Chapter 48 Lee
Lee
Charlotte took charge. She drove the girls to school, shopped in the local markets, made scrumptious dinners, and cleaned the kitchen.
Lee’s job was not killing herself and taking out the trash.
As Lee pushed open the door, garbage in hand, the big Samoyed stray dog would appear from behind a hedge, looking away from Lee as if to convey indifference.
Lee decided to name the dog Yassus, then bought a bag of dog food, bowl, and sealed container to keep in the vestibule of Regan’s building.
Every morning and evening, Lee left food for Yassus, who waited for Lee to avert her gaze, then lunged at the bowl.
She appreciated the dog’s desire to feign nonchalance.
No one talked about Regan.
Flora found a way to get Charlotte’s beloved New York Times delivered and Charlotte completed the morning crossword, asking for everyone’s help when needed.
Flora called for takeout when her grandmother wanted “to put her feet up.” Even the Greek deli owner knew their usual now—spanakopita for Charlotte, moussaka for Lee, vegetarian dolmades for the girls.
“Same as always?” he’d ask, and Lee would nod, surprised they had an “always.” Three generations of women existing in a bubble—it couldn’t go on, and yet it did: dinners and dishes and finishing bottle after bottle of wine and taking out the trash, Lee feeling a rare flash of joy when Yassus appeared for his supper.
After many, many calls, Lee located an English-speaking doctor who could see her on short notice.
She booked his first-available appointment, vowing to return her agent’s many messages as soon as she was properly medicated.
Lee’s meeting with the doctor was short and sweet; he called her prescriptions in to a pharmacy that would have them ready the following morning.
After seeing the psychiatrist, Lee offered to gather the girls at their posh school, the afternoon sun low in the sky. While both girls were comfortable taking the metro, they preferred an air-conditioned ride—when Lee texted to ask if they’d like a pickup, Flora sent a thumbs-up emoji.
Lee eased her rental car through the ornate wrought-iron gates, a crushed gravel driveway crunching beneath her tires as the imposing main building came into full view—a weathered limestone facade with classical columns and ivy climbing up the walls.
A central clock tower dominated the symmetrical wings, and immaculate stonework was adorned with crests and decorative friezes.
If the founders of the American School of Athens had meant to create a campus that evoked a New England boarding school—or Harvard—they had succeeded.
Lee entered a long line of cars piloted by well-coiffed women. On the radio, she found her anthem: “Girls Just Want to Have Fun,” by Cyndi Lauper. She rolled down the window to sing along: Phone rings, in the middle of the night, my faaaa-ther yells, “what you going to do with your life?”
Flora stood alone in front of the school, somber in her uniform. Lee waved as she pulled up. Flora climbed in. “Where’s Isabelle?” said Lee.
“I don’t know,” said Flora. Lee turned right out of the school driveway, accelerating maybe too fast but not so fast that she deserved the crossing guard’s glare and whistle. “Fuck off!” Lee yelled at the crossing guard, feeling feisty.
Flora’s brow furrowed.
“Should I wait for Isabelle?” said Lee. “Well, never mind, too late! You snooze, you lose. Am I right, Flora?” Lee’s heart seemed to be racing, and she felt very glad all of a sudden—glad to be in Athens, glad to be the sort of person who picked up her sweet, sorrowful niece from school.
“I miss Mom,” said Flora.
Lee’s phone rang: Francine. “Sorry, sweetheart,” said Lee. “I’ve been avoiding my agent—this will be quick.” She put the phone on speaker. “Hi, Francine,” she said.
“Lee,” said Francine. “Why haven’t you called me back? I’ve been trying and trying! You’re still trending. You in that nightgown, you’re everywhere—TikTok, TMZ, gossip mags…and wait until you hear this, Lee! Are you ready, Lee? Are you ready?”
In the rearview mirror, Flora seemed forlorn, looking out of the window at the gridlocked Athens traffic. She turned to face Lee. “Auntie Lee?” she said.
“One second, Flora.”
“Are you ready?” cried Francine.
“I am ready,” said Lee.
“Lee Perkins, I’ve had a call from Ben Morris. BEN MORRIS! He wants you to read for his new film! This is the role of a lifetime, Lee!”
“Wait, opposite Jason?”
“Yes! Jason is confirmed for Lord Byron and they want you to read for Lady Caroline Lamb, his wild and wacky lover or something. I’ll set the call. OK?”
Lee was filled with euphoria. At last! Lee knew she’d eventually be seen for the generational talent she was…
and now it was actually happening. But she wanted to hide her joy from sad little Flora—it was inappropriate to feel proud and thrilled while Regan was still missing.
“Francine…” said Lee, eyeing her niece in the back seat.
“I know, I know, the timing is appalling! But I’ll set the call, Lee. You have to take this call. You have to! And, oh, sorry—are you OK? Any word on your sister?”
“No,” said Lee. “No word.”
“Christ. And how are you…mentally?”
“Everything’s under control.”
“I’m glad. I’m very glad, honey. Ben said the photos are exactly what he’s been looking for. Raw. Real. ‘Authentic trauma,’ he called it—he says you’re perfect for Lady Caroline—‘a gorgeous woman, unraveling in public, beautiful in her destruction.’ His exact words, Lee!”
“Wow,” said Lee, her good mood making it easier than usual to ignore the fact that yet another man in Hollywood thought Lee’s breakdown was more interesting than her acting abilities.
“Ciao bella! Or should I say…what the hell do the Greeks say for adios?”
“Antío,” muttered Flora.
“They say ‘an-dee-oh,’ ” said Lee.
“Well, whatever,” said Francine, ending the call.
“An-dee-oh,” repeated Lee, dreamily.
Flora was still glaring at her. Lee wrenched her gaze from the rearview mirror.
Her niece was needing something, asking for something, and Lee was—like all the other adults in Flora’s life—letting her down.
“Flora,” said Lee, her buoyant frame of mind startlingly unaffected by Flora’s misery. “Did you hear what Francine said?”
“Yeah, I heard,” scoffed Flora, looking at her hands.
Lee swerved and zipped through Athens traffic as if she were being guided. Lee was going to pull this off—all of it! She was meant to be famous again. She would win an Academy Award! And she would find Regan. “Obviously, I’m not going anywhere until we find your mom,” noted Lee.
“Sure,” muttered Flora.
Lee literally couldn’t bear to look at her niece. She had left her little brother and sister in Savannah to become famous, and she was going to leave this girl, too. But what else was she supposed to do?
Lee parked in Regan’s driveway. Inside, she paced the length of the apartment and then went into the cramped kitchen and pushed the button to raise the metal shades.
She found a very small apple and sliced it into perfect, symmetrical wedges.
She spooned some grainy Greek peanut butter onto the plate and drizzled it with honey, then brought the plate to her niece.
Flora looked up from her computer. She had changed from her uniform into shorts and the faded pink T-shirt. “What is this?” she said.
“An after-school snack,” said Lee brightly. Lee perched on Flora’s bed. She took an apple slice and munched. “I’m calling Markos every day,” she said. “He’s committed to finding your mom, Flora, and I am too.”
Flora’s fingers paused on her keyboard. She turned slowly, something hard in her expression. “Really?” She gestured to her screen. “Then what’s this?”
Lee stood and crossed to look at the computer, where she saw a photo of herself and Markos, walking in Anafiotika. The gossip website or whatever it was had made a video close-up of Lee’s hand holding Markos’s hand. The headline read:
MY BIG FAT GREEK POLICE OFFICER!
Lee Perkins’s Mystery Lover REVEALED: He’s a COP!
“Oh no,” said Lee.
“Why would you get involved with the man trying to find Mom?” said Flora. “It’s just like Mom always said—you only care about yourself!”
The words hit Lee like a slap, though the accusation was one Regan had lobbed at her countless times…
during late-night phone calls when Regan caught her not really listening (she was scrolling Instagram); when Lee had cut visits home short for auditions; the day, long ago, when Lee had ditched her younger siblings to escape to California.
“Flora, no,” said Lee. But even as she denied it, she wondered: Was she here to save Regan, or to play the role of saving Regan?
“Can you please get out of my room?” said Flora.
“Wait,” said Lee. Her mind spun.
“GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” yelled Flora.
“I need my medication refills,” said Lee.
“Then get your refills!” said Flora. “You’re an adult!” She wheeled her chair back around to her computer, using the back of her hand to wipe tears from her cheeks.
You hurt everyone you love, said Depression.
The front door of the apartment banged open. “Yoo-hoo!” called Charlotte.
Flora stood and ran away from Lee, to her grandmother.