Chapter 7
Flynn
M y emotions are all over the place as I look in on my sleeping angels before I tiptoe into our room in case Nat is asleep. I’m relieved to see her sitting up in bed, feeding Ben and, by the expectant look on her face, obviously waiting for me. Fluff is curled up to her feet. As much as Fluff adores Cece, she still sleeps with her first love.
“How is he?”
“A mess, but we had a good talk, and he drank half a bottle of gin. I think he’ll be able to sleep.” As I unbutton my shirt, I’m completely drained after this eventful day. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”
“We’ll be here.”
I run a gentle finger over Ben’s soft cheek and kiss my beautiful wife. “At times like this, I don’t know what I’d do without you. No matter what’s going on, knowing you’re here makes everything bearable.”
Her warm green eyes go soft with emotion. “Same goes, love.”
“Be right back.”
I rush through a shower and shave, eager to hold her and talk it out with her, as always. I almost can’t remember what my life was like before that momentous day in a New York City park when Fluff busted loose, burst into a scene Hayden and I were filming and ended up biting me. When I ran after them, Natalie feared I might sue her, which is too funny in retrospect. With one look at her, I’d seen everything I’d ever wanted. Somehow, I knew instantly that I’d regret letting her get away.
As I revisit the most important day of my life, I run the razor over my face and think about the days and weeks that followed our meeting. Our story never gets old to me, and soon, the rest of the world will see the film we made about her story—and ours.
Following months of debate, we changed the title from Captivated to Valiant, a word that accurately sums up the woman I love and her incredible tale of survival. The word is defined as boldly courageous, brave, which are the perfect words to describe my wife, and the studio liked that title much better than the original one. In all my years in this business, I’ve never anticipated a film’s release more than this one. I’ll never tell a more important story.
Even though Natalie was fully on board and consulted on every stage of the process, in the back of my mind, I worry it might’ve been a mistake to resurrect her painful past, even if it includes so much inspiration for other survivors. She swears she’s fine with it, but still, I worry.
After today, among many other concerns, I’m also concerned about how a Godfrey family scandal might take the shine off the film. Some might call me selfish for having such a thought after everything that happened today, but after years of work on this project, I don’t want anything to stand in the way of Natalie’s big moment.
She’s an executive producer on the film and has had an outsized role in shaping the narrative from the beginning. I want her to get all the accolades she deserves. With Natalie’s youngest sister, Olivia, playing her, we’re also about to watch a new star be born, and we couldn’t be more excited about that either.
At a time like this, I hate to think about business, but in my world, the personal is tied to the professional. Of course, I’m far more concerned about my parents and the state of their marriage, but Valiant looms large in the background as we count down to the long-awaited release in March.
I towel off and walk into the bedroom in all my glory, noting that Ben is now in his bassinet and Natalie has turned on her side to wait for me.
I slide between the cool sheets and reach for her, wrapping myself around her and the comfort that comes with her. “God, I’ve needed this for hours.” I breathe her in, and just that quickly, much of the tension I’ve been carrying since the call from my dad this morning slips away. I have no doubt it’ll be back before long, but for now, I relax ever so slightly.
“I can’t believe this is happening. If you’d asked me this morning if anything could ever come between them, I would’ve said nothing. Ever.”
“I know.” I run my fingers through her silky dark hair. “It’s unfathomable.”
“I can see both sides, though. Can you?”
“Definitely. I’m not sure my mom will ever get over him keeping this from her for their entire marriage.” After a deep sigh, I add, “He told me something else that’s going to come as a big and possibly unwelcome surprise to her.” I keep nothing from her, ever, because I trust her with my life and all my secrets.
“What do you mean?”
“Back in the day, before he was married to Vivian and during, he was part of our lifestyle.”
Natalie props herself up on an elbow, her expression conveying amazement. “And your mom doesn’t know that?”
“Nope. It was a big part of what ruined his relationship with Vivian, so he decided to step back from it after he met Mom.”
She drops back to the pillow. “Wow.”
“What’re you thinking?”
“That might be a tougher pill for your mom to swallow than him being married to Vivian.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Her first thought, as a woman, will be that he did things with his ex-wife, who she can’t stand, that he’s never done with her. That he’s kept that part of himself from her their entire married life. She’ll wonder whether he was wanting more all that time. I would.”
“I hadn’t really thought of it that way, but you’re right. She will wonder, and she’ll probably be even more upset than she already is when she finds out there’s more.”
“That would probably rock me more than finding out there was an ex-wife I didn’t know about.”
“I don’t know what to do to fix this,” I say with a deep sigh.
“It’s not up to you to fix it. Only they can do that.”
“How will they do that if they’re not living under the same roof or even communicating?”
“Your mom won’t want to cancel the party or the rest of the plans. Doing that would send the media into a feeding frenzy that no one needs right now. They’ll be forced to spend time together whether she wants to or not, and hopefully, they’ll find a chance to talk.”
“What’ll we do if they split?”
“They won’t. They can’t. I refuse to believe that’s even possible.”
“According to Dad, it’s more than possible.”
“Everything is raw today. Your mom needs to sit with this for a minute and wrap her head around it. She’s the most reasonable person I’ve ever known. I firmly believe she’ll come to understand why he kept this from her. That may not happen right away, but it will. I’m sure of it.”
“I wish I could be. I’ve never seen them on the outs. Not for one minute, let alone her kicking him out of the house.”
“You’re very fortunate to have lived for forty years without any trouble between your parents.”
“I know that. Believe me, I do. I remember watching their friends, the Remingtons, tear each other apart for close to a decade and realizing how lucky I was to never have had to deal with something like that. Their kids were dragged through the mud with them. It was so ugly.”
“Didn’t they make a movie about that?”
“A TV show that lasted two seasons before the network decided the storyline was too toxic to be entertaining.”
“Oh, right. I remember now. I think I watched some of it once and couldn’t get through it for that same reason.”
“My parents were good friends with Kate and Corbin before it went bad. They struggled to stay neutral and never chose sides. But they had strong opinions and were disgusted by what they put their children through.”
“I can imagine that’d be hard to watch.”
“It was. Dad used to say that as divorce attorneys, they should’ve known better.”
“You’d think.”
“Anyway,” I say on another long sigh, “enough of all that. The last thing I want to talk about right now is divorce attorneys.”
Nat chuckles at the face I make when I say that.
“What went on around here today? I hated being gone so long.”
“I knew you would. Let’s see… Cece got a one hundred on her spelling test.”
“She’s the most brilliant kindergartner in history.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Scarlett made a new friend named Aaron. Rowan played with the coolest truck ever at school, and Ben napped for ninety whole minutes, a new world’s record.”
“All that in one day.” It never ceases to amaze me how much occurs in one twenty-four-hour period in the lives of young children. I find myself working less all the time, so I don’t miss anything. I busted my ass for years before I had a family and am fortunate that I can now pick and choose projects that keep me close to home. It’s been years since I filmed on location or worked for any company other than my own.
“What do we know about this Aaron character Scarlett is hanging out with?”
Natalie laughs. “He’s four years old and has red hair.”
“A ginger, huh? Can they be trusted?”
“He’s a very sweet boy.”
“Hmmm, I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Am I going to have to move out of here with the girls when they’re teenagers?”
I pull her in closer to me. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Then you’ll have to tolerate boys in our daughters’ lives.”
“They don’t need boys. They’ve got their daddy.”
“Flynn…”
“Don’t torture me at bedtime, sweetheart. I’ll have nightmares.”
She rocks with silent laughter as I try not to think about my angel babies fending off horny boys. The very thought of it gives me hives. Fortunately, we’re quite a few years from when I’ll have to actually deal with that horror.
In the meantime, I have to deal with the current horror of trouble between my parents and the very real possibility that it could get worse before—or if—it gets better.
Stella
I wake up smiling, thinking about our plans for the weekend and the upcoming Christmas holiday as well as Flynn’s fortieth birthday. All four of our children will now be in their forties. How is that possible? After weeks of relentless rehearsals, I’m also ready for the holidays in Utah, followed by ten days in the Mexican sunshine with our extended family.
And then, with a sudden lurch that takes my breath away, I remember what happened yesterday. I’m crushed all over again to realize I’ve woken up alone on our fiftieth anniversary, in the home I’ve shared with Max for decades, while he sleeps somewhere else, probably at Flynn’s, if I had to guess.
Max Godfrey.
The love of my life, the center of my universe, my everything…
And all this time, he was hiding a massive secret from me.
In my family—and in my life—I’m known as the fixer. I take care of whatever problem arises, efficiently and effectively, so we can get back to the business of living and loving and enjoying one another. I can’t bear drama or manufactured bullshit, and my kids learned a long time ago to keep that crap far away from me. But when there’s trouble of any kind? I’m their first call.
I like being the fixer. Rarely do I find myself in a situation where I don’t know what to do.
As I confront this morning after yesterday’s apocalypse, I have no idea what to do first.
My phone buzzes with texts, probably my children checking to make sure I survived the night. They’re unaccustomed to trouble between their parents and have to be seriously undone by it. I feel for them. I really do, and I wish more than anything I could wave a wand and make it all better for them the way I normally would.
I wish someone would do that for me , but no one can. Only I can do it, and to be honest, I don’t want to. I’m angry, hurt and betrayed. Why should I have to worry about fixing something I didn’t cause?
The kids are probably also freaking out about the party. They’ll want to know for certain that it’s still on. If I could do anything I wanted today, I’d hop on a plane and go to Paris by myself and lose myself in galleries, museums, coffee shops and boutiques until the pain lessens.
If the pain ever lessens.
I won’t do that to my kids and grandchildren, who are as excited as their parents to celebrate us and our long, successful marriage.
Oh God… I suddenly remember that the People magazine cover is due to drop today, lauding one of Hollywood’s most enduring marriages. Max and I sat for the photo shoot a month ago, did the interview two months ago and haven’t given it a thought since.
I try to remember what we talked about in the interview… Things like what it takes to stay married for fifty years while living and working in the Hollywood fishbowl. Respect, honesty, genuine love and humor. Lots of humor.
I’m going to be sick.
My Max was married to that monster Vivian Stevens.
Tears roll down my face that I bat away with aggravated swipes. Why am I crying when I haven’t done anything other than love that man with all my heart for most of my life? Fueled by rage the likes of which I’ve rarely experienced, I get out of bed and get dressed, refusing to take to my bed like some sort of invalid when I’m anything but.
My muscles are sore from the relentless rehearsals over the last few weeks, but I power through the pain and get myself presentable for the visitors who are sure to come. They won’t see me rolled up in a ball licking my wounds. That’s for damned sure.
I’m headed downstairs when the doorbell rings. I think about ignoring it, but why should I? No one but our family knows about the current situation, so I have no fear of a reporter showing up at my door. Not yet, anyway.
I glance through the peephole to see a massive bouquet of white roses. Just that quickly, I’m angry again. Does he honestly think that’s going to fix what’s wrong here? I throw open the door, prepared to tell the delivery person to take them back, but it’s a young woman looking at me with big, starstruck eyes, and I don’t have the heart to reject her or her delivery. Besides, we don’t need the publicity that would come from Stella Flynn rejecting a flower delivery from Max Godfrey. But I want to send them back and tell her to tell him to stuff it.
Ridiculous juvenile shit, but there you have it.
“D-delivery for you, Ms. Flynn.”
I take the massive vase from her and nearly drop it when the weight settles on me.
“Do you need help?”
“I think I’ve got it. Thank you. I don’t have any cash for a tip.”
“Oh, it’s all set, ma’am. You have a nice day, and if I can just say… I’m a big fan of your work. And your son’s work. And your husband’s.” She blushes. “All of you.”
“That’s very kind of you to say. We appreciate it. I’m just going to go find a place to put these down.”
“Yes, ma’am. Of course. I’ll get the door for you.”
“Thank you.”
I carry them into the dining room and put them at the center of the huge table. We recently reconfigured the first floor to allow for the much bigger table as our family continues to grow. The card is nestled between two of the huge blooms that make up a bouquet of five dozen roses. I tear open the envelope to find a handwritten note from my husband that was obviously composed before yesterday.
My darling Stella… Fifty years ago today, you made me the happiest guy in the world when you married me and made my life complete. I’ll never understand what I did to get so lucky as to spend my life with you, the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever known. You’re the best wife, mother and grandmother any of us could ever wish for, and we love you with all our hearts. I love you with all of mine, my darling, now and forever. Max
I sink into one of the chairs, sobbing as I reread the note. He means every word of it. I have no doubt about that. I never have. But now I know something I didn’t know before yesterday, and that one thing changes everything. I wish it didn’t, but it does.
Tears continue to slide down my face, but I wipe them away and get up, determined to hold it together and get through this day that I thought would be filled with our own private celebration full of happy memories ahead of tonight’s dinner with the family and tomorrow’s party. I go through the motions of making coffee, which is normally Max’s job as he gets up before me most days when we aren’t working. Using my sleeve, I wipe away the tears that refuse to quit. Every one of them pisses me off, because under normal circumstances, I try to never waste my precious time weeping over things I can’t control.
But this… This is a kick in the teeth the likes of which I’ve never experienced. Well, that’s not entirely true… When Vivian swooped in and made off with my fiancé… That was a pretty big kick in the teeth, too. It’s funny how I’ve rarely placed any of the blame on him, preferring to focus on her. She knew we were engaged, but that didn’t stop her from taking what she wanted, and to hell with who got hurt.
The outrage of being stabbed in the back by another woman hurt worse than Jonah’s weakness ever could have. It was almost immediately apparent that I hadn’t truly loved him if I cared so little about losing him. Losing him to her , however… That’s burned my ass for all the years since. To understand the why of that, one would have to understand what Vivian was like back then.
She was, without any doubt, the most beautiful woman to hit Hollywood in decades. Everyone who was anyone was dazzled by her. They wanted her in their beds and in their films—in that order—and were willing to do whatever it took to have her. Vivian, though, she was elusive and hard to get. One reporter at the time described her as smoke, impossible to capture or contain.
I’d rolled my eyes at that and all the other ridiculous ways the fawning press corps described her as something otherworldly, as if she’d descended from heaven itself to grace us all with her magic and beauty.
Long before I met her in person, I couldn’t stand her. Not because she was beautiful or popular or all the rage with casting directors. No, it was because of the way she handled herself in a professional setting, as if she was the center of the universe and no one else involved in the project mattered as much as she did. Her ego always preceded her into any room and sucked up all the oxygen, leaving nothing left for others.
Filmmaking is a collaborative process, but you couldn’t tell her that.
She was a selfish bitch, and everyone secretly hated her, but no one else would dare say it out loud until I did. I said what everyone else was thinking, and I said it in the most public way possible. Even though Vivian vindictively set out to ruin my career—and succeeded for a time—I’ve never regretted calling her out.
And into that vortex stepped Max Godfrey, rising star and sexiest man in the business at the time. I’ll never forget the first time I saw him in person. He took my breath away, and I’ve never quite gotten it back in all the years since…
Fifty-two years ago today…
I’m in the Green Room at The Merv Griffin Show , the first major booking I’ve had since my explosive argument with Hollywood’s golden girl, Vivian Stevens. Only because Dabney Richards is my manager have I gotten the chance to sing for Merv, since my acting career all but ended after I called Vivian a lying, cheating whore. I became the talk of the town for all the wrong reasons.
I found out how powerful Vivian is after I called her out for making off with my fiancé.
She’s the worst kind of woman, in my opinion, one who acts like she’s your best friend until she buries the knife between your shoulder blades and goes on with her gilded life like nothing untoward ever happened.
I, on the other hand, lost my fiancé, have been shunned by casting directors and even had a couple of pending contracts canceled.
While she’s seemingly been cast in every project currently in development, I’ve been left on the sidelines fuming, punished for telling the truth.
Dabney suggested I go back to singing, which was how I supported myself during the early lean years after I first arrived in Hollywood off a bus from Dubuque, Iowa. I’d sacrificed everything for the dream that’d begun to come true until I dared tangle with Vivian Stevens.
My parents have never forgiven me for leaving home. Several of my siblings went on with their lives as if I was never one of them, while I stayed close to one of my sisters. Calls home became shorter as time went on, and in the third year, they didn’t even ask if I was coming home for the holidays because they already knew what I’d say.
I don’t blame them. How can I? They have no way to know what it’s like in this town, how intense your focus must be to get anywhere, and then, even when you start to make inroads, it can all go to shit in the wake of one screaming fight with a nasty bitch who happens to be the new “it” girl.
I was never the “it” girl. I was the utility girl, cast as the sister or best friend to the ingenue. The epitome of supporting actress, even if my role in London Town was one of the biggest ones yet and was more substantial than Vivian’s part in the film.
Vivian was a star .
I was just an actress trying to get by in a brutal business.
Until I wasn’t even that anymore.
In Merv’s Green Room, I help myself to a bowl of the fruit that’s been put out for the talent appearing on the day’s show, along with croissants, yogurt and bottles of champagne. I’ve lost more than fifteen pounds I didn’t have to lose since the great blowup, as I refer to my career implosion. Eating, which used to be enjoyable, has become a chore. A lot of things are a chore that never used to be.
Thankfully, I was careful with the money I made before the great blowup and have been able to pay my share of the rent despite the downturn in my fortunes, but I’m always afraid that one more catastrophe will be the end of my Hollywood experiment, as my mother calls it. I’m cautious about everything—what I say, who I say it to, what I do and what I don’t do.
The bad press has finally died down after endless headlines about the actress who dared to call the beloved Vivian Stevens a whore. No one cares that it’s the truth. Why let that get in the way of a good story?
I need to be focused on what I’m here to do—launch my career in a new direction and focus on the music. Dabney was thrilled to tell me he’d gotten me on The Merv Griffin Show , the hottest ticket in the business, but I agreed to do it only after he promised I wouldn’t be asked about her or what happened with her .
“You can’t exactly afford to make demands, doll,” Dabney said.
As if I need to be told that. “Either they agree to it, or I’m not doing it. I won’t resurrect that nonsense when it’s finally died down.”
He came back with assurances, and here I am, hoping for a badly needed reset.
The door to the Green Room opens, and the peppy young staffer who brought me in earlier comes in with someone I instantly recognize: Max Godfrey, who’s been the talk of the town lately after his starring turn in Sandman .
“Have you two met?” the young man asks.
“We haven’t.” Max comes toward me, extending his hand. “Max Godfrey.”
“Stella Flynn.”
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
I’m stunned that he knows who I am. “You as well.”
Good Lord, the man is tall and handsome, with wavy dark hair, kind brown eyes and a showstopping, warm, genuine smile that lights up his face. Add a muscular physique to all that natural gorgeousness, and you’ve got the makings of a full-fledged movie star.
“I’ll leave you to get acquainted,” the admin says. “I’ll be back for you shortly.”
“Thanks, Brad,” Max says.
It’s no surprise to me that he’s on a first-name basis with Merv’s employee. He’s on the show regularly, whereas this is my first time—and not for the reason I once hoped it would be. As Dabney said so eloquently when we realized I’d have to start over, Thank God you can sing like an angel .
Max helps himself to a croissant and some of the fruit. “Champagne?”
With so much riding on this appearance, I should decline. “Sure, thanks.” Maybe a little bubbly will help my nerves.
He brings me the glass and takes a seat on the sofa next to me. “I thought you were great in London Town .”
I’m shocked because no one seemed to notice me in the film. No, they were all about her . “Oh. Thank you.”
“You were the highlight.”
“Sure I was.”
“I thought so.”
He’s so beautiful, it almost hurts to look at him. Even though he’s been everywhere lately, I know very little about him because he keeps his personal life locked down, unlike so many people in our business these days, who seem to enjoy being the subject of salacious rumors that keep their names in the news.
That’s not him, and I respected him for the way he operates long before I met him in person.
“Thank you. It’s kind of you to say so.”
With kindness in short supply in my life lately, I’m deeply grateful for his.
“I heard you’re singing today. I didn’t know you were also a singer.”
I’m shocked that he knows anything at all about me, except, of course, the bad stuff that everyone knows. “That’s where I started out, and it’s always been my first love.” That’s not true. I desperately wanted to be an actress. The music was a means to an end at first. Now it’s my only option, which makes me bitter.
“I can’t wait to hear you.”
Now I’m even more nervous than I was before. I take a sip of the champagne, praying for some badly needed liquid courage as we watch Merv’s opening on a monitor.
Brad returns for me ten minutes later.
Max flashes that warm smile my way. “See you out there. Break a leg.”
“Thank you.”
He’ll never know what his kindness means to me. That he treated me like a colleague and not a walking, talking scandal is a special gift during this difficult time.
I rehearsed yesterday with Merv’s musicians, who are ready for me to sing “I Don’t Know How to Love Him” from Jesus Christ Superstar .
Dabney hopes I’ll attract the attention of Broadway producers with this performance and encouraged me to sing something from one of the big shows. The last thing I want is a move to New York City, but I’ll do it if it comes to that. Whatever it takes to stay in the business and to make enough to support myself.
I’ve worn a slinky silver gown and had my hair and makeup done professionally, which cost a pretty penny, but everything about this opportunity has to go perfectly if I’m to have a chance at career rehabilitation.
Merv is warm and welcoming as he introduces me and my “hidden talent” to a studio audience that greets me with applause that’s a big relief. I was afraid they might boo me because they love her so much.
The song allows me to show my considerable vocal range, which was another goal, and is met with enthusiastic applause after the final note.
Merv walks toward me, clapping and smiling, and gives me a hug. “Stella Flynn, ladies and gentlemen.”
He invites me to the sofa for a chat, which wasn’t promised, and I take the arm he offers me to walk to the seating area.
When we’re settled, he says, “Well, who knew that Stella Flynn could sing ?”
I laugh as the audience applauds again. “It’s my big secret.”
“Not anymore, my dear.”
I’ve offered a few funny stories he can ask me about, and he chooses the one about the bus ride from Dubuque in which one of my fellow travelers was car sick almost the entire way. “I’m a sympathetic puker. If you puke, I puke, so needless to say, this was a bit of a problem for me.”
Merv laughs along with the audience.
I’m glad he chose that story, because it’s funny and relatable, and it’s not about show business. “Here I was, this young girl from Iowa, striking out for Hollywood, and the first twenty hours are all about puke.”
“An inauspicious start,” Merv says, smiling.
“To say the least.”
“Can you stick around for a bit?”
“Absolutely.”
“Great. We’ll be right back with Stella Flynn and Max Godfrey up next.”
That’s the first time our names are mentioned in the same sentence.
When we cut to commercial break, Merv says, “You’ll be in hot demand after that performance.”
“I hope so.”
He leans in and lowers his voice, so he won’t be overheard. “For what it’s worth, I think she’s a total bitch.”
“It’s worth a lot.”
“You’ll be okay, Stella, and you’re welcome back here any time.”
“That means so much to me. Thank you, Merv.”
“My pleasure, sweetheart.”
When we return from the break, Merv introduces Max to thundering applause and wolf whistles from a few of the women.
He’s changed into a gray turtleneck and black slacks. He looks positively dreamy, and I’m not the only woman in the room who thinks so.
“You met Stella backstage?” Merv asks.
He glances my way. “I did, and wow, that song… Beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I hope I’m not blushing.
“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding a talent like that from all of us,” Max adds. “Have you always been a singer?”
He’s using his time on the show to help me. Why would he do that?
“I, um, well… Yes, I used to sing in church and in shows at school.”
“What a voice you have. Incredible range.”
I’m speechless. And incredibly grateful. I’m also slightly ashamed to be in a situation in which someone like him feels the need to help me. But whatever. I’ll take what I can get.
Merv and Max are witty and fun and obviously good friends as they talk about a memorable night they spent together in Vegas.
When the show wraps, Max walks me back to the Green Room, where we left our things.
Once we’re inside the room with the door closed, I turn to him. “Thank you for that out there.”
He looks genuinely confused. “For what?”
“You didn’t have to use your time with Merv to help me, but I appreciate it.”
“That’s not what I was doing. At least not intentionally. I was genuinely blown away by your talent.”
“That’s nice to hear. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. What’re you up to after this? Want to grab a drink?”
“Oh, um…” Is he asking me out? Max Godfrey is asking me out?
He tips his head, flashing that potent smile. “You’re not going to leave me hanging here, are you?”
“No, of course not. I’d love to get a drink.”
“Excellent. Let’s go.”
Tears slide down my face as I remember that first meeting with Max. One drink led to two, which led to forever. We were together from that day on, the first three days without coming up for air. My appearance on The Merv Griffin Show had the desired effect as my singing career took off, and I’ve never looked back.
Every year on our anniversary, the kids play the video of us on Merv’s show. How many children have video of the day their parents met, they like to say.
Merv attended our wedding two years to the day later on December 19 and sang a duet with me at the reception. He became a close, treasured friend to us, and we mourned his passing when we lost him. I haven’t thought of that day since our anniversary last year. We didn’t care that it was six days before Christmas and both our mothers objected to the timing. The date meant something to us. It always has.
Until today.
Fifty years of marriage, fifty-two years together, and this is the first time we’ve woken up on this day without each other. I always thought only the death of one of us could cause that to happen.
In some ways, hearing he was married to Vivian before he met me is a death of sorts, the death of my innocence where Max is concerned. I thought I knew him better than anyone on earth. Finding out otherwise has been brutal. She knew something about him for all this time that I didn’t. That burns like acid inside me.
I go into the kitchen, boil water and wait for my tea to steep while I ponder the unbelievable situation I find myself in. Tomorrow, our closest family and friends will gather to celebrate us, and we’re on the outs.
How is that even possible?
Max and I have never been on the outs, not for more than an hour here or there in all these years. Our infrequent arguments tend to blow over quickly because, under normal circumstances, neither of us can bear to be upset with the other.
What does it say about me that even after everything that’s happened, I want to call and beg him to come home to me?
I take my tea to sit at the cozy table in the kitchen where we have breakfast together every morning. He scans the Los Angeles Times and the industry trades while I scroll through Facebook on my iPad. We chat about everything and nothing. I show him pictures the girls have posted of the kids, and he muses about the state of the world.
His empty chair across the table feels so incredibly wrong, especially on this particular day, which we fully planned months ago. We’ve been looking forward to a couple’s massage, a champagne lunch and then dinner with the family at Frankie’s later.
I drop my head into my hands. People will talk if we don’t show up for any of those things.
My phone chimes with a text. I glance at it, expecting it to be one of the girls. They must be out of their minds over this. Of course they are. In all their charmed lives, they’ve never known their parents to be anything other than blissfully happy and in love. Always in love.
The text isn’t from the girls.
It’s from Max.
I read it like the woman who’ll be in love with him until I draw my last breath, regardless of what he failed to tell me.
My darling, fifty-two years ago today, my life changed forever when I walked into Merv Griffin’s Green Room and met my destiny. Fifty years ago today, I was on top of the world because I got to marry my dream girl. Every single day since then has been better than the one before because I got to spend 18,250 days with you. Today I’d planned to thank you for fifty-two years of everything good and sweet and perfect in my life, for our four exceptional children, our twelve incredible grandchildren, the legion of friends and experiences and adventures.
I still want to thank you for all of that. None of it happens without you. I quite simply can’t imagine what my life would’ve been without you by my side. Whatever that picture looks like, I’m not interested. The only life I want is the one I’ve had with you, my beautiful wife, my soul mate, my best friend, my forever love. When I tell you there’s no one but you, that there has NEVER been anyone but you in my heart or soul, I hope you believe me, even though you have no reason to after what you learned yesterday. That person is less than nothing to me. A blip. A mistake. A moment in time I never think about. For all intents and purposes, in my mind, she doesn’t exist, she never existed. Meeting you was like staring directly into the sun. Everything else was blotted out by the brilliant, bright light of you.
I knew then and I know now that I don’t deserve you, but for some reason, you love me, and that’s the greatest single gift in my life. None of the other beautiful things happen without you. You are everything to me. You always have been, and you always will be. It breaks my heart that I have hurt you, especially with so much to celebrate this weekend.
I’ll never forgive myself for this, even if you do.
I love you, Stel. Fifty-two years and counting.
Max
I read it three times, blinking through the tears that try to blind me.
He can see that I’ve read it.
I picture him, probably at Flynn’s, holding his breath, hoping I’ll reply.
After another reread of his heartfelt note, I have only one thing to say.