"You've come to mean so much to the kids, and to me," Helen was saying as if she was too tired to stop the words. "But I don't want you to feel like I'm emotionally blackmailing you and making the fact that I need you desperately more important than your career because how self-centered would that be? I try not to be a diva except in the theater itself where things actually go more smoothly if someone's the diva and everybody else just better get on their marks and stop whining."
Helen paused, then gave herself a mock slap. "I'm babbling. I'm so tired. You think about it. You don't have to decide now. I'm going to shut up."
"I'll go," Laura said, and then she laughed-she couldn't help it.
So she was seven shades of a fool. It was just a couple of months out of her life and the simplest truth was that if she said no she'd regret it for always and forever. She reached across the table to clasp Helen's hand. She swore she could hear clack-clack-clack. "We'll both be fine."
For a moment she thought Helen might remember because she squeezed her hand so hard Laura knew it would ache. She didn't care. But then Helen let go so she could rub her face.
"I'm a mess. And I'm so grateful, so incredibly grateful." Her eyelids drooped.
"Let's get you home and into bed," Laura said.
Helen was asleep before Laura even made it back to the freeway. As she drove the sky was brightening and she could steal glances at Helen's face.
Seven shades of a fool, she reminded herself. That's what you are. She'll never love you the way you want. You've only put off the inevitable for three months. If you stay longer than that, she'll start to wonder why.
Life was strange with twists and corkscrews, ups and downs. As much as she hated the very thought, she thought she would rather Helen shun her for her drug history than pity her for a love that would never be returned. She tried telling her heart that every lesbian on the planet knew falling for straight women was trouble, but her heart wasn't listening.
Doing something you love and knowing it was for the last time added layers to every minute Helen spent in the Olympic Theater on Friday night. She had wanted to have the kids fly out and see the final performance, but the PSAT exams were tomorrow and they were more important. In another way she was glad they weren't there, because she wasn't sure how steady she was going to be, not given all that was at stake in the one-upmanship of backstage Broadway. Plus she loved Moxie-loved being Moxie. She'd miss her. She'd miss Jimmy and even Nancy, with whom she'd mended fences somewhat. She liked the theater itself, old with history, right off Shubert Alley. She walked streets that Helen Hayes had walked and she wanted to go on doing that.
Karolina had made it, though, and while Helen was glad she hadn't been alone last night and Karolina would be with her for the late-night cab ride to the airport before they went their separate ways in the terminals, she knew something was wrong. The sex was right, it had felt wonderful and even more natural to her. She didn't know what she had expected, but it seemed to her that nothing had changed…and shouldn't it have? Shouldn't something have deepened between them? Shouldn't she be a little more upset that it would be several weeks before Karolina and she could possibly get together again, and even then it was not for sure? Karolina had likewise not seemed concerned.
Backstage was crowded with press, many of whom were there to watch her skulk off after the performance into the darkness. She gave herself a mental shake. Sure, there were those who couldn't wait to see the back of her, because she took parts other people wanted and if she'd just get off the stage people would stop comparing lesser performers to her. But there were many genuine well-wishers, and she was going to give them the scoop on Auntie Mame. Cass was there to deflect and answer questions, and she was arriving with Helen's secret invited guest, because two lights on Broadway was always better than one.
She was very excited about the future, and couldn't wait to start rehearsals, but she had nine days to get the kids packed and moved and the house settled. Laura was constantly in her thoughts, and every time she called home it warmed her, unaccountably, to hear Laura's calm voice.
Looking at Moxie in the dressing room mirror for the last time she took a deep breath and banished the bitterness and grief. Tonight there was no time for her brief meditation. This was the first night of a new performance. Time to turn the page and focus on mitigating the damage to her family for the choices she had just made. "You've been good to me, doll," she said. "Let's go show them exactly what they'll miss."
She breezed out of her dressing room and into the heart of the gossip mill siege. Moxie gave her good armor and all critics knew that touching a performer in full costume and makeup before the show was bad-mannered. She didn't have to endure air kisses and false hugs-those would come later. Instead, she laughed, bantered and kept her distance as she raked the crowd for Cass.
The buzz of voices suddenly rippled away from her and she turned her head to see Cass and Trevor Huntley, who looked just as relaxed and tanned as he had on the cruise. What a dilemma for the press. They had a genuine event with Helen's final performance but here was a really big-name stage and movie star right in their midst. Why was he there? Who should they be focusing on-the dithering buzz made Helen smile. Trevor made it easy for them by making a beeline for her and planting a huge kiss on her cheek.
Her dresser shrieked in dismay and pulled out puffs and swabs. Voices called out to both of them, asking what exactly was going on. She left it to Trevor as she submitted to the minor repairs to her makeup. She'd evidently made a very strong impression on him during the cruise, and he had responded immediately to her email asking if he'd like to make some waves up and down the Great White Way. Their agents had conferred, then they brought in the lawyers for her, Trevor and the co-producers. With everyone acting professionally and driven by a decent respect and a modicum of trust, everything had been arranged in just a few days.
"Mrs. Baynor-lovely, talented Helen." Trevor was very good at laying it on thick. She'd told him it made him a natural-born producer. "Wonderful Helen and I would like to announce that we are now partners."
The room erupted with a barrage of questions. Cameras flashed. Her makeup repaired, she leaned lightly on Trevor's shoulder in a jaunty pose typical of Moxie. Trevor managed to look pained that it was too loud to speak and an almost immediate silence fell.
"We are now partners in Wisdom Productions, and our first event will be the sumptuous restaging of one of Broadway's most successful plays, Auntie Mame. Helen herself will take on the part I believe she was born to play."
The hush continued and Helen felt a flutter of panic.
"Wait for it," Cass muttered.
There was finally a collective sound, not like a confused Scooby Doo, thank God, but rather a collective "ah" as if fireworks had popped overhead. The pandemonium returned, then the stage lights flashed.
Oh poor press, Helen thought. Now they had to stay until after the play. Moxie winked at Trevor. "Thanks again for giving up that sunny island of yours to be here."
He returned her wink with one of his own. "My dear, all the sunshine in the world couldn't compare to you."
Moxie took her place on stage. The electricity in the audience was like flashes against her skin. Helen basked in the stage lights and gave herself completely over to the moment. The moment the curtain went up the audience erupted into applause.
The fire inside her met with the energy from the crowd and she burned, bright and pure, through every minute.
When the curtain went down she slowly became aware of the clamoring applause and shouts of "Hel-en, Hel-en." They took a cast bow, then the other cast members drew back and she stood alone, not afraid to let tears glisten in her eyes.
And because Moxie was no fool, she waved them to silence. "New York audiences are the best any performer could hope for. Thank you for your fabulous support. I can't wait to be back among all of you as your Auntie Mame next spring!"
The rest of the night was a blur. Cass was there to answer more
questions, and Trevor was obviously enjoying every moment of being a producer. He was besieged with cards from agents and reporters. Helen was able to refer everyone to Cass-at least for now.
The one moment that stood out for her, when time seemed to go back to operating at a normal pace, was when she introduced Cass to Karolina. They said all the right things to each other but Helen was painfully aware of the lack of warmth on both sides. Cass was being her usual hostile and suspicious self, and Karolina-harder to read-seemed to not really care whether she and Cass hit it off. When she'd met Justin's closest friend, the one who would later be Justin's best man, she'd been supremely aware that she wanted him to like her because it would make Justin happy, and his happiness had truly mattered to her.
Some things were so right between her and Karolina, she thought. The sex was amazing and they made each other laugh. Her own discomfort told her that she wasn't comfortable with a sex-and-good-times understanding, though. She knew what those hateful bigots said about gay people, and she had never believed them and wouldn't start now. If she was a lesbian, she still deserved happiness, and relationships that were as complete and fulfilling as she could make them.
Alone with Karolina finally, drained and wired all at once as their cab sped across Midtown toward JFK, she smoothed the skin on the back of Karolina's hand. She had amazing hands, and her fingers had done things Helen hadn't known were possible. Karolina hadn't said much, so Helen broke the silence with a quiet, "It's okay."
"What is?"
"That you're halfway hoping this is the last time."
The yellow lighting on the ceiling of the Queens-Midtown Tunnel flickered across Karolina's face. She looked surprised and chagrined. "Am I that obvious?"
"I know you have a very busy life."
"I wasn't looking for you, that's true. You kindled quite the fire." Her lips curved in a fond smile.
"That was mutual. And I'm okay with it having run out of gas."
"Your life is already chock-full, Helen. I just didn't want to seem love 'em and leave 'em-I didn't want to turn you off women because I'm not the marrying kind."
"I won't be turning off women." Helen leaned closer, not wanting the cab driver to overhear. "I will always thank you for that enlightenment."
"Je ne regrette rein?"
"I don't regret one single moment. Can I ask you one thing? Not because I'm ashamed, but because, well, you saw what the press can be like. I haven't had much private life to keep quiet, but I still value my privacy. I'd appreciate it if you were discreet."
Karolina nodded. "I wouldn't want anyone thinking I use the fundraiser events I arrange as a hunting ground of some kind. But I have one proviso."
They cleared the East River and emerged onto the expressway. At that late hour traffic flowed quickly and Helen relaxed, letting go of the perpetual worry that she would miss her flight. Laura was waiting for her and she hated to drag her out of bed needlessly. "Which is?"
"If you run for public office on an antigay platform I will out you in a heartbeat."
Helen laughed. "I'll consider politics if and only when I'm turned away from the last dinner theater in West Palm Beach."
Karolina held her hand tightly for a moment. "I am a little bit sad."
"Me too."
They parted with a gentle kiss. Women had such soft lips, Helen thought. They smelled so good. Inwardly, she was shaking her head at herself. Really, how could she not have realized this before?
So, she asked herself as she buckled herself into her seat for the long flight, if you don't have a girlfriend, who do you have to tell that you've figured out this surprising new thing about yourself? With all the upheaval of the next few weeks, she decided she would wait to resolve that question. The wild ride of the last few days had reached a lull, courtesy of an airplane. When she got home it would be a race to get ready for the moving van.
The moment the edict to remain full, upright and locked ended, she pushed her seat into the semireclined sleep position, tucked a pillow between her face and the bulkhead and decided for the next few hours she could relax. She smiled into the pillow and fell asleep thinking how nice it was knowing that Laura would be at the airport.
Part Six:
Heartline Roll
CHAPTER TWENTY
Every return to New York still held some anxiety for Laura. She hadn't been back in years, and yet the city held a dread magic for her. It was The Big Apple, a place where art in all forms, from performance to happenstance to painting to architecture, lived, breathed, walked. It was in the signs hanging on food trucks, the plants lining the sidewalks outside the Flower District shops, and the voices of the street vendors hawking tickets for the Improv. Midtown Manhattan was filthy, half under construction, crowded, hard as diamond and brimming with life energy. In all the places she had ever been, none matched Manhattan in passion for creative expression.
The past week and a half had been frantic. Julie was despondently resigned to the move, especially sad about leaving her friends and her herb garden project. Justin was still resentful, and trying not to be, because his after-school two-hour skate-a-thons with friends were cut off and the scuttlebutt was that skateboarding in New York wasn't even close to sick. She'd heard him protest to his mother that if they lived in Manhattan for long he'd never get a car.
Laura had mollified him somewhat; she'd promised him an inside look at some of the most famous kitchens in the city-she could mine her Facebook friends gathered from her decade working in Manhattan and the years as a resort gypsy. She'd met very few chefs who didn't love to show off their kitchens. It had been a very long time since she'd smelled a New York kitchen. She was pretty sure it wouldn't do more than remind her why she was sober. The difference between pretty sure and absolutely certain always caused anxiety, though.
They were in two cabs, traveling in tandem from JFK to Helen's condo. The small moving van with the carefully chosen items everyone had deemed essential to surviving in New York was at this point somewhere in Pennsylvania. Helen had constantly reminded them all that New York wasn't the hinterlands, and anything that could be bought was available in Manhattan. Having room for it, however, was an entirely different matter.
The condominium building was technically in Midtown on East Fifty-Sixth Street, halfway between Third and Lexington Avenues and just a few blocks from Bloomingdale's. But Laura could immediately tell that it had more in common with its cousins in the Upper East Side than it did with most Midtown properties. The foyer décor wasn't overly opulent but it was in flawless condition, from the pale marble tile to the settees and an antique writing desk which had been modified to include a charging station-anything a resident or resident's guest might need to make waiting a few minutes in the lobby bearable.
The doorman had a full array of security monitors behind his desk. He knew the twins, and Helen introduced him to Laura and he said he'd follow with the rest of their suitcases. They squeezed into the elevator with one rolling bag each.
She hadn't known what to expect from the condo. Helen didn't seem to have anything memorable to say about it beyond that the kids had, once upon a time, liked how close it had been to FAO Schwarz. It was certainly large by New York standards. The living room was spacious and a formal dining room was set off to one side. The kitchen, behind an old-fashioned swinging door, was to her right, and a hallway with a window at the end for light led to the four bedrooms and she'd been told each had its own bath. A powder room was adjacent to the small foyer. Looking around, Laura understood Helen's nonchalance. It was cold, for one thing, and sterile. It wasn't a home.
Wasn't a home yet, Laura thought. She was exhausted from the flight but she had one sure fix for the tired and long faces. While the kids dispiritedly trundled to their rooms with their suitcases and Helen did likewise, after pointing out Laura's room adjacent to hers, she made a beeline for the kitchen. A quick look confirmed that Helen never cooked. There weren't even cans of soup.
She made her way to the
door Helen had pointed out and liked her room well enough. It wasn't as large as the one in Woodside, and there was no sign of electronics-the kids had made it plain they expected a television and cable to be added to the living room in short order-but it was comfortable and had its own small bathroom.
She heard suitcase latches popping but she left hers closed and went to find Helen. Peeking into Helen's room she found it much like her own, though larger with a small sitting area, and decorated in the same costly and classic taupes and beiges. Here, at least, there were photographs of the kids, an abandoned water glass and beauty products on the dressing table. Someone lived in this room.
"I'm going to run out for about ten minutes," Laura said. "You'll be glad I did, I promise."
"Okay." Helen gave her a puzzled but trusting look.
She hurried out the door because she did want to be quick about her errand and to put some distance between her and Helen. Those looks were always from Helen the woman, and they made Laura's breath catch. For her, the attraction was palpable. It hadn't seemed so huge inside the house at Woodside, but the condo was small by comparison. Suddenly her longing to be wanted as more than a reliable employee, or possibly even a friend, had seemed to paint the walls in shivering reds.
It would be easier when Helen went to work. They wouldn't be in close quarters. She kept repeating that as she went into the market on the corner and found applesauce that was just cooked apples and water, quick oats, eggs, unbleached flour, white sugar, plain Greek yogurt, dye-free molasses, vegetable oil and raisins with the welcome ingredient list of "dried grapes, no preservatives." A half gallon of organic milk made the bag heavy, but it was a short walk and she was glad to know the nearest grocery had good quality staples. Given the neighborhood, she'd hoped that was the case. She would have liked to get butter, but she didn't know the brands, and coloring agents were so common that she wanted something that stated it was certified dye-free.
Roller Coaster Page 23
