Kissing Brendan Callahan (11 page)

“You don't even have the fifteen hundred and fifty dollars.”

She shakes her head. Brendan returns with a bottle of water. Antonia gulps it down.

We watch the waves for a while. “Antonia's broke.”

“But she's a best-selling author.”

“She has tons of financial problems. I kind of feel sorry for her.”

“Well, I don't.” He turns to Antonia. “You can't be broke. You have to pay for that dent. Not to mention the two bucks you owe me for the water.”

She sniffles. “No one understands me, not even you, Sally. You're just like all the others.”

“My name is Sarah! And I'm not like the others! I trusted you and you let me down! You have to find a way to pay for that dent! I need those plays!”

“I have to pack, find Ophelia, and get away from here before that nasty man comes with the press.”

“But what about all those young writers who are counting on you to judge this contest? And there's my mother. She'll be furious.”

She gets up and heads toward the boardwalk, moving swiftly for a person who was dizzy just a few minutes ago.

We follow her. “I'll make her stay, if I have to sit on her,” I say to Brendan.

He smiles. “On the spunkiness scale, that's an eight.”

“Only eight!” We start up the steep stairs after her. Upstairs, someone is knocking loudly.

“Ms. DeMarco! Are you in there?”

We freeze. “It's my mother!” I whisper.

“This way,” says Brendan. “Before she sees us.”

Like in a fire drill, the three of us move quickly and quietly, scurrying under the boardwalk.

“Antonia DeMarco! Open the door!” calls my mother. Antonia winces.

We hear footsteps above our heads.
Don't come down here! Please, Mom.
As if reading my mind, Brendan grabs my hand and squeezes it. I can't breathe. After a bit, she stomps down the stairs and I pray that she doesn't come out on the beach. Finally, her footsteps retreat and she's gone. I breathe.

As we crawl out from under the boardwalk, a woman with a great tan and a bright orange bathing suit walks by. She glances our way and stops. “Are you Antonia DeMarco? I just love
Enraptured Thorns in My Heart.
How did you come up with the idea?”

Now
I understand why she doesn't like that question.

Antonia looks at her for a long moment, wet sand clinging to her wrinkled sundress. “No, I'm not Antonia DeMarco. People mistake me for her all the time. I'm nobody.”

*   *   *

We go to a diner
a block up from the beach. It's lunchtime, so it's crowded with workers from a nearby hospital.

“I can't stand being such a failure,” says Antonia.

We go to a booth toward the back. Brendan and I sit facing Antonia. When the waitress comes by, Antonia orders a Waldorf salad and a double espresso.

“Who's going to pay for all this food?” whispers Brendan.

I don't know what to say.

Brendan turns to a group of nurses sitting at a booth across from us. “Hey,” he says. “Did you hear about the woman who walked into the emergency room? She says, ‘Doctor, Doctor, my little boy just swallowed a roll of film!' ‘Hmmm,' says the doctor. ‘Let's hope nothing develops.'”

The nurses laugh. “Finally, a good audience,” he says.

He gets up and leans against the edge of their booth. “Another woman runs into the hospital, saying, ‘Doctor, Doctor, my son swallowed my pen, what should I do?' The doctor says, ‘Use a pencil till I get there.'”

“Hey, this kid is funny,” one says. “We can sure use someone like you in the emergency room. Stop in sometime, we all work there.”

Brendan continues. “Two doctors…”

I'm happy for him. I stare into my glass of water. So far this week, I've been wrong about Georgina, Brendan, and Antonia. Not a good average. I hate admitting that Mom is a better judge of character than I am. Maybe it's me who's closed-minded.

Antonia moves the lettuce around on her plate. Then she puts down the fork and looks deep into my eyes. “If only I could turn my life around.”

“You can,” I say. “Start small by finding the money to pay for the dent. Think of all the young writers you'll be helping.”

She nods. “You're very wise and very right.”

“You must have money somewhere.”

She shakes her head.

“Couldn't you sell something, like a piece of jewelry?”

She wipes her mouth. “Maybe. It's just that I can't think straight with all those people after me. If only I had someplace safe to go, just for a day or two. So I could calm down.” She smiles shyly. “Could you find such a place for me?” She puts her hand over mine. “You're the only person who's been nice to me. Help me begin to redeem myself. All I need is a little time.” Her eyes look teary and I hand her another napkin.

“Okay, I'll try, but don't just
say
you want to help me. You have to swear that you'll really help me.”

“Absolutely. With your help, I will turn my life around.”

Can I trust her? Do I have a choice? Where can I hide her? Where, where, where? I rack my brain, but only one place comes to mind.

There's a public phone in the lobby. I dial. It rings several times. She picks up.

“It's me,” I say.

“It can't be Sarah,” says Georgina. “I just told Sarah's mother that Sarah is upstairs where
Sarah
is supposed to be.”

“This is Vicky,” I say. “I need a really big favor.”

“What is it,
Vicky?
”

“Antonia is in a lot of financial trouble. Can you take her home with you? Just for one night. It'll give her some extra time to come up with the money. When we get the plays back, I'll sit with her until she reads them.”

“No way,” answers Georgina.

“Please. It will only be for one night. I can't take her to my house or to Brendan's. I don't know what else to do.”

There's silence on the other end. “Georgina?” My voice cracks.

After a long moment, she sighs. “For some strange reason, Granddad loves her books.”

“Then you'll do it?”

“Yes. But you really owe me now. Where are you?”

“We're at the Dolphin Diner on Sand Lane. Can you come and get her?”

“I can't come for Antonia unless Sarah is here to take care of the baby.”

“Sarah will be right there.”

“Good. She should hurry because her mum's on her way home.”

“One other thing. Could you bring enough money for a Waldorf salad and a double espresso?” I hang up and go back to the booth. “Antonia, I found somewhere for you to stay tonight.”

“Where?” asks Brendan.

“With Georgina.”

“The dancer?”

“Yes.” I turn to Antonia. “You'll be safe there, but you have to promise me that you will find something to sell.”

She pats my arm. “Absolutely.”

“Brendan, I have to get home. Will you stay with Antonia until Georgina picks her up?”

“I'm supposed to meet someone. It's important.”

“Could you postpone it for an hour? This is very important. We shouldn't leave her alone.”

He looks through his pockets. “I'll see if I have her number.”

Her number? Is it Anne Marie Valgetti?

TWENTY

I get home minutes before Mom. Breathe. Pretend everything's normal. I grab one of Jason's storybooks and read to him about a naughty mouse. Mom walks into the living room and smiles. “Having fun?”

“You bet,” I say. “Right, Jason?” It's a good thing he can't talk yet.

She pulls at her hair. “I stopped by Antonia's, but she wasn't there. Do you know where she is?”

“No idea,” I say.

Mom kisses us both. “Has Georgina left?”

“She had to do something important.”

Mom stretches. “I'd like to feel human again. Do you mind if I take a short soak to wash away a rotten day?”

“Take your time.”

“Thank you, honey.” Mom goes upstairs. A little while later, I take Jason into the kitchen and dial Georgina.

“Granddad is thrilled to meet Antonia. He put on his tux, which he hasn't worn since 1952.”

“Has she thought of something to sell yet?”

“All she's done so far is talk, talk, talk about her problems. She's annoying.”

“Sorry,” I say. “Remind her that she has to find something worth fifteen-fifty.”

“Will do.”

“And tomorrow morning,” I say, “we have to make a plan so she's never alone.”

“Don't worry,” she says. “Granddad will keep an eye on her. When he gets attached, it's not easy to get away.”

I hang up. Jason wriggles in my arms. “Please be good,” I say, wishing he could understand. “I'm in the middle of a crisis.” I rock him and he settles down a little. I really appreciate Georgina's help, but I'm having major doubts believing Antonia is going to help me.

Mom, dressed in a long, silky robe, enters the kitchen. Her hair is wet but neat again. “Is something wrong?” she asks.

“No.”

“Then can I have my cutie?” I hand Jason to Mom. He gurgles.

I go to my room and pace. I take out my notebook and cross out every nice thing I wrote about Antonia. In its place, I write
selfish, annoying, misguided,
and
totally clueless.
I thumb back through the book. These are the same words I've used to describe my mother. I throw the notebook under the bed.

Later, there's a knock on my door. “Hey,” says Mom. “How about grilled chicken for dinner?” I'm in the window seat, facing out, so she can't see I'm crying.

“Sure.”

She moves to the window seat and turns my head around. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You're sitting here crying about nothing?” I nod. She sits. “Has Brendan done something to upset you?”

“No,” I say.

Mom puts her arm around my shoulder. “I hate to admit this, but maybe I've been wrong about him. Maybe under that nice exterior is wildness. If he has made you do anything against your will, you can tell me.”

I stare at her in disbelief. Is my mother alluding to sex? “Mom,” I say. “Brendan and I haven't done anything.”

Relief washes over her face. She kisses my forehead. “You shut me out a lot, you know. Your father says it's all part of growing up. But I don't like it, all the same.”

I nod.

“That offer to look for another writing contest is still open, if you're interested,” she says.

I don't say anything, and then we just sit there in silence for what seems an eternity. Finally, she slips out of the room. Once she's gone, I start crying because it would have been a relief to tell her everything. I remember a time when I could.

After dinner, I go to bed, burying my face in the pillow. I sleep lightly, waking again and again from unpleasant dreams.

“Sarah!” I open my eyes. Georgina stares down at me. It must be morning because the sun is up. “I've got bad news.”

I bolt up. “What's wrong?”

“Antonia is gone!”

*   *   *

“How can she be gone?”
I yell. “You were supposed to watch her.”

“Shhh. Your mum will hear.”

I lower my voice. “Tell me what happened.”

She sits on the bed. “When I got up, she had already left. Granddad said Antonia called a cab an hour ago. He tried to convince her to stay, but Antonia was in a very excitable mood. She muttered something about leaving for Fiji and how they wouldn't be able to find her there.”

“Fiji! You can't go there if you're broke.”

“Your friend drove me crazy. She talked constantly about how her life was in ruins. This went on all night. I couldn't stand it, so I went into the backyard and danced. It's the only way I can relax. So, I am really tired today and it's probably why I didn't hear her leave”

“She lied to me again.” I rock on the bed, stunned. “If she can afford to go to Fiji, then she could have paid to get my plays back. She's a horrible person. What am I going to do now?”

“I'm so sorry, Sarah.”

Mom pops her head in. She's already dressed for work. “Anything wrong?”

“No, Mom.”

“Be down in a minute,” says Georgina.

Mom leaves.

“What am I going to tell my mother?”

Georgina takes an envelope out of her pocket. “I think this is for you.” She hands it to me. The envelope is addressed to “Sally.” The least Antonia could have done was get my name right. I tear open the envelope and take out the note.

Dear Sally,

I'm overcome with creativity!!! I feel rejuvenated and inspired after not being able to write for three years!! I'm off to Fiji to begin the screenplay. Sorry I couldn't say good-bye in person, but I need to track down an old friend who works for Worldwide Airlines.

Last night I watched in total rapture as a divine nymphet danced in the moonlight. She moved with passion and total abandon. She was bewitching. I knew instantly that the movie should be about her. This nymphet is filled with heavenly abilities, but is trapped in a mundane and weary existence, toiling each day as a nanny and having to come home to deal with an exploitive and interfering relative. Dancing alone under the stars is her only escape. Oh, Sally. My torturous block has ended. I will redeem myself. What life offers you, and when it offers, take it all!

Yours, Antonia

I stare at the letter. Georgina grabs it and reads. “Imagine me, the star of a movie.”

“Don't gloat. I'm in a lot of trouble.”

“Sorry. Really it's a terrible situation.” She stares at the letter. “Divine nymphet. Brilliant. Did you say Bronson McGee might play my love interest?”