Famous (13 page)

Hannah steps out onto the back porch and asks
if she can speak to Bo for a minute. The way Bo doesn’t say
anything, but just hops off the table and jogs back toward the
house confirms two things for me:

(i) he’s scared shitless of that woman;
and

(ii) he hates her exponentially more than I
do.

Sam is pretty engrossed with playing in the
pool when Bo runs back into the house, but he notices. I guess kids
always notice when their parents leave. Sam immediately looks at me
like “should I be upset about this?” and I’m thinking please don’t
start crying, but I guess he feels comfortable with me because he
returns his attention to the water toys.

I step down into the grass and walk over to
the pool.

“Hey, there, Sam.”

He looks up at me but doesn’t say anything. I
step into the pool. The water is cool.

“Can I sit down, Sam?”

He looks at me but still won’t talk. I sit
down and shiver as the cool water comes up to my bellybutton. Sam
is playing with a green, plastic boat. He’s sailing it through the
water. After awhile, he hands me a red boat. I sail it through the
water just like he’s doing. He takes the red boat back and gives me
the green one.

“Sam?” He looks up at me, squinting now as
the sun has come up over those distant hills. “I’m your uncle.
Uncle Lance. I love you, Sam.”

He looks down into the blue water. I think
he’s more interested in the boat.

Chapter 15

on the road with Kara * stops for snacks *
what to call him * Los Padres * have their picture made at an
overlook * hikes up Mt. Pinos * picnics in the meadow * why Kara’s
dead to art * takes a nap * wakes and kisses her * a phone call
from Rich

I arrive at Kara’s apartment building at
10:59. It’s a glorious Sunday morning, and she’s glorious in
it.

She climbs into the Hummer. I ask her where
she wants to go, and she tells me to surprise her. She’s wearing
these little khaki hiking shorts, a navy tank top, and deep dark
shades like mine. Her skin smells like coconut and it glistens.

California is full of wonders: Yosemite,
Kings Canyon, Sequoia, Redwood, Death Valley, Lassen Volcanic, the
Channel Islands…but these paradises are all so far away, so Bo
suggested I take Kara north up I-5 into Los Padres National
Forest.

At high speed, a Hummer is pretty loud.
Especially on the interstate, with the top down and a steady
sixty-mile an hour wind pummeling your face. But I don’t mind, and
I’ll tell you why. It forces a comfortable silence. If Kara and I
were in my brother’s minivan, it would be quiet, and there would be
this pressure to make engaging conversation. I don’t think I’ve
ever been on the business end of an engaging conversation in my
life.

But things are going very well. I glance over
every now and then, and Kara’s leaning back in the seat, just
taking it all in. She seems to be highly relaxed, and sometimes
when she sees me look at her, she smiles and pats my hand, the way
a wife might do. You should see it.

In Castaic, I get off the interstate and pull
into the parking lot of a convenience store. There’s an ice-filled
cooler in the back seat which I swiped from Bo’s garage. I point it
out to Kara and tell her we should go in, pick out drinks and food
for lunch.

We walk through the gravely parking lot. The
sun is bright and hot.

Inside the store, it’s cool and smoky.

I pick out two pimento cheese sandwiches from
the freezer and a six-pack of soda. At the register, I wait for
Kara. The clerk is an old man. He smokes an unfiltered cigarette
and just stares at me, like he knows who I am and could give a
shit. You’ve got to respect that.

Kara sets a tuna sandwich and a pint of
vanilla ice cream on the counter and I pay for everything with
warm, soft cash.

We walk back out into the noonday heat and
stow everything in the cooler.

As I put the key into the ignition, Kara
touches my arm.

“Jim, I have to tell you, I’m having a tough
time getting past the whole celebrity thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was doing fine until this morning.
But all my friends from last night’s party called, and it’s not
their fault, but they were just making such a huge deal out of our
date today. I wish I didn’t even know who you were. Do you know
what I mean? I’m just afraid it’s coloring this experience for
me.”

“You think about things a lot, don’t
you?”

She smiles and touches my arm again. “Often
to my own detriment.” I love it when she touches my arm.

“I’ve just had maybe the best idea ever,” I
say, and it’s true. I have a terrific one.

“What?”

“I’m not Jim Jansen.”

“Huh?”

“I’m not Jim Jansen anymore.”

“Well, who are you?”

“Call me Lance.”

“Lance?” She giggles. “Why?”

“I’m serious.”

“I’m not going to call you Lance.”

“What’s wrong with Lance?”

“It’s not your name.”

“Pretend it is.”

“This is too weird.”

“Weirder than spending a day with the James
Jansen?”

She tilts her head in thought, and I glimpse
myself in the reflection of her sunglasses: khaki pants, white
shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I’ve borrowed my brother’s
leather sandals. I smile at my reflection and Kara thinks I’ve
smiled at her.

“What?” she says.

“So what’s my name?”

“Lance, I guess.”

“You don’t like it?”

“You just don’t look like a Lance. What’s
your last name going to be?”

“Dunkquist.”

She guffaws. “Lance Dunkquist?”

“Lance Blue Dunkquist.”

She punches my arm very flirtatiously and
laughs.

“I know it’s a stupid name,” I say.

“Well, start the car, Lance Blue Dunkquist,
and let’s get to wherever we’re going.”

Interstate 5 climbs above four thousand feet
and the air turns cooler.

At Tejon Pass, we pull onto the shoulder and
have our picture taken by an elderly couple on a Sunday drive up
from Santa Barbara. I introduce myself as Lance. They are sweet old
folks. The kind that make the prospect of old age not quite so
horrifying. When we’re back in the Hummer and driving along the
winding, secondary road, I tell Kara how seeing an old couple like
that makes me look forward to getting older, and she looks at me
like I’ve uttered a great truth or something. She holds my hand. I
think we’re having one of those moments, and I guess the point of
life is having as many of them as you can. This is my second. It
feels even better than the first.

We park at the end of a national forest road
at the foot of Mt. Pinos. It’s a few minutes past one. Most of the
picnic tables are occupied by families. They’re a beautiful thing
when you’re with someone like Kara. If I were alone and feeling
like myself, I would hate them.

Since the cooler is small and equipped with a
shoulder strap, I lift it from the back seat and ask Kara to carry
the blanket.

We set out up a hiking trail that meanders
through the conifers.

Clouds obscure the sun.

The air turns even cooler.

No one’s on the trail.

We walk side by side.

The path climbs and climbs.

After an hour, we reach a meadow strewn with
boulders and patches of old snow near the summit. Kara says that
this would be a lovely spot to stop, and I agree. We’re both a
little winded, a little sweaty.

I follow Kara off the trail, and she finds a
level plane of grass and spreads the blanket. We remove our
footwear and stroll barefooted through the warm grass. Then we sit
down on the blanket, and I open the cooler. Plunging my hand into
the ice, I emerge with two cans of cola and our sandwiches. The
high altitude has created pressure inside the bag of potato
chips.

We’re hungry from the hike, and we eat in
silence. The sandwich tastes good. I love pimento cheese, even
though I’m not exactly sure what it is.

I’m so happy. If you knew me at all, you
could tell.

We pass the pint of ice cream back and forth.
It’s soft and cold and gone in no time.

I stretch out on the blanket and put on my
shades because the sun is directly overhead. Kara wipes her mouth
on her navy tank top (I forgot to bring napkins) and then she
crawls over to me and cuddles up with her head on my shoulder, her
hand on my chest.

Says, “This is so nice. Not at all what I
thought today would be like.”

“What’d you expect?”

“I was afraid you would try to blow my mind.
I sort of thought we’d be flying up to San Francisco or down to
Mexico. This is so…understated. You couldn’t have planned it any
better.”

“You know a lot about me, but I don’t even
know one thing about you,” I tell her as I begin running my fingers
through her hair. “Except where you live and that one of your
friends is getting married soon.”

“I’m a grad student,” she says. She stretches
one of her legs over mine. “I’m in the art history program at UCLA.
Which means I’ll be teaching the rest of my life.”

“What’s your favorite painting?”

“I don’t have one. I can’t enjoy them
anymore. All I see is technique. Color. Brushstrokes. I see the
artist. His life. What else was happening in the world while he
created the work. I see what everyone else has written about it. I
see other paintings that knock him off. That he knocks off. I see
everything but the work itself. By the time I’ve finished my
dissertation, I’ll know everything about renaissance period work,
except how to be moved by it.”

“What was your favorite painting when you
could still feel?”

She sits up on one elbow. Our faces are
inches apart. She has very pink, perfect lips. “I don’t remember.
But I’m sure someone ruined it for me.” She smiles and takes off my
sunglasses.

We keep talking. About small things mostly.
She doesn’t ask me anything about being famous, and this is a
relief, because I wouldn’t feel much up to discussing it. She tells
me about her roommate, Colleen, and the cat named Slick who
inhabits their apartment (in violation of the lease). While she’s
talking, I try thinking of what I might tell her about my life. I
can’t really come up with anything, so I just keep asking her
questions.

After awhile, she puts her head back on my
shoulder.

The breeze is constant.

We close our eyes and sleep.

I wake before Kara. The only sound is wind
rustling the grass blades. I stare at her face. The mountains. The
pines. Bakersfield to the north and the trace of the San Andreas
Fault, cutting through these hills. To the west, far, far beyond,
the sky blue meets a deeper blue, and I wonder,
Is that the
sea?

I look back into Kara’s face. I kiss her
forehead, her left cheek, right cheek. Her eyes open. We kiss
open-mouthed for a long time.

As evening rolls in from the east, we drive
down out of the hills into warmer air. LA looks beautiful in the
distance. Lights winking on in the evening haze. It’s not such an
indifferent place if you know what you’re doing.

I’m feeling so good. It’s like I don’t even
care what happens now, because I’ve had this day with Kara. She’s
so liberating. I glance at her sitting in the passenger seat. She’s
called me Lance ever since we had our discussion in the convenience
store parking lot, and the name isn’t so bad coming off her
lips.

“Can I see your place?” she asks, jolting me
out of my thoughts.

“Really?”

“I want to see where you live, Jim. I think
I’m ready for it.”

I don’t say anything.

“Is that all right?” she asks.

My cell rings. First call on the new phone. I
fish it out of my pocket.

“Hello?”

“Jim! Rich!”

“Rich, what’s up?”

“I didn’t see you again at La Casa, so I
thought I’d call about Tuesday night. The premiere’s at the El
Capitan. How many people you bringing?”

“Just me and a date.”

“I’ll have my assistant add you to the guest
list. The party should be a real kick. Brendan’s coming. Max and
Brody, too. Everyone’ll be just thrilled to see you. It’s going to
be lavish.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay, then. You need anything, anything at
all, I’m your man.”

“You’re a good friend, Rich.”

“Where are you? Sounds like you’re in a plane
or something.”

“Actually, I’m heading down the 405. I spent
the day with this lovely woman I met last night at the club.” I
look at Kara as I say this. Homerun.

“You must have the top down on your
Porsche.”

“Oh yeah. I guess you can hear all the
wind.”

“Well, you’re breaking up. I’ll see you
Tuesday then. What’s that?” he says to someone else. “Oh yes,
Margot sends her love.”

“Right back at her.”

“He says right back at you, babe.”

“What? Oh, that hurts. She asks if your
torrid love affair is back on.”

“Absolutely.”

“Well then, goodnight you bastard.”

I close the phone and look over at Kara.

“Do you have plans Tuesday evening?”

“Nothing in stone.”

“Would you come with me to a movie premier
and a party afterward?”

Her eyes kindle, then die.

“Jim, I’d be terrible company.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“It’s no fun being the only nobody at a
party.”

“You aren’t a nobody.”

“No offense, but in a roomful of stars, I’m a
nobody. You don’t want to take me, Jim.”

“I do. And I don’t want to hear you say that
nobody business anymore.”

“You don’t have any idea what it’s like to be
obscure. And the prospect of having to mingle with movie stars
isn’t enjoyable for me.”

“If you want to have a relationship with me,
Kara, it’s something you’ll have to learn to deal with. People
respect me. They’ll respect my date.”