“Do you still care about him?”
“I—uh—I don’t really know. I’m trying to figure it all out.”
“Hey there,” Dylan calls as he comes into the kitchen wearing only a bath towel. Then he sees me and looks embarrassed.
“I gotta go,” I tell them, running to my room. I close the door, but I can hear their voices. I’m sure Paige is telling him that I’m upset and brokenhearted and who knows what else. And, while all that’s true, most of my angst revolves around two things: one, I hate that Paige thinks it’s okay for Dylan to stay here, and two, I’m worried that I almost blew Fran’s cover just now.
I hurriedly pack some bags. There is no way I’m going to be comfortable staying in the condo with Paige and Dylan as they play house. I am so outta here.
“Where are you going now?” Paige asks as I emerge from my room with my bags.
“To Mollie’s,” I tell her.
She simply shrugs and I suspect she’s relieved to be rid of me. And to show her how I feel about the situation, I slam the door on my way out. Real mature, I know. But I can’t help myself. Then I drive to Mollie’s and am received almost as warmly there as at home.
“You could’ve called me,” Mollie tells me as we go down to her basement bedroom, which I helped her paint and redecorate several weeks ago. I’m surprised that it still looks cheerful and sweet. Not a bad place to live, really. “I was all ready to go to church and then you never came.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My mom even offered to drive me, but by then I knew I’d be late and have to sit alone, and I just figured, why bother?”
“I’m really sorry, Mollie.” And for the second time today, I start to cry.
Mollie’s eyes get wide. “Erin?”
“Sorry—I’m just having a—really hard day.”
“What’s wrong?”
I tell her about Paige and Dylan playing honeymooners at the condo and how I just don’t feel comfortable staying there.
“You can stay here with me.”
“Thanks.”
“That’s why you’re so upset?”
I sit down on her sofa and wonder … how much can I tell her?
“It’s something more, isn’t it?” She sits in the rocker and waits.
I sigh then nod.
“What?” she asks eagerly. “Tell me.”
“It’s supposed to be a secret.”
“You can trust me, Erin. I’m your best friend, right?”
I nod again. “But I promised not to tell.”
“Who did you promise? Blake? Paige?”
I lock eyes with her. “Do you promise, if I tell you, you won’t tell anyone?” I think about this. Who would she tell? Although she does enjoy the whole social network scene.
“I swear.” She holds up her hand. “Scout’s honor.”
“I mean it,” I say grimly. “You can’t tell anyone, Mollie. A person’s life could be at stake.”
“Seriously?” Now she looks really interested.
“Kind of seriously. Promise me you won’t tell anyone. And no Facebook or Twitter or anything like that.”
She puts her hand on her stomach. “I swear on the life of my baby, I will not tell.”
“Oh, Mollie, you don’t need to go that far. Although I appreciate that you see the seriousness of this.” I tell her about Fran. At first she actually seems a little disappointed, like she wanted the secret to be something juicier … more gossipy. That irritates me. So I go into detail about how sick Fran actually is, how she’s getting chemo and vomiting and totally miserable, and how she doesn’t even have the energy to open a can of soup.
“That’s rough.” Mollie rubs her belly. “I can relate on some levels.” She reminds me of how she had morning sickness really bad.
“And now Fran’s hair is starting to fall out,” I add. “In big clumps. And we’re supposed to go to the Bahamas in less than two weeks.”
“Oh no!” Mollie’s hand flies to her mouth. “That is really sad. Poor Fran!”
I try not to react to the fact that it took hair-loss issues to get to Mollie, but I do feel somewhat appalled.
Now Mollie looks confused. “But why are you telling me?”
“Because that’s why I didn’t make it to church. I spent the night at Fran’s and Paige assumed I was with Blake.”
Mollie chuckles. “Well, that just shows how little your own sister knows you.”
I roll my eyes. “She knows me. She was just trying to get my goat because I was so ticked about her and Dylan shacking up.”
“Shacking up?” Mollie lets out a hoot of laughter. “Who even says that?”
I shrug. “Anyway, I told Paige I was coming to stay with you.”
“And so you are.”
“But I think I might have to go help with Fran.”
Mollie looks disappointed. “Doesn’t she have any friends or family of her own?”
“Not really.”
“Oh.”
“So I was hoping you could cover for me. In case Paige happened to call here, which is highly unlikely since I’ll have my cell phone, but if it happened and if I was at Fran’s, you could somehow, without actually lying, cover for me.”
“I guess so.” She frowns. “I still don’t get why you don’t want Paige to know. Why is it okay for you to know, but not her?”
I explain how I found out. “Fran never would’ve told me. And she doesn’t want anyone to know because she really needs her job. And you know Paige—if she knew about this, she’d throw a fit. Fran’s not stupid. She knows she’ll have to quit if the word gets out.”
“How can she do her job when she’s so sick?”
I close my eyes and lean my head back. “I … don’t … know.”
“It’s going to come out in the open eventually, Erin.”
I open my eyes at this. “Yes. Probably so. But Fran is so hopeful. She has her treatments on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday so she can work during the week. And she actually pulls it off … kind of. Her job is everything to her, Mollie, and I’m afraid if she loses that, well, she might just give up.”
“Wow.”
“So, anyway, I want to help her as much as I can. If it looks like she really can’t handle the Bahamas trip … well, I’ll deal with that when the time comes.”
“That’s a heavy load to carry.”
“Well, I did tell my mom. But I swore her to secrecy.”
“You know, I think it’s cool you’re helping her, Erin.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s the Christian thing to do.”
“I’ve really been praying for her.”
Mollie nods. “I’ll start praying for her too. And if there’s anything I can do …” She frowns at her big belly. “Which is probably unlikely given the condition I’m in … but if there is, let me know.”
“Thanks.” I tell her about how I took Fran to her chemo treatment and back to her apartment a couple hours ago. “I only went back to the condo to grab a change of clothes, because I think I need to spend the night with her again. I’m afraid today’s chemo is really going to knock her off her feet.”
“Well, when Fran feels better, which I hope is soon, you’re welcome here.” Mollie smiles hopefully. “I would actually enjoy the company.”
When I make it back to Fran’s I discover that my prediction was spot on. Unfortunately, she’s as sick as a dog. The new anti-nausea drugs aren’t working and she’s so wiped out that I honestly fear for her life. But when I ask about calling the hospital, she shakes her head. “Wait,” she gasps. “It will pass.”
By around three in the morning, it does pass, at least enough for her to finally go to sleep. Feeling fairly whipped myself, I clean up a few messes that I know can’t wait until morning and then crash in her guest room. But when the sun is barely up, I hear Fran dry heaving again.
I do what I can, but I honestly feel like I’m in way over my head. If my mom weren’t in Paris, which she should be by now
, I would be calling her for help. As it is, I am on my own. Somehow I manage to get Fran to eat a small bowl of Cheerios and milk. She sleeps soundly until noon then miraculously gets up, takes a shower, gets dressed, wraps a stylish scarf around her head, puts on makeup and jewelry, and says she is going to work.
“Not without me, you aren’t.”
She blinks. “You can’t suddenly become my escort in the workplace, Erin. People will get suspicious.”
“No they won’t.” I shove my feet into my sandals. “I’m going to be your new intern.”
“My intern?”
I nod and reach for my bag. “I actually would like to learn about production.”
She looks at me as if a light just went on. “You know, that’s not a bad idea at all.”
“Yeah.” I grin at her. “I thought of it myself.”
As I’m driving Fran to work, I’m thinking maybe I’ve found the silver lining in this dark cloud—for me anyway. I’ll get some hands-on training in television production, something that already interests me anyway, and Fran will get some much-needed help.
Chapter
10
After Dylan returns to New York, Paige and I seem to be having a standoff. We avoid each other, barely exchange words, go our separate ways. I don’t even bother to tell Paige where I am when I don’t come home. I know that’s immature on my part, but the truth is I’m irritated at my sister. I think it was extremely selfish of her to let Dylan stay in our condo. So when I go AWOL, I actually hope she’s worried, although I’m sure she assumes I’m at Mollie’s, and most likely she doesn’t even care. She’s probably happy to have the condo to herself. It seems like she’s in her own little world anyway.
I’m still helping Fran at work, and I spend the next weekend at her apartment. I drive her to chemo treatments, cook and clean, get groceries, and do everything I can to help her get through this. She’s got a couple of wigs now and an appointment for a spray-on tan next week, and she’s still determined to make the Bahamas trip, which is in just over a week. I don’t know what to think.
On Sunday, after her last chemo appointment, I’m tempted to ask the medical professionals if it’s safe for her to travel, but I know that would be stepping over the line. So I keep my mouth shut, reminding myself that she’ll have the rest of the week to get stronger. And maybe by Saturday, with no chemo treatments to drag her back down, she will finally turn that corner to a real recovery like she’s hoping. It may be unrealistic, but it’s what I’m praying for.
“If you were Catholic, I’d think you were applying for sainthood,” Mollie tells me on Wednesday night. I’m sleeping over at her place, and I’ve just given her a progress report on Fran.
“Very funny.”
“Seriously, Erin. You’re like Fran’s lifeline. Does she appreciate it?”
I shrug. “Sometimes she does. Sometimes it seems like I’m just aggravating her.” Like today, when Fran got so cranky in the editing room that I just had to go do something else.
“Maybe being sick makes her moody,” Mollie suggests as she removes a puffed-up popcorn bag from the microwave. We’re watching an old movie tonight. “You know how out of sorts I can be with this pregnancy sometimes.”
I only smile. No way am I answering that one.
“So are you and Paige speaking yet?”
“Not much.” This is an understatement.
“Won’t that make your Bahamas trip a bit awkward?”
“I don’t know. Paige and I have had our ups and downs before. I’m sure we’ll work this out by then.”
“Does that mean you’ve forgiven her?”
I consider this. The truth is, I’ve been waiting for her to apologize to me. But I have a feeling there might be flaw in my reasoning.
“Because you know you’ll have to,” Mollie persists as she pops open a ginger ale.
“I know.” I grab my soda and put the DVD in, eager to end this conversation and get lost in an old flick. I know I’ll have to deal with Paige … later. Why obsess over it now?
The next day, as we’re going into the studio for a final strategy meeting for the Bahamas trip, which is only two days away, Paige is especially snooty to me.
“Nice to see you could make it here today,” she says to me as we meet going into the building. “Nice outfit.” I can tell by her expression that it’s not a genuine compliment. And when I look at my slightly rumpled jeans and T-shirt, I get it. Still, it’s not like I took a special wardrobe over to Mollie’s with me. And it’s not like we’re filming today.
“Thanks,” I say in a cool tone. We walk silently past the executive offices, and I’m thinking this meeting is not going to go well. As we enter the conference room I ask her, “So … why wouldn’t I make it here today?”
She gives me her innocent smile, the fake one. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s just that you seem to be running around quite a bit lately. I thought maybe you’d forgotten all about the show.”
Fran and some of the crew are already in the conference room, and Fran looks curiously at Paige and back at me. “Doesn’t Paige know you’ve been interning for me?” she asks in an irked tone. I can’t tell if she’s irritated at me or at Paige.
“Erin hasn’t been home since our mom got married,” Paige says lightly as she takes her usual place at one end of the table. Helen always takes the other end, and sometimes it’s hard to tell which of them is really running this show.
Fran gives us a blank look, as if my comings and goings don’t concern her in the least. I try not to take offense.
“I haven’t forgotten our show,” I say to Paige. “In fact, I’ve learned a lot about it by working in the editing room these past two weeks. Maybe you should try it sometime too. It adds a whole new perspective to — ”
“I think my perspective is working quite well, thank you very much.”
JJ chuckles. “Sounds like the sisters are having a squabble.”
Paige gives him a big smile. “Not me. I’m not squabbling with anyone.”
Helen comes in right after Paige’s comment, and the focus changes to the upcoming trip. While Fran isn’t as animated as she used to be in the BC (before cancer) days, she seems to be holding her own. I notice her forehead beading with perspiration though, and she’s drinking a fair amount of water. I wish I’d thought to bring some raw almonds. Those seem to help with her nausea. I also wish that Leah were here to help carry Fran’s load, but it sounds like she’s tied up in the office taking care of last-minute arrangements.
Finally the meeting winds down and the crew, who will be flying out tomorrow to set up ahead of our arrival, excuse themselves. Now it’s just Fran, Helen, Paige, and me.
Helen clears her throat then looks at Paige and me with a creased brow. “Is something bothering you two?”
Paige just shrugs.
“I haven’t been home much lately,” I say to Helen. “Maybe Paige has been missing me.”
Paige laughs sarcastically.
“Does this have anything to do with your mother being gone?” Helen adjusts her glasses, studying us closely.
“Maybe,” I admit. “I doubt that Paige would be doing the things she has if Mom wasn’t out of the country.”
Helen’s brows lift and she turns her attention to Paige. ”Meaning?“
Paige shoots me a warning look. “Meaning Erin doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
Helen nods to the open door, and Fran gets up to close it. “I want to know what is going on with you girls, and I want to know now.” Helen’s expression is grim. “Out with it.”
I look nervously at Paige, wondering why I even opened my mouth.
“Erin?” Helen points her finger at me. “Talk.”
I give Fran a helpless look, as if I think she can help.
“I think the girls are going through a transition period,” Fran tries. “It seems only natural.”
Helen looks as if she’s considering this.
“And it’s true I haven’t be
en home. I’ve been staying with my friend Mollie,” I say to Helen. “She’s in her final trimester of pregnancy and she gets lonely.”
“Oh …” Helen nods. “And perhaps Paige is missing her little sister?”
I try not to laugh.
“I’ve been lonely too,” Paige admits. For some reason I almost believe her. “Erin hasn’t been checking in with me at all.”
“Is Erin expected to check in with you?” Helen asks. “I mean, since your mother is gone?”
“Well … we haven’t really established rules.” Paige twists her mouth to one side. “But maybe we should.”
Helen turns back to me. “Paige makes a good point, Erin. Although you’re both adults, it’s still important to have accountability when sharing a home. No matter how old you are.”
“That’s true.” I nod, but I’m feeling like the scapegoat here.
“And it’s a two-way street.” Fran directs her comment to Paige.
“I know.” Paige almost sounds contrite. “I’ll try to do better.”
For some reason this is encouraging. Like she’s taking some of the blame, although I still feel most of the fault is hers.
“So, friends again?” Helen asks hopefully.
I force a smile. “Of course. We’re sisters, we have to be friends.”
Helen laughs as if she knows better. Paige gets out of her chair, comes over, and makes a production of hugging me.
“I still love you, little sister.”
I act like this is fine, but underneath my smile, I feel even madder now. I’m halfway tempted to just spill the beans, but it’s hard to break the code of sisterhood—no matter how badly I want to. Plus Paige would simply shrug it off, since “being engaged is practically married” in her mind. Even so, I wonder how Helen and Fran would react if they knew about Paige and Dylan’s tryst at the condo. After all, Helen has warned Paige to protect her reputation, to keep it clean—would she care that Paige cohabited with her fiancée last week? Or would Helen simply look the other way and chalk it up to normal behavior for engaged couples? After all, this is Hollywood. Really, who do I think I’m fooling?
“I thought you were going to get a spray-on tan.” Paige frowns at me. “You’re going to look like a brunette albino next to me.”
Glamour Page 8
