Dawn #2
Since that first time in Silver Lake, Lincoln and I have met for coffee when he’s in Northern California or I’m in Southern, and we text in spurts when one of us watches or listens to something the other would appreciate.
We share a penchant for Gary Cooper movies and ’90s indie music.
I’m still not entirely sure what he is to me, but it’s evolving, and I’ve become much better at living with uncertainty.
As long as I’m good with Dennis, Miranda, Winnie, and Audrey, I can tolerate pretty much any other discomfort life throws at me.
I’m hoping Oliver is it for Audrey. After our adventure, it took her another six months of in and out with Jed before she cut him off for good.
Once she made the choice, she blocked his number and found another set of support groups to help her stay sober from him.
Audrey was single for a long time after that as she slowly started working again, trying different careers in entertainment to see what fit her now.
Hilariously, for a while she even hosted a cable television talk show, but she hated it and threw a party when it was canceled after ten episodes.
Serendipitously, that was when I went to her with an idea for a documentary.
To make Sober Curious and secure funding, we incorporated as a production company: FoundSistersMedia.
Only we knew that Winifred Hartley had made the most substantial of the seed investments.
Although she had finally come out as the author of the Vineland series in a surprise appearance and announcement at the party I designed for Carol Robillard, which included the actual hammock knotted by my grandfather—kicking off close to two years of readings and speaking engagements around the world—Winnie still preferred to remain anonymous in most things.
Uncle Bernie was more vocal about his investment, which was good because his endorsement meant something in the business, and it led to many important and useful connections.
And that party for Carol, which I put my heart and soul into, was my last job as a set designer.
Audrey and Oliver have been together a little more than a year.
He’s a bit older and has two college-age daughters from his three-decade marriage, both of whom love Audrey, and whom Audrey loves right back.
He’s a stable, kind, adventuresome widower, and as much as she might complain about how much he travels for his job, Audrey actually treasures the time the relationship affords her to be alone with her potting wheel and her ideas for more documentaries, and a novel she’s thinking of writing.
This auspicious January morning, there is no way I’m going to get any real work done, so once I drop Phoebe off at day care, I throw myself onto the comfy peach-colored love seat in the FoundSisters office of my house and set about calling back everyone who’s been lighting up my phone all morning.
There was a CONGRATULATIONS text from Uncle Bernie, sent with fireworks, and an identical one from Lincoln.
First, though, the moms.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart!” Mom says as soon as she picks up.
“Thanks, Mom. I’m proud, too. I don’t even care if we win.”
“Of course! You have plenty of time for awards. This was only your first film! Amazing. Winnie and I are already planning to come down to be with Phoebe while you and Audrey and hopefully Dennis enjoy the awards.”
“The dynamic grandmother duo.”
“You know how much we enjoy it.”
“I do. Hey, how is the gallery?” Miranda used half the money she’d made selling the vineyard to Raul and his son James to open Hartley Gallery in St. Helena, with an outpost in Carmel.
Tom—yes, it turned out, the Tom—is divorced and retired in Monterey, so they see each other whenever she is down there.
I’ve met him a few times, and it made my heart sing to see how he made my mother blush. He was so kind.
“Excellent. We’ve sold a number of pieces recently. Two by that Italian painter you liked so much.”
“And you? Are you making time to paint?”
“Every day.”
“Good.” Mom claims not to want to show her own work, that she’s happy giving her watercolor landscapes as gifts to other artists and family friends, but I still hope she might change her mind. Winnie always tells me to lay off.
“Need I even ask what you and Dennis are going to do to celebrate?” Mom asks.
“Chocolate soufflé, of course. And probably steak frites before. Jenny’s going to babysit.”
My phone beeps, and I look at the caller.
“Oh hey, that’s Winnie calling.”
“Go! Tell her I said hello.”
“Will do.” I click over and say, “Hi, Winnie!”
“I am so proud of you.”
“Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you, you know. Everything you shared about recovery and how it’s changed over the years. And your story is such an inspiration.”
“As is yours, my love.”
“It’s been nine years.” It’s nearly impossible to believe, but it’s a fact I keep close, like a favorite book by my bedside.
“They go by fast, don’t they?”
“When you’re doing things you love.”
“With people you love. So! The awards are in, what? Two months?”
“Yep. Mom said you two have already hatched a plan to come down?”
“We have. But I thought maybe you and I could meet in San Francisco next week? We can have a nice long lunch and maybe look at dresses. You need a dress, don’t you?”
“Indeed I do.”
“I couldn’t buy your prom dress. Let me at least buy you this dress.”
“That’s very sweet, but you know I can buy my own dress.”
“This is not about money.”
I laugh. “Okay. That will be fun.”
I am so lucky. To have so many people who love me, whom I love in return.
Even two mothers! Life, I’ve come to realize, is about growing our capacity for love.
It only took me forty years to learn this.
Is anyone born knowing it? Maybe everyone is, but then we lose it and have to find it again, like a favorite cardigan under the bed.
“I’ll see you soon,” says Winnie.
“Next week.” I’m about to hang up but quickly say, “Winnie?”
“Yes, love?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
Winnie sighs contentedly on the other end of the line. We don’t need more words to completely understand all that we have given each other.