Unraveling

by Owen Thomas

  “Well, I’m not sure what the fun would be in that, but if you say so.”

  “Good God! She was right! Hollis, why the hell do you hide your Scotch in the back of…”

  “And, your brother David is here.”

  “Hey, Sis.”

  “Hey, big bro. You doin’ okay? Have you whipped the ninth grade into shape?”

  “Well, not exactly. Congratulations, Tilly. I’m real proud.”

  “Thanks Dave. I miss you. Come see me when you can.”

  “Do you have room for about a hundred and fifty high school freshmen?”

  “Tilly, this is Mom. David was hoping Mae would be able to join us, but she is very, very sick, or at least she was and might still be very, very sick, but I know she really wanted to be here and so far she’s not, so…”

  “And, Tilly, there’s someone else I want you to meet. This is a friend of mine. Bethany Koan. From New York. She’s in town applying to business schools.”

  “Hi Tilly. My God. Can I even call you that? Tilly, I mean?”

  “Hi, uh, Bethany was it? Sure. Call me Tilly.”

  “Tilly, I just want to say that I am a huge fan of yours. I think Peppermint Grove is the best movie. I just know you’re going to win. I just know it.”

  “Well, it’s a first nomination, Bethany. The odds are for Meryl Streep.”

  “It’s just a real honor to talk to you and I just have to say that you have the most wonderfully generous father. He has really been, well, just wonderful. Kind and wise and helpful. And I just know how grateful you must be to have had him, and of course your mother, when you were growing up.”

  “Oh … you have no idea, Bethany. Absolutely no…”

  “Okay, time for a toast.”

  “Good idea, Hollis. Your father is quoting the Buddha again, Tilly.”

  “Oh. Well. The Buddha. Let’s hear it, Dad.”

  “Tilly, I know you are busy so let’s raise our glasses…”

  “No, seriously. Just what does the Buddha have to say about me? I’d really like to know. I bet Bethany remembers.”

  “Oh, umm, it was something like It is a wise father that knows his own child. And he said that he felt wise because he always knew…”

  “I hate to break it to you, but that’s Shakespeare, not Buddha. And, worse yet, it’s a perversion of the original line from Homer.”

  “Really, dear? What’s the original line?”

  “It is a wise child that knows her own father.”

  “Oh my, you’re so smart sometimes I can’t even stand it.”

  “Okay, Tilly, I know you’re busy, so we are going to raise our glasses to you in recognition of this great honor.”

  “I prefer Oscar Wilde, myself.”

  “You’re always so good with writers, dear. What did he say?”

  “Children begin by loving their parents. After a time they judge them. Rarely, if ever, do they forgive them.”

  “Okay, let’s raise our glasses…”

  “Wait, Hollis. Tilly, this is mom again. Your father is getting ahead of himself as usual. We have something else to do before we toast. But first, dear, can you help settle a little dispute on this end?”

  “I’m not sure I like the sound of that... but, okay.”

  “Are you currently filming another picture?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, really? Hmm. Some people here were under the impression that you were.”

  “No. I am working on another project, but I’m not filming.”

  “Tilly, this is Dr. Swensen. What’s the project?”

  “Oh, I’m just auditioning and talking with some of the producers. It’s a science fiction movie based on a short story by a guy named Angus Mann. Published back in the sixties. I doubt any of you guys have heard of it. David might I guess. The Lion Tree?”

  “Yeah. He’s pretty good. He’s from Dayton, I think. Have you met him?”

  “No. I don’t think he’s even involved. I don’t know much about the production details yet.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “We’ll see. I’m still exploring it.”

  “Enough about the writer, Tilly…tell them who’s directing.”

  “Mom, we talked about this, remember?”

  “Oh, Tilly, don’t be so secretive. You’re just like David. Blaire Gaines! Can you believe it? Blair Gaines!”

  “Christ, Mom…”

  “That’s Blair Gaines of Ghengis at Midnight and… oh… oh… Obsidian Iris!”

  “Mom. I’m just auditioning. We’re just talking.”

  “Okay. Glasses up.”

  “Wait, wait, Hollis. We still have to do the reviews. Sweetie, we had everyone here do reviews of your performance in Peppermint Grove, and we’re going to read…”

  “Oh, God. Mom…”

  “We’re going to read them for you. Everyone wrote something down on little slips of paper that I passed out at the door and we’re going to read them to you. Okay. Who goes first? Bill and Dana.”

  “Uh, okay. Tilly, this is Dr. Swenson. Here is our review. Are you ready?”

  “No. But…”

  “A spectacular performance by the young Tilly Johns. She positively sparkles, delivering another jeweled character worthy of a Sundance nomination. Oh, thank you. No, the applause is for you, Tilly.”

  “Thank you doc. Thank you Dana.”

  “Who’s next? Gayle! You go.”

  “Okay. Uh, let’s see… Tilly Johns is magnificent in a role for which she is so obviously made. Especially the prison scenes. With tremendous cross-gender sexual magnetism, Johns is a shoe in for superstardom.”

  “Heeeyyy…Thanks Gayle. Cross-gender sexual magnetism, huh?”

  “Very hot, Tilly. I must say.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Okay, moving on. Who’s next?”

  “Tilly, this is Harris. Peaches is going to read ours. She’s got the lower voice.”

  “Think you can you pour some of that Scotch into the phone, Peaches?”

  “Hey, Scotch by phone. From you lips to God’s ears, Tilly. Don’t you look at me that way, Harris. And if you think I’m sharing any of this, you’ve got another thing comin’. I’m gonna start hidin’ my booze like Hollis. That’s what I call crazy-brilliant. You ready, movie star?”

  “Do it.”

  “Tilly Johns is terrific as the indomitable Katie Finn, betrayed by her father, forsaken by her mother, beaten by her husband and all but enslaved by the society that cannot forgive her as a woman. This is a tour de force performance that holds nothing back and yet so beautiful, so haunting in its portrayal… Christ Almighty, Harris. I can’t finish this crap, it goes on for one… two… three… three slips of paper. Here’s my version, Tilly. Shorter and better. Tilly Johns swings her backside around this story like a woman possessed. Anyone who doesn’t see this movie at least twice is helping the terrorists.”

  “Oh, Peaches...”

  “Ha! Good one Peaches!”

  “Thanks Peaches. Thank you Harris.”

  “Okay, I’m next. Listen up, doll. This is for you.”

  “Fire away, Rhonda.”

  “Tilly Johns, as the feisty Katie Finn, proves that she is the most underrated actor making movies today. Sex with Gene Hackman, under any circumstances, simply cannot be that enjoyable.”

  “Thanks Rhonda.”

  “You’re welcome, Sugar. You go teach that bitch Meryl a thing or two about making movies.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Okay. Well, that was interesting. Who’s next?”

  “I’ll go, Mrs. Johns. I’ll go next.”

  “It’s Susan. Susan. Please. Go ahead, Bethany.”

  “Okay. Thanks. Hi again, Tilly. This is me, Bethany Koan. Hi. Okay, here is my review. Okay. Gosh. I’m nervous. This is so exciting. Okay, okay. Calm down Beth. Here I go. … Tilly Johns’ ultimate achievement in Peppermint Grove is showing so convincingly that there is something of Katie Finn in every woman. We are lucky, e
ach of us, as women, to make Katie’s journey in one piece, surviving the tired expectations of the men in our lives and the society that caters to them. Katie Finn is a character brought colorfully to life, an inspiration to every woman who has ever dared to look the system straight in the eye and pull the trigger. Tilly’s acting is every bit as good as Katie’s aim.”

  “Whoa! Bethany! Where’d you find this doll, Hollis?”

  “Oh… gosh… thank you. I…”

  “Very good, dear. Very good. I’m impressed.”

  “Someone buy that woman a drink!”

  “I hope that wasn’t too long or anything. I just kind of …”

  “Wow. Bethany. I’m flattered. Thank you so much. I really appreciate that. Are you… are you a reviewer or something?”

  “Oh, gosh, no. No I’m not.”

  “That’s too bad. I need, like ten thousand more of you out here.”

  “Well. Okay. Who’s next? David. It’s your turn.”

  “Tilly?”

  “Yes, Dave.”

  “You will be delighted to know that, because I love you, I have conscientiously objected to this whole idea. I am not blurbing your work.”

  “You are a kind and loving brother.”

  “But if I did blurb your movie, it would probably have something to do with paying almost ten bucks to see more of your ass than your face.”

  “Ha… ha… ha.”

  “If you could teach that thing to emote then maybe you’d have something.”

  “David!”

  “Gee, thanks, Dave.”

  “By the way, my students want me to tell you that you are a goddess. I get much more attention and respect as your publicity agent than as a history teacher.”

  “That’s enough of that. Shame on you for not doing a review, David. Luckily, I anticipated that you would be a party pooper, so I wrote one for you and Mae. So don’t think that you can just…Oh! Oh! Look who’s here! Speak of the devil. Tilly, Mae just walked in! Come in! Come in! How are you feeling? You look okay to me. Oh, what good timing. You’re just in time, Mae. Everybody, this is Mae Chang, David’s delightful … well, I think girlfriend is currently appropriate, but we’re working on that.”

  “Mom…”

  “Mae, this is Dr. Bill Swenson and his wife, Dana, and Chris and Amanda Taylor, and Mikki and Jude Dobbs, and Harris and Peaches, and Rhonda Davenport, and my good friend Gayle Harley, and this is Bethany Koan, a good friend of Hollis’, since at least the day before yesterday...”

  “Hi Mae, it’s really great to meet you. David seems so nice.”

  “… And Tilly’s on the phone. Say hello.”

  “Oh. Uh, hi Tilly.”

  “Hi.”

  “Now, Mae, David is being a spoil sport, but I wrote this little review out for you to read to Tilly.”

  “Mom… oh, God, Mom… let’s not…”

  “Shush, David. Go ahead Mae.”

  “Uh… you want me to read… this?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “Nooo. I … I really couldn’t.”

  “Sure you can! Go ahead.”

  “Ooookay. Where? Right here?”

  “And on the back there.”

  “Uh… Tilly Johns is the most wonderful actress …”

  “Slower, dear. Slooower.”

  “…”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Nothing.”

  “Mom… Mae, don’t … Look, I didn’t have any idea…”

  “Tilly Johns is the most wonderful actress in Hollywood. She is beautiful and graceful and elegant, as though Grace Kelly has magically returned. Although she plays a role in Peppermint Grove that may seem gritty and harsh, her poise shines through in every scene. Tilly Johns deserves the top honor at Sundance, hands down, because her performance as Katie Finn was par excellence and because she is as superior a person as she is an accomplished actor.”

  “Oh. Well. Gee. Thanks, Mae. That was really sweet of you.”

  “Mae. Wait. I didn’t know. Wait a sec. Awww … shit. I’ll be right back. Thanks a bunch, Tilly. Bye.”

  “Bye, Dave. Good luck.”

  “David, wait! Ask her if she brought a casserole. David?”

  “What was that all about?”

  “Keep out of it Peaches.”

  “I have no intention of getting into it, Harris. But, if you ask me, that boy needs to cut the pussy strings.”

  “Peaches! For crying out loud.”

  “Well, chasing after her only gives her the wrong message. Right, Hollis?”

  “Well… David’s a pleaser. Always has been. Harris is right, though; better to stay…Well! What have we here?! Who is this young fella?!”

  “Oh my! Oh my!”

  “What’s happening? Mom? What’s happening?”

  “Oh Tilly! I wish you were here to see this. Ben intercepted Mae in the foyer. This is just so cute. He’s been so good and quiet in his room, I was just going to go check on him. I was just… Oh, not too tight, handsome. Not too tight. Are you giving Mae a big hug? We don’t want Mae to leave, do we? Don’t worry dear. He’s strong but he won’t hurt you. He just wants to dance. Just kind of go with it. Try not to fight it, dear. No… no, if you struggle, he’ll just hug you tighter. Just…”

  “The phone, Susan...”

  “Oooo… keep your balance, now.”

  “Move the phone, Susan. Move the phone. The phone!”

  “Oh! Oh! Look out!”

  “Ooooo…”

  “Ben, get off! No, roll this way. This way! Get off of her. Mae? Mae? Can you hear me?”

  “That’s gotta hurt. Time for another blast of that Scotch.”

  “Oh, Peaches…”

  CHAPTER 20 – Hollis

  Hollis Johns opened the door to his home and stepped aside, extending an open palm across the threshold. Bethany Koan slipped past him, turning only slightly sideways in the doorframe, and stepped into the foyer. She did not touch him as she passed, her right arm at her side pressing a tiny yellow purse to her body. And yet the pillow of air between her shoulder and his chest, between her hip and his leg, was lightly perfumed and electric. It was as though she had touched him.

  Hollis felt strangely abuzz tonight, as though every atom had picked up on the same vibratory frequency. His senses – his olfactory refinement, the tips of his fingers, his ears, the clarity of his vision – all seemed especially keen.

  Even his extra-sensory perception was keen. Waiting in the lobby of the Westin, the ding-ding from the direction of the elevator bay was incessant, mostly signaling the comings and goings of local Lion’s Club conventioneers preparing for a weekend of officer elections and highly scripted conviviality. And yet, in fifteen solid minutes of ding-dinging, Hollis had known precisely which one signaled her arrival. The sound had caused him to straighten himself and to fiddle with the cuffs of his shirt and to pretend to read the USA Today that was just too far down on the small end table at his shins for him to actually focus on anything below the headlines. Empire Americana: US Divided Over Iraq. And Reliving the Past: Have We Learned Anything?

  Hollis had pocketed one hand, then the other, and then looked up.

  A throng of doughy white men had rounded the corner out of the elevator bay, moving with a certain self-important, raucous pride, emblazoned on every lapel, breast pocket and baseball hat with their roaring, fraternal insignia.

  Sandwiched in among them, with her golden-blonde locks and her perfect face, floating effortlessly at the center of this coterie as though they carried her above the floor, was Bethany Koan. She was dipped to the knees in a simple dress of clingy yellow material that, in the dimmer illumination between the hallway ceiling spots, threatened and teased the very lightest shades of tawny orange.

  “I just can’t believe you never told me,” she whispered as she stepped into the foyer of his home. The din of multiple and competing conversations, each louder and merrier than the last, was flooding in from the direction of the living room. Rh
onda Davenport and Peaches Pinkle were sparring over something. They had all arrived, apparently, just as Susan had predicted, while he had been off chauffeuring his guest.

  “You just forget to mention that your daughter is Tilly Johns?” she asked.

  “Guess I’m just used to it,” he shrugged, closing the door. “Not really a big deal.”

  He had not, of course, forgotten. But his reasons for keeping this bit of information out of their conversations – opting for the more comfortably generic, my daughter instead of Tilly, and California instead of Hollywood – were as mysterious as his insistence that Bethany attend the very party in Tilly’s honor that he had always contended was so ridiculous. Hollis did not dwell on the reasons for these omissions, whatever they were. He was content that the reasons were there, somewhere in his head, part of a larger cosmic understanding that he had never really articulated, even to himself.

  Perhaps it was simply for the surprise. He could have predicted Bethany’s delight upon learning that this occasion was more than just a family gathering. And while the party Susan had concocted was silly, a true surprise at least lent the proceedings something genuine. Something he could look forward to. It was, in any event, he thought, a nice complement to the other surprise he had in store for her.

  “Not a big deal? It is too a big deal,” she insisted.

  “Well, I guess I thought it would be fun to surprise you.”

  “Oh, Hollis! You are so incredibly sweet.”

  Susan appeared in the hallway, pulling her lavender To Eat is Human, to Cook is Divine apron from around her neck. She stopped abruptly when she saw them. Whatever she had been thinking before that moment disappeared almost instantly, her face lightening in a warm, if not joyous, expression of hospitality.

  “Well! You must be Bethany. Welcome to our home, dear.”

  In the single hour he had been away to pick up Bethany, Susan had magically transformed from his wife – fretting nervously about the preparations and making frenzied, pointed declarations about his lack of assistance for a celebration of their daughter – into a professional hostess; relaxed, calm and, above all, gracious.

  “Hi, Mrs. Johns. It’s very nice to meet you.”

  “Please, call me Susan. What a lovely dress! Gorgeous yellow.”