Claire Voyant

by Saralee Rosenberg

  About the only thing we were willing to discuss was deciding how the rest of the day would play out. I said that I wanted to spend the afternoon with Grams. Drew loved that idea because he really needed to get to the office for few hours to catch up on some paperwork.

  But then I was sorry that we were doing the whole lay-low thing because I was suddenly dying to ask what exactly he did for a living. I knew, of course, that he worked for his father, but I was curious: Was it a real job with responsibilities, or was it a toy job like Delia’s? Show up whenever the tide rolled in to check messages and pick up a paycheck?

  Something else occurred to me as Drew drove me over to Grams’ place. Not only did I have no idea what Drew did, I didn’t know his age, rank, or serial number. Had not the slightest clue when his birthday was, and, more importantly, his astrological sign. Didn’t know if he was a morning person or a night owl, an athlete or a fan, a dreamer or a doer. Who were his friends? What were his hobbies?

  Nor did he really know anything about me. But given my recent track record of repelling the opposite sex, maybe that was just as well. In fact, before I said or did anything that turned him off and sent him running back to Marly, it was probably good to be taking a quick breather. Think about the day’s events. Then, when we saw each other again, we’d have clear heads.

  So I broke the silence barrier by telling him that I’d thought about it, and I was going to spend the night with Grams. That would give us both time to collect ourselves. And not to worry about bringing me a change of clothes. I’d bought enough toiletries, shorts and T’s at Target to stay for a week.

  To my surprise (and disappointment), Drew didn’t protest. There was no whining, no oh-come-on’s, I thought we were going to open that first box of condoms tonight. He simply said he thought it was the right thing for me to do.

  Me and my big mouth.

  I wasn’t sure what the world was coming to when a guy who had just broken his second engagement to the same girl didn’t seize the opportunity to have hot sex with a girl he’d shown “big” interest in only a few hours earlier.

  Or when I rang Gram’s bell, and she asked what I was doing there. What grandmother wouldn’t welcome the opportunity to spend some quality time with her beloved granddaughter, the very one who nearly died in her shower?

  Apparently my timing wasn’t great. She and some of her new lady friends were being taken to the movies, and when they got back were going to play cards and have coffee and cake with the fellas. “You can come see the picture if you want,” she offered.

  No, thanks. I wasn’t in the mood to spend a few hours in a dark theater with a bunch of old ladies who farted without shame, and who had zero hearing, so every five minutes they’d lean over to complain to their friend that they were tired of the actors who whispered. “Why can’t they speak up?”

  “What time do you think you’ll be back?” I asked.

  “In time for supper. You want to come back?”

  “Come back? I can’t leave, Grams. I don’t have a car. I got dropped off here.”

  “Oh. So do you want to make dinner?”

  “Who, me? You know I’ll end up setting off the smoke alarms.”

  “So what are you going to do? You can’t stay here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s restricted. You gotta be sixty-five or older.”

  “To live here, Grams. Not to visit.”

  “Oh. Uh-huh. Maybe watch some television, then.”

  “I can’t believe you’re leaving me here. You know these women four days. Now total strangers are more important than your own granddaughter?” Surprise. Two can play the guilt game.

  “Did you call your folks yet?”

  “No.”

  “Then I don’t need to spend no time with you.”

  “Are you serious? You’re mad at me? Why aren’t you mad at them? They’re the ones who made all the mistakes.”

  “Oh, stop singin’ the same song already. I heard enough of your broken record. So they made a little mistake. What’s the big hoo-ha? Did they beat you? Did they lock you in a closet? No. They took very good care of you, and believe you me, they did me a big favor, because I couldn’t have handled a baby in the house. Your grandfather, may he rest in peace, he said, nothing doing…like you was a little puppy I wanted to keep. I don’t know what I woulda done if Leonard and Roberta said no. So don’t go mouthin’ off about how they hurt your feelings or they lied to you…they saved your life. If I was you, missy, I’d pick up that phone right now and talk to them. They’ve been worried sick about you…. What are them bags for?”

  “I’m sorry.” I scratched my head. “What?”

  “Whadaya got in those bags?”

  “Oh. Just some things I picked up at Target. I thought I would stay with you tonight. There’s so much I have to tell you, and—”

  She checked her watch. “Oy. Now I’m late. Gotta meet the ladies downstairs, or I’ll miss the van. We’re going to see that picture with what’s-his-name. The one who was married to that actress I like. You know who I mean. The one who was in that other picture I liked. Call your parents, Claire. Then we’ll talk.”

  And that was that. My grandmother, who’d never known from close female companionship because she had no use for other people’s mishegas, was abandoning me in favor of a bunch of white-haired ladies she just met.

  Did you ever?

  But an hour later, I was actually happy that she’d left me to my own devices. I walked around the apartment, and remembered how excited I had felt the night that Drew first brought me over here. Little did I know then the extent to which thirty years of living could be suddenly hit by a Hummer and flattened by the force.

  How I was still standing was a mystery, I thought, as I scoured the kitchen for the makings of an edible lunch. Something that wasn’t no fat, no sodium, no thanks. Thank God for tuna. And the nice garden view off the little balcony.

  As I sat outside, feet propped on a plastic Parsons table, I realized that it was the first time in almost ten days that I was alone at the same time that I was of sound mind and body. The first time that there was enough clarity of thought to try and make sense of the enormous changes in my life that were about to unfold. Even though it was in the low eighties, I got such a chill.

  I thought about both Grams’ and Drew’s insistence that I call my parents to basically make amends and move on. Easy for them to say. I thought about Drew’s dilemma with Marly and the baby and shuddered at the thought that I had actually suggested it was okay for him to look the other way. But mostly I thought about me.

  Life as I knew it was over. So now what? Should I stay in Miami and take a shot at a relationship with a man who could decide to marry the mother of his child? Or should I try to forget Drew, stay down here anyway, and start my life over? Maybe work for Pablo at Case de Miro for a little while, just to have a place to go in the morning?

  Perhaps it would be best if I packed up and returned to New York, home of the world’s finest therapists (or rather, the most therapists). After serving time on the couch, I would consider adopting a foster child, so that I would have someone with whom I could commiserate when talking about how much life sucked for kids with substitute parents.

  Or maybe I should just return to my old life in L.A., spend my days reading the trades, hunting down producers, then begging them for a chance to be cast in their new whatever…. Scrap that. I couldn’t just show up in Santa Monica and pretend that I’d taken a short hiatus to visit the folks.

  Mostly I couldn’t fathom being in the same town as my mother the big star, knowing that she could put my career into play with one lousy phone call, but since she couldn’t even be bothered to speak to me, it was doubtful she would do something helpful on my behalf.

  Clearly none of the above options were appealing. But they did remind me how much I missed Sydney. Unlike my grandmother, she would be happy to hear from me, and she always knew the right thing to say when I was confu
sed.

  I grabbed my cell and went back out on the balcony. Turns out I was half right. Sydney was thrilled to hear from me and to learn that I was feeling better. But rather than being the shoulder I needed, she monopolized the conversation.

  I’d forgotten how complicated her life could get, between her crazy boyfriends, her crazy parents and their assorted spouses, and her crazy jobs that always seemed to require tasks that bordered on insane, if not illegal.

  I listened patiently, as I always did, but it bothered me that she was failing to appreciate the enormity of what was going on in my life. And that, for once, what was happening to me was more important than what was happening to her.

  When I realized that the part of the conversation where I would unburden myself was never going to happen, and maybe with Sydney it never had, I begged off, citing the need to get ready for my daily brain scan/spinal tap/blood transfusion. It’s possible that got her attention, but I wouldn’t know. I had already hung up.

  Who else could I call that would be willing to listen to me? Viktor, certainly. But the poor man had already been saddled with enough of my problems. He deserved a rest. Elyce? She could be a good listener, but after dodging so many of her calls, I knew I would be subjected to endless wedding chatter.

  Yesterday she’d left a message that her other (more dutiful) bridesmaids had decided to splurge on a four-day cruise to the Bahamas in lieu of a bachelorette party, and I should let her know right away if I wanted a single or a double cabin.

  I thought of a few other people who might be decent candidates for a heart-to-heart conversation, but no one who really understood me. Until a name popped into my head.

  “Good afternoon. Greene and Levinson.”

  “Hey, Linds. It’s me. What’s up?”

  “This isn’t Linds. It’s Diana. Who is this?”

  “Oh. Hi. I’m sorry. I thought you were my sister. This is Claire Greene. Where is Lindsey?”

  “Who?”

  “Lindsey Greene. Leonard’s other daughter?”

  “What department is she in?”

  “Department? Last I looked, it was just my dad and his partner, Marvin.”

  “Can you please hold? The phones are going crazy. Don’t people know it’s Saturday?”

  “Never mind.”

  I hit “end,” and then punched in the speed dial number for a cell phone number that I should have called first. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Claire, is that you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, what do you know? Nice to finally hear from you. To what do I owe the honor?”

  I thought about bantering with him, but it was a little like needing to pee really bad. There just wasn’t time.

  “Everything is a mess,” I blurted. “And I don’t know what to do.”

  Then, just as with the hundreds of calls to my father that preceded this one, those were my last coherent words before the dam burst, and I cried like only a Daddy’s girl could.

  Chapter 27

  WHEN I FIRST MOVED TO L.A., I IMMEDIATELY WENT INTO THERAPY, under the pretense that I had to be crazy to live there. In one session, I was asked to describe my father, and I remember passing go, not stopping to collect my two hundred dollars. “He’s pigheaded, close-minded, arrogant, rude, impatient, and a major pain in the ass,” I said.

  “And what are his attributes?”

  For that I had to stop and think. “He always knows what to do,” I replied.

  And it was true. No matter what kind of problem I presented him—a school problem, a personal problem, a work problem—he relied on his accountant, life-is-black-or-white mindset. There was no place for emotion in the equation. Every problem could be reduced to a simple, logical solution.

  And so, just as I had done all my life, I unburdened myself on my father once again.

  I told him about my growing affection for Drew, and the sad possibility that he would end up staying with Marly and the baby. I told him about the phone call from Penny that ended in a hang-up. About my confusion about where to live and what to do with my life. But mostly about how conflicted I was about him and my mother. That I couldn’t understand why everyone was insisting that I should be the one to try to work things out, as if this whole situation were my fault.

  To his credit, he never interrupted. Never made a snide comment. He just listened. Churned the issues in his computerlike brain, then spit out his answers with militarylike precision.

  “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “First thing is Drew…. I like the boy, I do. He’s a sweet kid. Seems like he’s on the ball. But this isn’t the best time for either of you to get involved, and timing is everything. The right person at the wrong time still doesn’t add up. I’m not saying don’t ever be with him, although it’s going to look strange to a lot of people, the whole cousin thing, but the lawyers will cut to the chase on that one…. I’m saying for right now you’ve got enough on your head without adding more complications. If there’s really something there, it’ll still be there six months from now, too.”

  “Six months? Are you serious? I can’t wait that long. I really, really like him, Daddy. He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before. He’s smart, and cute, and—”

  “Rich.” My father snorted. “God, does that family have money. You don’t even know….”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like he flaunts it. He took me shopping at Target this morning, and he bought just as much stuff as I did.”

  “Really? Who paid?”

  “Daddy!…He did.”

  “You know, I thought you’d go for him. I even said to your mother, you watch, Claire. She’s going to go for this one.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Are you kidding? He’s tall, dark, and handsome, he’s going to inherit an estate one day, that’s, phew…what a life you’d have….”

  “It’s not the money I like. I like him. Who he is as a person.”

  “So, fine. If he’s that terrific, be friends. Just don’t go jumping into the sack with him. Especially if he’s trying to figure out what to do with the other one…and what a nutcase she is.”

  “I know. She is so full of herself.”

  “Well, whatever. You don’t want him thinking about her while he’s shtupping you.”

  “Daddy!”

  “What! You know what I’m saying…. If this is meant to be, it’ll be.”

  “I guess.”

  “Now, as for your mother and me—”

  “I know what you’re going to say. I owe you both an apology.”

  “You bet your sweet ass! Your mother is devastated. She can’t eat, she can’t sleep—”

  “I’m sorry, but she—”

  “No. Uh-uh. There are no buts. You said some pretty shitty things, kiddo, and it broke her heart…. We know your issues. So, fine, we should have told you. But we can’t take it back. We made the decisions we thought were right at the time, and now they’re coming back to haunt us. But don’t question our love for you. Don’t question our pride or our devotion. There wasn’t a day that went by that we weren’t in your corner trying to be good parents.

  “God! It just killed me when you said we were too cheap to send you to that acting camp. But you weren’t aware that I found out from a buddy of mine that the owner was operating under bankruptcy protection. So what should I have done? Sent in the four grand, and waited for the letter that says, Sorry. We’re not opening this season. For refunds, the line forms to the left, and maybe you’ll get twenty cents on the dollar?”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “No, of course not. There are lots of things you didn’t know. That’s what parents do. They shelter their kids from the things they shouldn’t have to know.” He sighed. “Look, I can understand where you’re coming from. You see what Mom and I did as some kind of Watergate cover-up. But that’s not how it was, kiddo…. You were a newborn when this happened…too young to ever have any recollections…. I don’t know. At the time it seemed like the smart thing to
do. To just love you and raise you as our own and say to hell with the past. I think we honestly expected we’d tell you one day. Everyone we talked to, the Rabbi, family, friends, this child psychiatrist we went to…they all said the same thing: When the time is right, you’ll tell her. But the years went by, and that time never came…. And don’t get me wrong. You were a bright kid. Maybe too smart for your own good. I knew if we told you even a little bit, you’d ask a million questions, and we’d end up telling you more than you could have handled.

  “And then there was a point, I don’t know, you were maybe sixteen, when we realized we’d lost our big chance. By then you were in your angry, rebellious stage, and hitting you with something like this would have been the push you needed to do something stupid like get into drugs or go run off with that idiot biker you liked, what was his name…”

  “Kevin Albright.”

  “Yeah, That guy. I swear, when I found out you were sneaking around with him, I almost locked you up and threw away the key. What was he, like nineteen, twenty? My precious Claire, riding around town on the back seat of a Harley with some unemployed grease monkey who couldn’t keep his hands off you. You have no idea how many sleepless nights I had over that one.

  “Anyway, dear. What I’m trying to say is I love you, I have always loved you, and from the day I held you, I gave you my word to honor and protect you, and to try to give you the best life that I could.”

  “You did, Daddy,” I cried. “You gave me a great life. It was perfect, actually. I had everything I ever needed. A great family, lots of friends, a nice house, I got to go to camp every year, you bought me anything I asked for, we took all those great trips….”

  “Now, don’t cry, sweetheart. Please. You know what that does to me.”

  “And I’m so sorry. I know I said some awful things. I was just in shock. Everything came from out of nowhere, and you know how bad I am when I get blindsided. I completely freak out.”

  “We know. But it would sure be a big help if you called your mother for Mother’s Day. Tell her you love her and you’re sorry.”