Lilac Avenue

by Pamela Grandstaff

  “Let’s get one thing straight right now,” Claire said. “This hair will never be gray and this face will never be wrinkled; not while I’ve got a dime in the bank.”

  “Tell me your secrets,” Ed said. “I can handle them, I promise.”

  “There are things I’m not proud of,” Claire said. “I’m not sure you’ll understand.”

  “I’m not naive,” Ed said. “Whatever has happened in the past made you the wonderful person you are now. We’ve all made mistakes.”

  Ed’s phone buzzed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really have to get this.”

  The music changed to Annie Lennox performing “Why.” It reminded Claire of arriving in Los Angeles with Pip. At the time Claire had not been able to afford the additional cosmetology training she needed to become licensed there, and a strip joint down the street from their ratty apartment had been the only place willing to hire her without it. They didn’t care if she had a license or not, as long as she could make all the strippers look just like movie stars.

  That club was where she had met Sloan, back then known by her real name, Tammy Jo Hogsett. Tammy Jo, made hard and calculating by a horrific childhood, had for some reason taken a shine to Claire, and took her under her wing. She made sure all the girls paid Claire in cash up front for doing their hair and makeup, and had once pulled a knife on a customer who mistook Claire for a working girl.

  How could she tell Ed that story?

  Claire had been terrified of Los Angeles and hated working at the strip club. The part of the city in which they could afford to live was noisy, dirty, and the locals were frequently violent. She was disgusted by the drunken men who yelled demeaning things at the women while they danced, and the day-to-day drama behind the scenes could get violent in a flash.

  Some of the strippers were good people stuck in a bad situation, and Claire got along well with most of them. She quickly learned not to loan anyone money and she refused to try the drugs the addicts offered, even though they made fun of her. She turned down the free drinks offered by the club bartenders, remembering her father’s warnings about drugs being slipped into them. If her father, the chief of police in Rose Hill, had known where she was working, he would have driven out there, put her in the car, and brought her straight home. Although she had been tempted many times to call him to come get her, she was too ashamed for him to know what she was doing.

  That song ended and “Mysterious Ways” by U2 began. It was popular the summer Tammy Jo left the club to work as a dominatrix for a shady guy named Sergio. During that time she rented a room to Claire and Pip, who was doing odd jobs in construction work. Pip acted as if he hated Tammy Jo, when in fact, as Claire found out much later, they had begun an affair that lasted many years.

  After she got tired of punishing powerful men for a living, Tammy Jo moved on to starring in pornographic films for a really sweet former client, a producer named Vincent, who was madly in love with her and promised to make her a star. Claire ran errands and did Tammy Jo’s hair and makeup, but she avoided the shoot sets as much as possible. It was a sleazy atmosphere. Although the film crew, actors, and actresses were all comfortable with the sex, drugs, and drinking that accompanied every shoot, Claire never got used to it. Vincent called her “my little nun,” because she was so straight-laced. Claire was more scared than principled; she was just afraid of what might happen if she let down her guard for one minute.

  Vincent let Pip and Claire live in his pool house, and Pip worked for him as a handyman. Pip and Claire were both paid in cash, lots of cash, and it was fun to have enough money to do anything they wanted. Claire bought a bright red sports car and Pip bought a pimped out pickup truck. Claire had a blast buying jewelry, clothes, shoes, and handbags; anything that caught her eye. They furnished the pool house with new furniture and expensive electronics. Pip became addicted to video games, and played late into the night while Claire watched the late night television talk shows. They turned into night people, and rarely woke before noon.

  Claire couldn’t imagine telling Ed about the time she had to call the police because, right outside the pool house, a drug dealer was beating up one of Vincent’s actresses over not paying for her drugs, and not being willing to trade sex for them instead. The poor girl had sobbed in Claire’s kitchen while Pip held the dealer at knifepoint on the patio until the cops arrived.

  The song “Fade Into You” by Mazzy Starr began to play, which reminded Claire of the period after Sloan got her Actors Equity card, when she moved on from sweet little Vincent, and began her climb through the film industry, from producer to producer, each one more connected and powerful than the former. Vincent, who had paid for all the plastic surgery that turned Tammy Jo into Sloan Merryweather, was so heartbroken he drove his Lamborghini off a cliff.

  Like Mary’s little lamb, everywhere Sloan went Claire was coaxed to follow, and paid what seemed at the time like an amazing amount of money, under the auspices of being Sloan’s personal assistant/makeup artist/hairdresser. Claire and Pip left Vincent’s pool house to move into the guest house of Sloan’s new home in Laurel Canyon. There was a party every night Sloan was at home.

  Ostensibly working on renovations, Pip was actually the one who arranged for all the party favors, which included any liquor or recreational drug that could be purchased in Los Angeles. He happily joined in all the festivities while Claire watched from the sidelines, jealousy eating away at her like a cancer. It was there that Claire learned to like champagne, and there was an endless amount to be had. It helped her care less.

  Claire, suspicious about with whom her husband was fooling around and how safe he was being, started sleeping in a separate bedroom. Pip, surrounded by starlets and high all the time, didn’t seem to notice, let alone mind. Lonely, starved for affection, and worn down by the non-stop party atmosphere, Claire let herself become infatuated with a handsome, charismatic actor. She didn’t mean anything to him, other than a pleasant way to kill time. As with all mistakes such as this, that, too, had ended in tears.

  “High and Dry” by Radiohead began to play. Why did music have the power to take you right back to where you were when you loved the song? She had turned it up and sang along as she drove Sloan’s convertible home from the beach, the handsome actor in the passenger seat. Claire had thought she was happy that day. How could she have been happy? She was infatuated with a man who didn’t love her, and she was pretending that her husband having sex with a different woman every night didn’t bother her. That’s just how it is out here, she’d tell herself. There are different rules in show business.

  Why did she stay? By nature, Claire was not a party girl, promiscuous, or tempted by drugs and alcohol. A small-town girl at heart, she was terrified of the big city and the vice and violence that was so much a part of the culture. But Claire loved the money, and enjoyed spending it with abandon, to the point that she didn’t think twice about spending a few thousand dollars on a handbag or a pair of shoes. But also, and more importantly, there was Sloan’s relationship to her, which was compelling, albeit in an unhealthy way.

  For a long time, Claire believed that Sloan was afraid to be alone, and that in an industry full of liars and users, Claire was the only person Sloan could trust. During the first few years, she also believed in Sloan’s ambition, and wanted to help her become famous. Sloan had a way of convincing Claire that it was them against the world, and that when she finally made it, Claire would be there to share the success they had both worked so hard to attain. The frequent and generous increases in the amount of money she was willing to pay Claire seemed to validate that promise.

  Unfortunately, the more famous and powerful Sloan became, the more mean and vindictive she became. Claire, who had always felt sorry for Sloan because of her horrible upbringing, continually made excuses for her, even as Sloan betrayed everyone who got close to her, one after another. For some stupid reason, Claire thought Sloan would never betray her the way she did everyone else. Sh
e thought she was special.

  “Here With Me,” by Dido, was now playing downstairs. It reminded her of the summer she found out Pip and Sloan were having an affair. Even though, by that point, she and Pip were more roommates than lovers, it had felt like a major betrayal, because it was with Sloan.

  By that summer, Claire had grown tired of witnessing the carnage wrought by Sloan and her rabid ambition, but this betrayal made her realize how very little she meant to Sloan beyond what she could do for her. As it turned out, Sloan’s insistence on keeping Claire close really had more to do with how much she feared what Claire knew about her past. Obviously Claire’s loyalty could be bought, because she stayed after that, and was paid well to keep her mouth shut. How could she explain that to Ed without looking like the shallow person she most assuredly must have been?

  Claire thought about the time she flew to the East Coast to see Sam when he came back from the war, injured and depressed. They had corresponded while he was deployed, and over time had become emotionally close. Seeing Sam broken to the point of being lost, she had finally gained the courage to leave Pip and Sloan in order to help him. Unfortunately, the two of them had colluded to tie her up in a financial mess that would have ruined her and her parents, so she couldn’t leave. By the time Claire was free, Hannah was in love with Sam, so Claire had wished them well.

  How could she tell Ed about that? Or about her dalliance with a young independent film director whom Sloan had driven into a nervous breakdown? Or about the affair with Carlysle? In all those instances Claire believed she was acting as her heart dictated, but in retrospect she should have known those relationships were doomed in the long term.

  A wave of nausea came over her and she broke out in a cold sweat. What if she were pregnant with Carlysle’s child? She could keep it a secret; he would never have to know. She tried to picture a child with the combination of their facial features, but couldn’t visualize the result. If this potential son looked like her side of the family and was funny and clever like his, that child would be amazing. If on the other hand, this potential daughter looked like him and was impulsive, emotional, and restless like her … Claire chided herself for being so shallow. Any child she bore she’d love and think amazing, no matter what it looked like. Had being pretty made her life the least bit easier? Well, she admitted to herself, it had often come in handy.

  Ed put down his phone, once again apologizing for using it.

  “So, tell me,” he said. “What are Claire Fitzpatrick’s deep dark secrets?”

  “I guess you wouldn’t be willing to sign a confidentiality agreement,” Claire said.

  “I’d sign anything you put in front of me,” Ed said. “But here’s what we’ll do instead: I’ll trust you, and you trust me.”

  “Then let’s start with something pretty dramatic and see how you do,” Claire said. “I took a pregnancy test today, and there’s a slim chance it may be positive.”

  Ed looked at her, eyes wide, speechless for a moment. Then he took both her hands in his and smiled at her in such a kind, compassionate way that it brought tears to her eyes.

  “Whatever else we might become, right now we’re friends,” he said. “Whatever the outcome, we’ll figure it out together.”

  Tears fell from Claire’s eyes and she shook her head.

  “You don’t know me,” she said. “You think you do, but you really don’t.”

  Ed put his arms around her as she cried. It felt good, but at the same time, it didn’t feel like she had a right to that feeling. He didn’t really know whom he held in his arms. Until he did, she didn’t think she could accept what he was offering.

  Downstairs they were playing “Something So Strong” by Crowded House. It reminded Claire of a slumber party she had at her house, when she was fourteen years old, with Maggie, Hannah, and their friend Caroline Eldridge.

  They had gone to the Bijou to see The Princess Bride. Afterward Maggie and Claire were swooning over Wesley while Caroline and Hannah re-enacted the duel between Wesley and Inigo Montoya. It had been a fun party, where they ate junk food and drank cold bottles of soda pop; eventually they all fell asleep on the floor in the living room, wrapped up in sleeping bags. Claire felt a sort of peace come over her just remembering how that felt, to be with her best friends in her parents’ house, laughing so hard her stomach hurt the next day. She missed that feeling.

  “You are so good to me,” Claire said. “I don’t deserve it.”

  Ed kissed her. It was everything a kiss should be, and Claire wanted it to go on forever. They only stopped because someone nearby cleared her throat. It was Sister Mary Margrethe.

  “I don’t know how you do things in your church,” she said in a stern voice. “But at Sacred Heart, that kind of thing is frowned upon outside the bonds of holy matrimony.”

  “This doesn’t seem real,” Maggie said to Scott. “Does it feel real to you?”

  They were dancing while “Something So Strong,” by Crowded House, played.

  “It feels like the best day of my life,” he said.

  “Thank you for hanging in there with me,” Maggie said. “I wouldn’t have put up with my bullshit for two minutes.”

  “Which means you’re not in love with yourself,” Scott said. “That’s one of the many qualities I love about you.”

  “Well, whatever the mental defect is that makes you think all my faults are good qualities, I hope it never gets cured.”

  “We were meant to be,” Scott said. “That’s all.”

  “I’m a little surprised you didn’t go all religious on me today,” Maggie said.

  “I do feel the presence of God in this church,” Scott said. “Don’t you?”

  “Oh, no,” Maggie said. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  “Don’t you feel it?”

  “I feel happy,” Maggie said. “Despite the people who usually irritate the hell out of me. Today, everyone gets a pass.”

  “That’s all I’m talking about.”

  “It’s gonna wear off, though,” she said. “It probably has something to do with the dress.”

  “That dress is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Do you think you could wear it for me once a month or something?”

  “We’ll see,” Maggie said. “If you behave yourself and don’t talk too much about Jesus.”

  “But it would be a blessing to me,” Scott said. “You pray about it, let me know.”

  “Don’t start,” Maggie said.

  Scott embraced Maggie tighter and looked over her shoulder at everyone.

  Maggie’s father Fitz’s eyes were bloodshot and his face was red, but her brother Sean had him under surveillance. At the first sign that he was inspired to croon a sad Irish ballad, Scott had no doubt Sean would hustle him homeward.

  Scott’s former boss, Ian Fitzpatrick, was looking forlorn and confused. Kay was sitting next to him, talking to him. Scott missed the chief he used to know, who would have been both proud and loud at this wedding. Over the years, he had listened patiently many times as Scott professed his unrequited love for Maggie, and had always given him the same advice: “what’s yours won’t pass you by.” Now that Maggie was his, poor Ian wouldn’t be able to remember any of their past conversations.

  Scott looked around for Claire and Ed but they were absent. He hoped they were together somewhere, being sweet to each other. It would be so great if that worked out. He knew Ed was smitten, but Claire’s feelings were a mystery to them both. She seemed interested, but part of her still seemed far away from Rose Hill, as if she had one foot in her other life. Maggie said it was just a matter of her settling in, but Scott was not so sure she ever would. She had been gone so long; she’d had a whole other life apart from them, in a much more glamorous world than theirs. It might be hard for her to settle down to such a small town way of life.

  Small town life suited Scott very well, he knew without a doubt. He could hold the entire permanent population of Rose Hill in his head; he knew ev
eryone, along with their foibles, secrets, and vices, but today they seemed like the best people in the world. If your car broke down along the side of the road, two or three neighbors, passing by in their own cars, would immediately stop to help. When his mother was sick and dying, and after she did die, there had been a steady stream of kindness flowing over the whole ordeal, delivered by people he’d known all his life. The trade-off for all this fellowship was precious little privacy, but Scott still felt it was a worthwhile exchange.

  “Let’s sit,” Maggie said. “I’m hungry.”

  Scott followed her as she got a plate of wedding cake, and then went back to their table, where Patrick and Melissa were seated. Melissa was leaning back against Patrick, who had his arms around her. As he tenderly kissed her on the neck, Melissa smiled a sweet, happy, contented smile.

  “Hey, there’s the newlyweds,” Patrick said.

  “Y’all looked so sweet out there dancing,” Melissa said.

  “Why aren’t you two dancing?” Scott asked her.

  “I’m plumb tuckered out,” Melissa said. “Bonnie’s had me working since two o’clock this morning.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Maggie said. “The cake turned out beautifully.”

  “I was glad to help,” Melissa said. “That’s the happiest I ever seen your mama. She didn’t have a cross word to say to nobody this morning.”

  Kay came over to the table with Sal Delvecchio. Sal was a tiny man, with a deeply wrinkled face, a gray paleness and the sunken eyes and cheeks of a serious illness. Over his shoulder hung a canister of oxygen attached by a long tube to a canula in his nose. Scott jumped up and pulled out a chair so the older man could sit.

  When Kay hugged Scott, there were tears in her eyes.

  “I am so happy for you two,” she said. “I feel like God has blessed you both today.”

  “Thank you,” Scott said. “I’m so glad you could be here.”

  “Don’t ever forget,” Sal said, although it was a laborious process for him to speak. “Happy wife, happy life.”