Karen, by the way, postulates that this little adventure may be some sort of you getting in touch with your sexuality romantic getaway. Did I do anything to make you believe that it would be necessary to run away for that?
Well, I suppose that’s immaterial, as I don’t believe that explanation, because I do actually believe that you told me the truth in your note. Which I believe because I believe that we have built trust between us. Which is why I can’t understand why you did this. Well, I appear to be going around in circles. And you are going … where? Forty minutes to Penn Station. Hopefully I’ll figure it out.
Love,
Sean Cassidy
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: It’s an interesting life
Dave,
Guess where I am?
You, as I write this, are out there having fun in the warm California sun, while I am in New York. Why, you might ask, am I not enjoying, or at least tolerating, the neo-family Christmas I had planned?
Well, this is because Rosalind ran away to New York. I got up on Christmas Eve day and found this note from Rosalind saying that she was safe, she was fine, and I was not to interpret this as a rejection of me, but she was running away from Christmas for a few days. She assured me that she would not end up like a girl “in a Lifetime movie,” but naturally that is what I feared.
Some detective work ensued, but, to make a long story short, I found that she and her friend Kate had gone to New York, and so I ended up taking the Acela to New York with Karen and meeting my dad at Penn Station so that the three of us could scour the city.
Dad felt the most comfortable and had the most contacts in the kinds of places where scared runaways end up getting evil pimps to buy them drinks, so he volunteered to scour those sections. I didn’t really think he’d have any luck, because I was sure, in spite of the evidence, that Ros had more sense than that.
Karen was convinced that Ros and her friend Kate had run away for some kind of proto-lesbian romantic getaway, so she volunteered for the gay bookstores, bars, etc. I didn’t really think that was what was going on either, so that left me to search … where?
Unlike Dad and Karen, I had no clues in my own biography as to where they might be. I did know, though, that Kate is an artist, so I decided to hit some museums. I went to the Met, where I paid a fortune, walked around not even noticing the stuff on the wall, had an interesting conversation with the head of security, and did not find them. The place was so huge, though, that I could have missed them.
Back down to MOMA, which also cost a fortune, and which also proved fruitless, though the head of security was very accommodating and allowed me to peer at all the monitors, thus saving me the trouble of tromping around and seeing masterpieces I would be unable to appreciate. I stood there for about twenty minutes, trying to follow the action on a bank of dozens of monitors. My eyes hurt, and I still hadn’t found them.
By this point, I was getting discouraged and—well, I will leave it to you to imagine my anxiety level. You have certainly seen me at that level before, but the anxiety spiked with dread is a particularly heinous variation.
I began walking aimlessly around, and I spoke to Sandy and Eva—you know, something along the lines of, “Goddammit, if there is any way for you to do anything here, I really need some fucking help!”
I got nothing in response. But then I turned the corner, and I saw the Museum of Television and Radio, which I had never heard of and knew nothing about. And, now, you will mock me, and you probably should, but I knew immediately that that is where they were. I do not know whether Sandy and Eva’s ghosts responded to my profane incantations or whether it was just the fact that I had just tried to contact them … well, to backtrack, Rosalind and I had bonded earlier over our inability to feel the presence of dead loved ones at their grave sites, and I thought, if there is any Single Dads Club memorabilia or anything in this place, that might be a way to at least get some kind of contact with Eva, if not Sandy, and I suppose one is better than zero.
I went in looking for the exhibit halls, only to find that there aren’t any. A frustrating conversation with an intern led to a more productive conversation with the head of security (and may I say God bless these fine men and women who I have perhaps in the past derided as rent-a-cops, as they were uniformly sympathetic, patient, and helpful at all three museums) and a trip to the library, where you can order up old episodes of thousands of shows to watch in a little carrel in a very dim room.
And there, huddled in a carrel, watching Single Dads Club, faces lit blue from the TV, were Ros and Kate. Ros was crying, her shoulders heaving up and down, and Kate was rubbing her back. In view of your “birth of Max” sappiness, I will try to restrain what I commit to zeroes and ones here, but all my anger simply evaporated from my body as I saw this poor kid weeping at the sight of this incredibly terrible sitcom.
Of course I started to cry too, from relief, from love, from empathy, whatever. So I approach the sobbing teen with tears running down my own cheek, and I just sat down next to them and asked if I could watch too.
Kate was nice enough to volunteer her headphones, and Ros—I am getting all choked up as I write this, so I will do it quickly—leaned over and said, “I’m sorry Sean, I’m really sorry, I suck, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said, and I put my arm around her shoulder, and she did not shrug away, tell me to get the fuck off, or anything.
And we watched the end of the episode. Which, as luck would have it, was the final episode, the one I had never seen, where Tracey decides to go to college instead of going off to Europe with her shady boyfriend.
It made me so sad to see Eva there, twenty-two or whatever she was, and everything just overwhelmed me: sadness for Eva and for Sandy, sadness for Ros, sadness for little me watching that show in the dark and missing my mom. I guess we made quite a picture there, both of our shoulders bobbing up and down as tears ran down our cheeks, which I suppose is especially ironic given that this was one of those “very special episodes” that I assume the writers hope will inspire that kind of emotion but that always end up just being stupid.
Well, there we are. All five of us are in a hotel here somewhere in Midtown, and it is Christmas Day, and as strange as it sounds, because I’m crying again as I write this, I am as happy as I have ever been.
—Sean
Single Dads Club
Episode 2-22
“Tracey’s Decision, Part 2”
Act Three
Establishing shot: CINCINNATI SKYLINE at dusk
EXT-JIM and GARY’S HOUSE at dusk
Cut to INT-LIVING ROOM
(GARY sits alone on the couch, staring at the phone. Enter CHIP, in Cincinnati Reds cap, and JIM, in worn “Cincinnati Reds, 1976 World Champions” T-shirt.)
CHIP
Hey there, Uncle Gary. Hear anything from Miss European Traveler yet?
GARY
Do I look like I’ve heard anything?
CHIP
No, you look more like you can’t believe you ate the whole thing.
(JIM swats CHIP on the back of the head, knocking off his baseball cap.)
CHIP
Ow! Child abuse!
JIM
No, making you watch the Reds’ bullpen was child abuse. That was just good old parental discipline. Go up to your room for a minute. I wanna talk to Uncle Gary.
CHIP
(exiting, rubbing the back of his head)
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—you guys are over your heads. This place needs a woman’s touch.
JIM
With a mouth like that, that kid’ll be lucky to get a woman’s touch by the time he’s thirty.
(JIM sits on the couch next to GARY.)
JIM
She’ll do the right thing, Gare. She’s a good kid.
GARY
Well, she always has been. But that was before she met this hippie beatnik
kid. He keeps telling her to follow her bliss, but I’ve got a good idea he wants her to follow his bliss right into the back of his van. Times like this I miss Carol like crazy. I can’t help feeling like if she were alive, she’d know what to do, she’d know what to say, she’d help me.
JIM
Yeah. Whereas times like this I couldn’t be happier that Cass walked out on me. Oh, wait, that’s every waking minute of every day, and some when I’m asleep, too.
(Beat. GARY doesn’t smile.)
JIM
Sorry, Gare. Just trying to make you laugh.
GARY
Keep trying. Maybe you could abuse Chip some more.
JIM
That would be a giggle, but that kid’s such a jailhouse lawyer, he’ll have Child Protective Services in here if I so much as send him to bed without dinner. Stubborn kid.
(Enter TRACEY.)
GARY
And speaking of which …
JIM
(in exaggerated loud voice)
Well, yeah, so that Reds bullpen is a real drag! Hard to believe the Big Red Machine has come to this! Those guys couldn’t find the strike zone with a map! Well, I’m going to go commiserate with poor Chip—you know how heartbroken he gets after a Reds loss. He’ll probably be up there for hours. Or (looks at TRACEY) as long as it, um, takes. Okay! Bullpen troubles.
(JIM gets up from the couch.)
JIM
Oh, Tracey, I didn’t see you there! I’m off to console Chip.
(He exits.)
(TRACEY sits on the couch next to GARY.)
TRACEY
Uncle Jim is a really terrible liar.
GARY
Well, maybe you could give him some lessons.
TRACEY
I guess I deserve that.
GARY
You’re breaking my heart here, Trace. You know? Sneaking out, then telling me you’re not going to college? I mean, since Mom died, I’ve really been trying, you know? I mean, I’ve done the best I could, and I know I wasn’t around much before, but I have been trying to do what I thought Mom would have done, and I just feel like I’ve let her down. Like if she was here this wouldn’t be happening.
(Cut to CHIP, at the top of the steps, peering through the banister. Cut back to GARY and TRACEY on the couch.)
TRACEY
Well, I guess that’s true, Dad. I mean, if Mom was alive, I probably wouldn’t think that I should live it up while I can, I probably wouldn’t think that it could all end any minute, that I should stay out of the rat race and do what I want. I probably would have just gone to college without ever thinking about it.
(Cut to steps. JIM’s face appears next to CHIP’s. JIM begins to pull CHIP by the ear. Cut back to GARY and TRACEY.)
GARY
But, Trace, you know she would have wanted you to go to college.
(Cut to steps. JIM and CHIP now both peer through the banister, obviously not moving until this is over. Cut back to GARY and TRACEY.)
TRACEY
No, Dad, that’s what you want. You don’t know what Mom would want, and neither do I, because she’s gone.
GARY
Okay, it’s what I want. I guess I hoped that would be enough.
TRACEY
(eyes filling up)
It is.
GARY
You mean?
TRACEY
I mean (pausing to wipe her tears with a tissue she’s gotten from her purse), I did some thinking about it. About what I really want for my life, about whether I really want to go to college, or whether I’m just going along with the rat race.
(Cut to steps. CHIP rolls his eyes, holds his hand in the air, making the “blah blah blah” gesture. JIM wears a sad smile as tears run down his cheeks.)
TRACEY
And what I decided was that because I want to live my life to the fullest, because I want to do what’s best with my life, and because I would have wanted Mom to be proud of me, but more than that, because I want you to be proud of me, I’m going to college.
GARY
(crying and hugging TRACEY)
Oh, honey, that’s … that’s …
(Cut to steps.)
JIM
That’s five bucks, Chip-O. I told you she’d make the right decision.
CHIP
(handing over the five bucks)
Aw, man! (Yelling down to TRACEY) Thanks a lot! He gave me three-to-one odds!
(Pull back to reveal JIM and CHIP sheepishly coming down the steps.)
GARY
Hey, thanks a lot for the privacy, guys.
CHIP
I’m sorry, Uncle Gare, but there was money at stake! Dad gave me three-to-one that she’d go to college! I could have bought a lot of Star Wars cards with that much cash! You know how it is when the stakes are high!
GARY
I sure do, Chip. (Beat. Looks at TRACEY.) I sure do.
(CUE END THEME.)
Everybody needs somebody
I guess what they say is true
I never thought it would come to this but
I need you
Dear Fluffy:
Zuzu! Kids! I’m back in Boston!
I am in deep shit of course but that was predictable so where should I start, I don’t know, I guess I finally saw Single Dads Club, and it made me wicked sad, just incredibly sad, it was so unfair that she was there alive, walking and talking and not alive like I ever knew her, but alive anyway, and she’s just saying the stupid shit they wrote for her, not going like, “I love you Ros, you’re gonna be OK” or anything, which I know I didn’t expect, not really, I don’t know what the hell I expected. I just wanted to see her.
And there she was, alive on tv but dead really and never coming back to me and it’s one thing to remember her but to see her face and hear her voice talking was too much, way worse even than reading her words in the black album, and I just sat there and cried through three episodes, and I don’t even really know if they were good or crappy or what the stories were.
But the best part was that Kate just sat there with me and didn’t try to get me to stop crying and didn’t tell me it was okay or she was sorry or anything, she was just there, and that was the right thing to do.
And then all of a sudden Sean was there too, and he was all crying, which made me feel a lot worse than if he had been yelling at me, and so I was like I’m sorry and he was like, it’s okay, and we watched the end of the show which of course was some sappy thing with Tracey and her dad and that made me even sadder, like, I don’t know, was that Mom telling me that I do have a dad or something, or should you get your life lessons from TV or is that something stupid people do? I don’t know but Sean suddenly being there in the dark kind of made the whole thing sadder but also okay and he didn’t tell me it was okay either, because it’s not fucking okay, it’s never going to be okay, but he just kind of gave me this half hug and that was okay and I didn’t tell him to get off because it was nice.
After our four episodes of Single Dads Club were over, we had to give up our space at the tv, and we all went back to the hotel, and Karen met us there and so did Niall and I felt really bad again for fucking up everybody’s Christmas, and it was worse because even Karen didn’t yell at me about how could I do this to her, so I felt like a toad.
But whatever, I was like I guess we should go get on the Lucky Wah or whatever, and Niall was like well, it’s late and we already paid for the rooms, so let’s just stay. He said he used to sell weed to some kid who inherited his family’s Chinese restaurant or something, and he’d get them to make us a vegetarian feast off the menu, so we did, all five of us with the spinning thing in the middle of the table, and it was cool. Of course Niall joined the Kate fan club but guys of any age seem to love her, but even Karen was kind of smiling and got into this long thing about negativity and catharsis in art and Kate was right there and I didn’t understand much of it and just ate my dumplings.
Christmas we just walked around and looked at lig
hts and whatever, and Sean was like I got you all this All-Clad cookware but it’s at home, and I was like thanks, not knowing what that meant but Karen told me it was “seriously high-end cookware.” Anyway, whatever, it was a nice Christmas, I mean, I did feel kind of better after doing all that crying, and I was laughing a lot with Niall and Kate and Karen and even Sean who is pretty funny when he is not being uptight. Now we are back, and school starts in a week, and Kate is grounded until she dies and so am I, but Sean was like you can still call her and IM her and whatever because of course he loves her but I don’t know I guess he loves me too.
We are looking at a new year, and I don’t know, it sounds dumb because it’s just another day, but I feel like maybe I could have some kind of life that is new and fucked up compared to the old one but not so horrible. I mean I really did feel kinda like I had a family there for a few days, which between Sean and Karen and Niall and Kate is a collection of pretty interesting and screwed up people, and I guess add me on the screwed up part, and maybe even the interesting part too since I am the Mistress of Metal and Queen of the All-Clad.
I don’t know, Fluffy. I still hate what happened, and it’s not like I wouldn’t trade this life for my old one in a second. It is never going to be okay that they died, because it was stupid and wrong and unfair and it hurts, and that’s never ever going to be okay. But maybe I will be.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
After several false starts, I found the right way into this story after I spent an afternoon with Daniel Sokatch, Dana Reinhardt, and Noa Sokatch. Thanks to all three.
Thanks to Doug Stewart for continuing inspiration, advocacy, and friendship.
Thanks to all my friends in the English Department at Brookline High School.
Thanks to Bruce Tracy for excellent editorial support and encouragement, and for patience during the Great Title Search.
Thanks to everybody who read drafts and came back with praise and suggestions: John Andrews, Peg Halpin and the Pathetic Book Club, Dana Reinhardt, Andrew Sokatch, Daniel Sokatch, Sarah Strauss, and Jessica Yurwitz.
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