by Abby Stern
“You deserve it, Mom,” Robin tells her as we both watch my mother finish a meal for the first time since she started chemo. “We’re all so proud of you. You didn’t give up hope and you’re showing signs only of improvement. You’re going to be okay.”
“We aren’t out of the woods just yet but I am feeling better.”
“Mom, you’re in remission, that’s huge.” Robin wants her to acknowledge that she stood up to cancer and won.
“Sweetheart, you’re a doctor. You of all people know that remission doesn’t mean I’m cured. If I was your patient you’d make it very clear, just like Dr. Jacobs did, that I’m not cured.”
“I’m not your doctor, though, I’m your daughter and I’m allowed to be optimistic, especially when your counts continue to improve.”
“I’d like to propose a toast,” I say, raising a glass of champagne. My mom can only have sparkling water since she still has a lower dose of chemo to finish as outpatient treatment, but what’s in our glasses or on our plates doesn’t really matter.
“My go-to toast is ‘To glamour and love’ but that doesn’t feel right,” I tell them.
My mom and Robin and Jeff look confused. Marianna doesn’t care what’s going on around her. She’s devouring her pasta, and tonight we’ve learned that she likes truffles. She’s going to be a handful and will no doubt make her teenage years hell on her parents. Talk about karma for Robin.
“What does feel right?” my mom asks.
“To Dr. Jacobs,” I salute. The adults raise their glasses with me. My mother wants to get in on the toasting action as well. She raises her glass again.
“And to my two perfect daughters—”
“Mom, Ella and I are far from perfect. Perfect doesn’t exist,” Robin interrupts.
“So smart and you still don’t understand.” She nods her head at us, waiting for the answer to click but it doesn’t and she flashes a smile, amused. Neither of us gets it. “You’re right. Perfection doesn’t exist because it’s fluid.” She eyes us both individually so we pay attention. Robin first, me second. “Perfect is now. It’s the present. It’s doing the best you can and appreciating everything and everyone in your life. So I’d say I have two pretty perfect daughters. Cheers!”
“Cheers,” we all repeat.
“I love you, Mom,” I say, kissing her on the cheek.
“I love you too, my sweet pea.” The smile fades from her face and her stare is making me uncomfortable.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing, dear. Nothing is wrong. I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.”
“Are you sure?” she presses. “What ever happened with that man you were seeing; Nick?” she asks. “You seemed to like him so much.”
I look around for a waiter, hoping I can get a refill of my beverage, but sadly there are none in sight. “Mom, I told you, it’s over between Nick and me.” He signed Sexy Indie Film Actor as a client, but I haven’t heard from him since that meeting.
“Do you want it to be over?”
“I don’t really think I have a choice.”
“All I’m saying is he seemed to make you happy. Sometimes in life you have to fight for the things and people who are important to you.”
“Mom, there’s a name for people who continue to try to date people who have broken up with them—stalker.”
“I just think you should put yourself out there and give it another shot,” she continues.
I nod my head, since it’s easier to do that than explain my unfavorable decisions, which were behind the demise of my most recent relationship. I turn to Robin for an exit out of this conversation. My mom refocuses her energy on Marianna and helping her pronounce the foreign names of all of the dishes we consumed tonight.
“Thanks for dinner.”
Robin checks the bill one last time to make sure it’s accurate before signing.
“I was happy to do it. Was nice to have a fancy family meal out on the town,” Robin says. “I hope we can do it more often.”
“Me, too. Tonight was really fun.” I smile.
“It was,” she agrees, finishing her one glass of champagne from the evening.
“I kinda don’t want it to end. What do you say? Stick around and have a sister drink at the bar with me? Just the two of us,” I offer.
Before Robin says a word I can tell that she’s going to give me ten excuses about why she shouldn’t have more than one drink and why she shouldn’t stay, so I decide I won’t let her talk. “Come on, Robin. It’s only eight thirty. I won’t take no for an answer, and you know that I’m going to bother you until you agree.” She sighs. “It’s so much easier to just say yes and not go through the whole song and dance.”
“But—”
“No. No buts. Just let go so we can have fun together,” I urge.
Every natural instinct Robin has is fighting my request but tonight it will be a losing battle for her. “Jeff, will you get Mom and Marianna home? Ella and I are going to hang back and have a drink at the bar.”
“Sure, sweetie,” he replies. My mother clasps her hands together, overjoyed at our newfound sibling bonding.
“Have fun, my darlings,” she says as she gets up from the table. Jeff and Marianna come over to kiss Robin.
“Good night, my lovebug,” Robin says, pulling Marianna onto her lap. “Mommy isn’t going to be home to tuck you in tonight but Grandma and Daddy will make sure you get your story and tuck you in.”
“What about Kiss, Hug, Squeeze?” she asks.
Robin’s face radiates with joy. “You’re right. How about we do it here?”
“Kiss. Hug. Squeeze!” Marianna squeals.
“Good night, Marianna.” Robin gets up and passes her back to Jeff.
“’Night, Mommy.”
“What time will you be home?” Jeff asks.
“In about an hour or so.” He kisses Robin good night as well and the three of them hug. As I watch them my mother comes over to me.
“Kiss, hug, squeeze,” she says as she does them all, almost making me feel like I’m Marianna’s age again—in a good way. “Good night, Ella.”
“Good night, Mom.”
We leave them for the bar as they make their way out to valet. I’ve never been “out” to have a drink with my sister before, so this bonding social experiment should be interesting.
“What’ll you have?” the bartender who’s from the Armani billboard on Highland Avenue inquires.
“A glass of champagne, please,” I reply.
“Macallan Eighteen on the rocks for me,” Robin adds.
“Whoa, going for the hard stuff tonight. Watch out, world, high-school Robin is in the room.”
“Actually I was more of a vodka, gin, whatever-Dad-had-in-the-liquor-cabinet-when-he-forgot-to-lock-it kinda girl.” We both crack up and can’t stop laughing. “See, once you get me out of the house-and-work mode I’m fun,” she insists. Our drinks come and she raises her glass.
“I’m proud of you, El. The last few months you’ve really stepped up. Especially with Mom.” She points her glass toward me and drinks in my honor.
“Thanks. That really means a lot to me. I was really scared for a bit. I’m glad she’s turned a corner in her treatment.” As she continues drinking I notice the alcohol hitting her. She is definitely not high-school Robin anymore but she’s not stick-up-her-ass ER-doctor Robin either. She’s just being fun and my older sister.
“Can I get you ladies another round?” the bartender asks, noticing our empty glasses before we had.
“Yes!” Robin tells him without even checking to see if that’s what I was thinking. “I needed this,” she says.
“You did. You’re not just a mom, a wife, or a doctor. You are allowed to have some fun and let some steam off and maybe—gasp—make a mistake every once in a while,” I tell her playfully, masking the truth in what sounds like a joke to make it more palatable.
“You’ve been making the mistake
s for us both,” she jokes back, using my tactic against me.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry. You’re right, that was too far. I really am not used to more than two drinks now. I guess this stuff is really hitting me,” she says as the bartender places our fresh drinks in front of us. She can say that again! “I want to be cool and do your toast,” she whines. She is definitely more buzzed than I realized but I’m having fun with her.
“Okay, raise your glass.” Robin follows my instructions. “To glamour and love,” I say, clinking her glass.
“To glamour and love,” she repeats as she looks down at her glass and takes a sip.
“Robin!”
“What? Did I do it wrong?” she asks nervously.
“You’re supposed to look me in the eye or else it’s seven years of bad sex,” I warn her.
“Oh, that’s not possible with Jeff,” she says nonchalantly. Her cheeks are flushed. “You only really see the dad side of him but once we get in the bedroom—”
“Okay! That’s enough. Any more and I’ll have to find a therapist first thing in the morning. Just clink my glass again and look me in the eye.”
Robin lets out a drunken laugh and toasts me again. “El.”
“I swear, if you start telling me about some sexual fetish right now I’m going to pour my drink on you,” I warn.
“No. I’m not that drunk. Two o’clock,” she says, lightly tapping my thigh.
“Huh?”
“Two o’clock,” she repeats. I turn my head and see Male Half of A-List Hollywood Power Couple on the opposite side of the bar. “Your job couldn’t have been that hard,” she jokes.
Thirty-one
You can do this, Ella. You’re an adult. Just press Send.
Me: Hey Hol, it’s Ella (in case you deleted my number). Wanted to see if you’re up for lunch this week?
I hit Send on the text message and feel more nervous than I did at court. Waiting for Holiday to reply feels like how she must’ve felt waiting for the results of her pregnancy test.
Holiday: Wednesday 12 pm, the usual place?
Me: Sure. See you at Mauro’s.
Holiday: No. I mean our other place.
What other place? She can’t be talking about …
Me: Chateau? Hol, you know I’m not welcome there.
Holiday: You didn’t hear???
Me: No, hear what?
Holiday: Pixie Haircut Hostess was fired! Apparently she was feeding gossip to one of the magazines! You’re free to return!!!
Me: No way!
Holiday: I don’t think they’ll give you any problem but if they do I can handle it.
Me: See you then!
I try on no fewer than ten outfits when Wednesday rolls around. I’m not exactly sure what one wears to a lunch with your ex-BFF that you’re just trying to be F with again. Something inside me directs me toward some AG jeans. They’ve been lucky for me before so I throw them on, and even though seasons change, they never go out of style. I’m hoping it’s an analogy for our friendship. I’m not sure what to expect. Our relationship as of late has been bipolar, rightfully so, but I’m hoping that today is the first step to us finding our equilibrium again.
As I enter I feel like I just ate bad Mexican food. A new brunette clad in a black T-shirt dress now mans the hostess stand. I clear my throat.
“I’m meeting Holiday Hall for lunch.”
She checks her list and smiles. The attitude change in the hostess is noted. “Yes, right this way, please.” She grabs two menus and I follow her … into the garden. I’m only waiting a few moments before Holiday is escorted over to me.
“Hi, darling,” she says, leaning down, surprising me by giving me a double kiss. I wasn’t sure we were back at the double-kissing stage. She sits down and removes her sunglasses.
“Hi, how are you?” I ask, still slightly hesitant and careful about everything I say.
“I’m doing well. Relishing my time off. How are you? How’s your mom?” she asks after a few moments of us quietly staring at each other and the landscaping.
“She’s been getting better. Right now everything is looking really good for her. Thanks for asking.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” We are both nervous. “This is so awkward,” she finally admits.
“I know, I just keep thinking about how much history we have together and then being estranged during such a stressful time in both of our lives. It’s really bizarre.”
“That’s not what I mean, Ella. I mean it’s weird being out with you, here of all places, and your eyes aren’t darting around looking for your story. You’re here and present. I’m just not used to it yet.” She picks up a menu and peruses it to give herself a task. We both know she knows it better than the waitstaff.
“I feel like we’re exes or something.” I sigh.
“We sort of are,” she says. “Well, not so much exes. We’re separated and trying to reconcile.”
“Like our relationship had a midlife crisis and a one-night stand with a twenty-two-year-old,” I joke, continuing the metaphor.
“Exactly. The first step is forgiveness and now we can try to heal and move forward.”
“I have to be honest; I didn’t think you’d ever forgive me.” The busboy brings us water and I take my glass from him before he can set it down on the table.
“For a long time I didn’t think I would either. But when you told me that you started Compassionate Celebrities. I knew that you were sincere about being sorry. I said such horrible things to you and even if my anger was justified, instead of telling me to bugger off you tried to help me. You didn’t just apologize, you tried to make things right. And you did.” She pauses and looks down briefly before continuing. “Besides, I was the one sleeping with a married man. I couldn’t blame you for everything. I had to take responsibility for my part, too.” I must look like I’ve been tased because it feels like my eyes are bugging out of my face. I desperately want to say something but I’m speechless. I couldn’t find the words if I wanted to, so she continues. “I think that part of the reason I was so angry is because when the story came out everyone was saying I had no talent and I never would’ve gotten the part if I hadn’t slept with the director, and I was scared that maybe they were right. As horrible as it was, I suppose it gave us both some perspective and direction.”
We are two drastically different people than we were a few months ago, sitting across from each other at lunch, but I’m excited to see where these two people end up.
“Even when I hated you, I missed you,” Holiday confesses. “Which made me hate you even more. Something would happen on set or Tristan and I would have a tiff or there’d be another new horrible story about me in the press I’d want to vent about and I’d want to text you and then I’d remember what happened and ugh, I didn’t like it.” The waiter comes around with the bread basket and Holiday shakes her head midconversation and he retreats with the carbs.
“I missed you, too! Jess is great but my friendship with her will never be what ours was. Robin and I are closer but I’m not ready to cry about Nick to her.”
“Since you brought him up…” She snoops. “What’s going on with you guys?”
“Nothing,” I tell her matter-of-factly. “I went to his office to discuss him signing Sexy Indie Film Actor and he was polite but otherwise indifferent toward me.”
“Really?” She seems surprised. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Believe it,” I advise her.
“It’s just that he—”
“Hol, it’s okay,” I interrupt Holiday before she can continue. I don’t want to drag this out. Talking about Nick sends me into an overanalytical tailspin and I can’t keep obsessing about him or what we had or what we were or what I thought we could be. “I just need to keep moving forward. Of course I wish it was with him but it’s not so…” When I glance down at the table to grab my mimosa, I realize we don’t have them. If memory serves me, this is the first dry lunch Holiday and I
have ever had. She tries to recover from the uncomfortableness of the Nick topic.
“What do you have going on the rest of the day?” she asks.
“I have to meet Jess and Maggie. They both help me with the site and we have to touch base about stories for the week since it’s my day off from The Coffee Bean.”
“About that, El. Even though all of this was a huge mess I’m sorry you got fired from The Life. I know you loved that job.”
I jump in to correct her assumption. “Holiday, I didn’t get fired. I quit.”
Her jaw drops like a cartoon character. “You did?”
“Yeah. Victoria actually offered me a better job but only if I gave her info I had about Not-So-Innocent Oversexualized Pop Star. So, I quit. I’m glad I had all of those experiences. I’m certainly not going to be lying on my deathbed regretting that I never had any fun times or didn’t live my life to the fullest, but the price just got to be too high. I didn’t want to risk losing myself again, and if I stayed I was almost certain to.”
The waiter finally comes to take our order. “What can I get you ladies?”
“Two mimosas,” Holiday answers.
“Hol, I don’t—”
“No bloody way, Ella. After everything we’ve been through you’re not going to let me drink alone.”
* * *
“How was lunch with Holiday?” Jess asks as soon as she opens her door. She and Maggie await my answer like they’re waiting for me to announce the final number of the Powerball when they already got five matches.
“It was so weird,” I tell her, plopping onto the couch.
“Weird? Weird how?” she presses.
“Weird in that it was so different but so familiar,” I continue. “It was like I was having déjà vu but they were someone else’s experiences, if that makes any sense.”
She has a puzzled look on her face, so clearly it doesn’t. “So are you guys all good?” she asks.
“Yeah. I think so. We will be. I hope. The friendship will never be exactly the same and I think it’s going to take some time to get back to a place where we are as comfortable with each other as we used to be but I think we might end up being even better.” I honestly believe that. “Let’s get down to business,” I request.
