Chapter 16
I went through my own Samsung in case anyone was desperate for a Windswept Pine or Muted Nutmeg I was his protégé and maybe his crafts project, as he assembled a capable human being from pipe cleaners and popsicle sticks.
But kindergarten was over. I’d passed the preliminaries.
I’d have to work so much harder. But something was burgeoning, if still out of reach.
I was beginning to form a (gulp) grown-up personality, and set priorities, beyond amorphous and standard showbiz daydreams. I was the young Tom Hanks, moving from sitcoms to features.
I was Timothée Chalamet, trimming his hair to play a boot camp recruit.
“You’re Deer Hunter Meryl,” said Reggie, confounding me as always. “Getting closer to Kramer vs. Kramer.”
Was Reggie mocking everything about me, or meeting me halfway?
Because Deer Hunter was one of Meryl’s breakthroughs, and then Kramer was her first Oscar, for Best Supporting.
I’m not comparing myself to Meryl, but her career is a great guide to anyone’s personal milestones, like those pencil markings of a child’s growth spurts on a doorjamb.
Reggie’s phone buzzed and he put it on speaker.
Marcus was calling: “I found the Atropos Emerald.”