They are all reflections of who I am. An outsider peering in on the Rachels. The mystery of Daria on the bench, a faceless woman. The arm of a kid trying to draw his own magic into the world. Ms. Gray, with those unflinching eyes of the truth. A boy standing at the window, draped in shadow. And lastly, a little girl clinging to the hem of a pale pink dress.
CHAPTER 37
SPILLING THE DIRT
As we walk down Bedford, Richard takes a phone call. His calm, lilting tone is a dead giveaway he’s talking to his boyfriend, Julian. I flash back to the funeral, when his long fingers on the piano mesmerized me.
As Daria tells me about the people who are going to attend tomorrow, I start to drown her out. She says something about Orlando not coming, and I basically ignore her and get right to the point.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” she says, rooting around in her purse.
“Why are you doing all this for me?”
Richard tells us to hold on and walks into a deli. Daria stares at me, serious, and says, “What do you mean?”
“It’s not because of my father, or …”
“Babe, no offense, but I couldn’t care less about your father. I just …” She lights a cigarette and blows it in the direction of the river, then turns back to me. “I lost my mother too, and I didn’t have any, you know, female guidance, and …”
Now I feel bad for even doubting her.
“… your pictures, well, they speak for themselves.”
I smile and hug her. She feels skinny enough to crack.
“Thanks.”
Richard comes out and says, “You girls want to join me at Peter Luger’s for an old-school steak? I made a reservation.”
At the mention of meat, Daria’s face turns into a frown. “I’ve got a drinks thing, but you two go, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” She ruffles my hair and says, “See you tomorrow night!”
Richard grabs my hand as we walk and says, “I had no idea you were that talented. I’m inviting everyone I know in New York. Which is four people.”
I laugh. I know he knows more, but I’m sure the four he chooses will be characters. Those are the kinds of people Richard surrounds himself with.
The restaurant is very simple, but there’s an element of class. I feel underdressed next to Richard in his linen shirt. He orders a martini and I get a Coke. It’s early, and there are only a few tables occupied. We catch up about the usual stuff during our salad course, and then I decide to chip away at the veneer.
“Mom kept a diary for me. Well, she had started one.”
“Really? Her book was written in diary format as well.”
“Well, I hope it wasn’t like this one.”
“How do you mean?”
“It was weird, not like her. It had a very soft focus. I assume it had something to do with falling in love with Cole.” I mention his name casually, like he was my hairstylist or something. Richard tries to hide his amazement.
“Tell me something, what was it about Cole?”
He coughs a little but doesn’t respond. I know he knows about Cole, because my mother told Richard everything.
Our steak arrives, medium rare. It looks amazing, but suddenly I’ve lost my appetite.
“Okay, I’m just going to open the floodgates here. I found Mom’s phone. There were seven messages. Through listening to them and following where they took me, I learned a lot, but I lost the phone before I could really listen to the last message. How about we make a deal? I’ll tell you everything I know, and you tell me the rest. And I know you know the rest.”
“I’m going to need a refill,” Richard says, holding up his martini.
“And I also seem to recall you speaking with a raised voice to my father the morning after the funeral.…”
He finishes his drink and sort of smiles. “I’m not sure it’s my place. Shouldn’t you be having this conversation with your father?”
“Well, he’s not around right now, and I’m sick of being lied to.”
Richard neatly cuts a tiny piece of fat off his steak and moves it to the corner of his plate. “You know what? You deserve to know everything. And from the depth of your photography, and the way you’ve taken things upon yourself, I fear you’re ready.”
“I just want to know the whole truth.”
“Okay, tell me what you know.”
As I fill him in on everything, I slowly get my appetite back. He listens intently, looking at me with a newfound respect, even when I take breaks to eat my steak.
“The thing you need to know, Big Girl, is Marion was never one for indiscretions. They were more like soul mates. She wanted to leave, but it was killing her. I know it sounds strange, but she really never wanted to betray or hurt your father.”
“When did it start?”
More people get seated around us and Richard lowers his voice a little. “They first met when she was pregnant with Tile. She wasn’t showing yet, and it was basically the last shoot of her career, in Capri. I joined her there … Cole was the skipper on the yacht where the photo shoot took place. I hate to say it, but Cole is a good person. He never wanted to hurt your family either. As a matter of fact, he tried to cut off their friendship a few times, sensing the direction it was heading in. Years later it turned romantic, but not all the time. Being the gentleman he is, your father forgave her. She promised not to see Cole again. Then things got heavy—there was escalation in the weeks leading up to her death.”
I remember the awkward moment Tile caught on video.
“The night she died, she went to dinner with Cole, and lied to your father. She called me that afternoon.” He pauses and sips his drink, his eyes fighting back tears. “She told me she was going to end it with Cole once and for all.”
The waiter collects what is left of our steaks. A moment later they deliver our preordered soufflé.
“Was my father there?”
Richard remains silent, a pained look on his face. I stare at our soufflé, crumbling into itself at a sad pace.
“Do you think she was really going to leave Dad?”
He sips his martini and looks out the window, then back at me. His dark eyes are kind but tinged with regret.
“I can’t really answer that, Big Girl.”
It’s hard to get to sleep. Thoughts of my mother, and all the things she had hidden away from me, fill my head. What was it about Cole that made her turn her back on her family? I know it’s crazy, but there has to be more to find out.
I get up and go to the window, expecting to see the same pulled curtain in Oliver’s, but I see a figure darting away, as if wishing not to be caught. Was he looking for me? I feel that familiar blast of rage in my gut. How could he be so shallow as to fall into the clutches of Rachel One? Yes, she is pretty. Duh. But we had so much more! I felt connected to him in ways that run deeper than Birkin bags filled with designer hair products.
I stay at the window, trying to tempt him back, but he is lost in the shadows.
CHAPTER 38
RED DOORMAT, RED PHONE
In the morning we are one big family, minus my dad. Richard and Elise are hitting it off, discussing the latest David Sedaris book. Tile’s working on his treatment in his little notebook. I pour us all granola and cut up some fruit. Although I want to feel like I’m in the right place, something’s missing. A small gap left by something other than my mother, but I can’t put my finger on it. The last message, Oliver, my father, all out of my grasp even though I’m about to have my own photography opening. After a few moments we are all calm and quiet, thinking our own thoughts. I hear a crack of thunder in the sky outside and close my eyes for a second. This is where it all begins.
I overhear Elise as she calls to excuse me from school, and am quite impressed by her authoritative tone. Richard takes Tile to school and she and I clean up. How does it become this easy? How come I am calm and at ease with this person who is not my mother? I am not sure, but after the dishes
are dried and put away I feel that sinking feeling again. The place that Marion Clover used to fill. Model, writer … adulterer?
When Elise leaves I follow her out and sit on the stoop while she waits for a cab.
“I’m sorry I can’t come tonight,” she says. “I’m afraid I’ve got a crazy aunt to contend with. But I will make sure Tile gets there.” A cab pulls over and she turns toward me and sort of bows a little. “You will be great, I’m sure of it.”
As the cab leaves I stare across the street at Oliver’s front door for what could be an hour. I still can’t wrap my mind around why he would do such a thing. I think about leaving an invite on his doorstep, but the thought is fleeting, like our time together. Still, it was so good, so perfect, like the best bite of a sandwich, the middle part where all the flavors blend in harmony. Now all I’ve got is rice cakes.
I tell myself to snap out of it. This is my day. A launch at the hippest gallery in Brooklyn! How many fifteen-year-olds have that?
I take the folded-up guest list out of my pocket and my eyes scan it. Most of the celebrities are pretty random, but I recognize some names. If I could add one more, it would be Drew Barrymore. She was so nice to me when I met her that rainy afternoon. I think she’d like the photos, too. I take a deep breath, brace myself, and call Christy, my dad’s publicist.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Luna, photography It-girl on the rise.”
“That’s me. Listen, I know it’s super-last-minute, but I wondered if Drew Barrymore was still—”
“On speed dial? Yes.”
“Do you think you could …”
“If she’s in town, consider it done.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you going to be red-carpet ready?”
As it turns out, the red carpet is more of a red doormat. But there is a long rope, and about ten photojournalists. Once word spread that I was the daughter of Jules Clover, a buzz was created. I am not so delusional to think any of this would be happening if I weren’t the daughter of Jules Clover, but what am I supposed to do, turn away from opportunities of a lifetime? I think not. The goal is for them to see it’s more than just nepotism that got me here. Before we get out of the car, Richard squeezes my hand and says, “Teeth.” I show him and he replies, “Splendid. I’m afraid you’re no longer my big girl. You’re a woman. Hear you roar.…”
The flashes start as I leave the car and are constant. I turn around and look back at the camera like Kate Winslet would’ve done. It’s all over the top, bright lights flashing. I am elated, but nothing could be better than what I see when I finally enter the space: Tile in a tuxedo. Even though I see him every day, I can’t think of what to say.
“Your dress seems to be getting a lot of attention,” he says.
“What about the pictures?”
“One-of-a-kind.”
I smile and tell him he looks stunning. He bows a little in response.
I walk around like I’m just another attendee, but I have a secret. In the corner of the gallery is a stairway that leads into a brick wall like a dream cut short, and I can’t help but think of my mother. She would be proud of me, I know that.
I stand on the fourth step and scan the room.
Ms. Gray gasps at every picture even though she’s seen them all. Her pudgy, balding date looks really bored. I love her to death, but she does need to buy some clothes from this century.
Janine is with her mother, who already seems a little tipsy.
Richard lets Tile have a sip of his punch. I secretly watch the two of them comment on my photographs, pretending to be art intellectuals or something. It’s pretty cute.
Janine ditches her mom and comes up the stairs.
She points at the wall and says, “So much for a stairway to heaven.”
“I need a stairway somewhere. It sounds weird, but I just really want to get out of here, go to Italy, and try to work some stuff out in my head. I haven’t asked Dad or Richard yet, but I’m going to. This show, I’m so psyched about it, but it came at such a crazy time, you know?”
“Duh. I think you’re in a good space, considering. You handle stuff so easily.”
“Well, I’m trying.”
“Oh, look! Yummers.”
The food looks really delicious: little canapés and blue cheese–stuffed mushrooms, lamb skewers. But I can’t eat. Everyone congratulates me, and I feel like it’s my wedding or something. I have a smile plastered to my face. After a while I go outside for some air.
I get past the smokers and go down the block out of sight.
I am staring at some steam billowing out from a grate in the street when I hear a familiar voice.
“Hey girl, I found something of yours.”
It’s Levi, and he’s holding my mother’s phone in his open palm.
My heart freezes for an instant and I say the words Oh my god but no sound comes out.
“The couch in our office, it eats things. I figured it was yours ’cause I went through the pictures.”
“Oh, okay, thank you.” I didn’t even think to go through the pictures before!
“How’s the show?”
“Overwhelming, but I owe you big-time. I’m not sure it would’ve happened without your help.”
He waves his hand like it was nothing.
“You can just send me checks when you’re rich.”
I stare at the phone as if it magically dropped from a tree. Levi realizes I need to be alone and says, “See you inside.” As he walks away, he turns around and adds, “Nice dress!”
I frantically call voice mail and sure enough, that mechanical voice I’ve come to know so well says, “To listen to your messages, press one.”
It’s my father, and he’s slurring his words.
“I can see you, why are you still lying to me? I’m right here—”
In the background, I hear cars and what seems like screeching brakes. Then he gets cut off. I shudder and start walking down the alley. I think I’ve just heard my mother die.
The message loops over and over again in my head. There was something in his voice … I’ve never heard my dad so … desperate. Well, at least I know for sure now. He was there. He watched her die. As much as I want to kill him, a small part of me feels sorry for him. Here was a woman he always loved, who he had to fight for, who not only betrayed him, but whose death he had to witness.
I grab my dress into bunches and turn around, walking faster. I have to talk to my father and get to the bottom of this. The only problem is, my father isn’t here yet.
I stop for a moment under a dim streetlight. I’m still wondering why, if my dad was in fact there when she died, he would keep it from me.
I know I must look strange, standing on Bedford in a gown by myself. I see a man across the street, looking at the numbers on the buildings, obviously confused. It takes me a minute to realize it’s my father. Even though I am furious with him, his presence makes my heart leap a little. The last I heard, he was stuck in L.A. and was definitely not coming.
“Dad! I thought you …”
He turns, and his face scrunches when he sees the dress.
“Are you kidding me? I had to borrow the studio’s plane, but I made it. One question, though. Where the heck is this place?”
I point it out. “Can’t you tell from the red doormat?”
He smiles and pulls me into him. After he lets me go, I say, “Dad, I know everything. I know what happened when Mom died. I know you were there. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He adjusts his tie and sighs.
“Are we really doing this now?”
“Yes.”
He puts down his bag and walks in a small circle.
“I didn’t want to burden you with all of it.”
His eyes start to get glassy.
“Moon, you know how much I loved your mother … she was, well, everything to me. But apparently I wasn’t enough for her. She always said I got too lost in my work, and I didn’t take the time to really appreciat
e her.” He starts to actually cry, which is kind of contagious. “But I did, Moon. And the whole thing with Cole, I didn’t want you to know because I was embarrassed. I was terrified that you would …”
I stop him by giving him a long, hard hug.
“Just don’t lie to me, Dad. You’re all I have.”
“I know, Moon. I won’t, I promise. You know, this last year I kept blaming myself. But more importantly, I’ve forgiven her. I never got to tell her that, Moon. And being with Elise … I don’t know if I can do it. I feel so guilty all the time, I just want to move on. Thankfully I’ve had this film to consume me, but it’s over now.…”
I turn him toward the entrance of the gallery and we stand there for a few minutes, looking at the red doormat, the stylish people mingling inside the windows.
“Well, for now we have to get our act together. I want you to forget about everything, have some punch, and look at your daughter’s photographs.”
He puts his hands on both of my cheeks, which makes me blush.
“You know, I’ve been a fan of your work since you were five. Have you seen the walls of my office?”
I don’t have to answer. As we get closer to the entrance, I remember something I wanted to tell him. I stop him just before the door.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I like Elise. She’s good people.”
He gives me a skeptical look.
“Don’t give up on her yet,” I whisper to him as we enter the gallery doors.
The event seems to have come even more alive. Ambient music is playing; people are chatting loosely. Les walks up to me and whispers something in my ear. I can’t hear him, so he says it again really loud.
“We’re going to need our own lab to make all the prints that have already been ordered.”
“Really?”
He looks animated. The cool artsy demeanor has vanished, and now he’s a giddy schoolboy. I’m wondering how this could be, and then the answer comes, in the form of a tipsy Daria, locking her arm into his. So that was her agenda. A date with Les. Why a stunning model with legs that reach the sky would pine over a mousy gallery owner with green glasses is beyond me, but I’ve stopped trying to form explanations for things. Life is complicated.
You Have Seven Messages Page 14
