THIRTY-SIX
Maeve
When I run into the gas station to get gum, I find myself staring at two dueling magazine covers. One has me on the cover in a pink suit. The other has Finn and Cassidy, hand in hand, on the set of his parents’ latest movie. His first movie since his award-winning performance as a child.
I buy both.
Back in my car I have a moment of pause over which to flip through first. My gut instinct is to look at the photos of Finn and Cassidy. Finn told me he was doing the movie with her, and although I wish we had talked about it together before he committed, that he went to me instead of her to get the pep talk about conquering his fears, I can see how embarrassed he is to love acting after refusing to do it all this time. So I’m trying to support him, like he would do for me. And I really am happy that he’s found his way back to his pas sion! I’ve wanted this for him for a long time. But every anxiety I had over the two of them—how much better suited to each other they are, how much the press loves them together, how well they know each other—has come flooding back. It’s like I’m looking at that first photo outside of Carbone. And every photo that came afterward: on Instagram, in magazines, and on social media. But I force myself to push aside the deluge of intrusive thoughts and open my own magazine spread first.
The cover photo is gorgeous. And the headline— She’s On Top —is both provocative and flattering. I got an early copy of the text component, and the article itself is thoughtful and kind. Friendly press, as Shazia called it. It’s meant to serve as a beacon of hope for women everywhere. When I open the magazine, the text is as described, with lovely pull quotes featuring my most empowering quotes from the interview. But the pictures … they’re all of Finn and me. And in the middle of the article, I see they’ve bolded a quote from Finn that wasn’t in the initial draft.
Maeve is the most brilliant person I know. She deserves all of the credit for Tell Me How You Really Feel. And trust me when I say this, you will be blown away by what she has coming next …
He was being kind. Trying to give my solo show a boost. But the article takes a detour to praise him for being supportive, for saying I’m the “most brilliant person” (note: not woman ) he knows. Men are constantly lauded for just being decent. This is supposed to be my article, but once again Finn is given the spotlight because he is just so famous, so much more appealing, and will get so many clicks .
Anxiety is burning in my throat as I put my magazine down and open the tabloid. I should just throw it out. There’s a trash bin about two feet away, directly in front of my car, and I know I’m only feeding my anxiety by reading this. But I open it. Obviously .
It’s nothing I don’t already know. They’re doing a movie together, where they play romantic leads. I know that’s why there’s a photo of them kissing. Finn came home the night before and told me it was technically possible to CGI the kiss, if they stayed an inch apart, but it would cost a huge amount and would it be okay if he just kissed her? It’s not like they hadn’t already. My heart hurt when I said yes.
For a while it felt like everyone wanted us together. But really, that was just our fans. The world wants Finn and Cassidy. It’s an old story, and I hate that I’m anxious over it. But this is all combining into a perfect storm, one that plays on my worst fears. That I’m not enough. That I’m no one without Finn. That he wants a bigger, better life than the one he has with me. I throw People onto the passenger seat, my own magazine now obscured, and head to the studio.
I’ve gotten over our jump scare of a set, no longer flinching when I see the dick mics and vagina table. And today, right on top of the clitoris, is a cake, with an edible photo of my magazine cover.
I look up to Finn’s smiling face. My first thought should be, Wow, my boyfriend is so caring and amazing . But what I’m really thinking is, How did he get this photo early? I couldn’t see the photos early, and I’m the fucking cover. Does this mean he knew that they overhauled my solo article that was supposed to be a celebration of women crushing the patriarchy, of me shattering the glass ceiling, with quotes and photos of him?
“Wow,” is all I say.
Finn walks around the table and pulls me in for a kiss. It’s a perfect kiss. Tender and deep and loving. And I wonder if it’s the same kiss Cassidy gets. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to turn off this part of my brain.
“Congratulations,” Finn says when he breaks away. “I know we already knew you did it … but you did it. And now everyone knows how incredible you are. So let’s eat your face.” He picks up a knife and starts cutting us slices of the cake, clearly trying to sculpt out the best piece for me.
I should feel happy. This is what I’ve been striving for, after all. But instead I feel the dull throb of anxiety. A slight sense of dread. Regardless, I paste on a smile, or at least try for an approximation of it. “Thank you. This is so nice.”
Finn stops what he’s doing, putting the piece of cake he was plating back on the platter. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t want to ruin this moment. But my anxiety is threatening to overwhelm me, and I don’t know how to hide it from him. I just shake my head mutely, focusing on holding back the tears.
Finn walks around the table and puts his arm around me, guiding me toward a chair. “Maeve, just talk to me. It’s okay. I’m here, I’m with you.” I sit down, his grip on me tight. “I’m going to reschedule today’s interview, okay?”
“No,” I choke out. “It’s unprofessional.” My voice cracks on the words, and I swallow hard.
“It’s okay,” Finn murmurs. “I’ll say I got food poisoning. And I know the guest; she’ll be okay. She’ll probably be secretly glad to do it tomorrow. I saw she was out partying last night. I’ll take the blame. Okay?”
We’ve never canceled an episode. If I was the cause of cancelation, I would be unprofessional. But I know no one will mind if Finn is. And that’s the problem. I’ll always be held to a double standard that I don’t think he will ever really understand. Finn steps out to cancel the episode and comes back in, a cold glass of water and tissues in hand. The tissues, no surprise, are in a container shaped like boobs.
I take one and pat underneath my eyes, trying to soak up the tears while they’re still light and I have a chance of preserving my mascara. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently.
I take a shuddering breath. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just feeling anxious. The article was a little different than I thought it would be, and the photos of Cassidy just made me feel stressed, even though I know it’s stupid. I don’t know.”
It’s hard for me to pull my thoughts together when I’m feeling anxious like this. Finn rubs my back gently. “The article is my fault. I never should have let them take photos of me. And I didn’t realize they were going to use that quote. The focus should have stayed on what your accomplishment means for other women.”
He’s so understanding. So nice . But why did he let them integrate him into the shoot if he’s so self-aware now? I don’t know if this is a problem we’ll ever be able to solve. But I’ll just have to learn how to live with it, because really, it’s about the world around us more than his actions. “I appreciate you saying that. I’m just feeling insecure, I think, because all those networks wanted you to be part of my solo show … I just feel like I’m not enough, I don’t know.” I hate that I’m punctuating my feelings with uncertainty. It’s something women are trained to do. Usually I make a point not to do it, but in these vulnerable moments I can’t think clearly enough to monitor my own speech. And really, I shouldn’t have to.
“Maeve, you are so talented. I’m so sorry; those networks are idiots. And I’m sorry I took away from this huge accomplishment, at all. Especially when you’ve been so nice and generous about me working with Cassidy. What can I do to try to turn this around, to make this moment about the awesome thing you’ve done?”
He always says the right thing. His palm rubbing my back is rhythmic and soothing, and I can feel my heartbeat slowing back down to normal. The threat of tears subsiding. “Let’s just have a nice night at home. Takeout from our favorite place. We can try the cake, then. I want to go to the gym, then we can meet back up.” Working out is the one thing guaranteed to help my anxiety.
“Sounds perfect.” Finn kisses me sweetly on the forehead. “And do you want them to change the digital edition of the article? They can sub the quote and pictures.”
“Finn, they wouldn’t even show me the pictures. I don’t think they’re going to change the article.”
Finn pulls me closer. “My mom is a good friend of the magazine. If it would make us all feel better, I think they would. Let me do this for you.”
“I’m afraid they’ll think I’m being difficult to work with,” I argue halfheartedly.
He kisses me, not caring about my snotty nose and running mascara. “Let me be a diva. It’s good acting practice.”
I nod, agreeing, like I almost always do with him. And by the time we’re eating the cake, the digital version of the article is perfect.