He slams the door to his bedroom and my cousin reappears, mocking me with a deliberate clapping.
“Well done.”
“Let it go, Scott. I don’t see you with anyone either. You can’t even break up with a fiancée properly.” Gathering my tools, I start to put them in the bag, then drop my scissors and rub my forehead again, in that migraine motion that seems to be a new habit. “It’s not every day I get invited to France.”
“What are you going to do, run off with Dane to the Louvre?” He sneers. “I thought you Christians didn’t act like that. You’re above the carnal nature, right?”
“Apparently, we’re not. Would that make you happy, to watch me screw up like my mother? It would prove so much to you about my faith, wouldn’t it?”
“Listen, if your religion helped you through your childhood, I have nothing against it. But look at what it's doing to you and Dane. You’re both tormenting yourselves. For what?”
“Maybe because we want to do things right. Giving into temptation did so much for you and Alexa.”
“Sarah!”
I feel horribly as soon as I say it. “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant that we’re both screw-ups and so what? I believe God is going to rescue me from my debauchery, because I’ve asked him to take it upon Himself. You’re hoping He’s not noticing. But it’s all right; I know you think I’m the stupid one.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid, Sarah. But I do think some people find religion but it has no bearing on their life.”
“So you think Dane and I are that way? You think we’re hypocrites?”
“You’ve known each other for less than a month. What are you doing, Sarah Claire? He’s not going to rescue you. Not going to take you away from the responsibility of your mother. That’s yours to own.”
I look up at Scott, my eyes wide. “I’ve known Dane for less than a month. It seems unimaginable. I feel like I've known him my whole life. I feel like I know what he’d do in an emergency, what he would read before bed, and what kind of future he wants. B—but really, I don’t know any of that, do I? All I know is what’s in my gut, and there’s no logic involved in that.
“Dane means well, Sarah, but he’s misguided in his ways. He thinks everyone wants to be live like him, live him. Alexa and I paid the price for that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I don’t mean anything.”
“You seem to be blaming Dane for you and Alexa.”
“Why don’t you just go to France? What’s it going to hurt? Dane has the money, and I imagine with his stimulating personality, paying for companionship is not all that odd of a thing for him. Factoid about eighteenth-century operettas, anyone?”
“How can you be so cruel?”
“Is my mother sitting in a local jail while you have anOut of Africa experience with Dane in my kitchen? I told you he was off-limits; you completely ignored that.So fine—do what you think is best.”
“Don’t make fun of me. I got caught up in something.” The realization stuns me. “Ann and Jaime have probably already called Yoshi. Maybe I should pack my bags and go to France. It beats Sable, and if I have a ticket out of here, France is by far the better option.”
“See, Sarah, you can’t trust someone because they say they’re a Christian. I’ve heard Ann say how her faith has changed her life. Please. I’ve never heard a truly sincere word out of that girl’s mouth. And the only reason she invited you over tonight was to get some rent out of you for her overpriced box of an apartment. Self-serving people ready with a sermon and their hand out.”
“I never heard Ann say she was a Christian, and I don’t care why she invited me. At least she invited me. Besides, that’s not why I trust Dane. Because he’s a Christian, I mean.”
“Nor should it be.”
The intercom buzzes frantically. I may not know Morse code, but I know that buzz is code for frantic. Scott pushes the button. “Yes?”
“Scott, it’s me. Flora Fawn. Can I come up?”
“Do all your clients’ names sound like porn stars?”
“Shh! She’ll hear you.” He pushes the button again. “Come on up.” Then he looks back at me. “Don’t you know who she is?”
“Let’s just say the visual I’m getting helps me. I imagine she knows Dr. Rey intimately?”
“She’s starring in the new Spielberg movie opposite Tom Hanks. She’s a legitimate actor, and she’s been on one of the hottest TV shows with a huge following.”
“Right. I’m going to bed.”
“Don’t you want to meet her? In six months you’re not going to have to make an appointment be able to get a glimpse of her.”
“They said that when Sable’s Rambles became the most popular bull in the PBR too. I think I’ve had enough of today. It’s time for it to end.”
“You’re really not going downtown to bail your mother out?”
“I’m really not. I’m going in my room to pray.”
I walk toward my room and shut my door before the elevator opens. As I lean against it, I wonder if Dane is imagining Paris as I am. Can he see us walking the Champs-Élysées like Rick and Ilsa? Or is it all, once again, just a figment of my overactive imagination? Which I have to admit is better than the facts: my mom’s here in jail, my would-be soul mate is locked away in his room with his hair half cut, and my best friend has gone crazy on me and can't decide whether to marry her own soul mate. Oh yeah, need reality like I need a hole in the head. Curse my Cary Grant fast!
chapter 19
Failure and its accompanying misery is for the
artist his most vital source of creative energy.
~ Montgomery Clift
The phone rings, but I’m deep into the Book of Romans, wondering what it must have been like for Paul the apostle to travel his whole life. He never really nested. I don’t think I could do that. I’m a nester by nature; is it my fault my mom just built it in the wrong place?
Scott breaks into my musings and bellows like I’m in the apartment a few blocks over. It’s nearly eleven! This house is Grand Central Station.
I pick up the line and am relieved to hear Kate’s voice. “Sarah Claire?”
I sigh my relief obnoxiously loud, just so she’ll know how much she’s annoyed me. What are friends for? “Kate, you hung up on me. What’s going on?”
“Sarah Claire, I’m not your mother. I’m fine. It’s me. I’ve made a decision. I talked to Marge. Prayed over it and everything. Speaking of which, have you gotten to church yet?”
“You don’t want to know. What’s this about Marge?” Marge was our boss and she’s pretty much what you’d think of as a Marge. Big hair, styled once back in 1979, and she liked it so much she never bothered to change it. Being the only salon in Sable for years, she unfortunately tainted the whole town with her version of styling. Big. Bigger. Perfect.
“. . . and Marge can handle the entire town of Sable’s thinning gray hair.” Kate’s been rambling for a moment now.
“What did you say?” I must be hearing things.
“I’m in a hotel in Hollywood.”
“Wait a minute, you can’t be here. You didn’t say you were here, here.”
“I did say that.”
“I just talked to you on the phone last night.”
“On my cell phone. I was at LAX when you called. Wow, what a fiasco that was.”
I feel betrayed. I feel betrayed for Ryan and for myself. “How could you not tell me you were coming? I would have met you at the airport. What is wrong with you? Does Ryan know about this?”
“I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
My heart clenches at the thought of Ryan waking up, bringing Kate some coffee, only to find she’s left town without warning. The night is gray and overcast with ocean fog, and I can’t help but think there are other things awry.
“Does your mother know?”
“Sarah Claire, I just needed to get away for a little while, okay? I have
n’t abandoned my whole life like you have.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in Hollywood at a hotel.”
“Actual Hollywood or just LA?”
“It says Hollywood on the keychain.”
“Is it a dump?”
“Hmm.” I can picture assessing the place. “Oh, yes, it's an incredible dump. I can see the outline of the person who was in the bed before me, and I’m just hoping they left here alive. And there’s dog hair on the sheets, which actually prefer to human hair. But there is no chalk outline of anyone, and for that I’m thankful.”
I slam my Bible shut. The world has gone crazy. “Are you nuts, Kate? I can’t afford for you to go nuts. You are my stability—now you’re going to start acting like my mother and just taking off when you feel like it? If you were planning to come, why didn’t you take a flight with me instead of scaring everyone half to death?”
“I’ve left Ryan, the Hideaway . . . my life, really. But I haven’t made any decisions about it being permanent.I needed to get away to breathe. I can’t breathe there. With all the wedding plans and the ladies at church coordinating every detail of my future, I thought I’d burst.”
The world’s gone mad, I say.
“Who’s washing and setting Mrs. Gentry tomorrow?”
“Is that all you worry about? The salon? People’s hair? My life was being written for me, Sarah Claire. Did you like that when people did it to you? When they told you what kind of person you were, whether it was true or not?”
“Of course not, but I’m worried about your fine specimen of a fiancé who is right now at home, worried sick. Or he will be when he finds out what you did. What do you mean you’ve left Ryan? If you’re going to leave someone you have to actually tell them. It’s the rule.”
“He wouldn’t listen.”
I try to hold back my Duh here. “Yeah, any sane person would have told you this was a hare-brained stunt. What are you doing here? And why am I suddenly so popular that the town of Sable is immigrating to California?”
“I was coloring Mrs. Rampas’s hair and she told me how lucky I was to be marrying Ryan, what a kind and gentle soul he was, and that someday he’d own the town and give your daddy a run for his money.”
“And this is bad because . . . ?” I mean, should I mention that the man I have a pending date with is only around because I’m too big of a wimp to say no—both to espresso and his pushy, buff self? And that the man I do want to date is in the next room with really bad hair and a lingering invitation to France. That I, who had a desperate need to coif Hollywood, am suddenly wanting to learn more about antiques so I might appear brighter to his suit-clad, hot self?
Kate is still talking. “. . . I realized even the best life in Sable isn’t what I want, Sarah Claire. It took you leaving to realize that without you, I’ve got nothing there.”
“I’m asking how you found all this out now. You couldn’t have figured this out when I was planning my trip?”
“When you were planning your trip, I was planning to take over your clients at the salon. I was too busy to realize I didn’t want to stay either. I just took my grandmother’s money, kissed my mother good-bye, and took off.”
I crash back on the bed. “Explain this to Ryan, Kate. He’d go wherever you want to go. I know he would. He said so.”
“No,” she squeals. “You of all people should understand. Do you want to be what everyone in Sable expects you to be?”
“Well, everyone in town expects me to be the town whore, so I’m thinking no. But you’re supposed to be the town’s matriarch; somehow that seems better. Call me crazy. Ryan’s collecting cows for you. You know that old story about the wife being worthy of ten cattle and how the guy pays more for the ugly bride because he wants her to feel worthy of ten cows? You know that story? That’s totally you.”
“Sarah Claire, quit it with the cows, will you?”
I shrug. “It’s a good story. I want to be worth ten cows.”
“Ryan is still old school. Once he even said he wouldn’t have asked me to marry him if he’d known I had desires like you.” She pauses before continuing, I suppose so I can grasp that Ryan thinks I’m scum too. “That you were going to end up like your mother, chasing a rainbow.”
“Ryan said that about me?” Okay, I might want to pull back my support until I know more. “Ryan said that?”
“He didn’t mean it rudely. He said he didn’t want an ambitious wife; he wanted one who would stay home and be satisfied in raising a family.”
“Well, that’s fair. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“It is fair, Sarah Claire. Only when you left, I realized it wasn’t what I wanted at all. I mean, it is what I want, but I don’t want it with Ryan.”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “Kate, I have nothing else. I’m here fantasizing about my roommate and covering it up with thoughts on the Apostle Paul’s travels. I’m pathetic, so I have to ask, are you certain about this?”
“I’m in a seedy motel on Franklin in Hollywood. I’m sure.”
“I don’t want it to be too late for you.”
“The idea of ending up like Mrs. Rampas, Mrs. Piper, and even Mrs. Gentry scared the daylights out of me. What if my highlight for the week was getting my hair washed at the Hideaway? He wouldn’t want me to work, Sarah Claire. He’d want me to have kids. Right away. The right man makes those things desirable. They’re not desirable to me, and I had to stop and ask why while people were telling me about wedding menus and flower choices. I got more and more frightened.”
“How do you know for sure? How do you know you’re not just chasing a dream like Ryan says I am? You have a choice to be a Mrs. Rampas. I don’t. What if you left your soul mate?”
“You’re a lot of help. I had a huge compulsion to run and I ran. Would I have a compulsion if he was my soul mate?”
“You might. You can be impulsive.”
“I supported you, right? When everyone laughed at your idea of coming out here, I said no, she’ll be fabulous! She’ll make it because she’s Sarah Claire.”
My chest heaves with a sigh. “You did support me. But I left my mother. You left Ryan!”
“So I have better taste than you. I always did.”
“Kate . . .” I rake my hand though my hair. “My mother’s in jail here because she did something at the airport. I have no idea what yet. Scott is feeling crowded, and my job at Yoshi’s is anything but secure—how can you choose right now to become unstable?”
“Did I ask you for anything?”
This feels like a slap across the cheek. “Well, no, but I can hardly let you stay in that dump.”
“Sarah Claire, my grandmother’s money is now well over twenty-five thousand dollars. I can stay anywhere I want. If I wanted to head to the Wilshire, I could. But you know, I passed the Chinese theatre, the Galleria, the Roosevelt, and I didn’t want to leave Hollywood. I wanted to experience it, so here I am. There was no one to tell me it was a stupid idea, and I did what I wanted to do. It’s powerful, you know?”
“Couldn’t you have experienced it at the Roosevelt?”
“They were full.”
“Can you use some of that money to take classes at Yoshi’s?”
“No, Sarah Claire. That’s your shot. I’m going to use my money and play at the beach for a time, figure out what I want to do with my life. Maybe I’ll go to college. Who knows? Do you think I’d be a good coed?”
I feel myself start to tear up because Kate was who I always wanted to be, and here she is mimicking my train wreck of a life. “Kate, can you come here at least? Scott won’t mind.”
“If you’re going to do that weird thing where you look in my eyes to see if I’m telling the truth, I am. I’m young, Sarah Claire. I don’t want my life laid out for me I at twenty-six. I think I might go to college, major in something people would never expect of me. Maybe engineering.”
“Engineering? Gosh, I want my life laid out for
me.” look at the door and imagine my roommate. “In fact, if Dane came in here right now and said the elevator could take us to another era . . . if he whisked me away to a new life, I’d totally go.”
“You would not.”
“He wears a fedora. I totally would. He makes me believe it could work with a have, know what I’m saying?”
“What’s a have? He wears a hat and you’re going to bet your life on him? Maybe you should just call Al now and get a deposit in on your first bail bond.”
This makes me laugh out loud. “Dang, I missed you. Get over here. Who do you think you are coming into the town where I’m living and not seeing me, you little snot.”
She laughs too.
“I just don’t want you ending up like your mother ’cuz a guy wears a hat, know what I’m saying?”
“My mother ended up the way she did because she had an amazing ability to throw back a vodka tonic, not a hat fetish.”
“Sarah Claire, you’re here to be the next Vidal Sassoon.... Focus!”
“Exactly what Scott said. Go back home, Kate. Not before you see me, but go back home. It’s not what you think here. It’s like sitting outside one big popular table in high school. Everyone who was homecoming queen or head cheerleader is here trying to make a living out of being beautiful. Go back home where the people are real. Where the traffic reports are not six minutes long but consist of ‘Joey Billing’s truck broke down again on Rocky Road. Stop and give him a jump if you can.’”
Kate’s still giggling. “I need to try it, all right?” She pauses. “Wait a minute, back up. In the midst of you and your elevator fantasies, did you say your mom was here? Here in California?”
“Yeah, we know she got arrested for using false ID at LAX, but we’re not sure why or where she is just yet. They arrested her in my coworker’s hallway. She’d left the false ID with them. At least that’s as much of the story as they’ll tell me on the phone.” Granted, I haven’t exactly scoured the town for her yet. “Their police department called the sheriff when he found out there was an arrest warrant, so I got most of the story from back home.”
I look at the clock.
Split Ends Page 20
