Chapter Eleven
Dani
“Sometimes rediscovering yourself is easier in someone else’s mirror.” —Tanya
WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? THE WORDS WRITTEN on the back of Daria’s photo were the only thing on my mind during the entire flight to California.
Daria sounded a little too excited to hear from me when I called.
We haven’t spoken in at least a year, but she seemed like she had been expecting me to reach out.
I met Daria at London Fashion Week years ago.
Her luxury brand, Magnolia, was quickly gaining notoriety in the fashion industry, and I had surpassed the level of success I dreamt of as a model, but we were both still eager to cement our place in history.
She selected me as an ambassador for her brand and together we took the world of high fashion to new heights.
Micah and I have only just begun this journey Tanya has sent us on and already my heart aches for her. She lived a full life before I became a part of it—I knew that—but I wasn’t expecting the very first clue to lead us to a discovery of something so significant it altered her very existence.
“It’s beautiful here,” Micah says, pulling my thoughts away from whatever it is we’re headed toward.
When I turn to look at him, he’s looking out the window of the car Daria sent for us with such childlike whimsy it makes the stress wreaking havoc on my body feel silly.
“Have you been to California before?”
He turns to me, pinning me under his easygoing stare.
“Can’t say I’ve ever been to Calabasas, but I’ve been to a few different counties.
Actually, the last time I was in California was when Rome lived here.
Me, Christian, Jalen, Kam, and his mom came out to surprise him for his birthday.
Then we made him take us to Disneyland.”
“You made him take you to Disneyland for his birthday?”
“Hell yeah. It was his own fault because he said he was just gonna work. His mom wasn’t having that. Next thing we know, we’re all on a plane headed to the West Coast. Disneyland was Kam’s idea, and what Kam wants, he gets.”
Kam is an only child with rich uncles and an even richer dad. He has no choice but to be spoiled.
“Naturally,” I agree.
“Exactly. Which is how we ended up performing ‘I2I’ in the middle of the park.” His lips tilt into a faint smile as he starts humming Powerline’s classic tune.
A ridiculous image of four hulking men singing and dancing their hearts out to a Disney song floods my mind. “Please tell me there’s video evidence of this.”
He whistles, rubbing his palm over his beard. “Don’t tell Christian I told you this, but Ms. Rochelle definitely has that video and sent it to all her girlfriends.”
“I’m gonna have to get her number from Nelle,” I say, rubbing my hands together. “You just reignited my childhood crush. Powerline could definitely get it.”
He whips his body in my direction. “When you say Powerline, you mean Tevin Campbell?”
I shake my head. “No. I mean, I wouldn’t say no to Tevin. But, no. I mean Powerline.”
“The cartoon?”
“Are you really gonna sit there and act like you’ve never had a crush on a cartoon?” I stare at him, waiting for him to unleash an inevitable lie.
“Don’t think so.” And there it is.
“Velma?”
“No.”
“Lola Bunny?”
“No.”
“Storm?”
“No. Well, yes, but everyone with sexual desires and a brain wants Storm. That hardly counts.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Oh my God.”
“Oh, wait. I just thought of one.”
“Who?” I lean closer to him.
“Trudy Proud.”
Silence hangs in the air. From the corner of my eye, I catch our driver, Sam, who’s been doing his best to ignore us this whole drive, crack a smile.
“You know what? That’s valid. And also proves my point.”
“You’re right, I concede.” He bows his head in my direction and then lifts his index finger. “But at least Trudy is a human cartoon.”
I guess I shouldn’t tell him about Kovu from The Lion King 2 then.
For the rest of the drive, we alternate between admiring the view and debating the merits of crushes on animated characters until a private road leads us to a heavy gate that does little to hide the grandiosity of the house behind it.
The visible cameras on the pillars beside it must be a good deterrent for unwelcome visitors.
There’s a box on the driver side where Sam inputs a code that peels the gate back and allows us entry. As the car creeps up the driveway, Daria throws her door open and stands in the threshold with her arms wide.
“I feel like I just pulled up to the set of a dating show,” Micah whispers.
I agree with him as Sam opens my door, waits for me to step out, then hurries to the trunk for our bags before Micah can get his hands on them.
“Hi, gorgeous,” Daria calls out to me, wiggling her fingers in a small wave.
“Hi, beautiful,” I respond as I walk into her waiting arms. “Long time no see.”
She kisses my cheek. “I know, it’s so nice to see your face in person again instead of on my screen.” She then turns to Micah with an assessing eye. “And you must be Micah. Tanya said you were handsome, but she did not do you justice.”
He smiles as he accepts her hug and kiss. “Nice to meet you, Daria.”
“You too. Not to sound like a walking stereotype, but have you ever considered modeling?” The wheels in her head visibly turn, building an entire runway show around Micah right this second.
“Nah. I prefer to create the art, not be the art.” His eyes shift to me. “I like to leave that to the professionals.”
“I can relate to that.” Daria looks between us, but what she sees, I don’t dare to name. “Shame. You two on a stage or in front of a camera together would be something special.” Her unrelenting gaze bounces back and forth for what feels like an eternity before she gestures for us to follow her.
I allow myself to meet Micah’s gaze. It was supposed to be for only a moment, but the heat in his eyes sets my very skin ablaze, trapping me beneath the flames. It’s not until he takes mercy on me and relinquishes his hold that I’m able to move my feet in Daria’s direction.
She guides us inside to a bright foyer with high ceilings and hardwood floors. “I would offer you a tour, but I’m too excited. So, business first. Tour later?”
“Excited for what?” I question.
Daria’s brows pull together. “For you to see my creations come to life. And for you to finally tell me what they’re for. I’m surprised Tanya didn’t come with you. I just knew she’d want to see my face when all was revealed.”
My heart falls to the pit of my stomach. She doesn’t know. I look to Micah, searching for any way out of this. Any way to avoid being the one to tell her that Tanya’s gone, but I know it won’t come. This is our cross to bear.
“Daria.” Micah coughs into his fist. “Can we go somewhere and sit? I think we need to get on the same page.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m searching for signs of life in Daria’s unblinking stare after Micah and I broke the news to her about Tanya’s passing.
Her eyes lower into an unnaturally slow blink before she speaks. “She was an incredible woman. I’m sorry she’s gone.”
“Do you need a minute? Micah and I can always come back later,” I ask. I know how grief can chew you up and spit you out. The last thing I want is to force Daria on this road without giving her time to process.
She closes her eyes and shakes her head, reaching out to grab my hand. “No. I’m okay.” She lets my hand fall back to my knee as she gets up from the couch and stands by the fireplace. “Come with me.”
Micah and I follow Daria through the house until we reach the door to the backyard, where there’s a large pool that overlooks a beautiful mountain backdrop.
In the pool, three people follow the instructions of a man in navy-blue swim trunks standing on the grass nearby.
Their backs are to us, but I assume the man in the pool is older given his short white curly hair.
Daria doesn’t open the door, she just leans against it and watches them adoringly.
“My parents live here with me.” She points between White Hair and one of the women in the pool as they reach their hands to the sky and bring them back down repeatedly.
“And so do their full-time nurses. My dad has Parkinson’s, and my mom has Alzheimer’s, so they need more help than I can give them.
Tanya was the only person who didn’t make me feel crazy when I said I was moving them all in.
She understood the pain of watching someone you love deteriorate before your very eyes, and why as heavy as the weight of that is, I couldn’t hand it off to someone else.
” She wipes the back of her hand against her nose to hide a sniffle.
“My dad is losing control of his body while my mom is losing control of her mind, and there’s nothing I can do but watch and make them as comfortable as possible while it happens.
I appreciate Tanya for not making me watch her circle the drain too. ”
I’ve wondered countless times whether I would be handling Tanya’s death better if I had seen it coming.
Part of me acknowledges my tendency to spiral would’ve only made it worse.
The version of me that she’s left behind, however, is still screaming for some kind of rewind button. I admire Daria’s surety.
In all the time I’ve known her, I don’t think we’ve ever had a conversation that didn’t revolve around work.
Sure, we’ve shared funny stories about our pasts, but even those had the underlying pretense of our professional future—me sharing my experimentation with cutting my own bangs for picture day in middle school to try to stand out, her telling me about sewing her first dress with her mom and accidentally sewing it to her pants, and so on.
Never once have we shared anything deeply personal with each other, and yet, here I am standing in her house for the first time, staring at her greatest source of pain and joy.
All because of Tanya. Or rather, her absence.
I wish it hadn’t come to this.