Chapter 18
Too Gay to Be Ignored
It felt like a bad joke about an uptight person who’d finally gotten laid, but the day after Rebecca and I slept together, I went off-book and didn’t need Kevin to feed me a single line.
I was relieved that no one could have known, until it hit me that obviously Rebecca would know. She’d been there.
Also from the looks Kathleen and Ashlee shot each other during lunch, maybe they suspected something, too.
Not that they suspected Rebecca, of that much I was certain.
Here I was, feeling like something brand-new, while Rebecca was the same, calmly encouraging us, leading us, steering the whole ship.
I wished I could pause time and pull her aside, ask her if she’d meant everything she’d said that morning, but what did it matter?
Preview performances started in a couple weeks with opening night one week later, and then she’d be gone, and once the show closed I’d be getting ready to head off to New Mexico with only Rosie and my trainer and a big stack of books to keep me company.
I invited Andy and Aisha over because I couldn’t obsess over Rebecca if I couldn’t see her.
If I kept busy, I wouldn’t be tempted to text her.
There was an old Hollywood adage that celebrities were emotionally stunted at the age they became famous, but I’d started to worry that for me it was actually earlier.
I felt like a teenager in a reckless, panicked, obsessed way, a way I’d never been when I was actually a teenager.
Andy had arrived before me, and was already in the backyard doing his combination inspecting-the-grounds-slash-throwing-a-tennis-ball-for-Rosie. “Hey.”
“Hi, baby girl,” I said, leaning over as Rosie raced toward me. “Thanks for picking her up. How’s everything?”
He shrugged. “The usual, why?”
“You had plans the other night,” I pointed out. “Was it a date?”
“No,” he said. “Why are you asking?”
“Can’t I want you to be happy?” I asked.
“I dropped off some extras from work at Silverlochen,” he said with a shrug. “No offense to Aisha, but I thought the entrance could look a little nicer.”
The entrance to the arts camp had always looked good to me, but I loved how important that kind of thing was to my brother. “That was sweet of you.”
“They were extras,” he said quickly. “And you had plans too. Was that a date?”
“No,” I said, but even though I was confidant in my acting abilities, I could never lie to Andy. So I raced away, calling out that I needed to let Aisha in. Another lie!
I pulled ingredients out of the refrigerator and pantry, like a calm person absolutely not going through—well, whatever this was.
My own situationship. Why had I thought I could do this?
There was a reason I’d set up my life the way I had, and it was hardly because I was good at hiding things. Or was I? If Rebecca hadn’t shown up—
The doorbell rang, and I set down my paring knife and ran over to let in Aisha, who was carrying a bouquet in shades of soft pinks, corals, creams.
“Ooh, thank you.” I gave her a hug, careful of the flowers between us, grateful that maybe she wanted to make sure I felt better about every single recent awkward thing between us. “This is so sweet of you.”
“I can’t take credit,” she said with a laugh. “I ran into the delivery guy, so I checked the card to make sure they weren’t from a stalker. Best friend duty and all.”
“You’re wonderful,” I said, trying to ignore a pang of disappointment. Aisha was wonderful, flowers or not! “So you’re saying not from a stalker.”
Aisha laughed as she set the arrangement on the counter. “They’re from Yelp. Did you do a sponcon deal with them?”
I grabbed the card from the flowers. Ms. Gardner, We appreciate how often you’ve been recommending us lately. xoxo Yelp
“Wait,” Aisha said, looking over my shoulder. “Now that I think about it, maybe these are from a stalker. Why would a company sign ‘xoxo’? Are they Gossip Girl or something?”
“It was part of the campaign,” I said, laughing. “Don’t worry about it.”
“To your home, though,” she said, and I was still laughing. “Am I missing something?”
“Not at all,” I said, exactly like someone without any secrets, or at least I hoped. I could do this! “Sit down. I’m making your favorite.”
“Ooh, but, no, let me help,” she said, while Andy walked in from the backyard making a face.
“It’s just as good as regular lasagna,” I told him. “It’s basically Mom’s recipe.”
“Yeah, Mom’s recipe had actual pasta instead of zucchini,” he said. “And actual meat sauce.”
“Turkey is actual meat!” I yelled in absolutely too intense of a voice, but then Aisha turned to look at Andy with the exact same level of intensity.
“Also I love zucchini,” she said.
“Sure,” he said quickly. “Zucchini’s great.”
Once the sauce was thawed—I never made less than a giant batch so I’d be set for months—and the lasagna was assembled and in the oven, I snuck away down the hallway to take out my phone.
Please send my thanks to Yelp! I waited a few moments for the dots to appear, but since they didn’t, I shoved my phone into my pocket and headed back into the kitchen, where Aisha and Andy were speaking in low voices.
“Everything OK?” I asked, grabbing a towel to clean up the counter while we waited.
“Yeah, everything OK with you?” Andy asked.
This—the lying, the hiding, the secrets—was all new for me.
It was everything I thought I’d rejected when I’d gotten famous.
This—Rebecca—hadn’t been my only chance.
A few movies in, a girl I liked hanging out with who made me laugh on set and sometimes looked at me for just a moment more than felt neutral.
The writer who’d taken great pains to get my thoughts on a script, whose sleeve always brushed my arm, whose gaze lingered sometimes on my jawline—yes, the very jawline Autostraddle once pronounced frankly too gay to be ignored.
The other year an actress in a supporting role in The Only One spoke frequently to me on set, during press junkets, during FYC screenings in which we all but begged voters to nominate us and our film, made me feel like I was the center of her world.
The setup seemed as if it was there, like all I needed to do was say the word, ask her out, pull her into my hair and makeup room and kiss her. And I’d wanted to.
But what if I’d read her attention the wrong way?
What if the writer had been concerned about her script and not my jawline?
What if that girl a million years ago was simply …
looking at me? If taking Rosie to the wrong dinner party had landed me on Deuxmoi, where could asking out a straight woman land me?
Some people were good at building public lives on lies.
Ultimately knowing how bad I would have been at it had made my choices easy.
And now that I was—whatever I was doing, I felt just how poorly I was managing my facade.
Sometimes I felt exactly like Rosie, a goblin in a beautiful setting, and it seemed like no matter how hard you pushed, the goblin inside couldn’t be held back.
I flashed a smile at the two people I loved most. “Everything with me is fine.”
Rebecca didn’t text back until Andy and Aisha were gone.
Her timing was absolutely for the best, but I couldn’t help but wonder about her and what she was doing when we weren’t in communication.
She was, after all, smoke and mirrors. I was aware that in so many ways I didn’t know Rebecca Frisch at all.
You’re very welcome on behalf of Yelp.
And then: I don’t want to monopolize you but when can I see you again?
I smiled and texted back. Is “tomorrow” a pathetic answer?
No, or at least it’s mutually pathetic. I have a request, though I’m not sure that it’s doable? No pressure.
Go for it. No pressure felt.
I hear LA has all these great sapphic bars. Meanwhile I’ve been working so much I’ve barely gone out. Typing this, though, I feel like an asshole. Considering that you aren’t out, it’s probably not in the same category of restaurants being chill enough you can drop in for a meal, no?
I thought about the stories Rebecca had told me, the nights we were going to drink and dance until dawn, the life I could have had.
Would we still be together now? Would those be the stories we told, now that we were in our thirties and rarely stayed out late?
I rarely stayed out late, at least. Who knew what Rebecca did.
I wish I could, I texted her, though something dinged in my memory. Actually, I texted as fast as I could, as if it could erase not only the I wish I could but all those nights we weren’t together, my manager’s girlfriend owns one of the bars. I can find out if there’s a chill option.
Gardner, you’ve been holding out on me. Also, what did you do, walk into CAA and say, ‘give me the gayest manager you’ve got’?
I laughed and scrolled to my last exchange with Max. This is our unprofessional non-work chat, yes?
Max responded almost immediately. Yes! What’s up?
I looked to Rosie. “Do you have a good idea how I can explain this?”
Rosie’s blinky little frog eyes seemed to be suggesting I tell the truth, because while Rosie had seven figures of Instagram followers and several big influencer deals including one with Chewy dot com that required me to legally refer to her success as her pup-ularity, she didn’t fully understand the business. Also, the goblin within.
My director—
I backspaced. The director of Hometown wants to hit up a sapphic bar while she’s in town. I told her about your girlfriend’s place, and I’d like to be polite and take her myself, treat her to drinks and all, but—is that a terrible idea? How chill is it?
Rosie barked at me while I watched the three dots blink from Max’s end. “Hush. None of that is technically a lie.”
Come on a weeknight before 9 or 10 and it’s super chill. I can let you in the back entrance, and there’s a weird booth with terrible sightlines and even worse lighting. I always save it for Ari if I know she’s coming. Do you know Ari Fox?
I wondered if she meant it literally, was I acquainted with the lesbian indie film darling, or if it was a modern euphemism, like being a Friend of Dorothy once upon a time over the rainbow.
Not personally. I’d kill for her career. Or at least her Oscar!
Just tell me when you want to bring the director (since this is an unprofessional chat can I just say Rebecca Frisch?
?? dying tbh) and I’ll hold the booth and let you in through the back.
Also it’s NOT the kind of bar where people are trying to sneak phone videos of anyone.
My partner would never let it happen, it’s just not that vibe.
I didn’t even bother to deliberate whether or not it was a good idea. It wasn’t! There was so much I could never make up for, though. I could at least give Rebecca one thing.