“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. I wanted to have a few quick words.”
“You mean you wanted to stop me from seeing them?”
“Quite the opposite, Eddie. We’re all one big happy family.”
“So you won’t be suing me?”
“Suing you? For what?”
“For busting past security? For telling that nurse I never slept with Melissa?”
“That’s all behind us. Why would I try to sue the most popular man in America?”
“I thought I was the villain?”
“When was the last time you went online?”
Eddie tried to remember. There had been no computer in the hotel room, and his phone had disappeared.
“It must have been while I was still at the Cue.”
“Then you’ve missed a lot. Your penance is done, Eddie. People are moved. You gave it all up at the height of your fame. You said good-bye to Melissa. Gave away your possessions to the needy and spent your days sitting outside with some kind of street corner guru. You’ve attained wisdom. People think you’re some kind of saint. You’ve put a lot of us to shame. If Eddie Hartley can change, there’s hope for all. The video of you crying at Justine’s memorial has more than a million views.”
“You drove me to that memorial.”
“Of course I did. But you did a lot of the work yourself. With the luggage, and whatever was going on with that bum outside the school. You’ve always been better when you didn’t know.”
“You’ve had cameras on me all week?”
“That’s what I’ve been paying you for, Eddie. It’s in the contract.”
“Then why did you try to stop me from seeing Susan?”
“Try to stop you? I walked you right to her, Eddie. I was producing the whole thing live.”
“Dell said you were in L.A.”
“Did you think I would be on the other side of the country just when my biggest star is ready to pop?”
“You were with Justine’s family.”
“Justine is the past, Eddie. We’re worried about what comes next.”
“So that was another lie.”
“You’re still thinking about things in the wrong terms, Eddie. It was great television, is what it was.”
“Was Susan really in any danger?”
Moody sighed. In the darkness, Eddie imagined the cigarette bobbing in his grinning mouth.
“For our purposes, she was.”
“I thought she might die.”
“That’s exactly my point. You were very relatable.”
“I was terrified.”
“All that should matter to you now is that Susan is safe and your kids are healthy.”
For a moment, it was all that mattered.
“So now what?” Eddie asked.
“We’ve got a show to do. I got the overnights, and they were the best ratings we’ve ever pulled. You beat out Justine’s funeral. Your collapse was an iconic television moment, Eddie. You know what was so great about it?”
“What?”
“It was real, Eddie. That’s what everyone responded to. This is what people needed after Justine—a happy ending, some redemption. We’re going to turn the culture around. Peerbaum’s working on the column now. He’s even got a quote from me. I don’t usually like to insert myself that way. Authorial intrusion can be a real downer. But in this case it seemed appropriate.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Just that I did a little soul-searching myself. I’d let some of my field team go too far. The idea that a television producer would practically tackle a man, trying to stop him from getting to his wife when she was in danger—I was as sickened by it as anyone else. Dell represents all that’s wrong with the reality business, and we’ve gotten rid of him.”
“But it wasn’t his fault.”
“It’s got to be someone’s fault, Eddie. We can’t all reach the Promised Land together. That’s how the thing works. Marty understands. He made it to the mountaintop, which is more than a lot of people get. And he’s being well compensated. Let’s get back to the matter at hand. We’re going to usher in a new era of authenticity. You’ve even inspired Rex. Next week he’s coming out, and CelebNation has the exclusive.”
“Rex Gilbert is gay?”
“You’re honestly asking me that? You must be the last one in show business to know.”
“I’m not really in show business.”
“You sure as hell are now.”
“So I get to go home with Susan? We’re getting back together for good?”
“That’s right. But to keep everyone honest, there’s going to be some changes. It’s going to be live-streamed. Twenty-four/ seven access, so everyone knows it’s on the level. We’re going to earn people’s trust. We just need you to sign the forms.”
“When do I get to see my girls?”
“As soon as we finish with the paperwork.”
“I can’t exactly move yet.”
“We’ve got a few minutes.”
“Am I allowed to talk with Susan about it first?”
“I’m afraid not. Understand, you’re under no pressure to sign. No coercion is going on here. You want to take some time to convalesce, figure things out, that’s your business. But you can’t get on camera before we’ve taken care of the contract, and you can’t see Susan without getting on camera.”
After he’d signed everything and Moody had left him alone, Eddie fought his way into the bathroom to clean up. It would be his last time off camera for a while, so he hoped to make himself look presentable, but there wasn’t much he could do. His swollen right eye was purple on its lid, fading into a sickening yellow around the lower rim of his right cheek. This would get better eventually, but the damage to his nose seemed more likely to persist. It couldn’t really be seen beneath the splint, but when he explored it with his fingers he found a bump halfway down the bridge, after which the whole thing sloped slightly askance.
He wasn’t so handsome anymore. At least for now he was a little bit monstrous, in fact. There was something to be said for the overall effect. He’d been brought low so that he could be raised up, but he still had the scars from his fall. He didn’t feel any better suited to playing a saint than a villain, but at least he had a part again. He hobbled out of his room. Whatever had popped in his leg the day before had tightened. He couldn’t bend his knee, so he stepped into the camera’s eye in a parody of a military march.
Emerging from the elevator on the sixth floor, on his way to see Susan after all this time, he tried to imagine what she’d been through in the past few days. Had her life ever been in danger? He didn’t want to believe she’d let him be deceived about such a thing, though she hardly owed him honesty. Perhaps she hadn’t known Moody’s plan. Or she’d thought that Eddie knew it, too. He’d have to ask once the cameras were off, whenever that time came.
“Your face,” Susan said in greeting as he limped into the room.
“I fell,” Eddie responded, trying to smile.
“They told me. It gives you some texture. I like it.”
“How are you feeling?”
She looked tired, and she was damp with sweat.
“I’m still in a lot of pain,” she said. “But they’ve given me something for that. Sorry if I seem a bit out of it.”
“That’s all right. It’s just great to see you again.”
“They told me you saved my life. I wouldn’t have made it without that transfusion.”
“We had a real scare,” Eddie said.
“We did,” Susan said. “But everything is okay.”
“Where are the girls?”
“The nurses have them. They should be back soon.”
Eddie pulled a chair beside the bed and took Susan’s hand.
“I’m sorry for everything.”
“It all worked out,” Susan said.
Before Eddie could respond to this, the door opened and three nurses arrived, each carrying one of the babies.
<
br /> “Hello, Dad,” the first nurse said. “Do you want to meet your daughters?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Let me show you how to hold her.”
She approached with one arm holding the baby, who was swaddled so tightly in a blue hospital blanket that she might have been a package about to be dropped in the mail. Eddie reached out his arm and the nurse placed the bundle on him. The baby was smaller than his arm from the elbow to the wrist, and Eddie felt terrified of her. How fragile, this thing that had been placed into his care. But she seemed to fit so naturally.
“Say hello to your oldest daughter,” the nurse said. “This is Martha Hartley.”
“It seemed appropriate,” Susan said. “Martha’s the one who made this all possible.”
Eddie looked into the child’s tiny, milky eyes. She twisted her mouth in what might have been a yawn or a burp. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
“She looks like you,” he told Susan.
The other girls were set down, one on Eddie’s other arm and one on his lap.
“Meet Justine and Regina.”
“Regina?” Eddie asked.
“I decided that one should be named after Rex,” Susan explained. “He was really there for me when things were bad. I hope that doesn’t seem weird.”
Eddie didn’t care what they were called. They were his, and they were all connected in a place where names had no meaning.
“Why don’t we get a picture of the happy family?” the nurse asked, though everything was already being captured by camera. She took Susan’s phone and stood in front of Eddie and the girls.
“Smile,” she said.
As soon as the picture was taken, the girls began to cry in their rolling bassinets, first one and then all three together.
“They’re hungry,” Susan said.
“What do we do?”
“The nurses showed me, but I need your help.”
Eddie propped Susan up with pillows and brought the girls over, one at a time. Susan opened her hospital gown and took two of them while Eddie fed the third a bottle.
“Come over here,” Susan said.
He sat beside her on the bed, and the entire family was together.
There was so much he meant to say, but he couldn’t while the cameras were on. It wasn’t that any of it conflicted with Moody’s story, just that he didn’t want it to be broadcast to the world. He wanted it to belong to them. Susan turned up from feeding and looked at him. What passed between them then lasted only an instant. It wasn’t something that could be captured or reproduced, but Eddie was almost certain it was real.
THEY LEFT THE HOSPITAL two days later. The sidewalk was filled as though for a parade. As he pushed Susan’s wheelchair through the oversized revolving door, Eddie read the signs being waved at them. “Congratulations Eddie and Susan.” “The Hartleys Give Me Hope.” When they came into sight, a cheer spread up the block. Guards created a path to the black Escalade waiting on the corner. Eddie helped Susan up and clicked the three baby carriers into place. A camera mounted on the back of the driver’s seat tracked Eddie’s motion while he struggled to climb in after them. The shake of the starting car sent the girls into a syncopated round of screams.
“I guess we just let them cry it out,” Susan said.
Eddie watched through the front windshield as the driver pulled into traffic. When the light changed, they continued west.
“Where are you going?” Eddie asked. “Our apartment is in the other direction.”
“I’m taking you to your new place,” the driver answered. “Plenty of room for the family.”
They turned uptown on Park Avenue. In the nineties, they turned onto a side street and pulled up in front of a four-story brownstone that made Eddie think of the places where his richer St. Albert’s classmates had lived. The driver got out first and opened the curbside door. He helped them both to the street and carefully handed down the babies. Hal was waiting on the sidewalk with his camera. He followed them to the front door but stayed behind as they crossed the threshold. Eddie didn’t see any cameras in the front hall, which meant that they might be anywhere. A tall woman with neatly cut black hair greeted them.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hartley,” she said in a perfect British accent. “My name is Priscilla, and I’ll be managing your house.” She hadn’t had that accent, Eddie remembered, when she’d stood beside him at the bar and told him that Susan was calling his name. “Why don’t I show you to the nursery first, then I can give you a full tour of the place?”
A banner above the nursery door read “The Von Verdant Gallery welcomes home Martha, Justine, and Regina.” Below it was a painting of a pink stork carrying three bundles, signed by Graham Turnbough. Susan grabbed Eddie as they walked inside.
“It’s got everything,” she said. “Can you believe it?”
Eddie looked over the three cribs, the three changing tables, the pile of diapers.
“These diapers are a gift from our friends at Pampers,” Priscilla said. “And Fisher-Price has outfitted the nursery with phthalate-free toys appropriate for ages zero to three months.”
“That sounds good,” Eddie said as they each set one of the babies in a crib.
“The nurses and the nanny get here tomorrow,” Priscilla continued. “But we’re on our own tonight.”
“How big a staff have we got?” Eddie asked.
“The numbers aren’t important. It’s just to make sure the children have what they need.”
They went through the rest of the house, beginning with the home gym in the basement and ending with the pool inside the rooftop bubble. Eddie imagined his girls growing up thinking this was just what life was like. On their way back downstairs, they stopped on the third floor.
“I’ve got another surprise for you,” Priscilla said.
She opened a door to reveal a room filled with stretched canvases on easels and a table covered in brushes and paints.
“My own studio,” Susan said. She turned to Eddie. “Did you have anything to do with this?”
Eddie shrugged.
“I’ve always wanted to paint,” Susan said to Priscilla, who seemed to exist in part as a stand-in for the audience. “All these years working at the gallery, I really wanted to be an artist myself.”
They both now looked expectantly at Eddie.
“She’s very talented,” he said, improvising. “All she needed was a little push, and I think this might be it.”
At the end of the tour, Priscilla left them sitting together on the living room couch. Eddie wanted to say something, but one of the babies started crying, and the others quickly joined in. They walked to the nursery together.
“I guess this is our life,” Susan said. “We’re going to have to grab private moments where we can.”
Just after ten o’clock, all three girls fell asleep at the same time. Eddie and Susan used the chance to get ready for bed. In their room, Eddie discovered that his closet was filled with the clothes he’d given away on the street.
By the time he’d brushed his teeth and undressed, Susan was already under the covers.
“Get in,” she told Eddie. “Who knows how long we’ve got until we’re up again.”
Eddie lay down beside her. He had so much to say, but the camera was still on.
“I really did miss you,” he said.
“Why don’t we turn out the light,” Susan answered.
“I love you,” Eddie told her, once the room was dark.
From the production suite next door, Moody engaged the night vision on the bedroom camera. In the darkness, Handsome Eddie Hartley reached for his wife so naturally it was impossible to say whether he even knew we were watching.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Ira Lippke
CHRISTOPHER BEHA is a deputy editor at Harper’s magazine. His essays and reviews have appeared in the New York Times Book Review, the London Review of Books, The Believer, Bookforum, and elsewhere. He is the author of the
novel What Happened to Sophie Wilder and the memoir The Whole Five Feet. A New York City native, he lives in Brooklyn with his wife.
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PRAISE FOR WHAT HAPPENED TO SOPHIE WILDER
“What Happened to Sophie Wilder is about many things—the New York publishing world, the growing pains of post-collegiate life, the rigors of Roman Catholicism—but at its center it’s a moving meditation on why and for whom we write.”
—New York Times Book Review (editor’s choice)
“A crisis of faith is key to the disappearance of a young woman in Christopher Beha’s What Happened to Sophie Wilder, which deftly renders the competing impulses—creative, intellectual, emotional—of young writers in New York.”
—Vogue
“In this smart short novel . . . a young writer deals with the reappearance and disappearance of the woman he sometimes loved.”
—O, The Oprah Magazine
“What Happened to Sophie Wilder is a remarkable first novel, which should especially be read by those who have given up on contemporary literature. Along with giving them something good to read, it will renew their faith in what literature is capable of achieving.”
—D. G. Myers, Commentary
“This novel is excitingly alert . . . to the ways we understand life in terms of stories, in particular the stories we tell about other people. . . . The story Beha tells about Charlie and Sophie is a convincing contemporary love story, not in spite of its sometimes dizzying self-awareness but, in large part, because of it.”
—San Francisco Chronicle
“Beha’s beautiful, whip-smart first novel . . . is sober, unsentimental and delivered with intelligence and passion.”
—Washington Post
ALSO BY CHRISTOPHER BEHA
FICTION
What Happened to Sophie Wilder
NONFICTION
The Whole Five Feet
CREDITS
Cover design by Steve Attardo
COPYRIGHT
Arts & Entertainments: A Novel Page 23
