Tangled Up in Daydreams (16 page)

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Molly, you're an amazing lady who's doing amazing things that people are going to love. I think your work has more direction and originality in it than you think, at least what you have shown me. Maybe you just haven't found your medium, but you definitely will and you will start feeling all of that goodness soon.”

“Thanks. I'm sorry I'm such a drama queen.” Reaching for his hand. “I promise that I will try to snap out of this.”

“Good.” Squeezing three times.

“I can't believe I thought you got it on with Anita! I just for the last few months had nightmares about girls in tight shirts slithering about your hotel room.”

“Well, there was that one …” Winking at her.

“Really?”

“You're just going to have to trust me.” Laughing.

“Was she really hot at least?” Eating the rest of her now cold omelet.

“I think she may have been a bunny of some kind.” Eating his bacon. “Her chest was like …” Holding his hands way in front of his chest.

“Okay, okay, enough.” Molly laughed.

“Look, I love you pretty much more than anything ever, I am committed to you, and that is a promise I take seriously. I will keep my promises.”

“I just think I love you too much sometimes, and that scares me.”

“And I don't think there is ever too much of anything.” Pulling her toward him. “I am not going to let you down.”

He kissed her, and it was earnest and true like a school morality lesson. She swallowed and believed.

Molly placed the photo of her family and Liam on the bed. She leaned back against her pillows and took a deep breath. She gave herself to the relationship on that trip, and she let go of her insecurities the best she could. Yes, they had already been together for a while at that point, but every relationship has moments where things morph and are altered into something new. There are milestones at every turn. The month, the three month, the meet the parents, the first holiday together, the first trip, ­etc., ­etc. The list goes on and on. Some days you wake up, look at the person next to you, and think, “If I hear him snore one more time, I will become Lizzie Borden.” Sometimes you watch him scratch his nose and think, “I will kiss every freckle tonight three times.” On that trip, Molly chose to believe and trust in Liam, and really to trust and believe that she was good enough, good enough for him, good enough for herself. She knew if she walked around wrapped in a shawl of doubt, she would succeed in pushing him away. Something of a self-fulfilling prophecy. She decided to let herself really go and allow this man to catch her. Where were his arms now? She had jumped, headfirst, and he had picked at the loose thread and unraveled the refashioned safety net beneath her.

“Molly!” a voice bellowed from below.

Molly got up and walked to the door.

“Yeah?”

“Renee is on the phone for you,” Helen called.

“Thanks.”

Molly went back into her room and picked up the phone.

“Hey, Renee.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay, still have a headache though. Remind me not to get into a shot contest with your husband.”

“He's asleep on the couch right now, snoring.”

“I think I can hear him through the line.” Snickering.

“In the mood for a movie?”

“That sounds great.”

“I'll pick you up in an hour.”

“Great.”

Molly hung up the phone and threw herself back on the bed. Unfortunately, she knocked the frame onto the floor and the glass shattered.

“Shit.” Getting up.

Molly leaned down and gingerly picked up the glass shards. She tossed the broken pieces of the frame in the garbage can under her desk. The picture she folded and slipped under her pillow.

A
t the beginning of the next week, a package arrived for Molly from LA. It was sitting on the kitchen table when she returned from a morning yoga class. She recognized the loopy scrawl and picked the box up on the way to her room for a shower. Jay had drawn silly little butterflies and flowers all over the brown cardboard. Bursting petals and flush wings ringed the box in the vivid purple of a summer day. Purple. It meant passion. Sex toys, Harlequin novels, and eggplant. All very ripe and fertile creations. Then again, purple also was the color of fresh bruises. Dark, deep, ringed with pain. Today, everything about Molly felt swollen. Her skin had a slight itch and swell, tender yet alive with feeling.

She placed the box on her bed and went to her desk to find a pair of scissors. She carefully slit the sides and opened it. Inside were her tools and boxes of beads as well as a velvet case of finished pieces. There was a large manila envelope sitting underneath everything. Molly unfolded the letter.

Mol—

Hope I didn't forget anything. If I did, just give a ring and will get whatever. Well, give a ring anyway, just to check in. Hope you are doing better. When are you coming home? I'm here if you need me and I'm really sorry you have to deal with all this. I love you.

—Jay

P.S
. On a totally separate note, I saw this great little retail space on Third that the present renters are leaving at the end of next month. It may be perfect. Should I check it out?

Molly had forgotten all about her new big plan. She was so wrapped up in all the chaos that her sights had somewhat clouded over. She folded the letter and placed it on her bed. Then she opened the velvet box. There were five necklaces and three pairs of earrings. Some silver, some gold, with precious and semi-precious stones. The jewelry findings all were delicately carved with various floral motifs, and each piece looked like it had been born in a French garden circa 1600. Molly had designed and cast everything herself, and she also had dulled various parts of the metal to make it look antique. Molly wanted her pieces to be like small treasures from a different time. With bits of lace, ribbon, buttons, or other small charms, she fashioned one-of-a-kind objects of art. Each piece had something truly old incorporated in it, maybe a locket or a dollhouse-sized spoon. Some gems were mismatched, some edges were frayed instead of tightly faceted. Everything looked new but had the weight of history tied up in its cords.

The idea for the collection—or really the theme for all her work—came to her at the end of last summer when Liam and she had gotten back from their post-tour road trip and decided to move in together. The moving in thing had been Liam's idea and Molly hadn't remotely seen it coming. Even after Molly's minor flip-out at the diner—the rest of their time together had been amazing—she wasn't thinking about taking such a new leap. For her, spending all those weeks of concentrated time nurturing their relationship, indulging each other, and reconnecting was enough.

They pulled into Molly's apartment complex driveway and Molly hopped out of the car to begin unloading her stuff.

“Babe, this may take a while.” Eyeing the trunk. “Everything has exploded and intermingled.” She tried to see where to begin.

“Let's just leave it like that.” Liam joined her by the trunk.

“What do you mean?” Trying to pull out her black Kate Spade travel bag. “We can't just leave all this stuff in the car.”

“No, I mean, let's just leave it intermingled. Let's leave it all together.”

“Are you planning on living out of my trunk?” She laughed at him.

“No, but we should plan on living out of our place.”

Molly stopped pulling at bags and looked at her boyfriend. She stared at him carefully to see if she could figure out what the heck he was implying.

“Our place?” she repeated.

“Yes. I think we should find a place together. No more separate apartments, no more ‘Your bed, my bed, where should we sleep tonight?' conversations.”

“You want us to move in together? Really?”

“Really. I love you and the fact that we didn't take steak knives to each other or leave each other in the middle of the highway after spending so much time together in a confined space proves we are ready for this.”

“Okay.” Surprising herself with the lack of hesitation.

“Okay? That easy?”

“Yup. I think so.” Kissing him.

“Thought I would have to do a little more dancing to convince you.”

“Maybe if you had asked tomorrow or yesterday I would have hedged, but fuck it.” Shrugging her shoulders. “Can't always be so cautious, sometimes maybe it's about jumping in.”

“That's my girl!” Kissing her again. “Molly, this is going to be great.”

“It will.” Hugging him. “But only if we keep my bed, yours is really uncomfortable.”

“It is not!”

“Baby, when did you buy that bed?”

“When I moved here, it's practically new.”

“Almost ten years new! My bed or the highway.” Laughing at him.

“Fine. You drive a hard bargain, missy.” Kissing her back.

They stood by the open trunk making out like hormonal teenagers for what seemed like forever. It wasn't until a neighbor honked that they separated.

“We still have to unload the car.” Molly giggled.

“Let's just do it later. I have a better idea of how we can spend our time.” Hopping back into the car and pulling it into Molly's spot.

A few days later, they found their three-bedroom, two-bath apartment on Sycamore. When Molly unpacked all her boxes, some of which had not been opened in years, she found an old music box of hers from when she was five. Inside were old velvet ribbons, a tiny ballerina charm made out of copper, a pendant of ballet shoes, a picture of her and Helen, a dried rose from her first recital, and five loose ruby-red shiny crystal beads. It was an artifact from a special, more innocent time. Molly wanted some of that innocence with her and decided to try and incorporate the contents into a necklace. She knit the ribbons together to make them stronger, slipped on the pendant and charm, glued the rose petals onto the photo that she had mounted on a piece of leather, and tied the beads all about. Although it was crude, every time she felt the weight of the totem on the pool of her throat she felt more connected to the girl she had been and the woman she was becoming. It was a moment of clarity, for she could finally articulate what she wanted her art to say. This was the feeling she wanted to capture. Something beautiful and new but completely tinged with the memories and comfort of the past. She wanted to infuse her work with the joy and determination a little girl has when she takes the time to create a little memory box, fill it with hair from her first short haircut, a card from the tooth fairy, or maybe even a jack she got with her dad from that penny candy reward game in a Reno diner. Her work was driven by the need to not forget the past but to bring it forward and make it part of the present and future. She had never before considered that her means toward personal expression would take root in making jewelry, but somehow it just made sense. It was small, easy, related to fashion, and had a short distance between conception and completion.

The first few necklaces she made weren't perfect. She collected odds and ends from friends and worked hard to figure out how to unite the disparate materials. The more she made, the more refined and precious the finished products became. She took basic jewelry casting at a UCLA extension class, and, coupled with her art school background, was soon creating her own charms and findings to mix in with what she found. Jay utilized her first-year business school knowledge to help her incorporate, name, and brand her business. Molly chose Annabelle as the name for her line. It was old-fashioned, feminine, catchy, and happened to be her middle name. Henry helped her legalize everything and she was on her way. Everyone, even Liam, offered their expertise to get her up and running. He had helped her make her first “stranger” sale. He had been conveniently working on a few new demos with a producer who also happened to be working with a young songstress on her second album. Liam flirted and wooed, did a number on her, and soon Molly's creations were gracing the songbird's neck on the cover of
Rolling Stone
. He used all his connections to maintain Molly's momentum. He also helped organize her first big sale/show in the garden of his friend Elliot's restaurant. Molly remembered that afternoon well. Again, another series of swooping highs and mind-numbing lows.

Molly worked for a solid month beforehand getting things ready. She wanted everything to be perfect since this would be her first chance to get the kind of major exposure that could fully launch her career as a jewelry designer. Every piece slaved over, every display agonized over. Liam and she ran around town collecting stools, tables, fabric, mannequins, and various sizes of trunks to create the space. Molly wanted people to imagine that they were walking into a large-scale music box. They had an old tailor's mannequin dressed up in a pink tutu and pink toe shoes that they rigged to spin like a dancer, and mirrors everywhere to reflect the gems of her pieces like prisms. With the roses in bloom and champagne for everyone, it was going to be a fabulous event. Sure, it cost Molly an arm and leg to buy all this stuff, but it would hopefully pay off tenfold.