by Erin Zak
“You sure?”
“Mm-hmm.”
The lights flicked off and on, and all three looked at the office with a frosted glass door. A redheaded nurse dressed in aubergine-colored scrubs popped out from behind the door and while speaking signed, “P-h-y-l-l-i-s T-h-o-m-p-s-o-n.”
All three of them stood and made their way to the nurse. “I’m Phyllis.” Bernadette watched her mother interact with the nurse. “I’m deaf but can speak just fine. I can read lips, but I’m getting a little rusty as I age.” She chuckled. “I am eighty-five, after all.”
The nurse smiled. “Eighty-five? I would have never known. You look great. My name is D-e-b.” She shook hands as Paul introduced himself, and then it was Bernadette’s turn. “It’s a pleasure meeting you all. Please, come in.” They entered the office single file, then moved to a quaint area to the left of Deb’s large office. The three of them sat on the very worn leather couch, and after grabbing a stack of papers and a large manila folder, Deb sat in the red leather wingback chair next to the couch. She was a fiery thing, animated and adorable, with pale skin and freckles. She had great energy, and Bernadette was impressed with her already. “So, you’re interested in one of the rooms here at Helping Hands, correct?”
“We’re keeping our options open.” Bernadette smiled after she jumped to answer the question first, but the smile turned into a frown when Paul rolled his eyes. “No, we’re interested. I’m sorry.”
“You seem hesitant.”
“I am.” Bernadette sighed. “But Mom’s ready for this.”
Deb leaned forward and crossed her legs. She was wearing black clogs and Christmas socks, and instead of it being annoying, Bernadette found it incredibly endearing. Deb gestured a small wave at their mother and smiled. “Are you ready for this?”
Bernadette watched her mother’s face light up. It made Bernadette want to cry. She was still struggling with her mother thinking she was being held captive. If she had known how it was all going to go down, she would have told her father on his deathbed, No, thank you. I want to live my life, too, instead of jumping at the chance to save the day.
“I am ready. I want to be around other people like me. I want to spend the last years of my life living and experiencing new things. Am I making sense?” She signed everything while speaking, and for the first time since this whole ordeal started, Bernadette felt a sense of relief mixed with…she couldn’t put her finger on it, but it felt a lot like happiness.
“It makes perfect sense,” Deb signed. She pulled out a brochure which explained everything about the facility. She started to go over it as her mother clutched the booklet. They had an indoor pool, a workout room and gym, a game room with shuffleboard, and even a Nintendo Wii because, “Who doesn’t like to play Mario Kart?” Deb went over the daily schedule, including mealtimes. “Every member of the working community is fluent in ASL, including our kitchen staff, so do not hesitate to ask for something if you need it.”
“Do you have rooms available now?”
Bernadette looked at her mother when she asked the question. There was no turning back now.
“We do have two rooms open. Do you want to go tour them?”
Their mother sprang up from the couch with the enthusiasm of a small child. Deb’s boisterous laugh was a welcome sound as Bernadette felt her entire body start to recognize this was going to happen. Mom was going to move in here. And there was nothing Bernadette could do to stop it.
Bernadette stood from her position on the couch and took a step to follow her mother and Deb, but Paul pulled her back by the arm. She glanced down at his fingers wrapped around her bicep, then up at him. “What?”
“This is perfect for her.”
Bernadette sighed. He was right, and she knew it, so instead of fighting him like she always would have in the past, she said, “I know. I’m happy we came here. Thanks for making me.” She couldn’t fight her smile as she watched his reaction. He was completely shocked with his mouth hanging open. “Close your mouth, you dick. Let’s go look at these rooms.”
* * *
“So, Christmas alone. How’d it go?”
Stevie shrugged even though she was on the phone, and Laurie couldn’t see her. “It was pretty shitty.”
“I’ve never spent a Christmas alone.”
“Yeah, well, until yesterday, neither had I.” Stevie sighed. “Missing Christmas at Gram’s was not easy. And even though I wouldn’t have seen you guys at the theater until tonight, I miss you all. Don’t tell them I said that, of course.”
“Of course not. I don’t want people thinking you have a heart.”
“Whew,” Stevie said while laughing. She went through the turnstile and entered the lobby of the famous NBC Studios at 30 Rockefeller Plaza. “I’ve been crazy busy, so until yesterday, I didn’t realize how much I was missing everyone.”
“Completely understandable. You’re allowed to miss people, y’know?”
“I know. But I don’t want to be all sad and mopey.”
“God, Stevie, you’re such a weirdo. Most people embrace their emotions.”
“Well, not me.” She leaned against the wall as she waited for an elevator. She was a good three hours early reporting for her third full day of rehearsals. “So, anyway. I texted you about the New Year’s Eve special, right?”
“You are going to be amazing. You worked your ass off for this. So I’m totally psyched and cannot wait to watch it,” Laurie said.
Stevie’s stomach twisted in knots. “Well, I hope it goes as smoothly as it seems it will.” She was trying to sound optimistic, but her heart was not in it. After everything, though, there was no way she could let anyone back home know she wasn’t having the time of her life. Each rehearsal so far had knocked her on her ass, causing her to have serious second thoughts. She missed everyone so much. And she missed the safety and comfort of the improv theater with her cast mates who supported each other. She was so new at SNL, and everyone was critical of her. She could barely look at them all without feeling as if she was instantly being judged. And she was so fearful she was going to bomb her first night on air. She was convinced of it. She wasn’t hitting her marks, reading the cue cards was completely foreign to her, and knowing that past SNL cast members were lurking around every corner was causing her to be extra critical of herself. And all she could think about was Bernadette. And her anger. And the vision of her walking away in the airport. Stevie could not put the thought out of her mind.
“How’s Mikayla? Is she sick of sharing an apartment with your crazy self yet?”
Stevie shook the memory from her head before she responded. “We’re getting along very well. She has a great place. I think she’s pumped about the additional rent money, too. Hey, by the way, do you think you could go and check on Noah? He’s subleasing my apartment.”
“Oh God, you let that weasel use your bed? You’re going to need a new one.”
“It was him or a complete stranger. And he believed me when I said my rent was three hundred dollars more than what it is. So…”
“You’re hilarious.”
“He’s such an idiot. He deserves it.” Stevie let out a small gasp when she looked up and saw Kristen Wiig stroll up to the elevator and press the up button. She kept her mouth closed, but her eyes had to be as big as saucers. It was Kristen Wiig. In front of her. And when she didn’t think she could be more starstruck, Kristen looked at her and smiled. Smiled. Like with her whole mouth and teeth and…holy shit. When Kristen boarded an elevator car, Stevie let the doors close then said softly into the phone, “Laurie, I just saw Kristen fucking Wiig.”
Laurie let out an ear-piercing screech. “You are so lucky. I hate you.”
“Oh, you wait. If I ever meet Tina Fey, I’ll die. So this whole experience will be real short-lived.”
“Speaking of Tina Fey,” Laurie said, “have you spoken to Bernadette?”
“That has absolutely nothing to do with Tina Fey.”
“I know, but it�
�s a good segue.”
“I don’t know why I’m even still friends with you.”
“Because you love me. Now, have you talked to her?”
She could lie and tell Laurie, of course, she had talked to her. It wasn’t as if Laurie would ever find out the truth, right? But as the sadness in Stevie’s heart crept into the area of her brain which controlled her speech, she sighed and told the truth. “No. I haven’t spoken to her. I haven’t texted her. She hasn’t reached out at all. So I’m not reaching out. She made it perfectly clear she’s done with me.”
“I don’t understand how you don’t see what she was doing. You’re so dense.”
“Excuse me?” She pushed off the wall and turned in a circle before she walked away from the elevators. “What do you mean?”
“Come on. She fucking did that so you had no choice but to go to New York City. She was not about to let you pick her over your career.” Laurie growled on the other end of the phone. “God. You don’t see that? Like, at all?”
Stevie rolled her eyes as she started to pace. “So let me get this straight. You think Bernadette broke my heart so I would leave? You think everything she said was a lie? She doesn’t think I’m selfish?” When Laurie didn’t answer right away, Stevie let out a small laugh. “It doesn’t matter one way or the other. She’s done with me. And I need to be done with her. I cannot do two things at once. My focus needs to be this. The end.”
“You’re such a dick sometimes, Stevie.”
“Why am I the dick? She’s the one who said hurtful shit.”
“Because. Do you even have any idea how much better you were onstage with Bernadette in your life?”
She stopped in her tracks. Her eyes were instantly drawn to her reflection in the elaborate mirrored walls of the lobby. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You are ridiculous.” Laurie laughed. “You make me so angry. You’re so fucking talented, and you know it. But the second someone came along who distracted you from yourself, you assumed she was bringing you down, when all she was doing was making you the best goddamn version of yourself. And instead of trying to stick it out with her, with this woman who seemingly found something in your conceited self to love, you thought the only way to deal with it was to break up with her.”
“Laurie, come on. I told you a hundred times she wasn’t leaving her mother. What was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know, man, but you’re stupid. She was amazing. And I hope you miss the fuck out of her. Because she deserved a lot better than what you fucking gave her.”
“Wow.”
“I’m being serious.”
“Oh, I know. And I can’t believe you’re so mad at me because of this. It’s bullshit.” She straightened her spine, pulled her shoulders back, and looked at herself again in the mirror. “My conceited self needs to go. To my job. At fucking Saturday Night Live. So I hope you have a good day.” And she pulled the phone from her ear and hung up on her best friend. Something she swore she would never do, but she didn’t care. There was no reason for Laurie to be like that with her. No reason at all. She walked over to the elevator as it dinged and boarded it. The last thing she needed before one of the biggest rehearsals of her life was to be distracted by her stupid broken heart. But what the hell did Laurie mean when she said she was at her best with Bernadette in her life? What the hell did that mean? All Bernadette did was pull her attention away from what truly mattered in her life.
Her career.
Period.
Stevie cleared her throat after the mental pep talk, leaned her head to each side to pop her neck, and clenched her jaw. She wanted to make sure no one ever got in the way again. But she knew it was impossible to promise herself, especially because she was never going to forget Bernadette. Or the way she felt in Bernadette’s presence.
Chapter Twenty-two
Mercadito on West Kenzie in Chicago was the restaurant where Stevie freely handed her heart to Anastacio, the table side guacamole chef who was so sweet and wonderful. She would often joke she’d go straight for him if only he made her guacamole every single day. She hated admitting foreign foods were, well, foreign to her, but it was absolutely the case. So when her nights out with Laurie, Ashley, and Deondre turned into opportunities for them to expand her food horizons, she fell quickly in love with Mercadito. Needless to say, she would wrangle them into going at least three times a month. They’d talk, they’d laugh, they’d eat so many baskets of chips, and of course, they’d drink because what else was there to do as improv theater stars in the bustling city of Chicago? They became regulars, and Anastacio’s guacamole skills improved with each visit.
God, she missed her friends.
And Anastacio’s guacamole.
Stevie sighed and put on a brave face as she nervously stood with a group of writers and cast mates in the lobby of Dos Caminos, which apparently had the best guacamole in Times Square. All she could think was there was no way it was better than Anastacio’s. She pushed her skepticism to the pit of her stomach because she was working at settling down and fitting in, and also because, for the first time in days, she was starving.
Her stomach growled as she took in the ambiance of the restaurant. Colorful painted birds and flowers adorned the walls and extended onto the ceiling in some areas. The lighting was wonderful, making it look cozy and intimate. Every table and booth was full, and the check-in line was ridiculous. Her disappointment at the realization she was not going to eat anytime soon was starting to seep out of her pores. She could feel it.
“Mikayla, party of eight.”
Stevie perked up instantly. “That can’t be us. Is that us?”
Mikayla tossed her mane of dark hair over her shoulder and laughed. “Honey, you’re going to get real used to never waiting for a table.”
Her steps were a little lighter as she followed her seven new friends to the table. It was in a great spot, tucked away in a room to the side. Edison lights hung from the ceiling, and the room had its own bar. Stevie hoped she didn’t look too impressed because…how embarrassing. But she knew she had been caught when Josh, another writer, touched her on the arm and said, “I’m from Ohio, so this all impressed me way more than it should.”
Stevie hoped she wasn’t blushing as she laughed. “Yeah, well, the Chicago scene was a little different, as well.”
“I’m sure it was.” Josh sat but not before pulling a chair out for Stevie and another one for Mikayla. “Do you like margaritas? They’re amazing here.”
“I’m not sure.” Stevie relaxed into the wicker-backed chair. Breathe.
“Never had one?”
“Uh, no, I don’t typically remember a whole lot when I drink tequila.”
Josh leaned his head back and let out a boisterous laugh. The sound of laughter always helped Stevie find her center, so she was thrilled she’d made him laugh.
“I feel your pain,” he said as he raised his freshly poured glass of ice water. “You’ll be getting one tonight. Or two. Or hell, maybe more?”
Mikayla leaned across Josh and grabbed Stevie’s arm. “Do not let him seduce you.”
Stevie arched an eyebrow. “I think I’ll be okay. I’ve been chased by swifter men than him before.”
“Good. A challenge.” Josh waggled his eyebrows as he motioned for the server. “Three El Camino margaritas, please. And whatever these two are having.”
“My God,” Mikayla muttered. “One of those is for me. Stevie?”
“I’ll have the other, you lush.” She smiled when he laughed again. Was he just being nice? Trying to get in her pants like Mikayla hinted? Either way, it felt good.
After a couple minutes of banter, the margaritas were delivered. Stevie wasn’t lying. The last time she’d drunk tequila, she blacked out and had to have Deondre regale her with the details of how she got home. Her hangover was horrifying and lasted two days. Two. Full. Days. To say she was hesitant now was a bit of an understatement. Nevertheless, she powered through the hesi
tation and started to drink. It was delicious. As she took her second and third sips, she secured her blinders as she zipped past the warning and danger signs. She needed this. She needed a night with new people and new experiences so she could maybe try to like it in New York City. She knew she was going to be homesick, but damn, she never thought she’d be contemplating giving it all up and leaving.
Stevie had tearily confided in Deondre on the phone the night before, and he’d practically ripped her a new one when she said she wanted to come home. He didn’t understand, though. No one would understand. She was failing and flailing, and she could see the others judging her every time she messed something up. They all seemed so nice, but damn, none of them could hide the judgment in their eyes.
When the chair next to her pulled out and Josie Bell sat down, Stevie knew her eyes were showing fear. Josie was the hot star these days. She was hysterical, and her characters were incredible, especially Liquor Mart Joan, whom she created onstage at Improv Chicago, years before Stevie made mainstage. Stevie had seen her perform numerous times. She’d been enamored with Josie for years, so sitting next to her now? Looking at her with her jet-black hair, her beautiful complexion, and her Anthropologie shirt and pants was surreal. And also frightening. Stevie’s mouth seemed to dry almost instantly, so she tried to swallow once, then twice, before she picked her drink back up and sipped on it to help the process.
“Stevie Adams,” Josie said, her voice low, her eyes never leaving Stevie’s. “Improv Chicago, eh?”
She nodded, smiled, tried to not swallow her tongue.
“In the Big Apple now.”
Stevie continued to smile, but she was unsure if she should respond. So she didn’t. She stayed completely silent. She wondered…if she stopped moving, would Josie be able to see her any longer? As if her vision was based on movement, like a Tyrannosaurus rex.
“You’re allowed to talk to me, y’know.” Josie swiped Stevie’s margarita from her hand and pulled the straw into her mouth. Before she started to drink, she said, “I started out in the same place as you did. And I put my bra on just like every other woman.” Then she bit down on the straw, wrapped her lips around it, and sucked.
