The Cast

by Amy Blumenfeld

  “I’m not taking his side.” I crouched down next to her. “I’m always on your side, no matter what.”

  She raised her eyebrows, as if to say, Really? Doesn’t seem that way.

  “Look,” I said, “I agree he should have shown up last night, but it just seems like everyone has been ganging up on him. I guess my only point is that there are two sides to every story.” I thought back to the stricken look on Nolan’s face when he told me about the Thibault deal: how he knew he’d messed up, how sorry he was, and how that witch in the compliance department practically had his severance package ready to go. Add that to my inside scoop on how fear of losing your partner could fuck with your head, and, once again, I felt compelled to defend him.

  “How are there two sides to the fact that he’s trying to control me?”

  “Everything that comes out of my mouth today sounds wrong,” I said, but she offered no sympathy. “Here’s my point. You need to let Nolan work through his feelings. I know it’s not fair to you, and that the timing of this tantrum—or whatever you call it—definitely sucks, but he needs to get it out before he can clear his head.”

  “If he really loved me,” Becca said, “he’d get his act together.”

  “It’s not always that easy. Do you know how many conversations I’ve had with Sal—when we were dating and still, to this very day—about when you were sick? Not just about the details of the hair loss or your medicine or any of that . . .” I looked up at her face. “Becca, I thought you were going to die! Die! In ninth grade!”

  She was silent. I looked over at the audience and noticed Seth and Lex jumping and hooting, “JT!” If I hadn’t known better, I could have sworn they were two college kids on summer break.

  I glanced down at the grass. “And even when you went into remission and things got back to normal, it was never the same. I was never the same. Even now, all these years later, I worry every time my kids get a fever that maybe it isn’t just a virus—that a cough or afternoon nap could be masking something more. Their pediatrician hates me, you know—thinks I’m insane.”

  I could see Becca’s eyes had pooled.

  “My point is, there was a ripple effect. You weren’t the only one who suffered.”

  “I know,” she finally said. “But I don’t see how this relates to—”

  “Did I ever tell you I wrote a psych paper in college about the healthy siblings of ill children?” I asked, cutting her off. “There’s a body of research just about those kids.”

  She nodded.

  “Holly may have brought you algebra homework a couple of times, and Lex came over to paint your nails once in a while, but I was there nearly every day. Homework, then Love Connection with Chuck Woolery or a marathon Monopoly game. Remember?”

  “I remember,” she said, and dabbed at her eyes with the edge of her shirtsleeve.

  I kept going. “I never told you,” I continued, “but after most of those visits, I’d go home and fall apart. Sometimes I’d lash out at my parents; sometimes I’d write these long, melodramatic diary entries.”

  “You never told me,” she said, sniffling.

  “And then when I visited and saw you bald and scary skinny and I couldn’t touch you? Forget it. After that, I started checking things a hundred times before leaving my house. The lights. The alarm clock. The lock on the front door. I created routines to keep you alive. To make sure I didn’t catch it. I even made a pact with God that I’d give up Kit-Kats if it guaranteed your health.”

  “That’s why you stopped eating them? You used to love those! I never knew why you cut them out.”

  I shrugged. “I know I’m technically just a friend, but part of me feels like I’m one of those life partners who have been in a relationship for forty years and get denied hospital visitation rights because legally, they’re title-less.”

  I inhaled deeply and continued. “Bec, I’m getting away from my point here, which is that Nolan’s scared. He’s a good guy who’s just afraid of change. I can see it. And I have to say, I can sympathize. I’m not saying what he has done and said isn’t hurtful or shitty. I’m just saying hang in there. I really believe he will rise to the occasion. And you’ve got me to vent to in the meantime. Even if you piss me off with your cryptic texts . . .”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know how to tell you. You worked so hard, I just didn’t want to spoil the weekend. Plus, it was all so fresh and—”

  “This, my friends, is called true love!” I heard a familiar voice say. I looked up, and there was Holly. “This lawn is like an obstacle course! I must have stepped over two hundred pairs of legs.”

  Becca and I stood up to welcome her. Adam had already made himself at home on the folding chair beside Sal. Though it was still odd seeing my husband and former flame together, I was pleased that they got along well.

  Just then, a big boom sounded over the mountains in the distance, and red, white, and blue lights showered down through the night sky as James Taylor performed “On the Fourth of July.”

  Becca, Holly, and I turned to one another with knowing glances. I grabbed a blanket and folding chair and set them up beside the tree. Becca and I gently helped Holly into the chair, and then the two of us lay on the ground beside her, gazing up at the fireworks. We remained that way for several minutes without saying a word.

  “A quarter century,” Holly finally said softly.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” I remarked.

  “Do you remember what we were doing twenty-five years ago?” Holly asked.

  “Vividly,” I chuckled. “I spent the entire day watching my mother terrorize the Merry Maids of Bayside while they disinfected Becca’s parents’ house from top to bottom.”

  Becca laughed. “I remember hearing about that.”

  “It’s true!” Holly laughed. “Jordana’s mom morphed into a dictator right before my eyes—a freakin’ tyrant looking over their feather dusters to make sure every inch of that house was clean enough for your immune system.”

  “I remember sitting on your stoop after the Merry Maids left, waiting for you to come home,” I said. “I was counting down the minutes on the Swatch watch you got me for my tenth birthday.”

  “Oh my God, that trip home was exhausting. I get dizzy just thinking about it.” Becca put her hand on her forehead. “Between walking out of that hospital room for the first time in months, getting fresh air, and sitting in stop-and-go rush-hour traffic on the Fourth of July, I was completely wiped out.”

  “Do you remember your first request when you got to the house?” I asked, as a champagne cork flew by. I could hear the group on the other side of the tree making toasts.

  “The couch,” Becca said with certainty. “I just wanted the couch.”

  “Yes, you made a beeline for the couch, but do you remember what you asked me to get you? The only thing you wanted was ice water in a long-stemmed, thin-lipped glass. You directed me to the cabinet in the dining room where your mother kept the tall crystal goblets with the flowers etched on the side—the ones she inherited from her grandmother that you used to sneak out for our tea parties when we were little.”

  “How do you remember that?”

  “I’ll never forget it,” I said matter-of-factly. “I figured you would have wanted a home-cooked meal or something special, but all you craved was ice water! So I filled it up and handed it over, and you closed your eyes and relished it like you’d been in a desert for forty years. I think you even licked the condensation on the side of the glass.”

  “I had daydreams about those freakin’ glasses,” Becca said.

  “Hey, you guys need anything?” Seth asked. “I’m going to the snack stand.”

  “No, thanks,” we all said.

  Someone stumbled over my feet.

  “Hi girls!” Lex cried, as she crawled unsteadily, like a baby, up Becca’s extended legs and snuggled beside them. “Awwww, I love you guys! I’m soooo glad we’re doing this!”

  “We love
you, too, Lex,” Becca said, as she, Holly, and I shot wide-eyed looks at one another.

  James Taylor played “Shower the People,” and several couples nearby stood up and started dancing barefoot on the grass. A woman about twenty feet away ethereally twirled a hula hoop over her head and around her body like a 1960s flower child on LSD. I looked over at our crew and noticed how Becca was stroking Lex’s head. Lex grew quiet and calm. I wondered if she had drifted off to sleep.

  “Do you remember the blue scarf, Bec?” Lex finally piped up, her words muffled because her face was resting against Becca’s rib cage.

  Becca smiled. “I do. It was beautiful.”

  “It was silk, with a sort of Mondrian color-block pattern,” Lex said, her fingers drawing the squares in the air. “I went to Macy’s with my mother and didn’t know what to get you as a homecoming gift. They were having a Fourth of July sale, and I saw the scarf and I thought it was chic—like, Jackie O. chic. I figured if you had to wear something on your head, you might as well look elegant.”

  “I remember when you gave it to me,” Becca said.

  “The night you came home. We were on the brown couch in your parents’ den, watching the fireworks on TV,” Lex said with a smile.

  The crowd at Tanglewood began to suddenly cheer as the band started up “How Sweet It Is (to Be Loved by You).”

  “Come on, girls—get up!” Lex declared, and jumped to her feet, pulling the rest of us along with her.

  “I shut my eyes at night, wondering what am I gonna do without you in my life,” Lex shouted, wrapping her arm around Becca’s waist.

  “Wrong words, Lex!” Holly and I declared, and laughed.

  “Hey, I want in on this, too!” Seth yelled, as he deftly navigated the lawn’s intricate maze of coolers and chairs on his way back from the concession stand.

  He started singing and joined our kick line, linking up on the end beside Lex.

  This was the evening I had envisioned. With the fireworks, the friends, the music, I finally felt a semblance of fulfillment. It wasn’t exactly how I had thought it would play out, but when I looked over and saw all of us standing in a line, arms overlapping each other’s lower backs, I wished I had a camera to capture the moment. And then I noticed Lex’s hand slip down into the back pocket of Seth’s jeans, cupping and squeezing his butt. I squinted, unsure if my eyes had deceived me.

  “Bec!” I whispered loudly into her ear, and gestured with a head nod toward Seth’s rear end.

  Becca turned and then whipped back to me, a look of horror on her face. “Holy shit!”

  Unable to look away, we shifted our eyes back and watched as Seth surreptitiously glanced down at Lex beside him. He looked transfixed, as if he were about to lean in for a kiss. Instead, the two of them just stared at each other, volleying the words by you back and forth at the end of James Taylor’s “How Sweet It Is . . .” They were oblivious to the fact that Holly had traded our kick line for a folding chair and that Becca and I had started a running commentary on the sidelines like Statler and Waldorf—the two crotchety old men sitting in the balcony on The Muppet Show.

  “I guess the bottle of water you gave Lex didn’t help,” Becca muttered.

  “Should we remind her that she is married—with three kids—and that this is Seth?” I remarked angrily. “I mean, if you’re gonna go down Adultery Road, would you really cheat with Seth? Plus, wasn’t I his childhood crush? Not that I would ever want Seth—I mean, please—but when did he ever show an interest in her? I was the one he asked to his prom, not Lex!” I flashed back to that night at the Plaza Hotel and the look of astonishment on his classmates’ faces when we walked into the ballroom. They hadn’t believed him when he’d said his date would be a leggy blonde from another school. As soon as I realized my presence had exponentially raised his cool factor, I led him onto the dance floor and wrapped my arms around his neck, and we swayed to Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight.” When the song ended and a large contingent of Bronx Science’s senior class was still gawking, I kissed Seth’s cheek and he dipped me, for maximum effect. No one needed to know we were just old friends putting on a show.

  Becca remained fixated on the scene before us. “Lex has a family! What’s she doing?”

  “Should we stop them?” I asked, vacillating between whether to avert my eyes or interfere like a chaperone. I was still a bit shell-shocked that, in the course of my life, I’d occupied the top spot in the heart of not one but two of my male guests that weekend, and that in both instances, two of the women I was hosting had usurped me. What were the odds?

  Just then, we heard a female voice bark Seth’s name as if it were a question.

  “Seth?” the woman boomed from behind us. Becca and I jumped, spun around, and found a bronzed, statuesque, and incredibly toned woman with one hand on the waist of her cutoff denim shorts, and the other hand holding back the wide brim of her floppy straw hat.

  “Yvonne!” Seth exclaimed. He immediately plucked Lex’s hand from his back pocket as if it were a hot coal briquette burning a hole in his ass.

  Oh, Jesus, I thought, and covered my gaping mouth with my hand. This must be Seth’s girlfriend. Seth had mentioned he was dating a fitness instructor, and she certainly looked the part. I could easily envision her leading an Upper East Side spin class and chastising her clients for being wimpy.

  Then, with a shit-eating grin, Nolan strolled up, carrying a pink leopard-print duffel bag. “So,” he began, “while I was out on my walk, I found this very distressed young woman waiting at the security gate all by herself. Apparently, her boyfriend instructed her to call him when she arrived at Tanglewood. He promised he’d meet her at the entrance with her ticket. Poor thing had been out there stranded since the beginning of the show, leaving him repeated phone messages.”

  Seth buried his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry!” he said emphatically. “I totally screwed up!” He seemed paralyzed as the two women eyed each other. Yvonne gave Lex a cursory glance. Lex, on the other hand, took her time. She deliberately checked out Yvonne’s tanned, sculpted calves and chiseled face, and those taut butt cheeks that dipped ever so slightly beneath the white fringe of her Daisy Dukes.

  Nolan stuck out his palm. “Give me the ticket, Seth,” he said. “I sweet-talked the security guard into allowing her in. I told him I would be back in five minutes with her ticket.”

  “No,” Yvonne said, her eyes on Seth but her hand suddenly on Nolan’s shoulder. “Don’t bother. I never should have come.”

  I could only imagine that if I had worked most of the day, trekked three hours on a bus from the city, and then stood with my duffel bag at the entrance of Tanglewood, waiting forty-five minutes for my boyfriend to pick up his damn phone, then, I, too, would be exasperated to find him pawing another woman. I’d definitely want him to grovel and beg for forgiveness.

  “I’m sorry,” Seth said. Though he had stepped closer to her, I couldn’t detect a trace of remorse.

  Yvonne just stared at him, waiting.

  Seth made a fist and held it to his lips. He cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and said politely, “May I walk you out?”

  No! He did not just dismiss her like that, did he? I thought. I looked over at Lex, who was beaming unapologetically.

  “I don’t need you to walk me out,” Yvonne scoffed. “Thank you for helping me at the gate and for carrying my bag, Nolan. Seth, take a good look at your friend over here. This is what a true gentleman looks like.”

  “Ha! If you only knew!” Lex shouted.

  Nolan handed Yvonne her duffel bag.

  Yvonne reached over and tapped Becca’s arm. “You’ve got a good one here,” she said, motioning toward Nolan. “As you can see, there aren’t many of them left.”

  None of us spoke. Our group just stood there, barefoot on the grass, watching Yvonne and her suspended buttocks sashay away as James Taylor crooned “Fire and Rain.”

  Once her floppy hat had disappeared into the crowd, Seth g
rabbed a beer and downed it so quickly that I actually wondered if it was a deliberate gesture made to highlight his alignment with the inebriated Lex. As the rest of us started to fold up the blankets and seal the containers of food, a cell phone rang. It was Lex’s, and she sat down on the lid of a cooler to take the call.

  “Hi, sweeeetheart,” she answered in her mommy voice. Her enunciation was clear, but the delivery of her words was slower than normal. “Oh, I miss you, too. Yes, I know, it’s very loud here. I’m at a concert. James Taylor. No, not Taylor Swift. James Taylor.” Lex snatched a nearby bottle of water and gulped half of it down. “Of course I can buy you a souvenir. Okay, I love you, honey. Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow night.”

  Lex hung up and chugged the rest of the water. When she finished that one, she guzzled another and swallowed an aspirin. Based on her actions, I surmised that the conversation with her daughter had literally been a wake-up call.

  “I’m going to go check out the gift shop, if anyone cares to join me,” Lex announced, as she lifted the leather strap of her cross-body purse over her head.

  “I’ll go!” I blurted out, hoping to beat Seth to the punch. As host, I felt responsible for all of the events that took place over the weekend—even the ones beyond my control, like the repercussions of Lex’s behavior.

  Unfortunately, Seth had already started walking away with Lex. I stood there, a Tupperware lid in my hand, and watched as he playfully hip-bumped her to James Taylor’s “Mexico” and then disappeared into the night.

  Sal sidled up, kissed my head, and said softly, “It’s not your job.”

  “I know.” I sighed. It was as if he could read my mind, and I was flooded with a sense of good fortune. I turned to face my husband, reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, the Tupperware lid still in my hand. “I love you,” I said, and kissed his mouth. The thought of doing anything to jeopardize our marriage was unfathomable. Sure, we had our spats, but typically they were over benign matters, like the necessity of installing an iPad in a wall. We’d been lucky, and I knew it.