Eliza Starts a Rumor

by Jane L. Rosen

  At that very same moment, as if she’d conjured him, there he was. Mr. Barr. Making his way across the stage with his familiar stride and surprisingly still thick wavy hair.

  Even more surprising was her reaction. Her knees wobbled at the sight of him, just as they had decades before. Her first thought was, This is crazy; her second, I have to get the hell out of here. As she turned to do so, his baritone voice echoed through the auditorium.

  “Hello, hello. Are you here for the volunteer meeting? You’re a few minutes early. I’m setting up the chairs if you want to start volunteering now!” He laughed. His laugh was familiar, too. He had that theatrical tone to everything that came out of his mouth. She approached the stage, so she wouldn’t need to shout. On the way up, butterflies of excitement danced in her belly. What the hell? she thought. I will just sign up for snacks and be on my way.

  He recognized her immediately, shouting, “Amanda Williams?” while springing off the stage to greet her. He threw his arms wide open for what she thought was a setup for a hug but turned out to be a two-handed shoulder embrace—the kind usually followed by the refrain, “My, my, look how you’ve grown!” He still sees me like a kid, she laughed to herself, and at herself. She gave him the once-over right back.

  He was older now, of course, with deep lines shooting out from the corners of his blue eyes and streaks of gray now salting his signature locks. It all worked well—really well. Men have it so easy in the aging department, she thought, suddenly self-conscious. He let go of her shoulders, though she wished his hands had lingered there a bit longer.

  Sign up for the snacks, Amanda, her brain begged her libido.

  “How have you been?” he asked.

  “Good, good, and you?”

  “Still teaching at Hudson,” he answered in a tone that wandered between pride and indignation.

  “That’s just incredible,” Mandy said. “My daughter is Pippa Cole, you cast her as Isabella. Thank you!”

  “Oh, wow! I see the resemblance now. She’s talented and a sweet kid, just like her mom.”

  Amanda laughed to herself—all that flirting she had done, and he never even noticed. Now on the other end of it, with her daughter under his tutelage, she was happy for his obliviousness.

  “I’ve followed your career over the years.”

  She was immediately embarrassed, sure he was going to bring up the infamous shampoo commercial that she’d starred in at the very beginning of her time in Hollywood. It had become a cult classic of sorts. For years she would walk into an audition and the casting people would mock her notorious line, “I can’t see you tonight, Tommy. I’m washing my hair!” By the time SNL did a sketch about it, she was barely castable. If it were now, she would most definitely be a meme. She braced herself for it. He surprised her.

  “I loved what you did in Angelino Heights. It was the first time I had seen one of my protégées on the big screen.”

  “Did” was a bit of a reach, she thought. Amanda’s first movie was a bit part in a Carson Cole film in which she played a waitress standing outside an LA coffee shop. She had to ask for a light for her cigarette without using words. She rehearsed what she considered to be an intimate act between strangers—placing your hand on top of theirs as they direct the flame to yours—over and over again.

  Mr. Barr may have been the only one who remembered her for that, but she certainly remembered it well. It had been a direct result of meeting Carson. She’d been waiting tables at the Polo Lounge, a storied restaurant for Hollywood types. She’d stepped outside for a smoke, a habit she had only taken up for the break it provided. (At the time it seemed like anyone who didn’t smoke didn’t get one.) The charismatic Carson Cole came out, asked her for a light, and said, “I just read a script with this exact scene in it. You’re not an actress, are you?”

  He probably had the scene written in after the fact, but at the time she was obsessed with romantic comedies and thought of it as their fateful, meet-cute moment. He gave her that small part and came to see it filmed. They started dating. During her second film, when Carson noticed the leading man take an interest in her, he made it official. They were married in Vegas that weekend.

  Amanda recognized that it was an unbalanced relationship from the beginning. He was a big Hollywood producer and she was a struggling actress with two bit parts to her credit and one television commercial that did more harm than good. But Carson had a funny side to him that made her laugh, and a sweetness that he seemed to share only with her—until he no longer bothered to.

  “Do you act anymore?” Mr. Barr asked, hopefully.

  She didn’t. Carson felt very strongly that two parents in the business wasn’t good for the kids. She agreed with the decision. Truth was, she didn’t have the backbone for rejection and hated the alternative idea of Carson handing her a career that she didn’t deserve. The fallout from the shampoo commercial had really done a number on her.

  “No, I haven’t acted since Pippa was born,” she answered without further explanation. “But I’m thinking about getting back into it,” she added, surprising herself.

  “I don’t know if you read the volunteer form, but I’m looking for an assistant director. Any interest in getting back, behind the scenes?”

  Interest is not the problem, she thought. She really wanted to say yes. It was just what she needed, being back in the theater, that is, not fulfilling a high school fantasy with her daughter’s teacher.

  “If I remember, we collaborated quite well back in the day—things haven’t changed much since you played Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice,” he added, encouragingly.

  “Pride and Prejudice: The Musical!” she corrected him.

  “Of course.” And with his best attempt at imitating seventeen-year-old Amanda, sang, “Nothing rhymes with Darcy. I wish the British spoke Farsi.”

  Amanda blushed. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “Are you kidding me? You had to know you were one of my favorite students. You were such a good kid.”

  Since it was obvious that her crush had been one-sided, clearly she could control herself and be his assistant. Other parent volunteers began to trickle in, and he amped up his plea. “It would be great if I can start off the meeting announcing my new assistant director. You can’t imagine how many parents falsely think they are qualified for the job. You’d be doing me a big favor.”

  It would be wrong to say no to a favor, thought her brain and her libido.

  “OK. I’m in!”

  He smiled. She melted. They exchanged cell phone numbers, and it was the first time in a very long while that she found herself looking forward to something on her own behalf.

  CHAPTER 25

  Amanda & Eliza

  Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

  Eliza read Mandy’s text and laughed out loud. She loved having Mandy back home. It was as if they had both regressed twenty years on impact.

  What? What? What?

  Why didn’t you tell me that Mr. Barr was still teaching drama at the high school?

  Eliza laughed again.

  Really? I kind of assumed you’d moved on.

  Never!

  Well, now’s your chance. I’m pretty sure he’s divorced.

  Shut up! I’m coming over.

  In what felt like seconds, Mandy was at the door. Eliza eyed her skinny frame. “Do you want a protein shake?”

  “If by protein you mean tequila, then yes.” She followed Eliza to the kitchen while asking, “How do you know that Mr. Barr is divorced?”

  “Do you not remember how small a town this is?”

  Amanda stared out the kitchen window and focused on the willow tree where they had once stashed their first bottle of alcohol—a Concord grape Manischewitz that Eliza had swiped from her grandma’s Passover Seder.

  “I do. This whole day is making me feel like I’ve stepped i
nto a time warp.” She shook her head. “And Mr. Barr still looks amazing. I can’t believe it.”

  “Why can’t you believe it? You still look amazing.”

  She cozied up to the counter like it was her neighborhood barstool to watch the sensation that was Eliza in the kitchen. Always prepared, she pulled limeade and pineapple juice concentrate from her freezer as if tomorrow were Cinco de Mayo and began the show.

  “Please, Eliza. When you look at me, you still see an eighteen-year-old.”

  “What do you see when you look at me?” Eliza asked, not really wanting to hear the answer. She threw an extra shot of tequila in the blender.

  “An eighteen-year-old.”

  “You do know that I have mirrors in this house, right?”

  “Ha, ha. You’re beautiful, Eliza.”

  “It is hard to believe that we’re middle-aged.”

  “We are not middle-aged!” Mandy protested.

  “Do the math, honey. I don’t know how long you’re planning on living, but I am most definitely middle-aged.”

  Mandy wasn’t buying it.

  “Age is just a number.”

  “A statement probably attributable to an underage kid trying to get into a bar.”

  Mandy chuckled. “I guess it doesn’t matter how old Mr. Barr is, then. Not that I have any intention of going down that road.”

  “Mr. Barr was probably just a few years out of college when he started at Hudson Valley. I bet he’s around Carson’s age.”

  “Don’t say Carson.”

  Eliza laughed.

  “You really are handling this all so well, Mandy. You hardly even bring it up.”

  “Please. I’m not handling it at all. I ignore it—though it’s hard. Another woman came forward yesterday followed by another denial by Carson. With each one I feel further implicated for my silence. And confused. If you don’t come forward, you’re weak; if you do, you’re doubted.”

  Eliza understood that. She stood in awe of other women’s bravery and felt wrecked when watching them get shot down. The doubt surrounding so many brave women from the mattress girl at Columbia University to Christine Blasey Ford at the Kavanaugh hearings ran though her mind.

  Amanda must have been thinking similarly. “And even with all this talk, it feels like nothing ever really changes. Remember how we obsessively watched the Anita Hill testimony during senior year?”

  Eliza remembered every second of it. It was during her first bout with agoraphobia. She was glued to the TV. She had no desire to discuss any of this.

  “Not really—so long ago,” she lied.

  “Really? I’m surprised. You cried the whole time. It’s all so upsetting. Thank God for Lexapro!”

  She looked Eliza in the eyes, knowing she had taken an indirect path toward the topic that had been on her mind since their first heart-to-heart.

  “And speaking of antidepressants, Eliza, maybe—”

  Eliza turned on the blender, purposefully drowning out the obvious conclusion to Mandy’s sentence: “maybe you should see a psychiatrist.” She recognized that her problem did not seem to be going away, as it had back in high school. It really was time for professional help, but that would mean telling Luke and probably the kids. She wasn’t ready for that. She dipped two glasses in salt, popped in two paper umbrellas for the full effect, and poured each of them a drink.

  “Cheers,” she said, not meaning it. They toasted and she took a sip for courage.

  “I know it’s time to tell Luke, but I don’t want any of them to see me as broken. I’ve always been the one my family could depend on. They think I’m perfect, that I do everything perfectly. Look at this margarita, for God’s sake. It’s like I work at El Pollo Loco, not that I am el pollo loco!”

  Mandy held it up for inspection. “It is a beautiful margarita.” Mandy kept it raised for her toast. “To us two crazy chickens!”

  As they clinked glasses, neither knew whether to laugh or cry. Mandy took a big sip of her drink and asked, “You know how much I love you, right?”

  “Is that the tequila talking, or are you talking to the tequila?”

  Mandy laughed, harder than she had in a long time.

  “No one in LA makes me laugh like you do.” She reached out her hand and put it on Eliza’s. “We’ll figure this out, Eliza.”

  “We’ll figure out your stuff, too,” Eliza agreed.

  “Please, I can’t even figure out if I should call the drama teacher Dean or Mr. Barr.”

  “His name was Dean? That’s funny for an academic.”

  “Of course. Remember Dean and DeLuca?”

  Amanda remembered it like it was yesterday, while Eliza never seemed very interested in reminiscing. It often made Mandy wonder if her own tendency to live in the past came from her dissatisfaction with her current life, specifically her marriage to Carson. Was she longing for the glory days, like so many unhappy people seemed to do? Was that why she still felt the remnants of her schoolgirl crush on Dean Barr? Eliza had a more contrived crush on the shop teacher, Roy DeLuca, but she didn’t even seem to remember him. The summer before their senior year, the two girls would often take the train into Manhattan and explore different neighborhoods. On one such trip to SoHo, they had wandered into the famous market, Dean & DeLuca, and laughed that it shared a name with the teachers they were infatuated with. They even brought home shopping bags and taped them to their walls next to posters of the Brat Pack and Nirvana. Eliza’s mom was extra annoyed because she thought Eliza was now worshipping a food store the way she used to worship Rob Lowe. They loved that no one else knew the bags’ hidden meaning.

  “I think you feigned interest just to appease me—but I had some significant fantasizing going on.”

  “Apparently so, since you’re still swooning over him.”

  “You’re the one who insisted girls should be able to take shop. Mr. DeLuca was not too happy about that progressive move, if I remember.”

  Eliza had petitioned to take shop in the fall of their senior year instead of home economics, citing Title IX. Everyone thought she was a feminist trailblazer, but Mandy knew she just wanted to come home and regale her with stories of Mr. DeLuca. As she remembered it, Eliza wasn’t really there yet when it came to boys, like she was. It felt like she did it just to keep in step with her best friend.

  “I don’t know how you remember all of this stuff, Mandy.”

  “Well, maybe because I’m still swooning over my high school drama teacher, two kids and all these years later.”

  Eliza raised her glass again. “To your new gig.”

  Amanda lifted her own and added, “May it be so fulfilling that I will want to stay forever!”

  Eliza couldn’t help but laugh. “You couldn’t get out of here fast enough, and now you want to bring up your kids here?”

  “This is the best place I know. I don’t know what I was running away from. Plus, my dad is getting older and could use the help.”

  “Your dad is fine, Mandy. I check in on him all the time. Well, at least I used to. He’s doing great.” Eliza’s tone got more serious, and she looked at her friend—if she could shake Carson Cole by the shoulders, she would. “I hate to think of you giving up on the life you dreamed of because of that jerk husband of yours.”

  “Believe me, I wasn’t living the life I dreamed of. I have to go. Thanks for the ‘protein shake.’ It hit the spot.”

  Eliza grabbed her car keys from the foyer shelf.

  “Now,” she said more brightly, “before you go, can you just pull my car out of the garage and put it in the driveway?”

  “I’ve been drinking,” Mandy replied, not wanting to enable Eliza more than she already was.

  “It’s just ten feet. Please, Mandy. It’s been inside all week and Luke knows I hate pulling into the garage. It’s suspect.”

  “Fin
e.” She took the keys and they hugged goodbye—with a little extra squeeze on both sides.

  CHAPTER 26

  Jackie & Alison

  Jackie was more nervous than usual when getting ready for his date, searching for the right words to explain his dual identity while getting dressed. Everything he came up with sounded wrong. Also, he disliked going out during the week. He had to rush home and jump in the shower after work, prepare something for dinner for Jana, and sit with her while she ate. He didn’t like breaking that promise for work or for a date. He knew that Jana would have been happy eating her dinner in front of reruns of The Office, but she always stuck to the rule that was so important to her dad. Dinner together. Tonight’s dinner was unusually interesting because she got to give her dad the third degree on his upcoming date.

  “Where did you meet this lady again?”

  “On the train,” he answered with a wave of nausea. Now he was lying to Jana, too. He couldn’t very well tell her that he met his lady friend on account of her lady friend.

  “Where are you going?”

  “That new Italian place on Main Street. I heard it was great. I’ll take you if it is.”

  “Thanks. What are you going to wear?”

  Jackie had already painstakingly dressed for the date in a striped oxford shirt, tan chinos, and loafers.

  “This is what I’m wearing.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh, that’s nice, or oh, that’s what you’re wearing?”

  “Well, I don’t know, Daddy. You look so cute in your jeans and that dope T-shirt, you know that one we bought in Soho last month.”

  “You think? I feel like that’s not dressy enough.”

  “Well, this whole tucked-in look you have going on, I think it’s kinda out of style.”

  She pushed her plate away and brought him upstairs to change. In the end, they agreed on the oxford shirt untucked over a pair of jeans.