by Anita Hughes
“I was going to tell you tonight,” Angelica lamented. “I felt terrible but I didn’t know you wanted to get back together with Ben. The last time we talked you wanted to kill him.”
“For almost a week I’ve been waiting for you to come up here,” Rosie said. “I thought we’d make s’mores in the fireplace and swim in the pool and stay up all night painting our fingernails. Now you show up with a British actor and tell me that my boyfriend has formed a new production company.”
“I’m sorry.” Angelica hugged her. “I can tell Dirk to sleep by himself and we can share the cottage. I’ll borrow my mother’s nail polish and we’ll have Morris bring us Pop-Tarts.”
Rosie sank into a chair and remembered the items on her to-do list in the cottage: learn the names of different varieties of roses; ask Morris how to pair wine with a meal. Everything she thought she and Ben would have together—the house in the Hollywood Hills, the vacation home in Palm Springs, the two children with brown hair and freckles—dissolved before her eyes.
Ben and Mary Beth would tour the South of France. Mary Beth would wear Oliver Peoples sunglasses and stilettos. They would sit at outdoor cafes and kiss over pain au chocolat and steaming espressos. At night they’d go back to their hotel suite and climb under sheets with ridiculously high thread counts.
“It’s not your fault,” Rosie said finally. “And you can’t let Dirk sleep alone. He must look sexy in his boxers.”
“Dirk is pretty hot in his underwear,” Angelica acknowledged and touched Rosie’s shoulder. “You’re the best person I know. You’re going to find someone new. I found someone.”
“It’s easy for you, but I’m different. You’re blond and beautiful and have your name on a movie billboard.” Rosie sighed, untying her apron.
“It’s going to get better,” Angelica assured her. “Let’s have dinner, I’m dying to try your tacos.”
The fish tacos were arranged on white porcelain plates. There were sterling silver salt and pepper shakers and crystal water glasses Rosie had dug out for the occasion.
Rosie threw her apron on the table. “I’m sorry, I’m not hungry.” She ran out the door and across the lawn and didn’t stop until she reached the cottage.
Six
Rosie dug her toes into the sand and watched the seagulls skim the waves. It was late afternoon and the tide was coming in. Families had packed up their coolers and gone back to their hotels to nurse their sunburns. A few swimmers paddled close to shore and a line of surfers waited at the break. The weather was cooling off and goose bumps crawled up Rosie’s skin.
Rosie had been at Butterfly Beach since early morning. She woke up ashamed of her behavior. Angelica wasn’t to blame for Ben’s defection, and Angelica idolized Grace Kelly. She could reel off the titles of her movies, her charities in Monaco, the dates of her marriage and her death. Rosie should have thanked Angelica for turning down the role in To Catch a Thief instead of fleeing to the cottage.
In the morning, Rosie couldn’t face Angelica and Dirk over poached eggs and bacon. She slipped on shorts and flip-flops and drove to the beach. A run would clear her head, and then she would go back and apologize. She’d force herself to eat lunch with Angelica and Dirk without cringing at the way he flipped his hair or pronounced his vowels.
But once Rosie felt the spray of the ocean and saw the beauty of the coastline, she couldn’t drag herself away. The peace settled over her like a fog. Angelica had left her a message but she’d answer it when she got home. All she wanted to do was walk the beach and watch crabs bury themselves in the sand. The sun touched the water and the horizon stretched out like a silk ribbon.
Rosie couldn’t understand how Ben moved on so quickly. When she thought about his new production company she couldn’t breathe. She felt foolish for thinking Ben’s tryst was a single mistake. Rosie had made the mistake of believing they could make it work.
Perhaps she should get a job in community theater like Ben and Angelica suggested. She’d be the assistant stage manager at the Montecito Playhouse. She’d stand in the back and recognize some faces from Hollywood. Actors often came to Montecito to do summer stock. But producers who left Hollywood didn’t go back. They were replaced by an eager crop of film school graduates faster than one could make the froth on a cappuccino.
Maybe Rosie could be a professional dog walker, lead German shepherds and Labradoodles along the beach. Or she’d get one of those telemarketing jobs where you worked in sweatpants and watched All My Children on mute. She considered sending her resume to other studios in Hollywood and her stomach lurched. Everyone in town would know Ben Ford brushed off his college sweetheart.
Rosie wished she had brought a sweater, but she didn’t want to leave until the sun set. A surfer dragged his board onto the sand and peeled off his wet suit. He shook the water out of his hair and walked towards the parking lot.
“I’d ask you to watch my board but you might let a horse run over it.” The surfer smiled. His blond curls stuck to his ears and his knees had cuts and bruises.
“I didn’t know horses were allowed on the beach,” Rosie replied.
“They are, actually.” Josh crouched on the sand next to her. “Riding on the beach at sunset is awesome.”
“I’ve been here since sunrise,” Rosie admitted, running her fingers through the sand. “It’s so peaceful.”
“You picked a great day.” Josh nodded and perched on his surfboard. “No breeze, just enough of a swell.”
Rosie sat awkwardly beside him. She wanted to apologize for running out of the garage, but she wasn’t sure what to say.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Josh turned to her.
“I was about to say that!” Rosie exclaimed.
“Apologize for what?” Josh asked.
“For running out of the garage. Last night I ran away from Angelica before dinner. She and her new boyfriend came up for the weekend. I’m not behaving well in social situations.” Rosie sighed.
“That’s why I come to the beach.” Josh chuckled. “It’s hard to mess up when it’s just you and the waves.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” Rosie squinted into the late-afternoon sun. “I was angry but I’m beginning to understand.”
“Understand?” Josh repeated.
“How you can have been burned so badly that you never want to start another fire.”
“I was going to say I’m sorry for eating your fish tacos. I found them in the kitchen last night. Morris told me you made them after I ate the whole plate.”
“We sound like Abbott and Costello.” Rosie grinned, remembered the hours she and Ben spent doubled over with laughter watching Abbott and Costello movies. “I’m glad you liked them.”
“They were amazing.” Josh nodded. “I’ve taken surfing trips to Mexico where we lived on fish tacos for days. I’ve never tasted any that were so good. You should go pro.”
“It might be my only talent,” Rosie lamented. “I’ve been wondering if I should become a children’s party planner or a dog walker.”
“Dog walking would be dangerous.” Josh shook his head. “You might run over a Shih Tzu.”
“I didn’t mean to run over your board.” Rosie flinched. “And I did offer to pay to fix it.”
“I was trying to make you laugh.” Josh touched her arm.
“I got some bad news yesterday.” Rosie stared at the waves. “Ben started a new production company with Mary Beth Chase.”
Josh looked at Rosie. “Is she the woman in your bed?”
“Hair like Rapunzel, fake breasts, and lips of a blowfish.” Rosie nodded. “Did I mention she has an MBA from Stanford, and more movie successes than any female producer in the twenty-first century? She’s the woman with the golden fingernails.”
“Sounds frightening.” Josh’s brows knit together.
“She’s Ben’s ticket to Space Mountain.” Rosie dug her toes into the sand. “He’s launched into the stratosphere.”
“You two aren’t
going to work it out?” he asked.
“Ben can’t separate the bedroom from the office.” She sighed. “He wants a woman who can do everything.”
“You’ll find someone else,” Josh assured her.
“I thought you didn’t believe in love.” Rosie frowned.
“It may not be right for me.” He shrugged. “But it is for most people.”
Rosie wrapped her arms around her chest and turned to Josh. “Tell me about the time you got your heart broken.”
“I met Sally in a Political Science class at UC Santa Barbara. She was smart and loved the ocean. We surfed every day. We got serious senior year, moved in together, planned a trip to Thailand. One day I came home and she had signed us both up for the LSAT. She had written out a list of law schools. Michigan for Christ’s sake! And New Orleans. I explained I didn’t want to be a lawyer and I couldn’t live away from the beach.” Josh gazed at the ocean. “We had a huge fight and I offered to compromise. We could live in LA. She’d go to law school and I’d figure out what I wanted to do.”
“What happened?” Rosie wondered aloud.
“She started surfing less and spending more time in the library. One afternoon I came home and there were two study guides in the kitchen. Sally admitted she was falling in love with a pre-law student in her Economics section.” He paused. “They both got accepted to Northwestern and now they practice law in Chicago. They just got engaged; she sent me a wedding invitation.”
“I’m sorry,” Rosie murmured, remembering the pain of Angelica saying that Ben and Mary Beth started their own production company.
Josh blinked, turning to Rosie. “I’m starving. Want to grab a burger? I’m buying.”
All she’d eaten since this morning was a bag of pita chips and an apple. “I’d love to, but you don’t have to pay.” She stood up, brushing the sand off her legs.
“Sure I do.” Josh grinned. “I ate your fish tacos.”
* * *
Rosie followed Josh’s car into the village. They parked under an oak tree and strolled along the sidewalk. Josh wore a Billabong t-shirt and leather flip-flops. The hair on his arms was blond and a narrow scar ran up his leg.
“When I was a kid I used to walk into every store with a quarter.” Josh waved at the shopwindows. “I’d ask each shopkeeper what I could buy and they thought I was so cute they gave me something for free.” He stopped in front of a diner with striped awnings. “Then I had a growth spurt and it didn’t work anymore.”
“I didn’t know you grew up here.” Rosie followed him inside. The floor was black and white squares of tile and there were red vinyl booths. An old-fashioned cash register stood on the counter and there was a glass case filled with tubs of ice cream.
“Just down the road.” Josh nodded, sliding into a booth.
“Do your parents still live in Montecito?” Rosie sat opposite him.
Josh scanned the menu and set it on the table. He looked up and his eyes darkened. “They’re both dead.”
“I’m sorry.” Rosie’s cheeks flushed and she put her napkin in her lap.
“We apologize a lot for two people who barely know each other.” He smiled, changing the subject. “Montecito is a great town. You should stay here for a while.”
“And do what, become a beekeeper?” Rosie glanced at her menu.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a beekeeper,” he answered. “You don’t have to be a neurosurgeon or a rocket scientist to be happy.”
“My parents are rocket scientists at Kennedy Space Center.” Rosie grinned. “They didn’t approve of my major, but they were happy when Ben and I won the award at Sundance.”
“They’re not going to stop being proud of you because you change careers.” He signaled for the waitress.
“I don’t really have a career. I assisted the casting director and the location scout. I consulted with craft services and sat in on budget meetings. I didn’t have anything of my own.”
Josh ordered a double cheeseburger and a chocolate shake and Rosie asked for a Cobb salad and a lemonade. They talked about Josh’s sister who was an artist in San Francisco and Rosie’s brother who taught economics in Japan.
“I was the only one in the family who watched movies or read novels.” Rosie sipped her lemonade. “At dinner my brother solved logarithms, and my parents discussed landing feasibility of the space shuttle.”
“My sister and I were really close.” Josh stirred his milk shake. “Every summer we’d have lemonade stands and build fortresses in the garden.”
“Is she married?” Rosie asked.
“A long string of boyfriends.” Josh waited while the waitress placed a burger and fries in front of him. “But she doesn’t want to settle down. I keep telling her to hurry up and choose the right guy so I can be an uncle.”
“Marriage is okay for everyone but you?” Rosie asked, pouring dressing on her salad.
“Yvette is a little complicated. She has that nomad’s heart and fiery personality,” he mused. “She’s always the heartbreaker in the relationship.”
“I’m surprised you eat burgers.” Rosie thought about Ben and Mary Beth and suddenly wanted to change the subject. “I thought surfers subsisted on tofu and wheatgrass.”
“I burn so many calories I have to eat nonstop.” Josh wiped his mouth. “When my buddies and I go on surfari we can eat three dozen eggs and two pounds of bacon in one sitting.” He added relish and mustard to his burger. “There’s a taco stand in Encinitas that makes the best enchiladas. Nothing beats coming in from the waves and chowing down with your mates.”
Rosie ate silently, wondering what she was doing sitting with a guy wearing board shorts and flip-flops at a vintage diner in Montecito. She was used to eating a Whole Foods salad on the set. Sometimes she and Ben slipped out to the Coffee Company and sipped iced frappuccinos. If they ordered a burger at one of the outdoor cafes in Santa Monica it came with organic beef and artisan cheese and a kale salad.
“I have an idea!” Josh put down his burger. “You could open a fish taco shop in town. You’d have a line out the door, like at the cookie store or the gelato place.”
“I’m not a chef.” Rosie shook her head.
“They were the best fish tacos I ever tasted,” Josh insisted. “What’s your secret?”
Rosie blushed, picking at crumbling blue cheese. “I use a few special ingredients in the guacamole.”
“It would be a blast to have your own shop.” Josh dipped his fries in ketchup. “I’m saving to buy the Classic Car Showroom when my boss retires.”
“I wouldn’t be good at it,” Rosie answered. “I’ve never been my own boss. I’m better at taking commands than giving them.”
“It beats dog walking.” Josh ate a mouthful of French fries. “Or hiding out in the Pullmans’ guest cottage.”
“I’m not hiding,” she bristled. “I’m taking a break and figuring out what to do.”
“You’re smart and young and have a college degree. You can do anything.” Josh finished his burger.
“Everyone wants to give me advice: Ben, Angelica, Estelle. I don’t need more advice.” Rosie rose unsteadily to her feet.
Josh stood up and put his hand on Rosie’s. His hands were bigger than Ben’s, and his fingernails were perfect half-moons.
“I’m sorry.” He smiled. “Sit down and finish your salad.”
“I hate salads.” Rosie’s mouth trembled. “All I ate in LA was salads: spinach salad, goat cheese salad, chicken Caesar salad.”
“Excuse me,” Josh called the waitress. “Could you take these plates away and bring us a banana split with two spoons.”
“I haven’t eaten a banana split since I was twelve.” Rosie sank back into the booth.
Josh sat down and smiled. “Then you have a lot of catching up to do.”
* * *
Rosie pulled into the Pullmans’ driveway and noticed Dirk’s Aston Martin parked by the steps. It was almost seven p.m. and Rosie would be late for dinner.
The lights were on in the living room and she heard Dirk’s British accent and Estelle’s high, clear voice. There were the sounds of glasses clinking and music playing on the stereo. She parked by the garage and ran to the cottage. She couldn’t join them wearing shorts and flip-flops. Estelle believed in dressing in the evening, even if it was just her and Oscar at the long dining room table.
Rosie thought about Josh as she searched her closet for a pair of slacks and a sweater. She had never met someone so comfortable in his own skin. At Kenyon everyone wanted to get PhDs or become artists or writers. In Hollywood people were obsessed with fame and climbing the entertainment industry ladder. Even those who worked on indie films had two mantras: “Sundance” and “Cannes.”
Rosie glanced at her face in the mirror. She had new freckles on her nose and sun streaks in her hair. She couldn’t remember ever not having a serious goal. In high school she was determined to get into a great college. At Kenyon she worked hard to get good grades. When she met Ben she stopped thinking about the future: all they had to do was keep moving forward. Now she was like a train that fell off its tracks; she didn’t know how to get back on the rails.
“There you are!” Estelle greeted Rosie as she entered the living room. “Angelica was telling me about the lovely dinner you made last night.”
Rosie glanced at Angelica to see if she was angry with her. Angelica wore a pleated linen skirt and a ruffled blouse. She sat on a chintz love seat next to Dirk, sipping a glass of white wine.
“The fish tacos were delicious.” Angelica nodded. “We were hoping you’d make some for lunch but you disappeared.”
“I went to the beach early.” Rosie accepted a glass from Oscar and stood by the fireplace. “I was only going for a run, but I stayed all day.”
“You must be starving,” Estelle said. “When I walk the dogs on the beach, I could eat a whole box of donuts.”
“Mother.” Angelica rolled her eyes. “I’ve never seen you eat a donut in my life.”
