by Leslie Pike
On the ride back, we’re relaxed and completely spent. And we’re happy, just plain happy. He’s got the same grin on his face as I have on mine.
We listen to Renee Oldstead’s jazzy version of “Skylark,” and it suits the moment perfectly.
Once in his cottage, we get to dinner. He cleans the lettuce while I butter the French bread. We’ve opened another bottle of champagne, and we’re dancing around to his Motown mix. I like this scene. We fit together in every possible way.
“My dad called today. He and Melanie are coming for the weekend.”
“That’s great. Will I meet them?”
“Of course. I’m sure that’s why they’re coming. They want to meet the woman who my father said tamed me.”
“You mean this is tame? That’s hysterical.”
“I’m interested to see what you think of Melanie. I know you’re going to love my dad.”
“What’s up? Don’t you like her?”
“I really like her. She’s been good for him and to him. It’s my dad’s third wife, but they’ve been married for almost thirty years. I was only fifteen when they got together. She took on a lot for just being in her twenties. But she’s opinionated. And she’s a ballsy broad. Not every person connects with her. I think she’s kind of awesome.”
“Where are they staying?”
“They were going to stay at a hotel, but I talked them into staying here. I can sleep on the couch for a couple of nights. Or maybe a friend will let me stay with her.”
He smiles.
“You’re officially invited. Then they can be close.”
“Let’s take them to dinner Friday. Where do you think? Maybe French or Mexican?” he asks.
“I vote French. How about Fifi’s Bistro Cafe?”
“Yeah. That’s good. It’s going to be fun.”
“I want to hear all the stories your dad has to tell about you. All the gory details.”
“Oh God.”
* * *
These two days have flown by, and the night has arrived. I’m dressed for our dinner and waiting for the call that they’re here. I wanted to give Steven and his dad a little time alone. I’m excited about meeting both Melanie and Ben. I made sure there were fresh flowers at their bedside, plenty of towels and new bedding. Not that he wouldn’t have made sure they were comfortable, but men don’t seem to have that guests are coming gene.
I don’t think I’ve ever met a man who looked forward to having house guests like women generally do. Even their own family.
Even the people they love the most. They’re happy to see them, but don’t want to disturb their own space and routine.
And, I think they see us fussing with getting everything spotless and ordered, and they don’t realize that’s part of the fun.
I, on the other hand, love it. I dreamed of being part of a family since I was a child in foster care. I understand that some children have better experiences than I did, but for me I was always the visitor, and most definitely not a real part of any of the three different families I lived with. Sometimes, I was only an unwanted and unwelcome means to an end. Every time, I was a child unloved. The outsider, that’s how I felt.
And I yearned for what I didn’t have. When Finn and his family welcomed me into their circle, it was the greatest joy I’d known. And when we divorced I was so afraid I’d lost all of them. Happily that wasn’t the case.
And now, I hope this visit will be just the beginning of relationships that could last and become … well, I don’t even want to think about that. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Bliss. It all just started.
I’ve been self-sufficient for a long time now. I learned how to carry my happiness within, regardless of what goes on around me. I’ve been very successful at that. I can be alone and be wildly happy. If a person learns to do that, she never has to rely on anyone else for her contentment.
But for the first time in a long time, I’m yearning to hold on to how this man makes me feel. How very happy I am when I’m with him. How I become more of myself, not less. And for everything and everyone his world brings.
My ringing cell snaps me out of my thoughts. It’s him.
“Hello.”
“Hi, babe. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready physically. I’m not so sure emotionally,” I say with a laugh.
“Well, get over here. They’re waiting to meet you. And don’t worry, you’re very lovable.”
“Ok. I’m on my way.”
I disconnect and give myself one last glance in the entry mirror.
The hundred steps to Steven’s cottage gives me time to compose myself and listen to the pep talk that’s going on in my head. This isn’t a job interview. You are a likable and nice person. You’re accomplished and capable of making interesting conversation. You’ve talked to many intimidating and unreasonable people in your career, and you handled each one skillfully. You can handle a father and stepmother who seem to want to meet you.
Shut the hell up, Bliss, and ring the doorbell.
The door swings open, and my gorgeous Steven stands smiling.
“What took you so long?”
“Fear.”
“Get in here.”
I walk in and see his father and Melanie. They have warm and friendly expressions on their faces and it’s funny, but I’m immediately at ease.
Ben stands and crosses to me. Melanie follows.
He’s a handsome older version of Steven. Even at seventy-eight he’s appealing and attention getting. I bet he was a stud. Maybe he still is. I see what Steven will look like in thirty-five years. I’ll take it.
“Hello, Bliss. I’m Ben. I’ve been dying to meet you, honey.” He leans over and kisses my cheek.
“Hi, Ben. I’m so happy to meet you.”
Melanie comes around to the other side. Steven introduces her.
“This is Melanie, his better half.”
She’s a good-looking statuesque blonde who is clearly a good twenty
years younger than her husband. But they make a beautiful couple.
Obviously their age difference wasn’t an issue.
“Bliss, I’m happy to finally meet you. I’ve been outnumbered all these years with these two.”
“Hi. I’ll be glad to be on your team, Melanie.”
“Thanks for taking my boy in for a few nights so we could have our own love nest,” Ben says. He puts his arm around Melanie.
“You’re welcome. It’s really no problem. I’m happy to have him with me.”
“I hate to hurry things, but our reservations are in twenty minutes,” Steven says.
“Let’s go. I’m going to have a big fucking martini!” Melanie says. I like her already.
The restaurant is an intimate, lovely little bistro at the top of a hill. They have an impressive wine list and food to die for. A trio plays soft romantic songs while the patrons feast on delicious authentic French cuisine. It’s always great.
We’re shown to our table in a private corner of the room. The smells coming from the kitchen are making my mouth water.
“Look who’s here.”
Steven motions to the other side of the room. It’s Albie, sitting with a good looking young guy. I think I saw him on set a few days ago. They’re unaware of us and are in a deep conversation. There’s a table side bottle of champagne. Good champagne.
“Maybe I’ll go say hello. I always liked Albie,” says Ben.
“Don’t be a cock blocker, honey.”
Melanie laughs when she says this, and so do we. She leans over and kisses her husband.
“Yeah, Dad, what she said.”
I catch Melanie staring at me.
“How can it be that the gods overlooked you for stardom, Bliss?” Her question takes me by surprise.
“You’re a beautiful woman.”
“Thank you. I never had any interest in acting.”
“Bliss is a writer. A very good writer,” says Steven.
“Really? What kind of a writer?
” Ben asks.
“I’m an aspiring screenwriter. I’m just about to submit my feature screenplay to Jack’s agent. Jack seems to think he’d be interested.”
“Wonderful. Jack isn’t a bull shitter. If he thinks it’s good then it is. He knows good scripts. And he recognizes talent. That’s why he’s pulling for Steven to direct. We’ve known him for twenty-five years,” says Ben.
“He and Steven are unusual because they’ve both stayed grounded. Two beautiful men in a business that spoils the best men’s good intentions,” Melanie adds.
“What’s happening with your directing, son?”
“I’m up for a small independent film that’s shooting in January or February. I’ll find out within the next month or so.”
I look at Steven. This is news to me. He picks up on my expression. “I didn’t want to say anything before it happens. It’s just a dream right now.”
Melanie weighs in. “Let her in on your dreams. Then they can become her dreams as well. You know, put the idea out in the universe. See yourselves becoming the people you both dream about.”
“Thank you. Well said,” I say.
The night progresses with an ease born of mutual attraction and effortless conversation. Multiple bottles of wine fuel the topics. Escargot, mussels, and French onion soup are just the preludes to our entrees.
Melanie asks me about my ring, and I tell her about Finn’s parents. Ben wants to hear about Steven’s roll over, and we hear about both men’s movie history.
His father is an interesting, intelligent man. There’s a kindness to him, and he underplays his impressive life history. Melanie is fun and witty and one-hundred percent dedicated to Ben. Their relationship looks solid. They act like they just met and are wooing each other. It seems totally genuine. Nothing is forced or false about it.
I have no idea why Steven thought I might not connect with her. Already, I see her as a woman I could become good friends with.
At one point, Ben gets up and goes to Albie’s table. He stays a few minutes, then comes back to us. He’s a little loaded, and he’s definitely having fun with Steven.
“Ok, here’s the lowdown. They’re on their first date, the kid worked as an extra on the film, he’s twenty-four, and he’d love to be a stuntman. I told him he should talk to you, son. Albie thought it was an excellent suggestion.”
“Oh God, Dad, tell me you didn’t.” Ben laughs out loud.
“I’m just yanking your chain. I’m sure that kid just wants to say he screwed a famous Hollywood director. Jesus, I’m not that big of a prick.” He laughs.
“But he has a big prick, so that’s in the plus column,” says Melanie.
The evening passes, and we leave the restaurant filled with French flavors, memorable conversations, and for me, forged friendships. Love was present tonight. Love of parent to child, love of husband to wife and love of me to him.
When Steven and I finally crawl into bed, we want for nothing else.
Chapter Twelve
STEVEN
It’s eleven in the morning, and my cottage looks pretty much like party central and smells like a breakfast diner. Bliss is making French toast, and I’m frying bacon. Soft jazz plays in the background, and this song is heavy on the saxophone. Love it. Renee’s setting the table, and my dad is mixing Bloody Mary’s. Melanie and Albie are having a fiery debate over the latest political hot-button topic.
They’re two bright, well-informed people who have landed on opposite sides of an issue. But they like each other, so neither one lands too hard a blow. They’re well matched debaters, who really just enjoy the verbal sparring.
“You’ve got your head up your ass about this one my friend,” says Melanie.
“At least I have a good view. Your heads in the sand. Conveniently looking away from the facts. Status quo for you and your Washington friends,” Albie answers.
They can’t keep straight faces. They both crack up at their comments.
“Ok you two, put the daggers down and come sit. Breakfast is almost ready.”
There’s a knock on the door, and without waiting for an answer, Jack walks in.
“I’m starving. Oh, Bloody Mary’s. I’ll start with that. Morning, all.”
“Good timing,” I say
“Morning, Jack,” says Bliss.
There’re greetings all around. My dad and Melanie get up to hug their friend.
My dad was Jack’s Stunt Coordinator in many of his early films. That’s how we met. I was a young stuntman working on my dad’s films, and Jack a young actor just starting out.
“Jack, it’s good to see you,” says Ben.
They come together in a bear hug.
“Forget about you, let me at that gorgeous woman you came with.” He takes Melanie in his arms.
“Hello, beautiful. You never change. What’s your secret? Does Ben have magic sperm perhaps?”
“Yes. I rub it all over my face every night.”
“Aha! The real fountain of youth.”
“Jack, we’ve missed you.”
We make a talkative group seated around the rectangular wooden dining table. I catch Bliss’s eye at one point. I can’t help but look at that face. She smiles at me and mouths ‘I love you.’ I mouth ‘me too’ back at her. Nobody notices our private conversation, they’re too busy talking and laughing and enjoying the spread.
Albie asks over the chatter.
“Bliss, what’s the status of your screenplay? Finished yet?”
“It’s done. I finished the final rewrite a couple of days ago, registered it with the Writers Guild, and all I have to do now is press Send.”
“I’m sending it to Jerry as soon as I get it. Can you send me the PDF file today?” says Jack.
“I’ll have it to you by this afternoon.”
Everyone here knows that Jack’s agent is a major player in the business, and a shark when it comes to Jack’s career. If he agreed to read something, he must already know it’s good.
“I want it too,” Albie says.
“Me too, Bliss, if you don’t mind. Jack has told me how good it is,” Renee adds.
Bliss’s face shows the contained excitement she’s feeling.
“I’d love for you both to read it. I’ll get your email addresses and send it to you later today. And please, don’t hold back on your opinions. I’ve got a very thick skin.”
It’s a heady moment when you first believe your dream has a chance of coming true. And I know, more than Bliss does, just how unusual it is to even get to this step in the long process of selling a script. How many first-time writers have a box office headliner, a director and a top-tier agent asking to read your script before you’ve tried to sell it? That’s how word of mouth takes hold in this business. If you have the buzz, that’s the best thing that could happen. And I’m happy for her, as if I’d written the screenplay myself.
I’ve never told Bliss that I’d love to direct her screenplay. I’ve given it a lot of thought. I know just how I’d shoot it and the tone I’d go for.
But it’ll never happen, and it’s better if she doesn’t know I’d like it to. She’ll have absolutely no power over who will get to direct anyway. And she’d be lucky if Albie would want to take it on. Having him on board as the director would make it so much easier to get the financing. My name would almost be a negative. First-time Director doesn’t carry any weight. So I’ll just keep my mouth shut.
If Jack’s sending it to Jerry, maybe he’s interested in starring in the project. I can see him playing the part of the artist husband, Carl.
Carl midlife. I haven’t said that to Bliss though. Everything could fall apart at any moment. I’ve learned it’s better to let things unfold as they will. Even if you have great success in this business, you’re still going to be on a roller coaster of a ride for your entire working life. So, just buckle up and enjoy the climb.
“Hey, how about cocktails tonight at my place? A little drink, a little smoke. We’ll celebrate whatever the
fuck we want to celebrate. Just a few people, nothing elaborate,” Albie says.
“Are you going to bring your boyfriend?” Jack asks.
“How do you know about that? Jesus, there are no secrets on a set. And why do you care who the hell I’m fucking?”
“You’re fucking the kid? That was fast. Poor little boy. We may need to call child protective services.”
Jack is getting a huge kick out of this exchange, and so are the rest of us.
“He’s twenty-four years old, you asshole. And how did you hear about it?” says Albie.
“Steven told me. I want to meet the guy.”
“Thanks for that, Jack,” I say.
Albie changes the subject. He looks around the table.
“Be there around seven. I’ll get some food to nosh on too.”
“Sounds good. We’ll be there,” says Jack.
“You’re not invited.”
For the rest of the day, the four of us just relax. Bliss and Melanie take a long walk on the beach, while my dad and I watch the San Francisco 49ers annihilate their competition.
We’re stretched out on the comfortable couch, eating popcorn in front of the flat screen. No shoes, no long conversations and no company. Perfect. I watch as he tosses popcorn in the air, trying to catch it in his mouth. It reminds me of when I was a kid, just spending the day alone watching the game with my dad. At forty-eight or seventy-eight, he’s the same guy. I bet he was the same at eighteen too.
It’s seven o’clock when we walk from our cottages to Albie’s. We can hear a laugh rising above the sound of the waves. It’s the annoying, unmistakable Caprice.
I’m sure men everywhere practically come when they hear her throaty laugh. But for me, it grates on my senses like nails on a blackboard.
The party sounds like its rocking already, and Albie’s picture window frames, and reveals the talkative partiers. I can see Caprice holding court with Finn. She’s got one arm around his neck in a vise-like grip.
“Is that the bitch?” Melanie asks.
“Oh yeah. That’s her,” Bliss replies.
Bliss turns to me.
“I told Melanie about our unwelcome visitor.”
“We don’t have to go, you know,” I say.
