheaudienceclap.Sheadoptedatheatricalgrimace.“Okay,nowIhavetogotothebathroom!”Biglaugh.“No,Ireallydo!”Biggerlaugh.“Powerofsuggestion–”
“Herehecomes!”someoneshoutedfromtheback.
“OhthankGod.”Shetentedahandabovehereyetoseepastthelightsbearingdownonher.
Asleekshadowdasheddownthestepsoftheauditorium,practicallyjogging.ThecrowdcheeredandSewaneejoinedin,watchinghimreachthestage,headbowed,boundingupthestairs.Heturnedtothecrowdandmadeashowoflookingdownathisflyinhorror,mimedquicklyzippingit.Thecrowdhootedandhetookasmall,mocking,self-deprecatingbow.Heturned,headingdirectlyforthepodium,forher,andthespotlightcaughthisface.Theireyesmet.
Andtheywereinacarcrash.
Glassshattered,steelcrunched,theywerespunaround,andaround,andaround.Likearouletteball.
Hispaceslowedandherheartsurged.HeapproachedherashehadintheLasVegassuite.
Deliberate.
Powerful.
Inevitable.Part4
Itistimeforwriterstoadmitthatnothinginthisworldmakessense.
–AntonChekhov,lettertoMariaKiselyova,January14,1887
Justmakesurethere’ssomekindofsexbythemidpoint.Areaderwillonlytrustyouforsolong.
–JuneFrenchinCosmopolitanChapterTen
“SnowedIn”
NICKANDSEWANEEDIDN’TSTAYINTHESUITE
Shewascontentatfirst,enjoyingtheirconversationintheirlittlesnowglobe.Thenshe’ddecidedtogivehimatour,Nickfollowinghersocloselyshecouldhearhisbreathing.Butwhenthey’denteredherbedroomandhe’dplacedbothofhispalmsonthebedandpusheddeeplyintoit,asiftestingitsbuoyancy,sheturnedheelandbeelinedbacktothesafetyofthelivingroom.
Whenherejoinedher,handsthrustcasuallyinhispockets,notacareintheworld,sheannouncedthatshewantedtogodowntotheclub,whichwasnewstoher.
Shedidherbesttopackageherbutterfliesinthefestivewrappingofagoodidea.Therewasatable,withbottleservice,waitingforthem.Shehadn’tbeentoaclubinyears.Shewas,youknow,dressedforit.Whywastetheopportunity?AftersomeconfusionaboutwhetherNickwasinvitedtojoinher(ofcoursehewas;oh,becauseithadsoundedlikeshe’dwantedtogobyherself;oh,hadit,shehadn’tmeantitthatway),theysilentlyleftthesuite,silentlywaitedfortheelevator,gotontheelevatorsilently,gotoffonthewrongfloor,gotbackontheelevator,laughedtobreakthesilence,gotoffontherightfloor,foundtheclub’snondescriptentrance,spokewiththehost,andwereledthroughthethree-storywarehouse-stylevenuetoalow-slungsilvervelvethorseshoebanquettewithabottleofvodkainanicebucketontheglasstablesurroundedbyvariousmixers.
TheysatonoppositesidesoftheU.
Thecondensationrollingdowntheicebucketmirroredthesweatshefeltrollingdownherlowerback.Thelightswerelowandvaguelypurple.Theoccasionalstrobe.Itwasstillearlybyclubstandardsandthedancefloorbeyondthetablewasonlyhalf-full.Sewaneewouldn’tcallwhatwasboomingthroughtheroommusicsomuchasasuccessionofbeatswithsomeoccasionalscreeching.Butitenteredherbodyandpoundedinsideherchestcavity.
Sherealizedshehadn’tlookedatNickoncesincetheysatdown.Sheglancedupandhewaslookingather.Hesmiledandraisedaneyebrow,like,well?Shecouldn’thelpit;shechuckledalittleandshrugged,butterfliesstillfluttering.
Hegesturedatthevodkabottleandsheenthusiasticallynodded.Hegottowork,fillingoneoftheglasseswithice,splashingvodkain,andpointingtothedifferentmixers.Heseemedrelievedtohavesomethingtodo.Sewaneegesturedattheclubsoda.Heobligedandsqueezedawedgeoflimeforgoodmeasure.Hehandedittoherandshemouthed“thanks.”Hemadehimselfthesamedrinkandthenslunghisarmoverthebackofthebanquet,crossedanankleovertheoppositeknee,andgazedoutintothecrowd.
What.Thehell.Arewedoinghere?shethought.
Shetookasignificantgulp,wasabouttosetitdown,caughthiseye,smiledtightly,broughtthedrinkbacktohermouth,andfinishedit.Thenshesetitdown.He’dlookedbackoutintothecrowdsoshematchedhim.Whateverhewasn’tlookingat,shecouldnotlookat,too.
AserverappearednexttoNick.Sheputherhandonhisshoulderandleaneddowntohisear,hercorsetoverflowing.
Sewaneeclockedthis,thinking,really?Iamliterallyrighthere.Butthenshetookstockofjusthowmuchspacewasbetweenthem,eventhoughtheyweredirectlyoppositeeachother.Shewasasfarawayfromhimasthebanquettewouldphysicallyallow.
NickpulledhisheadbackandlookedatSewanee.Heheldupahand,beckonedhertowardhim.
God,thathand.Thosefingers.
ShebeganscootchingaroundtheU,butherdresstwistedaroundherthighs.Shechangedtactics,makingsmallhops,aninelegantfrogattemptingtomovelaterallybetweenlilypads.Eventually,shearrived.
Hedippedhisheadsoclosetoherearshecouldn’ttellifitwashisbreathorhislipsthattouchedit.Eitherway,ashiverranthroughher.“She’ssayingwecanhaveabottleofchampagne,ifwewant.Thatit’sincluded.”
Theypulledbackandshelookedintohiseyes.Hisfocusrackedtohermouth.Allshesaidwas,“oooh,”becauseitwasawordthatpushedherlipsintoapout.Heturnedbacktothenow-standingserverandnodded.Sheleftandtheywerealone.Gluedtoeachother’sside.Hepivotedbacktoherear.“IthinkI’mtoooldforthis.”
Shelaughedandyelledback,“Same.”
Hiseyeswerebright.Shewatchedhimtakeherin,hermouth,herchinandcheeksandneckandchest.Likehewasmemorizingher.Mappingherforfutureexploration.Hesatforward,pickeduphisdrinkandtookasip,nevertakinghiseyesoffher.Thenhewasbackatherear.“Yougoingtodance?”
Sheshookherheadandbroughtherlipstohisear,enjoyingtherushofgratificationshefeltwhenshesawgoosebumpsappearonthesideofhisneck.“Areyouaskingmeto?”
“Yes.”
“Areyoujoiningme?”
“No.”
“Oh,I’msupposedtodancealone?”
“Well,ifyouinsist.”
“Iwouldtakeyouuponthatgenerousoffer,butIcan’tdancetothisnoise.Aretheseactualsongs?”
AsiftheDJhadheardher,themusicmorphedintoaclubbyremixofPhilCollins’s“IntheAirTonight.”Nickcockedhishead:Youweresaying?
Thegauntlethadbeenthrown.Hetuckedhiskneestotheside,givingherroomtopass,andextendedhishand.Takingit,sheleveredherselftostanding.Shedidn’timmediatelymovepast,butpausedbeforehim.Atherstillness,hisheadcameupandshelookeddowntomeethiseyes,handstillinhis.Atimelessconfiguration,aLadyandherknight-errant.Atimelessconnection,clearandcomfortableandright.Anunderstandingoftheirrespectiveplaceinthiseternaldance,instinctivelyknowingwhentoleadandwhentofollow.
Shemovedtothedancefloorandhiseyesneverlefthers,notforasecond
Shestarteddancing.
Itshouldhavebeenawkward.Shewassooutofpractice.Awell-preservedvintagecargaragedfortoolong,itsbatterydrained.Butthemusicwasakeyslippedintotheignitionand,tohersurprise,theengineturnedover.Shebegantomove.TheavidityinNick’seyesburnedoffwhateverinsecurityremainedandthebutterfliesfinallysettled.Shehadnoideawhyhewassointoher,buthewas,anditwasfreeing.Freeingfromsomething.Forsomething.
Shemoveddeeperintoherself,hermovesbecomingsmall,intimate,private.Inthesematters,whileotherwomenmightbeovert,she’dalwaysfoundthatcovertoperationsyieldedthebestresults.Givehimjustenoughtoguesstherest.Makeamanusehisimaginationandhecouldn’thelpbutbecurious.Theydidn’tneedtheexplicitversion.WhattheywantedwasPictionary.Andsheknewhowtodraw.
WhentheserverreturnedwithanicebucketofchampagneandplaceditonthetableinfrontofNick,heshiftedtoseearoundher,tokeepwatchingSewanee,andhadsheeverfeltmorepowerful?Hadshe?
Thecastofhiseyesshifted.Fromwatchingtothinking.Asecrettuggedathislips.Withthethumbofhisrighthand,hespuntheringonhismiddlefinger.
Thesongdidn’tendsomuchasbecomesomethingelse,backtounrecognizablenoise.
Shestoppedmoving.Shestoodthere,peoplesteppingaroundherasifshewereaspilleddrink.
Nick’ssilentgrinreeledhertohim.Asshedriftedoffthedancefloorastrobelightbeganthrobbing.Shewatcheditfracturehim.Hegrewlargerinpulsesasshecamecloser.Shecouldonlyimaginewhatshelookedlike,comingtowardhiminfits,skippingahead.Insteadofswinginghiskneestotheside,thistimehesimplypartedthem.Sosheslippedbetweenthem,theoutsideofherlegskissingtheinsideofhis.Hishandsstayedonhisthighs.Shesawthemclenchthefabric.
Onceagain,theylookedateachother.
Hehadthesweetestlookonhisfacewhenhesaidsomethingshecouldn’thearoverthemusic.
Sosheyelled,“What?”
Helaughed.Shookhishead.Yelledback,chagrined,“IsaidImisstalkingtoyou!”
Shelaughed,bowingherhead,droppingherhandstohisshoulderstosteadyherself.Chuckling,hereachedup,cuppedthebackofherneck.Hisfingersslidthroughthefinehairthereandhischeekslidalonghersuntilhismouthwasbackatherear.“Wouldyoulikesomechampagne?”
Hercheekstilltouchinghis,sheturnedtohisearandsaid,simply,“No.”Thenshetookhislobeintohermouth.
Inresponse,hegatheredherhairandsqueezed.
Shesteppedback,tookhishandsasshestraightened,andpulledhimup.Assheledhimawayfromthetable,shenoticedagroupofyoungwomenloiteringattheperipheryofthedancefloor.Theylookedunmoored.Dinghieslefttobobinarisingtide.Theirdressestooshort,heelstoohigh,hairtooglossy.Onekeptshiftingherweight,alreadyregrettingherchoiceoffootwear;another,withtheshortestdressofall,kepttuggingitdown,drawingmoreattentiontotheverythingsshewastryingtohide.Thesharkswerebeginningtocircle.
ShedroppedNick’shandandsteppedovertothem.Shepointedattheirtable,atthenearlyfullbottleofvodka,attheunopenedchampagne.Shecaughttheserver’seyeandgesturedatthegirls,thenbackatthetable.Shenodded.Thegirls’mouthsdroppedopen.Onepulledherintoahug.Anotherjumpedupanddown,handstoherchest,nearlycollapsingwhenheranklebuckled.
Theyexitedtheclub,butontheirwaytotheelevator,Nicksuddenlytookherhandandguidedherintoavestibule,throughdoubleglassdoors,andoutside.Theblastofcold,snow-scentedairhitSewaneelikeanadrenalineshotandshegasped,butitwasinstantlymuffledbyNick’shandstakingherface,hismouthtakinghers,hisbodybackingherupuntilherasshitanicywall.Shemeltedintoitashisbodymeltedintohers.
Sherememberedtheywereonapublicwalkwaywhensheheardtheunmistakablehootsofapackofboys.Nickbrokethekiss,hishandsmovingfromherfacetothewallbehindher,fencingherin.Shedroppedherheadintohischestashelocatedtheoffenders,growledgood-naturedly,“Feckoff,yeah?”
ThecacklingfadedandSewaneechuckledintohisshirt.Shelookedbackupandpasthisshoulder.Billowycloudsofbreathcarriedherwords:“Youhavetoseethis.”
Heturnedhishead.“MyGod.”Herolledoffher,leanedbackagainstthewallsotheyweresidebyside,facingtheStrip,rightabovethesmalllakewherethegondolaswerekept.TherewasabridgeandthereplicaofSt.Mark’stower,thecampanile.ThelightsoftheMirageandTreasureIslandontheothersideofLasVegasBoulevard.Snowcontinuedtofalloveritall,thoughmoregentlythanbefore.
SheshiveredandNicksnakedanarmbehindherback,draggingherovertosettleagainsthisfront.Hesweptherhairoffherneckand,softlyassnow,kissedherexposedskin.Hisfingersbrushedhercollarboneandthecrevicebelowit.Thesoundshemadewasentirelynewtoher.“Idon’tunderstand,”hemurmured.“Idon’tunderstandhowthishappened.Howeverythingwithyouismagic.”
“I.Don’t.Know,”Sewaneehuffedout.Hetookherchinandtippedherlipsbacktohisandkissedherinwaysshehadeitherlongagoforgottenorneverexperiencedinthefirstplace.
Atsomepoint,shemanagedtoturnthoughttospeech.“Weneedtogo.”
“Yeah.”
“Now.”
“Agreed.”
Theydidn’tmove.
“Anytime.”
“I’mgoingtoneedaminute.”
Sensingherconfusion,hepressedever-so-gentlyintoher.Shegrinnedandgavehimameaningfulpressback.Diditagain.
“Nothelping.”Hegrinnedback.Shediditoncemore.Hepushedheraway,slightly.“Allright.Here’swhatweneedtodo.BecauseIcan’tbetrustedtostoptouchingyou.Yougoupstairs.I’llbeupinaminute.”
“Methinksyou’realreadyup–”
“Jaysus,nomercywithyou,isit?Noquartergiven?”
Inconfirmation,shepushedbackagainsthimonemoretime.
“Witch,”hehissed,jumpingtotheside,laughing.“Go.”
Shesteppedaway,turnedback.“3524.”
“Iknow.”
Assheopenedthedoorsheglancedbackonemoretimeandsaid,“You’vegotyourkey?”
“WorriedImightnotshow?”
Honestly?Yes.Shewasworriedshe’dsomehowimaginedhim.Thatshewouldgobackinsideanditwouldalldisappearasmagicallyasithadappeared.Herdisappointmentpoisedlikeaguillotineabouttodrop.ButNicksaid,“I’mthe’round-the-bendguy,remember?Seeyouinfive.”
SEWANEEWASSTANDINGinfrontofthewindowinthelivingroomwhensheheardthekeycardturnthelock.Shespunaround,andthemomentNickcamethroughthedoorwiththatenergyhepossessedthatcalmedtheveryair,shetookoffhereyepatch.
Thathehadnoreactiononlyaffirmedherdecision.
Sheclaspedherhandsbehindherbackandleanedagainstthewindow,saucilycrossingoneankleovertheother.Theepitomeofcasual.
Hesmirkedather,fullyawareofwhatshewasdoing.“Comfortable?”
Shesmirkedrightbackathim.Ashewalkedintothelivingroom,hetookoffhisjacket,drapeditonthebackofthecouch.Heloosenedhistie,tookitoffaltogether,threwitonthejacket.Unbuttonedthefirstthreebuttonsofhisshirt.Thelightsintheroomwerelow,buttheneonseepingthroughthewindowshighlightedtheleisurelystriptease.Hebegantorolluphissleeves.Slowly,withallthehurryofasadist.Heshookhisheadslightly.Lookeddownathistask.“WhatamIgoingtodowithyou?”
Hisvoicehadtakenonagritshefoundshedidn’tmindatall.
“Whatdoyoulike?”heasked,hiseyesfindinghers.
“Everything?”
“Soundsgoodtome.”Hissmilenearlyranoffhisface.“Wheretostart,then?”Hefinishedwithhissleevesandputhishandsonhiships.“YouknowwhatIwant?TobeJamesBondrightnow.Nothavetothinkaboutthenextmove.It’sjustrightthere.”Hesnappedhisfingers.Sewaneesmiled.“Don’tworry,oncewegetgoing,I’llbefine.It’smerelythatfirst…youknow.Move.”
Shelaughed.Asfarasshewasconcerned,hecouldstartanywhere.Shewasabuffet.Takealittlebitofeverything!Startwithdessert!Whocared?Sheneededtosaythat,tosaysomething,hewaswaiting.Butshewasn’tsurewhat.
Andthenshewas.
“Ihaveaquestion.”
“Oh,noworries,”hesaid,“I’mtestedandclean.”
God,shehadn’tthoughtofthat.Whatwaswrongwithher?Shefeltlikethebuffethadclosedrightasshe’dgottentoit.
“AndIhaveacondom.Afew.”
Thedoorsopenedagain,justforher.Shetookabreath.“NotwhatIwasgoingtoask,butgoodtoknow.”
“Askyourquestion.Iloveyourquestions.”
Sheswallowed.“WhenIwasdancing.Youwerewatchingme.AndIthinkyouwerethinkingsomething.Wereyou?”
Theslightawkwardnessofthepastfewmomentsevaporated.Theroomgotwarm.Hestaredather.Hisgazewentmolten,asithadintheclub.“Yes.”
“Aboutme?”
“Yes.”
“Aboutsomethingyouwantedtodotome?”
Hehesitatedforthespaceofabreath.“Yes.”Heclearlyinterpretedhersilenceasembarrassment,becausehepromptedherwith,“WouldyouliketoknowwhatIwasthinking?”
“No.”Hedeflatedslightly.“No,Idon’twanttoknow.Iwantyoutodoit.”
Nickstilled.“Alice.”Alice?Shehadtorememberwhoshewas.“Wouldn’tyouliketoknow–”
“No.”
“Youdon’twanttoknow–”
“Do.It.To.Me.”Witheachwordhervoicewalkeddownaflightofsultrysteps.
Hetookalonginhale.Alongerexhale.“Feckme.”Heassessedher.“SaystopatanypointandIstop.”
“Itrustyou.”Lordknewwhy,butshedid.
Heranhistongueoverhisbottomlip,thoughtfully.Hejerkedhischinatthelowerhalfofherdress.“Areyouwearinganythingunderthere?”
Acoquettishsmilecreptacrossherface.“Whatdoyoutakemefor?”
Hematchedhersmile.“I’mnotjudging.Ijustneedtoget…thelayoftheland.”
“Thelayoftheland?Yes,I’mwearingsomethingunderhere.”
Hiseyesheatedagain.“What?”
Sewaneepaused.Shewasn’tsuresheremembered.“Uh.Athong.”
“Whatkind?”
“Black.Lace.”
“Grand.”
“Notreally.”
“Takethemoff.”
Shepausedagain.“Justlikethat?”
Hetiltedhisheadagain.“Unlessyouwanttostop?”
Inreply,sheletherfingersslowlyslideupthesideofherthighs,hikingherdressenoughtoreachthesidesofherthong,butnotenoughtorevealanythingbeyondthejoiningofherlegs.Shewatchedhimwatchherslowly,methodicallyslideitdown,sureshe’dneverforgettheimageofhim,tall,strong,fullydressed,inhisrolled-upshirtsleeves,standingonthewhitemarblefloor,litbyfilteredneon.
“CanIassumeyour…stateofaffairs…stillresemblesourbottleofwine?”
Shegotthethongtoherkneesandletitdroptherestofthewaytothefloor.“Layoftheland.Stateofaffairs.”Shedidn’tmove.Shewaitedforinstruction.
“Notthekindofeuphemismsyoufindinyourbooks?Kickthemtome.”
Onemomentofhesitation,butshedid.“Itoldyou,wedon’tuseeuphemismsanymore.”
“Right,sorry,Iforgot.”Hepickedupthethong.Fistedit.“Wet.”
Shecouldn’tspeak.Wordshadlefther.
Heputitinhisfrontpocket.Then,asifhissoleintentionweretotortureher,heliftedhisrighthandtohismouthandlickedthetopridgeoftheringonhismiddlefinger.Eyesneverleavinghers,heeasedtheringoffandputitinthepocketwithherpanties.“Iwouldaskyoutoopenyourlegs.”
Shedid,happily.
Hemovedtowardher.Shepressedfurtherintothewindow.
Whenhewasstandinginfrontofher,shetippedherheadbacktoseehim.Hesteppedcloser.Hisrightlegfoundaperfectstallbetweenheropenones.
Hisnow-ringlessrighthandslippedbetweenthem,underherdress,knucklesslidingupherleftinnerthigh,andcontinuedupwarduntil,withoutpause,hismiddlefingerslideffortlesslyinsideher.
Sheinhaled.
Heexhaled.
Sheboredown.
Hecrookedhisfinger.
Shemewled.
Hebangedhislefthandflatagainstthewindowbesideherhead.
Shepulledhimtoher.
Hepressedhischesttohers.
Shepressedherlipstohisneck.
Hegroundagainstherhip.Once.
Shegrabbedhisass.
Hepulledback.
Shewouldn’tlethim.
Hecursed.
Shewrithed.
Hejackknifedhiswrist,broughttheheelofhispalmrightwheresheneededit.
Andsheshattered.
Undernormalcircumstances,thiswouldbetoofast,tooforeign,tooinappropriate,tooembarrassing,notthewayitwas“supposedtobe.”Yet,somehow,farbeyondherabilitytocomprehendexactlyhow,somethingseeminglysomuchlessbecamesomuchmore.Allthewaysthiswaswrongwereexactlywhatmadeitsoright.
Buttherewasnosensetobemadeofthisnow.Now,shewasbeyondherself.Beyondconsciousness.Beyondtheabilitytoregisterallthatwashappening.
Thesirenwailingthirty-fivefloorsbelow.Thebluelightpulsingonhisshirt.Hiscologne.Thegrainofhisslacksunderherpalmsasshemindlesslykneaded,urginghimon.Hisinnerthighsclenchingaroundherleg.Theheatinthesuiteredundantlykickingon.Gaspinghisnameagainsthisneck.Thefeelofhimthickatherhip.Hisheaddroppingtohershoulderashegavein.Thatgroan.Herheaving.Histrembling.Howtheyslowlyslalomedbacktoearthlikeleaves.
Consciousnessreturnedthewayasunrisereturnedlighttotheearth.Amoan,asigh,ashudder,alaugh,anapology,anareyoukidding,apromisetogoslownexttime,asolongasnexttimeisrightthefucknow,achuckle,adisentangling,anunhitching,aJaysus,youregressedme,astrangledrightbackatcha
Astepaway.
Agoodstare.
Aswallow.
Another.
Astepforward.
Akiss.
More.ChapterEleven
“TheReveal”
SEWANEEHELDTHEGLASSAWARDOUTTONICKANDHEARRIVEDJUSTintimetokeepitfromdroppingtothefloor.Hishandcuppedherelbowandheleanedintogiveheranindustry-standardkissonhercheek.Hisjawagainsthersnearlytookheroutattheknees.Hepulledback,tookonefullmomenttogazeintohereye,andeverythingpassedbetweentheminthatsecondofinfinity:confusion,shock,awe,happiness,betrayal–everygoddamnthing–andthenhe,Nick,Nick,Nickturnedtothepodiumandshe,Sewanee,stayedrootedtothespot,afraidifshemovedaninchshewouldgodown.Shestaredathim.Undernormalcircumstances,thiswouldbetheappropriatethingtodo.Givethehonoreeone’sfullattention.Inthiscircumstance,itwasn’tachoice.
Astheapplausefaded,hespoke.“Apologies,apologies,”hemurmuredintothemicrophone,thatall-too-familiarIrishliltonfulldisplay.“Myauntwouldhaveappreciatedmyabsolutemortificationhere.”Helaughed,andtheroomlaughedwithhim,andheclearedhisthroat.“First,Imustthankyouforhonoringher…”Heabruptlystopped…swallowed…tookabreath.Theaudiencesurelythoughtitwasowingtotheemotionsofthemoment.Theyweremoreaccuratethantheyknew.
“…Withthisaward.Shewouldhavesoappreciatedthisnight,beingfetedbythoseofyouwhobroughtsuchbeautifulvoicetoherwords.”Hegazeddownattheaward.“Shewouldhavebeenwellchuffedbythis,Icantellyouthat.Shelovedaudio.Shelovedthemeldingofwritingandperformance.Andshewasinaweofallofyou.Especiallythosewhobroughthercharacters,theirstruggles,theirwell-earnedhappilyeverafterstolife.Youhavehereternalgratitude.”Heassessedthecrowd.“Andmineaswell.Cheers.”
Heraisedtheawardoncemoreandgrinned,thatHarrisonFordgrin,thatbatteringramgrin.HeturnedtotakeSewanee’sarm,aswascustomary,butshewasalreadymovingoff,headdown.
Hetrailedherintothewingsashe’dtrailedherthroughthesuiteandtheMCbrushedpastthemonhiswaybacktothestage.Afewpeoplemurmuredtheircongratulations,theircondolences,andNickmurmuredhisthanks.Markwasthere,waitingtogoon.HesqueezedSewanee’sarmandsaid,“Goodsave,Swan.”Shesmiledreflexivelyandkeptwalkingandthenfeltadifferenthandonherarmandfinallyconcededtherewasnoescapingthis.
Soshestopped,tookacourageousbreath,andturnedtofacehim.
Hisbewilderedeyesdrankherin.Heopenedhismouth,repeatedly,agapingfishonadock.
Shewasawareoftwothings:theyhadaboutamillionthingstosaytoeachotherandtheywereinthewingsofatheater.Whattosay?Wheretostart?
“Hi,”wasallshecameupwith.Butatleastshesaiditquietly.
Hebarkedalaugh.“Hi?!”
Itwastooloudforbackstage.Someoneshushedthem.
Shesaid,“Howareyou?”Utterlyinane,butatleastit,too,wasquiet.
“Howthehell–”Nickbegan,butthestagemanagerhissedatthem.Nickrolledhiseyesinfrustration,tookherarmagain,andledhertothenearestexit.Theyburst,missile-like,intoahallway,andhesteeredher–ashe’doncesteeredheroutsideintothefallingsnow–intotheemptylobby.Theystoppedinfrontofthebar.
Afteramomentofnothingbutstaring,Sewaneehadtosaysomething.Anything.Whatcameoutwas,“Surprise.”Andthenshelaughed.
Helaughed,too.“Imissedthatdrywit,Alice.”
Avoicebehindthem:“Swan?”Hereyesqueezedshut.“Youokay?”Markenteredthelobby.Shemethisworried,harriedeyes.Hewassupposedtobegoingonstageanysecond,butshehadbeenbodilyremovedfromthewingsbyamanMarkdidn’tknow.
“Yup!”shebleated.“Everything’sfine.Thankyou.Getbackintherebeforeyoumissyourcue.”Shesoundedmostlynormal,ifperhapsoverbright,soafteronemorewarystareatNick,Markretreateddownthehallway.
“What’swiththeSwanthing?”Nickasked,browfurrowinginawaySewaneedidn’tlike.“Petname?”
Sewaneeswallowed.“No.That’smyname.”
“Whatis?”
“Swan.”
“Like…thebird?”
“Sewanee,actually.”
“Well,who’sAlice?”
“ThereisnoAlice.Well,thereisanAlice,butI’mSewaneeChester.”
“Areyou–butyou’reaRomanceeditor?”
“No.”
“IsAlicethe–wait.Youdon’thaveanaccent.Whydon’tyouhaveanaccent?”
“BecauseIdon’thaveanaccent.”
Thiswashappeningtoofast.Shedidn’tknowhowelseitcouldhappen,buthermouthwasansweringbeforeherearswerehearingandshewasonlyjustcatchingupwiththeconversation.
Hesteppedbackandquirkedhisheadather.“Areyouasociopath?”
“No.”
“Pathologicalliar?”
“No!”Sewaneegroaned.“I’manactor.”
“Can’tsayIseethedifference.”Hegrinnedindulgently,abitpityingly,atouchruefully.
Sewaneetookadeepbreath,tryingtoregroup.Shewaskeenlyawareofthebartenderspackingup,pretendingtheyweren’trivetedbythis.
“Well,”hecontinued,blowingoutabreath.“Ihavetogiveittoyou…Sewanee,wasit?Wonderfullyconvincing.”
Sheclosedhereye.“Okay,please–youhavetoletmeexplain.”Sheopenedhereye.“Please.”
Nickdroppedanelbowontothebar,crossedhisfeetattheankles.“I’mallyours.”
Givenanopening,Sewaneefroze.Shedidn’tknowwheretobegin.Howtobegin.
Nickwatchedherexpectantly.“Whyallthelying?”Hetwirledafinger.“Annnndaction.”
Shestompedherfootinfrustration,threwherheadback,andsaid,abittooloudly,totheceiling,“BecauseI’dhadabadday!”Shetookaget-control-of-yourselfbreathandcontinued.“Becausesomerandomguyapproachedmeinabar.Becauseitwasonlysupposedtobeonedrink.”Nowthatshehadstarted,shegushed.“Ifeltterribleaboutit,Nick.Assoonaswegottodinner,Ithought,tellhimthetruth,but–again–youwereleavingafterthatand,and…”Shesighed.“Iwasprotectingmyself.Maybe.Idon’tknow,butitdoesn’treallymatterwhyIdidit,Ijustshouldn’thavedoneitandI’msorry.”Shelookedintohiseyes,reallylooked.“So,so,sosorry,butpleasebelievemewhenIsaythatwhatstartedasaliedidnotendasone.”
Hejuststaredather.
Unabletoholdhisgaze,shelookedathershoes.“Goahead.Sayit.Ideserveit.”
“Howcouldyou…”Hedriftedoffand,stomachinherthroat,Sewaneeglancedup.“Keepallofthatgoingthewholetime?”Therewasagenuinenoteofreverenceinhisvoice.“Imean…”Heloweredhisgazeather.“Thewholetime.”
Sheopenedhermouthtoexplainfurther,buthestartedclapping.“AneditorfromTexasnamedAlice.Brilliant!”Thenheshrugged.“And,yeah,Igetit.Vegas.”Hepointedatthebar.“Wannadrink?”
“Areyou…you’renotupset?”
“Upset?Iwanttotakelessonsfromyou.”
“That’s–that’sit?”
“Well,thatand…”Hiseyesroveddownherbody.“That’sabeautifuldress.”Heturnedtothebar,pitchedhisvoice.“Mate!Beforeyoupackitallup,couldIbotheryoufor–”HeturnedbacktoSewaneewithacollusivesmile.“Vodkasoda,wasit?”Atheropen-mouthedblankstare,hesaidtothebartender,“Twovodkasodas,please.”Hecamebacktoheronceagain,leanedanelbowonthebaronceagain.“Sohowyoubeen?”
“Canwe…Ihaveafewhundredquestionsforyou,JuneFrench’snephew,thatI’dliketo–”
“Ah,sure,yes,shoot.”
Shebeganvibrating.Apulsingvibration.Beforeshecouldponderhowhehadthiseffectonher,sherealizedthevibrationwasrealandcomingfromherballgown’srightpocket.Shedugherphoneouttodismissthecall,assumingitwasMarkcheckinginonher,onlytoseeonthescreen:SEASONS.
“I-Iactuallyhaveto–”
“Noworries.I’llbehere.Admiringthatdress.”
Flustered,stilllookingathim,shebroughtthephonetoherear.“Hello?What?”Shepivotedaway,herattentiongoingfullytothecall.“When?Iwasjustthere!I’llberightover.No,I’mcomingrightnow,don’tdoanythingelse.”Shedroppedthephonefromherear,butinsteadofmoving,shesimplystoodthere,letitdangleatherhip.
Nickstraightened.“Everythingallright?”
“It’smygrandmother.”Sewaneeraisedhereyetohis.Heardherselfsay,“Shetriedtokillherself.”Oncethewordsweresaid,shejoltedintomovement.“Ihavetogo.OhmyGod.”Butshestoppedagain.
“WhatcanIdo?”Nick’svoicehelpedspurhertomovementoncemore.
“Idon’tknow.Nothing.I’msorry,I…Ihavetogo.”Shewentoutthemaindoors,Nickrightbehindher.Therewasataxiparkedinawaitingzone.ThenNickwasopeningthedoorandshewasplungingthroughit.Hejumpedinafterher,shetoldthedriverwheretogo,thatitwasanemergency,andminuteslater,Sewaneewasjumpingoutbeforethecarhadfullystopped.Nickthrewcashatthedriverandchargedafterher.
ShewasalreadythroughthefrontdoorswhenNickcalledout,“I’llwaitinthelobby!”
Sheheardthewords,butmadenoacknowledgment.ShewasalreadynavigatingthehallwaysleadingtoBlah.
SEWANEEROUNDEDTHEcornerintohergrandmother’sroom.Therewerethreepeoplehuddledaroundthebed.“Whereisshe?”Sewaneedemanded.
Allthreeturnedtoherandsteppedaway,revealingBlah’sfrailformslumpingupright,nightgowntwistedaroundherthin,veinythighs.“Blah.”Sewaneewentrightovertoher.“It’sokay,I’mhere.”Shetriedtocatchhergrandmother’sgaze,buthereyeswereunfocusedandglassy,widewithresidualterror,dartingloopilyaroundtheroom.“Whathappened?”Sewaneeasked,tryingtosoundsteady.
“She’dbeen–”ayoungfemalenursestarted,clearedherthroat.“Shewasagitated.Tellingpeopletogetawayfromher,butnoonewasthere.Thenshewantedtogoseethemovie.Andthatseemedtocalmherdown.Butwhenitwasover–”
“Beforeitwasover,”anolderwomanchimedin.
Thenurse–who,Sewaneeglimpsedfromhernametag,wasGina–nodded.“Beforeitwasover,shestartedupconversationswithimaginarypeople–”
“Whatwasshesaying?”Sewaneeasked.
“Thingslike,‘You’realwayslikethis’and‘leavemealone.’SoIbroughtherbacktoherroom,gotherintobed,andthenIwenttotalktoCarlosaboutmeds–”
Carlosinterjected,professionally,“IsuggestedherusualdoseofAtivan.”
“And?”
“IgottheAtivan,”Ginacontinued,“camebackintoherroomand…”Shepointedatthewindow.“Shewashalfwayout.”
“Howthehelldid–”ButSewaneestopped.
Thewindowhadbeenopen.
Becauseshe’dopenedit.
Andnotclosedit.
Thiswasherfault.
“IyelledforCarlos.Wepulledherbackinsideandthat’swhenthescreamingstarted.”SewaneenoticedGinawasholdingherrightforearmwithherlefthand.Therewasgauzeunderneathherfingers.AtSewanee’squestioninglook,Ginasaid,“Shescratchedme.Justalittle.I’mfine.”
Reeling,SewaneeturnedbacktoBlah.Sheappearedcompletelydisoriented.Hermouthhadgoneslack,herhairwasstandingupasifshe’dbeeninapillowfight.
“Blah?”Sewaneereachedforherhand.“Everything’sfine.I’mhere.”
Hergrandmother’seyessettledonSewanee’sfaceandwentwide.Sewaneesmiled,tryingtoprovideahintoffamiliarity,ofnormalcy.ButthenBlahsaid,“Whoareyou?”
Sewaneesqueezedherhand.“Sewanee.”
Blahpulledherhandback.“Getawayfromme.”
Sewaneetookitagain.“Blah,please,it’sDollface–”
Blahyankeditback.“No!”Hervoicewasraw.“Don’tyoutouchme!”Frantic,too.Sewaneeleanedincloser,whichonlymadeBlahretreatfurther,whichmadeSewaneesay,desperately,“I’mHenry’sdaughter,yourgranddaughter–”
“Help!”Blahscreeched.“Somebodyhelpme!”
SewaneefeltCarlos’shandonhershoulder,urgingherback.Shethrewitoff.“BlahBlah!”Sewaneebarked.
Blahthrashed,tryingtogetaway,getup,getout.Ginagrabbedhershoulder.
Theolderaidesaid,“Wemayhavetocallanambulance.”
Sewaneechangedtactics.Shemadeshushingnoises,andinhergentlestvoicesaid,“You’remygrandmotherandIloveyouandyou’resafeandeverything’sfine.”
“AAAHHHHHHH!”She’dreachedbansheehysteria.
“Okay,Barbara,okay,easy,”Carlosmurmured,grabbingherothershoulder
Sewaneemadeonefinalattempt.Shecouldn’thelpit.ShetookBlah’sfaceinherhands,lookedinhereyes,tryingtoconnectthroughforceofwillalone.“BlahBlah,listento–”
Blahspitinherface.
Sewaneewassoshocked,soutterlydumbfounded,thatallshecoulddowasnothing.Shewasparalyzed.
“You’renotmygranddaughter!Mygranddaughterisbeautiful!”
“Blah–”Sewaneechoked.
“MONSTER!!!”
Sewaneedidn’trememberleavingtheroom.Shedidn’tknowhowsheendedupdownstairsandoutside,onherkneesinthegrassinthegardensobbingsohardshecouldn’tbreathe.Shefeltfaintandnauseousandinflamedallatonce.Shefeltasthoughshewereonfire.Thesoundscomingfromherweretheprimalkeensofthemortallywounded.Herforeheaddugintothemuddygrass,shepulledclumpsofitupbythehandful.Shecradledherheadandburrowedthemudintoherscalp.Herthroatburnedlikeacrematorium.Eventuallythesoundssubsidedandwhatwasleftwereresidualheaves.Andthehandonherback.
Thehand.Onherback.Notmoving,notsoothing,notpetting.Resting.Thefullspanofitnestedbetweenhershoulderblades.
WHENSHERESURFACED,shewassurprisedtofindherselfcurledinNick’slap.Thattheyweresittingonabenchinthegarden,theoneshe’dsatonwithAmanda.Sheopenedhereyeand,throughtheblur,couldseethatthechestofhistuxedoshirtwasamess.Wetandsmearedwiththeremnantsofhermascara,lipstick,andfoundation.Itlookedlikeacrimescene.She
“Shhhh.”Hebroughthishandtothesideofherhead,guidingittohisshoulder,hisjacketsoftanddry.
“Thiswas–”Then,toherself,“OhGod.”BacktoNick:“Youdon’thavetostay,I’mfinenow–”
“Don’tbeanarse,”hemurmured,histonesoothingdespitetheplayfuladmonishment,“I’mnotgoinganywhere.”
Sosheletherselfbecradledbyhim.Infact,shebroughtherarmupacrosshischestandaroundhisothershoulder,snugglingcloser.Shelethisfingersplayatherhairline,tookcomfortinthesteadybeatingofhisheart.
Afteranepoch,whenshefeltshehadreturnedtosomereasonablebaseline,shewasleftwiththeheady,slightly-stonedfeelingextremesobbinggenerates.Shewantedtotalk,butwasn’tsureshewascapableofcoherentspeech.Shetookabreathandgaveitatry,rhetoricallymurmuring,“June’snephew.NowonderyouweresogoodattheRomanceversion.”
Shefelthischucklelikethunderinhischest.“Icouldhavebeenaweebitmorehonest,too.”
Sewaneepaused.“YournameisNick,right?”
“Yes,yousee,Ididn’tknowweweremakingupnames.”Sheheardtheteasinginhisvoice.“ButIshouldn’thaveplayeditdumb.”
“Whydidyou?Youdidn’thaveto.Youhadanopening.‘I’maRomanceeditor.’‘Oh,whatacoincidence,myauntbasicallybuilttheentirecategory,perhapsyou’veheardofher?’”
“Right.Thatwouldhavebeenathingtosay.”Hepaused.“Whatwouldyouhavesaidtothat?”
Sewaneethoughtforamoment.“Idon’tknow.Maybe…maybeIwouldhavetakentheopportunitytocomeclean.Youwouldn’thavebeensomerandomguyinabaranymore.”
“ButIwasarandomguyinabar.”
Shedaredtolookup.Hemadeapoutingsmile,probablyattheabsolutedisasterofherface.Shestartedtogobackintohiding,intothesafetyofhisjacket.Buthestoppedher.Puthishandonherchinandkeptherheadup.Hegazedather.“Ithinkwebothwantedrandom,”hemurmured.“Thatwasthefantasy,no?”
Theword“fantasy”sparkedadormantemberinsideher.
BrockMcNight.
Shesatup.“Whattimeisit?”Shefumbledinherpocket.
“Probablytenorso,”Nickanswered,butSewaneealreadyhadherphoneout.10:30.10:30!She’dbeencryingfor,what,anhour?Shestoodup,shakily,herhandclingingtoNick’sshoulder.“Ihavetomakeacall.”
“Ofcourse.”Heprobablythoughtsheneededtocallfamily,andshedid.Shedid.Butfirst,this.
Shemovedawayfromhimthen,abouttwentyfeet.ShepulleduphertextchainwithBrockandstartedtyping.I’msosorry.Youwon’tbelievethis,butafamily911…Shepaused.Deleted.Startedagain.IhadanemergencyandI’msosorryforthesuperlatenoticebutIwon’tbeableto
Everythingfeltinadequate.Sheowedhimmorethanatext.He’dhavequestionsandshewantedtobeabletoanswerthem.Shewantedtohearhisvoiceand,moreimportantly,shewantedhimtohearhers.Tohearhowsorryshewas.Thatshewasn’tgettingcoldfeet.Thatitwasamatteroftiming,nothingelse.Afterallthesemonths,shefinallywantedtotalktohim.
So,shetookasteadyingbreath,tappedhisname,andpressedthephoneicon.Shebroughtittoherear.
Firstring.
Secondring.
Therewasaringinthegarden,too.
Thirdring.
Again,inthegarden.Annoying.
Sheputafingerinherearandlookedaround.ShesawNickstandup,turnawayfromher,andanswerhisphone.
Inherphone,Brockfinallypickedup.“Sarah?”Thatfamiliarrichness,thatburnedcaramel,ofeightythousanddownloadsandcounting.
Relieved,Sewaneesaid,“Yes,hi.”
“Well,hello.”Hisvoicecamethroughherphone.
And,also,simultaneously,acrossthenightair.
Hecontinued,“I’mgladyoucalled.Imightbeabitlate.”
Hisvoicewasinstereo.
“Somethingunexpectedcameup.I’llexplainwhenIseeyou.”
Again,stereo.
HereyestayedgluedtoNick’sback.“Didyouhearme?”
Awordfinallydroppedfromhermouth.“Brock?”
Again.Stereo:“Yes?”
Immediately,shesaid,intothephone,“Nick?”
Automatically,heanswered,intothephone,“Yes?”
Silence.Deafeningsilence.
Thensheshouted,finally,acrossthecourtyard,“Whatthefuck?”ChapterTwelve
“TheReckoning”
NICKSPUNAROUND
Theystaredateachother.
Theyloweredtheirphones.Or,moreaccurately,theirphonesloweredthemselves.
Nickwasthefirsttospeak.Whathesaidwas,“Holymotherofshite.”
Sewaneehadawholedumptruckofthingstosay,butthehydraulicswerebroken.
SoNicksaid,again,“Holymotherofshite!”
Thenhegrinned.Hegrinnedandthenhethrewbackhisheadandhehooted.Heclaspedhishandsinfrontofhischestandlaughed.Hegrabbedhisheadandspunaroundanddidalittlejig.
Thenhemovedtowardher,hiseyestwinklinglikeChristmasmorning.Likethegiftofhisdreamslayunwrappedathisfeet.
Shesteppedback.
Wayback.
Hefroze.
Shelookedathimfromthecornerofhereye,adogguardingabone.
Nick’ssmilefadedslightly.“What?”
“What?”shesaid,incredulously.“What?!”shesaid,moreincredulously.“Whoareyou?”
Sewaneewatchedhimattempttobanishthesmile,togivethecircumstancethesobrietysheneeded.Itonlymadehimlooklikehe’dlickedasourball.“I’mme.Nick!”Hecouldn’tdoit.Thesmilecamebackwithavengeance.Andalaughforgoodmeasure.“Don’tyouseehowincredible–”
Herfingershotup.“Wait.Stop.Questions.”
Hisarmswentout.“I’mallyours.”
Sewaneetookabreath.“JuneFrench’snephew?”
“Yes!”
“And?”
Henodded.Once.“Yes.IamalsoBrockMcNight.”HesaiditinBrock’svoice.
“What.”
Hesaiditagain,andagaininBrock’svoice.“IamalsoBrockMc–”
“No,no,no,no,no,nodon’tdothat.”
“Allright.”Hisarmslifted,reachingtowardher.“Andyou’reSewaneeChester.AndSarahWestholme.”Itwasn’taquestion.“Fantastic.Nicetomeetbothofyou.”Hegesturedatthebench,stiffly,likehisarmdidn’tbelongtohim.“Shallwesit?”
Shedidn’tmove.
“Orwecouldstand.Standingisgood.”Hewatchedher,waitingforasignal.
Shesat.
Nickplacedhimselfcarefullyattheotherend.Hepointedatthelargespacebetweenthem.“Nowthere’sroomforallfourofus.”Athersilence,hesaid,“Right,toosoon.”
“Couldhavebeen‘aweebit’morehonest,too?”shesaid,tightly.
Heshookhisheadlightly.“Yes,let’scleareverythingup.One:Idon’tworkforaventurecapitalfirm.That’smydad,mybiologicaldad,hedoesthat.”
“Andtheaccent?”
“Well.”Hespokethenextwordswithastrongerburr.“IdotendtothickenitupabitwhenI’mlookingtomeetsomeone.Womendoloveagoodaccent,youknow.”
Shedroppedherheadintoherhands.“OhmyGod.”
Hedroppedtheexcessivelilt.“Sorry,justbeinghonest.”
Sheinhaledsharply.“Okay.Okay.”Shebreathed.“IknowwhyIlied.”Shelookedathim.“Whydidyou?”
Hespreadhisarmswide,asiftoshowherheheldnoweapons.“I’mnotyou.Idon’thaveacareerundermyownname.I’mjustapseudonym.Aghost.So,when–if–IsaywhatIdoforaliving?People–women–theywanttoknowwhatI’verecordedandwhatdoItellthem?Outmyselfasavocalpornstar?”
Sewaneekepttryingtoclearapaththroughthemoundsofmentalclutter.“SotheBrockMcNightvoiceis–”
“Fake.It’sentirelyputon.”Hesighed.“It’salongstory.”
“Givemetheshortversion.”
“Whenthebandfellapart,Istartednarrating.OneofJune’sfriendsgavemeashot–”
“Theband’sreal?”
Heblinkedather.Seemedtofinallyunderstandthegravityofherconfusion,herreticence,hersuspicion.Shewasdoubtingeverything,notonlyVegas,butalsotheircorrespondence.Heinchedovertoheronthebench,carefully.Cautiously.Shedidn’tmoveaway,butshestiffenedandfoldedherarmsacrossherchest.Hepausedhisadvance.“Everything–everysinglethingIwrotetoyou–thatwasreal.Thatwasme.Justadifferentname,that’sall.Infact,thebandmate,mybestfriend?That’sJason.Casanova’sproducer.”
Sewaneethrewupherhands.“Sure,whynot?AndthecocktailwaitressinVegaswasyoursister.”Shelookedattheground,butcouldfeelhimpeeringather.
Ifeverythingwasreal,thenwhydidshefeelduped?
Thenighthadalreadybeentoomuch.Thisofficiallyputherovertheedgeshecouldhaveswornshe’dalreadyfallenoff.
Nickwastalking.“Thisisgood,yourealizethat,right?It’samazing.Havealaugh,darling,it’sfunny.”Thelastfewwordswereinfusedwithagentlechuckle.Hereachedouttolayacomfortinghandonherknee.
Butshewasn’treadyforthat.Itactuallyangeredher.Thefactthathefoundthisfunnyseemedtoprovehewasn’tnearlyasinvestedineitherversionofherasshe’dbeeninbothversionsofhim.
Plus,shewascoveredinspitandmudandmakeupandtearswhilehelookedlikeJamesBond.
Shestood.“Thisisstupid.I’mdone.Enough.Ihaverealconcerns,realproblems.Mygrandmother’sintheretryingtokillherself,myfather’sanasshole,and…”Somethingboomerangedbackaround.“Ilosttonight!IwasnominatedinonecategoryandIlost,andthathasn’thappenedsinceIstarteddoingaudiobooks,soIdon’tknowwhatthatmeans,ifanything,butit’sprobablynotgood,andIjust…goodnight.”
“Oh,comeon!”Nickcalledtoherretreatingback,hisvoicestillfilledwithmirth.“Don’tstormoff!Sewanee!”
ShedisappearedintoSeasons.
“YOUSMOKE?”
Itwasnotwhatshe’dintendedtosay,butthesightofNicklyingonhisbackonthebench,bringingacigarettelazilytohismouth,madeeverythingelseshe’dplannedtosayleaveher.
Hestartledatherreappearanceandquicklysatupright,snuffingthecigarette.He’dundonehisbowtieandunbuttonedhiscollar.Hehadnorightlookingsogood.“Notsincehighschool,”hesaid,sheepishly,“butI–It’sbeen…aroughfewmonths.”Inallofthisconfusion,she’dforgottenhisaunt–whohehadclearlybeenclosewith–haddied.Shewalkedbacktothebench,butdidn’tsit.
Puppydogeyesgazedupather.“Youcameback.”
Sheswallowed.“I’mso…spunoutandIdon’tknowhowmuchIcanhandlerightnow,butIdoknowIdon’twanttowalkawaylikethat.”
“That’scommendable.Quitegrown-up.”
Sewaneeshookthatoff.“Itendtocatastrophize.MyfatherwouldtellyouIhaveaflairforthedramatic.”
Nickshrugged.“You’repassionate.”
Herfaceheatedatthat,atthecasualknowingnessofhisstatement.Also,theerroneousnessofit.Shewasn’tpassionate,notreally.She’donlybeensowithhim.
Shegatheredherwits.“Iwanttoknowwhyyouthinkthisisgood.Whyyouthinkit’samazing.”
Heslappedhisknees.“Gladly!”Hestood,whichhadtheeffectofputtingthementirelytooclose,butSewaneewouldn’tembarrassherselfbysteppingback.Sheboldlymethisgazeinstead.“Becauseinwhatworldcouldyouimaginethishappeningtoyou?”
“None!ThisbelongsinoneofJune’sbooks.”
“Right!Butthisisreal!”
“Isit?”
“Yes!”
“Whatis?”
“This!Thewholethis.”Hewavedhisarms,encompassingtheentireuniverse.“We’resolucky.”
“How?”
“BecauseI’vebeenamessforweeks.”Theexcitementinhisvoiceacceleratedhispace.“I,Nick,couldn’tstopthinkingaboutthewomanfromVegas.You.AliceYou.ButIwasalldiscombobulated.Why?BecauseI,Brock,washavingthesefeelings,realfeelings,foryou.SarahYou.SoINickandIBrockwereat,like,oddswitheachotherbecausewe’rehavingthesefeelingsfortwodifferentwomen,butthey’rebothyou!SewaneeYou!Don’tyousee?Thisis…”
Asheranoutofsteam,shequirkedherheadathim.What?Thisiswhat?Shesureasshitdidn’tknow.Shedidn’tevenknowwhathehadjustsaid.Butshewasabletocherry-pickfromit…howmuchhelikedher.Allofthehers.
Hesighedandstuckouthishand.Theyweresoclosehehadtokeephiselbowtuckedintohissidetodoit.“Hi.MynameisNick.NickSullivan.I’manarratorofRomance.Nicetomeetyou.Andyouare?”
Shelookedathishand,thathandthathadbeenplaces.Sheswallowedandtookthebait.“SewaneeChester.”
Hegentlyshookherhand.Hedidn’tletgo.“I’msuretheanswer’sno,butI’dberemissifIdidn’tatleastoffertomakegoodonourdatetonight.Wouldyoulikesomefood?ALastWord?”
Shechuckledsoftly.“Aswonderfulasthatsounds…”
Hepattedherhandwithhisotherone.“Igetit.It’sbeen…anight.”
Shenodded.“Ineedsometime.”
Nickletgoandheldhishandup.“Absolutely.Textmewhenyou’rereadytotalk.”
Therewasnoifinhisstatement.AsfarasNickwasconcerned,thiswasahumorousbumpintheroad.
Sowhatwasherproblem?Yes,shewashollowandspentandcompletelyflummoxed,butwhydidshefeellikeshewasmissingsomethingkey?Shehadthefeelingofbeingconfusedwithoutknowingthesourceofherconfusion.Liketryingtofindhercarinaparkinggarageandcyclingthroughthepossiblescenarios:Wasitstolen?Wasittowed?Wassheonthewrongfloor?Didsheevendrivethatnight?
Shetentativelysmiledandsteppedback.Shegavehimalittlewave,whichhereciprocated,andsheturnedaround,walkingbackintoSeasons.
“WHYWEREYOUinLasVegas?”
Shehadn’tbeengoneaslongthistime,soshecaughtNickashewasleavingthegarden,scrollingthephoneinhishand.
Hestartledandthenlaughed.“Isthisabit?Areyoudoingabit?”Buthemusthaveseenthesuspiciononherfacebecausehesobered.“Fortheconvention.”
“Why?”
“Junehadbeenscheduledtobethereandwhenshe…whenshedied,herpublisher–ofherbacklist–theywantedtoturnitintoamemorial,ofsorts.Itseemedliketherightthingtodoforherfans.Theycouldstopby,paytheirrespects,getalimited-editionpostcardofheroriginalcovers.”Headded,“Shewaslikeamumtome.”
“Butoutofallthehotels,whywereyoustayingattheVenetian?”
“Junehadbookedtheroom.BecauseofCasanova.Apoorman’sresearchtrip.”
Itwasalmosttooplausible.Whydidn’tshetrustthis?Anyofthis?
“WereyouattheconventionasBrockMcNight?”
Helookedhorrified.“Christ,no!Idon’tdoanythingasBrockMcNight.”
“So,youdidn’tknowIwasthere?”
Heblinkedather.“Ididn’tknowwhoyouwere,howcouldIknowyouwerethere?”
“Imean,”Sewaneesaid,startingtogatherafullheadofsteam,butnotunderstandingpreciselywhy,“youdidn’tseemehostingapanelonaudiobooks,manninganaudiobookbooth?”
Helookedmorebewildered.“No!Emphaticallyno.Icouldn’tcarelessaboutaudiobooks!Sewanee…Idon’tknowyou.Idon’tevenknowhowtospellyourgorgeousname.”
“You’veneverheardofthenarratorwiththeeyepatch?”
“Forfeck’ssake,no!”Shecouldseehewastryingtofigureherout.Likemaybeifhelookedatherhardenoughherheadmightcrackopenandhecouldtakeapeekinside.“WhyareyoudoubtingthatIdidn’tknowwhoyouwere?”
Sheshookherhead.“Youexpectmetobelieve,youhonestly,thatyourandomly…”Shetookaraggedsigh.Shedidn’twanttostartcryingagain
“What?”Hereachedforher,butshedecisivelypulledawayfromhim.
Shefoundhervoice.Steeledit.“Why’dyoucomeuptomeinthatbar?”
“Whythatbar?”
“No.Whyme?”
Shewatchedhisfacechange.Itwentslack.Forthefirsttimetonight,hefinallylookedasguttedasshefelt.“Oh.Yes,okay.It’snot…it’ssodaft.”
“YouthoughtI’dbeeasy?”
“What?No–”
“Thatthegirlwiththeeyepatchwouldbegrateful?”
Nick’seyesshudderedclosedandhishandclutchedhischest.“No.You’rebreakingmyheartrightnow.Howcanyouthinkthataboutyourself?”
Sewaneeanswered,simply,“BecauseI’vehadpitypickupsbefore.”
“Thatisnotwhatitwas.Notatall.MyGod.”
“Thenwhat?”Hedidn’thaveaquickcomeback.“Nick?”
“Mydarlinggirl–”
“Stop.”Shewasdoingherbesttogivehimanopportunitytosurpriseher,butshewasbracingforthetruth.“It’sokay,justadmititwasapity–”
Nickthrewhisarmsoutandwalkedafewstepsaway.Hespunback.“Youreallywantto–fine.”Hehuffedasigh.“You’dbeensittingwithAdakuObi.Okay?SoIcameover.”Heshrugged.“ThoughtI’dgetingoodwiththefriend.Ifiguredyouwerethewingmanso…”Hetookabreath,widenedhiseyes,shookhishead.“Simpleasthat.”
Simpleasthat.
Sewaneeturnedandwalkedaway.
“I’msorry,”hesaidandfromthenearnessofhisvoice,shecouldtellhewasfollowingher.“YouaskedmeandItoldyouthetruth.Idon’twant–Ican’tlietoyouanymoreaboutanything.Whatevertheconsequences.”
Shesaidnothing.
Hecontinued,“Butwhile,yes,that’showitstarted,that’sobviouslynothowitended.”
Sewaneefiredback,“Right.Shedidn’tcomebacktothetable,didshe?”Shefeltlikesuchanidiot.Suchapatheticidiot.She’dbeenwonderingwhatthisguysawinherandithadbeensoobvious,andshe’dbeensoblind.Willfullyblind.God.
Theyleftthewalledgardenandreenteredthebuilding.Theywalkedthroughtheemptymainroom,thelobby,Sewanee’seyeonthedoubledoorsinfrontofher.Shehadtogetoutofhere.
“Beforeyouleave,whatisitnow,forthetenthtime…?”Nicktriedtopokeaholeinthetension,butshesawnohumorouslightcomethroughit.“Pleasethinkaboutthis:howitbegandoesn’tmatter.Itdoesn’t!Becauserememberwhenyougotthetextfromyourfriendwhocouldn’tmakeittodinner?”Sewaneeheldupherhand,willinghimtostop.Thattexthadbeenyetanotherofherlies.
Nickignoredherhand.“DidIleaveyouthen?DidIwalkaway?No!IaskedforthecheckandIwentwithyoutodinner,becauseIwantedto,becauseIwantedtobewithyouatthatpoint!”
“BecauseIwaswhatwasleft!”
Sewaneebreachedthefrontdoorsandnoticedataxipullingupandallrationalthoughtfled.Shewantedtoescapeandthiswasthefastestway.“Ican’tdothis.Ineedsometimeto–it’stoomuch,it’s,it’s…”Asshegottothecab,thedooropened.
“Swan!”Mitzicroaked,heavingherselfout.“Youlooklikeleftovers.Likesomethingsomeonescrapedoffaplate.Nicedress,though.”
“Thanks,”shemumbled.
Asthedriverbroughtherwalkeraroundthecab,MitzileanedonSewaneeandhereyeslandedonNick.“Hoohah,what’sthis?”
Sewaneecaughtthedriver’seye.“Areyoufree?”
“Sure,climbin.”
“Sewanee–”Nickbegan,butSewaneecuthimalookthatcouldshatterglass.SheturnedbacktoMitzi,whowasnowsettledonherwalker.
“SeeyouFriday,Mitzi.”
MitzigaveNickanelevatorglance.“Bringwhateverthisis.”
Sewaneeduckedintothecabandslammedthedoor.Nickscrabbledtothewindow,said,throughit,“DidIplantohaveanythingotherthanadrink?DidIplananythingbeyonddinner?Iwasleaving!DidIplanthesnow?!”
Sewaneetoldthedriverwheretogoandthecabstartedtopullaway.Nickslappedthetopofit.“Sewanee!Comeon!”ButSewaneeshooedthecabbieonward.
Sheturnedaround,asifsheactuallyhadsomethingtoyellbackathim,andwatchedhishandsfindhishipsashecalledout,“WhatdoIneedtodo?”ThenhisattentionturnedtoMitzi,whowastuggingonhisjacket.
“So.Yousingle?”ChapterThirteen
“TheBreak”
ITWAS3:15A.M.ANDSEWANEELOOKEDATTHECLOCKONCEAGAIN.Shewassureithadbeenatleastforty-fiveminutessincethelasttimeshe’dlooked.
Ithadbeentwelve.
Thoughtsmovedinandoutofhermindlikehummingbirdsatafeeder.
Hedidn’tpityher.Didhe?No,hedidn’t.Thewayhehadbeenwithher,histouch,hiscare,hisdetermination.Noneofithadfeltlikepity.Sheknewthedifference.
Butshehadn’tbeenhisfirstchoice.He’dwantedAdaku.She’dbeenaconsolationprize.
AndwhatabouttheirgoodbyeinVegas?Whydidn’thegiveherhisnumber?Whydidn’theaskforhers?
Sheflippedover.Pulledherpillowtight.Closedhereye.
Imagesofthetwoofthem,together,rushedin.
Sittingoppositehiminthesoakingtub,afterward.
Thetextureofhisskinmadeslickbythewater.
Herfingerstracingthehollowofhisthroat.
Shefloppedover,hopingtoleavehermindontheotherside.Butthewordsthey’dexchangedcamethroughliketauntingghosts.
He’dsaid,I’dlovetocontinuethis,but..
She’dsaid,noofcourse
He’dsaid,it’sprobablybettertoleaveit
She,crushedundertheweightofherlies,couldonlyagree.
Thenhe’dtouchedherscar.Simple,unencumbered,natural.
ThenBlahscreamed,Monster.
Sheopenedhereye.3:18A.M.Unbelievable.
Sheflippedoncemore,reachedcompulsivelyforherphone,buttherewasnomessagesincetheoneCarloshadsenthoursago:Blahhadstabilized,shehadn’tneededtogotothehospital.Butthey’dkeeptheAtivaninherforafewmoredays.ProbablybestifSewaneegavehersomespace.
Nomessagefrom“Brock,”either.
Howwouldshegetoverbeingsomeone’s–God,she’dhatedthetermsincethefirsttimeshe’dhearditfromsomewalkingjockstrapinjuniorhigh–sloppyseconds?
Butthatwasn’tit.Thatwasn’teventherightterminology.Whatwasshetryingto…
She’dbeenused.Thatwasit,that’swhathadhappened.Plainandsimple.She’dbeenusedbyamanwhoknewexactlywhathewasdoing.HewasBrockMcFuckingNight.He’dappearedtoherlikeaherooutofaRomancenovelbecausethatwaspreciselywhathewas.That’sallhewas.Butshe?Shewasalltooreal.
Exceptforthelying.
“Youhavegottogetsomesleep,”shegroanedoutloud,parentingherself.Sheflippedonemoretime,squeezedhereyeshut,andrefusedtoopenit.
3:19A.M
Dammit.
WHENSEWANEEFIRSTheardtheknocking,itpresentedaschurchbellsinthedreamshewashaving.Aforeigncity,springtimesun,thevaguesenseofunease,asifshewerelateforsomethingshecouldn’tremember.Butchurchbellsshouldn’tsoundsodeadened,soinelegant.
Sheopenedhereyeintosilence.Waited.Theknockingcameagain.Thistimemoreofabanging.
Adaku!Theridetotheairport!
Shesprangoutofbed,trippingoverherpursefromthenightbefore,andflungherselftowardthedoor.
ThesunwasfullbehindAdaku’snewmilitary-shortafro.“Morning!”
Sewaneebroughtahanduptoshieldhereye.“What’sgoingon?”shecroaked.
Adakumisinterpretedherunwelcomingtone.Shegrinnedandstage-whispered,“AmIinterrupting?”
“What?”Thenightrushedthroughherlikeanexpresstrainthroughastationstop.“Oh.No.Notatall.”
Adakudeflated.“Boo.Why?”
Sewaneetriedtoformwords,butshecouldn’t.Shejuststoodthere.Speechless.Motionless.
“Oh,babe,”Adakumurmured.“Okay,okay!Inside!”
Adakusetheronthecouch,buzzedaroundthekitchenforaminute,andthentherewasaglassofwaterinfrontofSwanandacommandtodrinkit.ShedidandanotherminutelatertherewasacupofcoffeeinfrontofherandherfeetwereinAdaku’slapontheloveseatandAdakusaid,“Whathappened?”andSewaneetoldher.Everything.
Theywereontheirsecondcupofcoffeebythetimeshewasdone.Itwassad,andstillsurreal,butnotquitesodireasithadseemedwhenAdakuarrived.
“I’msosorryaboutBlahBlah,”Adakusaid.
“Atleastshewon’trememberit.”
Adakuhuffedabittersweetchuckle.“True.NowBrockontheotherhand,orshouldIsayNick–”
Sewaneeheldupahand.“Idon’twanttotalkabouthim.Them.”
Adakupersisted.“Okay,but,Imean,fromwhereI’msitting,itseems…insane.”Thelastwordcameoutinagiddylaugh.“Onenightstandturnstounwittingcorrespondence!That’sFatedMatesstuff–”
“MorelikebadFantasy,”Sewaneeinterrupted,stood,andwanderedintothekitchen.“Don’tromanticizeit.It’sawful.Humiliating.It’s–”Shesawawhitepaperbagonthecounter.“DidyoubringmeabreakfastburritofromBeachwood?”
“Idid,”Adakurespondedfromthelivingroom.
“Aww,thankyou.”Shetoreintothebag.“Where’syours?”
“Nocando.TheonlypartofaburritoIcaneatrightnowisthepaperit’swrappedin.”
Sewaneeputtheburritointhemicrowave,shookherhead,andcontinuedtalkingfromthekitchen.“Iprobablyshouldn’teatthis,either,huh?Oh,you’dbeproudofme,Istarteddoingpush-upslastweek.Imean,Ifigurethey’llgivemeatrainer,butthankGodI’mnotdoingthebootcampwithyourightnow,Iwouldnotsurvive–”Shegasped,coveredhermouth.“OhmyGod,A,I’msuchanidiot.IleftmycaratSeasonslastnight.Shit!I’llorderusaride,I’msosorry–”
ShespunaroundandAdaku,who’dcometostandattheentranceofthekitchen,said,“Youdidn’tgetthepart.”
Themicrowavebeeped,butSewaneedidn’tmove.Asifshehadbeenshotbutthesurpriseoftheimpactprecededthepainofthebullet.
“I’msosorry,Swan.Istillcan’tbelieveit.”Adakulookedwretched,asifshehadpulledthetrigger.
Sewaneeturnedbacktothemicrowave.Openedthedoor.Removedtheburrito.Tookahugebite.ShecontinuedtoeatuntilAdakusaid,“Talktome.”
Sewaneeswallowed,preemptivelysteadiedhervoice.“Whendidyou–”
“Yesterday.Ididn’twanttotellyoubeforeyourbignight.ButI’mleavingandIwantedtotellyoufacetofaceand…”Shedriftedoff.
Afteronemoresuspendedmoment,Sewaneetookanotherbite.“It’sfine.Thanksforlettingmeknow.I’llgogetready.”
“No,Swan,you’renotridingwithmetotheairport,that’sridiculous.”
“Yes,Iam!”Shetookanaggressivebite.“ItoldyouI’dtakeyouandIwill.”Shebroughttherestoftheburritowithherwhensheleftthekitchen.
Adakufollowedherintothelivingroom.“Isawyouraudition.Itwassogood,Swan!Itwasmorethangood.”Sewaneechuckled.“Itwas.Theyjustdecidedto–”
“Goadifferentway?”Sewaneedidnottrytohidethesarcasticbitternessinhervoice.Theclassicit’snotyou,it’smebrush-offofHollywood.
“Colinwantedyou,”Adakusoothed,“butthestudio–everyonethoughtyouwereincredible.Trulybrilliant,theysaid.”
Shesearchedforherphone,tookanotherbite,andasked,“Whogotit?”
“Swan.”
“What?Someonefamouswhothey’llugly-upinsteadofsomeoneunknownwhoalreadyis?”
“Sewanee–”
“IcanseetheOscarcampaignforbestmakeupalready–”
“Ithadnothingtodowith–”
“Whogotthepart,A?”
Adakusighed.“Theyfoundthis,thisgirl,AmberSomething.She’saYouTubecelebrity,influencer,TikTokpersonality,whatever.Whenshewasseventeen,herarmwasbittenoffbyashark.”
Sewaneechokeddownthelastoftheburrito.“Missingarmbeatsoutmissingeye.”Shesnappedherfingerssardonically.“Everytime.”
Adakushookherhead.“Yougottastop.It’saboutfollowers.Shehaslikefortymillionfollowers.Youthinktalentusedtotakeabackseat?Nowit’sinthetrunk.Shehasameditationappandcookbooksandshit.Buttheywantedyou!”
Sewaneecouldn’tcontainitanymore.“Sowhathappenedto‘Icandothis’?Whathappenedto‘starpower,babe’?”
Adakuputherhandout,likeacrossingguardtryingtoslowSewaneedown.“Itried,Ireallydid.Iwasaspissedasyou,believeme.Buttheirloss!We’llfindsomethingelse.Somethingbetter!You’rebackinthesaddlenow!Itwasjustoneaudition.Thishappenedforareason,okay?Everything’smeanttobe!You’llsee.”
Therewasamomentineveryargumentwhereitcouldend.Nothingirreparablehadbeensaid,nomajorboundaryhadbeencrossed.Therewasanaturalpointofnoreturn.
Sewaneeblewpastthatmoment.
Sheflailedherarmslikeoneofthoseinflatabletube-menoutsideacardealership.“Stopit!Justshutup!Everythinghappensforareason?!YouknowthelasttimeIthoughteverythinghappenedforareason?WhenIhadtwofuckingeyes!Everything’smeanttobe?!Wasthismeanttobe?”Shejabbedherfingerathereyesofast,sohard,shedidn’thavetimetorecallthatshewasn’twearinghereyepatch.Shehitherscarredeyesocketandthewaveofpainbentherinhalf,raisedhergorge.
“Swan!”
ShefeltAdakuracetowardher,andshepushedherback,onesolidshottowhatshethoughtmusthavebeenherhip.“Backoff!”Shetouchedherfacegently.Sawbloodonherfingertip.
“You’rebleeding,”Adakugasped.
Itwasn’tgushing.Thescarwaslong-healed,itwouldn’thaveopened.Shemusthavecaughtherfingernailonit.Therewasarationalpartofherbrainstillworking,thatcouldprocessallofthislogically.Buttheotherpartkeptloopingthroughtheunfairnessofalltheshittythingsthathadhappenedandherinabilitytoacceptthembecausetheynevershouldhavehappenedinthefirstplace.Nottoher.Shehadneverthought,notonce,poorme;butshecouldneverescapethinking,whyme?
Shelungedbackintothekitchen,tothefreezer,whippedthedooropen,grabbedahandfulofice,andslappedittoherface,mutteringthewholetime,“Thisisallonyou.Youwantmetoactagain.Youneedmetobewholeagain.Youneedmetowin.Becauseforyou,ifitdoesn’tallworkoutintheend,thenyou’dhavetoadmitthateverythingdoesn’thappenforafuckingreason.”
“Swan…”
Great,Adakuwascrying.Well,sowasSewanee.Ittookheramomenttorealizeitwiththeicestartingtodripdownhercheek,butthattightnessinherchest,Adaku’sblurriness,herinabilitytodrawafullbreath?Thatwastears.Andtheymadeherfurious.
“Youcan’tfixthis.Youwillnotmakethisbetter.Nomatterhowmuchpositive-thinkinghorseshityouslingatme.”
Adakusteppedtowardher.“Tellmewhattodo.”
Sewaneemethertoe-to-toeandscreamed,“Letmehatetheworldandwhatit’sdonetome!”AtAdaku’sstrickenface,shespunawayandsobbed,“Andleave!Please!”
ShewascryingtoohardtohearAdaku’sownsobs,herfootstepswalkingaway.Allsheknewwaswithinaminute,sheheardthefrontdoorclosesoftly.Shemadeittothesinkjustintimetothrowup.
SHEDIDN’TKNOWhowlongshestoodthereatthecounter,lookingoutattheviewofthecity,slowlycomingbacktoherself.Shejustknewshehadnoideawhattodonext.
Sheturnedonthefaucetandwashedhertormentdownthedrain.Itnearlymadeherthrowupagain.
Tea.Sheshouldhydrate.Amanageablefirststep.
SheopenedacabinetandreachedfortheTea-For-Onegiftfromhermom.
Themomentitslippedfromherhandsandontothetilefloor,shatteringinto,conservatively,abillionpiecessheknewshewouldbefindingmonthslater,felt,inhindsight,preordained.
Shecontinuedtostandthere.
Whatdoyouwanttodo,Swan?shethought.Shouldshepickupthelargerpieces,atleast?Shouldshegetabroom?Shouldshetrycryingagain?Shouldshescreamherthroatbloody?
Intheend,shedidnoneofthosethings.Instead,sheleft.Shewalkedoutofthekitchen.Shesteppedonafewpieces,theircrunchhavingnonoticeableeffect.Shewalkedintoherbedroom,grabbedaduffelbagoutofthecloset,snatcheduparbitrarypiecesofclothing,andthrewtheminside,zippeditup,walkedbackintothelivingroom,pickedupherphone,orderedaride,tookonelastlookattheshatteredpieces,andsaid,aloud,“Iwantmymom.”
ASTHECARmadeitswaytoLAX,Sewaneesatinthebackgazingoutthewindow.Shefeltgoodaboutherspontaneousdecision.Therewasevenasenseofrighteousrelief.Shewasn’texactlysurefromwhat,butitconvincedhershewasdoingtherightthing.Thiswasnecessary.
Itwasalsoexciting.She’dneverdonesomethinglikethis,justgoneonherphoneandbookedthecheapestseatonthenextflightoutwhileinthebackseatofacaralreadyheadingtotheairport.Thedestinationhadn’tmattered,butwhenshe’dtextedhermomtofindoutwhereshewouldbeforthenextfewdaysandhermotherhadreplied,“Venice”…well.Maybesomethingsweremeanttobe.
Herphonedingedbutshedidn’twanttodealwithit.“Brock”hadtextednow,afewtimes,butshehadn’treadthem.Whatdifferencediditmake?ShewasgoingtoItalynow.But,she’dalsotextedAmandatotellhershe’dbeunreachableforawhile,tocallHenryifBlahneededanything.Whatifthiswasherreply?
Sewaneelookedatherphone.
Shit.Jason.
Shescannedthee-mail:
HeySarah!Twomoreepisodestogo,scriptsattached!Asthesearetheconsummationscenes,Ithinktheyshouldbeperformedinduet,sharinglinesbackandforth.SoI’dliketoscheduleatimetohaveyouandBrockpatchintorecordtogether.
Absofuckinglutelynot.
Thedriverhadpulleduptothecurbandwasgettingouttoretrieveherbag.Shequicklytyped:
Notavailable.AskNick.
Shesentit,turnedoffherphone,gotout,thankedthedriver,grabbedherbag,andwalkedintotheterminal.
Nextstop,Venice.Forrealthistime.
Part5
Characterisdestiny.
–Heraclitus
Pickaflaw,anyflaw.Clockitatthebeginning.Letitstalkthecharacterinthemiddle.Thenitpounces.Theensuingmomentoffightorflight.You’vedoneyourjob.Don’tovercomplicatethis.
–JuneFrenchinCosmopolitanChapterFourteen
“TheRetreat”
THEFIRSTTHINGSEWANEESAWWHENSHEWALKEDINTOTHEPENSIONEhermotherhadarrangedforherwasMarilynandStusittingintwooverstuffedclubchairsinthelobby.Inunison,theybeamedandraisedtheirhandsintheairasifshe’dscoredatouchdown.
“Theresheis!”hermotherexclaimed,standing.
“Niceofyoutostopby.Cometoborrowacupofsugar?”Stujoked,groaningashe,too,stood.
Sewaneefeltthebackofhereyetightenwithtears.Marilynlookedsogood.Sohappy.Hersilver-streakedbrowncurlsfelljustbelowherchin,herfacewasbronzed,andherblueeyesbright.She’dalwaysbeenatrimwoman,butnowshewasfit.Strongfromwalkingovercobblestones,hikingthroughcastleruins,andscalingmountainstogettobreathtakingviews.Shewassixty-fiveandshe’dneverbeenmorebeautiful.
Astheyhugged,MarilynaskedinSewanee’sear,“Towhatdoweowethepleasure?”Shepushedback,lookeddeepintoherdaughter’seye.“Workingtoohardagain?”
Sewaneeshruggedawayfromhermother,mumbling,“Always,”andreachedforStu.She’donlymethimtwicebefore,butwithinfiveminutesofthefirstmeetingshe’dlovedhim.
ShesteppedbackandsawthatMarilynwaspeeringather.“Butthere’ssomethingelse?”
“Thereareafewsomethingselse.”
Hermotherraisedaneyebrow.
Sewaneetookabreath.“Dad.”
“Well,whenishenot–”
“AndAdaku.”
“Ada?Why–”
“AndBlah.”
“Oh,no.”
“Andacting.Androbots.AndMarkissellinghisplace.Andthere’saboy.Who’stwoboys,actually.Who’rethesameboy.”Sewaneetookanotherdeepbreath.
MarilynhandedStuoneofthekeycardstoSewanee’sroom.“Mylove,wouldyou–”
“Yup,”Stusaid,tookSewanee’sduffelbag,andsmilinglywalkedaway.Easygoing,uncomplicated,generousStu.
Marilyntuckedherhandintothecrookofherdaughter’selbow,leadingherontothehotel’spatio.SheorderedthemtwoAperolSpritzesinhalf-decenttouristItalianandthankedtheserverforthebowlofolivesandbasketofbreadsticksheplacedonthetable.
“Let’sstartwiththeboy,”shesaid,decisively,placingapalmflatonthewoodentable.AsSewaneetoldherthewholesordidtale,Marilyn’sfaceprogressedfromslightsurprisetodamp-eyedsweetnesstoshockto,finally–muchtoSewanee’sconsternation–uncontrollablelaughter.
Sewaneepausedtheretellingandglared.“Mom.”
Marilynwavedhernapkininfrontofherface,asurrender.Shetried,valiantly,tosay,“I’msorry,”butthewordstumbledaroundinherlaughterlikesneakersinadryer.
“Whydoeseveryonefindthissofunny?”Sewaneegroused,reachingforherdrink,waitingforhermomtogetitallout.
“Becauseit’slikeamovie!”Marilyncried,wipingherface,pushingherglassesuptothecrownofherhead.“It’sjustso…”andshelostitagain,bentatthewaist.
“Allright,youknowwhat…”Buttherewasnothingtosay,noemptythreattolevel.Hermother’sreaction–solikeNick’s,solikeAdaku’s–simultaneouslyannoyedandhumbledher.Itforcedhertoconsidereverythinganew.Itstillstung.But.Therewasanothersidetoit.Marilynsawit.Nicksawit.Adakusawit.Andmaybe,ifyoulookedatitfromacertaindirection,maybe,incertainways,itwas,maybe,alittlebitfunny.Maybe.
Marilynregainedcontrolofherself,pattedhereyeswithhernapkin.“I’msorry,Swanling.Truly.”Theysatinsilenceforamoment,eachtakingasipoftheirSpritz.ThenMarilyncontinuedwithagentlevoice,“Andwhat’sgoingonwithyourgrandmother?”
Sewaneeexplainedallofit.Blah’scurrentstate,thenecessarymove,theexorbitantamountofmoneyshewaspreparedtospend,andwhySewaneefeltitwasimportanttokeepBlahinafamiliarplacewithfamiliarpeople,whateveritcost.
“Ofcourse,”Marilyninterjectedquicklyattheend,likeitwasanobviousconclusion,whichvalidatedsomethinginsideSewaneeshehadn’tknownneededvalidation.“Surely,Henry’sonthesamepage?”
Sewaneeleanedacrossthetable.“He’snoteveninthesamebook,Mom.HeresentsBlahforgoingtoSeasonsinthefirstplace.Resentsherforusinguphersavingstostaythere.Resentsherforneverlisteningtohim,aboutanything.Andworstofall,IthoughthewouldbethrilledwhenItoldhimIwaspayingforit!Thatitwouldrelievehimofanyburdenhefelt,freehimfromalltheresentments,givehimtheopportunitytoappreciatehisdaughter,maybeeven,Idon’tknow,lovehisdaughter?!”
Marilynchuckledsadly.“Oh,honey.Thatwasnevergoingtowork.”ShetookasipofSpritzandfishedtheorangesliceout,eatingitwithrelish.
“Idon’tunderstandhim.Itry,but…It’slikehe’sjealousofmeorsomething.Whichiscrazy,butthat’showitfeels.”
“Well.Theysayjealousyisnothingmorethanadmirationturnedinsideout.”
“Mom…”
“Heprobablyisjealous.He’sdefinitelyresentful.Butithasnothingtodowithyoubeinghisdaughter,ormebeinghiswife,orBlahbeinghismother,orevenlittleCoedKellybeingwhatever.”Theorangerindwaspoisedlikeacynicalcigarettebetweenherfingers.“Weareallonebigballofwomen.Andsorrytosay,butthat’syourfather’srealproblem.”
“Howso?”
Marilynsatforward,droppedtherindonherplate.Sheputherchininherhandsandpaused,thinking.“Yourfatherdidlovesomethingonce.Notsomeone,something:NewYorkCity.Andwhenhisfatherdied,helefthis‘love’tobewithhismother,tohelphismother.Tobelovedbyhismother?Todotherightthing?Idon’tknow.Hejustwantedtofeelusefulandendedupfeelinguseless.Notonpurpose,but…BarbarawasBarbara.”Marilynshrugged.“Henryfeltrejected,unappreciatedforeverythinghehadgivenuptohelpher.Hewashurt.He’sstillhurt.”
Marilynwasquietforawhile.Sewaneecouldseehertongueworkingatherteethinsideherclosedmouth,tryingtodislodgeorangepith.“Itallboilsdowntothis,Ithink:Yourfatherhasneverfeltappreciated.Themalecodewordforfeelingloved.Andsadly,Henryisamanwhoalwaysfoundlovetobeaquestion,neverananswer.ItstartedwithBarbaraandmetastasizedineverywomanwhoevercrossedhispath.Sounhealthy.Notthathewouldeversaythat,notthathewouldeveraskforthat,Godforbid.Asfarasyourfatherisconcerned,womenaresupposedtointuitthis.”
Marilynleanedback,sighed.“Soyoutakeallofthathurtandresentment,sufferedinsilence,andyouletitsimmerfordecadesanditdistillsdownintoanger.”Shelookedoutatthecanalnexttothem,thewatercloseenoughtothrowlate-afternoonripplesontoherface.“That’swhatIfoundsohard,Swan.Ididn’tknowhowtoloveanangrymanwhopretendedtobefine.”TostaveoffSewanee’sresponse,Marilynheldupahand,herleftone,ringless.“Wehadagoodlifetogether.Lifeisneveronething.ButIthinkIwashisconsolationprize.Andifthere’sonethingI’velearned,Swanling:neverbeaconsolationprize.”
HowcouldSewaneenotthinkofNickwhenMarilynsaidthis?Didn’tthisjustifyherfeelings?AndthenMarilynadded,“Especiallyyourown,”whichspunSewanee’sheadaround.
Aheavysilencefelloverthem,andshetookanolive,washeditdownwithasipofSpritz.Thesaltandoilandthealcoholandthebitternessandtheprosecco’sfizzhitherandseemedtoimmediatelyrestoreherequilibrium.TheItalianshaveitallfiguredout,shethoughtabstractly.Sheconsideredherwordsasshechewed.“Everythingfeelsfake,Mom.Likethisisnotmylife.LikeI’mactingmylife.LikeI’mplayingoutsomeoneelse’s,waitingtogetmineback.”Sheswallowed.“AndthenItriedtogetitbackbecause”–sherolledhereye–“AdakuthoughtIcouldanditturnsoutIcan’t.”
Marilynsquinted,tryingtoputthispuzzletogether.“WhatdidAdado–”
“Shejust…shepushes.She’ssorelentlesslyoptimisticandshedoesn’t…shedoesn’tunderstandwhyIhaven’t–”Shesnappedherfingers.“–gottenovereverything.Movedon.Forgottenaboutit.ButIhave!Inmyownway.”
Thelastcameoutmoredefensivelythanshe’dintended.Sewaneewaitedtohearthathermotheragreedwithher,whileMarilyntookanothersipofherSpritzandsaid,“Well,thesethingsdotaketime.”
“Exactly.”Relieved,Sewaneepickedupherdrinkagain.
“Butisitpossible,”Marilynbegan,andSewaneesettheglassbackdown,“thatyoumayhavegotteninyourownwayandmistakenthatfordoingityourownway?”
“AreyouagreeingwithA?”
“Idon’tthinkso.I’mjustsayingtocheckinwithyourself.”
“Youdon’tthinkIhave?Ido?”
Seeinghermother’sunvoicedanswer,thedesirenottohurtwarringwithMarilyn’scompulsiveneedtotellthetruth,instantlybroughttears.Sewaneesurreptitiouslywipedhercheek,pivotingawayfromtherestofthecrowdonthepatio.“Iwantedmylifeanditwantedme.Andnowitdoesn’tandIstilldo.”
Marilynleanedforward,tookherhand.“Ofcourseyoudo.Andyourbestfriendwantsitforyou.AndsodoI.Andsodoesanyonewhocaresaboutyou.ButifI’mbeinghonest,Ithinkweallwantthatonlybecauseyouhaven’tgivenusanalternative.Ithinkeveryonearoundyouiswaitingforyoutoacceptyourselfasyouarenow,sowecanaswell.Andthebitchofitisyou’rewaitingforeveryonetoacceptyouasyouarenowsoyoucanacceptyourselfand,sorry,butlove,it’syourmove.You’vegottagofirst.”
Sewanee’sheadbowed,asifphysicallyunabletostayuprightundertheweightofhermother’swords.Sheknewitwasherturntosaysomething.ButshewassavedbyMarilynleaningtowardherdaughter’sheadandrepositioningherglassesonthebridgeofhernose.“Youhaveagrayhair!”
Sewanee’sheadpoppedup.“What?Where?!”
“Rightinthepart.”
“Well,yankitout!”
Marilynchortledandpulledaway.“Ohhhh,no!Nope.”Shestood.“You’regoingtoleaveitbe.You’reatigerandyouearnedthatstripe.”Shebentover,kissedthetopofSewanee’shead,rightwherethatstripehadsprouted.“Ithinkyoushouldrest.Takeafewhours,we’llcomebackatseventotakeyoutodinner.”Marilyn’seyesflickedtowardthelobbyandSewaneenowsawStuhadstationedhimselfinachairthere,readingabook.“Adelightfullittletrattoria.Andtomorrownight,there’saplaceStuistryingtogetusareservationatbutit’soneofthosesix-month-outsituations.”Sheshrugged.“Ifhecan’t,well,we’llbeforcedtowanderthecanalseatinggelato.”
“Quellehorreur,”Sewaneemurmured.
HermotheraffectedaperfectItalianhand,fingertipsupandtogether,agarlicbulb.“Cheorrore,”sheenunciated.Shewinkedandsettledherpashminamoresecurelyoverhershoulders.“Ciao,bella!”
ATSEVENO’CLOCK,afteranapassolidasifshe’dbeenanesthetizedforsurgery,SewaneemethermotherandStuinthelobbyandtheyleftthepensione,thenightairwarmforMarch.Theywalkedtoapicture-perfectrestaurantandslippedintoatightcornertable.Thescentofgarlicandwinecorkcapturedher,thefeelofwhitelinenunderherfingertipscomfortedher,thetasteofBarolocalmedher.Sheleanedhershoulderagainstthewoodplankwallandwatchedthecandlelightplayinhermother’seyesandoverStu’scapablehandashedishedupside-platesofthehouse’sspecialfishrisotto.Thepleasuresofotherpatronswaftedthroughtherestaurantandcombinedwiththeambienthumofconversation.Whentheirplateshadbeenclearedandthey’dsharedanaffogato,theysqueezedthemselvespasttheotherdinersandslippedbackoutintothenow-chillynight.
MarilynandStuinsistedonwalkingherbacktothepensione.GettinglostinVenicewasn’tdifficult,itwasagiven.Shehadnoideawheretheywere,mightaswellhavebeeninamaze.Theyturnedleft,madeasharpright,walkeddownastreetthatwasnarrowerthanahallway,downaflightoftinysteps,undersomearbitraryandbeautifulwoodbeams,andtheretheywere:backatthepensione’sgardengate.
Shewasevenmoresurprisedbythefigurestandingintheshadowsabouttenfeetinfrontofthem.
Shestoppedwalking.Stared.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Nick’shandswentouttohissides.“Thisisthegrovel.”
Helookedwrecked.Hecarriedasinglebackpack,hishairstuckupinafewdifferentdirections,andheclearlyhadn’tshavedindays.Heworeblacksweatpants,agrayTrinityCollegeDublinhoodie,andglasses.Shedidn’tknowheworeglasses.He’dneverlookedworseandshecouldn’tbelievehowattractedshewastohim.ThisishowhewouldbeonaSundaymorningwhenhewaslongpasttryingtoimpressawoman.Hewasalluringinasuit,hewasdevastatinginatux,buthewasdangerouslikethis.
“Howdidyoufindme?”
“Mark.Afteryoue-mailedJason,hecalledmeandsaid,‘whatdidyoudo?’Youweren’tansweringyourtexts,soJasontoldmetotryMark.Idrovetothestudioand,onceIexplainedwhoIwas,Mark,too,said,‘whatdidyoudo?’Hegrilledmeforanhourbeforetellingmewhereyouwere.”
Shepulledhersweatertighteraroundherbody.
“Canwetalk?”
Sewaneeturnedslightlyandhiseyesdartedtothetwopeoplestandingbehindher.Shewasabouttointroducethem,buthermomjumpedaheadofher.“Hi,I’mMarilyn,themother.”ShelookedentirelytoopleasedforSewanee’staste.“Andthisismypartner,StuHart.”
Nickstraightenedup,quicklytookStu’soutstretchedhand.“Pleasure.”HethentookMarilyn’shandandsaid,“Ma’am,I’mNicholasSullivanandIhadaweemisunderstandingwithyourdaughtersoI’mheretogetitsorted.”
Marilynheldon.“Well!WelcometoVenice,Nick.OrshouldIsay,Brock?”
“Mom.”
“Shetoldmeeverything.I’veneverlaughedsohard–”
“Mom!”
“Whereareyoustaying?”Shedidn’tlookatherdaughterwhenshesaid,“Swanling,whydon’tyouseeiftheyhaveavailabilityhere?”
“Iactuallyfoundaplaceoverthere.”Nickwavedahandtotheright,considered,andwavedagaintotheleft.“Orpossiblythere.Thankyou,though.”
“We’restayingontheship,butIwantedSwantobeabletoimmerseherselfinthecity,soweputheruphere.HerfirsttimeinVeniceandall.”
Nick’seyesturnedtoSewanee.“FirsttimeinVenice?”
Shemethiseyes.“Therealone.”
“You’vebeenherebefore,Nick?”Stuasked.
“NotsinceIwasalad.We’dholidayinLombardyoccasionallyandmyaunthadathingforVivaldi.”
“Oh,”MarilynbreathedandSewaneewatchedithappen,watchedtheNickSpellsettleitselfoverhermother.Dammit.“Nick,youshouldjoinusfordinnertomorrownight.Stu,canwemakethereservationforfour?”
“Mom!”Sewanee’svoicewasoverloudinthequietgarden.Shecourse-corrected.“That’sverythoughtful,butNickjustgothereandI’msureStu–”
“Leaveittome,Swanners.”StuturnedtoNick.“Restup,buddyboy,thisisn’tadinner,it’sanexperience.WewenttherethelasttimetheshipcamethroughVeniceand–”
“Letthemgoinblind,Stu,”Marilyninterrupted,“thewaywedidthefirsttime.”
“You’reright,you’reright.”Stunodded,buthadtoadd,“I’lljustsaythis:wunderkindchef,twenty-eight.Michelinstar.Onanisland.Andtheentireplace…ataMarriott.AMarriott!Canyoubelieveit?”HeturnedtoMarilyn.“Okay,I’mdone.”
NickglancedsheepishlyatSewanee.“That’ssokind,really,thankyousomuch,butI’mnotsure–”
Marilynpattedhishand.“TheboatleavesatsevenfromtheSt.Mark’sdock.We’llmeetyouthere.”Shebrookednoargument.Sheturnedtoherdaughterandkissedhercheek.“It’llbefun!Ciao!”AndsheandStuhurriedawaydownthepath.
NickandSewaneestoodinsilenceforamoment.Whenshefinallyopenedhermouth,Nickhandedherhisphone.“Pressrecord.”
“What?”
“Framemeup.”Hesteppedaway,turnedbackaround,facedher.“Isitrecording?”
Noideawhatwashappening,Sewaneepressedthebigredbuttononhisphone’sscreenandsaid,“Uh,yeah?”
Nickdroppedtohiskneesand,afteramoment,bentover.Helaidfullyout,armsforward,inchild’spose.
“Whatthehell–”
“I’mnotworthy!”heyelledintothepavers.“Havemercy!”
“OhmyGod,Nick!”
Hebegancrawlingforward.“Iwillkissyourfeetnow!”
Sewaneejumpedbackward.“Youmostcertainlywillnot,whatthefuckiswrongwithyou?”
“I’msorry!”Stillyelling.“Doyouacceptmyapology?!”
“Get.Up.”
Heexplained,atnormalvolume,“Ican’tgetupuntilyouacceptmyapology.”
“What?”
“IpromisedMark,”hemumbledintotheground.“Heneedsvideoproof.”
Inspiteofherself,Sewaneelaughed.Sheflippedthephonearoundandsaidintothecamera,“Iforgivehim.Okay?Yousadist.Jesus.”Sheturnedthecameraoff.“He’ssuchanasshole.Please,justgetup.”
Nicksatbackonhisknees,buthedidn’tstand.Hegazedupather.“Iamsorry.Ishouldhaveseenhowupsetyouwere.Ishouldhaveseenthatsideofit.Butinthemoment,Ifounditfunnyasallhell,andnowIseeit’snotfunny,notfunnyatall,youwereright–”
“No,youwereright,”Sewaneeshrugged,“itisfunnyasallhell.”
Nickdroppedhisheadback,closedhiseyes,groaned,“Oh,thankJaysus,Ihaven’tbeenabletostoplaughing.”Hemethergazeagain.“Still.Pleaseunderstand,Inevermeantto–”
Sheheldupahand.“Canwejust…thisissuchanunnecessarilyelaboratewaytogetmetofinishtheseries.”
Nick’svoicewasstrong,tight,alljokinggone.“Fecktheseries.I’mnotherebecauseoftheseries.You’llfinishitoryouwon’t.Icouldn’tcareless.”
Shewouldfinishtheseries.Shewasaprofessional.Thatwasneverinquestion,evenifshe’dgivenJasontheoppositeimpression.She’donlyneededtime.Butthefacthehadn’tcomeforbusinesssoftenedherabitandcompelledhertosay,“OfcourseI’llfinishtheseries.”
“Well.IguessI’llbegoing,then.”Buthedidn’tmove.
Shehuffedasmalllaugh.“Whatareyoudoinghere?Andwillyoupleasegetup?”
Hestood,brushedoffhisknees.“Weneverhadourdate.”
“YouflewtoItalyforadate?”
Hegrinned.“Well,I’mthe’round-the-bendguy.”
“Areyou?”
Hisgrinwavered.“No,notreally.Iusedtobe.Iwanttobeagain.”Heswallowed.“Idon’twanttobeafraidofoystersanymore,soIgotonaplane.”
Athishonesty,Sewaneelookedatherfeet.“I’msorry,too.I’msorryIleft.Theothernight,butalsothecountry.Iwasjust…youknow.”Shebroughtaflathandupparalleltoherjaw.Atcapacity.
“Yeah,well,itwasalot.Forallfourofus.”Hisattemptatlevitymadehersmileandhematchedit.“Soyou’renotangry?”Hesoundedhopeful.
Shehadtothinkaboutthat.Wasshe?Shewasalotofthings,butwasshemad?“No.Notatyou.Notanymore.”
TheItalianmoonwasfullinhiseyeswhenhistoneshiftedandhesaid,“You’resobeautiful.”
“Nick–”
Hecringed.“Sorry.Right,wehavetotalkfirst.I’llthrowmyselfatyourfeetlater.”
Sheheldupahandagain.“No.Nofeet-throwing.Please.”Shewrappedherarmsaroundherself.“Let’sgositinthelobby,it’schilly.”
“Yousure?Idon’twanttopressureyou–”
“Oh,nowyou’reworriedaboutboundaries?Go.”Itfeltsogoodtoteasehim,torememberthat,alltheconfusionandconvolutionaside,theyactuallyenjoyedeachother.Theyalwayshad,eachiteration,eachinteraction
Theycommandeeredatableintheemptylobbyandtheboreddeskmanagerwasmorethanhappytosetthemupwithapotofpeppermintteaandsomebiscotti.Nickexcusedhimselftothebathroomandarrivedbackjustastheteadid,lookinglikehe’dsplashedwateronhisfaceandrunhishandsthroughhishair.
ShepouredthembothacupandtheysippedinsilencewhileSewaneeembeddedherselfinthemoment.Thebuttercupglowfromthedecofloorlamps,streaksofmoonlightlimningtheripplesofthecanaloutthewindowbehindNick’schair,theoccasionalcreakofafloorboardfromahallwayabovethem.Eventually,Sewaneefeltwarmenough,insideandout,toask,“So,whatwouldyouliketotalkabout?”
Nicktookasipoftea.“Myaunt.”
Notwhatshe’dexpected.She’dthoughtthey’dimmediatelystartexhumingtheirrelationship,sortingwhatwastruthfromwhatwasfiction.Togobacktothebeginninganddigthemselvesout.But,really,whatwasmoreformativethanfamily?
NICK’SMOTHERHADbeenpregnantattwenty-oneanddeadfromanoverdoseattwenty-five.Hehadnomemoryofher.Whichheknewsoundedsadderthanitactuallywas.Hehadn’tknownwhohisfatherwasuntila23andMetestfiveyearsago,whichledhimtoamiddle-agedfinanceguylivinginNewJerseywithtwokidsincollegeandnohonest-to-GodmemoryofNick’smother,either.Buthe’dbeenniceandapologeticandhadwantedtohearNick’sstoryandthisiswhatNickhadtoldhim:
Hisaunt,DeborahJuneSullivan,hadbeenolderthanhismotherbyaboutadecade.She’dbeenaradicalfeminist(atleastbyPrescott,Arizona,circa1994standards)doinggraduateworkinIreland.Shehadn’twantedatoddler;shewas,afterall,intentionallyhusband-andchild-less.ButNickwastheonlyfamilyshehadleftandJunecouldbesentimentalwhenshewasn’tbeingcontrarian.TheylivedinDublinfortwelveyears,butwhenJunebrokeupwithTom,theclosestthingNickhadtoafather,shemovedthembacktotheplaceshesworeshe’dneverreturn:Prescott.Why?Nickdidn’tknow.ExceptthatJunelikedagoodfight.
Oncehe’dcoveredhighschoolinArizona,summersinDublinatTom’spubhangingaroundmusicians,best-friendingJasonsophomoreyear,andtheteasingheenduredbecauseofhisfunnyaccentandthefacthisauntwrote“smut,”hesummeditallupbysaying,“Youknow,typicaldysfunctionalfamilywhenyougetdowntoit.”
HetoldSewaneehisaunthadissues,generally,withmen,presentcompanyincluded.Heneverfelthecouldliveuptoherexpectations.Shewrotefantasymenandmeasuredrealonesagainstthem.Hewasn’tacademicallymotivated,hedidn’tcareabouthisappearance,heansweredherquestionswithmonosyllabicanswers,hewouldratherplayguitarthanspendtimewithher…inshort,hewasatypicalteenageboy.ButtoJune,hewasbecomingjustanotherpoorexcuseforaman.
HewentbacktoDublinforuniversity,butonlylastedayear.Hecamehome,acollegedropoutwhowantedtoplaymusic.Awholelotofnothinglookingforsomething.Onethinghewassureof:hewouldneverbecomeoneofthosemenJunelionized.
Thenightmanager,aloneinthehotelwithnothingtodo,broughtthemtwosmallglassesofgrappa,justbecause,andSewaneeandNickthankedhim.Astheysipped,Nicksaid,“Doyouthinkpeoplesometimesknowthey’redying,thewayelephantsdo?BecauseJunehadstartedworkingonthisprojectbasedonwhatshewishedhadhappenedbetweenherandtheguyshe’dlovedbeforeshewenttoIrelandandmetTom.Ofcourse,inherfictionalversion,Tomdiedahorribledeathandtheone-that-got-awaywasalegendarylover.”
Sewaneesmiled.“Ofcourse.”
Nicksmiledback.Butitquicklyfaded.“ShecalledlastOctoberandsaidwehadtotalk.Inperson.Iwent.Herpremonitionorintuitionorelephant-senseorwhateverwasspot-on.Sheattemptedtomakeeverythingrightbetweenus.Thestruggles,thepast,theconflicts…youknow,asonetendstodoatdeath’sdoor.Then,shelaidouttheCasanovaprojectshewaswritingandmademepromisetodoitandthatIwouldalsopromisetohaveyoudoit.Shewasadamant.Tothedegreethatitwasnottobedoneunlesswedidittogether.Shehadtohavethingsherwayrightupuntiltheend.Iactuallyadmiredthatabouther.”Hestaredoff.“Threeweekslaterthewritingwasdoneandsowasshe.”
Sewaneewinced.“Whenwasthis?”
“RightbeforeThanksgiving.”
“So,inLasVegas…”
Henodded.“Iwasverymuchinit.”Hegazedathisshoes.“I’mstillinit.”Heslunkdowninhisseat,stretchedhislegsout,crossedtheankles,restedtheteacuponhischest.Sighed.“AndwhenIplunkeddownnexttoyouinthebar,I’djustcomefromsittingatasigningtableforsixhours.Andbeingcompletelyhonest?Iwaslividatherthen.Lividshewaitedtoolongtogotoadoctor.Thatittookherdyingtotellmehowshefelt.Sheleftmewitheverythingwecouldhavehadifonly…itwasalot.”Hefellquiet.
Thenhefinishedthegrappaandstood.“YoulookasknackeredasIfeel.I’mgoingtogo.”
Sewaneestood,too,glancingattheclockabovethereceptiondeskandstartledtoseeitwas2:15.“I’malittleinsultedyoudidn’ttrytopulloffJustOneRoom.Youcouldhaverunouttheclockhereandthenbeenlike,‘oh,wow,lookatthetime,wherevershallIlaymywearyheadtonight?’”
“Iconsideredit.ButIthoughtitwasaweerepetitivesoIwentwithThePerfectGentlemanWhoKnowsHeShouldGiveaWomanSpace.”
“Ah,thatoldchestnut.”
Nickconsideredher.Thewayhelookedather:Wouldsheevertireofit?
“Doyouhaveplanstomorrow?”
Sheshookherhead.“MomandStuaren’tgoingtocomeintothecityuntildinner,soI’monmyown.Justwalkingaround,alone.ExploringVenice.Alone.”Shecouldn’thelpsmilingafterthelastone.
Nicksmiledback.“Well,sinceyou’llbealoneandall,howaboutImeetyouraloneselfatthetrainstation.Teno’clock?”
Sewaneeblinked.“Thetrainstation?Arewegoingsomewhere?”
“Dependsiftheyhavetrainsatthetrainstation.”
Theywerebothtiredenoughthatthismadethemlaugh.
“Where?”sheasked.
Hequirkedaneyebrow.“Trustme?”
Shedid.Godhelpher,shedid.Shedidn’tknowwhy,exactly,butifhewasevenafractionofthemanshe’dcorrespondedwith,afragmentofthemanshe’dspentagloriousnightinLasVegaswith,thenthesumofthosepartswasenough.Shenodded.Heflashedheragrin,pickeduphisknapsack,andleftherstandinginthelobby.ChapterFifteen
“GettingtoKnowYou”
ATABLEANDTWOTO-GOCUPSOFCOFFEEBETWEENTHEM,SEWANEEheardthedoorscloseandfeltthecabinlurchgentlybeneathheranditoccurredtohershewasonatrain,abouttorollovertheItaliancountryside,withNick,andhowthehellhadthathappened?She’dalwayswantedtotravelthroughItalyandnowshewas.Shewasbeginningtoglimpsehowdifficultshecouldmakethings.Howshetendedtoseeobstaclesinsteadofanswers.Whydidsheovercomplicateeverything?
Itwastooearly–bothinthehourandherownintrospection–tobeaskingherselfthis,soshegazedattheoutskirtsofindustrialVenezia,andsaid,“Forty-eighthoursago,IwasinL.A.”
“Andseventy-twohoursago,wewerefightinginthegardenofanassistedlivinghomeinBurbank.”
Sewaneeturnedtohim.“Andthreemonthsago,wewereinLasVegas.”
“Istilldreamaboutthatsteak.”
“Thesteak?”
“ItwasWagyu.”Hegrinned.“Andthatwine.”
“Thewine.”
“Thewine.”
Attheheatinhiseyes,shelosthercourage,lookedbackoutthewindow.“Wherearewegoing?”
“It’sasurprise.Don’tyoulikesurprises?”
“Sure.LongasIknowwhattheyare.”
“Where’sthefuninthat,eh?”
Sewaneeassessedhim,theveryfactofhim,sittingthereacrossfromher,onatraininItaly.Shefeltlikesheknewsomuchabouthim,butitseemedbackward,asifshehadwatchedafilmfromtheendtothebeginning.“Well,ifit’sgoingtobeawhile,entertainme.TellmethestoryofBrockMcNight.”
Nickdroppedhischintohischest.“Jaysus.Allright.”Hetookabreath.“AfterthebandbrokeupandJasongotoutoftreatment,wemovedbacktoPrescotttogetonourfeet.Westartedseeingoldfriendsandoneofthemmentionedthiskidweallknewinhighschool,thisdefensivelineman,Brad.Shesays,youwon’tbelievewhatBrad’sdoingnow.Andshepullsoutherphone,bringsupa…”Heloweredhisvoicetothepointwherehewasalmostmouthingthewords:“pornsite.AndBradhadawholechannel.Hisnamewasupandcoming69–Iknow–andhewould…”NickshiftedinhisseatandSewaneepeeredathim,alreadyfeelingherselfstarttoredden.“Hewanksintothecameraand–buongiorno!”Nickbleatedatthemanwho’dmaterializedtochecktheirticketsintheslotsbytheirheadrests.Heonlygruntedinreplyandmovedon.
Sewaneestifledalaugh.Nickleanedinandloweredhisvoiceonceagain.“Andhe’ddirty-talk.Inthiscavemanvoice.Andlook:I’mnoexpertandBradhavingahandshandyisdefinitelynotmy,er,kink?ButevenIcouldtellitwashot.”
Sewaneewasn’tsurehergrincouldbeanybigger,thatthelawsofphysicswouldallowit.
“So,mebeingme,Iranwithit.IstartedmessingwithJason,doingthevoicearoundthehouse.Like,he’dbeonthephonewithhismaandI’dgetrightupnexttohimandsay,‘youlikeseeingDaddyhard,doya?GivethattightlittleasstoDaddy.’”
Sewaneecoveredhermouth,buttoolatetosmotherthelaughthatblastedthroughthetrain.
NickhelicopteredahandandSewaneenoticedalittlepinktingeappearonhischeeks.“Yougetthepicture.Andthenoneday,IlostabettoJason,andthepenaltywasIhadtotalkintheBradvoicethewholeday.AndthenwheneverIlostabet–webetalotbecausewe’reovergrownchildren–he’dmakemeusethevoice.Gotalktothatgirl.Askfordirections.Ordertakeout.Anditstarted…working.Peoplerespondedtoit.AndthenJunewascastingoneofherbooks–thisisafteryoustoppeddoing’em–andIthought,well,Icoulddothat.Notoneofhers,obviously,thatwouldjustbe–”
“Right.”
“ButIsentoneofherfriendsasampleoftheBradvoice…”
“Andtherestishistory.”
“Yes.Andnowitneedstoreallybehistory.”
“So,youdowanttostop?Whatyousaidinthee-mailswasn’tbullshit?”
Nickheavedasigh.“Sewanee,I’llsayitagain.I’llsayitasmanytimesasyouwant,butnothinginthee-mails–orthetexts–wasbullshit.Thatwasme.Thatwasreal.Allofit.Everybit.”
Sewaneebelievedhim.Orcertainlywantedto.“Butyouhavesuchagoodthinggoing.Youcouldmaybepullbackalittletofocusontheband,butwhydoyouwanttostopcompletely?”
“Becauseit’sbeenfourhundredbooksandfivedrainingyearsandbecause…”Hechewedonhislip.“BecauseI’velosttrackofwhoIamwhenI’mnotpretendingtobestupidBrad.”
Beforetheyknewit,thetrainwaspullingtoastopinPaduaandNickpoppedupandshuttledSewaneeoutofthetrainand,asshesaid,“Padua?WhyPadua?”Nickledhertoabus.WithaneyebrowraisefromSewaneeandanansweringsmirkfromNick,theyclimbedaboard.
Aftersettlingintotwosmallseats,Nick’skneestuckeduphardagainsttheseatbackinfrontofthem,heturnedtoherandsaid,“So.L.A.Really?”
Shepointedafingerathim.“There’stheNewYorksnobbery!Iknewitwasonlyamatteroftime.”
“It’sjustso…”Hemovedhisheadaround,thenamby-pamby,ineffectualgesturemoreaccuratelydescriptivethananywordcouldbe.
“Hey,that’smyhometownyou’renottalkingabout.”
“Isit?”Nicklookedsurprised.“Ifiguredyouweretherebecauseofacting.”
Sewaneeshookherhead.“Bornandraised.IwenttocollegeinNewYork,though.”
“Where?”
“Julliard.”
Nickwhistled.Thenhelookedathislap.“Youeverthinkyou’dconsidergoingback?ToNewYork?”
Nottoolongagoshewouldhavesaidabsolutelynot.Theweather,alone.Theexpense.HerfamilyandfriendsinL.A.Butnow?“Anything’spossible,Iguess.Giveneverythingthat’schangedoverthepastfewyears,Idon’thavetobeinL.A.Otherthanformygrandmother.”Shepaused.Swallowed.Waited.Shefoundshecouldn’tusehervoicejustthen.
Herphonehadn’trungoncesinceshe’darrivedinItaly.Sewaneehadwondered:thatlastcallthey’dhad,whereBlahhadtalkedaboutwhatlosinghergriponrealitywaslike…hadsheralliedjustlongenoughtosaygoodbye?
Atherobviousvulnerability,Nickstayedsilent.Hesimplyreachedoverandtookherhandinherlap.
“That’swhyI’mdoingtheseriestobeginwith,youknow,”sheforcedout.“Topayforhercare.”
“AndhereIthoughtyou’djustwantedtomeetme.”SewaneechuckledgratefullyandNickasked,“Iamcurious,though,whatwouldyoudowiththemoneyifyoudidn’thaveyourgrantocarefor?”
Sewaneedidn’thaveaquickresponse.Shecouldn’thonestlysayshe’dneverthoughtaboutit.Ofcourseshehad.Butshehadnevergivenitvoice.“IsupposeI’dpayoffdebt.Schoolandmedical.I’mgoingtohavetostartthinkingaboutmoving,somaybeadownpaymentforaplacesomewheremoreaffordablethanHollywood?”Shemadeanidlegestureathereyepatch.“Maybegetanothersurgery.”
“Youneedanothersurgery?”
“No.”
“Thenwhywouldyoubegettinganother?”
Sheshifteduncomfortably.“I’mnotsayingIwould,I…Imean,it’snevergoingtolooknormal.Buttheycandoalotnow,so.”Shedidherbesttomakethatlastbitsoundoffhanded.
“Doesitmakeithardertodoyourjob?Withhowmuchyouhavetoread?”
Sheshookherhead.“Notanymore.Inthebeginning,itwasexhausting,gettingusedtoreadingwithoneeye.Doinganythingwithoneeye.Lefttomyowndevices,Icouldsleepfourteen,sixteenhourseasily.”
“IcandothateasilyandI’vegotbothofmine.”
Sewaneebumpedhisshoulderappreciatively.Herheadfounditswaythere,andhisarmcamearoundher,restingitselfeffortlesslyagainstherside.Hegaveheralightsqueezewhenhesaid,lowly,“I’mtrulysorrythathappenedtoyou.”Therewasasilence.Hetookabreath.“AndI’vebeenthinkingaboutwhatIsaidtoyoutheothernight,aboutwhyIcameuptoyouatthebar,andyourfriend,andthatwholepalaver,anditdidn’tcomeoutthewayI…Ididn’tgetachancetosayeverythingIwantedtosay.”
SewaneeliftedherheadandmetNickeyetoeye.“IfAdakuhadn’tbeensittingwithme,ifsheneverexisted.Ifallyousawinthatbarwasthiswoman”–Sewaneepointeddirectlyathereyepatch–“wouldyouhavecomeover–”
“Yes.Andthat’stheexacthypotheticalscenarioIwasgoingtogiveyou.Theanswerisyes,Iwouldhavecomeover.”
“Truth?”
“Yes,absolutely.But–”
“But.”
Nickforgedahead.“But!Ultimately,Idon’tthinkitmatterswhatIsay,doesit?Willyouevertrulybelieve,deepdown,thatanythingotherthanpitybroughtmeovertoyou?NothingIsaycanmakethatscardisappearforyou.IcantellyouIdon’tseeitandyouwillalwaysseeit.Icantellyouyou’reeverythingthatkeepsmeupatnightandeverythingIdaydreamaboutandhowthatmakesyoufeelmightlastadayoraweekoranhour.Feelingsaretemporary.Theystickaroundaslongasyoubelieveinthemandthenthey’regone,waitingtobebelievedinagain.Iftheywerepermanent,thenwe’donlyhavetosayIloveyouonceandbedonewithitfortherestofourlives.”
Sewaneestaredathim.“Didyoupracticethat?”
Nicksmiled.“Itwasalongflight.”Hesqueezedherhand.
ThebusbegantoslowandNickleanedoverhertolookoutthewindowandstood,pullinghishandaway.Sheglancedoutsideandsawatwo-lanecountryroadlinedwithcoastalpines.Thoughasfarasshecouldtelltheywerenowherenearthewater.Nickpulledherup.Theydisembarked.
Theairwascrisp,fresh,aslightnoteofcitrusblossom,buttherewerenocitrustrees.Therewasanopenfield.Awarehouseatthefarendofit.AhousepaintedaTuscanorange.Asquatredbrickapartmentbuilding.
Nickbeganwalking.Shefollowed.Shefelthimwatchingher.“What?”
“IthinkI’mabitinshockthatIcanjust…lookatyou.ThatIcanthinkaboutyouandthenjust…lookatyou.”
Sewaneesmiled.“Ifyou’drathertext,I’llunderstand.”
Nickhootedalaugh.“NotwhentherealityissomuchbetterthanwhateverI’dcookedupinmyhead.”
“Yeah,yeah.”
Heshrugged.“It’sthetruth.”
Shestoppedwalking.Shehadto.“Nick.IheardwhatyousaidonthebusandIunderstandit,Ido.”Hestoppedwalking,too,butthatmadeitfeelliketoomuchofadiscussion,soshestartedwalkingagain.“Butit’shardforme.Youmetthisme,buttherewasanothermeonce.AndfortherecordIfounditasdifficulttobelievemenandwhattheysawwhentheylookedatmethenasitistobelieveyouandwhatyouseewhenyoulookatmenow.”
“Isthatsupposedtohelpus?”
“Idon’tknow,”shesighed.“WhatI’msayingis,Iwanttomoveforward.Ijustdon’tthinkwecanrealisticallyforgethowthiswholethingstarted.”
“Buthowitstartedisnothowitended.”
“Butitdidend.”
Helaughed.“ThenforPete’ssake,whatarewedoinghere?”
Shestoppedagain.Hehadapoint.Butitstilldidn’tfeelsettled.Soshethrewoutherarms.“Whereishere,anyway?Wherethehellarewe?”
Nickonlysmiledandreachedforherhandandshelethimtakeit.AndtheywalkedlikethatdownasidewalksomewhereinItaly.
Whenthesilencegottoher,shelookedoverathimandfoundhewaswatchingheragain.“What?!”
Helookeddown.“Justthinkingthistime.”
Shesmiled.“About?”
“Honestly?”Helookedup.Thenbackather.Atherhairline.Athermouth.Athereye.Takingstock.“Rightnow?Inthismoment?AboutmovingtoL.A.andtakingyoudowntoCityHallandfiguringeverythingelseoutlater.”
“Nick,”shebreathed.
Heshookhishead,squeezedhiseyesclosed.“Sorry.YouknowIdon’thaveafilter.”Hetookabreath.“Ignoreme,I’mjet-lagged.”
ButwhatifIwantedthat,too?shethought.Itwasappealing,theprospectofit.Ofgivinguponfiguringanythingelseoutrightnow.Tohavesomeoneinsteadofherselftofocuson.Tojustbehappyforaslongaspossible.Toignorethefuture.
Sherealizedshe’dbeensilentfortoolongwhenNickasked,nervously,“Now,whatareyouthinking?”
Shelookedwistfullyupatatree.“Thatweshouldfinishtheseries.Here.”
Abeat.“What?”
Shesmiledathim.“We’retogether,thescriptsareready.JasonwantedtodoDuetNarrationforthesexscenes.Whynot?”
Nickdroppedherhandandskippedoutinfrontofher,turningaroundtowalkbackward.“RecordedonlocationinVenice,Italy!”
Sewaneechuckled.“Ready-madepromotion!”
“Ka-ching!”Energized,Nickwhippedhisphoneoutofhispocket.“LetmetextJason,seeifhecanfindastudioforlatertoday.”HequicklytypedwhileSewaneegazedabout.Eventually,Nickstoppedwalkingandshefiguredheneededtoconcentrateonhisphone,butwhenshelookedathim,hewaslookingupather,hishandwrappedaroundonepoleinalarge,openirongate.Asignproclaimed:
LUXARDO–MARASCHINO
Sewaneeblinkedatit.ThensheblinkedatNick.“Asin…thecherries?Theliqueur?”
Hesmiled.“FancyaLastWord?”ChapterSixteen
“TheConsummation”
BYTHETIMETHEYARRIVEDBACKINVENICE,JASONHADSECUREDAstudioande-mailedthescriptsthere.Theywouldlaydownoneepisodethatafternoonandtheotherthenextmorningandthentheserieswouldbedone.
TheyfoundthestudioonaquietbackstreetintheJewishGhetto,rangthebuzzer,andclimbedtothetopfloor,wheretheyweregreetedbyasmallmanwitharock’n’rollfaceandchin-lengthhair.HeintroducedhimselfasCosmoandgesturedthemintothespace.
Itwascomfy,builtmoreformusicthanvoiceover,withalargecontrolroomboastingafullsoundboardandcouches,andaliveroomwithorientalrugs,amps,adrumkit,andhalfadozenmicsspreadabout.InbrokenEnglish,Cosmoexplainedhe’dsetuptwomicsfacetoface,givenJason’sspecs,andstoodpanelsbehindthemtocagethesound.
Sewaneepeeledoffhercoatanddidsomevocalwarm-ups.Trills,buzzes,scales,lipflaps.ShenoticedNickwatchingher.“What?”
“Doyoualwaysdothose?”
“Notalways,butIhadalittlemilkinmycoffeethismorningandthenwehadtheliqueursamplerandtherewasalotofcheeseinthatpastaonthetrain…”They’dcarbo-loadedasifpreparingforamarathoninsteadofjusttryingtopreventstomachgrumbleswhilerecording.Atthebafflementonhisface,shesaid,“Youdon’t,Itakeit?”
“No.ButnowI’mthinkingIshould.”
“Yeah,maybeyou’dworkmore,”shedeadpanned,andNickchuckled.Shepushedherhairbackfromherface,bandeditintoahighpony.
Nickrolleduphissleeves.“Okay,so,IthinkI’mupfirst.Toremindourselves:it’safterthegondolaride–”
“Ahyes,theheavypetting–”
“AndAlessandroopenedupalittle,toldherabouthisuncle,theCasanovaline,theresponsibility–”
“AndthenClairesaidshewasready.Finally.Andtheywereheadingbacktohispalazzo.”
Nicknoddedonce,puthishandsonhiships.“Right.”
Sewaneemirroredhim.“Right.”
Theystaredateachother,therealityofwhattheywereabouttorecordinsertingitselfbetweenthem.Nowthattheywouldbereadingwiththeotherpersonpresent,watching,itwasawkward,andclearlynotonlyforher.
“So,”Nicksaid,“Alessandro’spointofview.”
“Alessandro’spointofview.”SheinclinedherheadatCosmo,waitingattheopenstudiodoor.“Inyougo.”
Nicklookedatherforonemorebeatthenwalkedintotheroom.
CosmostoodNickbehindoneofthemicrophones,beganadjustingtheheightofthemic,theangle,thedistancefromthemusicstandandNick’sdistance,inturn,fromthat.
Sewaneesettledinbehindthecontrolpanelononeend,leavingmostoftheareaclearforCosmo,who,he’dtoldthem,wouldbeengineeringthesession.Therewasatabletwaitingforherandtheepisode’stextwasalreadyqueuedup.Shescrolledthrough.
Cosmocamebackin,closingthedoubledoorstothestudiobehindhim.Sewaneelikedtheair-lockingsoundofclosingstudiodoors.Therewassomethingsafeaboutit.Asifshewerebeingsealedoff,protectedfromthepunishmentsoftheoutsideworld.Cosmosmiledsweetlyatherandshesmiledserenelybackthinking,youhavenoideawhatyou’reabouttohear,doyou?Hehurriedlysathimselfinfrontoftheboard,nudgedthemouse,broughthismonitorstolife,andwentfromatinyItalianmantoCaptainKirknavigatingtheStarshipEnterprise.Hecaughthereyeandpointedatalargeredbuttononthedesk.TheGodMic.Hepresseditandspoke.“Signore,youcanhear?”
“Ican,”Nickreplied,voiceboomingthroughtheentirestudio,shootingrightthroughSewanee’sribslikeanelectrifiedcowprod.Cosmocutheranapologeticglanceandmadeadjustments.Inamoment,henoddedtowardthesetofheadphonesnexttoherandsheputthemon.“Scusate,”hesaid,“oncemore.”
“Test,test.Thisisonlyatesttotestmyvoice.Thisisme,metestingthetestofme…”
ThenonsensicalramblewasspokenasBrock,andCosmojerkedhisheadupasifexpectingtoseesomeoneelsehadsnuckinfrontofthemicrophone.Sewaneestifledalaugh,goingbacktohertablet,scrollingthetext,plotting,charting,quick-gamingherperformancethewayanarchitectmightscanblueprints
Eventually,Cosmosaid,“Bene,isgood.”
SewaneepressedthebuttontotalktoNick.“Solet’sgetyourflashbacksectiondoneandthenI’llcomeinfortheirdialogue.”
ShewatchedNicknodthroughtheglass,nevertakinghiseyesfromthetext.“Yes,ma’am.”
Cosmohithiskeyboard,andsaid,“Rolling,”trillingtheRdelightfully.
Nicklaunchedin.
Sewaneereadalongwhileshelistenedtohimsetthescene:ClaireandAlessandrowalkbacktothepalazzo,tensionbuzzingawaybetweenthem;hepoursheraglassofwine,whichsherefusesatfirst,thengulpsdown;hefindshimselfnervous,whichneverhappens,thisishisjob,wherehashisprofessionalismgone,whywasthiswomanaffectinghimunlikeanyother?Thenhebegantheflashback:what,exactly,hadhappenedthathadblownthemapartfiveyearsago.
SheliftedherheadfromthetabletandwatchedNickthroughtheglass.
Hestoodstraight,shouldersstiff,onehandononesideoftheheadphones,asifheweregettingreadytosinginsteadoftalk.Whichmadesense,shesupposed.Heplayednicelyintothemic,straighton,nevermovinghisheadlestthemovementchangethesound.HisBrockvoicewashypnotic.Thathushedwhisper,fogtrawlingoverarockyriverbed,whiskeytumblingoverice,velvet-drapedsteel…howeveritwashisfansdescribedhisvoice.
Butthatwasn’twhatheldherattention.Shewaswatchinghiseyesastheymovedoverthetabletinfrontofhim.
Nothing.
Vacant.
Itwasthesimpleactoftakingininformationandsendingitbackout.
HecouldgetawaywithitbecauseThatVoice,butshecouldn’thelpthinkinghowmuchbetteritwouldbeifthereweremore…Nickinit.Howthesuperficialwouldbecomesubstantial.
Twentyminuteslater,hesteppedbackfromthemic.“Youwanttocomeinnow?”
Sewaneehelddownthebutton.“Sure.”Cosmojumpeduptoopenthesoundproofeddoors.Shegrabbedhertabletandwalkedintotheroom,stoppingatthemusicstandacrossfromNick’s.WhileCosmoflittedaroundher,shestayedinthetext.Thenheleftthem,closingthedoubledoorsagain.
ShereadaparagraphwhileCosmomadehisadjustmentsattheboardandthensaid,intoherheadphones,“Isgood.”
“Great,thanks,”Sewaneemurmured.
“Si.Rolling.”HetrilledtheRagainandshesmiled.
Sheglancedup,hopingtocatchNick’seyebeforehebegan,hopingforamomentofconnection.Buthestartedreading.
“Aren’tyougoingtosaysomething?”
Sewaneereadherline.“Ithinkwe’vedoneenoughtalking.”
Nickcontinued,“Thetightnessinhervoicestoppedme.Iwentdowntomykneesinfrontofher.Ipluckedherfingersup,whichhadbeennervouslytoyingwiththebedspread,andheldthem.‘Thisissafe.Thisisus.’Iclenchedmyjaw.‘Thisismyjob,’Isaid,thoughIwasn’tsurewhoIwasreminding,herormyself.‘Whenyoufilledoutthepreferencesheet,youhadtothinkaboutwhatyouwanted.Now,Iwantyoutovoiceyourwants.’SheswallowedandIwatchedtheivorycolumnofherthroatbob.Ihadanirrationaldesiretobiteit.Iranafingerlightlyoverherhand.”
Sewaneesaid,“‘Iwantyoutotouchme,’shefinallysaid.”
Nick,inhisownvoice,said,“Hangon,Ineedtosaythedialoguetags.”
“Right,sorry,”Sewaneesaid.“Gottagetusedtothis.Cosmo,canwepunchinrightbeforemyline,‘Iwantyoutotouchme’?”
“Si,rolling.”
Theyheard“Iranafingerlightlyoverherhand,”intheirheadphonesandthenSewaneesaid,“Iwantyoutotouchme…”
AndthenNicksaid,“Shefinallysaid.‘Where?’Iasked,”andtheywerebackontrack.
“Whereveryouwant.”
“Itskedather.”Nickpausedagain.“ShouldItsk?”
Sewaneeconsideredthis,gladhewasengagingher.“Haveyoueverdoneitandmadeitsoundgood?”
“No!Never!Itpopsonmic.”
“Yeah!Orsoundslikestatic.”
“Right?Soweird.I’llkeepitthewayitis.”Audionerdmomentover,NicksignaledCosmoandaskedhimtocomeinafter“Itskedather.”
“Si,rolling.”
Nickpickeduphiscue:“‘Wherewouldyoulikemetostart?’Iasked.‘Here?’Itappedherkneewiththehandthatwasn’talreadyengagedwithherfingers.Sheshookherhead.”
“Maybehigher.”
“Iremovedmyhandfromherkneeandplaceditonhercheek.Islidmyfingersunderherchinandgentlyraisedherhead,sowelookedeachotherintheeye.‘Highenough?’Isaidwithawhisperofasmile.”
Sewaneemurmuredbackwiththefaintestsensualgiggle,“Maybelower,”
“Shemurmuredwithasensualgiggle.Ifreedherchinandranthebacksofmyfingersdownthatthroat,lettheknucklespassdownoverhercollarbone.Lower.Herbreathhitched.Iflippedmyhandoverandgentlysqueezedherbreath.Soperfect,so–”
“Ooh,kinky.”
“Huh?”
“Squeezingherbreath.”
“What?”
“WhoknewJuneFrenchwasintoeroticasphyxiation?”
“Whatintheworldareyou–”
Sewaneefinallyletoutherlaugh.“Breath!Yousaidbreath!”
“Isaidbreast,Sewanee,breast.”
“Yousaidbreath,Nick,breath.”
“Ididnot!Isaid–”
Cosmopunchedin.“Scusa,butyousaybreath.Nobreast.InItaly,weknowthedifference.”Hislaughwascutshortwhenhereleasedthebutton.
Nickthrewuphishands.“Well,maybeweshouldchangeit!Ineverlikedthewordbreastanyway.Idon’tevenlikesayingbreast.Itmakesmethinkofchickens.”
SewaneeguffawedandNickchuckled.Hetriedtotakeasipofwater,buttheyweren’tdonelaughingyetandhealmostspatitout,whichmadeSewaneelaughharderandshefeltliketheywerebackintheVenetiancasinopushingeachotherintothechairsinfrontoftheslotmachines.
CosmocameovertheGodMic.“IthinkmaybeIrecordthis,eehh?”
“No,no,sorry,Cosmo,”shesaid.“We’llgetittogether.”ShecaughtNick’sdampeyesandtheysmiledateachother.
Heclearedhisthroat.Sniffed.Clearedagain.“Okay,Cosmo.I’mready.”
“Rrrrrolling.”
“Iflippedmyhandoverandgentlysqueezedherbreast.”Sewaneesawhisjawtick,theonlytellthathe’dalmostlostit.Buthecarriedvaliantlyon.“Soperfect.Perfectionmatchedonlybythesoftmoanthatescapedher.‘There?’Iasked.”
“Iwant,”
“Shepanted,”
“Iwant…youtoundressme.Justmyblouse.Andbra.Iwantmyskirtonwhenyoutakemethefirsttime.”
“Myerectionwasimmediate.”
Sewanee’slaughwassoloudandsodirectlyon-micthatNickjumpedbackasifitwereaphysicalthinghecoulddodge,abeeorashoeorafist.Hewasstillwhippingtheheadphonesoffhisheadwhenshebleated,“Sorry!”andcoveredhermouth.
Nickglaredplayfullyather.“Whatareyou,twelve?It’sjustaword!Erection!”
Shedroppedtothefloorinhysterics.
“Oh,comeon,”Nickgroaned.
“Signore,”Cosmointerjected.
“I’msorry,Cosmo,I’mgonnaneedaminute.I’mdealingwithatoddlerhere.She–”
“Si,butthelastthingyousay,erection?Ehscusate,butIthinkIreadsomethingdifferent.”
BeforeNickcouldrespond,Sewaneeweaklyreachedahandstraightupandtappedthetabletonhermusicstand.
Nicklookeddownathis.“Ah.‘Reaction.’”
Sewaneefellbackintoapileoflaughter.
Withallthematuredignityofatuxedoedman-of-distinctionfixinghisbowtiebeforeanightattheopera,Nicksettledtheheadphonesbackonhisears.Hestareddownatthelaugh-puddleinmockingreprimand,theimperiousdukeofathousandRomancenovels.“Wouldyoucaretotakeabreak,Ms.Chester?”
“No,”Sewaneewheezed.
“Yousure?”
“Yes.”
“Youdon’tsoundsure.”
“Justgivemea…”Shestoodupunsteadily,anewbornfoalinanunevenpileofhay.Shereachedovertothetablebetweenthemandcrackedafreshwaterbottle.Drank.Breathed.Blewhernose.Hadmoretodrink.Pulledsomelipbalmoutofherpocket,appliedit.Clearedherthroat.Inhaled.Exhaled.
Shedidn’tdarelookatNickduringherrecovery.Onlywhenshewassureshewasreadydidsheglanceoverathim.Hewasstaringather,amienofpleasureandpuzzlementonhisface.Shesimplynoddedandsaid,calmly,“I’mgood.”
“Good.”Grinning,Nickcenteredhimselfbackatthemic.HepointedtoCosmo,andtheyheard“rrrrrolling,”andthenthepre-roll,andthenNicksaid,“Myreactionwasimmediate.”AndSewaneepressedherlipstogethersotightly,theyretreatedintohermouth.“IcouldenvisionitallandIwantedit.Iachedforit.Andshe’dsaid,‘whenyoutakemethefirsttime.’Implying…well.MyfingerswenttothebuttonsonherblouseasIsaid,‘There’snothingmoreattractivethanawomanwhoknowswhatshewants.’”
ThiswasthesortofsectionwhereBrockMcNightshone,allbyhislonesome,settingthescene.Theundressing,theworship,theinteriorityofahero’sdesire.Sewaneekeptherinterjecteddialogueasunobtrusiveaspossible(“yes,”“there,”“justlikethat”)withinhisruminationsabouttheperfectionofherbody,herresponse,howwildshewasdrivinghim.
Heperformedwell.AsAlessandroperformedwell,shesupposed.Itworkedforhimhere,inthesesections.Butwhenthecharacterrequiredconnection,struggle,relationship,that’swhenshesawhislimitations.Whenshegotpastthatsmokescreenofavoice,therewasnothingbehindit.Likethebuildingsonamovieset:abeautifulfacade,butinreality,nothingbut2x4sproppingitup.Washeholdingsomethingbackonpurpose?
Whenhissectionwasover,rightatthemomentAlessandroenteredClaire,andSewaneewasabouttotakeoverthenarration,Nickdranksomewaterandflickedafingeratthetablet.
“Why’dshechangepointofviewhere?Itwasjustgettinggood.”
Sewaneesawanopportunityanddecidedtotakeit,hopingitmightconnecthimmoretothetext.“BecauseJuneknewhowtotakeformulaandelevateit.”
“Inwhatway?”
“Sheknewthepointofviewshouldbelongtotheperson–thecharacter–whohasthemosttolose.Theforeplayisfromhisperspectivebecausehewantsthissobadlyandshemaynotgiveittohimand,worse,shemaynotcomeapartinhishands,mayprovehimafraud.Butonceheentersher,onceheisinsideher,he’swon.Therestisfromherperspectivebecausethisishermomentoftransformation.Fromthispointon,shewillneverbethesame.”
Nickstaredather.“Oh.”
Sewaneewentbacktohertablet.Tookabreath.Andbegan.“Iwassofull.I’dbeensoempty,forsolong,evenbeforemyhusbanddied,andnow?”
Sheread,assheoftendid,withoutamistake,enteringthenearfuguestatethathappenedwhenshewasfullyinvested.Thisscene–thesescenes–wereentirebooksinminiature:risingaction,climax,denouement.Assuch,shelethervoicerise,crescendo,fall.
Slowly,shebroughtithome,theaftermath:
“Hebracedhimselfonhiselbowsoverme,soasnottocrushme.Hekissedthesideofmyneck,gavemeonelast,longstroke,andpulledout.Hestoodandwalked,likeDavidcometolife,intothebathroom.Shutthedoor.Ifloatednicelyforafewminutes,waitingforhimtocomeback.Whenhedid,whenIheardthebathroomdooropen,Iexpectedhimtocrawlbackintobedwithme.Hedidn’t.HisfootstepsstoppedandIopenedmyeyes.Hewasfullydressed.Collectingourwineglasses.Movingtothebar.Turningonthefaucet.Icameuponanelbow.”
Nickmurmured,“It’slaterthanIthought.Ihaveameeting.”
“Ilookedattheornaterocococlockabovethemantel.‘It’sten,’Isaid.”
“Timegotawayfromme.”
“Youhaveameetingatteno’clockatnight?”
“It’stheonlytimeshehad.”
“She?Isaiditaloud:‘She?’Hedriedtheglassesnow.”
“Prospectiveclient.”
“Youhaveaclientrighthere.”
“Clientspay.”
“Myangerflared.‘Fine.Howmuchtonotbeanasshole?’Hesetthewineglassesdownandwalkedovertothebed.Stoodaboveit.Stoodaboveme.”
“Trustme,thisiswhatyouneedrightnow:distance.I’llbebackbymidnight.You’rewelcometostayuntilthen.”
“Withthat,heturnedheel,pickeduphisjacket,walkedtothedoor.Andleft.Heleft.Left.Icouldn’tstayhereamomentlonger.Shaking,Iclamberedoutofthebed,gotdressed,triedtogathermywitssoIdidn’tleaveanything–dearGod,pleasedon’tletmeleaveanything–hastilyranmyfingersthroughmyhair,fumbledwiththestrapsofmyshoes,andstaggeredtothedoor.Iturnedbackoncemore,lookingatthebed.Thesiteofmyhumiliation.IknewwhatIhadtodo.Iopenedmypurseandpulledoutmywallet.Sevenhundredfiftyeuro.Afractionofhisvalue,aninsultingamount.Andyet:allIhadtomyname.Iwalkedbacktothebedandleftitthere,rightinthemiddle,inthedivotmyshouldershadcreated,stillwarm.Hewouldneverbeabletosayhedidmeafavor.Thiswasatransaction.Servicespaid,servicesrendered.Qualityproduct,timelydelivery.Fivestars.Chokingbacksobs,Ileftthepalazzo,leavingthedoorunlockedbehindme.”
Sewaneestaredatthetabletinfrontofher,theabsenceofmoretext,ofmorestory.Thewhitespace.Shewasstillreverberating,stillcomingbackintoherself.Shewassoovertakenbywhereshe’dgone,sheneededtimetocomebacktowhereshewas.Itwasn’tlikesex,butitwasn’tunlikeit,either.
Nickhuffedalaugh.“He’ssuchadick.Oh,sorry,cutit,Cosmo.”
“Si,wecut.”SheheardthesoundofCosmoslappingthetable.“Belissima.Thislastthing,youmakemecry.Wecontinue,yes?”
“No,thenextepisodeisthelastepisodesowe’regonnadoittomorrow.”
“ButhowdoIsleep,eh?”
Nickchuckledandtookoffhisheadphones.“IfwehookedCosmo,wecanhookanybody.I’msogladyousuggestedthis.Howgrandwasthat,eh?”
SewaneehadnodesiretoburstNick’sbubble,soshereplied,inanexaggeratedleprechaunvoice,“Grandittwas!”
Hemovedforthedoor.“Let’sgogetacoffee.Getabreastoffreshair.”
THEYSTOODATanespressobar,waitingfortheirshots,whileNickprattledonabouthowgoodthereadhadbeen.“I’llsayitagain,yousuggestingwerecordtogether,here?Brilliant.”
Sewaneesmiledtightly.“Thanks.”Shetookherlittlecupfromthewomanbehindthecounterandblewonit.Somethinghadoccurredtoheronthewalkover,apossibleexplanationforhisdisconnectionfromthematerial.“So,consideringyouneverwantedtodooneofyouraunt’sbooks,wasitawkwardforyoutoreadthesexscene?”
“Surprisingly,no.”Nickthrewbackhisshot,tossedthepapercupaway.“MaybeI’mjustinuredtoRomanceatthispoint.Like,ifyoukillpeopleforalivingdoesitmatterwhogivestheorders?”
Sewaneechuckled,addedasmallspoonfulofrawsugartohercup,andstirredslowly.Shewantedtotakethisfurther,butalsowantedtotreadcarefully.Thenagain,theydidn’tneedtotalkaboutit.Itwasjustajob.Ajobhedidn’twanttodoanymore,anyway.Whowasshetotellhimhowtodosomethinghe’dhadenormoussuccessdoing?
Shenoticedtheywerebeingcrowdedoutofthesmallshop,soshedownedherespressoandtheywanderedouttothepiazza,takingaseatonsomegranitestepsatthefeetofabronzegryphon.
Athersilence,hebumpedherkneewithhis.“Euroforyourthoughts?”
“Oh,it’snothing.”
Hestudiedher.“You’renotfeelinginsecureaboutyourwork,areyou?BecauseifIhaven’tsaiditenough,I’msorry.You’reremarkable,youreallyare.”
Shecouldbarelycontainhersurprise.“Oh!No,God,no.That’sso…thoughtfulofyou.No,I’mjusttryingtofiguresomethingout.”
Hereachedover,tuckedawind-blownribbonofhairbehindherear.“What?”
“Iwasjustwondering…”Abort,abort,abort.“Youknowwhat,nevermind.”
“Sewanee,comeon.Wecanbehonestwitheachother.Whateveritis,we’lldealwithit.Talktome.”
Shelookedintothewelcomematofhisgaze,dustedoffjustforher.“Okay.Iwasn’t…Icouldn’ttellifyouwereinvestedinwhatwedidtoday.”
“Me?”Nick’sgrinhunginplace.“Investedhow?”
Sewaneeshrugged.“Inyourperformance.”
Thegrinflickeredlikeneonabouttogoout.“Imean.That’showIdoit.”
“Right,andit’sgreat,”sheassuredhim,touchinghisthigh.“AllI’msayingis…whenyou’reBrock?Youseemdetached.”
Nickpulledhiskneeoutfromunderherhand.Hebusiedhimselfwithremovinghisjacket.“Detached?”
“Yeah.Imean,didyoufeelconnectedtomeatall?Aswereadtogether?”Heseemedconfusedbythequestion,soshetriedanotherwayin.“WhydidyouwanttodoDuet?”
Hepulledapackofcigarettesoutofthejacketnowslungontothesteps.“JasonsuggestedwedothelasttwoepisodesasDuetNarrationbecauselistenerslikeDuet.Theythinkit’shotter.”
“Butit’sonlyhotterwhenthetwopeopleactuallyworkoffofeachother.Whatwasthepointofreadingittogetherifitsoundsasifwedidn’t?”
Nickscoffed.“Whatareyou,adirectornow?Ithoughtitwouldbecooltoreadittogether,that’sall.Whyareyoumakingthissuchabigdeal?”
“Whyareyoubeingasmart-ass?”
“Whyarewefighting–arewefighting?”Thegrinwasback,butitwasforcedandhelookedbewildered.Helithiscigarette.
“We’renotfighting,okay?”Shetouchedhisthighagain.“Youdon’tneedtogetdefensive–”
“I’mnotgettingdefensive,”hesaid,onceagaindodgingherhand,thistimestanding.“Ijustdon’tknowwhatyouthinkIshouldhavedonedifferently.”Hesoundedexasperatedasheblewouthisfirstpuff.
“Investmoreofyourself.”
Nowhespokeslowly,asifexplainingsomethingtoachildfortheumpteenthtime.“Idon’twanttoinvestmore.Iwantout.”
Herhackleswentupathistone.“AndIthinkifyouinvestedmoreofyourselfyoumightnotwantout.Ithink–”
“Moreofwhatself?”
“Nick!”
Hethrewbackhishead,answeringhisname.“What?!”
“No.”Sewaneehuffedoutafrustratedlaugh.“Nick!Yourself.Yourrealself.”Shepaused.“You’veputafirewallbetweenNickandBrock.Why?Together,they’resomethingspecial.”
Heshookhishead.“It’seither/or.Youcan’thavebothtogether.Theyarefundamentallyincompatible.”
Sheshookherhead.“You’rewrong.”
Hethrewoutthehandholdingthecigarette.“Areyoudisagreeingjusttodisagree?I’mprettysureIknowmoreaboutmethanyoudo.”
“WhenyoureadGoodnightMoon.ItwasBrock’svoice,butNick’sheart.”
Thisstoppedhim.Hestaredather.Thenhelookeddown,tookalongdrag.“Swan,”heexhaled.“Thisain’tGoodnightMoon.”
“No,itisn’t.Butyouare.”
Hekeptlookingdown.Hadshegottenthroughtohim?
Butthenhemuttered,“Right.YouwishIweresomethingI’mnot.AndIthinknotjustinmyread,butinlife.”
Sewaneesnappedherheadback.“Areyou–whatuniverseareyoucurrentlytransmittingfrom?”
“Yours,lovie.”
“Don’tputwordsinmymouth,that’snotwhatI–”
“Trustme,thatisexactlywhatthisis.”Henoddedrapidly,havingconvincedhimself,ifnother.“Youwantboth.Youwantmetobe,tobe…uh…BrockMcNick!That’swhatyouwant!”Hevictoriouslykickedawaysomeoneelse’scigarettebutt.
“That’swhoyoualreadyare,you,you…youfart-head!”
Nickhadtolaugh.“Fart-head?”
Sewaneehadtojoinhim.“It’sthebestIcouldcomeupwith,BrockMcNick!”
“Well,that’sthebestIcouldcomeupwith!”
Theybothtookameasuredbreath.NickflickedashfromhiscigaretteandSewaneeattemptedagentlertone.“AllI’mtryingtosayis,whenyou’reworking,you’reBrock.Andwhenyou’renot,you’reNick.AndIdon’tunderstandwhyonehastogetsacrificedfortheother.It’sallyou,Nick.”
Hetookanotherdrag.Hewasthepictureofcomposure.Almostperformativelyunruffled.“Yeahhhh,”heexhaled.“Igetitnow.”
“Good.”
“Thisisaboutyou,notme.”
Hereyebrowssnappedtogether.“What?Whatareyou–thishasnothingtodowithme.”
“Ithaseverythingtodowithyou.You’reprojecting.”
“Projecting?!”
Heattemptedacasualshrug.“Yousaidityourself.You’retryingtoreconcilewhoyouoncewereandwhoyouarenow.”
Hermouthfellopen.“Youaresooff-basehere.ThisconversationstartedbecauseIwastalkingaboutthework!”
“AndI’mcallingbullshit.Idon’tthinkitisaboutthework.Ithinkwe’retalkingaboutsomethingmuchbiggerthantheworkand–newsflash–Idon’tgiveanever-lovingfeckabouttheworkanyway.”Hecamecloser,pointedthecigaretteather.“That’syou!That’syoutheactor!That’snotme.”
Sheslicedherhandthroughthesmokeandhervoicesharpened.“Canyounotwavethatinmyface?Idogiveanever-lovingfeckabouttheworksoIdon’tlikesecondhandsmoke,okay?”
Hesteppedinstantlyback.“Sorry.”Hemutteredacurse,threwthecigarettedown,andstampeditout.Hesaid,mostlytohimself,“I’mquittingagainsoon.”
Sewaneegesturedatthebutt.“Youdropsomething?”
“Huh?”
Sherolledhereyeandstoodandpickeditup.“Iwillneverunderstandwhypeopledon’tthinkthisislittering.”
Heheldoutahand.“Giveithere.”
“No.”Butnowshewaswalkingaroundtryingtofigureoutwhattodowithit.
Hemadeagrabbymotion.“Seriously.”
“I’lltakecareofit.”Sewaneesearchedforatrashcan.
Nicktookouthishardpackofcigarettes,flippeditopen.Shookit.“I’lltakecareofit.”
“Ijustneedtofinda–”
“There’snotaoneinsight.Justgiveithere.”
Shelookedaround.Hewasright.
Shestompedoveranddroppeditin,asifdepositingabagofdogcraponhisdoorstep.
Theyretreatedfromeachother,tooppositesidesofthestairs.Heleanedagainstonestonebanister,shedidthesameontheopposingone.
Amomentofreprieve.
SewaneewatchedNickfromthecornerofhereye,waitingtoseeifhehadmoretosay.Becauseshedid.Shehadsomethingelseshedesperatelywantedtosay,butthelasttimeshedecidedtosaywhatwasonhermind–alloffiveminutesago–ithadendedlikethis.Shedidn’twanttohurthimfurther.Shedidn’twanttohurtthem.Butshe’dcometorealizesomethingfromthistiffthatfeltmorerelevantthanhowitbegan.Morerelevantthanthem,even.
Shesaid,inthemostcaring,nonconfrontationalvoiceshecouldmuster,“HaveyouthoughtaboutwhyJuneinsistedyoudothisproject?”
Hesighed,battle-weary.“Whatareyouonaboutnow?”
“Idon’tthinkshewasjustgivingyouawaytomakesomemoney.Isitpossibleshewasgivingyouaroadmap?”
Nowhelookedather.
“Yousaidthisserieswasarevisionisttakeonherownstory.Andmaybethat’strue,Ididn’tknowherthatwell.Butshewroteitforyou.Didyoueveraskyourselfwhy?Whyshemightwriteaboutasexgodwhosacrificeshimselfforhisprofessionandultimatelyfindsawaytointegratetheperformerwiththeperson?”
Hetookoutthecigarettepackagain.Openedit.Glancedathiswatch.Closeditandputitback.“Right.”Hemovedoffthestonebanister,andSewanee’simpulsewastomove,too,toreachforhim.Shestraightenedexpectantly,buthedidn’tgotoher.Hewenttohisjacketonthestepsbetweenthemandsaid,whileputtingiton,“Imightsaythesametoyou.Shedidinsistthatyouplaytheheroine,afterall.Thewomanwhoneedstogetoverherpastandgetonwithherlife.”
Heturnedandstarteddownthesteps
“Don’tjustwalkaway,Nick.”Shewasmortifiedtoheartheneedinhervoice.
Nickrolledhiseyesandcamebacktowardher.“I’mnotwalkingaway,fart-head.”Then,gently,“We’rewalkingaway.”Helookedatherandshesawthatthoughhe’dbeenwornthin,therewasatendernessthere.Someresidualhurtandlingeringfrustration,butmostlytenderness.Hewasabruisestillsensitivetotouch,buthealing.Whichrelievedher.
Andinherrelief,shereheardwhathehadjustsaidabouther.AboutJune.
Thisfighthadbegunbecauseshe’dpointedoutaseparationinhim,andheretaliatedbypointingoutasimilardivideinher.Butthedefensiveheatwentoutoftheargumentwhentheyhad–asHenrymighthavesaid–broughtintextualevidencetosupporttheirclaims.ByhighlightingwhatJunehaddone,theywerenowlookingatthemselvesinsteadofeachother.
ShewasstillmullingthisoverwhenNicksaid,“WehavedinnerwithyourmumandStu,remember?”
She’dforgotten.Shewenttowardhimonthestairs,pulledoutherphone,andlookedatthetime.“Westillhaveforty-fiveminutes.”
Heshookhishead.“It’sbestwegetgoing.”Sotheywalkedsidebysideacrossthepiazzaashemurmured,“Weshouldcleanup.Andchange.”ChapterSeventeen
“TheProposal”
THEYDOCKEDATTHEISLANDFIFTEENMINUTESAFTERLEAVINGST.Mark’s,disembarked,andwalkedtowardanoutbuildingtotherightofthesprawlinghotel.Stuledtheirsmallgrouplikeapuppythatmayhavebeentrainedtoheel,butwasincapableofobeyingwhenexcited.“IpromisedMarilynIwouldn’tspoilthisbytellingyouanythingaboutit.But,comeon,canyoubelievethisisaMarriott?Okay,I’mshuttingupnow,herecomesthehostess.”
AsifconjuredbyStu,anelegantwomanappearedinthewarmglowofthepathway’slights.ShecalledthemforwardandSewaneeletMarilynandStutakethelead,hangingbackwithNick.
Theyhadwordlesslygonetotheirseparatehotelstogetreadyandbythetimethey’deacharrivedatthepier,StuandMarilynwerewaiting.They’dallclimbedaboardtheboatandStuhadsequesteredNickatthebowtotalkaboutdolphins,soshehadn’tbeenabletocheckinwithhim.
“Areyouokay?”shewhispered.
Henodded,butsaid,“Iwishwe’dhadafewmomentsatthedockbefore–”
“Metoo.Butcanweputeverythingasidefortonightand–”
“Ofcourse.”Hegaveherasmallgrin.“Wecanfightlater.”Sewaneematchedhisgrinandfelthershouldersloosen.
Stuteasinglyyelled,“Youtwocomingordowehavetogetyouaroom?”
“IonlystayatHiltons,”Nickyelledbackandtheypickeduptheirpace,joiningalaughingStuattheopendoorofaterra-cottabrickstructurethatmighthaveoncebeenabarn.Ithadfloor-to-ceilingwindowsbandedwithblackironeverysixfeetorso.Onceinside,thesoftilluminationofcandlelightandchandeliersofftotherightbeckonedthemintothediningroom.
Butthehostessinsteadusheredthemtotheleft,bringingthemintoalushlyunderstatedbar.“Ooh,acocktail,yesplease,”Sewaneemurmured.
“Oh,Swanners,”Stuenthused,“you’reaboutto–”
“Stuuuu,”Marilynwarned.
Hezippedhislips,butturnedtoNickandside-mouthed,“Justyouwait.”Thehostessofferedthematraywithfourreddish-browngolfball–sizedorbsonit,eachsittinginitsowndelicatecup.Sheinstructedthemtoputtheentireballintotheirmouthsandbepreparedforasurprise.Theyclinkedthecupstogetheranddidastold.Sewaneefeltthehardsheabutterexteriorinstantlycollapseandagushofsweet,tart,perfectlybalancedliqueurbursttolife,coatinghertongue.Shewasstupefied.Thesplashofflavorhadclearedhermindandawakenedallhersensesatonce,likejumpingintoacoldlake.
“What’dItellyou,huh?Well,Ididn’ttellyou,butwhenhaveyoueverhadthathappeninyourmouth?”Stuheldupahand.“Don’tanswerthat.”NickandSewaneelaughedasMarilynslappedhisarm.
Thehostessledthemthroughthebar,outadoor,andintothegardenbehindtherestaurant.Astheystrolledthemeanderingpath,shepointedtospecificproducetheywouldbeconsumingthatnight.Everysooften,therewasatreestumpandonitwasalittletasteofsomething.Amushroompuffpastry.Acaramelizedturnipinasingleleafofarugula.Anaperitifglasscontainingananiseliqueurwithacherryatthebottom.
Bythetimethehostesstookthemintotherestaurantandrelievedthemoftheircoats,Sewanee’ssenseswerestrungtighterthanabowstring.Therewasthefaintsmellofwoodsmokeandgarlic,butalsoanundernoteofsomethingfloral.Everythingwasintentional.
Theywerehandedofftosomeoneelseandswepttoatablebythewindows.Thetabletopwasglass.Theceiling,thirtyfeetabove,wasmirrored.Thewindowsofferedaviewofthegardenthey’djusttoured.Beyondthesparselandscapinglights,theVenetiannightwasablackvoid.
StudirectedSewaneeandNicktositonthesidethatallowedthemaviewoftheentirerestaurant,theentireshow.MarilynandStusatacrossfromthemandStucouldnotstopsmiling,thoughitdidvary;fromgentletoimpishtofull-onclown.
Threemorepeopleappeared,onebringingaglassbottleofwater,awaiterwhoconfirmedtheyweredoingthetastingmenu,andasommelierwhoconfirmedtheyweredoingpairingswiththetastingmenu.Studidn’tletanyoneanswerbeforesaying,“Absolute-mente!”
“Fantastico.”Thesommeliersmiledpolitely.Hepulledabottlefrombehindhisbackandsaiditwasoffthemenu,buthehaditopenandwantedthemtotryit.Hepouredasplashintoeachoftheirglassesanddeparted.Theyraisedthem,clinked,andtookasip.
“Whatdoyouthink?”Stusolicited,beforethey’dsetdowntheirglasses
“Yummy,”Marilynenthused.
“Wow,”SewaneeandNicksaidandthen,underhisbreath,Nickmurmured,“It’stight,itneedstoopen,”andSewanee’scheekshadneverheatedfasterandStusaid,“Sorry,what?”andNickanswered,“Justright,doesn’tneedtoopen.”
“Oh!Doyouenjoywine,Nick?”
“I’vebeenknowntodiddle.Sorry,dabble.Diddle’stheIrish.”
Sewaneebitherlip.
Stusnappedhisfingers.“IthoughtthataccentwasIrish!”WhichpromptedSewaneetoplayfullyexplainhowitwasmuchmorepronouncedwhenhehitonwomeninbarsandnotrueDublinerhadthataccentanyway.WhichpromptedNicktooh-so-innocentlyaskSewaneewhichpartofTexasshewasfromagain,and–shortofkickingeachotherunderthetable–theymovedon.
Nickquicklyliftedhisglass.“Can’tthankyouenoughforlettingmejoinintonight.”
“I’mgladyou’rehere,Nick!Andsohappyyou’rehere,Swanners!Whatanight.Specialnight.”
Stu’sspiritedembracehadSewaneerelaxingfurtherandshecouldfeelthesamethinghappeningtoNick.Anuncomplicated,pleasure-seekingfatherfigureseemedaforeign,butwelcome,concepttothemboth.TheirfightfadedintotherecessesoftheirbetterselvesandSewaneehadtheurgetotakehishandunderthetable.Butshedidn’t.
Aflurryofserverspresentedthefirstartworkofacourseandthesommelierpouredawhite.Nickwasabouttodigin,butStucluckedhistongue.“Whoathere,cowboy,everythingcomeswithanexplanation.”Theheadwaiterlaunchedintoadetaileddescriptionofwhatsatbeforethem.Thiswasimmediatelyfollowedbythesommeliertellingthemwhyhechosethisspecificwineto“notonlycomplementthedish,buttocreatearelationshipwithit.”Sewaneethought,ifthiswereLosAngeles,itwouldbepretentious,artificial,chi-chi.Buthere,inVenice,onanisland,itwasearned.
Theytookasumptuousbiteandchaseditwithahealthysipofwine.Allfoursatinamomentofsilence.Thekindofreverencereservedforprayer,asthoughtheyhadnevereatenbeforethismoment.
“Thatis…thisis…”Nickmurmured,thefirsttoattemptarticulation.“Whatthehellisthis?”
Stubangedthetable.“Andit’sagoddamnMarriott!”
Eachsubsequentcoursesomehowsurpassedthelast.Numbersevenarrivedandwasservedwithabeautifulorangewinewhich,untiltonight,Sewaneehadn’tknownwasacolorofwinethatexisted.Theconversationpartneredwiththefoodanddrinkasifithadaskedthemealforadance.
Currently,theywerediscussingtheJuneFrenchproject,andNick’srelationshiptohisaunt,andwhatitwaslikebeingraisedbyawriter,whichhadMarilynasking,“Haveyoueverwantedtowrite?”
“No.Well,Iguessifyoucountsongwritingthensure.”
“Holdeverything.”Stuquicklyswipedhisnapkinacrosshismouth.“You’reasongwriter?”
“Sortof.”
“Anddoesthatmeanyou’reamusician?”Stusmiledwide.
“Iwasinaband,inanotherlifetime.”
Stubeathischest.“Iusedtohaveaband.”Marilynchortled.“What?Soitwasinhighschoolandayearortwoincollege,it’sstillaband!”
Nickgrinned.“Whatdoyouplay?”
Stutwinkledalltenfingers.“Keys.You?”
“Alittleguitar.Singabit.”
“Andyouwroteyourownsongs?That’shuge.Wenevergotthatfar.”
Nicknodded.“Afewofthesongs.Mybestfriendwastheleadsingeranddidalotofthewriting.He’stherealtalent,I…IdowhatIcan.”
“Didyouhaveanysuccess?”Stuasked,poppingthelastpieceofperfectiononhisplateintohismouth.
“Wehadarecorddeal.Ahitsong.Weweretouring.”
“Oh,whatIwould’vegiven.Livingthedream!Whathappened?”
“Well.Mybestfrienddrovethatdreamfasterthanhecouldhandleit.Crashedandburned.”NicklookedathisplateandSewaneecouldfeelhimwarmingtothetopic,couldsensehimwantingtotellthisstory.“’Coursewehadour‘people’saying,keepgoing,thisiswhatmakesitgreat.ButIwatchedhimalmostdieonenightandthatwastheendforme.Gothimtothehospitalintime–pureluck–andassoonastheyreleasedhim,tookhimstraighttorehab.Burnedalotofbridges,brokealotofcontracts.”
“Didhemakeitout?”
“Hedid.”
“Youstillfriends?Youstillplaytogether?”Studemanded,fullyinvested.
“Thanksforasking,yeah.Hefollowedmeintoaudiobooks,actually.BecamemyprooferthenJunescoopedhimupasherproducer.Hehasoneofthosemagicears,youknow?Perfectpitchandsuch.Gearhead,too,onthetechside.Atotalsoundwizard.”
“That’sonehellofanimpressivefriendyougotthere.Yousavedmorethanalife,chief.Youeverpickitupagain?”
“Notforaboutfiveyears.We’dnoodlearoundwhenwewereinthesamecityandsendeachotherlicks,randomstuff,butweweren’tinit.Then,endoflastyear,afterJune…passed,hestartedtalkingaboutwantingtotryagain.Iwasthinkingitmightbeworthago.Sowefoundadrummer.Newkeyboardist.”Nicktippedhisheadacrossthetable.“WishI’dhaveknown,Stu.”
“Youbetterwatchyourself,Nickster,oryoumighthavesomeoldgeezershowupsometime.”
“Anytime.”Theysharedanodofmusicians’camaraderie,evenifonlyoneofthemwasaprofessionalmusician.
Thenextcoursearrived.Stuhelduphishands.“Question:Anyonehappentonoticethebread?”
Marilyntriedto,yetagain,pulluphisreins.“Stuuuu.”
“What?We’reonnumbereightandnobody’ssaidanything.I’vebeenpatient.”Stuturnedbacktothekids.“So,thebreads.Anything?”
Sewaneeenteredin.“Well,Ididnoticethemchangingthebreadafewtimesoverthecourseofthedinner.”
“Afewtimes?Everytime!Everycoursecomeswithitsownbread.YougetwhatI’msaying?It’slikewiththewine.Theypairit!AndagainIhavetosay–”
Andalltogether,theysaid,“It’saMarriott!”
Whenhe’dstoppedlaughing,Stucontinued,“Okay,backtotheband.Yougotaname?”
Nicktookabite.“Wehaveatemporaryname.It’sajokemostly,aninsidething,areferencetospendingthelastfiveyearsdoingRomancenovels.”
Sewaneeraisedaneyebrow.“Whatisit?”
Nickpaused.“TheBodiceRippers.”
Sewaneelaughedintohernapkin.
“Ooh!”Marilynexclaimed.“Howaboutthis?HowaboutTheNotoriousRakes?”
“OrjustTheRakes,”Sewaneeputin.
Nicklookedather.“TheRakes.Aye,thatcouldwork.”
“Whatkindofmusicdoyouplay?”Marilynasked.
“Americana,roots.Butabitindie.Singer-songwritery.Kindof.”HelookedatSewanee.“Jaysus,I’mterribleatthis.”
Stuasked,“Yougotanythingwecanlistento?”
“Oh,no.We’rejustgettinggoingagain,it’snotready–”
“Yougottastartputtingstuffoutthere.”
“Ha,yeah,no.I’mnotevensureI’mgoodenoughtomakethiskindofmusicyet.Butifsomethingdoescomeofit,I’lldefinitelypassitalong.”
“Whatdoyoumean,notgoodenough?”Stuwentbacktohisplate.
“Just…it’snewforus.Forme.It’sasoundthatdemandsmuchmoreofmyselfthanI’musedtoandit’s,uh…gotahighlevelofrisk,youknow?”
“So?”Stuasked,focusedentirelyongettingtherightcombinationofflavorsonhisfork.
“So…Idon’treallydorisk.”
SewaneecouldfeelNickchoosingnottolookather.
“Why?”
“BecauseI’mnottookeenonlosingeverythingagain.”
“Howareyougonnamanagethat,chief?”
Nickchuckled.Hetookaself-deprecatingbreath.“Can’tfailifIdon’ttry.”
NowStuwaslookingbackup,smiling.“That’saneattrick.”
“Ta,Ithinkso.”Hepickeduphiswine,grinning.“You’redyingtosortmeout,aren’tyou?”
“Who,me?Noway.Igotenoughtodealwithrighthere.”Stubroughtaknuckletohishead,tappedit.“Butyoudidsaysomethingthatstruckachordwithme–musiciantomusician!”Heburstoutlaughing.“Ididn’tevenseethatonecoming!”
Nickjoinedin.“Ithinkyouseeeverything,Stu.What’sthechord?”
Thishadtakenontheairofafriendlyping-pongmatch,asifeachmanhadpickedupapaddleafterafewdrinksandsaid,let’sseewhatyougot.SewaneeandMarilynwatchedavidly,spectatorsinthestands,enjoyingeveryvolley.
“You’reassbackwards.”
Nickthrewhisheadbackonalaugh.“AmInow?”
Stuchuckled.“Sorrytobethebearerofbadnews,buddyboy.”
Nickstuckouthishand,welcomingStu’sresponse.“Hitme.”
Stusuckedatooth,tookamoment.“You’reabsolutelyright.You’dregrettryingandfailing.ButI’lldoyouonebetter.Ifyoudon’ttry,giveitallyou’vegot,you’llregretthehelloutofneverknowingifyouwouldhavesucceeded.”
Nicksmiled.“Helluvachord,mate.Look,you’reright,Igiveyouthat.Butit’sstillscary.”
“Sowhat?Soit’sscary,why’sthatsuchabigdeal?”Nickwassilent.“I’mnottryingtoputyouonthespot,Nickster,I–”
“No,man,Iknow.Ijustcan’tthinkofagood–”
“Becauseregrethauntsyoufortherestofyourlife,”Sewaneechimedinfromthecheapseats.Shehadn’tintendedtosayanything,butassoonasshefelttheansweritwasoutofhermouth.ShecaughtMarilyn’seye.Hermothersmiledsadlyather.“It’slikeaghostthatrefusestoleaveyourhouse.”
Stubuggedhiseyes.“Why’sitgottaleave?What,youthinkyoucangetthroughlifeavoidingregret?Avoidingfailure?”Helaughed.“Spoileralert:lifeisregret,lifeisfailure.Butlikethatghost,youlearntolivewithit.Becausefailuremakessuccessmatter.”
Stuthrewhishandsup,out,encompassingthewholerestaurant.“Thiskid,thistwenty-eight-year-oldchefwithaMichelinstar.Youthinksomeonejuststuckitonhim,liketheyusedtodoingradeschool?”Hegesturedathisnow-emptyplate.“Youthinkhemadethis,whatever-it-is,foam-cloud-thing,perfectlythefirsttime?Thetenthtime?Thisisaplateoffailure.Now,I’mnotsayingwe’llallgetaMichelinstarifwejustpersevere,rah-rah-rah.Moreoftenthannot,thingsdon’tworkout.Speakingformyself,Iflat-outfailedwaymorethanIsucceeded.”
“Butyouweresuccessful.”
“Attimes.”
“Overall,”Nickargued.
Stushookhishead.“Butlife’snotastraightline,senator.Yougoup,yougetsmackeddown,yougetup,yougetknockeddown.Iputinforty-sevenyearswithNike,wentfromshoemakertoseniorVPofyaddayaddayadda.AndtruthfullyIwasalmostfiredasmanytimesasIwaspromoted.”StutookamomenttothinkanddrinkbeforeleaningintoNick.“I’mgonnabetheoldguyhereandgiveyousomebluntadviceyoudidn’taskfor:Taketherisk.Fail.”StuturnedtoSewanee.“Andletregretcomealongfortheride.”Heheldupafinger.“Apassenger,notthedriver.”Hesatback.“I’veseentoomanypeoplegetintomidlifecrisisterritorywonderingwherethetimewentandwhytheydidn’tdoanythingwithit.Youtwoarestillyoungenoughtoavoidallthiscrap.Theworldisyouroyster!”
“Oh,Nickhatesoysters,”Sewaneesaid,side-eyeinghim,smirking.
NickbitbackalaughandsaidtoStu,“Youhaveregrets,then?”
“Youkidding?Mybackseat’sfull.Andthetrunk!Look,Ilovedmyjob,butIloveditsomuchmyreallifepassedmeby.Neverhadawomansittingnexttomeforthelonghaul.”Heflungahand.“NeverhadaSewaneesittingacrossthetable.Neverhadthismagnificentcreature,thisbeautifultimepiecethatIgottonurtureandwatchgrowandwhonowcallsmejusttoseehowI’mdoing.Imean”–hereachedoverandtweakedherchin–“howcouldastupidjobmakingshoescomparetooneofthese?”HeandSewaneesmiledateachotherandhemused,“Itcan’t.I’llneverseemyselfinanythingotherthanamirror.AndnowallIseeisthis.”HepointedtohisbaldingheadandNickchuckled.
HetookStuinandthenhelookeddownatthetable,contemplating.“Wouldn’titbegrandifwecouldhavemultiplelivestolive?Doitafewdifferentwaysandthenpickthebestone?”
“Oh,Nicky.”Stugavehimafatherlysmile.“AllIknowis–”HebrokeoffandlookedpastNick’sshoulder,intothebackoftherestaurant.Hesatupabitstraighter.“Ah,”hemumbled.“Herewego.”
Thewaiterplacedagorgeousmirror-topchocolatecakeinthecenteroftheirtable.Ithadwhitepipedwritingonit.Sewaneecranedherneck,lookingatitupsidedown.“Whatdoesthatsay?”Sheglancedatthewaiter,whowasworryinghisfingersand,forthefirsttimethatnight,wasn’tforthcomingwithanexplanation.
“Yourmother’sgottenquitegoodwithherItalian,”Stusaid,andSewanee’seyewenttoMarilyn,whosehandhadgonetohermouth.
“Stu,”sheexhaled.
“Whatdoesitsay?”Silence.“Mom?”
“Sposami.”Marilynbarelygotthewordout.
Sewaneewasabouttosay“what”oncemore,butthenStuslippedoffhischair,gotdownononeknee,andpivotedtowardMarilyn,bringingasmallvelvetboxoutofhisjacketpocket.
“Holyshit!”Sewaneeshoutedandtheentirerestauranthushed.Sheslappedahandoverhermouth,themirrorimageofhermother.OneofMarilyn’shandsreachedforherdaughter’s.Sewaneeclutchedhermother’stremblinghandandwatchedherlifechange.
“Marilyn,”Stusaid,thenhisvoicesoftened:“Love.”AndSewaneeheardthesobthatcamefromhermouthbeforeshefeltit.“Youarethesurpriseofmylife.Ineverimaginedthisoldsneaker-makerwould–Jesus.”HechuckledandglancedatSewaneeandNick.“Thatsoundslikeaslur.”TheyalllaughedthroughtheirblossomingtearsandStuturnedbacktoMarilyn.“ThatIcouldenduphavingwhatI’dgivenupon.SomeonewhomakesmehappiereachdaythanIwasthedaybefore.AndIwantthatsomeonetobemywife.”Heopenedthebox.
Marilynstaredathim.Theywaited.Sheuncoveredhermouth,putherhandsonherhips.“Well,otherthanasliceofthatcake,Ican’tsayI’veeverwantedanythingmore.”Theybothsmiledtearfully.“Yes.Iwouldlovetobeyourwife.”
Shestood,gaveStuahelpinghandup,andhegentlyworkedtheringontoherfinger.Thentheykissed,andheldeachother,andkissedandheldeachotherasNickhootedandSewaneebattedawaythejoyfultearsstreamingdownhercheek.TheentirerestaurantapplaudedandStu’shandfounditswayontoMarilyn’sassandshegaveitaplayfulslapandeveryonelaughed.
Asilvertrayappearednexttothetable,hostingfourglassesofchampagne.Theytookthemup.Stupaused,steadyinghisvoice.“Ittookmealifetimetofindmyplaceinthisworld,butitwasworthit,becauseit’swithyou.”
Theyalldrankandthewholerestaurantcheeredagain,offeringcongratulationsinmanylanguages.
Caughtupinthecollectivevibrationoftheroom,Sewaneelookedaroundandsawthewaitstaffclusteredinthedoortothekitchen,watching,theirhandsupattheirchests,theirsmileswideastheGrandCanal.
ONTHETRIPbackacrossthelagoon,SewaneeandhermomchosethewarmthofthesmallcabinandNickandStubravedthelate-eveningchill,plantingthemselvesonceagainnexttothecaptainatthebow.AsMarilyntoldherabouttheirnextportofcall,Bari,SewaneewatchedNickandStuconverse.Whentheydocked,Sewaneesawthetwomenhug,asightthatfeltlikeanextrabiteofdessert.
TheystoodontheSt.Mark’sdock,waving,astheboattookStuandMarilynbacktothecruiseship.
NickturnedtoSewaneeassheturnedtohim,anexpectantlookinhereye.Shedidn’tknowwhattosayfirst.Shewantedtoapologizeforeverythingshe’dsaidearlier.Shewantedtoreliveeverytasteofthenight.Shewantedtocryoverhowhappyhermotherwas.Shewantedtothankhimforbeingaperfectdatetonight.Shewantedtokisshim,Lord,didshewanttokisshim.Butbeforeshecouldbroachanyofit,Nickdeadpanned,“Well,thankGodthat’sover.”
Sheburstoutlaughing.“Insufferable.Haveyouevermetanyonemoreboring?”
“Iwasthisclosetopushinghimoverthesideoftheboat.”
“Ugh,andthatfood?Itjustkeptcomingandcomingandcoming.”
“Andbeingforcedtositthroughsomelameproposal?Itwaslikeweweren’teventhere.”
“Weshoulddosomethingtocelebrateitbeingover.”
“Amen.”Nicksmileddownatherandherstomachflipped.“Whatshouldwedo?”
“Whatdoyouwanttodo?”
“Wecouldfightagain?”
Shechortled.“Pass.”
“Well,whatthen?”
Sheliftedaslinkyshoulder.“I’mopen.”
Hecockedhisjaw.“AndI’mnottouchingthat.”
“Yet.”
Nickchuckledsoftly,reachedoutandtookherfingers,lookeddownatthem.Shefeltherselfbeingpulledclosertohim,butcouldn’tbesurethesensationwasentirelyphysical.“Sewanee,”hesighed,lookingup.“Isowantto…”Hiseyeswentdark.“YouknowexactlywhatIwant.”
Shethrilledatthat.“DoI?”Shehopedthecoquettishtonecoveredanyinsecuritythatmightresideinthequestion.“Youhaven’ttriedtomakeamoveonce.”
Heentwinedtheirfingers.“We’vebeenaweebusy,haven’twe?”Hisfacepuckered.“Besides,whatareyoutalkingabout–Iproposedtoyouthismorning!”
Sewaneeraisedateasingbrow.“MaybeI’lltakeyoudowntoCityHall,maybe,whoknows,ohnevermind,don’tlistentome,I’mjet-lagged?I’mpositivelyaflutter.Downrighttwitterpated.”
“Fine,Icouldhavepolisheditupabit.But,inmydefense,Ididn’tknowStuwasgonnaupstageme!”Theylaughedandpulledclosertogether.“Restassured,”hemurmured,“IwantarepriseofeverythingwehadinVegas.IwanttopushyouupagainstaVenetianwall,arealonethistime.”
“Isthatathreatorapromise?”
Nicktookadeepbreath.“But.”
“Notanotherbut,”Sewaneegroaned
Hesqueezedherhand.“But!Nottonight.Tonight,I’mgoingtomakesureyougetbacksafelytoyourplace.Mightevengosofarastogetyoureadyforbed–”
“I’malreadyreadyforbed,”shehusked.
“Christ,thiswasalreadygoingtobehardandyou’redeterminedtomakeitharder.”
“Youmeanyourreaction?”
“Cute.”
Shepushedintohim,bringingthemflush.
Nickbowedhisbodyawayfromher,likeachildtryingtowriggleoutofacarseat.“Buuut,”hehuffedonalaugh.“Iwillbeleavingyoualonetonight.Ihavesomethingtodo.”
Sheleveledhimalook.“Noyou’renotandyes,youdo.”
“YesIamandno,it’snotyou.”
Theystaredateachother,eyestwinklingwithchallengeandmischiefandlonging.Itoccurredtoherthat,forthefirsttime,shefelttrulycomfortablewithhim,eventhoughherbodywasalivewireofneed.Howcouldhehavethiseffectonher?Howcouldhesothoroughlywindherupandsimultaneouslyputhercompletelyatease?Adangerouscombination,shethought.
“Well,”shesaidhaughtily,“we’llseewhathappenswhenwegettomyhotel.”
“Thatwewill.”
SewaneetookNick’shandandtheybeganwalking,thesoundoftheirfootstepsonthewoodenpierfillingthemidnightmist.ChapterEighteen
“TheResolve”
SEWANEESTOODINFRONTOFTHEENTRANCETOCOSMO’SSTUDIOgearingherselfuptoringthebuzzer.
Shehadalotonhermind.
Thedinnerandconversation.MarilynandStu’sengagement.Hertalkwithhermom.Thethingssheneededtochangeinherselfifshewantedanythingelsetochange.ButallofthatwasovershadowedbythewaythenighthadendedwithNick.
How?Howhadhewalkedherallthewaytoherpensione,anduptoherroom,andwatchedherundress–especiallygivenhowshe’dundressed–andtuckedherintobed,andthen…left?Everystepoftheirwalkhomeshe’dbeenthinkingitwascute,howfarhewastakingthiswholewill-they-or-won’t-theything.Butthenhedidit.He.left!Andstill,she’dbeensureshe’dhearaknockonthedooranyminutelater.Anycoupleofminutes.Anyfiveminutes,ten,twentyminuteslater.
Shedidnot.
Sheknewhewantedher.Hehadmadethatclearonthedock.Andyet,therewasthatgnawingfeelingcreepingaroundinsideher.Thatstalkinginsecurity.
Shetookadeepbreathofcrispmorningairandpressedthebuzzer.
Shewasimmediatelyadmitted,walkedupthestairs,andfoundNick’sscruffyfacewaitingforheratthetopofthelanding.“Morning,”hesaid,barelyaboveawhisper.Hewassmiling,soSewaneefollowedhislead,smilingback.
“Morning.Yougothereearly,too.”
Hissmilebroadened.“Comeonthrough,”hewhispered.Heheldafingertohislipsashestoodasidetoletherpass.
Sheenteredthestudio’scontrolroomandfoundCosmosleepingonthecouch.Thatexplainedthevolume.Nickwavedherintothesmallbreakroom,wenttoatinyFormicatable,pickedupato-gocoffeeandawhitepaperpastrybag.“First:caffeineandcarbs.”Heheldtheitemsouttoher.
Shesmiledappreciativelyandtookamuch-neededgulpofcoffeeandabiteofroll,andasked,withaffectedinnocence,“So.Howwasyournight?”
“Good.”
“Getdonewhatyouneededtogetdone?”
“Absolute-mente,”heanswered,inaremarkablyspot-onStuimpression.
“Lookslikeyoudidn’tgetmuchsleep.Whowasshe?”Tookanotherbite.
Nickchuckled.“Don’teven.”
Cosmoshuffledintothebreakroominleopard-printslippers,hairmussed,eyestwowateryslits,mouthacrookedsmile,mumbling“Buongiorno”and“Scusami”andsomethingentirelylostonSewaneeotherthantheword“Caffe.”Nickmovedoutofhiswayandsaid,“Takeyourtime,we’llgointothestudio.”
“Graziemille.”Hisvoicesoundedlikeabullfrogwithlaryngitis,butheturnedaround,rememberingsomething,andcontinued,“OhNick.Itellyou,lastnight…yousurpriseme.Yousogood.”
“Cheers,mate.”
Cosmoturnedbacktothecoffeemachine.NickandSewaneeleftthebreakroomandSewaneemurmured,“Soitwasahe?”
“What?”
“Nick-uh,”shebreathednearhisear,“yousogood-uh.”
Nickgroanedandcrossedtothesoundboard,pickingupasetofheadphones.“Takeaseat.”
Sheheldupahand.“I’mnotjudging!Heisadorable.”
Hetookherbytheshouldersandsatherdowninthechair.“Headphones.Onhead.”
Shegrinned.“WhatamIlisteningto?”
“Listentoasmuchasyoucanstand,thenyoucanyellatme,hitme,dowhateveryouwanttome.”
“Promises,promises.”Sheputontheheadphonesandcrossedherarms.
Nickwalkedaway,pressingabuttononthecontrolpanel.
ThesoundofBrockMcNight’svoicefilledherears.
Itwasthescenethey’drecordedyesterday.
Sheopenedhermouthtotellhimhe’dputonthewrongthing,butthensheheardit.
Thedifference.
Thiswasnotyesterday’sperformance.Thewordswerethesame,butthevocalizationwasnew.Itwasconnected.Itwasthevoiceshehadheardwhenhe’dreadGoodnightMoon.ItwasBrockMcNick.
Shewasdrawnintothestoryasanaromadrawsonetoameal.Sheuncrossedherarms,putherforeheaddownonthedesk,andjustlistened.Whenitgottothesteamyportion,shecouldn’thelpbutlookupatNick.He’dsatdowninCosmo’schairandwasleaningbackinit,hisbootsproppedontheedgeofthelowcoffeetable.Hecradledaguitar.
She’dneverseenhiminhiselement.Hemadesomuchsensethisway.AsshelistenedtoBrockdescribewhathewasdoingwithhishands,shewatchedNick’shandsglideupanddowntheguitar’sneckandexpertlypluckitsstrings.Thesoundwasnotbreachingherheadphones.Hewasplayingquietly,headtippedback,lipsmovingonlyslightly.Shedidn’tthinkhewassinging;washewritingsomethinginhishead?
Inherear,hisvoicecrackedwithlust.Withemotion.Thevulnerabilitywasunnerving.Arousing.
Whenhissectionwasoverandhersbegan,sheslowlytookofftheheadphones.
Athermovement,Nickstoppedplayingandturnedthechairslightlytofaceher.Shewasn’tsurewhattosay,butsheknewhimwellenoughalreadytoknowhewasn’tonetoletasilencelinger.Unlesstherewastouchinginvolved.
“Okay,”hemuttered.“Goahead,takeyourbestshot.”Heputhiselbowsonhiskneesandjuttedouthischinasifhewereputtinghisheadonachoppingblock.Heclosedhiseyes.
Sewaneeplacedakissonhischeek,lettingherlipslingerthere.
Nickopenedhiseyes.
Shepulledbackjustenoughsotheycouldlookateachother.Hesmiled.Shesmiled.Thenshebroughtherlipstohiswiththetenderesttouch.Theysuspendedthere,neverbreakingeyecontact.Itwasn’tataking,likeVegas;itwasagiving.Anexchange.Ofrespect,ofadmiration.Thegiftofbeingseenthroughakiss.
Theyeventuallypartedandleanedbackintheirchairs.
“Nick.”Despitehersmile,herthroattightenedslightly.“Thatwasincredible.”
Henoddedonce.“AndIloveddoingit.Gofigure.”Hetookherhand.“AndI’msorryforwhatIsaidyesterday.Youareadirector.Adamngoodone.SobetweenyoubeingyouandStubeingStu,allIcansayis,thanks.Ineededthat.”
“Howlongdidittakeyou?Howmanytakes?”
“One.”
“Seriously?”
Heshrugged.“Iimaginedyoustandingthereacrossfromme,andIspoketoyou.”
Sewaneegrinned.“Youacted.”
Heshookhishead.“Iwasbeingreal.”
Shegrinnedwider.“Exactly.”
Cosmowalkedinwithhiscoffee.“Heshowyouwhathedolastnight?”
“Yeshedid.”
“Isgood,no?”
“Isgood,yes.”
Cosmobeamed.“Igosetuptheroom.”Heshookhisfingeratthem.“Igoingtomissyou,thebothofyou.”Hewentintotheliveroomandstartedrearrangingmics.
SewaneeturnedbacktoNick.Herhandwenttoherheart.“Canwekeephim?”
Nickchuckled.“Iwishwecould.”
Shegesturedatthesoundboard.“Heisanamazingengineer.”
“Andyoushouldhearhimonbass.”OffSewanee’sconfusedlook,Nicksaid,“Wejammedabit.”
“Lastnight?Itwasmidnightwhenyouleftme.”
Nickscoffed.“It’samusicstudio,Iknewhe’dbehere.HehappenedtoberehearsingwithEnzoandMarioand…someotherO.SoIhungoutandwhentheytookabreakaroundtwo,Iaskedhimifhe’dletmedoanothertake.”
“Andthenyouwentbacktoyourhotel?”sheaskedrhetorically.
“Well.”Nickrubbedahandoverhisscruffyjaw.“TheotherOhadtogohomeandtheyneededaguitarist,so–”
“Soletmeguess.”Sewaneesmiled.
SodidNick.“Then,aroundfourorso,theotherguysleftandCosopenssomevinoandthenhestartstellingmeaboutthisAmericanactresshe’shadacrushonforyears.”
Sewaneelaughed.“Andhe’slike,you’refromAmerica,doyouknowher?”
Nicklaughed,too.“Right?Buthedidn’tknowhername,justknewtheshowshewason.Verypopularhere,apparently.”
“Whatwastheshow,maybeIknowher?”
“ItwascalledGetChelsea,andwhenwelookedup–”
“Nick!”Sewanee’seyebugged.“Ididaseasononthatshow.”
“Andwhenwelookedupthecast,guesswhotheactresswas?”
Sheblinkedathim.Latetotheparty.“Me.”
“Itwasdrivinghimmadyesterday.”Nickchuckled.“Sworeherecognizedyou.Buthewastooembarrassedtoask.”
SewaneepeekedthroughtheglassandcaughtCosmo’seye.Hesmiledsheepishlyandwaved.Shewavedbackwhilesaying,throughclenchedteeth,“Thisisoddlymortifying.”
“Why?Youweregreat.”
HerheadwhippedbacktoNick.“What?”
“Youwere.Wewereabletowatch–”
“Youwatchedtheshow?”
“No.”
Sheexhaledinrelief.
“Wefoundyourolddemoreelonlineandwatchedthat.”
Herfaceheated.Herthroattightened.“Tellmeyoudidn’t.”
Nickshrugged.“Okay,wedidn’t.”
“Youdidn’t?”
Nicklaughed.“Ofcoursewedid!Whywouldn’twewatchit?”Hissmilesoftened.Hetookabeat.“Whywouldn’tyouwantustowatchit?”
Theanswersatsilentlybetweenthem.Sewanee’sever-stalkinginsecurityunabletobespokenaloud.Ataloss,shelookeddownagain.
“Youwerebrilliant,”Nickmurmured.“Justlikeyou’rebrilliantinCasanova.You’resomethingelse,Swan.”
“No,”shemumbled,“I’msomeoneelse.”
Nick’slipsseparated.Hereachedoutandtippedherchinup.“Eventually,don’tknowwhen,buteventually?You’regonnahavetostopthinkingyou’renothingmorethanthedamagedversionofyourself.”
BeforeSewaneecouldrespond,Cosmocamebackintothecontrolroomandsaidtheirmicsweresetupandtheycouldstartwhenevertheywereready.
Nickstood.
Heheldhishandouttoher.
“Imayhavemissedmyopportunitylastnight,buthowaboutweputthistobed?”
THEYEXITEDTHEstudiointothebrightlightofday,giddy.There’dbeenagrovel,anadmissionoflove,mind-blowingmakeupsex,andthen,butofcourse,aproposalandensuingHEA.Andthroughoutitall,they’dbeenconnected.Real.
TheypausedonthesidewalkandNickclappedhishandstogether.“Right!Shouldwegotoyoursormine?”
Sewaneemadeashowofconsideringthis,battedherlashes.“Well,gosh,Nick.I’mnotsure.”
Hesmirkedandtookherhand,thenherwrist,thenherforearm,reelingherintohimlikearope.“Icanmakerightherework.”
Sewaneeunspooledherself,steppedback,putherhandsonherhips.“Ohgolly!Gee,Isimplycouldn’t.”Andthenshebouncedaway.Nickhadnochoicebuttogivechase.
Heraisedasuspiciousbrow.“WhydoIfeellikeI’minascenefromGrease?”
Sewaneegiggledcoyly.“Let’sgetacelebrationdrinkfirst,mister,andseewherethattakesus.”
“Tellmeyoumeanboozeandnotamilkshake.”
“Why,ofcourse,yousilly!”
Hesidledupclosetoher,hisfingersfindingtheirwaytothebackpocketofherjeans.“Isitweirdthiswholeretrothingisturningmeon?”
Sheslappedhishandaway.“Youbehaveyourself,NicholasSullivan.”
Nickgroaned.“Isthispaybackforlastnight,SandraDee?”
Sewaneestopped,turnedaround,allwidedolleyes,andplacedherhandonherchest.“Why,whateverdoyoumean?”Neverbreakingeyecontact,sheslowlyslidherhanddownward,andthenaroundbothbreasts,andthenoutforhimtotake.Daintily.Likealady.“Shallwe?”
Justashewasabouttotakeit,sheturnedandkeptwalking.
“Oh,wearegoingto‘shallwe’allright,”Nickpromised,trottingafterher.
Theycrossedapiazza,theopendoorofatavernaontheothersidebeckoning.Therewereafewtablessetupoutside,foldedwoodenchairsleaningagainstthem.Theysatandwaitedfortheservertocomeandtaketheirorder.NormallySewaneewouldhaveventuredinsidetogetsomeone’sattention,butnottoday,notnow.EveryextraminutesheplayedNickwasanhourinNicktime.Besides,shewasmorethancontenttobesittinginasomewhatricketychair,atasomewhatricketytable,withaverysolidNick.Asolidifsomewhatfrustrated,somewhatderailed,somewhatput-outNick.
Beforethewaiterevenlandedatthetable,Nickhelduptwofingersandcalledouttohim,“Prosecco,grazie.”
Thewaiterspunrightaroundandwentbackinside.
Nickwassilent,lookingoutatthepiazza.Hedrummedhisfingersonthetablebetweenthem.
“Whatareyouthinking?”sheaskedinhernormalvoice.
“WhatIwanttodotoyoufirst,”heansweredwithouthesitation.
Wouldhishonestdirectnessevernotcatchheroffguard?Itwassodisarminglysexy.
Shelookeddownathishand.Attheringonhismiddlefinger.Shereachedoverandtouchedit.“Doesthishaveastory?”
Heinterlacedtheirfingers.“ItwasTom’s.June’sex-partner?Sherefusedtomarryhim.Andshedidn’tbelieveinrings.Buthedid,soheworeone.”
“That’ssweet.”
“No,it’snot.Itwasafight.Everythingwiththemwasafight.Youdon’twanttomarryme?Fine!I’llweararinganyway,howdoyoulikethat?”Nickhadtochuckle.“Maniacs.”Hisfocuswentbacktoit.“Ifounditinherstuffaftershedied.Ineverknewshe’dtakenitwithherwhenshemovedusbacktotheStates.”
“Ishestillaround?”
“Heis.I’mactuallygoingtostopoverinDublinonthewayhome.Checkonhim.”Helookedintohereye.“Hetookithard.Eventhoughit’sbeen,what,twentyyearssincetheysplit.Ithinkhealwaysbelievedshe’dcomebacktohim.”
ThewaiterdroppedofftwoglassesofbubblyandNickgavehimcash,toldhimtokeepthechange.Whenhewasgone,theyraisedtheirglasses.
“To…”Nicksaid,anechooftheirVegastoast.HewaitedforSewaneetojoinin,butshetookamomentandthensaidinstead:
“ToJune.”
“Ofcourse,”hemurmured,“toJunie.”Then,“Forbringingyoutome.”
“Andyoutome.”
Theybothsipped.
“IdecidedlastnightI’mofficiallydone,”Nicksaid,settingdownhisglass.“Casanova’sgonnabeBrock’slastproject.”
“Really?”
Nickwavedahand.“I’mready.AndIcouldn’thaveahighernotetogoouton.”Hesmiled.“Besides,SarahWestholme’sspoiledmeforanyotherco-narratorandshe’sretreatingbackintothemistsofretirement.”
Sewaneewatchedthebubblesriseupinherglass.“Iactuallydon’tknowaboutthat.”Nickquirkedhisheadatherandshemethisgaze.“Ilikedit.IlikeddoingRomance.”
Nickputhishandoverthetopofherglass.“Don’tdrinkanymoreofthis,Ithinktheyputsomethinginit.”
Sewaneechuckled,shrugged.“I’mserious.”
“ButyouhatetheHEAbullshit.”
Athisskepticallook,shetookbackherglass.“Imean,yes.Ihatedthepremisethatallwehavetodoisendurethetwistsandtrope-yturnsoflifeandthen,bam,wegetrewarded.Ridiculous.”
“Indeed.”
“ButrecentlyI’vebeenthinking…”Shelookedoutatthepiazza.“Ihaven’tgotthistotallyfiguredout,butIthinkmyproblemwasthatitpromisedsomethingunattainable.Wecannowrestassuredthesepeoplewillgoforthandlivehappilyeverafter.But,really,HEAcomesfromfairytalesandfairytalesendwith:andtheylivedhappilyeverafter.Lived.Notlive.Pasttense,notpresent.Andthatworksforme.”
Nick’sbrowcrinkled.Heleanedforward.“Sorry,thetensechangemadeitworkforyou?”
“Granted,I’mawordnerd,butyeah.”Hestilllookedconfusedsosheleanedforward,too.“ToliveHEAistosay,fromtodayonwardlifewillbehappy.Imean,howcanyouknowthat?Shithappens.Overandover.It’swhatStuwassayingatdinner,that’swhatgotmethinkingaboutthis.Thatlifeisn’tlinear.Aboutthatincredibledishbeingaplateoffailure.”Sewaneetookasip.“Idon’tthinkyoucanknowifyoulivedhappilyeverafteruntilyourlife’sover.”Shesetdownherglass.“Maybethat’swhyyourwholelifeflashesbeforeyoureyeswhenyoudie.Soyoucanseethemoviefrombeginningtoendandknow.”
Nickdroppedhischininhishandandgazedather.Hetappedhistemple.“Isitalwayslikethisinthere?Doesyourneckgetsorefromholdingthatbigbrainupalldaylong?”
Shesnorted.“Anyway,it’snotridiculous.It’snotbullshit.Itispossible.It’snotfantasyorreality.Ahappilyeverafterisbuiltbyboth,together,overalifetime.”
Nicktookamoment.“Yeah,I’vebeenthinkingtheexactsamething.”Sewaneelaughed,buthesaid,“No,seriously,it’salmostexactlywhatIwastalkingtoStuaboutontheboatridebacktoSt.Mark’s.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Whatwereyoutalkingabout?”
“Emersonanddolphins.”
Sewaneechuckled.
“Afterathrillingdissertationonthestripeddolphin’smigratorypatternsandmatingirregularitieshebroughtupthatEmersonquote:it’snotthedestination;it’sthejourney.AndhesaidEmersonwasassbackwardslikeme.Thatitisthedestinationandnotthejourney.Becauseonlyafteryou’vearrivedcanyoujudgethemeritofthejourney.Butthenhesaid”–andhere,Nickdroppedintohisdead-onStuimpression–“itprobablywasn’tEmersonanyway,itwasprobablysomebumperstickerwriterandnooneshouldtakeadvicefromabumpersticker,orahas-beensneaker-makerforthatmatter,anddidIhappentonoticehoweachwinecameinadifferent-shapedglassatdinner?”
Sewaneelaughed,then,imitatinghermom,said,“Stuuuuu.”
Nicklaughedaswell.“IthinkthosetwohaveashotatHEA.”Hesatback,tookanothersip,andassessedher.“SomoreRomance,eh?”
Sewaneesipped,too.“Maybe.Notnecessarilynarrate.MaybedirectsomeDuets.MaybefindthenextBrockMcNight.”
Nickhadaparticularlookonhisface.
Shereachedover,pattedhisforearm.“Aww,don’tworry.You’llalwaysbemyfirst.”
Hecaughtherhandasshepulleditback.Hebroughtittohismouth.Ranhislipsfromherwristupalongthesideofherpinky.Kissedthetipofherfinger.Thenthecenterofherpalm.Breathedin.“Doneplayinggames?”
Herfaceopenedlikeaflower.“Yes.”
Withherotherhand,sheliftedherglass.Hepulledbackandliftedhis.Shequietlysang,“You’retheonethatIwant,youaretheoneIwant.”
Hegrinnedandreturned,“Ooh-ooh-ooh.”
Theyfinishedtheprosecco,stood,andleftthetablehandinhand.
ASTHEYWOUNDthroughtheGhettoandbacktothecenteroftown,thedistantsoundofacellodrewthemintoanotherpiazza.Inthemiddle,alonecellistsatonastool,hatatherfeetbrimmingwithcoins,playingasonata.Afterwatchingforamoment,NicktuggedSewaneeintohisarmsandbegandancing.
Asmuchasshewantedtogetbacktothehotel,thisrhythmicswayingfeltlikethepinnacleofintimacyandshemeltedintohim.“Canwestaylikethisforever?”
Shefelthischuckleinherchest.“Yes.Atleastuntilwehavetogobacktotherealworld.Orgethungry.”
Theycontinueddancing.SewaneeknewthatbeyondNick’shumor,therewasasoberingtruth.Sheknewwhatshecouldexpectfromhiminahotelroom;shedidn’tknowwhatlaybeyondthat.Shefeltsafeenoughinhisarmstoask:
“Whathappensthen?”
“Areyouaskingwhatmyintentionsare?”Sheheardthesmileinhisvoice
“Kindof.Yeah.”
“Simple.Iwanttobewithyou.”Athersilence,hepushedheraway,coaxingheroutintoalazyspin.“Whatdoyouwant?”
Sewaneesmiledback,butexhaled.Longandslow.
Nickreeledherbacktohim.“Remember,now:there’snothingmoreattractivethanawomanwhoknowswhatshewants.”
Histonewaslight,allunaffectednonchalance.Butshealsofelttheslightesthintofdiscomfort.
“Iwanttoknowthisisreal,”shesaid.“Buthowcan…isthatevenpossible?”
“YouwanttheRomanceversionortheWomen’sFictionversion?”
Shelookedupathim.“Neither.Iwantthereal-lifeversion.”
Hespunherbackout,thinking.“Wedolongdistanceforawhile.Untilwecanorganizeourlivesinsuchawaythatwecanbetogether.”Hepulledherbackin.
“How?”
“We’llfigureitout.”
“Buthow?”
“Wejustwill.”
“Howcanyoubesoconfident?”
“BecauseIbelieveinus.”Hepeereddownather.“Don’tyou?”
“Ofcourse.”Sheusedtheopportunityofduckingunderhisarmtobreakeyecontact.“Butthere’ssomuchgoingon.Somuchupintheair.Forbothofus.Somethingcouldhappenandthenwhat?”
“Somethingwillhappen.Probablymanythings.We’llgetfrustrated.Angry.We’lldisappointeachother.We’llsaythingswedon’tmeanbutdeepdownkindameanalittle.”
“Orworse.”
Hisfeetslowed.“What’sgoingon?”
Shetuggedhisshouldertowardher,willinghimtorecommittothedance,evenasshekepthergazeaverted.“IthinkI’mscared.”
“Of?”
“You.You’re…you’relikesome…”
“Yes?”
“Somesuper-stealthsexweaponthatcouldgorogueatanymoment,”sheblurted.
Nickbeltedoutalaugh.“What?”
“You’reliketheJasonBourneofRomance.Youknowthingsnomanshouldknow.Amilitary-gradeweaponjustwalkingaroundinbroaddaylight.”Shewidenedhereye,leanedintohowabsurdherfearswere,especiallyasshewasnowsayingthemaloud.“HowcanIknowyouwon’tuseyourpowersforill?”
Nickansweredhonestly.“Youcan’t.”
Inforapenny,inforapound,shesupposed.“HowcanIknowyou’llalwayswantme?”
“Youcan’t.”Again,withatoneofsincerity.Hisrefusaltoengageinfalsereassurancesoremptyflatterytuggedadisconcertedchuckleoutofher.“I’mserious.Howcanyouknowyou’llalwayswantme?WhatifIgainahundredpounds?Losemyhair?Mymind.Whatif,whatif,whatif?”
“I’dstillwantyou,”sheansweredseriously.
Theystoppeddancing,butremainedclose.Heshookhishead.“Youdon’tknowthat.”
“Ido.”
“Feelingsaren’tconstant,they’retransient.Sometimesforthebetter,sometimesnot.Youcanbelieveinthem,butyoucan’tknowthem.Howcanyouknowwhatsomethingisbeforeitbecomesit?It’slike…”Hisvoicefaded.“Likeacaterpillarandabutterfly.”
“What?”
Nickshookhishead.“Nothing.Riffing.”Hereachedup,pushedherhairoffherface.“Youjustgotdonetellingmeyoucan’tknowanHEAuntilit’sbeenlived,butnowyouwantaguaranteeofgettingthere?”
“Notaguarantee,no,butsomeassurancethat–”
“IcanassureyouIwon’tcheatonyou,becausethatisinmycontrol.Icanonlycontrolmyactions,Ican’tcontrol…life.”Nickstarteddancingagain.“Whydoyouautomaticallyassumetheworst?”
Histonewasremarkablyvoidofjudgment.Hewascurious.Shesighed.Heraccident?Herfather?Herinsecurity?Pickone.“Because…because…”Ah-ha.“Becausewedon’tfeelrealtome.ItfeelslikewefelloutofaRomancetreeandhiteverytropeonthewaydown.”
Helaughed.“SnowedIn.”
“JustOneNight.”
“Epistolary.”
“MistakenIdentity.”
“LoveTriangle.”
Shechuckled.“Foraminute.”
“Ithinkthatmeanswe’reontoSecondChance,no?”Shedidn’tanswer.Hishandwidened,fingersspanningmoreofherwaist,herback.Thehandholdinghersinterlacedtheirfingersandhebroughtittohischest.“Thisisn’trealenoughforyou?Whatdoyouneed?Somedeusexmachina?Somecontrivedfightoverapointlessmisunderstandingtomakeyourealizewhatyouhadandalmostlost?”
Sewaneeshookherhead.Thiswasn’taJuneFrenchnovel.Theydidn’tneedtodramaticallyblowapartinordertocomebacktogether.Theywerejusttwopeopledoingtheirbesttonotstepontheother’stoeswhilefiguringouthowtodance.
Thecellisthadendedthesong.Theypartedforamomentandclappedappreciatively.Shebeganplayingagain.
Beforereengaging,though,Sewaneesaid,“Iwanttoknowwearen’tmistakingthisforsomeRomancenovel.”
“We’renot.Wecanwriteourownbook.Daybyday,pagebypage.”
Shesawtheslightestflickerofdoubtinhiseyes.Notdoubtinwhathebelievedtobetrue,butinwhethershecouldbelieveit,too.Inhercapacitytobelievesomethingthatcouldn’tbeknown.Sure,shecouldaccepttheconceptofHEAinthephilosophicalabstract,buthere,inthepracticalityofanintimatemoment,inhavingtomakeachoiceandlivewithitsconsequences…hewasn’tsureshecoulddothat.
Shesawhimfully,then.Thepiecesofhimselfthathe’ddisparatelysharedwithherandwhichshe’ddiligentlycollected,butcouldn’tassemble:achildwhogrewupneverhavingthesecurityofbelievinghe’dbeenwanted;amanwho’dlosthisdreamandwaslearninghowtobelieveinitagain.Shesawfailureandsuccess,weaknessandstrength,andmostofall,thelongingforsomeonetoloveallofit.Tolovehim.
“AskmeagainwhatIwant,”shemurmured.
“Whatdoyouwant,love?”
“Idon’twanttobeinanybookwithyouanymore.Iwanttobeinreallifewithyou.”
“Howeveritmayend?”
“Yes.”
“Happilyornot?”
Shewassurprisedtofindtheanswersoeasytosay.“Yes.”Then,“Absolute-mente.”
Thekisstheysharedthistimewasnotchaste.
Sheheardclapping,acoupleofcatcalls,andwastransportedbackintimetoaLasVegasblizzard,Nickpushingheragainstawall,arovingpackofunchaperonedboyshooting.Thedifferencethistimewasshehadnothingholdingherupright,theywereunmooredinthemiddleofacobblestonepiazza,andshefeltherheadswimandherkneesliquify.Sheclungtohimtighteruntilhemuttered,“Weneedtogo.”
“Please,”shepanted.
“I’mlegitimatelyterrifiedsomething’sgoingtoruinthis.”
Sheguffawed.“We’retemptingfate.”
Hegrabbedherwaist.“Didyoufeelthat?!”Hemethereye.“Thatwasn’tanearthquake,wasit?”Thenhetickledher.
“Oh,no!”shescreeched,squirmingaway.
Hegrabbedherfrombehind.“I’llsaveyou!”Hepickedherupandwalked,thewayaslightlylargerchildcarriesaslightlysmallerone.Theywerelaughinggiddily,trippingoverthemselves,utterembarrassments.“Anythingcouldhappen!Atanymoment–”
Herphonerang.
Theyfroze.
“No,”Nickwhisperedasifitcouldhearhim.Hedroppedher.Shespunaround.Hisfingercametoherlips.“Don’tanswerit.”
“Nick,I-Ihaveto.Ithasn’trungonceinthreedays,whatif–”
“No,right,ofcourse.”Hesteppedback,rakedahandoverhisface,tookashakybreath,allwhileshefishedherphoneoutofherjacketpocket.
Anunfamiliarnumber,butanL.A.areacode.Herheartstuttered.Sheanswered.“Hello?”
“Hi,isthisSewaneeChester?”
“Yes?”
“Hiya,thisisAdakuObi’smanager,ManseRollins,howyadoin’?”
“Uh.Fine.”
“Good,good,gladtohearit.So,listen,wehaveanissue.”
Anissue?Anissueatalentmanagerwouldbecallingherabout?Didtheywantherfortherole,afterall?Thethoughtmadeherstomachflip.But,interestingly,notinjoyorexcitement.Insomethinguncomfortablyclosetodread.
Andinthatinstantaneousgutcheck,herrelationshiptoactingbecameclear:shedidn’twantitanymore.
“What’sgoingon?”sheasked.
“Well,Adaku’sinthehospital.”ChapterNineteen
“TheReconciliation”
SEWANEELANDEDATLAXANDMADEONESTOPBEFOREGOINGTOTHEhospital,wheresheshowedherIDatthreedifferentdesks,andwasadmittedtoAdaku’sprivateroom.Whenshetentativelysteppedinside,herbreathcaughtatthesightofAdakusittingupinbed,alone,lookingoutthewindow.Itwasasifshe’dbookedatragicroleinsomemedicaldrama.Buttheroom,thesmell,themonitors,thegauzepatchon
Sewaneewasn’tsurewhattodo.Approachhersilently?Announceherself?Sheswallowedand,withavoicethatsoundedlikeplacingahandgentlyonherfriend’sback,said,“Adaku?”
Herheadturnedslowlytothedoor.Sheblinked.“Swan.Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Sewaneeheldupthesmall,whitecardboardbox.“JustthoughtyoumightwantsomeIn-N-Out.”
ThesmilewasnotAdaku’susualblindinglybrightone.Itwasmoreableedofsunlightinanovercastday.“Youalwayscouldmakeanentrance.”Sewaneecrossedtoherandhandedoverthebox.“Howdidyou–”
Shewantedsobadlytotalk,sheansweredbeforethequestionwasfinished.“Mansecalledme.I’myouremergencycontact,remember?Iwouldhavebeenheresooner,butIwasinVenice.”
“TrafficisterribleontheWestside,”Adakusaidautomatically.
Sewaneechuckled.“NotVeniceBeach.Italy.IwasinVenice,Italy.”
“What?Whatareyou–howlonghaveIbeenhere?”
SewaneetookinAdaku’sbloodshot,wateryeyesandunderstoodthiswasworsethanshe’dbeentold.Onthefirstcall,Mansehadsaidtheydidn’tknowwhatwaswrong,justthatshe’dbeenadmitted.Thatwasenough.Sewaneehadthrownherthingstogetherandrushedtotheairport,Nickintow,doinghisbesttocalmher.Heofferedtogo,too,butshethoughtitbetterhesticktohisplantoseeTominDublinandheagreed.Bythetimeshe’dlandedatherlayover,Mansehadleftavoicemail:actually,Adakuwasonlyalittledehydrated,andanythingSwancoulddotogetherbacktoGeorgiaasquicklyaspossiblewouldbesuperappreciated.
Shesatdownontheedgeofthebed.“It’sbeenabouteighteenhours.Thenursesaidyou’vebeenasleepformostofit.”Sheopenedthebox.“Double-Double,friesextracrispy.”
Adakuslidherhandunderthepaper-wrappedburgerandlifteditfromtheboxlikeanOscar.Shetookabite,closedhereyes,andmoaned.Shegrabbedsomefriesandstuffedthemintoherburger-filledmouth.SewaneeenjoyedwatchingthisasmuchasAdakuenjoyeddoingit.SherestedherhandbyAdaku’ship,purposefullynottouchinghereventhoughshewantednothingmorethantodojustthat.
“OhmyGod,cheese.Grease.Bread.Sogood.”AtleastSewaneethoughtthat’swhatshesaid.“Andthewaytheburgermixeswiththefriesinyourmouth?”Sheswallowedandopenedhereyes.“Thankyou.”Thepleasurethathadlitherfaceaminutebeforeslidaway.“Swan,Idon’tknowwhattosay–”
Sewaneeinterruptedagain.“I’lltalk,youeat.”
Adakusmiledweaklybutwryly.“Youknowhowtoshutmeup.”Shepickedtheburgerbackupandtookanothereagerbite.
Sewaneebreathed.“Firsttheeasypart.I’msosorry,A.Andthosewordsdon’tcomeclosetodescribinghowbadlyIfeelabouteverythingIsaid.Iwasinahorribleplace.ForamuchlongertimethanIevenknew.Andwhenthatrolecamealong,I…itwaslikethrowingadrowningpersonalifepreserver.Itwasgoingtosaveme.Saveus.Wecouldbeusagain.”
“Iwantthatsobad.”Adakuswallowed.“WhenIwatchedthatpropeller…Icouldn’tdoanythingtostopit.ThiswashowIcouldfinallydosomething.Gobackintimeandmakeitgoaway,”AdakuwhisperedandSewanee’sheartbroke.
ShemovedherhandfromitscarefulpositiononthebedandgentlysettleditonAdaku’sthigh.“Butthat’snotpossible.AndImadeyoufeelterribleforfailingtodotheimpossible.”Sewaneesmiledsadly.“Asmuchasyourrelentlessoptimismdrivesmenuts,Iwantedit.Andyoucertainlyhaveenoughtogoaround.SoIpretendedtohaveit,too.Butitwasn’twhatIneeded.”
AdakunudgedtheboxtowardSewanee.“Whatyouneedissomeofthesefries.”
Sewaneeputafewinhermouth,chewed.“WhenIsawMom,shesaid–”
“Whendidyouseeyourmom?”
“InVenice.That’swhyIwent.WetalkedandtherewasonethingshesaidthatIsowishyoucouldhavebeentherefor.Shesaidthatyou’veallbeenwaitingformetobeokaywithwhathappened,toacceptmyselfasIamnow,soyoucouldbeokaywithit.ButI’vebeenwaitingforallofyoutotellmeit’sokay,that…”Herthroatsqueezed.“ThatI’mokay.Anditwassounfairofmetoputthatoneveryoneelse.IwantedyoutothrowmealifepreserverbecauseIdidn’twanttosavemyself.Ididn’twanttolearnhowtoswim.”
Adakuchewedthoughtfully,silent.
“AndthenNicksaid–”
Hereyesbugged.“You’retalkingtoNick?”
“Yeah,hewasthere,too.”
“What?”Sheswallowedherfood.“Whendidyoucallthissummitandwhywasn’tIinvited?”
“HesaidIneedtostopthinkingI’mnothingmorethanthedamagedversionofmyself.ThatwhoIwasiswhoIam.”Shelookeddownattheblanket.“Anditmademethink:webreak,inmanydifferentways.Butitdoesn’tmeanwe’rebroken.DoyougetwhatImean?”
Adakuwavedaweakhandaroundthehospitalroom,hergown,herbustedhead.“Notintheslightest.”Shetossedthenowemptyboxaside,andheldupherarms,beggingSewaneeintoahug.“Canyouputallthatintomydripanddirectlyintomyvein?”
Theyfellintoeachotherandheldonasiftheywerefloating.Neitherneedingtheotherforsaving,bothabletoswim,butrestingoneachotherforamoment,catchingtheirbreath.
Whentheyseparated,Sewaneepointedathereyepatch,thenatherfriend’sbandage.“Twinsies!”
Adakublurtedalaugh.
Sewaneetookamoment.“So,whathappened?”
Adakusighed,lookeddown,pickedthesaltfromunderhernails.“It’ssoembarrassing.WhenIleftyourplace–Iwasn’tahundredpercentfromtheLondontrip.Tired,nauseous,muscleaches,runningonadrenaline.GottoGeorgiaandtheyimmediatelytookustothewoods.Camping,hunting…bonding.”Sherolledhereyes.“Buttwodaysinastormhitandwewentbacktocivilization.WhereIgotane-mail.TheAngelaDavispeoplewantedtohaveameeting–”
“No.”
“Yes.SoIgotonared-eyebacktoL.A.”Adakucontinued,sarcastically,“Becauseitwasmeanttobe!AndIcanhandleit.Ihandleeverything.Nosleep,noproblem.Trainsixhoursaday,sevendaysaweek,sure.Yearswithoutasingledaytomyself,bringit.AllthistimebustingmyassandIstillfeellikewe’rebackinWashingtonHeights,mewithoneauditionforeverytenofyours.Twiceashardtogohalfasfar,right?Thatshitneverends.SoofcourseI’llkillmyselftomakethatmeetinghappen.KillmyselftobetheunimpeachablepictureofthestrongBlackwomanmanifestinghersuccess,and–”Sheabruptlysobbed.Tearspouredfromhereyesandsheturnedtowardthewindow,asifshecouldgraboxygenfromit.Sewaneeclutchedherhandandstrokedherlegthroughtheblanket,swallowingbackherowntears.Adakuwrestedcontrolandcontinued,inastrainedvoice,“Ididn’tmakethemeeting.”
“Whathappened?”
“Iguessapanicattack?ButIpushedthroughit.ThenIgotofftheplaneandsteppedouttothearrivalscurb,and…splat.Onthesidewalk.”Shepointedatthegauze.“Crack.”
Sewaneewinced.“God,A.”
“Exhaustion,”Adakumumbled.“Whatacliché.”
SewaneepickedupacupofwateronthetraytablenexttothebedandgaveittoAdaku.“Drink.”
Shetookasip,handeditbacktoSewanee.Tookamoment.“Thisisafuckedbusiness,Swan.Nobodycares.It’saboutnothingbutmoney,power,thespecialtreatment.Wedidn’tgetitatthetime,butrememberourbiggoal?Makeamillionbeforewe’rethirty-five?Itwasn’taboutart,ortalent,orbeingsomeoneinthisworld.Itwasaboutbeingsomething.Acommodity.Somethingthatwouldonedaybeworthamilliondollars.”Sheclosedhereyes,tippedherheadback.“Youdon’tknowhowluckyyouare.Thisneverstopsbeinghard.EverytimeIwin,Idon’tdarethinkaboutwhatthatwincostme.I’mjustontothenextone.”Sheopenedhereyes,gesturedharshlyatthebed.“Imean,whatdoesittakeforustowakethefuckup?”
Sewaneesqueezedherhand.“Idon’tknow.”
“Thisbetterbeit.”Shesighedroughly.“Idon’tevenknowwhatI’mdoingthisforanymore.Servingasystemthatdoesn’tserveme?Forgoinghappinesstomaybebehappyeventually?”Sheshookherhead,bewildered.
Sewaneewasn’tpreparedtohelpherthroughthisthewayshewantedtobeableto.Allshecoulddorightnowwasgiveherwaterandholdherhandandbethere,finallybethere,forher.WhenAdakuhadcalmedabit,Sewaneesaid,“Doyouthinkwecouldfindatwo-for-onedealonatherapist?”
Adakuchuckled.“YouandIwouldbreakaGrouponshrink.WeneedtheCadillacpackage.”
“I’minifyouare.”
Adakuheldupapinky.“Deal.”
SewaneehookedhersintoAdaku’sandthenAdakutookadeepbreathandclosedhereyes.“HowaboutsomeNickdetailsforyourgirl?”
“Later.Youshouldsleep.”
“No,I’mgood.”Butshesoundedlikeshewasalreadyhalf-gone.
Sewaneestood.“I’mgonnagotakecareofsomestuff.I’llbebackinabit.”
“Canyou…”Shereallywasalmostout.
Sewaneesmiled.“What?”
“Bringmeablackandwhite…youknow.Themilkshake…withthe…?”
Andthenshewasasleep.
SEWANEEEXITEDTHEhospital,steppedovertoasittingarea,tookoutherphone,andcalledBlahBlah.She’dbeentoldtogiveittimeandshehad.Surelyithadbeenlongenough.
Insteadofhergrandmother’svoice,shegotarecording.Thenumberhadbeendisconnected.
Herpanicwasinstantaneous.ShecalledSeasons’generalnumberandattemptedtocalmlyasktherightquestionsintherightorder.Shegotasfaras“BarbaraChester”andtheharriedreceptionisttoldhertopleasehold.
Thenextthingsheheardwas,“Hellooo?”
Sewaneeletoutaraggedsigh,droppedontoabench.“BlahBlah.It’sSewanee.”
“Who?”
She’dexpectedthis.“Dollface?”
Threefullsecondsandthen:“Dollface!How’smyfavoritegirl?”
Thatrefrainhadneversoundedbetter.Thebestrefraininthehistoryofrefrains.“I’mfine,”shesaidshakily,“buthowareyou?Iseverythingokay?”
“Oh,heavensyes!Everyoneissonicehere.Thislovelyyoungmanisreadingtome.”Blahloweredhervoice.“Ithinkhe’sabitofaflirt,ifyouaskme.Youshouldsayhellotohim.”
“No,BlahBlah,that’sokay.Ijustwantedto–”
“Hi,Swan.”
Theunmistakablevoiceofherfather.“Dad.”Shetightenedrightbackup.“Whatareyoudoingthere?What’sgoingon?Issheokay?”
“Relax,Sewanee.Theworldisstillturningonitsaxis.”
“Dad,please,tellmewhat’shappening.”
“I’mgettinghersettledinhernewroom.”
“What?”
Headoptedamoreserioustone.“Amandacalled.Thetimehadcome,therewasanopening.SoImovedherintomemorycare.”
Sewanee’smouthopened.“Oh.Wow.Okay.Howisit?”
“It’snice.Verynice.She’sveryhappyhere.”Therewastheslightestpausebeforehesaid,“I’mgladyoulistenedtome.”
Sewanee’smouthopenedwider.Butthenhechuckled.Rueful.Conciliatory.Shedecidedtoplayalong.“Well,youdoknowbest.”
“Sometimes.”ThatwasascloseasHenrywouldgettoanapology.
She’dtakeit.
Shepaused.“Areyoureallyreadingtoher?”
“I’masorrysubstitutefortheprofessionalinthefamily,butshedoesn’tseemtomind.”
“Whatareyoureading?”
“Hemingway.”
“Tryingtoputhertosleep?”
“Funny.”
“Thankyou.”
Theyranoutofbanter.Shecouldn’trememberthelasttimeshe’dfeltcomfortableduringasilencewithherfather.Shewasn’tthinkingofsomethingsmartorsarcastictosay.Shewasn’tthinkingthreestepsahead.Instead,sherepeatedthetwowords,thistimewithadifferenttone.“Thankyou.”
NowHenrypaused.“Youshouldn’tbethankingme.”
“Idisagree.”Sewaneechosehernextwordscarefully.“You’resohardtolistentobecauseyoudon’tlisten.Butthistimeyoudid.Andyouchangedyourmind.So,thankyou.Iappreciatethat,Dad.Appreciateyoufordoingthat.”
“That’snotnecessary,youdon’thaveto…”buthewentquietandhisbreathhitched.Afteramoment,hebrokethrough.“Thankyou.Here’syourgrandmother.”
SewaneeheardhimtellBlahhergranddaughterwasonthephone.ThensheheardBlahtellhimshedidn’thaveagranddaughter.ThenHenrysaid,“Swan,Mom,Sewanee.”
AndBlahsaid,“Who?”
AndHenrytriedoncemore.“Dollface?”
Shewasabouttotellherdadtoforgetit.ShewouldcallBlahanothertime.Butbeforeshecould,asweetlylyricalvoiceontheotherendofthelinesaid,“Dollface!How’smyfavoritegirl?”
Bytheendofthecall,Sewaneefelt–itastoundedher–content.Sheleanedherheadback,closedhereye,andtookarestorativebreath.Asshebaskedinthenewstateofthings,herphonerang.
“What!”sheshoutedtotheworld,butitwasn’tlistening.Shelookedatthenumber.Ofcourse.Shegrudginglypickeditup.“Hello?”
“Mansehere.Howisshe?”
“Resting.”
“Excellent!Solisten,I’vebeentryingtogetanupdatefromthedoctorbutthat’sbeenanonstarter.Andherphonekeepsgoingtovoicemail.”
“Yeah,Idon’tthinkshe’stakingcalls,Manse.”
“Totally,totally.Butproduction’sgettingantsy.Anyballparkonwhenshe’llbeabletogetbacktoGeorgia,sweetie?”
Sewaneetookamomentbeforeresponding.Shethoughtaboutherself.Aboutherpassionforacting.Abouthowithadalwaysbeenchallengedbytherealitiesofthebusiness.Aboutthevagariesandrejectionsandfrustrations.Abouthowmostofherprodigioustalentwentnottotheactualwork,buttoactingasifshelikedpeoplelikeManse.AboutwhatAdakuhadsaid:howluckySewaneewas.
“Sweetie,youthere?”
She’dwantedtokeeptheangeroutofhervoicebutdecidednowthat,actually,shedidn’t.Hervoice,afterall,washersuperpower.“First,it’sSewanee,notsweetie.Iknow,easymistake.Second,doyouknowwhythishappened?”
Therewasasmallbeat.“Becauseshe’sagladiator!She’sa–”
“You.Youandtheclowncarofassholesaroundherwhopretendtocare.She’llcallyouwhen–”
“Hey,easy,k?JustbecauseAdaku–”
“Don’tinterruptmeorI’llhangup.She’llcallyouwhenshe’sready.Meanwhile,ifproductionisantsy,sobeit.It’samovie.Itdoesn’tmatter.Adakumatters.Andifyou’reantsy,Isuggestyoutakesometimetoreflectonhowyouractionscontributedtothissituation.Forinstance:YoukeeppronouncinghernameAH-duh-koo.It’sah-DAH-koo.You’rehermanager,alltheseotherpeopletaketheircuesfromyou,andifyoucan’teven–”
“Whoa,don’tspinthislikeIdon’tcare,youdon’tknowme–”
“Manse,youinterrupted.Bye.”
Shehungup.Andfeltlikeamilliondollarsbeforetaxesandcommissions.Shestood,stretched,anddecidedshe’dgetherselfamilkshake,too.
SEWANEEWALKEDTHROUGHherfrontdooraroundmidnight,afterhavingbeenkickedoutattheendofvisitinghours,stoppingbySeasonstoretrieveherabandonedcar,andattemptingtosneakintoMark’stoappropriatesomesnacksforthenextmorningonlytohavethemanhimselfbarherexituntilshetoldhimabsolutelyeverything.
SheturnedonthelightandwasgreetedbytheshatteredTea-For-Oneservicestillscatteredacrossthekitchencounterandfloor.
Ah,yes.
Shesweptupallthepieces,thentookashowerandwasfallingintobedwhenherphonerang.Herexhaustiontookabackseattoherhappinessatthenamethatappearedonherscreen.
“LookatmepickingupwhenBrockMcNightcalls.”
Sheheardhishuskychuckle.“Howfarwe’vecome.”
“Good…morning?”Shewasbeyondtheabilitytodotimezonemath.
“Itis.Goodeveningtoyou?”Hesoundedequallyunsure.
“It’sdark,somaybe?Iexistoutsideoftimenow.I’vetranscended…the…thing.”
Helaughed.“How’sitgoingthere?”
Shecaughthimupbriefly,promisedtotellhimmoretomorrow,andsighed.“I’msosorrywedidn’tgetto…youknow.”
“That’llteachyoutoplaygames,Sandy.”
“Lessonlearned.ThatisnothowIwantedourtriptoend.”
“Well,ifyouwanttoyouknow–andhereIthoughtyoudidn’tlikeeuphemisms–I’mcurrentlylookingatflightstoL.A.inacoupleweeks’time.”
TheylockedinadateanditmadeSewaneesohappy,thatdate,soanticipatory,thatshewasn’tsurehowshewouldgetthroughalltheotherdatesbeforeit.“How’sDublin?How’sTom?”sheasked.
“Good.Better.Andhispub’sdoingfantastic.TheladsandIjammedlastnight.”
“That’sgreat.”
“So,listen.Ifoundsomethinghere.”
“Okay?”Hertonetookasharpleftintotentative.
Hechuckled.“Whydoyoualwaysexpecttheworst?”
Shehuffed.“Haveyoumetme?”
Hechuckledagain.“So,thisis…well,you’lldecidewhatitis.It’syours.”
“Again,okay?”
“TomhadaboxofJune’soldbooks.Earlyones,outofprintnow.Noideaifanyofthemholdup,butIwasthinking…yousaidtheotherdayyoumightwanttodomoreRomanceand,well,noneofthesebookshaveaudioversions.”
“OhmyGod.”
“So,theboxisyours.”
“Oh,Nick,no–”
“Tom’sgotalawyerhere,soI’llgetsomethingdrawnupthatgivesyouthecopyrights.”Thesilencewastoolong.“Youstillthere?”
“Nick.That’s…youcan’t.”
“Ican.Iam.”
“Butit’s–it’stoomuch.AwholeboxofJuneFrenchIP,that’sagoldmineforyou.Ican’t–”
“Youcanandyouwill.Iwantyouto.Please.She’dwantyouto.”
Sewaneefloppedbackonthebed.Whatshecoulddowiththis.Theprojectsshecouldmake,thepeopleshecouldemploy,thepossibilities–
“Theymightbegoodfornothingbutkindling.Accordingtotheflapcopy,oneofthemisaboutavideostoreclerkandapagersalesman.Butyou’llreadthemanddecide.Dowiththemasyouwill.”
Sheswallowed.“Nick?”
“Yeah?”
“I’mhappy.Rightnow.Inthismoment.Inthisveryreallifeofours.”
Hesighed.Sheheardhissmile.“Metoo.”
Shewassohappythatevenaftertheyhungupshecouldn’tstopsmiling.Shehadbeenexhaustedthirtyminutesagoandnowshewaswired.Shewantedtodosomething.Putonsomemusicanddance?Watchanoldmovie?Andthenitcametoher.
Sheknewexactlywhatshewantedtodo.ShehadbeenthinkingaboutdoingiteversinceNickhadmentionedit.
Shewentonlineandfoundherdemoreel.
Justseeingthethumbnailofheroldface…couldshereallydothis?
Shetookabreathandpressedplay.Onceshewaslooking,shecouldn’tstop.Itwasweird.Itwassad.Ithurt.Itwasgreat.
Gluedtothescreen,shecouldnotrecallatimewhensomanyemotionscoloredher,asifshehadall120Crayolacrayonsatherdisposal.Shehadthoughtwatchingthiswouldmakeherfeelsomuchlessofherself,buttheoppositewastrue.
Shehadbeengood.Shebelongedthere.Shewascaptivating.Shehadthoughtitwouldbelikewatchingsomeoneelse.Exceptitwasn’t.Itwas,undeniably,her.Apartofherthathadcomehome.Waswelcomedhome.Apartofherthatwouldlivewithhernow.Apartofhertobeproudof.
Thereelendedandthefeelingthatlingeredwhenalltheothercolorsfadedwascontentment.Similartohowshe’dfeltsweepinguptheTea-For-One:regretfulbutaccepting.
Itwasapastshenolongerwantedback.Itwassimplyapartofherpresentandshewasfreetopursueherfuture.Heartfull,Sewaneepressedplayandwatcheditagain.
Shelovedit.
THREEDAYSLATER,shepickedAdakuupfromthehospitalinagarageunderthebackalleymostpeopledidn’tknowexisted.The“HighRollerExit,”Adakusnarked.They’dwaiteduntil1A.M.,butithadn’tmadeanydifference.Adakusatinthepassengerseatlookingatherphone.“Myneighborsaysthere’sfiveorsixofthemcampedoutinfrontofmyhouse.”
“Well,”Sewaneesighed.“Youfeelingstrongenoughtotacklesixty-foursteps?”
“Ithoughtyou’dneverask.”
SotheywentbacktoSewanee’s.Andtheyspentthenextfewdaysreading,watchingmovies,andsittingoutsidetalkingandtalkingandtalking.AdakueventuallycalledManseback–he’dnevercalledSewaneeagain–andtoldhimshewasn’treturningtoGeorgia.AndthenshetoldhimthatshewasdonejumpingthroughhoopsfortheAngelaDavisprojectbutthatheshouldfeelfreetodohisjobandgetheranofferforitand,oh,shewantedaproducercreditonthefilm,too.Whenshehungup,theyhigh-fived.
ThenightbeforeAdakuhaddecidedtogohome,Sewaneewenttothestoreandboughtsourcreamandtacoseasoning.Itwascomicallydelicious.
Theysatoutontheporchdippingcarrots,celery,chips,andanythingelsetheyfoundinSewanee’scabinets.Theygame-plannedtheirnextstepsasthesunwentdown.AdakuaskedherwhatshemightdowiththeJuneFrenchbooksandSewaneetoldhersomeinitialthoughtsshe’dhad.“YouknowwhatNicksaidtomeafterwerecordedtogetherinVenice?Hesaid,‘You’readirector.’”
“Really.Whowould’vethunk?I’veonlybeensayingthatforadecade.”
“Youhavenot,”Sewaneesaidlikeathirdgrader.
Adakugaveitrightback.“Have,too!Have,too!”ShedippedacarrotintothebowlofBirdie’sDelightandtosseditintohermouth.“Ievensaiditacoupleweeksago!Whenwedidthatself-tape.”
“Nuh-unh!”
“Yeah-hunh!”SheheldacelerystalkuptoSewanee.“Allseriousness:Canwesellthisshit?Clooneyhastequila;Icouldhavedip.”
“Doyoustillhavetherecipe?”
TheylaughedandSewanee’sphonedinged.ThewayhermouthwentallsmileywhenshecheckeditpromptedAdakutosay,“Letmeguess.”
“Hesentacutofthefinalepisode.”
“Ohh!”Adakuclapped.“Playit!”
“You’renotthebossofme.”
TheabsolutefaceAdakuthrewherhadSewaneeraisingherhandsinlaughingsurrender.Shewentinside,retrievedherBluetoothspeaker,andconnectedherphone.ShesatbackdownnexttoAdaku,rightwhere,threemonthsago,she’dlistenedtoBrock’svoiceforthefirsttime.
“–THISHASBEENCasanova,LLC,episodeeight.WrittenbyJuneFrench.PerformedbySarahWestholmeandBrockMcNight.Thankyouforlistening.”
Adakujumpedtoherfeetandapplauded.
Sewanee’sfacelitup.“Yeah?”
“OhmyGod!Babe,thatwas–whatdidyoudotohim?!Sendittomeimmediately,Igottalistenagain.”Sewaneelaughed.“Athome,bymyself,inthe–”
“Andnow,”Brock’svoicesaidfromthespeaker,“anoriginalsongwrittenandperformedbyNickSullivan.”AdakuandSewanee’smirthfuleyescollided.“It’scalled‘SwanSong.’”
Sewaneegrabbedthephoneandpressedpause.Startled,allplayfulnessgone,shelookedbackupatAdaku.“Youheardthat,too,right?”
“Oh,Iheardit.”Adakucrossedherarms.“Yougonnapressplay,ordoIhaveto?”
Sewaneestilled.She’dknownNickwaswriting,butshehadn’texpectedanythingsosoon.Andsheespeciallyhadn’texpectedtobethesong.
Atthelookonherfriend’sface,Adakuuncrossedherarmsandsteppedgentlyovertoher.“Actually.I’mgoingtoputthekettleon,makeussomemoretea.”ShedroppedahandonSewanee’sshoulder.Squeezed.“Yougoahead.”Shewentinsideandclosedtheslidingdoorfirmlybehindher.
Sewaneesatback,tookabreath,andlookedoutovertherailingatthelastbeadsoflightbeingwashedfromthesky.Shepressedplay.
Aloneguitar.Slow.Rhythmic.Lulling.Likethesilkydriftofagondola.Aneffortlesschordprogression,masterfullyplayed.
Thenavoice.Rich.Caramelized.Thepaceandcadenceofasensuallullaby.Lyrics,poeticyetplain.Astealthhittotheheart.
Forallitssimplicity,itwasdeceptivelydeep,asifshe’dsteppedboldlyintoshallowsandfoundherselfoverherhead.
Evenasitbeckonedherforward,shemissedwhereshe’dbeen.Itwasfarfromover,butittookeveryounceofwillpowertonotstopitandstartover.
ItfeltsoulfullyIrishandyearninglyAmerican.ItfeltlikeNick.
Andhisvoice.Whatdidhemeanheonlysang“abit”?GoodGod.
Thenitchanged.Abuildbegan.Adriving,forcefulpurposeacceleratingtowardsomeetherealsummit.
Thetinglebeganinherscalp.Ittraveleddowntoherjaw.Toherthroat.Anothertinglebeganinhertoesandrosetoherhips,herstomach.Theymetdeepinthehollowofherchest.Theymingledandvibratedtogetherashesangthesong’sfinalnoteandhisvoice,toSewanee,feltlikeacalltoGod.Aprayer.Anoffering.Apromise.
ItfeltlikesomethingtobelieveinCoda
Resolutiondoesn’tmeanahappyending–whichI’vebeenaccusedof.Idon’tthinkIwritehappyendings….Itrynevertoendtheplaywithtwopeopleineachother’sarms–unlessit’samusical.
–NeilSimoninTheParisReview
OfcoursethereshouldbeanHEA.I’msosickofthisquestion.It’saRomance!That’sthedealwemakewithourreaders.It’smisogyny,plainandsimple.Youdon’tseeanyonetellingMysteryreadersthey’resillyandunseriousforwantingtoknowbytheendofthebookwhothemurdererwas.Fuckoff.
–JuneFrenchinCosmopolitanEpilogue
“AStrangerComestoTown”
BLAHBLAHWOULDHAVEAPPROVEDOFTHESERVICE.ITHADBEENelegantandcheekyandatouchtheatrical.Justlikeher.
TheyinterredherashesatHollywoodForeverCemetery,sixweeksaftershedied,andwerecurrentlyhavingagarden-partyreceptionatSeasons.SewaneeknewBlahwouldhavewantedtowaitthatlongtobeputtorestifitmeantmorepeoplewereabletoattend,socialbutterflythatshe’dbeen.
Ithadworked.
MarilynandStuflewinfromthePanamaCanalandwerechattingwithDan,whowashelpingSewaneebartendtheeventandhadjustbroughtthemtwomartinis;Markwasoverbythefood,tellingAliceaboutthecondohe’dfoundinCostaRica;AdakuhadwrappedtheAngelaDavisprojectthepreviousweekandwastalkingwithMitzi–well,listeningtoMitzi–whowasstillgoingstrongandloud;HenrywasonthebenchSewaneehadsatonwithNickallthosemonthsago,conversingwithAmanda.
AdakuleftMitzi(notthatsheseemedtonotice),tookaMallomaroffthemassiveplatter,andcamesidlinguptoSewanee.Shefollowedherfriend’sgazeovertoAmandaandHenryandwhispered,“Ishemakingamove?”
Sewaneeswattedher.
“What,atleastshe’sage-appropriate!Progress!”
SewaneereluctantlylaughedasDancameback,droppedoffhistray,andleftagaintogetmoreice.Thetwowomenquietlyassessedthecrowd.AdakuhookedherarmintoSewanee’sandmurmured,“Shewouldhavelikedthis.”
Sewaneenoddedsoftly.
Adakugaveheraknowingsqueeze.Ithadbeenaroughsixmonthsevenbeforethelasttwo,whichhadbeenhorrible.ButithadalsobeenthemostproductivetimeofSewanee’slife;professionally,personally,emotionally.Shecouldfeeleverything,includinghergrief,settlingnowintoanew,consistentnormal.
“SorryaboutNick,”Adakumurmured
Sewaneehuffedaforlornsigh.“Please,don’tremindme.”
“Yeah,Iwouldn’tbringitup,it’sarealsorespot,”asexyvoicesaid,andtheyturnedtogreetit.
Hewaswearingthesuithe’dbeenwearinginVegasandthevoicethathadmadehimfamous.“Maybehisflightwouldn’thavebeendelayedifhe’dflownintoBurbank,”hecontinued,ashecamearoundtostandinfrontofthebar,“whichsomeonedefinitelytriedtotellhimtodo.”Hebeameddownather.“Whatafart-head.”
Shereachedoverthebarandgrabbedhisface,bringingittoherown.Shekissedhimhalfasardentlyasshewantedtoandthrewherarmsawkwardlyaroundhisneck.Heturnedhislipstoherearandsaid,inhisnormalvoice,“I’msosorry.Howareyouholdingup?”
Sheswallowedandpulledback.Shesmiledathim.“Betternow.”
Witheverythinggoingonineachoftheirlives,theyhadn’tbeentogetherforthepastcoupleofmonths,thoughthey’dspokennearlyeveryday.Insomeways,thedistancehadbroughtthemcloser.Butnowthathewashere,infrontofher,shewantedtoclosethedooroneverythingandeveryoneelseandloseherselfinthem.First,though:“Iseeyoubroughtadate.”Sheturnedherattentiontothedark-hairedmanstandingnexttoNick.“Somethingyouwanttotellus?”
“Aren’tyouthefunnyone?”HewasbacktotheBrockvoice.
Herlaughbrokethroughasshesaid,“Jason,Ipresume?”
Thetwodimplesthatappearedonhisolive-tonedcheekswrenchedanalmostimperceptiblegaspfromAdaku.Wuh-woh.“Sewanee.”Heheldbothhandsouttoheroverthebar.“It’ssogoodtofinallymeetyou.”
Sheclutchedhishandsandsqueezed.“Finallyisright!”Theonetimeshe’dgonetoNewYork,theyhadn’tleftNick’sapartment;alltheirothervisitshadbeeninL.A.becauseshehadn’twantedtoleaveadeterioratingBlah.Bythatpoint,Blah’soriginalprotestationshadbeenforgotten,andSewaneehadbeenabletohavetheendingshe’dwantedwithhergrandmother.“Itwassoniceofyoutocome.”ShereleasedhishandsandpivotedtoAdaku,whoalreadyhadherpalmout,winningsmileattached.“Thisismybestfriend,Adaku.”
“Bestfriendsshouldalwaysmeet,”Jasonsaid,takingherhand.“Apleasure.”
“Always,”sheparroted.SheturnedtoNick,cockedaneyebrow.“Andhellotoyou,Mr.McNight.Nicetohaveyouback.”
“Please.”Hebroughthishandtohischest.“Mr.McNight’smyfather.CallmeStiffy.”HeturnedtoJason,saying,inhisownvoice,“Okay,I’mdone.Neveragain.”
Jasongrinnedeartoear.“Itoldyounottobet.”
Nickturnedbacktothewomen.“WeplayedChoosiesontheplane.Ilost.”
JasonsaidtoAdaku,“WealsolistenedtoSewanee’smostrecentJuneproject,theoneyoustarredin.”Heshookhishead,lookingabitawestruck.“Wonderful.Youwereincredible.”
“Aww,”Adakucooed.“Thankyou.”Shehip-bumpedSewanee.“It’sallherbrilliantdirection.”
Sewaneehadn’thadachanceyettotellNickabouttheBroadwayproducerwhohadreachedouttoAdaku’speopleaboutdoingastagedreading/workshopoftheproject.She’dgivehimthenewslater.Shehadmanythingstogivehimlater.
Adakuclappedherhandstogether.“SowhatcanIgetyouboth?”Shelookeddownatthebar.“Wehavearumpunchandallthemartiniingredientsavailableforpurchaseinthisentirecity.”Nicksaidhe’dhavesomepunchandSewaneeladledhimacup.
Jasonleanedovertoperusetheoptions.Adakuwatchedhimavidly.“Thepunchlooksgreat,butI’msober,so–”
Sheclappedherhandsagain.“OohIgotyoucovered!”Shebenttoaboxbehindthebar.“Doyoulikegrapefruit?IstartedmakingthisdrinkwhenIwasintrainingforajobIendedupnotdoing,butthedrinkstuck!It’s…”
SewaneewassureAdaku’sstorywasabsolutelyriveting,especiallygiventhewayJasonseemedtobehangingonhereveryword.Butshewasotherwiseengaged.ShewasstaringatNick.Andheather.
Sheslippedoutfrombehindthebar,butjustasshewasabouttostepintoNick’sembrace,StuandMarilyndescendeduponthem,clappingNickonthebackandyankinghimintohugs.Sewanee,impatientlypatient,waitedforwhatfeltlikeaneternity,astheycaughthimuponwhatseemedlikeeveryportofcallthey’dvisitedinthelasteightmonths.ThenStusaid,“Swannerssentusyournewsong!‘June’sBloom,’right?Terrific.Andhey,I’mstillwaitingforthatcalltofillinonkeys.”
“Anytime.”Throughtheirlaugh,NickcaughtStu’seyeandsaidsincerely,“Cheers,mate.”
Stuansweredinkind.“Anytime,Nickster.Anytime.”
“Ithinkit’smyfavoriteone,Nick.Justbeautiful,”Marilynenthused,handsatherheart.“Isitgoingonthealbum?”
Moreeternitypassed.Thiswascruelandunusualpunishment.AfterMarkhadstoppedby,andshe’dintroducedNicktoHenry,andMitzihadhobbledovertoaskhim,yetagain,ifhewassingle,Sewaneemanagedtoextricatehim.Shedraggedhimaroundthesideofthebuilding,tookhisemptycup,setitontheground,andpouncedonhimlikealynx
Afteraminuteoftenderkissesandgentlyrovinghands,heflippedherarounduntilherbackwasagainstthewallandthingsbetweenthem,astheywerewonttodo,turned.
“Iwanttogo,”shebreathed.
“Butwhere?”
Itwasagoodquestion.Forthelastthreemonths,sinceDougCarreyboughtMark’splace,she’dbeenlivinginAdaku’stwo-bedroombungalowwiththethinwalls.ButnowAdakuwasbackfromfilming.ShewasregrettingtheirdecisiontoinviteNickandJasontostaywiththemtherethisweekend.Theyshouldhavegottenahotel.
“Austin?”shesuggested,unseriouslythoughdesperately.
Nickchuckled.“Sixofone.”HeandJasonhadbeenlivingintheirproducer’stinypoolhousewhiletryingtofinishthealbum.
“Iwantspace,”shewhined,againsthislips.“Hey.IjustinheritedsomegrazinglandinTennessee.”
“Well,maybethat’swhereweshouldmoooooooove.”
Shelaughedfullyintohismouth.“Butthatdoesn’thelpusrightnow.”
“True.Backtotheproblemathand.”
Shesmirked.“Theproblemathand.YouknowhowIfeelabouteuphemisms.”
Nickbroughthishandupbetweenthem.Theonewiththeringonhismiddlefinger.“Whosaysitwasaeuphemism?”Then,nottakinghiseyesoffher,hegavetheridgeoftheringafamiliarlick.
Sewanee’seyebulged.“Nick!No!”Shelookedfranticallyaround.Theywereliterallybesideadumpster.Inthealleyofanoldfolks’home.
Hedidn’tsayaword.Hekepthisgazeonher,asheslidtheringoffhisfingerandreacheddown–
“Areyouinsane?!”
–Andgentlyliftedherlefthand.Itfloatedup,suspendedbetweenthem.Heslippedhisringontoherfourthfinger.
Sewanee’smouthopened,butnothingcameout.
“Iloveyou,”hesaid.“Sposami.”
Hermouthstayedopen.
Eventually,hecontinued.“That’syourcue.”
Sewaneeclosedhermouth,swallowed.“Iloveyou.Iwouldlovetomarryyou.”
Nickknewthenextwordalltoowell.“But?”
“But.You’reseriouslyproposingtomenow?”
“AllgoodRomancenovelsendwithaproposal.”
“ButatBlah’sfuneral?”
“Canyouthinkofabetterwaytohonoryourgran?”
“I…you…”Sewaneehuffedalaugh,droppedherheadtohischest,tookabreath.Shelookedup,tearsoflaughterturningtosomuchmore.“Yes.”
Thereliefinhiseyes.“Yes?”Howcouldhehavedoubtedheranswer?
Sewaneegrabbedhisfaceandbeamed.“Yes.”
Theykissed,andsometimelaterNickpulledback,lookingserious.“HowdoIbreakittoMitzi?”
“Ithinkyou’regood,IsawherhittingonJason.”
TheykissedsomemoreandthenNickpulledawayagain.“Hey.Youknowwherewecouldgo?”
“Where?”
Shesawtheanswerinthesparkleofhiseyes.Likeneonandsnow.
LasVegas.
Sheintertwinedtheirfingers.“Iknowagreatbar.”
“Orwecouldfindthenearestchapelasyou’reobviouslymadforme.”
Herheartswitchedplaceswithherstomach.“Chapel?”
Nickgrinned.“Wemightneedsomewitnesses.”
Atthatmoment,Adaku’ssignatureguffawricochetedaroundthebuildingandechoedoffthedumpster,makingthembothlaugh.“Ithinkweknowwherewecanfindthem.”
Nickdraggedherevenclosertohim.Giddy,hebrushedherhairback,gazeddownatherface,searchingforanythingthatwasn’treal.Hewouldn’tfindit.“Arewereallydoingthis?”
She’daskedhimthesamequestioninatextmessageonce,whatfeltlikealifetimeago.
Sheansweredthesamewayhehadthen.“We’rereallydoingthis.”
Theykissedoncemore,andwalkedbackoutintothecrowd,totheirpeople,tosharethenews.Toseewhowantedtocontinuethepartyacrossstatelines
Andbytheway,incaseyou’rewondering?Attheendofitall,theylivedhappilyeverafter.
SixYearsAgo
SevenweekshadpassedsinceNickcamehometoPrescott.
Itfeltstrange,especiallynowthatbothofthemwerebackinthehouse,Jasonfreshfromrehab,lookinglikeanalleycatsomeonehadputabowon.Havingthembackmadehermissthemmorethanwhenthey’dbeenaway.Becauseshedidn’tknowthesenewversionsofthem.Thesemen.
Shesatdownatherdesktowritethee-mailandrecalledhowmuchshe’dfoughtwiththosetwomessy,boisterous,stubbornhighschoolers.Howshe’dendured–notgracefully–hearingthesameclunkychordprogressionoverandoverfromthegarage.Howshe’ddoneherbesttotoleratethehoursofbasketballinthedrivewaywhileshetriedtowrite.She’dneverrealizedhowmuchithadmeanttoheruntilitwasgone.Untilitwasquiet.
Shewantedtheirnoiseagain.Shewantedbothboystoreclaimthatspiritthey’doncestruggledtohushwhenevershe’dwalkedintothekitchen.Aspiritthatnowseemedpermanentlydamaged.Likeherbrotherwhenhe’dreturnedfromVietnam,lethargicallydragginghimselfaroundwithwoundedstoicism.Untilheleftagain.Permanently.
Sometimesshe’dcatchherselfgazingatNick,lookingforthegreasy-hairedadolescenthappilydryingglassesbehindthebarinTom’spub.Lookingforthelittleboywhosegrinwassomuchlikeherlittlesister’sthatattimesshehadtoturnaway.ButallthoseNickshaddisappeared.
She’dneverbeengoodatmotherlyconcern.Herbiggestpersonalfailing–asNickhimselfhadonceastutelyandangrilypointedout–wasthatshesavedallheremotionalinvestmentforhercharacters.Intruth,shewantedanotherchance.Tostartovercompletely.Tohavethesocialworkersethimdownagainonherdoorstep,himandhisrattyEeyore.
Afoolishthought,butonethattookherbacktomemoriesoftheprecociousyoungboywho,afewyearsafterhisarrival,beganendlesslyasking“why”andtoherfrustratedattemptstoanswerhim.Tomakehimunderstandwhatthehelllifewasallabout.Whyshewashismothernow.Whyhersisterhaddiedandwhyshehadmadethechoicesthatledtothatworstpossibleoutcomeforhim.Whylifehappenedandwhyyousimplyhadtolivewithit.Whytherewerenodo-overs.Whywe’dlovetogobackandchangethingsifwecould,butwecouldn’t.
Wedidn’tgettolivemultiplelivesandthenchoosetheonewewantedattheend.Sorry.
Hisseven-year-oldanswertoallofthis,staringherstraightintheface,inallseriousness,hadbeen,“ThenIbetterdoeverythingrightthefirsttime.”
She’dsenthimonafool’serrand.
Andnowlookathim.
Sheknewtherewasnogoingbackforasecondchance,butworstofall,therewasnogoingforwardforone,either.Nickhadstoppedaskingherwhylongago;infact,he’dstoppedlisteningtoheraltogether.
Soshewrote.
Itwastheonlythingsheknewhowtodo.
To:Westholme,Sarah
From:JFAdmin
Date:April23,11:51PM
Subject:Forwantofacatchiersubjectline:HELP
Hello,mydear,
Ihopethisemailfindsyouwell.Hell,Ihopethisemailfindsyou.It’sbeenalmostayearsincewelastwrote,sinceyouretiredSarahWestholme,andI–forthelifeofme–can’trecallyourrealname.PerhapsIneverknewit?Thisismyonlywayofmakingcontact,soIdohopeitreachesyou.
I’llgetstraighttoit(youcertainlyknowbynowthat’smyway):Ihavearequest.Moretothepoint,aratherembarrassingrequest.
Iwillputyouimmediatelyatease,thisisn’tasolicitation.(ThoughyouknowallyouhavetodoissaythewordandI’llgiveyouasmuchworkasyouwant.)No,I’mafraidthisisapersonalmatter.
Ihaveanephew.Iwasgiventhechoreofraisinghim.Iusetheword“chore”becauseIhaveneverbeengoodattakingcareofanyoneotherthanmyself.AsadfactInowlivewith.
He’sagoodman(forwhichItakenocredit).Hehasfoundhimselfkneedintheballsbylife;repeatedlyandrecently.TherearemenIhaveknownwhodeservethat.Heisnotoneofthem.
Youoncesharedwithme,quiteearlyon,yourownhorriblecircumstance.Hisreturnhomehasbroughtyouraccidenttotheforefrontofmymind.Didyoufindyourwayback?Areyouatpeacewithit?Haveyouacceptedit?Doyoufeelwholeagain?Itrulyhopeso,andifso,Imustknowhow.Hemustknowhow.
Nowcomestheembarrassingrequest:mayIputyouintouchwithhim?Ithinkitwouldhelp.Him.You?Pleaseunderstand,I’mnotmatchmakinghere.Callitwriter’sintuition.Hell,callitwhateveryouwant,rollyoureyesatmymeddling,bothofyou,Idon’tcare,solongasyouconnectwithhim.
Completelyofftopic,hemightmakeagoodnarrator.Hehasanamusingvoicehedoesinjestwhichifheevertookhalf-seriouslycouldbequitegood.Butthat’snotmypurposeinwritingnorshouldyouconsideritrelevant.Perhapsjustaconversationstarter?
Isavegrovelingformybooks,butshortofthat:Pleasetalktohim.Listentohim.I’vefailedatbothandhereweare.
Irealizeyoumayneverseethis.IfIdon’thearbackfromyou,I’llfindanotherway.
Ciao,
JuneAcknowledgments
FIRST,THANKYOUTOTHEINHABITANTSOFMYAUDIOBOOKPROFESSION.Thestorytellers.Thestorykeepers.Themadmenandfirewomen.IbarelyspokeaboutthisbookwhileIwaswritingit,butsomeofyouwerekeytothejourneyforvariousreasons:WillDamron,AbbyWest,AndiArndt,ErinMallon,AmyLandon,EdoardoBallerini,SebastianYork,andSarahMollo-Christensen.
Inmylastacknowledgments,Iskippedmyteachersforthesakeoflength.Inthisone,Iwanttofeaturethemforthesakeofrightness.FrommyfabulouselementaryteacherstoMrs.Dewey,whofirstignitedmyloveofreading.ToCarylPine-CrasnickandBarbara“Buzzy”Gogny,mystudioteachers.Buzzela,youmademethinkIcouldwrite,andcomingfromawomanwhowasalsoawriter,man,didthatmeansomething.
Incollege,MaryEllenBertoliniinformedmeIwasgoingtobeanEnglishmajor,whichwasveryhelpful,andthenletmetutorherJaneAustenclasses.ToPaulMonod,forsuggestingIapplytoOxfordandmakingBritishHistorysoentertainingIdidn’tbegrudgean8A.M.Mondaymorningclass.Tomyotherprofessors,includingbutnotlimitedto:JohnBertolini,LarryYarborough,TeoRuiz,EricJager(technicallynevermyprofessor,butitfeelsasifyouwere),StephenGill,andPeterMcCullough.ToJeffDunhamfornotflunkingmeinPhysicsforPoetswhenyouabsolutelyshouldhave;IenjoyedourchatsaboutJaneAusten.
Tomycreativewritingteachersovertheyears,invarioussettings,butespecially:RobCohen,SummerBlock,ChrisNoxon,LauravandenBerg,AntonioRuiz-Camacho,MonaSimpson,DonMitchell,andmyfellowstudentsintheirworkshops,becausethat’showworkshopswork.Andfromthoseworkshops,I’dliketosingleoutBriCavallaro,who–adecadeandahalflater–notonlywritesfantasticbooksformetonarrate,butgavemeearlyconsultonthepracticalitiesofSewanee’sdisability.Finally,mostly,toBarbaraGanley,whotaughttirelesslyatacollegethatdidn’tdeserveher(there,Isaidit)andwhosewisdom,encouragement,advice,andsensibilitiesIthinkabout–noexaggeration–daily.YoutaughtmehowtoReadLikeaWriterandthat,morethananythingelse,hasgivenmenotonebuttwocareers.
Teachingdoesn’tstopupongraduation.Icontinuetolearnfromotherauthors,thoseIrecordforaswellasfriendsI’vemetalongtheway.Toomanytonamehere,butparticularly:CatherineMcKenzie,ThereseWalsh,AllisonWinnScotch,EmilyHenry,BenjaminPercy,PhilipDeanWalker,AmySpalding,KosokoJackson,TheaHarrison,and,ofcourse,LindaHolmes,who–ofallcoincidences–alsowroteaNickandaJuneintohersophomorenovel.Andaspecialthankstothoseauthorswho,forthisspecificbook,gavetheirtimetoanearlyread:AllieLarkin,MalcolmBrooks,AndreaDunlop,RobinneLee,andTaylorJenkinsReid,QueenofActuallyEverything.
ManythankstoSarahMacLeanandJenProkopfortheirfabulouspodcast,FatedMates,whichhelpedmegetuptospeedonwhatI’dmissedinRomancesinceI’dstoppedrecordingit.
Tomyagent,AbbyKoons:westartedworkingtogetherwhenIhadnothingtoshowyouand,whenIfinallydid,itwasatthebeginningofaglobalpandemicandyet…itallworked.Sometimesyoujustknow,Iguess.ToAlexGreene,whoseeditorialeyeisjustaskeenasherlegalone.TotherestofthePark&Fineteam,butespecially:EmilySweet,AndreaMai,AnnaPetkovich,andKatToolan.Andtoourco-agents,especiallyAnoukhFoerg.And,forthatmatter,tothelovelypeopleatPenguinVerlagforyourfaithandsupport.
TotheHarperCollins/WilliamMorrow/Avonteam:LisaNicholas,BrittaniDiMare,RobinBarletta,JuliePaulauski,FrancieCrawford,ElsieLyons,andNathanBurton.EspeciallytoLiateStehlikatthebeginningandtoErikaTsangattheend…*prayerhands*.And,mostly,toElleKeck:Ididn’twanttodothisbookwithoutyou.YourDNAisinitsmarrowandI’msogladwegottodoittogether.
Onthepersonalsideofthings:
Tenyearsago,Tim,Dana,Jeff,Pam,andLaurawereallthereformesoIcouldbethereformygrandfather;andMarvin,Jolie,andChriswerethereformygrandfatherwhenIcouldn’tbe.ToeveryoneathisassistedlivingfacilityandSerenityHospice,particularlyMelinda,reverendandall-aroundGodsend.
KarenGangforansweringmyquestionsabouteldercare,notonlybackwhenitbenefitedmyrealgrandparents,butforthisfictionalone,too.AndtoElenaHecht,forhavingsuchawonderfulmotherinthefirstplace.
ToLauraGrafton,whobeganmyaudiobookjourney;Icouldneverhaveforeseenwhereitwouldlead.AndtoEllenSteansforalsohavingsuchawonderfulmotherinthefirstplace.
ToAndreaKaufmanforgivingmetheGREATnewsaboutMerriam-Websteraddingasecondpronunciationforareole.
TomyAudmfamilyforunderstandingIhadtogowritethisbook.TothespiritofChristianBrink:ItoldyouthisstorywasaCyranoretelling,because,atthetime,itwas.Itdevastatesandangersmealloveragainthatyou’renotheretotellme,overginandkaraoke,howtheCyranoversionwouldhavebeenbetter.
Tomyactualfamily.ParticularlyMomandKenfortheirZeninthefaceofmy…whatevertheoppositeisofZen.Mom,Imissedyourhugssomuchthoseeighteenmonthsapandemickeptusapart.ToGramps:itwasanhonortoescortyoupasttheveil.ToDad:tenyearslaterandI’mstillpissedyou’renotheretoseeallofthisandIguessatthispointIalwayswillbe.
Tomyfriendsforputtingupwithmydisappearingacts.ParticularlySarah,forlettingmenotonlystealyournameforthisbook(and,Ijustrealized,yourdog’s!)butalsoyourhabitofwatchinggolfforbackgroundnoise.IonlywishIcouldmakeNickrealforyou.
AndtomyNick:myGeof.Thereasonanyofthisworks.FortakingcareofeverythingsoIcanpursueanything.Formakingourlifesobeautiful,socomplete.Asyousay,enoughisalwaysenough.Forfeedingme,ineveryway:withyourloveandchampioning,withyourfreakishtalentandearnedinsight,withyourcomicgenius(onandoffthepage),and,literally,withyourcooking.Youknowhowfineyouaretome?P.S.Insights,Interviews&More…*
AbouttheAuthor
MeetJuliaWhelan
AbouttheBook
OnAutobiography
ReadingGroupGuideAbouttheAuthorMeetJuliaWhelan
JULIAWHELANisascreenwriter,lifelongactor,andaward-winningaudiobooknarratorofoverfivehundredtitles.Herperformanceofherowndebutnovel,theinternationallybestsellingMyOxfordYear,garneredaSocietyofVoiceArtsAward.WhelanisalsoaGrammy-nominatedaudiobookdirector,aformerwritingtutor,ahalf-decentamateurbaker,andacertifiedteasommelier.Discovergreatauthors,exclusiveoffers,andmoreathc.comAbouttheBookOnAutobiography
Here’swhatI’velearned:Nomatterhowmanytimesyouexplainthatyourbookisn’tautobiographical,noonereallybelievesyou.
WithMyOxfordYear,thefirst-personpossessiveinthetitledidn’thelp.NordidthefactthatIhadspentayearatOxford.Thedefaultassumption,I’vediscovered,isthatit’samemoir.I’veevenhadfriendswhohaven’tyetreaditsaytome,yearsafterthebookcameout,“Wait,it’sfiction?”
WithThankYouforListening,I’vealreadyacceptedthatexplainingthestorytopeoplewillalsorequireexplaininghowit’snotmystory,andadmittedly,atfirstglance,theredoesn’tseemtobemuchdaylightbetweenmyselfandmymaincharacter:Iusedtobeanon-cameraactress;Iamnowanaudiobooknarrator;IoncerecordedalotofRomance,underapseudonym,whichIdid—inpart—tohelppayforagrandparent’scare.
Ialsohaveahunchthatmanydie-hardaudiobookfanswilltrytotakemyfictionalcharactersandgraftrealnarratorsontothem(especiallyBrock).Iwillnipthisinthebud:Ispecifically,intentionally,mindfullydidnotwritemycolleagues.Eachcharacter,fromAlicetoMarktotheengineers,are,ifanything,pastichesofourindustry’s“types,”orinthecaseofRonStudmanandothers,wholeclothinventions.IlearnedthislessonwithMyOxfordYear.WhenmyBritishfriendsknewIwaswritingthestoryandaskedme—halfexcitement,halfdread—iftheywereinit,Iwasabletotruthfullysayno,anditwassucharelief.
Iwouldalsocaution:JustasMyOxfordYearwasnotmyOxfordyear,noranyoneelse’sforthatmatter,thisglimpseintoaudiobooksisnotthewholepicture;it’snotevenaviewfrom“thenarrator’sperspective.”Itisonenarrator’sperspective,filteredthroughtheself-selectiveandself-servinglensoffiction.
Intruth,themostautobiographicalpartofthenovelisalsothemostuniversal.Likesomanyothers,Ihadabelovedgrandparentwhosufferedfromdementia.Byfar,themostreal-lifemomentinthewholebookiswhenBlahBlahtellsSewaneewhatitfeelsliketoloseherbearingsinreality.Iwasgiftedthatexchangefrommygrandfather,afterhecalledmeat4A.M.fromhisroominanassistedlivingfacilitytellingmehewasataconferenceatthebeachwaitingformyfather(who’dbeendeadforthreeyears)topickhimup.Sixhourslater,hewasclearheadedenoughtotellmewhatI’venowtoldyou(thoughIchangedtheparticularexamplestobettersuitBlah’sbackstory).
ButIamnotSewanee.Sheisnotme.Because,whilethebiographiesmightlooksimilar,there’sonemajoralteration(besidesamissingeye),which,toquoteFrost,“madeallthedifference.”
Whenwespeakofautobiography—or,really,autofiction—itseemstomethere’smorenuanceintheconceptthanweacknowledge.Afterall,whatdefinesaperson?Isitwhathappenstothem?Orisitwhotheyare?Writersareencouragedto“writewhatyouknow,”but“whatyouknow”canmeananything.Aprofession,sure.Acharacter,ofcourse.Asetting,obviously.Butitcanalsojustmean…anemotion.Afeeling.Aconviction.
Theideaofwritingarom-comsetintheRomanceaudiobookworldcametometenyearsago,whenIwasknee-deepintheRomanceaudiobookworld.ItcamewhenIwasdoingadualnarrationwithanarratorwho’slikealittlebrothertome,andthee-mailsweweresendingbackandforth,thephonecalls—areyouaddingmoanstothesexscenes?Justhowgrowlyareyoumakinghisvoice?—were,objectively,hilarious.
It’saweirdjob.There’snowayaroundit.Anditseemedlikeperfectfodderforsomething.
Butwhat?
Overtheyears,thisstorylivedasascreenplay.Itlived,inmyhead,foratime,asastagedone-womanshow.WhenIfirstbeganconceivingofitasabook,IthoughtNickmightbeanauthor,writingundertheJuneFrenchpenname,whofallsinlovewithhisaudiobooknarrator,who,ofcourse,doesn’tknowhistrueidentity.Thatwouldhaveworked.Butasaudiobooks,andbyextensionnarrators,becamemorepopular,IwitnessedthefandomthatgrewuparoundRomanceaudio’sbiggestmalestarsandIknewIwantedtowriteaboutthat.
Inthesummerof2017,whenI’dturnedinthefinaldraftofMyOxfordYearandpeoplewereaskingwhatIwasworkingonnext,thisideawasleadingthepack,butIhadtwoproblems.Ididn’tknowifpeoplecaredenoughaboutaudiobookstocareaboutthisbookandIdidn’tknowwhomymaincharacterwas.
ThenaudiobooksexplodedinpopularityandIfeltconfidentthatmostpeoplehadatleastheardofaudiobooks,evenifthey’dneverbeforethoughtaboutthenarratorsbehindthem.
Butmymaincharacterwasstillaquestion.
Iwas,frankly,intimidatedbythatquestion.BecauseIknew,whoeverIwrote,peoplewouldassumeshewasme.
SohowwouldIdifferentiateher?
Tostart,Iaskedmyselfwhyshewasnarrating.Ifshewerehappynarrating,asIwas,ifshelovedherlife,asIdid,wherewouldtheconflictcomefrom?Many(probablymost)narratorsareactors,somaybeshewasjustbidinghertime,waitingforthenexton-cameraortheatergig?Butthatfeltunsatisfactory.Iwantedtogivetheprofessional,working-class,yeomannarratortheirdue.It’sajob—askill,acraft—initsownright,anditdoesn’tgetenoughattentionasitis.
Andthen,MeToohappened.
Ididn’twanttowriteaMeToobook;thisisn’taMeToobook,don’tworry,youdidn’tmisssomething.Butattheendof2017,theentertainmentindustrythatIhadgrownupinwasrockedbyscandal.Everythingwe’dalwayswhisperedwasfinallybeingshoutedanditseemed—shockingly—thatpeoplemightactuallybeheldaccountable.Anoutcomethat,truthfully,hadneveroccurredtomeasapossibility.Itwasatimeofreflectionforme,andtherealizationthathadmewalkingaroundformostofthewinterof2017-18asonebigballofragewashowlittlecontrolthebusinessofactingaffordsandhowthatopensthedoortopredation.Asanactor,youcan’tcontrolwhenyouworkorwithwhomorinwhichrole.Youcan’tcontrolwhentheopportunityarisesorhowit’shandledintheexecution.There’saprettyfamoussaying:sometimestheonlypoweranactorhasissayingno.
Butwhoeversaysno?Tothepotentialmoney?Fame?Relevance?Tothejoyandsatisfactionofgettingtodowhatyoulove?
Well.Idid.IdecidedaroundthattimethatIdidn’twanttoactonthebusiness’stermsanymore.Thatanyfunandfulfillmentitmightpossiblybringwasn’tworththefrustrationsanddehumanizationitreliablybrought.Isupposeit’slikegettingtothatbreakingpoint,finally,withthatoneboyfriendwhojustwon’tgoaway.Everytimeheleaves,andyouthinkyou’reoverhim,hecomesbackwithnewexcuses,newpromises,andyousay,okay,wellatleasthe’stalkingtohismotheragainorhehasajobthistimeormaybehefinallyseesmyworth.Howmanytimesdoyoulethimcomeback?Inthewakeof2017,I’dreachedmylimit.MylifewassomuchbetterwithoutHollywoodinit.
Butitwasmychoicetowalkaway.
Whatifithadn’tbeen?
Whatif“no”hadbeensaidforme?
WhatifthemaincharacterI’dbeenseekinghadbeenkickedunceremoniouslyoutofthepursuitofherdream,againstherwill,andthatwaswhyshewasnarrating?
I’dalreadywrittenabookaboutchoosingtowalkawayfromanolddreamandtowardanewone.
Thistime,Iwantedtowriteabookaboutacceptingtheabsenceofthatchoice.Nothingtoovercome,nothingtobecorrected…justsomethingtoaccept.
Itoccurredtome,then,thatIhadexploredthisterritoryoncebefore,albeitnascently.
BeforeMyOxfordYear,IhadbeenworkingonaYAnovelaboutaseventeen-year-oldgirlgrowingupinLosAngeles,thedaughterofacelebritypublicist.Aprettygirl,anot-terribly-ambitiousgirl,agirlforwhomdoorsopenedsimplybecauseshewasprettyandfame-adjacent.Andoneday,thisgirlskippedschoolandwentskydivingwithherfriendandalmostdied.Butshedidn’t.Shesurvived,withhalfherface.
Herjourneywasacceptingthatwhileshemayatfirstfeellikeanuglyduckling,shewasactuallyaSwan.
So,Ifinallyhadmymaincharacterand,toborrowalinefromher,Ihadher“why.”
Finally,Iwasreadytowrite.
Butfirst…
IhadtopromoteMyOxfordYear.
Andattendtomydayjobofrecordingotherpeople’sbooks.
AndthenIgotajobofferatanaudio-basedtechstart-upIcouldn’trefuse.
Andthen,afterbuildingthecompanytoaplacewhereIwasabletostepback,Ifinally,finally,satdowntowritethreechaptersandasynopsis.
AndthenIflewtoNewYorkandmetwithmyagenttodiscussthepages.
AndthatmeetingwasonMarch2,2020.
Thefactthatthisbookaboutacceptingallthethingswecan’tchangewaswrittenduringtheturmoilandupheavalof2020/2021seemsfitting.
Itwastenyearsinthemaking.
Itwasmypandemicbaby.
Itwasmyrefugefromthemadness.
JustwhenIwouldbegintothinktherewasnoempathyorlaughterorromanceleftintheworld,I’dopenmycomputerandtherewereSwanandNick,waitingformetogetcracking.Empathizing.Laughing.Romancing.
Anditbecameautobiographicalinasensefardeeperthanoccupationorhistoryorfamily.ItbecametheembodimentofallthehopeforthefutureIwantedtohave,butoftenfoundIcouldn’tmuster.Justlikemymaincharacters.Intothem,Iwrotemyfearsaswellastheantidotetothosefears:theurgingtotaketherisk.Totrustintheoutcome,anoutcomethat,whateveritmaybe,wouldatleastbetheresultofactioninsteadofinaction.Thatseemedworthwritingaboutinthesetimes.Itseemed,asSewaneeobservesattheendaboutNick’svoice,somethingtobelievein.
Which,Isuppose,istheveryessenceofRomancenovels.ReadingGroupGuide
Throughoutthestory,Sewaneeworkstowardacceptingandembracingallthatlifehasgiven,andtakenaway,fromher.Whatdoyouthinktheturningpointwasforhertoactuallyacceptthewayherlifehadchanged?Howdoyouthinkthefuturewillfareforhernowthatshe’snolongerlivingingriefforheroldself?
There’salotofdiscussionabouthappilyeverafters.Romancehasthem,butsodomysteriesandthrillers(thebadguyiscaughtbythegoodguy).Whydoyouthinktheyareimportanttosomuchoffiction?
SewaneeandNickbothhavehugefans.Doyoufollowanyaudiobooknarratorsorpodcasts?Whydoyouthinkpeoplecanconnectsomuchtojustavoice?Furthermore,howdoyouthinkthismightchangeifaudiobooksaresyntheticallynarratedbyAIinthefuture?
Areyouanaudiobooklistener?Doyouthinkit’sadifferentexperiencethanreading?
WhatdidyouthinkaboutJune’slastletter?DoyouthinkSewaneeandNickweremeanttobeordoyouthinktheywereluckytofindeachother?
Speakingofmeanttobe,doyoufindthatAdaku’sperceptionoflife—thateverythinghappensforareason—istrue?OrisSewanee’sbeliefthateverythingjusthappensmoreaccurate?
WeseemanydifferentsidesofHollywoodinthisbook—fromSewanee,Adaku,andBlahBlah.DidanyoftheirstorieschallengeyourconceptionofHollywood?
SewaneelovesherbestfriendandisgenuinelyhappyforAdaku’ssuccess,butthereisanadmittedundercurrentofjealousy.Ifyoufeel“lessthan”someoneelse,doyouthinkyouradmirationforthemistrulyhonest,orisitonlymaskingenvy,resentment,andjealousy?
SewaneeandNickfallforeachotherintwoverydifferentways.Doyouthinkit’spossibletofallinlovewithapersonwithouteverseeingthemormeetingfacetoface?
IfBrockhadn’tturnedouttobeNick,andSewaneehadfoundherselfinalovetriangle,whodoyouthinkshewouldhavechosen?Whowouldyouhavechosen?
MarilynandStufoundeachotherlaterinlife,butMarilynassuresSewaneethatsheandHenry“hadagoodlifetogether,”thatasdifficultashecouldbe,“lifeisneveronething.”Doyouthinkit’spossibletohavean“unhappy”endingwithsomeoneandstillfindthelifeyousharedtohavebeenmeaningful?PraiseforThankYouforListening
“MixJuliaWhelan’sstorytellingabilityandsmartbanterwithacynicalromanceaudiobooknarratorwhowon’ttrustahappilyeverafterandwhatdoyouget?Puremagic.”
–JodiPicoult,NewYorkTimesbestsellingauthorofWishYouWereHere
“Afun–andsometimes–steamyglimpseintotheworldofaudiobooknarrationfromthequeenofthemedium.”
–CatherineMcKenzie,USATodaybestsellingauthorofSpinandHidden
“Anabsolutelyexquisitestorythatmademelaughoutloud,weeponmultipleoccasions,andstareoffintotheyonderwonderinghowJuliaWhelan’sfabulousmindworks….God,whatanelectricread!”
–RobinneLee,authorofTheIdeaofYou
“ThankYouforListeningisanovelofgreatwisdomanddepth,andit’salsosparkling,sexy,andfun.Weareluckyreaderstohavethisbook.”
–AllisonLarkin,authorofThePeopleWeKeep
“Withpitch-perfectcomedictimingandrazor-sharpprose,JuliaWhelanhasonceagainremindedusofherskillsasanauthor….Trustme,you’llthankyourselfforreadingthisbook.”
–KosokoJackson,authorofI’mSo(Not)OverYou
“Wickedlyfunny,tearfullypoignant,hopelesslyromantic,wittyandsexyandimportant….JuliaWhelanisatruetalentandThankYouforListeningisutterlyunforgettable.Amodernclassic.”
–J.T.Ellison,NewYorkTimesbestsellingauthorofHerDarkLies
“ThankYouforListeningisadelightfromstarttofinish.JuliaWhelantakesreadersbehindthescenesoftheaudiobookworldinthisstoryofsecondactsandsecondchancesthat’sfullofwit,heart,andhumor.”
–AndreaDunlop,authorofWeCameHeretoForgetAlsobyJuliaWhelan
MyOxfordYearCopyright
Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Referencestorealpeople,events,establishments,organizations,orlocalesareintendedonlytoprovideasenseofauthenticity,andareusedfictitiously.Allothercharacters,andallincidentsanddialogue,aredrawnfromtheauthor’simaginationandarenottobeconstruedasreal.
P.S.?isatrademarkofHarperCollinsPublishers.
THANKYOUFORLISTENING.Copyright?2022byFive/TwelveProductions.AllrightsreservedunderInternationalandPan-AmericanCopyrightConventions.Bypaymentoftherequiredfees,youhavebeengrantedthenonexclusive,nontransferablerighttoaccessandreadthetextofthise-bookon-screen.Nopartofthistextmaybereproduced,transmitted,downloaded,decompiled,reverse-engineered,orstoredinorintroducedintoanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystem,inanyformorbyanymeans,whetherelectronicormechanical,nowknownorhereafterinvented,withouttheexpresswrittenpermissionofHarperCollinse-books.FIRSTEDITION
CoverdesignandillustrationbyNathanBurton