Secrets of My Hollywood Life: There’s No Place Like Home (22 page)

Nadine looks ready to bolt already. “Where did I live?”

I know the answer to this one. “In Northampton, 1918 Park Drive West.”

“What’s your name?” Nadine asks, still looking unsure.

“Kaitlin Burke. We lived around the block from you, remember?” I’m sweating I’m so nervous.

“You’re lying,” Nadine says and takes a bite of a cookie. “There was a library around the block from me.” She starts getting
up, and I know I’m losing her. I don’t have a choice. I have to tell the truth, the whole crazy truth and nothing but the
truth.

“I need your help,” I say and Nadine turns around. “I traveled three thousand miles to find you, and my friend Liz paid for
the tickets. Can you please just give me ten minutes?”

“She really doesn’t know you?” Liz asks incredulously. “Then how do you know her?”

“Yeah, how do you know who I am?” Nadine crosses her arms.

“I know everything about you,” I explain. “I know you make judgments about people in the first five minutes, so you already
don’t trust me, but sometimes your judgments are wrong. Remember Carol Barker? You thought she was going to give you an F
on your tenth-grade science project because she looked at you funny, but then you found out she had a corn dog for lunch and
her stomach was acting up.”

Nadine’s jaw drops. “How do you know that?”

“Yeah, how
do
you know that?” Liz wants to know.

“Because I know you,” I say softly. “Not here, not now, but I know
you
. We work together, actually.”

After I give Liz strict instructions not to interrupt even if she thinks I need a one-way ticket to crazy town, Nadine lets
me talk. And talk. I talk for her full break, telling her everything about the accident, my family, my friends, Austin, Sky,
Family Affair
, what’s changed for the better, and what’s worse. I pepper the conversation with anecdotes about Nadine herself—advice she’s
given me over the years, what she’s told me about her life, why she became my personal assistant, and finally, why she left.

“I quit?” Nadine looks astonished. I’m not sure whether she believes me or just thinks this is a good story, but I keep answering
her questions. Liz thinks I’m nuts, I can tell, but I keep talking.

“You realized that you wanted more,” I explain and hold one of my crutches in my hand for support, in more ways than one.
“You were beyond picking up dry cleaning, going to Crumbs bakery for my cupcake fix, and doing my schedule. Even I knew that.
I just loved you too much to let you go. You’re opening your own celebrity management company, and your first client is Sky
Mackenzie.”

Liz and Nadine chuckle to each other.

“That train wreck?” Liz says.

“I can’t stand that girl,” Nadine agrees and takes another sip of her coffee.

“She’s not like that there,” I insist. “Sky’s got it together. We’re friends, actually. Good friends,” I add. “And she’s your
first client.”

“Why would I want to work with celebrities?” Nadine sounds flip, which she is SO not. “You couldn’t pay me to live in Los
Angeles. It’s so plastic, and I hate tabloids and those TMZ people.”

“You do hate those things!”
Though you have gotten over it somewhat
, but I don’t add that. “You were making money to go to Harvard,” I explain. “You knew you could make the money fast if you
came to L.A. You had a friend who did the same thing. Caroline,” I remember, and Nadine’s eyebrows rise ever so slightly.
“She did well as an assistant, so you decided to go out for a few years, make money, and then go back to business school.”

Nadine stands up and picks up her coffee. “I can’t listen to any more of this. Your story is compelling, I give you that.
And you sound like you know what you’re talking about, but this is crazy! People don’t time travel or dream travel or whatever
you think you’ve done.” She waves her hands, and her coffee begins to slosh over the sides of the paper cup. “I would never
move to Los Angeles.
Ever
. And fetch someone’s dry cleaning? I don’t think so. You have the wrong girl, and I don’t think you’re going to find the
right one.” She looks at Liz. “You need to take her to a doctor. She needs help.”

Nadine starts to walk away, and Liz grabs my hand. “I think she’s right, Kaitlin. I’m going to call your parents, and we’ll
get you home,” she says soothingly. She looks a little frightened, actually. “Your story was incredible—so detailed—but it’s not real. Maybe that accident caused more trauma than anyone realized.”

Liz calling my parents, Nadine walking away from me? No, no, no. This is all wrong. I need Nadine! She can help me, I know
it.

“Mark Howards!” I yell.

Nadine stops but doesn’t turn around.

“You moved because of Mark Howards.” I lower my voice. “He was your first love. He was going to go to Harvard with you. He
had the money to go and you didn’t. He said he’d wait a year and then reapply again with you, but he lied. He went without
you, and you didn’t forgive him. You broke up. He came out to Los Angeles to apologize once, but you wouldn’t see him and
you haven’t dated anyone seriously since. You always said he was your one big regret.”

Nadine stares at me. “Mark and I broke up last year.”

“He didn’t go to Harvard with you?” Liz asks, intrigued.

Nadine’s smile is sort of sad. “He did go. We both did, and then we broke up anyway. He transferred and I’m still here.” She
looks around and sighs. “Making life plans with a guy instead of making life plans for yourself is a big mistake. So was coming
here,” she adds and walks back over.

“But it’s all you ever talk about!” I tell her. “‘When I go to Harvard,’ ‘this would never happen at Harvard,’ ‘I’m too smart
to hear you say something that dumb, Kaitlin.’”

Nadine laughs. “I would say those things.” She looks at me wistfully. “But if I could talk to your Nadine—
if
one actually exists—I would tell her that business school isn’t what I thought it would be. Neither is politics.” She scrunches
her nose like she just sniffed expired milk. “I worked on a local campaign last year and hated it.” She shrugs and runs a
hand through her short red hair. “But I can’t not see school through to the end. It has cost my family too much. Even if I’m
not happy. Not that I know what would make me happy, except…” She looks at me. “Your Nadine sounds content in a way I’ve never
been living here. Maybe not getting what she wanted gave her everything she wanted after all.”

“Give me a second. I’m trying to follow that sentence.” Liz looks like she’s concentrating hard, and Nadine and I laugh.

Nadine takes my hand. “Kaitlin Burke, I think you’re crazy, but maybe it’s time for me to do something crazy for once.” She
gives me a look. “You may not be an actress, but you definitely have charisma. At the very least, you’ll keep me entertained
while we’re at this.”

“You’ll help me?” I can’t believe it. I really can’t believe it!

Nadine smiles. “Yes. Let’s get you back to your Hollywood life.”

I soon find out saying you want to go home and doing it are two very different things. It’s not as easy as when Dorothy dropped
back in to Kansas (aka woke up). I can’t click my heels three times and get there. I did try zipping and unzipping my ruby
red bag three times and saying “There’s no place like home,” just to be on the safe side, but of course, nothing happened.

It takes the three of us hours before we come up with a scenario that could work. And it has to work, because we’re running
out of time. Liz’s dad traced her credit card yesterday, left her an irate voicemail, and told her that he and my parents
are on the next flight to Boston to get us.

I have six hours to figure this out, or I’m never getting home.

Liz thinks I’m certifiable, but she also thinks my story would make a fabulous screenplay. (“I think I could be a director!”
she says. How ironic.) So she’s sticking around. She also says that friends help friends even if they think they’ve escaped
from the mother ship. Nice.

We’ve already tried a few things. Nadine dragged me to a palm reader, but she didn’t say boo about my other life. All she
said was, “If you keep to the map of the life you want to lead, rather than the path others want you to, you’ll have a long
and prosperous life.” Good advice, but I need to get my life back first.

We also tried a psychic and a medium. “Why would we need a medium?” Liz asked. “She’s not dead!” Nadine made a face that freaked
me out—making me think she did think I was dead—but the medium, thank God, reached only my grandmother, who said hi and to
tell my mom to “take a chill pill and stop being obsessed with the Beckhams.” At least the medium had a sense of my alternate
reality! The psychic got nowhere. Like I care how many kids I’m going to have. I’m only eighteen! I think both Liz and Nadine
are having less and less faith in me as the hours go on.

Now we’re on our way to Gail Harding, a renowned hypnotist, who Nadine says spoke at one of her psychology classes at Harvard.
She agreed to meet with me after-hours tonight, but that could be because Nadine didn’t tell her the whole story. If Gail
knew I thought I was from another dimension, she probably would have slammed the phone down and changed her mailing address.

“If anyone can figure out what’s going on with you, it is Gail,” Nadine explains, pulling her plaid scarf tighter to fight
the wind. It’s blustery here today—the forecast on TV this morning said a nor’easter blew in out of nowhere—and Boston is
expecting high winds and rain/snow. “I watched her cure my psych professor’s smoking addiction in just one session, in front
of our entire seminar! She put him to sleep, made him say a few words, and poof ! He woke up cured. He’s never wanted to smoke
another pack again. The smell of smoke makes him sick.”

“But we’re not trying to cure Kaitlin of anything, except maybe being crazy.” Liz keeps in stride with Nadine. She has on
her North Face parka, skinny jeans, her Burberry rain boots, and a heavy red sweater. I have on the green baby-doll sweater
I wore yesterday with my unwashed skinny jeans and my wellies. Liz wanted to go shopping yesterday, but she joked she wouldn’t
be able to lug all the new clothes back on the plane herself when I vanished into thin air after tonight’s session.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

“How will falling asleep help Kaitlin get home?” Liz asks.

“I don’t know,” Nadine says thoughtfully. “I still don’t know if I believe any of this! I don’t know the first thing about
dimensional travel, but I do know about hypnosis and it can help in a lot of areas—getting over irrational fears, smoking
addictions, weight loss. Maybe she can restart Kaitlin’s brain in the right reality, whatever that is.”

“She’ll put me to sleep and then what?” I ask nervously. “I fall asleep every night, and I wake up the next morning and I’m
still here. How will this time be different?”

“I don’t know.” Nadine sounds exasperated and stops walking. “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated. I can’t stand not fixing things
on the first try.”

I know.

“I don’t know how to help you,” she continues and starts biting one of her nails. “All I know is the more time I spend with
you and the more I hear about this other life you claim to have, the more fabulous it sounds and the more miserable I feel.”
Nadine looks at her boots. “What if we actually succeed in this crazy scheme of yours, get you back there, and Liz and I are
stuck here, with the lesser versions of the lives you say we lead?”

“I didn’t think of that.” Liz looks gloomy too.

I take both of their hands and use them to steady myself as another huge gust of wind threatens to blow my crutches out from
under me. “If I get back, then you get back too. I don’t know what happens to here. All I know is that there, in Hollywood,
we’re all pretty happy.”

That seems to appease Nadine because she starts walking and talking again, about things like her favorite restaurants in town
(On The Border, this excellent Mexican place) and the Harvard bookstore. Before we know it, we’re knocking on Gail’s office
door, she’s inviting us in, and she’s asking us to explain everything. When I’m finished, I get the same reaction I did from
Nadine the first time. Silence. At least Gail was scribbling in a notebook the whole time. The sound of her pencil tapping
across the binder is the only sound in the room. It’s sort of grating, and it keeps getting louder. Come to think of it, that
binder looks awfully familiar.…

Hey, isn’t that Nadine’s bible? That’s where she keeps all of the info about my life. I’d recognize it anywhere—there are
stickers on the back of Nadine’s favorite bands, and a picture of Tahiti, where Nadine wants to go.

“Where did you get that binder?” I break the silence. “That’s Nadine’s. Well, my Nadine’s.” Alter-Nadine is looking at me
strangely. “The picture of Tahiti, the band bumper stickers. That’s the binder my Nadine keeps all my stuff in.”

“Kaitlin, what are you talking about?” Liz talks to me like I’m two. “This binder has nothing on it. It’s a dull navy blue.
No offense.”

Gail holds it up for me to see and Liz is right. It’s blank. But it wasn’t a minute ago. I’m sure of it. And there’s that
tapping again! It’s so irritating. But Gail isn’t tapping her pen. Liz and Nadine aren’t doing anything either. What is going
on?

“I know her story sounds crazy,” Nadine says hastily, “but I figured if anyone would know how to help her, it would be you.
I’ve read your papers on hypnosis, and the power of the mind is huge.”

“That is true,” Gail says with a soft smile. She’s older than my mom by at least a decade, and she looks more like a grandma
than a doctor. She’s got short, salt-and-pepper hair and kind blue eyes, and she’s wearing a tweed suit. “The mind has a funny
way of revealing itself sometimes. In Kaitlin’s case, it appears to have been teaching her a valuable lesson about love and
loss.” She looks at me kindly. “I wish I could help you—and maybe I can, but not now. I don’t think you’re ready.”

Liz’s phone starts to vibrate. “Geez, did their plane land already?” She looks at me. “It’s my dad. I’ll let it go to voicemail.”

“I am ready,” I insist to Gail. “I want to go home.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not sure that’s the answer. You have to figure out what you really want first.”

“I know what I want.” I’m growing aggravated. “I want to go home. I want my life back.”

“You keep saying that, but I’m not sure you mean it.” Gail looks at her notes. “In my opinion, if wishing you were back home
and wanting it were the only things you needed to do, you would already be home. Something is holding you here. Even if I
put you under, I fear it wouldn’t work.”

“So you believe her?” Liz sounds surprised.

“It’s not a question of what I believe. It’s a question of what Kaitlin believes.” Gail looks at me. “If Kaitlin believes
she’s meant to be somewhere else and she’s stuck here, then I want to address that first.”

HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER SEVENTEEN: It’s amazing it’s taken me this long to see a therapist. In Hollywood, everyone I know
goes to therapy; belongs to a church, synagogue, or Scientology center; or sees a life coach, does yoga therapy, or visits
an ashram before he or she reaches puberty. Remember those Kabbalah bracelets everyone in southern Cali was sporting a few
years back? I do. Every costar I knew wore one. In Hollywood, we’re always looking for the next big thing that will help us
feel fulfilled. As actors, we’re always trying to be someone else. Things like therapy help us learn how to be ourselves.
Sometimes.

Gail looks at me kindly. “What’s holding you back, Kaitlin?”

“I don’t know.” I feel impatient now. Gail obviously thinks she can help me, but she won’t. “If I knew I wouldn’t be here,
would I?”

“Maybe you would, and maybe you wouldn’t.” Gail begins tapping her pen again. The sound is beeping in my ear. Or maybe that’s
my cell phone. I don’t remember putting it on.

“My phone is ringing too,” Liz says and looks at the screen. “It’s Austin. Do you want to talk to him?”

Yes, no. I don’t know! I’m so confused. I cover my ears to block out the noise. It’s getting louder.

“Hey, A. Yeah, I’m right next to her,” I hear Liz say. “She’s not talking yet. We’ve tried everything.”

What does that mean?

“Kaitlin,” Gail tries again, and I can hear the wind outside howl like a wolf. “As much as you want to go home, I think a
part of you wants to stay here. Why?”

“I don’t know!” I yell.

“They don’t know why she’s like this. She should be up by now,” Liz says into the phone.

“I am up!” I tell Liz and she jumps. “What are you talking about?”

“What are
you
talking about?” Liz asks. “My dad is beeping in again. Kates, knowing him, he’s got some newfangled satellite tracking on
me and he’ll be here any minute. You better figure out how to get home fast.”

“I’m trying!” I freak out. I want to cry. My head is spinning. Things are spiraling out of control. I hate when this happens!
I hate when life gets this overwhelming and I feel like I’m drowning and I’ll never be in control again.

“Kaitlin, think about your life.” I hear Nadine’s voice. “You say you adore it. You love being an actress, you love your new
TV show, you love your friends, your boyfriend, even Sky Mackenzie. But you also said you wish you could split yourself in
two, right?”

I thumb the leather on the chair I’m sitting on. “Sort of. ”

Nadine leans forward excitedly, happy to be on to something. “I think if you could, you’d want two lives—one that involves
acting and one that lets you live away from the cameras like you do here. Am I right?”

I don’t say anything. I just stare at Gail’s diploma on the wall. Huh, she went to Cedars-Sinai? I didn’t know that was a
medical school and a hospital. “I don’t know about wanting two lives. I just want balance,” I say unconvincingly.

“Talk to her.” I hear Liz again. “Tell her it’s okay. Tell her you’re okay.” But Liz is not on the phone. What is going on
here?

“Now we’re getting somewhere. What parts of this life would you take with you, if you could?” Gail asks me.

I blink back tears. “I like my parents,” I croak. “I like our peaceful house. There aren’t BlackBerries going off at all hours
of the night, or powwows with agents and publicists at eleven PM when I want to go to bed. My mom is sane and in my world…”
I trail off. “She’s not. She thinks if she’s not managing me then my whole career will fall apart, but…”

“But?” Gail leans forward, still scribbling.

“But I’m not sure.” I look at Nadine again. “Sometimes when it’s just you and me, I feel like I can do anything. I feel like
I’m old enough to make the right decisions. I’m not saying I won’t run them by her, but there is so much I would or wouldn’t
do if she let me have a say. Mom gets me so nuts sometimes that I just want to run away! That’s how I wound up at Clark Hall
the first time. I was so overwhelmed by the paparazzi, the tabloids, and my mom that I wanted to disappear.”

“Disappear,” Nadine repeats. “Kind of like what you’re doing right now.”

“But this is different,” I disagree. “I don’t want to be here.”

“Maybe you
do
want to be here,” Gail interrupts. “Maybe you don’t want to face the future. Maybe what’s really holding you back is
you
.”

I never thought of it that way before. “So what do I do?”

Gail touches my hand. “You learn to relax. Wanting more than a career comes naturally to you, but maybe it doesn’t for your
parents. Sometimes you have to teach people new tricks, Kaitlin. Show them there are more ways to do things than the way they’ve
always done them. It’s not easy, but it can be done.”

“I’ve always thought the solution to my problems was keeping a clear line between my work and my home life, but maybe I’ve
been looking at it all wrong.” I look to Nadine for reinforcement. “Maybe what I should have done was figure out a way to
make my two worlds coexist peacefully.”

I think about that for what feels like hours, even though it’s probably minutes. What would it take to live in my world happily?
It’s like the essay question: “Have you changed your life, or has your life changed you?” Maybe Gail’s right: I’m here because
my life has changed me up until now. Maybe it’s time I change it instead. “I think I know how to make things work,” I say
finally.

“Talk to her. Tell her you love her!” Liz says again.

“She doesn’t hear me, does she?”

Is that Austin? It can’t be Austin.

“Kaitlin, I won’t leave you, okay?”

“Nadine, did you just say something?” She shakes her head, and I hear that annoying beeping again.

“Kaitlin, if you really have an answer, this will work.” Gail reclines the leather armchair I’m sitting on. It’s next to the
windows, and I can hear the wind rattling the frames. I try to relax, but I feel like things are poking me. “Close your eyes
and listen to my voice.” I scratch at my forearms, trying to get rid of whatever’s pulling at me there, but I don’t find anything.