Chapter 14 Liz
Liz dunked a packet of herbal tea into hot water and set up her at-home workstation at the kitchen table.
She told herself: Today was the day she’d find a job!
In the weeks since she and Victoria had gotten back from Fresno, Liz had been energized to the task, partly to make her friend proud of her.
Liz had sent out her résumé upwards of forty times, applied for more than a dozen jobs, and spiraled towards an existential breakdown on multiple occasions.
As she scoured job listings, sending out queries at the hyperactive pace of a tennis ball machine, Liz tried not to think of Angela’s mantra: Manifest, manifest, manifest!
Liz poured a packet of stevia into her mug and shook off her mother’s incantation like it was a mosquito.
Preston had told her that Angela mentioned she might be coming into town soon, but Liz hadn’t heard from her mother personally and “soon” could mean anything to Angela.
Regardless, Liz had received this update from her boyfriend with dread.
But Liz had bigger concerns than the usual drama her mother brought with her.
If Liz didn’t land on a lead soon, she’d look into temping, although that wouldn’t provide the health insurance she needed, and her CObrA extension was available for only six months.
Even though Liz understood Victoria’s message—wait tables or do whatever else she needed to do to collect a paycheck until her ideal position materialized—Liz seriously doubted anyone would hire a pregnant woman when scores of aspiring actresses and models were clamoring for service positions, a.k.a.
jobs where looks were leveraged for tips.
“Hey, babe,” Preston said as he came into the kitchen, dressed in a suit that immediately announced his occupation, in Los Angeles, as either an agent or a lawyer.
“Morning,” Liz said. She watched him go about making his grass-fed, ghee-infused coffee.
She had tried it once and gagged so violently she thought she might bruise her throat.
Butter coffee was repulsive—to hell with its benefits for cognitive function.
Also, hadn’t that whole trend peaked years ago, along with the Master Cleanse?
“What’s on tap today?” Preston asked.
“Same thing. Desperately seeking employment.”
Preston looked over at Liz while using an immersion blender to emulsify every disgusting ingredient in his keto coffee. “I’ll follow up with my guys in the feature department and see if they can hook you up with something. Sameer’s gotta be able to help.”
“I hate to ask for favors…”
“Babe, this town is built on favors! It’s the only way anything gets done.”
“I guess as long as you don’t feel weird about it…
” Liz buried her face in her mug and questioned why she felt conflicted about Preston’s offer.
She was grateful, but she also felt pathetic to have to resort to her boyfriend pulling strings…
even if it seemed like Preston delighted in his proximity to said strings and, even more, to the greater web of a network they formed.
“Obviously I want to help,” Preston said, taking a long, ritualistic sip and savoring his revolting morning beverage.
“And again, I respect that you want to work. I’m all for it.
But I don’t want you to stress. I’ll support you as long as you need.
And if you want to take some time off and focus on the baby, I’m all for that too.
My mom didn’t work and she was perfectly happy. ”
Liz decided not to point out that Preston’s mother had opted out of the workforce in favor of tennis games and country club lunches, not involved parenting.
Also, did Preston think Liz was anything like Cricket?
Because if so…that would be problematic.
There was a greater chance of Liz becoming a literal cricket than of her resembling Preston’s mother Cricket.
Liz’s head suddenly ached. She asked him, “Are we still planning on going down there on Sunday?”
“Yeah! They’re excited to see us.” Despite Preston’s insistence that his parents had been surprised, yes, but pleasantly surprised to learn they were going to be grandparents when he had told them over the phone a couple months prior, Liz was nervous about the upcoming visit to her quasi in-laws.
She didn’t know the Lancasters well but could guess they were the kind of people who leaned hard into conventions.
Like marriage before baby. The first time Liz had met Preston’s parents, Preston’s dad crowed that their country club now boasted three Black families in its membership ranks and Preston’s mom announced that “a gay” did her hair before informing the table that love is love.
“We’ll have lunch at the club. Piper and Brooks are coming too,” Preston said, scooping up his phone and car key, off to another fantastic day rolling calls at the office.
Liz smiled weakly. “Great.” Preston’s sister Piper was maybe even more intimidating than his parents with her flawless porcelain complexion, haughty and indifferent horse-girl air, and laundry list of accomplishments: Junior Olympian in jumping, high school valedictorian, Princeton undergrad followed by Columbia Law.
Preston gave her an appraising look. “Why do you look weird?”
Liz froze. “What do you mean?”
“When I said my sister was coming, your face got all wonky. Do you not like her?”
“What do you mean? I barely know her.” Thanks to social media, Liz knew Piper’s favorite brand of cocoon sweaters, where she liked to have date nights, and the names of all her best friends, but that was irrelevant. “She’s your sister. Of course I like her.”
“I know she can be a little…” Aloof. Unapproachable. Arrogant. “Tough, but that’s only typical protective-big-sister stuff.”
“Wait, what do you mean? What has she said about me?”
Preston reddened. “Nothing.” Liz looked at him imploringly. “Nothing bad!”
“So your sister disapproves of me. Terrific.”
“I never said that!”
“You kinda did, though.”
“No—she likes you, and look, I told my parents not to tell her about the baby, so it can be a fun surprise. It’s going to be great.”
Liz didn’t think this sounded so great, but what was she going to do?
It was Preston’s family. She was still obsessing about it, though, when noon rolled around and she decamped to the local coffee shop, saying hi to her favorite barista, a twentysomething with facial piercings and green streaks in his hair who wore his sense of self effortlessly.
Axel recognized her now that she had become a regular.
He called her “Blueberry Muffin Mom.” The blueberry muffins were covered in frosting and should’ve been classified as cupcakes, but since the morning had been less than stellar, Liz allowed herself a consolation pastry.
She was nibbling and scrolling through LinkedIn when a flash of expensive silk in her peripheral vision caused her to whip her head up.
“I thought I might find you here,” Victoria said, sitting down across from her.
“Hey! I’m so sorry last night didn’t work out,” Liz said. She and Victoria had been trying to arrange a double date since they still hadn’t met their significant others, but after finally finding a date that worked for everyone, Preston had a work thing come up and they had to cancel.
“Don’t worry,” Victoria said. “It happens. But I wanted to see you and make sure that you weren’t drowning your sorrows in an extra-large latte.”
“I don’t know why I’d do that. Except I’m unemployed, pregnant, and got an email from The Catch’s legal team threatening to slap me with a restraining order if I say anything else disparaging about Cam or the show. Guess I can’t count on him as a reference.”
“I’d be severely concerned about anyone who valued the rapey hack’s opinion,” Victoria said.
Liz gave her a small smile. “How are you doing?”
“Okay,” Victoria said, tilting her head as she considered the question. “I’m still processing everything.”
“It’s really good you went.” Liz didn’t say that she had wanted to bitch-slap Victoria’s sullen, contemptuous mother and her insipid sidekick, Jimmy.
How could Victoria’s family treat her like that?
Liz thought back to her fifth-grade school performance of The Wizard of Oz, when she and Angela were living in Oregon.
Liz had landed the role of the Tin Man and practiced her lines for months, all the while silently pleading that Angela wouldn’t yank her out of school, dragging her to some illusory new life before the weekend of the show.
Liz had been so relieved to make it to the stage, her face coated in shiny silver face paint, her limbs encased in aluminum washing machine tubes; she was practically high as the curtain rose.
She remembered scanning the audience for her mother’s face, the bright stage lights making the task difficult.
Before she could lay eyes on Angela, the production began.
Liz hadn’t missed a line. She nailed every cue.
She evinced no shred of the stage fright she’d feared might be her downfall.
At the end of the show, parents swarmed Liz’s classmates with praise and cellophane-wrapped bouquets.
Liz waited for her mother to appear. She stood alone in the auditorium for what felt like an eternity.
No one noticed the girl who had remembered every one of her lines about not having a heart.
Finally, Liz had retreated backstage and rubbed her face raw trying to remove the silver makeup.
“I’m glad I went too,” Victoria was saying. “It also gave me a chance to clear the air with Jen. I don’t think we’ll ever be close again, but I said my piece and it seemed like she appreciated it.”
“Will she be at the baby shower on Saturday?”
“She doesn’t know if her husband can handle all three kids for the weekend but she’s trying to get her sister to pitch in so she can come.”
“That’s great,” Liz said. “Are you excited?”
“Excited for it to be over.”