by Liz Nugent
‘I wish I’d known this.’
‘But when Moll met your dad, she thought he was the answer to her dreams, you know. He was almost old enough to be her father, and posh compared to us. She adored him in the beginning, but Moll got bored easily, and even though your dad was only fifteen years older, in those days it was like a generation gap. Moll came of age during the sixties. He was a clerk in an insurance company when she was in primary school.’
I was overwhelmed with sadness. If Mum had told us any of this, we might have been able to understand each other and to help each other.
I made no attempt to see my brothers on that visit home. On the business-class flight back to LA, I drank straight vodka and checked into a hotel for a night before returning to the condo I was sharing with Mary.
Dr Mukherjee thought my mother’s attitude to me, although cruel, was understandable. I had caused her the greatest fear she had ever known. I must try to see things from my mother’s point of view. I must try to forgive her. The baby that haunted me was me, asking me to love him, she said. She prescribed more antipsychotic drugs and encouraged me to confront my phantom visitor, to welcome him, nourish him and cherish him. Easier said than done. He terrified me. I terrified me. I didn’t know what I or he was capable of. And I didn’t tell her I was drinking again.
On Christmas Day 2017, three months after the death of her mother, Daisy took an overdose. Mary and I were back in Dublin for a few days to see her family. I had a week’s break from filming. Daisy had been living in a flat with some randomers who had all gone home to their parents for Christmas, leaving her alone. She was still refusing to see Brian or Will. She had stockpiled paracetamol and took enough to fell a horse. But before she passed out, she had written a blog to her followers to say goodbye. Some of them who knew her called an ambulance and Brian and they broke the door down and got to her in time.
That kid is going to grow up to be me. I feel sorry for her. But her near-death caused an uneasy truce between Brian and Will. They came together for her sake. They got in touch with me. On her release from hospital, Daisy moved back into Brian’s house. Will and I visited her there regularly and I pretended to like my brothers in front of her. Daisy was heavily medicated and often stared into space. I wanted to ask her if she was seeing a tiny baby, but I was afraid that by saying it out loud I might accidentally infect her with my illness. My madness is hereditary, after all.
In January, I was back in LA, filming Innocence, a biopic of the painter Caravaggio, based on the play by Irish playwright Frank McGuinness, when the Oscar nominations were announced. The Star Maiden was nominated in three categories. I was up for Best Supporting Actor and we had nods for Best Score and Best Screenplay. Will’s Brazen Souls had one nomination, for Best Cinematography. The Irish media were ecstatic though some speculated that Brazen Souls might have gotten a Best Film nod if it wasn’t for Will’s involvement. Will had given an in-depth interview to Grace Kennedy about living with HIV and the grief he felt after Susan’s death. He publicly told all the women he had slept with to get tested. He agreed to be a spokesperson for an AIDS charity and fronted a public awareness campaign about how HIV almost never led to death because of the free availability of antiretroviral drugs, but the accusations of harassment towards women damaged him badly. He won back a little sympathy from the public, but not much. Will had had to put his next project on hold because the financiers had pulled out.
Brian emailed us both and asked if he could bring Daisy to the Oscars with us in March. It would be just the lift she needed, he said. He begged and wheedled, said he didn’t have the money for accommodation or air fares but that it would mean so much to Daisy. Will and I both said yes. We could hardly say no.
41
March 2018
Luke
I met Will, Brian and Daisy in the Cabana Cafe on Sunset Boulevard for breakfast early on the morning of the Oscars ceremony. We greeted each other at the outdoor table with suspicion but faked warmth for the sake of Daisy, who stared vacantly at her hands. She had lost an alarming amount of weight in the six months since Susan had died. Her once moon-shaped face was gaunt. I couldn’t help staring. Where her cheeks had been, there was slackness of skin, and her collarbones jutted through the silver top she wore with jeans, which hung loosely from her hips. She didn’t speak much, pushed her scrambled egg around her plate and drank exactly two sips of her freshly squeezed orange juice, despite Brian and Will desperately urging her to have some toast or a bagel. I warned them to leave her alone. She looked up and smiled at me gratefully. Brian tried to encourage his daughter to talk and asked her about her blog. Daisy said she’d lost interest in blogging. Brian persisted with the conversation and asked her about her future plans. Daisy said her plans were between her and her new agent. That shut Brian up.
My tiny baby was squirming around, scratching at my skin, tearing at my soul.
Brian
The breakfast reunion was full of awkward silences. We hadn’t all been together in months. Will proposed a toast to Susan and we raised our coffee cups, but I glared at Will. Luke was hollow-eyed, anxious and fidgety, and kept raising his hand to his neck and rubbing the hollow beneath his Adam’s apple. This was a bad sign. It’s a thing he always did before he had an episode.
I ate heartily, knowing that Will or Luke would be paying the bill. I told them how difficult it was for me to get clients since the scandals. Will suggested I could sell ‘Luke’s house’ and get a small apartment in the city centre. I didn’t answer.
I changed the subject and speculated as to who would win which Oscar tonight. I magnanimously, for Daisy’s sake, congratulated Will on Brazen Souls and said it was a fine film.
Will said he hadn’t got around to seeing Luke’s film, The Star Maiden, yet but hoped Luke would get the Oscar, though he couldn’t resist the urge to say that it was unlikely because Luke hadn’t even been nominated for a Golden Globe or a Screen Actors Guild Award.
I said I was really surprised Will hadn’t seen Luke’s film yet, since everyone was talking about it. Luke announced he had written an acceptance speech, just in case.
‘That might be tempting fate,’ said Will.
‘You should really hope I don’t win, you know, because you’ll all get a mention in the speech if I do, even Mum.’
‘You won’t mention me, will you, Luke?’ asked Daisy nervously.
Luke pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket and drew a line through his script on the page. Will and I leaned in to see what was written, but he refolded it and replaced it in his pocket before we got a chance.
Daisy excused herself to go to the toilet.
‘Is she going to throw up?’ Luke said to Will.
‘Ask her father. How should I know?’ he replied.
I wiped my forehead with a serviette and said quietly, ‘She’s in therapy, but it’s expensive. I couldn’t get medical insurance for her after the overdose. I can only afford for her to see someone once a month. The public waiting lists are really long.’
Will glowered. ‘I raised your child financially for twenty-two years, Brian. Such a coincidence that you only did that DNA test well after her eighteenth birthday. No prizes for guessing why you took so long.’
‘That’s bullshit,’ I said. ‘Susan always denied she was my kid.’
‘Don’t bring Susan into this,’ Will erupted.
‘I’m not the one who cheated on her. I’m not the one who gave –’
Luke slammed his glass down on the table. ‘I’ll cover the cost of Daisy’s therapy, okay?’
He took out the page and scribbled something on to the bottom of it. Will and I strained to get a glimpse again, but Luke was quick and discreet.
Daisy returned to the table then, looking pale and red-eyed.
‘What are you wearing tonight, Daisy? Or should I say who are you wearing?’ I said, increasingly desperate to make things normal for her.
‘My mother,’ said Daisy. ‘I mean, I’m wearin
g Mum’s wedding dress. She was five months pregnant when she wore it, so I’ve had to do a lot of alterations, but I think it’s going to look good.’
Her eyes brightened with hope and the tension eased. Daisy was the glue holding us together. A smile from her lifted us all.
William
Once Daisy had lightened up a bit, we joked about our designer tuxedos and Luke said that Mary had been given a dress to wear by an Irish designer. ‘She’s not doing the red carpet with me though.’
‘Why not? She’s your partner,’ said Brian
‘Not any more.’ It wasn’t news to me. ‘Anyway, she doesn’t want the attention.’
‘Oh, Luke,’ said Brian, ‘what did you do this time? Did you fall off the wagon again? Just go to a few AA meetings. You’ll patch things up.’ Luke put his hands up. He wasn’t prepared to discuss it.
Brian paused. ‘I know! Why don’t you take Daisy on the red carpet? Would you like that, Daisy?’
Her face lit up and a genuine smile appeared. ‘Really? Really? Thanks a million, Luke.’
What a terrible idea.
We were staying in the Regency Oriental Hotel, a mile from the Dolby Theater where the ceremony would take place, but we brothers took separate Ubers and said we’d see each other at the ceremony. Luke and I, and now Daisy, were the only ones due to do the official red carpet. I was prepared to decline any interviews. I was sure Brazen Souls would have been up for Best Picture if it hadn’t been for the MeToo brigade. Mary and Brian would meet us inside. Brian and Daisy had seats in the upper balcony. Luke, Mary and I were all to be seated in the front tiers.
Los Angeles had been buzzing for a week. Luke, Mary and I had been at all the right parties: the Screen Ireland Fundraiser and the Oscar Wilde party at Bad Robot in Santa Monica. Luke didn’t take the hint to leave these parties with everyone else at nine p.m., despite Mary begging him not to make a show of himself. He would disappear with random strangers and return to the hotel late. His room was next door to mine and his lunatic raving kept me awake until the small hours. We had all conducted interviews with the media, but it was already being noted by some journalists that Luke’s behaviour was ‘unpredictable’ or ‘morose’. They did not use the words ‘drunk’ or ‘stoned’, but I was pretty sure he was drinking again. He certainly wasn’t sleeping.
Mary and I, as independent producers, used the week to make deals, and to hustle for funding and distributors. Our schedules were full. We were relieved the parties ended so early. LA parties were not like wild Irish parties that ended in the small hours. We nodded politely at each other. The Irish media were watching us like hawks.
Daisy had confided in me that her new LA agent was disappointed with her. He had suggested she live-tweet the Oscars, but she had refused to do it. She told me she might have to sleep with him to smooth things over.
‘Daisy!’ I said, horrified.
‘It wouldn’t be the first time,’ she said. ‘MeToo is a fashionable hashtag, but next year it will be forgotten. I’m not going to be a victim. I’m the one who can manipulate my agent, I know he prefers me thin. “Much better for business,” he says.’ I looked at this girl who used to be my daughter, who I had loved more than anyone in the world. She was a stranger. I missed Susan. I missed Mum.
Luke
Mary had summoned me to her hotel room. She begged me to come to an AA meeting with her. My drinking was no longer a secret between us. She had already told me our relationship was over. We were only together for the sake of appearances and so she could keep me straight through all the media focus since the nominations were announced. Hollywood was less concerned with my antics than the British and Irish media. #MeToo was the topic this year and the media was buzzing with which studio heads were next to roll as women came forward with their accusations. Will was the one they were after.
I had wanted Mary to go public with the abuse she had suffered at Will’s hands, but Mary point-blank refused. Although she did not contradict what Daisy had written, she refused to confirm it either. She feared a backlash against the #MeToo movement and, as one of few female producers, she did not want to get caught in its wake. She was also worried that she might herself be implicated, because when she had worked for Will, she had arranged private meetings between Will and young actresses. She did not know what had happened in those meetings, but she had always suspected that when girls left ‘auditions’ with tears in their eyes, it wasn’t always because they didn’t get the part.
‘You knew what he was up to and you did nothing to stop it?’ I said.
‘So did you! Everyone knew. Look, he’s no Harvey Weinstein, but everyone is throwing rape and bullying and harassment into the same pool of shit and I do not want to be identified as an enabler or a victim.’
We had argued about this for weeks until, out of anger and frustration, I stopped hiding my drinking and Mary asked me to move out. The ground beneath me tilted to one side and I fell.
I refused to go to the AA meeting. I was going back to my hotel room to work on my speech. Mary looked at me. ‘Luke, you may not win, you know?’
‘Oh, I know that,’ I said, ‘but I think I need to make this speech anyway. Maybe not on stage, but somewhere, tonight.’
‘Just please, no matter what happens, be kind. Remember Daisy. I don’t think she can take any more scandal. Don’t drink today. Please. For her sake.’ I saw the tiny infant sitting in the crook of my arm. He was laughing at her.
‘Daisy is screwed. It’s too late for her. Nobody can save her now.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, pull yourself together. Why can’t you see that this might be the best night of your life? Why can’t you ever appreciate the good stuff?’
‘I don’t deserve it,’ I said. Or maybe the baby said it. I wasn’t sure who spoke.
‘Fuck you, Luke, you have an opportunity that people would kill for and you are throwing it away. Look beyond yourself for five minutes. I don’t know if you were always selfish or if it was your mental health that made you so self-obsessed. I’ve never been able to figure it out. For a while I thought you loved me, but now, I don’t think you ever did. You needed me. It’s not your most attractive quality.’
I said nothing, afraid of what might come out of my mouth. She gathered her briefcase. She had one meeting to attend before she went to some salon with Daisy. ‘Will you please leave?’ she said. I walked towards her bedroom door but stopped at her minibar and removed the miniature vodka bottles. She tried to grab them out of my hands, but I held tight and laughed in her face. The baby was running across my shoulders, cackling in glee.
Brian
I knocked lightly on Daisy’s door. ‘Daisy? It’s Brian. May I come in?’ She answered the door in a hotel robe that swamped her tiny frame. The change in her was so drastic. In eight months, she had gone from chubby to skeletal, and I was terrified for her.
‘Look, Daisy, I bought Twinkies and Junior Mints and Reese’s Kisses. You can’t get these in Ireland. Want to try some?’ I enthusiastically bit the end off a Twinkie to demonstrate how enjoyable eating was.
‘I’m not hungry, Brian,’ she said.
‘You must be, honey, you ate nothing at breakfast. Please, just take a bite of something. I mean, how embarrassing will it be if you faint on the red carpet? You don’t want that to happen, do you?’
‘I won’t faint.’
‘Daisy, love, what can I do to help you? Just tell me.’
‘Go back to the way things were.’
‘When?’
‘When? When Mum was alive and I thought she and Will were my parents, when I thought you were my uncle. When Will and Mum were together. To when I was ten years old.’
‘I wish I could. I really do.’
‘Go back to when people weren’t so hateful on the internet.’
‘I begged you to stay away from social media. It’s poison, but none of those people know you. None of them know the real Daisy.’ I changed tack. ‘You’re going to be on the red carp
et tonight! Isn’t that just amazing? Wait until all the keyboard warriors see that.’
‘I know exactly what’s going to happen. They’re going to say I’m too thin. That I sold out by losing the weight, that I betrayed all my followers and let them down. They’re going to speculate if Luke is my father now, or if I’m sleeping with my uncle. They’re going to say I’m pathetic for wearing a cheap old wedding dress.’
‘Well, why do you want to do it, then? You don’t have to.’
‘I want to look pretty for once. Haven’t you noticed? I fit in here. Almost every woman here has some kind of eating disorder. I blogged about it two years ago. I could actually live here. My LA agent thinks I should stay. He thinks I could be the poster girl for weight loss. All I have to do is smile and pretend I’m happy. It’s not that hard, acting.’
‘Listen to yourself. Think of all the positive things you wrote about being overweight, how much your body was capable of, how comfortable you felt. You were happier and healthier then, you didn’t have to fake it.’
‘I wasn’t faking it. I was much happier then but everything is different now. I miss Mum so much. I wish I hadn’t written all that family stuff on the blog. It’s my fault everything turned out this way.’
I told her I loved her, that none of this was her fault. We could try again, she could be herself with me. I begged her not to move to LA, not to live in such an unhealthy environment where the pressure on women to look impossibly perfect was greater than anywhere else in the world.
She allowed me to hold her bony hands. ‘Maybe. I don’t know what I want. I just want to be normal.’
We both cried and hugged. She ate half a Twinkie.
William
I told them all I had a meeting with WME about a future project, but instead I went to look up an old friend. Talaya Fuentes was a woman I had spent a lot of time with in the early part of the decade. She was in her early thirties, and like most of the women in LA, she was an aspiring actress and screenwriter. I had cast her in some minor roles, but I had genuinely liked her. I felt our friendship was mutual. If we had met under different circumstances at a different time, I might have dated her properly, and acknowledged her as my girlfriend. Her scripts weren’t bad but not quite good enough to get over the line when I brought them to my development team. Still, I had made special efforts for her and talked her up. I had avoided LA since my diagnosis but, now that I was here, I felt like I should pay Talaya a visit. I had followed her career online. She had done a few pilots, been a hostess on two seasons of a game show. She had written an animation series but had no screen credits for the last year. Now, according to her website links, she was making personalized cakes from her home in Santa Barbara.
