Mary Ellen Courtney - Hannah Spring 01 - Wild Nights (13 page)

“I’m still thinking about going to Hawaii,” I said. “Might as well make my pauper status official.”

“Good for you,” she said. “It will all work out.”

“Do men only like kittens?”

Margaret chuckled her experienced broad sound.

“Your mother. Men like any feline that shows up and acts interested. That’s never been your problem. It’s your choice of tomcats that gets you into trouble. Someone will come, maybe a nice Indian man; that could be interesting. Which reminds me; don’t worry about packing a lot. We should buy clothes when we get there if we want to look like we know what we’re doing. Ed plans to live in their man pajamas. Go have fun in Hawaii.”

An Indian man? Talk about geographically undesirable. Steve had left a voice message to call him. I didn’t want a workday fight; my ex-husband loved those. He’d even call me at work at the six-month mark to ask for a divorce. He was, if nothing else, consistently full of shit.

I ignored Steve and went back to putting the last stuff in boxes. A few hours later he texted: call me hannah.

I figured I’d call when I got home, but at 4:00 there was another text: stop fucking around & call me.

Okay okay. I called him.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“I work.”

“We need to talk about this.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else there is to say. It happened.”

“Meet me for a drink later.”

“I don’t want to drag this out.”

“Me either, just meet me.”

We agreed to meet at Musso and Franks after work. I told Karin and she just shook her head.

“Nothing good can come of this,” she said.

“You sound like Shakespeare or somebody. We’re having a drink at Musso’s so he can tell me what a deceitful bitch I am. I owe him that.”

She rolled her eyes just like Binky.

“Your guilt. Are you sure you’re not Jewish? Has he ever been rough with you?”

”Don’t be ridiculous,” I said.

I found Steve at the bar. I ordered a martini straight up. We sipped in quiet, looking at each other in the mirror behind the bar. It struck me that I looked much younger than Steve, even though he was only a few years older. His face was taking on angles that would soon be called craggy. A producer and his wife whom he knew came by; they said hello before going to their table. He didn’t introduce me. I felt tired like a person does when they’ve been boing boinging around in different dimensions. I finished my drink and Steve indicated two more to the bartender.

“I’m not going to just sit here and get drunk,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

He turned on his stool and looked at me. It was a strange look, like he was seeing me for the first time, and not seeing me at all. The bartender put drinks in front of us.

“I’m so pissed about this,” he said. “I can’t think about anything else.”

I don’t know what sadistic punishment is hidden in the cheerful sounding words ‘face the music’, probably suffering through a full bugle rendition of taps before being delivered by gun fire. I hoped the second martini would dull the bullets about to thud into my body.

“I know we never said we’re exclusive. I met someone in New York, a lawyer. Our parents are friends.”

“But you had dinner with my brother.”

“I like your brother and Anna. That’s why I came back early.”

“They liked you too, even with the chicken feet.”

We were back looking past bottles and glasses at each other‘s reflection in the bar mirror. People were happy in the background.

“So it worked out anyway,” I said.

“A truck driver?”

“Would a lawyer make it okay?”

“Nothing happened with her.”

“Me either,” I said.

“Yeah, right.”

“I should go,” I said.

“You can’t drive.”

“I’ll call a cab.”

“Stay, we’ll have dinner, it’ll be okay.” He indicated that we were moving to a table where a red-coated waiter resettled our drinks and left menus.

“Tomorrow is our last day,” I said.

“Then what? Visit San Diego?”

“I’m going to Kauai. Then India.”

We ate in silence; it was so tense I had trouble swallowing. The couple stopped by to say goodnight; they looked at me. Steve ignored an introduction. We had coffee to wait out the full-blast of the martinis, and then walked out to the parking lot in back. He gave the valet both our tickets and tipped him when the cars appeared idling behind us.

“You can have the Maui place. My plans changed, we’re going to Baja.”

“No thanks, I like Kauai better anyway.”

I made it home.

Karin came in for coffee the next morning. She was glad it hadn’t turned into the gruesome showdown she had envisioned. He wouldn’t do that in public anyway. We ran down to the studio and did our final mop up and check out on the project. It’s nice when it ends, but it’s also like getting a divorce. It leaves a hole.

Karin dropped me back home and I swam laps. I got out of the shower to a message from Mom. She wanted to talk about a dress for a New Year gala. I could remember her dressing for parties. My father always sat in one of their bedroom chairs, sipping a cocktail and watching her while they kidded back and forth. I reminded her to get some comfortable shoes so she could actually dance.

“Arthur will never replace your father.”

“Do you feel guilty about seeing Arthur? It’s been a long time.”

“He had an affair.”

“Arthur? I don’t think you can really consider it an affair so soon, Mom.”

“Your father. We had settled it between us a week before he crashed. I hadn’t really forgiven him though. And now I don’t know if I ever will.”

“It doesn’t matter to him.”

“It matters to me. I’ve been mad at him all these years.”

“That’s a heavy burden, Mom.”

“What if he was distracted about her?”

“Are you jealous that he might have been thinking about her when he crashed?”

“He felt he needed to get home, it was still so raw. I was still accusing him of seeing her, even though he said it was over. He was going to wait for daylight, but I told him I needed him to come home that night. He tried. He wanted to reassure me.”

“There’s no way you will ever know.”

“You don’t understand, Hannah.”

“I understand you can’t possibly know what he was thinking when he hit that mountain.”

“Except, Oh Jesus.”

“Atta girl, Mom. You should just enjoy Arthur. He’s standing right in front of you.”

“I didn’t expect love advice from my daughter.”

“It’s not love advice. I wouldn’t take love advice from me if I were you. Send pictures.”

What a reversal. I remember my mother as the towering woman, at least when she was sober, issuing edicts from atop her high heels, the force of her mother’s coal mine stories at her back. I was incredibly proud of myself for not stoking her fire with questions about my father’s affair. What the fuck? I speed dialed my brother.

“We had a great time with Steve.”

“I heard. We had dinner last night. When he wasn’t with you, he was doing, quote nothing, with a Jewish lawyer his parents fixed him up with.”

“Oh.”

“Did you know daddy had an affair?”

“Who told you?”

“Mom.”

“Was she slurring or had she hit maudlin?”

“She sounded cold sober. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It didn’t matter. I didn’t want to make him look bad.”

“It did matter, Eric. I’ve spent twenty years thinking he was a saint.”

“What difference does it make? He was a decent man.”

“It makes a big difference. I needed to know that.”

“I was seventeen.”

“You haven’t been seventeen for twenty years. Mom’s been mad at him for twenty years. She thinks he was distracted thinking about the other woman when he crashed.”

“Maybe he was. I didn’t know she was using that.”

“Well it’s really sad,” I said. “He was supposed to come home the next day, in daylight.”

“You knew that. She’s probably said it a million times.”

“But I didn’t know why. She blames herself.”

“She would have found something to drink about,” he said. “She was already drinking when he crashed. That may have been part of their problem.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Years later I ran into a bartender who knew him. He said Dad used to stop in for a drink. He told him he had a beautiful wife at home, but that he was lonely.”

“And you believe some bartender?” I asked.

“Yeah, I do, it was completely unsolicited. She was good at hiding it.”

“Does Binky know about the affair?”

“Christ no. If Binky knew, you’d know. She’d drive Ted insane.”

“He’s already insane, he lives with her.”

“It’s easier for him right now.”

“Anything else you’re holding out?”

“Not off the top of my head,” he said. “What happened with Stroud?”

“Oh fuck,” I told him the basics. I left out details like frequency and thong handcuffs; you never know how it’s going to blow with a brother.

“Sorry, Hannah, men are dicks.”

“One woman’s dick is another woman’s almost husband.”

“Yeah well, I’m your brother and he’s a dick. You need to knock off the men with two names.”

“At least neither one of them had a rap sheet. He said Mom packs a coochie and knows how to use it.”

He was quiet for a second. Uh oh. Then he burst out laughing. That’s what I mean about never knowing which way it’s going to blow.

“You’re such a man.”

He laughed harder and choked out, “Oh Jesus, I love that. I gotta go.”

I was smiling when I hung up. It’s always fun when he laughs; he sounds a lot like our father. I fixed toast and peanut butter, drank the last beer, and went to bed.

My heart hurt for my lonely father with his eyes locked on the deep space of his interior life, instead of scanning in ten second intervals like a careful pilot. He should have been looking for the future that was slipstreaming toward him over the nose of the plane.

I understood how he could have been lost in thought, perhaps longing, perhaps guilt, perhaps in despair, when the mountain came out of the darkness; a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Maybe if I’d been in the plane, chattering away as usual, he’d have seen it. He was always extra careful when I was in the plane with him. Maybe my mother wouldn’t have been worried about him being away overnight if I’d been with him. The things we can’t know.

Saturday night was our wrap party. I arrived late. Karin and Oscar were there, listening to the director regale everyone with character sketches from rehab, only in L.A. There were a few non-pros, significant others who were not in the business. Unless they had a spectacular job like rocket scientist or star hot yoga instructor, they were simply pitied. A truck driver would be pitied. Steve would have been bored silly. A half hour television flop isn’t his world. The evening was dragged down with false cheer. I left before dinner and was home by eight.

I was heating up soup when Steve called. “Where were you? I stopped by.”

“You need to call first.”

“I wanted to see you.”

“I was at the wrap funeral.”

“You free?”

“No. I need to go to bed, I’m completely worn out.”

“Trucker there?”

“He’s getting married.”

“I really don’t give a shit what he’s doing.”

“Have fun in Baja,” I hung up.

I hated that I had devolved into talking like a teenager. I’d never talked like that even when I was sixteen. Not that I’d had a chance. I always figured no one asked me out because my father was dead and my mother was drunk. Hesitant young boys don’t have experience with prisoners of war. It’s not a practice step you should skip. I’d run into plenty of old boys since then. They didn’t hesitate. I’d been unprepared.

As pissed as I was at Steve, I wasn’t feeling Swiss neutral about him in Baja drinking margaritas and dirty dancing to some funky gray beard ex-pat band playing “Hotel California.” Or about the image of tequila charged blowjobs on the outer fringe of bar light on the beach. That had been our scene when we were first getting to know each other. It’s where we met. Message delivered.

I decided to check again for a place on Kauai. Kismet. There was a small cottage on the beach in a residential neighborhood. It was a little pricey. The owner had just reposted it after the first people backed out. I gave her my credit card information. Then I booked a flight and reserved a car. My credit card whimpered. It’s hard to be a flailing bird in Hawaii. If nothing else, I’d just stay outside, avoid windows altogether.

I took the next morning to Christmas shop in Santa Monica. I was dead in debt, might as well be buried. I came home with bags, lit a fire, and turned on slack key Christmas music. I spent hours carefully wrapping gifts for Karin’s and my family. I love shopping for her kids. I got her sweet brainiac Richard the expanded Jurassic Era science kit. I used a sprig of dinosaur plant as his bow. He’d get it. He’d been studying an era a year; he was on Jurassic, a real crowd pleaser. Their daughter Callie was a total jock who wore nothing but pink. I bought her a pink mitt and a shirt from some over-priced sports designer that all the girls wanted but Karin wouldn’t buy.

I bought myself a black tee shirt with angel wings silk-screened in glittery silver ink on the back. It didn’t look like anything I’d wear.

I called Karin and invited her to our annual Christmas lunch, then kicked back for a few minutes and took in the view across my pool. I was going to miss waking up there, but I could feel myself detaching and moving toward India. I’m a chameleon when I travel, nine months could transform me into an Indian.

Steve called and broke my reverie.

“I’m done,” I said. “Todos completo.”

“That’s lousy Spanish.”

“It’s better than your Puerto Rican gibberish.”

“Let’s have dinner,” he said. “I don’t want to end in some bullshit fight. We were too good for that.”

He was going to Santa Fe for a few days so we made a plan for Friday night.

I had a haircut appointment with my favorite guy. They had an opening with a new nail person, and so I bought in for the whole ride. He cut my hair quite a bit shorter and chopped it up to give it some edge, and then added chunky highlights. It would be easy in Hawaii; it looked like I’d just gotten caught in an especially rough wave. I could probably cut it that way myself in India.