“That’s why. His boss said they couldn’t risk any scandals. Anyway,” she sighed, “I’ve done better since the breakdown. Haven’t I? No, I know I have.”
Which was true. No “crimes,” or none that he knew of, in any of the years since. She’d accepted his decision to remain in Key West even after her release from inpatient treatment; she’d supported his career choices; she’d ranted a lot less about his father … and she’d made a life for herself, with her support groups and her work. He still worried about her—it was ingrained—but he didn’t fear for her, and that was a small grace they could both appreciate.
“You have done better,” he said. “So. Do you want to know the rest, about Dad and the TV thing?”
“Yes, yes, tell me. Is Harmony Productions going to produce his show?”
She looked so sincerely eager that he wanted to ask, Are you on new medication? He held his tongue and told her it was possible.
“I suppose they’d pay him a lot of money,” she said.
“I suppose they would.”
“Good.”
New medication, or his real mother had been abducted by aliens and this look-alike was her replacement.
She was nodding as she said, “I always wanted to meet her. Blue, I mean.”
“Maybe you can.” He told her they’d made the pilot, and that he had another day of editing ahead of him before his father arrived Friday evening to review the finished film. “Come by the studio and I’ll introduce you.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t—not now, when I know what my actions did to her. God, she must have been heartbroken when he ended it—don’t you think? I can’t meet her now, I’d be mortified! What she must think of me …” She looked like she might cry. Then she brightened a little, saying, “Did you know she’s donated something like twelve million dollars to Illinois mental health programs?”
“No, I guess I didn’t.” He tipped his chair back onto two legs as he fit this new information about Blue into the puzzle she still was to him. A sought-after celebrity; a business mogul; a focused, professional television personality; the girl whose life had been upended by his mother; a generous philanthropist… She was many things.
Yet in his mind she was primarily the quiet, barefooted woman who loved Key West so much that she’d bought a house there purely on impulse. On instinct. If a man wasn’t careful, he could fall for a woman like that.
She was much more than that, though. Too much more, when he included possible prospect for his father. How possible? Hard to tell. The wind did seem to be blowing that way, though.
His mother sensed it too: “Wouldn’t it be great if now your dad could put things right with Blue?”
“No.” He sat up, banging the chair’s front legs on the tile floor.
“No? Why not?”
“I—well, that is …”
She gave him a penetrating look. “Don’t you think he’s entitled to some happiness?”
He avoided her eyes. “Of course I do.”
“You’re jealous,” she said, and when he glanced at her again, her eyebrows were raised.
“I’m not. I’m—I’m concerned.”
“I don’t think so. Look in the mirror, Julian Forrester. I know that expression, God knows I saw it on my own face enough times. You want his attention all for yourself, is that it? Or wait—is it hers that—”
“It’s fine,” he said, standing up and returning to the sink. “If that’s what they want, then it’s fine.” He grabbed the sponge and started scrubbing a bowl that didn’t need to be scrubbed. “It’s good. It’s all good.”
But it wasn’t all good. It was in fact no good. Waiting for the train back into the city, he pointed his camera at his fellow travelers’ feet and photographed loafers, sneakers, pointy-toed high heels, and allowed himself to think it through. He did want his father’s attention, up to a point. The real trouble was, he also wanted Blue’s, wanted it viscerally. His want was a hunger.
Well, he’d gone hungry before. “Deal with it,” he muttered as the train pulled in.
20
t took most of the week following the Key West trip for the crew to get over their sunburns and hangovers and for TBRS to return to its clockwork flow. Blue was glad when Friday afternoon finally arrived so that she could begin to unwind. There had not been a single day this week when they weren’t running right up to the edge with some issue or another. The worst had been on Tuesday, when a severe thunderstorm knocked out their power and their generator system failed to start up immediately. The joie de vivre from Key West fell apart quickly when so many dollars were at stake.
Second worst was Julian’s presence—or that was Blue’s unspoken opinion. Everyone (herself included) found him more engaging and interesting than even the most comely of the interns they got each season. Even amidst the chaos she was acutely aware of him being there, down the hall from the main studio, editing the Lions pilot exactly as she’d offered. The offer had been meant to help Mitch, to give her more opportunities to think about him.
Julian was a distraction. Unwelcome. Unsettling.
Today, same as every day this week, she’d left for the gym at the earliest possible moment. When she got there, Jeremy had her weigh in.
He frowned when he saw she was still two pounds heavier than she was supposed to be. “How much water did you drink today?”
“I have no idea. Not enough, I’m sure.”
“All right then, I want you to do eight ounces right now, and I’m adding fifteen minutes of cardio.”
“No time for extra cardio,” she said, taking a bottle of water from the cooler. She went to the elliptical machine, where she always began. “I have a six-thirty appointment.”
“It’s two pounds, Blue. I can see them clear as day on your hips and belly.”
So could she; she just couldn’t bring herself to care about them as much as he did. The extra couple of pounds made her hip bones seem … friendlier. While Jeremy programmed the machine, she said, “Let’s just stick to the usual,” and pretended she didn’t notice him shaking his head.
Halfway through her workout, she was ready to quit. Two-thirds of the way through, she did. “That’s it, that’s all you’re getting out of me today,” she said, toweling her face. She ignored his protests as she went to shower, allowing the diva moment to play out only in her head: I don’t pay you to lecture me. There are five hundred people waiting in line for your job. It was satisfaction enough.
As soon as she was dry and dressed, she was returning to the studio to meet up with Mitch and, unfortunately, Julian, for an after-hours welcome tour. She’d brought her favorite broken-in jeans and a lime-green Key West T-shirt, hoping the color would lift her up.
Her mother was always talking about clothing color and its effect; this week, her talk had been tailored to the developing wedding plans. Blue and Melody would have the choice of fuchsia or yellow bridesmaid dresses—one daughter in each color, no fighting. Nancy would not be dissuaded by Blue’s worries that she and Calvin were rushing things. “Remember how on an impulse last week you paid two million dollars for a tiny, dated house?”
“That’s money,” Blue had said. “It’s different.”
“I heard how you described that place. It was love, and so is this. Embrace happiness, don’t resist it. You might not live longer, but you’ll live better.”
Embrace happiness. That’s what she was trying to do, and everything was getting all muddied up.
She arrived in the studio’s lobby as Marcy was on her way out. Marcy stopped and set her shoulder bag on an armchair. “I was just about to call you. Julian says Mitch is stuck at the airport—his airport, that is. His plane’s been sitting on the tarmac for two hours and now they’re going back to the terminal. He may not be able to get here tonight. Meantime, Julian’s in the lab. I said I’d send you in.”
“Why did you do that?”
Marcy frowned at her. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Never mind. Where are
you off to?”
“Dinner and dancing.” She did a twirl with an imaginary partner. “It’s unbelievable, I feel like I’m twenty-five again. If your man gets here tonight, give me a call. You can come join us.”
Blue said, “My man? Let’s not jump the gun, here.”
“Oh, let’s.”
“He’s in a relationship I’m not certain he wants to be out of, and I’m—I just feel so …”
“So …?”
Blue set her bag down and unbuttoned her suede jacket. “I love the idea of reconnecting with him. He looks good, he’s kind, he’s smart. There’s not a single thing about him I dislike … Maybe I’ve forgotten how to be eager about a man.” Whereas she was perfecting the practice of being anxious.
“I doubt you’ve forgotten. You’ll see.”
“It used to be so easy—didn’t it? Remember how it was when we were living in the rental house?”
“And where that got you,” Marcy said.
“Besides that. Guys were always coming by, we were always laughing—”
“We were always stoned.”
“We were having fun. I need to find that groove you were talking about that night in Key West.”
Marcy kissed her on the cheek. “Step One is admitting you have a problem.”
“What’s Step Two?”
“Umm …”
“Believe in a greater power,” Julian said from the hallway behind the reception desk, where he was walking toward them.
“Right,” Blue said. How much had he heard? She began to ad-lib, “So, Marcy, tell Peter to go ahead and, er, book Britney for that week. In November. Fall sweeps, you know.” She smiled at Julian, praying Marcy had caught on.
Marcy said, “Gotcha.” She headed for the door. “Blue, don’t forget you have that museum thing tomorrow. Your dress is already done—did you see it? It should have been delivered yesterday.”
“Which dress is it?” She could barely recall that she had an event the next day, let alone what she was wearing to it.
“The black Balenciaga. With the fringe and the sequins—it’s that sexy above-the-knee look you do so well.”
“Not if what Jeremy says is true.”
“Which is—?”
“That I’m liable to start mooing at any moment.”
“Cut back on the grass,” Marcy said with a wink. “Okay, I’m off.”
They watched Marcy leave, watched the security guard lock the doors behind her.
“Jeremy?” Julian asked.
“My personal trainer.” Why did saying it that way sound so pretentious?
“He’s an idiot. You look healthy and beautiful.”
Though he’d said it plainly, a statement of fact, she felt herself blush. “Thanks. Any further word from your dad?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t look promising, though.”
Which left her here with Julian, who looked as intense as usual and as appealing as ever in blue jeans and a white button-down shirt, un-tucked. Except for security, the lobby was empty around them. She picked up her bag and held it in front of her like a shield. “Think he’ll be happy with the finished pilot?”
“I think so.” He didn’t offer to screen it for her, and she didn’t ask if he would.
“Good.”
“Yeah.” He pushed his hands into his pockets and began to say, “So I guess I’m going to—” just as Blue was saying, “I have some work I’d better—”
“Oh—My phone’s buzzing, hang on.” He took it from his pocket and answered. “Hello?”
She listened, knew it was Mitch when Julian said, “Not at all, huh? What about tomorrow? Well, even if not, it’s a digital file; I can send it to you electronically and we can talk while you watch.” A long pause, then, “Actually, she’s right here. Sure, hold on.” He handed the Black-Berry to her, saying, “He wants to talk to you.”
“Hi,” she said to Mitch. “The luck’s all bad tonight, huh?”
“My plane’s grounded and I can’t find another flight. Strictly speaking, I guess I don’t have to get there at all. But,” she heard him draw a deep breath, “I thought it might be nice to get together,” he said in a rush. “So if you have time tomorrow evening—”
This was a surprise. “I wish I did. I have some benefit gala for one of the museums, Marcy just reminded me.”
“Ah. Well, I own a tux—as you may recall.”
“In fact I do.” She turned away from Julian and began walking toward the reception desk. “I didn’t tell them I’d be bringing a guest, but—”
“I was kidding; I’d never foist myself on you that way.”
“No, I know that… but, if you think you’d like to join me, why don’t we plan on it?” Dinner and dancing. A pretty dress, a tux … The association with that long-ago New Year’s party was irresistible. “Let me call you later with the details, all right? Will you be home?” A coded question for, Will you be with Brenda?
“Call me at home, that’d be great.”
“I will.” She turned around, saying, “I have a few things I need to do while I’m here, so let me give you back to Julian.” She handed off the phone with a quick wave to Julian, and walked away without looking back.
When she got to her office, she closed the door and leaned against it. The wall of windows displayed Chicago’s skyline, lights glowing against the darkening sky. It was a wonderful view, and familiar. There was safety in what was familiar. Comfort, too. Though she may not have spent time with Mitch over the past two decades, he’d existed for her, he’d lived inside that soft space of memory reserved for first loves. The way he’d sounded on the phone suggested she occupied a similar sort of space for him.
She had not been his very first; that was one of his high school girlfriends. The one before Renee, who’d broken his heart and left him vulnerable to Renee’s more insidious affections. Heartbreak. It was a catapult, launching people into ill-advised actions and unfortunate outcomes; didn’t she know that too well?
With the perspective of distance and time, she understood better why Mitch had rejected her—the timing was all wrong. If the past two weeks had shown her anything, it was that the timing was now all right—or nearly. For all her doubts, fate seemed to be persistently lining them up.
Step Two: Believe in a greater power.
She had not been a believer. Maybe it was time to put her faith in that force and let go.
21
itch was out of bed at four thirty am for his rescheduled-for-noon flight. It had taken him forever to get to sleep last night, then when he did finally sleep, it was fitfully and for too few hours.
He’d had no business suggesting he go with Blue to the fund-raiser tonight. The words had jumped out of his mouth like oil from a fry pan—and Brenda was none too happy about the resulting burn. He’d done the right thing, confessing to her when he’d called to say his flight was canceled. “I have to tell you,” he said, “I think maybe something is going on with Blue and me.” He told her about the date he’d made and she said, “How am I supposed to compete with that?”
In his mind, no contest existed. There was Blue, distinct and luminous, and there was Brenda, as lively and engaging a presence in his life as the books he loved. To compare the two women was like comparing Hemingway to Nabokov; he admired them both, differently. He told Brenda this, and she’d said, “Good luck sleeping with either one of them.”
Then there was Julian, whose terseness on the phone last night after hearing Mitch’s plans made it clear he was no fan of Blue’s, and didn’t think Mitch should be, either. He’d said, “This whole situation is out of hand. You shouldn’t have taken her offer to help with Lions, and you shouldn’t be going with her to that party.”
Mitch wasn’t entirely surprised—this was Julian, after all. “Look, J, I appreciate your concern, but I disagree.”
“Suppose for whatever reason no Lions deal works out,” Julian said. “You get resentful, she thinks you used her, she blackballs you—there are
any number of scenarios. I don’t like it.”
Julian’s displeasure was like storm clouds gathered and waiting along the horizon. Mitch was keeping an eye on the horizon. Watching it with his peripheral vision. Glancing at it, from time to time, over his shoulder while running headlong into things like altered filming schedules, options possibilities, and museum benefit galas. You didn’t have to hide from iffy weather, you just had to keep tabs on it.
Today’s flight departed on schedule. Smooth air in a clear sky, the Carolina foothills falling away beneath him. He spent the two-hour trip reading Newsweek and Forbes so that tonight he would be informed and articulate on more than the matter of symbolism in “Hills Like White Elephants.”
By three o’clock central time, he was sitting on Julian’s ancient, dusty sofa watching himself on a thirteen-inch laptop computer monitor. It had gotten damaged when Julian was traveling and no longer displayed any red tones. He looked like Martian Mitch in the jungle; the effect was sobering.
“Don’t worry. It’ll play fine on any functional monitor,” Julian was saying. “The LCD and plasmas will make you look more life-like even than life. Focus on the content. I can always go back and cut or add, or rearrange. I think, though, that it’s pretty solid.”
Mitch agreed. Julian had taken the basic footage of him in the Hemingway Home and woven in Key West images, interview footage, archival audio and video, anything he could find that they could use without having to pay.
“It’s brilliant,” Mitch said when it was over. “Forget still photography—you should focus on this, you’re a genius at it.”
Julian closed the laptop and stood up. “Thanks—I think.” He was barefoot and unshaven and wore a clay-toned T-shirt with a Hebrew phrase on the front. Kol tuv, it read, which he’d said meant Everything Good.
“I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I was trying to say how impressed I am with your work. I can’t think of a thing I want to change.” Except how difficult it still sometimes was to communicate with Julian; he was so literal. “What time is it now?” He squinted at his watch. “Almost four …” Blue’s driver would be there at six. “I need to shower, and I’ve got some spiffing up to do if I want to look like a suitable date for Blue.”
Reunion Page 19
