“Good!” I said to my reflection. “Young, but not too young.”
Hours — and countless young beautiful actresses walking past me to audition — later, I was not surprised to hear, “Thanks … We’ll let you know …” within seconds of my reading from the script.
I wanted to throw the pages off the stage. To tell the pompous jerk, who hadn’t even looked up from his smartphone once, “No, you won’t let me know, so why bother lying?”
Ugh! Was there anything worse a woman could do than to repeatedly set herself up for a lifetime of constant rejection? What had I been thinking trying to make a career as an actress? Just because I’d played the lead in the high school play, had been captain of the cheerleading squad, had been voted most likely to be seen in Hollywood, I’d thought that I actually had what it took to be famous. But it was all a farce. I’d tried to cheat. Tried to skirt years of working for unpaid overtime, working through lunches, showing up on my day off when an employee was sick. All the things my sister had done to work her way up in her career. Now I’d received my reward. Twenty years with nothing to show for my life, and now, with whatever job I chose, I would be starting at the bottom.
And worst of all, I was feeling sorry for myself. Double ugh! “Snap out of it, Laina!” I shouted at the mirror in the ladies’ room.
One of the beautiful young ones walked into the washroom at the same time I’d screamed at myself. She smiled, though, and said, “I like your top.”
Only another actress — or maybe it was because we were in New York — wouldn’t think a woman screaming at herself in a public restroom was crazy.
“Thanks,” I said. The woman seemed genuine, a rare feature. “How’d your audition go?”
She shrugged. “Not sure. Got the typical, ‘We’ll let you know.’ How ’bout you? You fit the part perfectly.”
I laughed. See? Why didn’t the casting director see that? Instead of announcing an open audition, why didn’t the CD just post: Twenty-somethings only, 105 pounds soaking wet, specific hair, eye color… everyone else needn’t bother to audition. That would save him, me, and the rest of the wannabes in the world a lot of time.
“Same ‘We’ll let you know.’ I’m pretty sure CDs get special training on how to say those four words in every language,” I said to the young woman, and then headed off to my day job, thinking that would have been a good comment from the haughty casting director, too: “Don’t quit your day job, Alaina Ackerman.”
I tugged on the long metal bar for the restaurant, but my hand slipped off when the normally-unlocked glass door didn’t budge.
“What the —” I cupped my hand over my eyes as I tried to see inside the restaurant. It was dark. Not a soul inside. My eyes slid to a white poster board taped to the inside of the glass. In bold black Sharpie, the words OUT OF BUSINESS were sloppily written.
“Out of business?” I glanced around, hoping someone could enlighten me but, as usual, New Yorkers sprinted by, paying me no attention.
I covered my eyes, rubbing my temples, and sank back against the brick wall. Now I couldn’t even concentrate on taking the state exam so I could apply for a teaching position. Instead, I would need to find another crappy waitressing job. And contrary to what my mother believed, it wasn’t easy to find another waitressing job. Not a good one, anyway.
Not sure where to start, I headed in the direction of the apartment. Normally I would take a taxi or, if I had time to plan, use my Uber app, but the walk would do me good. And apparently, I needed to start pinching pennies. I glanced down at the blouse the other actress had complimented, thinking I should probably return it.
I hadn’t dressed for walking outside, but hopefully the heavens would have mercy on me today. It was warm for November, but I knew that clouds held in the city heat, and clouds meant rain.
Within seconds of my thought, I felt the first drop. “Are you kidding me?” I grumbled to the sky. I envisioned my not-so-fairy fairy godmother holding up a clapperboard and yelling “action” at the not-so-happy fairytale moments in my life.
An hour later, I’d made the three-mile trek home. The full downpour had held off until I was within sprinting distance of my building.
Feeling like a drowned rat who’d also lost her last piece of cheese, I bolted out of the elevator, wanting only to take a hot bath and go back to bed. I skidded to a stop as Joe stepped out of our apartment, suitcase in hand.
He exhaled a long breath. “Hey … I didn’t have any notice, but I left you a note, Alaina.”
“Where … where are you going?” I said through chattering teeth.
The corners of Joe’s lips lifted, then fell. “They want me to take a position in Chicago, so they’re flying me out immediately.”
“A position in Chicago? When did that happen?”
“It’s a promotion. A good one. I didn’t think it’d happen, so I didn’t bother to mention it.”
In other words, just as I thought this morning, You’re not important enough to me, Alaina, so I made a decision for my life without you. “Oh,” was all I said, though.
Joe rolled his luggage toward me. “They have a furnished executive apartment ready for me to move in.” He paused to look at me, but I didn’t know what to say. “Also,” he continued, “my company is bringing up a manager from Orlando, so they asked me to lease my condo to him in exchange for the apartment in Chicago —”
“Excuse me, what?” I didn’t even know how to finish my question, so I let my “what” hang out there, apparently the way he planned to leave me hanging out to freeze to death in New York in November.
“Come with me, Alaina. You’ll like Chicago.”
No, I wouldn’t, and Joe knew it. I hated Chicago. Every time I’d gone on a business trip with him to Chicago, I couldn’t wait to get back to New York. Every day was drearier than the last. “I can’t go …”
His eyes widened. “Did you get the part?”
That would be the only reason I’d stay in New York, I guessed. Because, after all, what else did I have here, in his opinion. In my mother’s opinion, too, apparently.
“Yes,” I lied. I wasn’t even sure why, but I didn’t want to be anyone’s hard-luck case. “How soon will the man from Orlando be moving in?”
“Not until next month.”
“And if I hadn’t landed the role?”
“You could come to Chicago with me …”
And there it was. Joe didn’t really want me to go with him, but I could go — if I was happy with the status quo. Happy being in a roommate-with-benefits relationship. If I were desperate … I wasn’t. Not yet. Not ever.
“Thanks, Joe, but no thanks.” I wrapped my arms around my midriff and moved away from him, walking toward the front door of his apartment. At least I didn’t have much to pack. All of my large items had been in storage since I’d moved in with Joe. I’d brought nothing but my clothes and toiletries.
“Alaina …”
I turned to look at him, but he hadn’t moved from his position next to the elevator.
“Good bye, Joe.”
He nodded and pushed the down arrow.
I unlocked the door and hurried inside. The letter Joe had mentioned was resting on the bar that separated the kitchen from the living area, the same spot where Joe discarded his keys, wallet, phone — and, apparently, his breakup letters — the moment he came home from work. Always the professional, Joe had neatly written my name on the outside of the legal-size envelope. I stuffed it into my satchel without bothering to read it.
Why bother? He’d been able to deliver the news first-hand. The idea that he would just move on and only leave me a letter made my blood boil. Besides, I didn’t have time to read how little I meant to him. If I hurried, I might be able to catch the four o’clock train to Pittsburgh. At least my mother would be happy.
2
Coming Home
As soon as I stepped off the train, I heard my name shouted. I turned my head, looking for the source of the familiar vo
ice. I had told my mother I would catch a ride via the Uber app, that she didn’t need to be at the train station at midnight.
“Over here, Laina!” my mother called again.
I rolled my one piece of luggage behind me. “Hi, Mom. You didn’t have to —”
She squeezed off my words. “No worries. Ray drove. She’s bringing the car around. Her new car …”
Of course. And of course, Raylene would have driven Mom. Can’t let Mom drive into town alone. Can’t let Mom be left alone. And now Raylene would be upset with me because she had to drive Mom to the station at midnight and still get up before the crack of dawn. Loyal, dedicated Raylene also never skipped her exercise routine before work every day. Whereas I was barely in REM sleep at five a.m., she would be running on an elliptical or doing her Pilates routine.
My mother wrapped her arms around my waist. At least she seemed genuinely happy to have me here. I felt like the prodigal child. Next, she’d roast the fattened calf and invite the neighbors for a party. Oh, wait. Not veal — we’d have turkey. For Thanksgiving the following week. Yes, Raylene would be in a great mood, I was certain.
“Guess what, Laina?”
We hadn’t even gotten in the car, and the twenty questions were starting. “Not a clue, Mom.”
“You know that book Ray and I loved?”
I laughed. “You and Ray like lots of books.” I loved to read too, but rarely was I interested in the books my mother and sister enjoyed. Although they typically were not alike in most aspects, they loved the same types of books, mainly self-help books and tearjerkers, books that I ended up throwing across the room about halfway through. I couldn’t take them emotionally. I didn’t mind shedding a tear when I read a book or watched a movie; I just didn’t want to cry for days. I didn’t care what anyone said; I liked happily-ever-afters. I liked to maintain the foolish hope that somewhere in this universe things might actually work out, even if that wasn’t the case in my life.
“The one I sent you,” my mother continued, “You Don’t Need a Man.”
“Oh, that one.” I was almost positive I’d buried it in the bottom drawer of my dresser, beneath the lingerie I hadn’t worn in what seemed like a lifetime. The title of the book alone had told me I wouldn’t enjoy it, so I’d stashed it away, thinking Joe wouldn’t be too keen on my reading a man-bashing book. Then again, maybe Joe deserved some man-bashing since he’d been a coward. Who leaves a three-year relationship via a letter?
But the last thing I wanted to do was offend my mother within minutes of my arrival. It usually took at least a day or so until we started throwing baleful glares and sneers. Maybe I should have read the book. I heard the girls at the restaurant going on and on about it, and that Hollywood hottie himself Howard Edwards the Second was adapting it into a movie, but I’d just been too busy. “What about it?” I finally asked my mother.
“It’s being adapted into a movie, and the producer is holding auditions right here. Well, not right here, here. In Greensburg. You remember that gorgeous old theater I used to take you and Ray to when you were young.”
I couldn’t stop the sigh from escaping. “Mom, there’s no way on earth I’ll ever land a role in a major motion picture. I’m too old.”
“Didn’t you read the book?” she asked, as if shocked by the idea that I wouldn’t have read something she had sent me. “The main character looks exactly like you, and she’s only a few years younger than you are.”
Which meant the producers would want someone ten years younger to play the role. “I’m done, Mom. I’m going to take the state exam so I can apply for a teaching job.”
My mother slowly lowered herself to a bench, her hand covering her mouth to hold back … I wasn’t quite sure what. A cry? A shout? “Here?” she finally asked, her eyes widening and glistening slightly. “In Pennsylvania?”
My own emotions spiked in response to hers. I knew my mother loved me, but she’d never seemed to care that I lived in New York. After all, she had Raylene nearby. “Well, I’m not sure about that … New York and Pennsylvania both require a certificate, though, so I need to do some research. But I’d love to stay here while I figure out all that, since it’s the holidays. Would you like that? Could I stay with you for a while?”
“Oh, Laina! That’s perfect.” She jumped up and squeezed me. “I’d love you to come home! You can stay with us indefinitely if you want. There’s plenty of room, of course. You know that.”
“Us? Who’s —” My question was cut off by my sister’s voice behind me.
“Hey, Laina.” Raylene rested her arm around my shoulders and gave me a light squeeze. The kind of patronizing squeeze one would expect from an older sister. Next, I assumed, she’d ruffle my hair and call me kiddo.
My mother leaned back from our embrace, but lifted my hand at the same time she reached for Raylene’s hand, making a ring, just as she’d done when we were children. “Laina’s going to stay with us for a while, Ray! Isn’t that great?”
My older sister turned her head, a half-smile lifting one side of her face. “Yes, that would be great.” In other words, Raylene didn’t believe for a minute that I was coming back with any degree of longevity. After all, I’d told her a thousand times that nothing would tempt me to leave New York.
“I’m just deciding on a change of careers, so I figured I’d stay with Mom through the holidays while I research my options.”
My sister’s lips turned up, and I wasn’t sure if it was a, See… she’s not coming home, or an, It’ll be nice to have you home for the holidays. Without a word to explain her smile, Raylene — the most sensible, strong, and industrious woman out of the three of us — dropped our mother’s hand and, with a grunt, picked up my suitcase and hefted it into the rear compartment of her Subaru Outback. Yep! Always practical. Always levelheaded. Right down to the new car she drove. I was surprised she’d even let a grunt slip out. Normally she refused to show any weakness, even a sound that a normal human would make.
Then again, Raylene wasn’t like our mother — or me for that matter. While my sister and I could have been twins based on our facial features, she had inherited our Jewish father’s olive coloring and no-nonsense personality, along with the same russet-colored hair and eyes. Clearly she’d inherited his business sense, too, since she’d worked all the way up to the position of bank manager.
Mom and I, on the other hand, have matching blond hair, aquamarine-colored eyes — according to my mother — and a complete lack of concern about the future. Which, of course, was the reason I was in my current situation.
My sister looked tired, though, and a lot thinner than she’d ever been. The six days a week she spent running the bank were starting to wear on her, it seemed.
As I reached for the back door handle, my mother shooed me away. “Sit upfront. You and Ray have a lot of catching up to do. You and I will have plenty of time to talk.”
Raylene peeked at me as I plopped down in the front seat. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, but if you want to get breakfast …” she trailed off, which meant she had no desire to prolong this night any longer than she had to, but Mom had probably suggested getting breakfast on the drive to the station.
I wasn’t tired or hungry. I rarely went to bed before three or four a.m. And I’d slept on the train, so it’d be a while before I was ready to crash, especially with everything going on in my head. Coffee would be good, but Raylene looked exhausted, so I submitted to her unasked request by turning down her bogus invitation. “Thanks, but I’ll bet I can find something to eat in the fridge. I’m sure Mom still cooks as though there were four of us.” My father had died before I was six, so we’d lived with our grandfather, or rather, Zayde, most of my life. Every night, Mom had something stewing in the crockpot, and on Sunday, she’d make a huge meal that we all had to be present for. Even when Raylene had started college, she’d had to come home for Sunday dinners, except the last few months of the semester, when she’d been cramming trying to finish up one of her deg
rees. Raylene had only been a few hours away, at Penn State, so it’d been easy for her. I’d chosen New York, so I’d been excused.
A hint of a smile lifted Raylene’s cheeks again. “Yeah. And even though Zayde’s been gone for nearly ten years, she still makes his favorite meal every Sunday, too.”
“I haven’t gone deaf yet, girls.”
“Not completely,” Raylene whispered with a composed chuckle.
Mom unbuckled and then re-buckled herself into the center seat and leaned forward. “So, I have my two girls home, indefinitely.”
My eyes darted to my sister. “You moved back home? What happened to Russell?” I knew Raylene and her boyfriend of twelve years hadn’t married, but it had looked as though they would be together forever. They’d even purchased a house together. And why on earth hadn’t Raylene or my mother mentioned this to me? It wasn’t like we didn’t talk on the phone.
Raylene closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds and then opened them, but kept her gaze focused on the road, where they should be anyway. “We’re trying a temporary separation, so I moved back in with Mom. It was the easiest solution.”
Mom tapped my arm, and I peeked over my shoulder. She just shook her head, telling me to let it go. So Raylene’s perfect little life wasn’t so perfect either. Not that that fact made me feel better; it didn’t. I love my sister. I just got tired of everyone telling me how smart she was, how mature she was, and asking me when was I going to settle down like my sister? – who apparently wasn’t settled anymore.
At thirty-nine, I didn’t need anyone to ask me those questions. I asked myself those questions every day now. The answer to all of the questions was … never, though. For me, it was too late for marriage and kids, and nothing I would ever do would make me as smart and as mature as my sister, who, I was certain, was born an adult.
[What's Luck Got To Do With It 02.0] Down on Her Luck Page 2
