Chapter 8 #2
“Yeah, I noticed those,” I said. They were all over the front of the shop, phones with a massive red prohibited symbol through them. Unfortunately, they only added to the charm. I’d already seen several people surreptitiously take pictures of the shop and the signs in the window.
“Does he still close up when he gets a call to be an extra on a show?” I asked.
That was common back in the day. You would show up on a Tuesday afternoon for pizza and there would be a sign in the window that said Gone Filmin’ on a wood plank.
Only in LA would a restaurant close so the owner could go stand in the background of a scene in The Nanny .
“He doesn’t do it as much as he did, but yeah, sometimes,” Mom said. “We actually had a job together a couple years back on Grey’s Anatomy . We were car crash victims and had to be in makeup for hours to get bloodied and bruised up. We had the best time.”
Benny looked at Mom adoringly and I stifled the hum of my irritation.
Mom was still taking work as an extra? What the hell was she going to do when she got older?
Who was going to take care of her? What about saving money?
Retirement? How long could she keep this up?
I could understand sticking with your dreams, but at this point, Mom was just being delusional.
I was reminded once again that the only person here who would be able to bail Mom out would be me. And now I didn’t even have a job.
Benny and Mom discussed some house repair project and I listened, trying to keep my mouth shut.
Benny was talking about a job she’d wanted to book that had fallen through.
The photography business she was trying to get going wasn’t exactly thriving as she’d hoped it would, but the only person that seemed to be bothered by that was me.
Yet again, I felt like the only adult in the room. What I said next seemed to fly out of my mouth.
“So, how do you pay the bills, Mom?” I asked sharply.
“Charlie,” Benny whispered at me, like a warning. Mom waved her off.
“Oh, don’t start, Charlotte,” Mom said, chuckling. “I get a job whenever I need money. Extra work, commercial spots, odd catering jobs that come in from old friends. You know I am a master manifester.”
“Or you’re just very lucky,” I said. “Don’t you think it’s time to get a real job and grow up?”
“Why should I grow up?” Mom quipped. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“It’s not about having fun .”
“Then what is it about, Charlotte?”
Benny’s head was pinging between us.
“Responsibility,” I replied. “Preparing for your future. What will you do when you get older and can’t book extra spots and commercials?”
“I’m going to make it, Charlotte. I know you don’t see the vision. But I do.”
“You’re right. I don’t. I’ve heard you saying that for my entire life and I keep wondering when your luck is going to run out.
Who’s going to take care of you when this doesn’t work in your favor?
Do you have money saved? Do you have an emergency fund?
A backup plan? I feel like I’m the only responsible one in this family. ”
“Is that what you think?” Mom asked. “You’ve spent your life afraid that something bad would happen, and it never has.
I’m really sorry for that, but have I ever asked you for money?
You may not believe this because it doesn’t look the way you expected, but I’ve always had things under control.
Everything was taken care of. You worried for nothing, and it was hard to watch, all that anxiety in my little girl.
But I think you just wanted a reason to leave for good.
You were a stressed-out kid and I just wanted to give you peace, but apparently all I did was cause you more angst.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, but Mom wasn’t looking for a response and I felt thoroughly chastised.
“Besides, I abandoned my home and my entire family to become an actress,” Mom added calmly.
“As you know, my parents vehemently disapproved of me moving to LA to act and told me I needed to get one of those ‘real jobs’ you talk about or marry some boring guy who could take care of me. I lived my whole childhood with people who thought they knew better than me, until I finally left. Do you think I can just give up that easily? I have to make that decision to leave mean something.”
“Charlie,” Benny chimed in. “Mom has a lot of auditions lined up. Her big break is coming.”
“Sure,” I said in a sarcastic tone, my cynicism a well-worn habit that I couldn’t shake off.
“Charlotte, I love that you’re skeptical,” Mom said.
“I really do. You’re ever the pragmatic Virgo and I am the fiery Sagittarius, meant for big things.
Every single astrological reading I’ve done has told me I will come into my career later in life.
I know you think that’s foolish to believe in, but I think it’s just as foolish to be whoever everyone wants you to be and make a plan that will never be certain.
I’d rather have my big—and to you, unrealistic—dreams. Personally, I don’t love being overly realistic.
Your grandparents were so prudent they hardly lived at all.
They died without ever doing a single thing outside their comfort zone or their responsibilities.
I promised myself I’d never do the same, even if it meant disappointing them, which I did.
They cast me out for following my dreams, refused to have a relationship with their grandbabies.
Those were the kinds of people I grew up with.
Your skepticism doesn’t ruffle me, Charlotte.
But it worries me. I don’t want you to be so practical that you don’t have a life at all. ”
I sat back in my chair, deflated, trying to figure out a reply.
I was the uptight Virgo, her the big-dreamer Sagittarius, Benny the peacekeeper Libra—I’d been hearing it since I was a kid, Mom using astrology to excuse herself from being a responsible person.
Like you could just tell your electric company you’re a Sagittarius who was meant for stardom and couldn’t pay your bill. Sure, that would work perfectly .
But before I could retort, in cinematically perfect timing, Ali dropped our pizza on the table right at the end of Mom’s audition-worthy soliloquy. She really was a very good actress.
“Enjoy!” Ali called out as he ran back to the counter.
Mom just looked at me, eyes bright, and said, “Let’s dig in, girls.”
And that was that. Conversation over.