Chapter Four #4
“I’m considering staying here, taking that theatre camp gig.”
Marlon’s eyes grew wide, and then narrowed.
“O-kaaaay,” he said. “This is very unlike you, Elise. Should I be worried?”
I paused for a moment. Was I acting crazy?
“No, I don’t think so.”
Later that afternoon, we left the beach sun-kissed, sand-exfoliated, and a tad delirious. The car seats were hot, so we layered
them with wet towels. The air was stifling until we drove slowly down the beach road, when a lazy breeze came in through the
windows. Hazel and Yasmine were mumbling about going home the next day, the work week ahead.
“Have you ever done something this impulsive?” I asked Marlon.
“I’ve never made the decision to move anywhere in twenty-four hours, no.
But, I suppose, when I really wanted to work in props and I was finishing up an internship, I quit my job at Lids and basically followed the art director around a party trying to charm him into giving me a gig.
And it worked. I knew in my gut that I needed to make a change. What does your gut say?”
“I never know what my gut says.”
Sarah and her three best friends had joined us midway through the day and were now squished into the limo and directing us
to a restaurant they knew we would just love—they’d read so much about the outdoor wood-fired pizza oven. Sarah had taken
over communicating with our mom, and she was meeting us there. Only when I looked out the window, as the car slowly made its
way up a forested hill opening to a meadow of horses, did I realize where we were. Ben’s family winery from the night before.
“We went here last night,” I said.
Marlon and Kris laughed.
“Great minds, I guess?” Hazel offered, seeing Sarah’s face drop.
“Oh no, I made us reservations at the big outdoor table. I thought it was special! I read about it in Toronto Life. Should we go elsewhere?”
Kate grabbed both of Sarah’s hands and looked her in the eye. “No, honey, you’re so excited. I’m sure it will be great. We
really just drank here last night, this is a whole new thing.” I knew she was disappointed, but they were so good to each
other. In that moment, it was clear she was prioritizing Sarah’s feelings. It made me happy to see them have each other’s
back so consistently, like Kris and Marlon. They gave me hope, and occasional pangs of jealousy and impatience, about when
I would find my better half one day, where we could maintain our independence but also choose each other’s happiness as much
as possible.
When we got out of the car, I stopped to refresh my lipstick in the rearview mirror. I popped my lips together and realized,
Oh no—I’m excited that we’re back here. Not for wood-fired pizzas but because I might run into Ben again.
As soon as we were seated outside around a beautiful vintage table, I paid only marginal attention to the chit-chat and the menu.
I was on guard until I saw the busboy, two servers, and a bartender, and none of them were Ben.
I felt a disappointment that was hard to square logically with the amount of time I’d known him.
I had a crush.
Oh no.
Luckily the group was large enough, and contained enough strangers, that my mother wasn’t the worst right away. The sunset
over the hills was like our own personal movie. The campfires lit up as the pink skies settled into grey and navy. We finished
our asparagus salads, mostly talking about Sarah’s rowdy party the night before. My mother looked preoccupied and checked
out the way she often did in social gatherings unless she was causing shit. The pizzas landed on the table when my mother
realized, I suppose, that I was present.
“I’m so happy for Sarah and Katie,” she started, loud enough that most people stopped talking and looked to her, as though
she might be starting a speech. “Katie was always the sister who could see the bright side, and always forgive, you know?
You need that for a marriage. The ability to forgive,” she said, motioning to the server to refill her wine.
“Wow, Mom, ten outta ten for subtlety,” I said. Sarah shot me a look like Don’t egg her on, and Marlon laughed.
“I wasn’t talking about you, Elise. Not everything is about you. Writers always think people are talking about them.”
“Actually, people always think their writer friends are writing about them.” She’d watched a few of my movies on Christmas
and always whispered, But I’m not like that about several of the mother characters.
“Well, Katie and Sarah have hard-won relationship skills we could all learn from, that’s for sure,” Hazel offered. I could imagine her in that moment using the same social MacGyver moves she used on mental patients in the ER.
“I’m gaining a third daughter, it makes me so happy. And Sarah actually calls me!”
“Addicted to my phone, I am,” Sarah said, most of the blood draining from her face. “How’s your pizza, Arlene?”
She’d barely touched her pizza. It wasn’t wine, after all.
“It’s lovely,” she said.
“I hear you’re quite an accomplished biologist,” Hazel said.
“Yes, it’s been a hard road, you know, for a female research scientist.” She looked at Sarah’s friends, all masculine, as
though they’d appreciate her feminism. They stared blankly at her. “You really have to be like Elise and not think about men
at all. I mean, when was the last boyfriend you even had? It sure doesn’t look like you’re trying with that haircut. But you
know, if I had organized my life priorities like Elise when I was young, I’d be much further ahead, that’s for sure. Though,
honestly, I hope she doesn’t end up as pathetic and alone as her father. You don’t want that, do you honey? Do you even have
a date to the wedding?”
Kate squeezed my hand, both as comfort and a warning, but before I could gather my wits to hit back, I felt an arm around
my shoulder.
“Well, Elise here isn’t alone much these days, are you, honey?” And that’s when Ben kissed me square on the mouth. The kiss
we would’ve shared as Ian and Cassie in rehearsal. It wasn’t real, but I could feel it in my toes. When he pulled away, he
addressed my mother, delivering the sucker punch I’d been about to throw.
“Hi, I’m Ben, I guess Elise hasn’t mentioned me yet. It’s OK, I’ll get over it. I’m an actor, so you know, writers have to
keep us humble.”
He reached out his hand to a bewildered Arlene while sitting down on the bench next to me as though he’d been invited. What the hell? But I’d taken a few improv classes. I could “Yes and” with the best of them.
“You know, it’s hard to know when to introduce a new date to the family. I didn’t want to take away from Kate’s big weekend,”
I said.
“We do love Ben. He’s full of surprises, aren’t you? One of those aw-shucks country boys, heart of gold,” Marlon said.
“Hey, Marlon,” Ben said, as though they were best friends and not just casual work acquaintances.
Sarah looked stunned, offering out her hand to Ben.
“I haven’t met you yet, I’m Sarah, and this is Regan, Mal, and Crissy,” she said, pointing to the butchalorette crew.
“And you know everyone else,” Kate said, trying to keep up with the ruse. Katie was always the worst actor, so I appreciated
her even trying. My mother, however, could fake her way through anything. But she seemed honestly caught off guard.
“So, how did you two meet?”
“Well, it’s the cutest story, actually. We were on set, and—” He went on to explain how we did meet, literally less than forty-eight hours previous,
but in the story, it was months ago and he ended up kissing me in the director’s trailer once I got the sexist director fired. It was a real revenge fantasy, and I was the star. I sat there beaming like an utter idiot,
picking roasted eggplant off my pizza and wondering how we were going to keep this up. At the end of the story, he grasped
my hand and squeezed. It made my whole body feel warm.
When the server arrived with more wine, I excused myself to go to the ladies. I was awash in so many contradictory feelings—repressed
rage at my mother, desire for this near-stranger who had kept my rage at bay, exhaustion from having to play pretend fine all day and night for the sake of sisterly harmony.
It was a lot. The bathroom was inside the winery’s main building, a converted barn with a bar on one side.
Past the bar, there was a hallway leading to the bathrooms, but instead of turning right, I went through the exit door, which opened out behind the building.
Because I wasn’t blind drunk like the night before, I could take in my surroundings.
There was a circle of chairs around a makeshift campfire, a coffee can of cigarette butts.
The view from this rest area for the staff was a meadow in full bloom, flat for a few acres, until it rolled down into a valley and up again into a wild forest. The small huddle of horses I’d tried to drunk-befriend stood at the top of the flat part of the field, backlit by the bright moon rising against the clear sky, halfway to night.
I took a deep breath of fresh country air, exhaling slowly.
Then I heard the door close behind me and turned to see Ben.
He grinned. He was always smiling like someone just told him climate change was over.
“What was that?”
“I couldn’t stand the way she was talking to you! I figured I could be your fake boyfriend for the wedding.” He shrugged,
as though romantic hijinks were no big deal.
“You’ve been in too many romance movies.”
“I was the star of The Christmas Ruse! but it did seem to work, didn’t it?”
“It did, and it was so kind. But what do you get in return? Seems like a bum deal for you.”
“Well, I have this feeling about you, this intuition. You’re going to make it big. Someday I’ll say I knew you once. This
way, I’ll either have a cute story to tell about our summer of fake romance, or I don’t know, maybe we’ll fall in love.”
He winked at me. I was in real danger of climbing him like a tree and trying to make out with him if he winked at me again.
I moved a little closer to him. I felt like there were laser beams of desire between us.
“I mean, that is a good meet-cute story.”
“Just promise me you’ll write me into your next real movie, like not a Christmas movie but something I know you’ve got cooking up. A part just for me. I’ve always wanted that.”
My heart sank. Of course.
“Sure, that sounds like a good exchange,” I said. I swallowed my disappointment. He was a good actor; it was entirely possible
this desire between us was imagined. Maybe he had turned it on like an actor can. I tried to think of it positively. Even
if he didn’t also have a crush on me, this was a good exchange. It’s not like I’d be offering him a part he couldn’t handle.
And writing for someone specific might be an interesting creative challenge.
“Plus, it’s not such a bad gig to spend more time with you. Even if you won’t date me for real,” he said, winking. Oh right! My crush had gotten so big that day, I’d momentarily forgotten that I was the one to turn him down last night.
“Also maybe it’s not really a favour to me. But simply a logical plot point in the narrative of our fake relash. You teach screenwriting to my little genius theatre geeks all summer, and write your movie in your cabin, and get away from
the city!
“I was daydreaming about it all day. This is a beautiful place to have a little break from my regular life.”
“I mean, what is there to do in the city when you’re unemployed? Go on bad Tinder dates and wait to be renovicted?”
“You’re not wrong.”
“I’m so glad you’re in?”
I took a deep breath.
“There’s only five days left of shooting for me anyway, and then we’ll be at summer camp for five weeks. Who doesn’t love
that?”
“I feel a little like I’m being kidnapped, and a little like I’m Kate Hudson in an early aughts rom-com about to change my
life.”
“Not a bad precipice to be on, I’d say.”
“When is the cabin available?”
“Tomorrow, if you want to move in right away.”
I truly had nothing else to do. Why not start this adventure right away?
We shook on it.
We went back to the table for dessert—mason jars of strawberry tiramisu—and my mom slipped out quite quickly after. We all
sat around the fire, too full to move and emotionally decompressing.
“So that is your mom,” Hazel said, eyebrows raised. Everyone tittered uncomfortably.
“She’s a lot like my mother,” Kris offered, “wants attention but can’t ask for it, so ends up like, lashing out. I wonder
how they’d get along, those two.”
“Thankfully your mom never leaves New York so we never have to know,” Marlon said. His in-laws were a sore spot. But of course,
Marlon’s mom loved Kris like her own son.
“You know, I learned a lot from the book Emotionally Immature Parents,” Val said. Kate shot her a look, but she raised her hands up and continued. “Basically, most white parents born in the fifties
kind of fit the bill. They were raised by people mostly traumatized by war, never taught to regulate or even identify their
own emotions, punished for expressing them. It helped me deal with my own mom. I feel much more at peace now that I’ve read
it.”
“I definitely need to read it, then,” Kris said, looking up the title on his phone. Though clearly Kate felt put off by the
comment, I felt seen by it, and supported.
“No one’s family is perfect,” I said, “except maybe Marlon’s mom.”
Ben joined the fire. Marlon and Kate let him have it.
“What was that, Mr. Handsome?”
“I don’t know, felt like the right thing to do!”
“OK,” said Kate, cautiously, “but I’m watching you, Prince Charming. I don’t trust the smooth ones.”
“I look forward to proving myself,” he said, winking.
It was so fun to play fake relationship through dinner that I felt almost disappointed when it was over. He was so believable,
part of me believed it. He didn’t walk me to the car and kiss me goodnight. But I suppose we had the whole summer ahead of
us for further shenanigans, real or theatrical.