I tell her my room number and, feeling a great sense of relief, pull on some sweats and start making coffee. Before long Mom and I are hugging.
“I don’t think Paige is awake yet,” I say as I hand her a cup of coffee.
“I didn’t expect she would be.”
I order us some breakfast, and Fran’s as well. While we wait, we have our coffee on the terrace, enjoying the fresh morning air and the view.
“Ah, paradise.” Mom smiles happily.
“It really is beautiful.” I look out to where the palm trees are swaying in the breeze, the ocean is varying shades of turquoise and sapphire, and a few white clouds interrupt the clear blue sky as they wisp along. So peaceful … especially in the morning.
“You’d never suspect there’s a hurricane’s brewing out there in the Atlantic.”
“Really?” I stare out at the serene scene.
“I saw it on the news at LAX last night. You hadn’t heard?”
“No. I haven’t really been paying attention to the news. Is it supposed to come near here?”
“I think there’s a slim chance, but you know how those things go. You never can tell.”
“I haven’t heard a word about it.” I frown.
“Probably because it’s unlikely it’ll actually develop into anything serious. That’s pretty rare this time of year.”
“Even so, it would sure put a damper on some of these fashion shows. You’d think someone might’ve mentioned it.”
“I’m guessing Fran hasn’t heard anything either.” Mom takes a sip of coffee. “How is she anyway?”
“I haven’t checked on her yet this morning.” I glance inside my room, to the adjoining door I left partially open. “She was pretty bad yesterday. Maybe I should check on her.”
“Maybe so.”
As I head to Fran’s room, I realize she has no idea my mom is coming, or is in fact here now. I wonder how I’ll break this to her. But when I see her, still in bed and looking just as worn out as yesterday, I have a feeling she won’t care. Maybe she’ll even be relieved.
“How are you feeling?” I ask quietly.
She sighs. “About the same.”
“I tried to call Helen,” I tell her. “Anyway, I left a message.”
“Did you tell her about me?”
“No … I just asked her to call back.”
“Did she?” Fran’s eyes seem almost fearful, like she sees everything coming to a quick, unhappy ending.
I explain about my mom being here and how she’ll step in as director, if that’s okay with Fran.
Fran blinks. “Well, I guess I have no choice.”
“Maybe if you rest and eat the right things … maybe you’ll perk up in a few days. You know, like you were doing before.”
“Maybe.” Her brow creases with doubt.
“Anyway, I ordered you some breakfast.” I move around the room, straightening here and there. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like to make sure you get some housekeeping service today. Even if you have to be here while the maid comes in.”
“Yes … that’s okay … I don’t expect you to do my housekeeping.” There’s a bitter edge to her voice, and I try not to feel resentful as I heat up some water for her tea.
“My mom says there’s a hurricane coming.”
“Coming here?”
“Well, that’s hard to say. But apparently it’s out there.”
“Give me the remote,” she commands.
I hand her the remote, and while she’s jumping from channel to channel I make her a cup of green tea, adding just a little sugar the way she likes it. I also set her box of crackers by her bed. “Try to get something in your stomach,” I tell her, “until breakfast gets here.”
“There it is,” she tells me, pointing to the Weather Channel. “Hurricane Bruce is missing Haiti and passing along Turks and Caicos today.”
“Meaning?”
“If it stays on course, it might pass us by.”
“It might?”
She picks up her tea. “Or it might not.”
“You probably already feel like you’ve been hit by a hurricane.”
She barely nods. “Hurricane Leukemia.”
“I was reading online about bone marrow transplants,” I tell her. “It sounded pretty hopeful.”
She sets down her tea with a thud. “Yes—hopeful for those who find a match.”
“So have you been looking?”
“Oh, sure, my doctor has me registered. If a match ever comes through … if I last long enough … I might get a chance.”
“I was thinking that maybe I should register,” I say quietly.
She gives me a half smile. “You think you’d be my match?”
“No … I mean, I doubt it. But I might be able to help someone.”
She closes her eyes and leans back. “I’m so tired … Erin … so tired.”
I take the hint and leave her to rest. When I get back to my room, Mom isn’t there. I check the bathroom, and she’s not there either. Then I hear loud voices in the room next to mine—Paige’s room. As I press my ear to the wall, I can hear that it’s Mom and Paige and Dylan—and it doesn’t sound good.
“Well, I certainly didn’t expect that,” Mom says as she comes back into the room.
“Was Dylan there?” I ask cautiously.
She nods and sits down, crossing one leg over the other and pressing her lips tightly together.
“He spent the night?” I say quietly.
She nods again, then shakes her head. “I am so ashamed.”
“Ashamed?” I try to grasp this. “Of Paige?”
“Of myself.”
“Oh … ?” I wonder if she thinks she’s been a negligent mother. And maybe she has been distracted, but to be fair, Paige and I are both over eighteen.
“I’m ashamed that I’m acting like my mother.”
“Huh?”
“I just laid into Paige and Dylan, treating them like errant children.” She covers her face with her hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”
Okay, now I’m really confused. “You’re embarrassed?”
“Yes. It was very immature on my part.”
“Why?”
She looks at me in surprise. “Why?”
“Yes. Why? I mean, they’re not married yet.”
“Well, yes … but they are engaged, Erin.”
“I know. But what about waiting for the wedding?”
She looks confused. “I suppose that’s what I hoped they would do. But I realize that’s not the way people are nowadays.”
“Why not?” I demand. “Whatever happened to saving yourself for marriage?”
“I know you take abstinence seriously, Erin. I really respect that. But Paige is different. I need to respect that too.”
Fortunately, room service arrives. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve said if we’d continued this conversation. It’s not exactly like a double standard, but something about this conversation feels whacked to me. And, once again, I feel like the odd woman out.
Chapter
15
For a variety of reasons, I’m extremely relieved to part ways with Paige, Mom, and the crew. Despite my opinion, which is quite outnumbered, Mom apologized to Paige and Dylan. I’m trying to get over it, but I still feel like I must’ve been born in the wrong generation, or about a hundred years too late. Consequently, I’m very quiet as Alistair drives us over to the Eco Show.
“Everything okay with you?” he asks in a slightly concerned tone.
“Yeah. Sorry, I guess I was just thinking.” I glance over my notes.
“It’s cool that your mom could come out and help with the show.”
“I think Fran appreciates it.”
“How’s Fran doing?” he asks as he turns toward the hotel that’s hosting the Eco Show.
“I think she’ll be better with some rest.”
“Tell her I’m thinking of her.”
“I will.” I change the subject as he
pulls into the line of traffic snaking toward the entrance. “So did you hear about the hurricane?”
“Yeah, but it sounds like it’s going to miss this island.”
“I’m sure that will make a lot of people happy.” I start to gather my things as he pulls under the portico. He tells me he’ll catch up with me inside.
My plan is to stay as busy as possible in the Bahamas from now on. I will escape the confusion of my family’s personal problems, as well as Fran’s health challenges, by losing myself in the show. It seems a sensible plan. As a matter of fact, I realize now that all this busyness has helped me escape from my own personal life as well. I have barely thought twice about Blake. And, for now, that’s how I’d like to keep it. Like my mom said, work can be therapeutic. And in my case, it’s more like a path to amnesia.
I start by interviewing Rhiannon, who is like a breath of fresh air in this crazy fashion world. Like me, she’s a Christian who tries to mesh her beliefs into her work.
“I believe God gave me a gift of creativity,” she says to me about midway through the interview. “As well as a love of fashion. At first I was uncertain about the whole thing. I thought maybe it was wrong for a Christian to be involved in the fashion industry.”
“And why is that?” I ask.
“The fashion industry has a reputation.” She smiles.
“A reputation for what?”
“Oh, you know. Drugs, money, warped values … body image problems. The works.”
“So how do you reconcile that?” I ask.
“Well, I realized that those issues are everywhere. And, yes, they’re present in this industry too. But I thought maybe if I brought my creativity into the industry, maybe if I brought my beliefs … you know.” She shrugs. “Maybe I can make a difference. Even if it’s in a small way.”
“I think you’re making a difference,” I tell her. “Maybe in a big way too. And speaking of differences, tell me a bit about your philosophy for green design. We know you’re a participant in the Eco Show. Can you share with our viewers why designing green clothes is important to you?”
“To start with, I was brought up in a fairly impoverished home. So I learned early on to make do with whatever was at hand. I also learned to sew. If I needed an outfit for an event, I would sometimes take something from my mom’s closet and rework it into something different. Or else I would hit the local thrift stores. So reusing and recycling comes naturally to me. I thrive on vintage. In high school I lived with several girls—”
“Is this the house you lived in with Katherine Carter, former editor of Couture magazine?”
“Yes. Mrs. Carter graciously allowed me to live in her home for free. In fact, she is one of the major reasons I am where I am today. It was quite a challenge living with a bunch of rich girls.” Her eyes twinkle as she smiles. “I tried hard to keep up in regard to fashion. That’s when I really had to gather lots of retro and vintage clothes and fabrics and accessories, reworking them into something fresh and new. It wasn’t long before I started designing for some of my friends.”
“Including renowned model Taylor Mitchell?” I ask.
“That’s right. As well as my new business partner, Eliza Wilton, who recently retired from modeling.”
We talk awhile longer, but because Rhiannon still has lastminute preparations to attend to, we end it. “We’ll be getting footage of your show,” I promise. “And if you don’t mind, I’ll do some behind-the-scenes shots too.”
“Of course I don’t mind.” She beams. “Being on your show is fantastic. Thanks so much for thinking of me.”
“And thank you for what you contribute to the fashion industry, Rhiannon.” I wave at Alistair now. “Seriously,” I say quietly to her as soon as Alistair’s camera is down. “I’m so glad you’re doing what you’re doing. It’s easy to feel jaded in this industry.”
She gets a thoughtful look. “You know … whenever I feel jaded or negative about something, I try to remember to ask myself: What am I looking at?” She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Because I never feel jaded when my eyes are on God, Erin.”
“Wow, that’s good to remember. Thanks.”
“So are you coming to the Eco Show’s after party tonight?” Rhiannon asks.
“I, uh, I don’t know. I mean, I wasn’t invited or—”
“Come with me,” she says suddenly. “Be my guest. Eliza’s going to a different party. One of the British designers is having a big shindig. But I want to do the eco party. It’s more my style.”
“I’d love to go, but I should check with my sister first.”
“Sure. I’m guessing she’ll be at the other one. Call me if you decide you want to come. It might be easier just to meet there.”
I thank her again and wish her good luck, and then Alistair and I do a quick interview with Eliza, which Rhiannon suggested. As I hear Eliza talking about the business end of things, I’m impressed that she’s quite knowledgeable. I think maybe she and Rhiannon make a good pair despite their obvious differences. After this ends, I find my seat near the runway while Alistair takes a spot on the sidelines with the other photographers.
Rhiannon’s show is short but delightful. Her line of clothes is light and breezy, fairy-like in an island sort of way. She utilizes some soft, natural fibers, colored with vegetable dyes. Her look is very different from the other designers, but it’s romantic and feminine and sweetly appealing. I have a feeling I’m not the only one who appreciates her unique designs, because the audience is as enthusiastic as I am.
After the show, I wish I had more time to talk to Rhiannon, but probably not as much about fashion as philosophy, because her words about God are still ringing in my ears. Anyway, she seems to have her hands full and I need to move on, since I managed to get Eric Raisina, an eco designer from Madagascar, to talk to me before his show.
Alistair and I hurry to where Eric is putting the finishing touches on his models. In the midst of the usual behind-the-scenes chaos, I ask him a few questions while Alistair gets some footage. Then I sit in on his show while Alistair films. It’s another amazing production, with incredible drumming music, fantastic colors, and it’s just plain fun. In my follow-up comments I praise Eric, and his homeland, Madagascar, for producing such a brilliantly creative designer.
We film several others, including BoUik from Jamaica, which turns out to be another high-energy, colorful show. To my surprise it’s after eight o’clock by the time Alistair and I are packing it up and heading for the van. We’re tired, but I think we got some good material.
I check my phone as Alistair drives us back to the hotel and am surprised to see that both Paige and Mom have called me several times. I’ve had my phone on silent mode, and this is the first time I’ve checked it since early this afternoon. I listen to the first message, and it’s Paige sounding frantic because Alistair and I aren’t at the Taylor-Hasana show.
“Uh oh,” I say to Alistair. “Sounds like we’re in trouble.”
“What’s up?”
I listen to the next message, which is nearly identical to the first one. The other messages are also pretty much the same. When I tell Alistair that we missed the Taylor-Hasana show, he lets out a low whistle.
“That was a big show, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. But they should’ve been able to handle it.”
“It sure doesn’t sound like it.”
“Well, you’ve got to expect some bumps when you go from one director to another. Someone obviously dropped the ball.”
“That’s right,” I agree. “And there are worse things than missing one fashion show, even if it was a big one.”
Still, I’m a little worried as Alistair navigates the traffic to our hotel. I’m wondering if having my mom working as director might not be a bit of a challenge after all. Maybe Fran is feeling better. Of course, I know that if Fran is feeling better, she will be irked at me for missing the Taylor-Hasana show too, even though I didn’t have it on my schedule. For some reason this
designer from Granada is supposed to be really hot.
“That Eric Raisina show was really something, wasn’t it?” Alistair says to me. He probably senses that I’m fretting over missing the other show.
“It was amazing,” I admit. “But my favorite show of the day was still Rhiannon’s. Of course, I’m probably biased toward her anyway. Still, I think that girl has a bright future, don’t you?”
We make more fashion small talk, but the closer we get to the hotel, the more nervous I get. I have a feeling I’ll not only have Mom and Paige on my case, but Fran as well. After Alistair drops me off and I’m pushing the elevator button to go up, I decide I don’t really care. Let them fire me. It’s not like I ever wanted to be part of this crazy ride in the first place. Fashion is so not my thing. And yet I was actually enjoying it today. It figures that as soon as I’m having a good time, I make everyone else mad.
As I ride up in the elevator, which is crowded with a bunch of ravenous models who are making dinner plans and barely even notice me, I recall Rhiannon’s words about keeping her eyes on God. I realize that’s some advice I need to put to use. So as the elevator stops on floor after floor, dropping off the hungry models, I lean against the back wall, close my eyes, and pray. First, being basically selfish, I ask God to sustain me through all this chaos and to let my light shine for him in an arena that seems fairly dark. Next, I ask for God to help Fran to get healthy and well. Then I ask God to help me be a better influence on my sister and mom—not that they seem to be paying much attention to me of late. Finally, I thank God for his promise to me—that no matter what, he will always be with me. I need that a lot just now.
When I get into my room I’m surprised to see that my mother has made herself at home and is already sound asleep in the king-sized bed. While I have no problem sharing accommodations with my mom, and I’m sure she’s exhausted after her red-eye flight last night, I wonder why she doesn’t room with Paige, since she’s the one with the full suite. However, I think I know the answer to that question.
Seeing the light still on in Fran’s room, I go over and discover that she’s sitting up in bed with her computer in her lap. “How are you doing?” I ask, quietly shutting the door behind me.
Glamour Page 12
