by Ames, Alex
“No, honestly.”
“I couldn’t say no to Louise Waters.”
“You don’t like me and you are not lonely?”
“Louise, I don’t know you. You are a person I have seen a million times on TV and in films. This is completely strange to sit beside a woman that probably every straight male on this planet knows and finds sexy.”
“Tell me about it. But that is the issue. I am lonely. The whole industry, my public self, what you see in the media and in my work—that is the professional me. But when I get home and close the door behind me, I am alone. Never really out of sight of the others, namely Floris or the maid or the gardener. But I have no partner with me.”
“And that worries you? The diva alone in her palace, steps echoing in the big hall . . .”
“I admit, I like solitude; it’s part of my nature. I’ve had to rely on myself since I was sixteen. And most of the time I don’t feel lonely. I’m perfectly content reading a book for pleasure. I go to the movies on my own, in disguise, discovering strange works from Korean, French, or German directors.”
“That wouldn’t work for me. I love having my kids around me, I love hanging out with Hal and the rest of the team. Even with Styler, who is so far outside of my social circle. When the three younger ones are in bed and I watch late-night TV, I am always glad when Agnes comes into the living room for a final chat.” As an afterthought Rick added, “And I would feel silly alone in a movie theater or in a restaurant.”
They nursed their sodas for a few minutes and listened to the surf crashing softly onto the sand. Car sounds drifted over from the Pacific Coast Highway, and there was music somewhere in the distance.
“So, Louise Waters, what is your problem?” Rick asked.
“If I could tell you! I am tired of it all.”
“Burn out or midlife crisis?”
“Along those lines, maybe. But it is more around achievements, sharing, basic accomplishments, joint memories. Like having a permanent partner. Kids that you see growing up. Growing old together.”
“So you think I offer all of the above in an instant?” Rick smiled. “Remember I am in the middle of this, kids and growing old . . .”
“Would you consider having more kids?”
“Whoa, kids? Louise Waters, this is our first date!”
“You are a widower, relatively young. You should have an opinion about this, whether you would consider starting over.”
“Unless my new significant other comes loaded with money, the answer would be no, no more kids.”
“Why?”
“You said ‘starting over,’ Louise. With kids, there is no starting over. You gain experience as you raise them. Teaching swimming took a lot of patience with Agnes and was a breeze with Charles. And Dana is almost there, a few more weeks and she will be a little dolphin. But that’s it. There is no starting over. They all know how to swim, then you will never teach this to your kids again. And those are the easy things. But then come the tough things. Like giving the best possible future possible. Getting them into a great college that fits them and their dreams. If I am very, very lucky, I will be able to provide this to all four, and if we are blessed, they will actually do all these things we dream for them, and not lose their way.”
“That’s some legacy,” Louise said quietly.
“It is. And there is not a second when I do not think about providing for my four kids. Having one or two more kids with a new partner, how would I be able to do this?”
“You are aware that I come loaded?” Louise nudged him.
Rick laughed. “That is a bonus. Still, I would need to do some heavy thinking about it.”
The night grew later and colder, but both simply sat, enjoying each other’s nearness, without admitting it, and inwardly praying for the evening never to end. It had to be Louise who took the next step.
“Can we hold hands?” Louise asked. Rick looked at Louise on his right side, sighed, and shifted the soda can into his left hand.
“You are a tough sell, Richard Flint,” Louise said, and her fingers intertwined with his.
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me, yet.”
“I can think of more, but I need to leave room for a second date.”
“Can’t wait for it.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“Let’s not get ahead of us here,” Rick said.
“You are a tough sell,” Louise lamented.
And the half-moon slowly rose.
eleven
Fool’s Days
Louise
The 5:30 alarm killed Louise’s sleep and brought her away from the dream of a beach, sitting beside Rick, talking about life and things, laughing, touching shoulders, holding hands. She couldn’t remember what had been the dream and what had been a memory of the previous evening. Yesterday evening had been probably the most enjoyable evening you had since a long time, Lou-baby. It felt right. Hell, it still feels right.
She gave her body a stretch and got out of bed. Body inspection after shedding the T-shirt.
Lou-baby, your body will be a problem. I can feel it. Too perfect. When Rick sees this, he will be under pressure to perform. And that could be . . . difficult for a man like him.
She turned and investigated her behind, all good.
Downstairs, Emile waited for her with the stack of duties. “You look fa-bu-lous, Lou. The girl at her peak!”
“You telling me it’s downhill from here?” Louise said and started her mini-breakfast.
“The schedule for the remaining week: We have a mix of promo work and some business meetings. I gave you off on Thursday; there wasn’t too much on the agenda in the first place. Friday and Saturday, we’ll fly over to Austin for South by Southwest. Sunday’s free with possibility of a party in the evening.”
“That’s good, please keep the two days free.”
“Noted, honey. And here are the talking point notes for today’s interview partners.” Emile pushed mercilessly through his agenda. At 6:00 a.m., Simona came for the daily torture. Some things did not change.
Rick
Rick woke up totally shell-shocked from the previous evening on the beach with Louise Waters. He had been sexually aroused for the better part of the night, replaying Louise’s nearness and the conversations they had had. He was tight-lipped with his kids when they bombarded him with questions the next morning at breakfast and only answered with few facts. Thankfully, Agnes had sensed his unease and led her siblings’ barrage away to other topics.
Hal saw Rick entering the workshop’s office, saw the look on the face of his best friend, and raised his hands in defense. “Don’t blame me, she made me do it!”
Rick sat down at his desk and switched on his computer, sorted the papers on his desk. “You meant well.”
“Did she call?”
“We already had a first date last night.”
Hal raised his right hand for a high-five with his best buddy, but Rick didn’t play along. Hal let his hand sink. “Man, it had to be a disaster of a Debbie grade?”
Rick leaned back. “No, it actually went pretty well.”
“Your lack of enthusiasm is worrisome. Come on, first word that pops into your mind. Sexy? Fantastic? Funny?” Hal proposed.
Rick took a minute to think. “Scary.”
“That is the most improbable answer I expected to hear about dating Louise Waters.”
“No, that is the only way to describe it. She was totally . . . normal, and we had a great evening. Not what you think, more like from a Woody Allen movie.”
“From before he went nuts and married his daughter?”
“Yeah, like in Annie Hall or Manhattan. A lot of meaningful talk, partially funny, partially serious.”
“I hope you don’t take it the wrong way if I tell you that you look much better than Woody Allen.”
“And she looks better than Mariel Hemingway and all those other actresses combined.”
“A little bit like Me
ryl Streep, though.” Hal pointed out. “But why scary?”
“I am a normal guy, sitting on the beach with a woman who is so much larger than life. That is scary for a guy like me. No romance. I couldn’t even think about having sex with her and did not dare to give her a kiss. She had to pry a can of Coke from my hand just to hold it.”
“Richard, my friend, let me write this down for my best man speech for you guys. Will you go out again?”
Rick patted his monitor. “My computer is ready for me, and my boat design skills are needed to save our asses. Can I go and earn some money now?”
Hal came over and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Admit it, you are too scared to even call her.”
“Scared spitless,” Rick admitted.
“As long as you don’t change your phone number . . .”
Louise
On Tuesday evening, between dress changes, running from a Getty Museum gala to an after-show party in the hills, Louise sat in her limousine and dialed Rick’s number. She was aware that she probably had been a little too much for the handsome boatbuilder, though she had held back considerably. She had a million ideas what she could do to impress Rick, but most of them were simply not feasible. If you had four kids and a maid-less household to manage, a spontaneous trip to Acapulco for a day was not in the stars. But she had a boat and planned to invite the whole family to a little day trip to Catalina.
The phone rang twice, a girl’s voice answered. Louise identified herself.
“Hi, it’s Agnes. We were expecting your call.”
“We as in . . . ?”
“The United Kids of Flint. About Dad, I am not so sure.”
“Uh-oh, anything I need to do to make him feel better?”
“I am torn between loyalty to my father and the outlook of having a super-rich stepmom,” Agnes said.
“So, let’s make it a win-win for everyone. Is he in?”
“It’s Tuesday around ten! No other place to be for a family guy. I’ll pass you along.”
A moment of rustling and a hiss, then Rick came on the line. “Hi.”
“Hi yourself,” Louise said.
There was a moment of silence between them, as both were looking for an appropriate thing to say. In the background, Louise could hear Britta calling, “Dad, that is the most awkward silence since the invention of the fart cushion!”
“Give me a moment here, guys, and some privacy,” Rick shouted. And then to Louise, “Kids, an acute sense of truth and wisdom.”
“Have we already run out of things to talk about?” Louise asked.
“Not on your life. But . . . well, to be honest, I was too shy to call you and ask for a second date,” Rick admitted.
“No problem. I understand the situation we are in. And in full disclosure, I had made a list of things to impress my new date, you, in the future, to win you over. And then discovered that it is not doable. You are the first person I have met that has this focus on family and no backup like ex-wife, au pair, or nanny.”
“What was on that list? Give me an idea of what I’ll miss?”
“Musical trip to New York later this month? Horse riding on my best friend’s ranch in Arizona? Or join me on my Austin trip this weekend.”
“The kids would love to do this, I am sure.”
Louise sighed. “See, that’s what I mean: focus on the family.”
“Why . . . ?” Rick was confused. “Ah, I see, you mean us two on a getaway, without kids. My heart is racing to think about these things; you might give me a heart attack by planning.”
“After the win-you-over part, we can see to how much luxury and lifestyle-of-the-rich-and-famous you want to expose your kids to. But first I need to win you over. Right?”
“I hate to say it, but yes,” Rick admitted.
Rick
“What is your Plan B, now that the family stands in the way?” Rick asked.
Agnes yelled from the background, “We are not standing in your way. Say yes to anything she proposes!”
Rick whispered back, shielding the microphone, “Trip to Austin next weekend.”
“Sweet! South by Southwest,” Britta beamed. “The kids would like that!” Agnes said loudly, and there were consenting noises from the others.
Louise laughed out loud. “I heard that.”
Rick sighed. “Ignore them. Find something local. What about we go out sailing on the Flints’ very own yacht? I’ll rig it up, and you bring the picnic basket.”
“You have a boat? And I thought I could impress you with mine.”
“I am a boatbuilder, so of course I have a boat! Twenty feet, made of wood, of course.”
“I can only do Thursday or Sunday.”
“We need to sail during daylight, so I’ll cut Thursday’s work time short. Can you be at the shipyard around 2:00 p.m.?”
“Deal. It’s a second date!”
Louise
The second date became the perfect date. The weather was sunny and a bit chilly. A light wind made sailing easy and didn’t stress the crew, made up of Louise and Rick. Louise had her wig and sunshades for the part that took place in the harbor but otherwise had dressed practically for the occasion, with wider slacks, a warm sweater, and a windbreaker. After they left Oxnard Yacht Harbor with the help of a little motor, they expertly set sail and were off.
“What’s the name of the boat?” Louise asked while she took off her wig and began reapplying sunscreen.
“Harrison.”
“Harrison Ford?”
“No, after our first and only dog. A retriever. We bought him after Agnes was born, and he died of old age when Agnes was about twelve. By that time I had finished building the boat. Agnes baptized it and had a say in the naming.”
“It’s roomy—the deck is quite wide. Room to sit, room to sunbathe. I like the small platform thingy in the back that makes it easy to climb in and out of the water.”
“Well, I had intended to build a racing boat, but Bella convinced me to make it a family boat instead. Room for five people in the cockpit and five beds below for overnights were the core design requirements.”
“Hang on! Four kids and two grown-ups makes five? What kind of builder are you?”
“Good with math but bad in precaution. Dana was an unplanned latecomer.”
“So I am now the sixth wheel that breaks the capacity again?”
“Should it ever come to that, we can cuddle up. Dana doesn’t need much room.”
“I was afraid that you had named your boat after your wife. I would have felt awkward sailing on her, being on a date with you. The Jaipur syndrome.”
“Don’t touch the paint—the name sign is still wet. No, seriously, it was briefly under discussion, but it was the goldfish that was christened Bella.”
“How long did that one live? A year, two?”
“Forever,” Rick said with conviction.
“No goldfish lives forever.”
“This one does. As I am first one up in the morning, I can immediately spot an overnight demise, run over to the neighbor, and borrow a new one. We are a well-oiled team by now, and he always has spares. I think Dana and Charles still believe in the eternal goldfish named Bella, Britta does not seem to care, and Agnes knows, of course.”
“Now, that is a fantastic story that only happens in real families!”
“Take care of your sail, foreman!” Rick said, pointing at the flapping foresail. Louise pulled it closer.
“It includes so many typical family things,” she continued. “Taking good care of memories, making sure no one needs to cry over a dead goldfish, a little mythical immortality of the deceased mother sprinkled in.”
“Make a movie out of it?”
“No. Yes. Maybe. It’s more like one of those tidbits that make a movie adorable, authentic.”
“Are you making movies?”
“Proud majority shareholder of Waterstone Films. I’ve been coproducing films for a while now, and it’s fun to bring a project to life. But
I’ve never been part of the creative process. I’ve never written a script in my life.”
“That’s what I like about my job. It is the complete project from A to Z. I doodle on a napkin, and a year later the boat is in the water. Well, mostly.”
“The Harrison took you one year to build?”
“No, this was a private side project, which I intentionally did all by myself. A little over three years. The kids were small then, and the project was my excuse to have time on my own. Sometimes Agnes would come along and ride the bicycle in the yard.”
After an hour of sailing, they took down the sails and had a leisurely late lunch/early dinner on the forward sundeck. Louise had brought along a very authentic-looking picnic basket, and Rick found some blankets in the cabin. The sun was already low on the horizon and not too strong yet in early April. Louise had prepared a mix of sandwiches—“I made them myself—just sent the maid to buy the ingredients, honestly!”—and they continued to talk about their lives.
“I remember reading in some magazine story that you still have parents, right?” Rick asked.
“Yes and no and maybe,” Louise said. “My mother is alive but drank her brain away: long-term alcohol abuse. She’s in a retirement home, one thing my money can buy, and doesn’t really recognize anyone anymore, even the staff. The mother in her is long dead, and I don’t visit anymore. I never knew my biological father and my stepfather walked away shortly before I left home, too. He was an okay guy but couldn’t take my mother’s drinking. I have one sister; she’s living in a trailer park, heavy issues with alcohol and substance abuse. I only help her with an occasional therapy but never directly with money. That’s why I am teatotaller; the whole alcohol thing makes me nervous.”
“You sound so detached,” Rick said.
She shrugged. “Time heals a lot, and I’ve made peace with my ghosts over the years. What about your parents?”
“Alive but no longer kicking. My father is slowly drifting away with Alzheimer’s, and my mother has all these age-related things; she’s become very slow. They live in Florida. We call and visit now and then. Bella has a sister somewhere in the Chicago area, but we’ve met exactly twice: once for the marriage and once for the funeral. No parents anymore on her side. So we are not a big family—yet. By the time I turn sixty-four, I expect an explosion of grandkids.”
