by Carla Hanna
“That hurt, physically. I was too blindsided. I can’t handle being played with like that.”
“Sorry. I do know that. But I didn’t want to take the risk of you not loving me.”
“Thanks for taking the risk. I didn’t have the courage to tell you. Thank God you did.”
~ NO MORE ~
“Dad! Celia!” I jumped up from cuddling with Manuel while we watched TV in the living room, waiting for them. Manuel was careful which channel he chose so I didn’t hear anything about me or see my image. I gave them both huge hugs.
“I’d like you to meet my new boyfriend,” I chuckled.
“Hi,” Manuel said as he blushed. “Prom was a lot of fun.”
“I’m glad you had fun. Now, you be good to my girl.” Dad warned.
“¡Claro! I love her,” Manuel shrugged.
“Turn on the game, would ya?” Dad asked.
I took Celia’s hand and walked into the kitchen, smiling. She was so beautiful. Celia was my height, probably fifty pounds heavier than me, and curvy. She’s African American, with cocoa skin and onyx eyes. She’s warm, smart, honest and patient. She’s selfless and generous. I could see why Dad adored her. I adored her. I could talk with her about anything and knew that she would never betray my trust or anyone else’s. I was sure everyone she knew confided in her because she had a very mature sensibility, like that of a guru or spiritual leader. Although she was only thirty-five years old, she was wise.
After Dad divorced Mom, a little less than a year after he had moved out, he moved back to Grandma May’s ranch in Montana. He was only there for a few months when he met Celia as a guest at the dude ranch. Her family had her mother’s memorial service there. Celia was a junior professor at the Stanford University Graduate School of Business in Palo Alto, California. We were all drawn to her because she was beautiful, intelligent, and funny. Grandma May laughed so hard at Celia’s humor that her belly shook.
I remember when I met her that week. Mom dropped me off for the month I was to be there that painful summer. Grandma May kicked Dad off of the ranch during Mom’s stay because May was so mad at him for dumping Mom. May loves Mom and will always consider her as a daughter. Mom stayed a little over a week, which overlapped with Celia’s family coming to the ranch. The ranch was completely full, so May just had Mom stay in her room. Celia and Mom instantly hit it off: talked about psychology, their careers, their projects. They went for long walks together and shopped together in Bozeman. They became fast friends. When Mom left, Dad returned to the ranch and met Celia for the first time.
Celia was completely unimpressed with Dad and thought he was a playboy rancher. No one told her that he was Mom’s ex. No one thought about explaining that I was their daughter. None of us gave it any thought, especially since Celia dissed Dad repetitively, which, of course, we all thought was hilarious. Celia had to return to California a day before the rest of her family was scheduled to depart so Dad drove her to the Bozeman airport, about an hour away from the ranch. Her flight was canceled before they arrived in Bozeman so he drove her to Missoula, which was an additional three-hour drive.
Dad was a changed man when he returned that evening. We all saw that she had humbled him somehow. He wouldn’t talk about it with any of us but he knew he wanted to be with her, so he pursued her and then found a job as a large animal veterinarian in Woodside, California. He was thrilled that he was primarily caring for horses. It was his ideal job, and he knew Celia was his perfect mate.
Somehow, Celia and Mom were able to keep their friendship. Celia was innocent of wronging Mom in any way by dating her ex. She knew I was Mom’s daughter but assumed that we were guests who frequented every summer since our last name is “Michael.” Dad’s last name is “Durglo,” and May’s last name is “Johnston.” Celia knew me as “Marie.” Tom talked about his daughter, “Lia.” She didn’t know I was one and the same. The day she learned that Dad was Mom’s ex, she called Mom and talked it through with her and somehow helped heal their wounds. She is remarkable.
Getting right to the point, Celia asked, “So do you want to renegotiate your existing contracts on your own terms and see where that leads you or do you just want to be done?”
“I want to be done. I’ve gone through it over and over in my head and even if I abandon the studio and my agent, I still have my existing Muse contract with Ira’s studio. I’m still obligated to promote Constantine’s Muse this fall, work from August to January on Muse III, possibly re-shoot scenes in the spring, and tour for the fall or holiday release. I’ll also have to do promotional events for the next three years. The money is so good that I try not to think about it. I get nervous when I do… feel like a fool. So, yeah, I do not want to renew any contracts that are up when I turn eighteen. I want to keep Sage, though.”
Celia agreed. “I know you’re upset and worried, thinking you’re letting people down. But honestly, Lia, when this is over you will be left whole. We are here for you and love you. You will have a great life, and, frankly, after your next Muse project, I estimate that you’ll have a net worth of around $45 million. More if the sequel does as well as Muse is doing. You’re already set for life, so the money is just more money from here on out. I’m proud of you for not being greedy and for wanting what is best for you.”
“I’m afraid of telling Mom. She’s not due back for over a month. I’d rather just tell everyone what I want now so we don’t have to deal with the lawyers who are already thinking about how they want to spend their cut of the deal.” I gestured to the pile of FedEx and UPS envelopes on the kitchen counter.
“Michelle will not take this well,” Celia agreed. “She worked hard to develop the relationships. Her career is also dependent upon the same relationships. She needs to know before the meeting tomorrow. I’ll think about what to do and get back to you with suggestions. Is it alright if I email you?”
“Not really. Sage filters my email. I worry about the security of texts. Can you call?”
She nodded.
“Thanks Celia,” I said, hugging her.
“Now, you go back to your boyfriend,” she said with a smile. “We brought two pretzel croissants just in case we found Manny here. I’m very happy you have decided to take him into your heart. Even if it isn’t forever, love is worth the risk. Manny loves you dearly. He was out the door of his apartment while Carlos was still talking to Tom about Matthew. He called me after your ordeal with Byron because he cares for you so much. We are both very impressed that he is so sensitive and patient at just eighteen years old. But you both still are teenagers. Call me anytime if you feel confused. Your celebrity is going to be really tough on him. Best friend to boyfriend can be a tricky transition as it is.”
She made sure I looked into her eyes. “Are you healing, hon?”
I closed my eyes while I decided how I should answer. She put her hand on mine and whispered, “That’s a ‘no.’ Come here, hon.” She embraced me. “It takes so much time, baby steps.” She peered at me again. “Be sure to talk openly. Share your feelings and take your time.” She smiled at me and patted my shoulder. She headed out of the kitchen with a bag of bakery goodies on top of the pile of documents in her arms. I felt jealous that she could eat anything she wanted.
“I will be downstairs reading these contracts. Please don’t let Tom bother me. He gets so insecure when he is here in Santa Monica. It tears him up.” She shook her head with understanding eyes. “Since I’m not a lawyer, I’ll need to concentrate on what the mumbo jumbo means. I’ll make notes to ask Martin and your other lawyers. We meet with them tomorrow afternoon. Then I’ve got to get back. Tom can stay until Tuesday.”
I returned to the living room. Dad and Manuel watched basketball. My cell rang. It was Mom.
“Hi Mom!”
“Darling, how was prom?” she asked.
“Fabulous. I’m sitting with my boyfriend right now as a matter of fact.”
Manuel interrupted, “Hi Michelle. Prom was awesome, so much fun.
Thanks for the car.”
I continued, “I’m so glad I went. Thanks for encouraging me to go, Mom. You were right about not wanting to miss it.”
The guys cheered because someone got fouled. Then they discussed the game.
“I’m so glad, Marie. Who’s there with you? Sounds just like Tom,” she asked, surprised.
“It is,” I said and then realized I didn’t know what to say. She was a very intelligent woman. I looked at Dad, panicked. Watching my face intently, he reached out for the phone.
“Hi Michelle,” he chirped.
Oops. We were done for. I studied Mom. She read people and noticed the small gestures or intonations that set individuals apart. She saw changes in expressions that most people didn’t notice. She heard emotions. Dad raised his intonation when he said ‘hi.’ She noticed his nervousness. I stopped short. She noticed that, too.
I held my hand out to take the phone because there was no need to hide the truth. Dad finished his small talk with her and handed me the phone with a hesitant look. I nodded, and he braced himself.
“Mom, I’ve decided that, except for Sage, I’m not renewing any of the contracts that have to be renegotiated when I turn eighteen. I’ve thought about it since Christmas, and I know that I don’t want to be an actor for another five years, except for being Muse. I’ve asked Dad and Celia to come down to help me meet with Martin and the other lawyers tomorrow. I would have asked you, but I know you’re on location. I’m sorry, Mom. I know this will be disappointing for you, and I really appreciate the career you’ve made for me, but I’m sure it’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life.”
That monologue took every ounce of strength and courage I had. My knees gave out on me and I lumped down on the floor, still holding the phone to my ear. My head pounded even though I had some pain killers at lunch. I shook. I noticed that Manuel’s head shot up when I was talking. I had not told him.
She didn’t hesitate to scold me, “No, you’re not going to throw your life away. You’re talented—one in a million. Do you think just anyone gets the chances you’ve had? You do not walk away from opportunities like these. Your career has been a gift. You’re acting like a spoiled little girl. Just grow up already! I will not let you quit. Is this about Matthew or you almost sleeping with Byron?”
“What? You know about that?”
“Of course I know. But what I don’t know is why you didn’t tell me.”
“I don’t want you to punish Byron. It was a misunderstanding.”
“Some misunderstanding if you’re ready to throw away your career because you’re confused about how two men have tried to take advantage of you. I’m so sorry they behaved so badly but that is their unprofessionalism. It’s not your fault.”
“That’s not why I want to quit, Mom. I just don’t want this life. I want to be normal…”
She interrupted me, “Nonsense, Marie. You’ll never be normal because you’re not normal. You’re exceptional. Get Tom on the phone.”
I handed the phone to Manuel and pointed to Dad. I felt sick to my stomach. But I didn’t feel sad. I knew what I wanted in my life. Manuel sat down on the floor next to me and held me. I just held him in silence while Dad argued with Mom. I had been so worried about telling Mom that now that I did it I felt relief. My body continued to tremble but I could deal with her disappointment.
~ TECHNICALITIES ~
School was tough on the first Monday after prom. Alan was angry with me that we didn’t go to his after prom party, kept interrogating us about if we bailed on the party to make love, and at the end of lunch gave Manuel photos he printed off from the internet of the Constantine’s Muse wrap party. By the time I saw Manuel in Mandarin Chinese class, he was tense. He still hugged me when he saw me before class, but then he became stern.
“Marie, we need to talk.” He tossed the pictures on the desk in front of me. One picture showed me riding on the back of Byron’s motorcycle. Another showed me kissing his cheek. Another showed Byron and me laughing together with Byron holding my hands. Another photo showed me kissing a crew member on the lips. “What the hell were you thinking? Did you forgive the bastard? Tell me you didn’t. Who’s the new guy you’re kissing?”
I hid my guilt behind exasperation. “Manuel, you have to get thick-skinned. This is what I do. I kiss a lot of people on the cheek or lips. It’s the Hollywood hello. The pictures are taken out of context. That’s what the tabloids do. It’s their job. We’ve talked about this so many times! Manuel, I love you. Please don’t react to this smut.”
“I thought you weren’t talking to him.”
“I wasn’t. He apologized on Friday before the wrap party. We talked it through. We’re friends.”
Manuel guffawed, “For now, you just opened the door for more surprise kisses, ya know. You can’t be friends with that guy! Marie, there is no gray area with him. None!”
Guilty and annoyed, I frowned at him as the teacher came into class. Manuel apologized immediately but I knew this relationship was going to be really tough on his half-Latino ego.
I tried to ignore Manuel’s sensitivity to the photos for the rest of the day and focused on my meeting with the lawyers. Celia and I arrived in downtown Los Angeles when I finally decided to let go of my worries that Manuel would not be able to deal with the paparazzi. We parked in the garage and headed up the elevator.
“Michelle actually did a very good job negotiating your original contracts,” Celia explained. “I’m not an attorney, but it looks like you’ll be a free girl soon. You still have six more months on your cosmetic endorsement contract, you have one more ad campaign and several interviews thereafter. Your Muse contract wasn’t in the pile. Do I have your permission to request a copy from Martin?”
“Yeah, of course.”
She continued, “Are you absolutely certain this is what you want? I’m not sure if your actions today will burn bridges. I know in my field, I’d be nuked.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Nuke them, I thought to myself.
We exited the elevator into Martin’s office. There sitting in the lobby was Mom.
“Mom,” I gasped. “Thank you for coming. How did you…?”
“I told them I had a family emergency and will fly back tonight. I need to speak with you, Marie.”
“They’re gonna think I tried to kill myself!” I blurted. “What did you tell them, Mom?”
“I don’t need to give explanations. Remember, dear, you’re never required to explain. You must guard your privacy.”
Mom didn’t miss work. She was the consummate professional. She never took a sick day or was late for work. She even worked on the set of A Single Rose up to the day I was born.
She was nine months pregnant, filming the final confrontation scene in which the cruel U.S. Cavalry colonel seeks forgiveness from Rose for killing her Arapaho Indian husband. In the scene, Rose sits at the kitchen table in her one-bedroom cabin, obviously pregnant with her Caucasian-Native American baby. The town mayor, honorable sheriff, and despicable colonel sit at the table with her. Midwives are fussing in the kitchen behind them. Rose diplomatically accepts the colonel’s apology and stands up to pour him some coffee. Rose’s water breaks, fluid pools on the floor, and the midwives rush Rose to the bedroom. While hearing the labor pains from the closed door of the bedroom, the mayor and sheriff threaten the colonel and vow that they will not tolerate any harm coming to Rose or to her child and that the U.S. Cavalry has made a monstrous error in killing innocent American Indians and are criminal in their relocation of the Indians onto reservations.
The scene was a powerful ending to a wonderful film saga and a great transition into the TV series. The astonishing part of the scene to me was that Mom’s water did break when she got up from the table and the amniotic fluid really pooled on the floor. She did walk to the other “room” of the set. When the bedroom door closed, she and Dad left for the Beverly Hills Hospital where I was born.
I glanced at Mom, afraid that she wou
ld not forgive me for quitting a promising acting career that she so painstakingly set up for me. Although I had an Oscar for Best Actress, there was no way I could fool her for a moment. Mom led me to Martin’s office and closed the door.
“I know your knees will buckle, so sit with me on the floor here.” We both dropped to the ground. She sat crossed-legged across from me and held my hands, resting the weight of our hands on our calves in front of us.
“Please don’t walk away from your career, your future. I’ve left you alone too much while I’ve been working. You need more support. I can give you that support. I’ll take on fewer projects. I’ll do more projects with you or within the same area. Perhaps my sister can visit more often, maybe once a week.” She waited for me to fill in the silence with my babbling. I was not going to babble or show weakness. I did not feel weak.
She continued, “Perhaps you need more breaks. You’ve been going non-stop since you’ve been thirteen. You’re probably suffering from exhaustion. Two men took advantage of you. One tried to rape you. One pressured you. Social media skewered you. You and Evan had to live a lie. That’s a ton to deal with. I’ll be done filming in May, and we can both go to Montana together. You can bring Manny if you’d like. I know he makes you happy. Just please continue acting. You’re so talented.”
She wept. I could tell from the puffiness of her eyes that she had cried all night. She wasn’t wearing any makeup—she never did off set—but she appeared strained. I sensed another feeling from looking into her wet eyes and strained face. She seemed guilty, very guilty. I figured that she thought me being alone so much caused me to abandon my career.
“Mom, this isn’t your fault. I’m not lonely,” I lied. “I rarely have time to even think. When I’m not working, I’m studying. I love to study. But I don’t love to work. I hate acting, Mom.” I eyed her but could tell she was not convinced. She thought I was emotionally traumatized and exhausted from working so much.
Mom disagreed. “Darling, it’s very important you tell the truth right now. Tell me honestly what you’re thinking. You love to work. You hate promotions and being the center of attention. You hate being so isolated. You hate that your fans turned on you. You hate that you have no one to trust. You worry that your love with Manuel won’t last because you think everyone gets divorced. You worry about being alone and want to go hide somewhere with Manny where he can never leave you.”
