Forever An Ex

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  I had to shut my mouth and look at my daughter for an extra minute before I answered. She was starting to sound—a little grown.

  “What do you know about the School of Performing Arts?” I asked, trying not to sound like I was getting an attitude. And believe me, I was getting an attitude because I (with Bobby’s checkbook) paid a lot of money for her dancing classes with Debbie Allen, her acting classes with Raquel Wendy Robinson, and it had cost a small fortune for Bobby to fly in one of the best photographers in the country for Angel’s modeling portfolio. I was doing everything to help my daughter pursue her dreams, and everything that she wanted and needed was right here in Los Angeles.

  Angel scooted away from me and crossed her legs yoga-style. Her face glowed as she said, “Mom, you should see the school. It’s amazing.”

  “You’ve been there?” I asked, wondering when Bobby and Caroline had snuck Angel to New York.

  “I haven’t, but I know a lot about it. Mom Caroline and I used to watch this old TV show called Fame. It was about all these kids who wanted to grow up to be all kinds of performers, and after every show, Mom Caroline always said that I was better than all of those actors. She said that she thought that would be a good school for me.”

  When Angel said Caroline’s name, my ears perked right up. “So, it was a TV show about the high school?” I asked, crossing my arms.

  “Uh-huh. There were all these cool actors and a long, long, long time ago even Janet Jackson was on it. She was way younger then, but, Mom, so many famous people graduated from that school. Like Robert De Niro and Al Pacino and Ben Vereen and Jennifer Aniston.”

  How did my child know all of this?

  “I did my research,” she said, anticipating my question. “I’ve been reading everything I can. I looked on the Internet and Mom Caroline found out a lot of stuff about the school, too. She even had them mail me some information.”

  I was beginning to smell a rat. A refined, rich, well-dressed rat! “And where is all this information?”

  “At Dad’s. Mom Caroline kept it, but after we got it, we talked to Dad and told him that I really wanted to go there. And he said that it sounded like I’d thought it all out in a mature way, so that’s why they’re changing their whole life around. Just for me.”

  I wanted to ask my daughter why she’d done all of this with Caroline. Why hadn’t she talked to me? But it was beginning to sound like this hadn’t been Angel’s idea alone.

  “That’s all good, but why move across the country when you’re living where all the movies are made? If you need better acting lessons and dance classes, we’ll find them, but—”

  “No, Mom.” She sighed like I didn’t know anything. Then she went on to school me. “Most movies are filmed in Atlanta or even Canada now because of tax breaks.”

  How did Angel know this?

  “L.A. used to be the film capital of the world, but not anymore,” she said, shaking her head as if she were an expert.

  “And really, as an actress, I think I’d like to try theater rather than film because it’s live acting and you get to interact with the audience, and get immediate feedback. Being on the stage, being on Broadway, now that’s real, real, real acting.”

  It had to be all over my face—I was in awe. My child was weeks away from being twelve, but just like Bobby said, she’d put a lot of thought into . . . her future.

  Was going to New York really the best thing for my child?

  No!

  Especially not if it had been Caroline’s idea.

  “Well,” I began, “you’ve given me a lot to think about and we still have a couple of years—”

  “It’s not that far away,” she said, not letting me finish. “There’s a lot to do. It’s a public school, you have to be a resident of New York, so Dad has to pull some strings. He said I might have to do my last year of middle school in New York.”

  What!

  She continued, “And I have to get prepared to audition.”

  After a moment I said, “I’ll think about all of this . . .” I kept the rest of the words to myself—and my answer would still be no.

  “Thanks, Mom!” She kissed my cheek. “You’re the greatest.”

  I opened my arms expecting us to snuggle once again, but she didn’t even notice. She jumped up, and then the same way she’d come into my bedroom, she scurried right back out.

  She stopped suddenly, though. Right at the door, she turned around. “Mom, this is really important to me. Probably the most important thing that will ever happen in my whole life. I’ve been dreaming about this forever.” She pressed her hands together as if she was about to pray. “So please, Mom, really think about it enough to say yes!”

  I nodded ’cause I didn’t want to lie out loud.

  “Really, really, really. Please, please, please,” she added before she dashed to her own bedroom.

  I just sat there, staring at the now-empty doorway. But I still imagined her there, and heard all the words that she’d said to me. Her voice, her tone, the way she pleaded—that was a child. But the thought that she’d put behind her words—there were grown people who didn’t do that much thinking and planning. She was thinking and planning for New York the way I’d schemed to hook up with a pro ballplayer. And, I had succeeded.

  But I didn’t want Angel to go. If she were in New York, what would that mean for us? We wouldn’t be together during her high school years, and I wanted to be there for her first date, when she got her driver’s license, and even when she had her first heartbreak. I wanted to spend those years cheering her on through every triumph, and wiping her tears through any trials.

  But if she were in New York, my time with her would be limited to holidays and maybe part of the summer—if she wasn’t too busy to come home. Angel would be spending all her time with Caroline, and I had this feeling that Caroline was doing more than just being the kind stepmother.

  I clicked off the lamp on my nightstand and slid back down in the bed, but didn’t close my eyes. Inside the darkness, all kinds of questions swirled around me. What if Angel really wanted to do it? What if this wasn’t Caroline’s idea and it was all Angel? Could I eventually find a way to say yes? If I said no, would I be holding her back?

  The seconds turned to minutes, and with each new hour, new questions came to mind. I never closed my eyes because my thoughts were too loud. So, I just stayed awake and tried to make sense of the noise.

  My mind never quieted, I never slept. Somewhere around four in the morning, I let insomnia have the victory. I sat up, grabbed my cell phone, and sat in the dark, waiting for more time to pass. It was way too early to make any telephone calls. I’d have to wait for a more decent hour—like seven.

  But I was never one to do things decently and in order. By the time the digital numbers on my clock flipped to six, I was already pressing the phone icon on my cell.

  “Sheridan,” I said to the groggy voice who was one of the most important people in my life. “I really need you. Can we talk?”

  Chapter

  Five

  I glanced down at my ringing phone. Dang! Was Noon really up this early? My mouth stretched into a wide yawn as I pressed ignore, exactly the way I’d done at least a hundred times over the last three days.

  That’s how long it’d been since I’d seen Bobby . . . and last talked to Noon.

  From the time I met Noon in middle school, we’d never gone more than one day without speaking to each other, and on every voice-mail message, Noon reminded me of that.

  My hope was that the blush of her new love with Brett would keep her away from my front door; and it did, but it wasn’t enough to make her stop calling me.

  When my cell rang again, and Noon’s name popped up, I yawned and powered off my phone. My best friend’s I-told-you-so’s, and then her trying to convince me to do Plan B were going to have to wait. Right
now I had the issue of Angel to handle.

  I shoved my phone inside the pocket of my sweatshirt. This wasn’t something I did often because of Angel. But it was just a little after seven; Angel was just getting up and Ms. Martinez, my nanny/housekeeper, was there to make sure she was fed and off to school.

  I jumped out of my car, then scooted up on the hood. The heat of the engine warmed my butt, but that was okay. This was winter at the beach, I could use the heat. And, I could use some prayer . . . which is why, for the first time ever, I called this prayer meeting.

  Me, calling a prayer meeting. With Sheridan Goodman and Kendall Stewart. Six years ago, who would’ve thunk it?

  When my aunt hooked me up with Sheridan, Kendall, and another woman, Vanessa Martin, all those years ago, I thought that she was suffering from early-stage dementia. Really? My Aunt Beverly, who was a pastor, really wanted me to get together on the regular and pray with those old women?

  But I can admit that I was wrong, she was right. Because after just a few weeks, praying with the three of them became a part of my week that I looked forward to.

  But then tragedy dealt us a huge blow. Vanessa, probably one of the sweetest, gentlest, kindest women I will ever know, committed suicide. I cried so hard that day that my chest actually ached. I guess that was true heartache, and with Sheridan and Kendall going through the same thing, we really bonded after that.

  Not that I would ever tell them—especially not Kendall—but the time I spent with the two of them back then really helped me through the pain of losing Vanessa . . . and Bobby. And since then, it always helped to be around grown women who made sense and who prayed.

  Not that I was dissin’ my girl Noon, but she was just as scandalous as I was. Sheridan and Kendall approached life with at least some semblance of God and I needed people like that around me.

  So, that’s what Sheridan and Kendall were—my spiritual anchors. And I guess in some way I was that for them, because no matter what time we got that call, we were always there for each other—as Sheridan and Kendall proved when I spoke to them just a little over an hour ago.

  I’d called because I thought they would be able to help me find some of the answers that I couldn’t. Sheridan would be kind and gentle, Kendall would be uncouth and crabby. And both would pray and help me work through this Angel–Bobby–Caroline–New York thing.

  That’s what I told them once Sheridan had connected Kendall to our call.

  “You want to get together and pray?” Kendall had asked. She’d been asleep when Sheridan had called, but right then Kendall had sounded like she was awake enough to faint.

  “Yes,” I said, too tired to be offended. “I was hoping you guys would have some time for lunch or maybe dinner today.”

  “Lunch, dinner?” Kendall said. “Sheridan, what’re you doing? We need to get over there and lay hands on this child right now.”

  Usually, I had something for Kendall when she came at me like that, but not only was I tired, I was scared, so I didn’t care that Kendall was clowning me. As it turned out, though, she wasn’t kidding.

  “Okay, I’m getting up now,” Sheridan had said. “Where do you want to meet?”

  “Wait!” I said. “Now?”

  “Uh, yeah, now,” Kendall jumped in. “You need us! You want us to come to your place?”

  “No. Let’s meet at the beach, is that okay?”

  “Give me an hour,” Sheridan and Kendall said together as if they’d had that answer ready for a time such as this.

  I was already crying when I hung up the phone. Who had friends who would jump out of bed in the middle of the night? Well, it may not have exactly been the middle of the night, but it was to me. I hardly got out of bed before noon.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled, taking in the ocean’s mist. The parking lot was a couple of hundred feet from the edge of the beach, but it was like I was sitting on top of the waves. Since Bobby’s latest rejection, I’d been holed up at home like a chicken in a coop. But there, I couldn’t think, I could hardly breathe.

  Out here in the open, I hoped to find clarity. Maybe I’d find all the solutions that would keep Angel in Los Angeles.

  “Asia!”

  I opened my eyes slowly, trying to maintain my calm and tranquility, even if Kendall was screaming at me.

  Sheridan and Kendall stood in front of my car, both with their arms crossed as if they’d been standing there for a minute.

  “Oh, yeah, we definitely need to pray for you,” Kendall said. “I think you’re losing your hearing.”

  “Leave her alone,” Sheridan said as she pulled me off the car and into her arms. “Obviously, she has a lot on her mind.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Kendall grumbled. But then she did the same thing that Sheridan had done—she hugged me. And Kendall held me so tight, like she was trying to tell me that even though she didn’t know what was going on, everything was going to be all right.

  When I stepped back, Sheridan asked, “You okay?”

  I didn’t know what happened. Maybe it was just thinking about the talk with Angel. Maybe it was all of the fears that I had about Caroline. Maybe it was because now that Sheridan and Kendall were here, I wasn’t alone.

  Or maybe it was because no matter how Kendall acted, she really did love me.

  “Yeah, are you okay?” Kendall repeated Sheridan’s question.

  That was when I lost it. I burst into tears. I could say that I just cried, but that would be a lie. I stood on the edge of that ocean and bawled like a baby; the only thing is that babies eventually stop, but I wasn’t sure if I ever would.

  • • •

  After I got myself together, we trekked down to the edge of the beach. I took off my sneakers and let the cool ocean water wash over my feet.

  Sheridan and Kendall kept their sneakers on, grumbling about it being too cold to be walking in the water. But to me, it was as refreshing as the cry fest I’d just had.

  “Let us know when you’re ready to talk,” Sheridan said gently.

  I took just a few more steps then told Sheridan and Kendall everything. From my talk with Bobby to my talk with Angel, though I did leave out the part about how I was gonna get Bobby back.

  “You need to put that child on a plane tomorrow because she’s brilliant,” Kendall said when I’d finished.

  That stopped me right in my tracks. “Are you serious? You think I should let her go?”

  Kendall shrugged, then nodded. “Yeah, I don’t see the big deal. Angel is smart, she’s thought it out, she knows what she wants, even more than people who are triple her age, and it’s not like she’ll be in New York with someone she doesn’t know.”

  Yeah, she’ll be with Caroline, though I kept that thought to myself. That was another part of the story that I didn’t tell Sheridan and Kendall—my suspicions about Caroline trying to steal my daughter. I didn’t want them to think that this was all about some rivalry I had with Bobby’s wife.

  “Let her go, Asia,” Kendall continued. “It’ll be good for her.”

  I couldn’t believe what Kendall was telling me and I felt like crying all over again. “Why would you say that?” Before she could answer, I said, “Oh, wait. You don’t have any children. You don’t know what it’s like to be a mother!” Then I looked to Sheridan. And if she told me the same thing, I was going to throw myself into the ocean.

  “Okay, hold on, you two,” Sheridan said, being the peacemaker that she always was. “Kendall, you’re right. What Angel said . . . she’s clearly beyond her years. But”—she turned back to me—“I have to agree with you. It would be hard for me to let her go.”

  “See!” I said to Kendall as if Sheridan’s words were the gospel. “I can’t let her go and I don’t see any reason why I have to.” I held up my arms to the heavens. “This is L.A. People leave Iowa and North Dakota and Wyoming to come here.”
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  “And people leave L.A. to go to New York,” Kendall said. When I glared at her, she said, “All I’m saying is that you’ve got to consider what your daughter wants.”

  “She’s eleven!”

  “So what? Clearly, she’s a brilliant eleven-year-old who’s focused and goal-oriented.”

  “And every goal she wants to achieve . . . she can do it here.”

  Kendall shook her head.

  “I can’t believe you’re not supporting me,” I said to Kendall.

  She waved her hand like she was slapping my words into the ocean. “There is no way I’d be out here in this cold weather, walking on this cold beach, at seven-thirty in the morning, if I weren’t supporting you.”

  She had a point, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

  Kendall said, “I’m just telling you the truth. That’s what I thought friends did. But I guess you can’t handle it.”

  “You know what?” I said, pointing my finger in Kendall’s direction. “I don’t need your opinion anymore. Don’t say another word to me.”

  “What? You think you can shut me up because you don’t want to hear the truth?”

  Sheridan held up her hands, stopping Kendall from saying anything else. “Of course Asia wants the truth. There’s just a better way to say it.” To me, she said, “Suppose Kendall is right, though. I wouldn’t want Angel to ever feel like you held her back.”

  That was my greatest fear. If I said no, would my child end up hating me? With a sigh, I said, “Well, the good thing is we have a couple of years. Maybe by then, Angel will have changed her mind and she’ll be interested in something else.”

  “Like what?” Kendall asked with just enough of a chuckle to let me know that she thought I was being ridiculous. Clearly my telling her to shut up didn’t matter. “Your daughter was singing before she could talk and dancing before she could walk. This is in her blood, Asia. She knows what she wants.”

  I growled. Just because Kendall was right didn’t mean I had to like it.

  “The good thing is that you do have a few years,” Sheridan jumped in. “And in the meantime, we’ll all pray about it.”