Changed Somehow

by Chloe Flanagan

  Suddenly, she paused and sank onto the sofa. She would expect … Expectation. Maybe that was the key. For the first time since she could remember, she had approached an encounter with her mom with very few expectations.

  Having felt convicted after the previous day’s discoveries, she had decided to try to do something nice for her mom by having dinner ready when she came home. And for once, she hadn’t spent the entire time weighing her mom’s behavior against what she thought it should be or what she wanted it to be. It felt like a small but crucial first step to learning how to accept her mom as she truly was.

  She took a long sip of her coffee and set it down on a coaster on the end table. Wow! Those were some pretty heavy revelations for so early in the morning.

  Returning her attention to the task at hand, she slid off the sofa and resumed her place on the floor next to the pile of boxes. As she did, she noticed a notebook partially sticking out from underneath the end table. She must’ve left it out the day before by mistake.

  The cover read, “Diane Lawson: English Composition.”

  It might be fun to see what high school kids wrote about in her mom’s day. She thumbed through the pages. Most of the writing pertained to required reading assignments. Nothing new there.

  But then she turned to a page with a black and white picture of Natalie Wood attached to it. The accompanying essay was titled, “My Future Life.”

  Her heart ached as she read the first paragraph, in which high school Diane described her aspirations of becoming a successful Hollywood actress.

  Then the second paragraph began, “I suppose at some point I will have to have a husband.”

  Natalie chuckled at the lack of enthusiasm.

  “But I do know,” the essay continued, “that I will have a pretty little baby girl. I want to name her Natalie after my favorite actress.”

  Natalie’s head snapped back. She had been part of her mom’s dreams too?

  A pretty little baby girl. I want to name her Natalie…

  It felt inauthentic, like a glaring anachronism in a historical play.

  Shakily, she closed the notebook, returned it to its box, and shoved the lot away.

  After taking a final gulp to drain her coffee cup, she moved on to the next box. As soon as she opened it, the now familiar smell of musty fabric accosted her senses.

  This time, the culprit was a small stack of baby clothes. There were bonnets, pink and yellow rompers and even a few toddler-sized dresses.

  Beneath the clothing was a shoebox, so she preemptively covered her nose in anticipation of finding an old, mildewy pair of sneakers. To her relief, though, the box was filled with dozens of pictures.

  Although there was little organization, most of them were of her when she was small. She sifted through the photos until one caught her attention. It was an old Polaroid of her mom holding her when she was around one year old.

  It captured her mom’s side profile as she stood holding Natalie against her shoulder with their faces nestled together. Her mom’s eyes were closed in an expression that could only be described as pure joy, as if holding her child was the most wonderful thing in the world.

  After a long time of staring at the image, her eyes finally traveled down to the bottom of the photo, where her mom had written “Dancing cheek to cheek with my girl.”

  The words pulled back the curtain on a long-hidden memory. She was small, wrapped snug and safe in her mom’s arms while her melodic voice hummed, “Cheek to Cheek.”

  That’s right! Her mom used to sing to her and dance her around the room all the time. How could she have forgotten that?

  ◆◆◆

  “It’s a Polaroid,” Betty observed dryly when Natalie showed up at the diner during the lull between the breakfast and lunch rushes and handed her the picture.

  “Yes, I know.”

  Betty put on her glasses to study it closer. “Aw, that’s a great shot.” She returned the picture to Natalie. “What about it?”

  Natalie struggled to verbalize her confusion. “It’s just that Mom looked so … happy.”

  Betty lowered her eyes and her face saddened as she ambled toward one of the counter stools. Sitting down, she patted a seat beside her, and Natalie accepted it. “Your mom was so proud of you when she brought you into the world. Some of the old gargoyles in town were rude and judgmental because she and your dad didn’t get married until just before you were born. But she didn’t mind. It didn’t stop her from taking you with her everywhere and showing you around. Oh, Natalie, she doted on you: talked to you, read to you, everything a perfect little mother would do.”

  “I barely remember,” Natalie admitted. “So what happened?”

  “I think she started to change when your dad left.”

  Natalie chewed on that for a minute. “She was hurt because she loved him so much?”

  It was one of the few times she had ever seen Betty look truly uncomfortable. “I … suppose that was some of it, yes. But there were other things. Not only was there taking care of you, but your grandfather died around the same time too, you know. Before that, his hardware store had been struggling for years. He left Diane his house, but he’d had to refinance it to help his store a few years before that. Diane worked like a dog to keep the house. She was too stubborn to accept help, too.

  “I guess you could say she went into survival mode. All she was able to think about was working and keeping everything running. It sharpened her edges. A lot of other things seemed to fall by the wayside.”

  Betty’s eyes grew wistful. “She used to be soft, perceptive, and funny … she was so funny sometimes. We used to be friends, you know?”

  Natalie blinked. “Really? She barely ever came over here when I was growing up, even when I worked here.”

  “Yeah, our friendship fell by the wayside too.”

  Natalie squeezed Betty’s warm, firm hand. “She told me your idea about the theater. I think that would be amazing. Maybe if she had a project doing something she’s passionate about, she wouldn’t feel like everything is a struggle anymore. Maybe she could relax, even.”

  Betty nodded. “Maybe. Just remember, sweetie, it won’t be a fix-all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, Diane won’t up and retire, take on something new, and suddenly become the mom you want her to be.”

  Natalie looked down at the counter, tracing a crack in the tiled surface with her fingertip. “I understand that, and it’s okay. I just want to see her do something that makes her happy.” Her voice cracked. “I can’t even remember seeing her happy.”

  Betty put an arm around her shoulders. “I can remember. That’s why I want her to do it too.”

  30

  Natalie left Betty’s on her bicycle, pedaling hard enough to make the wheels turn as fast as the wheels in her head.

  Betty’s explanation of what her mom had gone through had helped clarify a lot. She’d known things had been difficult, but she hadn’t realized the extent. One thing was certain, though: deep down, it was love and concern for her that had driven her mom.

  She slowed her pace as she let that realization sink in. Her mom had always worked to take care of her, although Natalie had failed to fully recognize it for years.

  Veering off the well-worn path in the woods near the diner, she brought her bike to a full stop. Maybe that same desire to take care of her was one of the things keeping her mom from jumping off and pursuing a dream of her own. Maybe she was waiting for Natalie to get her life together.

  She leaned on her handlebars and closed her eyes, striving to pray … and to listen. A soft breeze stirred around her, rustling the tree branches and allowing lively beams of sunshine to trickle through. The light seemed to wrap around her, and she embraced it for many long moments.

  At last, her eyes flew open. Her skin was prickling.

  As fast as she could, she pedaled until she reached a clearing where she’d have a cell signal. Then she pulled out her phone and dialed.<
br />
  It rang twice before Marlowe answered with a sharp “What?”

  She took a deep breath and dove in. “Hey, Marlowe, it’s Natalie Rivers.”

  There was a long pause, followed by: “You can’t be serious! Give me one good reason not to hang up on you right now.”

  “Okay, how about the fact that you haven’t done it already?”

  He snorted in response.

  Still not hanging up. That was good. “How are the play preparations going?”

  “If you must know, your understudy just broke her leg. And Linda, the only swing actor who was even remotely prepared enough has come down with shingles, of all things! Basically, the first preview is happening in three days without a lead, and it’s all your fault!”

  “I can do the play, Marlowe.”

  He paused again and muttered angry yet indistinguishable words under his breath. “Okay, fine. I’m desperate enough to have a stuffed ragdoll learn the lines for this preview. But I’ll settle for you.”

  Natalie bit back a laugh. She had to admit, that was a pretty good burn.

  “But you’d better be here tomorrow morning!”

  “I will.”

  “Good.”

  “And Marlowe?”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Whatever. Just don’t make me sorry I answered the phone.” With that, he ended the call.

  ◆◆◆

  Natalie spent the next couple of hours finishing her task of organizing the boxes in her mom’s living room and tidying up the house.

  By the time her mom walked in, the house was in order, and Natalie had her suitcases packed and gathered near the door.

  Her mom entered the living room, looked at the luggage and then at Natalie. “What’s going on?”

  “I got a lead in a play, and I need to be there for rehearsal tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh.” Her mom wrapped her arms around her middle. “That was a short visit.”

  Natalie took a step closer. “I’m sorry about that. But listen, I want you to visit me. My part in this play isn’t exactly secure at the moment. The director hates me, and the whole thing could be a disaster, but if we pull it off and the show keeps running, I’m sending tickets for you and Betty to come to a performance. And who knows? Maybe you’ll get some inspiration for opening the theater.”

  Her mom raised an eyebrow. “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

  Natalie chuckled. “No way!”

  A small smile crossed her face. “Okay.” Then she studied the bags again. “Which train are you taking back to the city?”

  “The 3:40.”

  “I’ll drive you to the station.”

  During the short trip to the station, Natalie answered her mom’s questions about the play and her role. When they arrived, her mom helped her carry her bags up the stairs to the outdoor train platform. They made it just as the train started to pull in.

  Natalie faced her mom. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll call you soon, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She turned to move closer to the train as it slowed to a stop.

  “Natalie!” her mom called out urgently.

  When Natalie turned again, her mom’s forehead crinkled. She opened her mouth, hedged then pressed her lips together. Hurrying forward, she wrapped her arms around Natalie in a hug.

  Natalie froze for a half second then returned the embrace, squeezing her eyes shut. When she pulled back, she said, “Things are going to get better, Mom. I promise.”

  31

  When Natalie returned to the city, she began three days of the most frantic string of dress rehearsals and last minute production preparations she’d ever experienced in her nearly fifteen years of acting.

  It was exhilarating.

  Fortunately, even before she’d walked off the play, she already knew her lines well enough to do them off book, but she still needed to rehearse with the rest of the cast and learn how the scenes were blocked.

  She ran through her scene with Ryan a few times without freezing up, and she was almost certain it played much better too. Marlowe had given little feedback, which meant he either agreed with her or knew he didn’t have time to be too exacting.

  While she may have made it through rehearsals without getting panicky, she wasn’t so fortunate the night of the first performance. As she sat in her dressing room a good fifty minutes before the show, her breathing was shaky and her heart was beating so hard that if it didn’t slow down by the time she took the stage, the entire front row would probably hear it.

  “Okay, calm down, Natalie. It’s only the first preview,” she murmured, trying to take comfort in the fact that this performance would have no critics yet, and they would still have time to make adjustments before opening night in a couple of weeks.

  Of course, she couldn’t really think of it as only a first preview. The previews were often the time when people with families came to the theater for a chance to see a play when tickets were the most affordable. They were also a good time for real enthusiasts to show up. She had met theatergoers who would buy tickets to several previews and opening night just so they could watch how the play changed and evolved in the process. To her, pleasing these groups of patrons was every bit as crucial as impressing the critics.

  Finally, she closed her eyes and bowed her head. Her thoughts turned to the prayer she had seen in Darla’s prayer book only that morning. It was a prayer of self-dedication, for giving everything like thoughts and imagination over to God and asking him to use them for his glory.

  After a moment’s reflection, she whispered, “God, I’m not 100 percent sure what I’m doing here tonight. Betty was right; your love is transforming me. I know it. But you didn’t take away my desire to be here and to keep practicing this craft, so I have to think that maybe you want me to use it somehow. Please guide me to use all of this as you want me to, and help me to live in your love. Amen.”

  Her eyes remained closed, and a strange peace settled around her.

  “Hey, Natalie.” She raised her head and turned toward the open dressing room door, where Ryan was standing. His cheeks reddened. “Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt while you’re preparing.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t really get into character until the half.” Truthfully, this probably would’ve been a good time to give herself more than thirty minutes, but there was no need to be rude. Her lack of foresight wasn’t Ryan’s fault.

  “I wanted to say I’m really glad to be working with you again. And I don’t know what was going on before, but it’s really impressive how you made it back and got ready so fast. You’re one of the best actors I’ve worked with so far and …” His color deepened and he lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry to ramble.”

  She stood up and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He really was a sweet kid. “That’s very kind of you, Ryan. Thank you.”

  He turned to leave, but then did an about-face. “By the way, I didn’t know you were religious.”

  “It’s a fairly recent development,” she admitted.

  “Is that why you came back?”

  “You could say that …”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. I was just interested.”

  “I don’t mind.” She paused, seized by impulsive curiosity. “Do you believe in God, Ryan?”

  “I do, actually.” He chuckled. “Not only that, I think he plays jokes on me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For one thing, my dad is Donny French.”

  Her mouth fell open. “As in, multi-Tony award-winning Donny French?”

  “Yeah. I changed my last name because he and I don’t really get along. When I grew up, I didn’t want anything to do with the crazy lifestyle his career built.”

  “But … you’re an actor.”

  “Right? And there’s one joke. I found out I really enjoy performing.”

  “You have talent, for sure.”

  His face reddened again. “Tha
nks. I knew I had to give it a try. So I auditioned and took whatever parts I could get, but this is the biggest one so far.”

  “In a play about the dysfunctional families of actors.”

  He guffawed. “Exactly! And it’s so true to life. I knew plenty of Liams growing up. This whole thing has forced me to relive memories. It was almost enough to make me quit. But I stuck it out because I realized it was helping me process.”

  “So it was a good joke?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” His face grew thoughtful. “And you know what really convinced me to stay? I think it was our Liam and Marissa scene. There’s hope there, you know? I keep thinking, if I found some of that hope from this side of it…”

  She gestured toward the front of house. “Then maybe someone out there will too?”

  His face lit up. “Maybe so.”

  “Thank you for sharing that with me. It’s kinda given me some perspective too.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen of The Seat Fillers company, this is your half-hour call.”

  “Well, I guess it’s time to get ready, huh, Liam?”

  “After you, Marissa.”

  ◆◆◆

  Natalie waited and held her breath. Was that her pulse pounding in her ears or applause? She swallowed and willed her heartbeat to settle.

  Yes, the audience was definitely applauding as the rest of the cast moved center stage by singles or pairs and took their bows. Ryan went last then turned and swept his arms behind him.

  Natalie glided upstage, and the claps grew louder, with several cheers and whistles added in. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she took one deep bow, then a second.

  Grateful warmth throbbed through her heart as she blew a kiss to the audience.

  Then she held out her hand so her castmates could join her and they could all take their bows together.

  32

  Natalie left the chaotic theater behind and strolled down the street without bothering to consider her direction. There were so many other things to consider, like all the little adjustments that needed to be made before the next performance. But none of that superseded the relief of getting through the first one.