Chapter 32 Scarlett
SCARLETT
I have clients who talk about being “in the bubble.” It’s usually married women who miss that phase of being in love when it felt like she and her partner were inside a love bubble.
Floating around in the world, nothing and no one else could touch them.
There’s always such wistfulness in their tone, occasionally anger.
Because something always pops the bubble.
It’s not always another person. Life happens.
As a marriage and family therapist, I mostly see couples after their bubble has burst.
My client Mia is currently in the love bubble with an older Australian man.
It’s the first time I’ve ever been in the bubble at the same time as a client.
We have both spent the holiday season with our guys.
Newly in love, cocooned inside the warmth of a city that is quieter and slower in the winter.
It’s mid-January now, and emerging from the cocoon without popping the bubble is a real concern.
She is even younger than Dylan, and Marty is older than I am.
It is in some small, selfish way a relief to hear that she is nervous about being too young and inexperienced for him.
That she worries he will meet someone more sophisticated than she is and lose interest in her.
I am very good at assuaging her fears. They are the mirror image of mine.
But it’s my job to help her navigate her feelings and fears.
You’d think I’d be so much better at dealing with my own.
Mia was my last session for the day. Noah is with my parents, Dylan has had appointments all day, and I’m supposed to meet him for dinner in an hour, and then we’re going to a screening at the Director’s Guild.
It’s not a big premiere or anything, but it would be our first public event together.
No red carpet, but there will be photographers at the reception before and after the film.
It has been years since I’ve been the plus-one at an event like that.
I’m nervous. I definitely should not have had so much coffee today.
He has to leave for Big Bear in a week and a half, and I think we’re both getting a little anxious about it.
But we’re also trying to spend as much time together as possible, and he has to go to this screening to support the producers of his upcoming film, so I’m going with him.
And I’ve only thrice imagined a photo of us on the cover of the LA Times with the headline: Beautiful model/actor Dylan Brodie arrives at DGA screening with aging divorced mom therapist who is promptly sent to Hollywood prison for wearing a three-year-old Banana Republic sweater and leggings with dog hair all over them.
I check my phone but don’t find a text from him. Instead, there’s one from my best friend, Lenora.
LENORA: Are you okay?
ME: Yes? I think I’ve had like nine cups of coffee today, but other than that I’m fine.
LENORA: Oh good! So you’re not upset?
LENORA: I mean—you shouldn’t be! I was just checking.
ME: Upset about what? I’m a little mad at myself for drinking so much coffee I guess.
LENORA: Um. So you haven’t heard about Dylan’s movie?
ME: What about it? Oh no. Did it fall apart or something?
LENORA: No. Calling you now.
I answer as soon as her name comes up on my phone. Before I have time to wonder why I haven’t heard from Dylan since lunch or why my friend would be asking me if I’m okay or if I’ve heard about his movie. “Hi. What’s going on?”
“Hi. Nothing! It’s fine. I had a break at work, so I checked the trades online. Don’t look it up. I’m sure he’s just waiting to tell you himself.”
“Tell me what?”
“They finally cast the female lead opposite Dylan. Do you know who Tabitha Kane is?”
That is not so wizard. It is so not wizard. This news is the exact opposite of wizard.
“Yeah, of course.”
“I guess she really blew the director and producers away, and they figured since the characters were each other’s first loves…”
Pop!
“And it sounds like there are some pretty racy scenes.”
Splat!
“Racy?!”
“One of the actresses I’m working with right now read the script. A lot of actresses were dying for that part, you know?”
“I didn’t know.” I wasn’t getting a strong Wi-Fi signal in the bubble…
“Well anyway. It’s just a movie.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s only…what…a month-long shoot? I mean, you’ll still see him all the time, right?”
“They’re shooting on location in Big Bear.”
“Oh…” As a makeup artist for film and TV, Lenora usually knows before anyone else on set who’s crushing on or hooking up with whom.
The cast always opens up in the hair-and- makeup trailers.
So she knows. She knows exactly how likely it is that two attractive unmarried stars will have a fling—especially when they’re on location, out of town.
It can be like sex camp for the entire cast and crew.
“I was planning to visit him once on the weekend. I had talked to him about taking Noah up too.”
“Yeah, well, maybe try to go up every weekend. And maybe leave Noah with Adam three out of four times so you can bone your boyfriend more.”
“You know I can’t leave town four weekends in a row.
It’s a two-and-a-half hour drive. I can’t be that far away from Noah every weekend.
And I’d have to drop the dogs and hamster and fish off at my parents’ place and then pick them up again every week.
” These are very outside-the-bubble thoughts.
This is not how hot girlfriends think. I bet Tabitha doesn’t have to worry about whether or not anyone other than her is happy or fed.
I bet she never has to clean up anyone else’s poop.
“Well then, have a lot of Skype sex. Like a lot of it. Really dirty, filthy Skype sex.”
“Okay, first of all, I don’t even know what that would entail, and secondly he’s the star. He’ll be working a lot. He’ll have a lot of scenes with her. Naked ones, apparently.”
“Well, they’re just scenes. It’s just acting. He’s madly in love with you now.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We all know that’s true. Tabitha’s publicist will definitely spin this as a first love reunion. But that’s just PR.”
“She’s single?”
“Oh yeah. Very. But that’s irrelevant because Dylan is not single. Right?”
“Right.”
“Just don’t Google them. Like when they were in puppy love. It’s stupid cute. In a totally gross way. And the girls who ship them are clearly insane.”
“There are girls who ship them? Now?”
“Well yeah, when they watch Wizard on the Disney Channel. Dylitha is probably the dumbest ship name I have ever heard.”
I might throw up.
“Scarlan makes much more sense. Or Dylett. Or Scarodie. Nope. Sounds like a nickname a dude would give his scrotum. Never mind.”
I would love to think about how I’m one half of the nickname of some dude’s scrotum instead of picturing myself in line at Ralphs and seeing a picture of Dylan kissing Tabitha on the cover of Us Weekly.
“Did I lose you?”
I will not lose myself to my amygdala. I will stay in the present moment, aware that there is no real threat in front of me. I will breathe in the here and now, breathe out the ex-husband and Dylan’s entire romantic history.
“I’m here.”
“Okay… Well, in other news…” She’s going to change the subject and try to cheer me up now. Good luck to her. “Guess who I found out is gay and I like him so much better now!”
A couple of minutes later, we hang up, and I have no idea who’s gay because I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the punk mom garage band in my head.
Why why why why whyyyyyyy/Why can’t the actors I date or marry work with really unattractive actresses or married lesbian actresses?!/AND FUCK YOU ADAM!!!
I call Dr. Keller and leave her a message asking for an emergency appointment, ASAP.
Until then—what would I tell myself if I were a patient?
I would say, This physiological fear response you’re having is not a reaction to a real current threat.
You are safe. You are loved. Dylan is not Adam.
Now is not then. You don’t know for a fact that Dylan’s penis will find its way inside Tabitha’s vagina, so stop making your brain think it’s already happening.
Stop making your brain prepare for it to happen.
And you look great in that sweater and leggings.
Let’s talk all of this through. Here. Don’t tell anyone I keep this in my desk drawer, but…
have a glass of wine. Take two; they’re small.
I get a text notification from Dylan, and my eyes start to water, the tip of my nose tingles.
My entire face starts tingling. I refuse to cry in my office.
I won’t do it. I can’t be vulnerable in here.
It feels like my ears might be tearing up now.
Is that a thing? My armpits are definitely crying. This is bad. This is very, very bad.
DYLAN: Hey babe. We still on for dinner and the screening? We have a lot to talk about.
DYLAN: That wasn’t supposed to sound bad. I meant: We have a lot to talk about! Yay!
DYLAN: But seriously. Looking forward to dinner alone with you tonight.
I can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t go to a screening with him and have pictures taken of us together and then one day years from now, my son will Google me and see photos of Dylan and me placed next to photos of Dylan and Tabitha with the caption: Dylan Brodie with insecure unidentified older woman at an event—one week before rekindling fling with white hot former flame and co-star Tabitha Kane.
I can’t have dinner with him before I’ve processed my feelings about this.
ME: Hi! Something just came up, actually. I’m so sorry, but I need to take care of some things. Is that okay? Can we do dinner tomorrow?
ME: I meant: Looking forward to dinner with you tomorrow if possible! Yay!
DYLAN: Everything okay?
ME: Yay!
ME: I meant yes! I’m so sorry for ditching you at the last minute.
ME: I don’t mean ditching you like, you know, ditching you. I just have to take care of some things tonight.
DYLAN: You don’t sound okay. You sound nuts.