Chapter 19
Nineteen
Lou
“The great thing about getting older is that you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been.”
Madeleine L’Engle
“Happy birthday, Lou!” The shouts come in unison as I step into Grady’s house the night after I return from New York.
It was another long travel day, filled with the stress from today being the day I begin to tell my story.
Along with the jet lag that always comes from coast-to-coast travel.
All of that is forgotten with my small surprise party the Steeles have planned.
Sam is here, too, with a few of his poker friends. And Ruthie from the bookstore.
“Jerry wanted to be here, but he’s on a call,” Grady says as he leads me further into the house.
“This is amazing, and so unexpected,” I say, swiping at my leaking eye. I’ve celebrated birthdays before, of course. However, it’s been years since someone planned anything special for me. “You guys didn’t have to do this.”
“Of course, we did,” Paige disputes. “It was your birthday yesterday and you had to work.”
She’s dressed up in a rainbow of tulle bedazzled with glittering sequins, her hair in loose braids that I know she’s done herself.
“You look fabulous,” I say, kneeling to hug her. “And your braids are perfect.”
“Thank you! I got you the best present. I can’t wait for you to open it!”
“I brought you a present, too,” I tell her, pointing to the bag I dropped by the front door.
“Can I open it?”
“Of course, go get it.”
I greet everyone else, thanking them for being here, while Paige drags the bag over to my feet and starts to pull items out.
“Oh, my goodness! Dad, look! It’s a whole head!”
“I’m sorry, what?” Grady asks, choking down the stuffed mushroom he’d just popped into his mouth.
“A head! An entire head! Oh, she’s pretty!
” Paige pulls out the mannequin head with her long, red wavy strands of hair, a gift from the stylist that was on set at the shoot yesterday.
I was telling her about my new little friend and asking for tips on things to teach her next.
She offered to set me up with a whole kit of styling tools for her to work with.
I couldn’t refuse, knowing how it would delight Paige. “How did you find a whole head for me?”
“A friend of mine, who does people’s hair for a living, gave it to me when I told her about you.
She said if you’re ever in New York, you are to go see her and she’ll teach you everything she knows,” I say.
“Until then, you have this. But only when I’m not around, okay?
If I’m here, you use my head, not Edna’s. ”
“Edna? Is that the head’s name?” Grady asks.
“It is, but you can change it if you don’t like it,” I tell Paige.
“I like it,” she says, pulling out the smaller bag that is full of bobby pins, hair ties, and various clips. “We’re going to be good friends, aren’t we, Edna?”
Immediately, she sets Edna on the coffee table in front of where Gray sits.
With her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth, she meticulously lines up all her new tools, telling her grandfather what each one is for.
He loves her enough to pay close attention and asks her things he already knows the answers to.
“Well done,” Grady says, sliding up beside me and placing his hand on the small of my back.
“She and I understand each other, I think,” I tell him. We’re both just girly enough but aren’t afraid to get dirty. “I like your family.”
“They like you, too.”
“Any more news from the attorney?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. His gaze turns worrisome. “They meet tomorrow.”
“It’s going to be good news,” I say, hoping I’m not saying anything false.
“I agree,” says Maggie. “We’re not going to worry tonight. Tonight, we’re going to celebrate Lou. Tomorrow, we’re going to celebrate sandcastles and take whatever news comes to either of you, as a family. Now, come eat.”
Maggie leads me to the spread of food that, quite obviously, she’s planned with my diet in mind.
Grady is a meat and potatoes type of guy, as is his father, I’ve noticed.
But this feast is fit for a model’s diet.
There’s a huge Mediterranean salad, grilled shrimp skewers, and so much fresh cut fruit I could weep with how delicious it looks.
Once everyone has a plate full of food, Sam comes to sit next to me.
We’ve become friends, as he seems to be everywhere, all the time.
He’s the pillar of Stowaway. The salty old-timer who knows everything that happens to everyone and watches over the town like a hawk.
He makes everyone his business because this town is his business.
If he sees me around, he makes a point to come and chat. I don’t mind it, at all. His grumpy facade actually makes me smile because I know what a teddy bear he is underneath it.
“You ready for the chaos to start tomorrow?” His question shakes me, momentarily, until I remember he isn’t talking about any kind of online shit storm from me releasing my police report and photos.
“The sandcastles bring chaos?”
“Yes,” he says with a pronounced frown. “It’s the start of all the uppity idiots from the city rushing to the coast in droves, acting like fools.”
“Surely, it’s good for business, though,” I argue.
“That’s the only good thing about it,” he says.
“It is great for business,” Ruthie chimes in from the other side of the table. “We make most of our yearly sales in the three months of sunshine we get.”
“See, it’s not all bad,” I say.
“It’s not,” Maggie agrees. “The festivals are fun.”
“I don’t know,” Grady says. “I’m inclined to agree with Sam.”
“That’s only because the influx of people means your job gets busier.”
“That’s reason enough,” Grady says. His chosen career is much less stressful in a small quiet town than it is in a busy metropolis, and I know that’s how he likes it. “I’m the one who has to patch up all the drunk idiots.”
“And then, those same drunk idiots want to buy up land and build monstrosities that they’ll only use for two weeks in the summer. It pisses me off,” Sam says.
“Everything pisses you off, old man,” I tease before popping a cherry tomato into my mouth and enjoying the burst of juice.
“I like my quiet, is all,” he says, sounding disgruntled, but he sends me a quick wink. “After the sandcastles, it’s kites, then, it’s the oyster festival, then, the Renaissance Fair. Though, that one is at least a bit further out of town.”
“Oooh,” I coo with excitement. “A Renn Fair?”
“It’s so fun, Lulu,” Paige says, squirming in her seat. “We can go together. This year, I’m dressing up as Robin Hood.”
“I’ll put the dates in my calendar right now,” I say, digging my phone out of my pocket. “So that I’m sure not to book any work for that time.”
There’s an unread text.
Vivian:
It’s done. I’ll handle everything. You let me know if anything comes your way.
Me:
Thank you, Vivian. Truly.
I tremble as I type back the message. Everything changes, now.
My voice will no longer be silenced. I’ll be loud.
Proud. Not of how I ended up in the situation, but of how I got out.
Proud of how I’ll be controlling the narrative of my own life, now.
Not him. Not that sad, weak man that I gave so much of myself to.
Proud that I’m taking my power back.
Or finding it. Finally.
My life is mine. How dare a man try to dictate how I am to feel for the rest of my days? I won’t let him, or anyone, bring me so low again. Not ever. No matter what this brings, I’ll find joy every day. If for no other reason than to spite him.
“See, I told you she’s even prettier when she smiles,” Paige whispers to Maggie.
I look up to see she’s looking at me. She’s talking about me.
It will be easy to find joy here. With Grady, with Paige, with Sam and Ruthie. Within this town that built walls around me in my darkest moment and only let the sun shine in.
Here, I’ll find that happily ever after that felt so elusive all my life.
“You missed it,” Grady says much later, after everyone has either left or gone to sleep. We’ve found our way to what is now my favorite place in the world, the sandy ground behind Irma’s house. Wrapped in a wool blanket, I’m curled up in his lap.
“Work? Yeah, I did miss it,” I answer. “I love the artistry of some of the shoots. Besides, I’ve never been great at being idle for too long of a stretch.”
Pierre would never have let me, even if I’d wanted to.
Keeping me busy gave me more status, which gave him more in return.
It also meant he could do what he liked while I was away.
Not that he ever let my presence stop him from doing anything, but at least when I was gone, he didn’t have to deal with my “tantrums” afterward.
Of course, a simple frown was a tantrum to him.
Because it gave him a reason to punish me.
Once, he claimed I was pouting. If I had been, I hadn’t realized it.
Regardless, Pierre found it as an affront and dragged me to the bathroom to wash my mouth out with soap, as if I was an unruly child.
It wasn’t the first time, or the last. The soap was one of the easier punishments to endure.
Punishment was control. The longer I’m away from it, the more I see it for what it was. It’s clear as day, now that my blindfold is off.
“I can see that about you,” Grady says. “Everything went well, then?”
“It did. The photographer was a woman I’ve worked with before.
She takes beautiful photos. I’m excited to see how they turn out,” I say.
“Meeting with everyone about how to move forward was tiring, but it also feels like I’m out of stasis, you know?
It was hard to move on from it because I hadn’t made any moves of my own.
I was still letting things happen for me or without me.
Now, my attorney is moving ahead with a civil suit, all my emails from Pierre will be forwarded to their office. And I blocked my mother’s emails.”