Chapter Twenty-Two
On Monday Dave started work on rebuilding the dock. I was relieved that he wouldn’t be directly in my view every second I
was at home, just occasionally hauling wood and supplies down the path in a big wheelbarrow. My tasks were simple, straightforward:
Do not chase him down the path and tackle him with kisses. Do not catcall him with objectifying language about his biceps.
Do not sneak over at night to “watch movies.” I could be mature. I could have self-control. Surely, it would be easy, right?
Still, I didn’t want to ignore him. Part of the deal was trying to know who he is now, not just the romance of the past. So
on Tuesday I brought him home some peaches from the farm stand. I caught him returning from the barn, picking hay off the
sweat on his arms. Kill me. Still, I stuck to the plan.
“Peach break?” I asked, holding one outstretched. He grinned.
“Absolutely.”
We ate them sitting on top the picnic table, side by side but not touching, talking through the mechanics of a scene in the
script, which he solved by asking me a question I had been too focused elsewhere to think of: What does she want that she
can’t have? It was absurd that he asked me that, without thinking of our predicament. But it was the right question to fix
the scene. Possibly the whole movie. I had gone to film school but Dave still had a natural inclination for how to tell a
story on screen that you lose once you’ve gone too deep into the academics of it all.
When my mom got back from her hike, we all made some small talk before she went inside to change before going out to hear an ecologist speak at the bookstore. We had resumed our regular relationship of chit-chat and avoidance after our big showdown.
We threw our peach pits into the unlit campfire.
“I guess I should get back to the dock,” he said. “Thanks for this. Sometimes I forget about the ‘words on the page’ part
of filmmaking. I just picture myself behind the camera.”
“I have the opposite problem,” I admitted.
“We’d make a good team. Artistically, I mean.” He blushed.
The next day I picked up Hailey at camp to drive her to the audition. When I pulled up, she was mid-meeting with Ben at one
of the little outdoor tables. They looked very serious. He’d agreed to meet with her before the Camp Firefly song and morning
greeting so that he could give her a pre-audition pep talk. When he gave her a parting fist bump, he caught my eye and smiled
wide. Sweet, straightforward Ben.
“You’re going above and beyond, doing this,” he said, giving me a big camp-style hug that lingered into slow dance territory.
“I had to go see my dad anyway. I’m happy to do it.”
“How’s the script going?”
“Actually, quite good. I had a revelation about it earlier. I think I know how to solve the last act problem.”
“I hope I have at least two nude scenes, you know.” He flexed his muscles two different ways.
“I’ll make sure of it,” I said. The truth was I hadn’t even thought about casting at all.
Other than the fake-dating dinner with my mom, Ben had backed off a bit from any seemingly real overtures or overt flirting. The campers did ship us, however, and we didn’t dissuade it. A few campers had fallen in love. It was adorable to watch them hold hands and giggle at each other.
Allegra was pleased to take over my writing workshop for the day—of course, like any interaction with Allegra, it ended up
involving prolonged eye contact and feeling a little off balance. Her arms were starting to fill up with friendship bracelets
the campers had made for her, and the bright colours were a fun contrast to her goth attire.
“Thanks for doing me this solid, Allegra,” I said.
“Sure. Could you write me a good review on LinkedIn, like, this afternoon? And be a reference for future jobs?”
“Sure, absolutely.”
“Great. I’ll follow up with you.”
More eye contact, and then she turned back to the campers as Ben began the Firefly cheer. The group then sang a good luck
song for Hailey. All the Heathers looked jealous, which appeared to make Hailey feel pretty great. I remembered that age,
the feeling that your whole career was always just one step away from taking off if one guy spotted you at the mall or saw
your videos on social media. She didn’t mind making a pit stop at my dad’s on our way back, a visit I felt weird about, given
what my mother had just confessed. I was trying to shake it off, be in the present, but both the past and the future felt
like wild dogs nipping at my heels.
Our only music in common was Taylor Swift, so we listened to 1989 and didn’t speak until we were on the edge of the county, when Jeff finally called me back. I pulled over into a gas station
in Trenton and talked to him on speaker.
“The producers want you back on the sequel to A Crush for Christmas. They’re very sorry. They’ll top up your rate and let you co-direct if you want. They’ve even agreed to bump up your production fee to the max. So can we say it’s a go?”
“When does it start?”
“Next week, possibly.”
“I have to think about it. I’ve still got two weeks here, and I can’t miss my sister’s wedding.”
“OK, but this is a very good deal. You’re not really in a position to be choosy right now either. The offers haven’t exactly
been coming in. Not since you turned down the teen alligator murder.”
“I didn’t turn that down.”
“Oh right, maybe I turned that down for you because they lowballed you so much, it was insulting to me. But I can give them
the wedding dates and we can work around it. They really want you.”
“Give me a couple of days to think about it,” I said. “Also, how can it possibly have a sequel?”
“They want a gay crush for Christmas.”
“Oh, that’s actually really rad.”
“I thought you’d be into it.”
“Any news about my film?”
He paused in a way that made me wonder if he remembered what film I was talking about.
“Sorry, no.”
“Listen, are you taking on any teen acting clients lately?”
“No, but Robert is.”
“Great, I got a client for him. I’ll send him an email.”
I gave Hailey a smile. She beamed.
Hailey’s audition wasn’t a cattle call, as I’d feared, but a fairly legit situation for a production company I’d interviewed at a number of times.
I sat in the long, airy hallway of a loft building on a fold-out chair with nervous-looking parents.
The other kids clicked away on their phones but Hailey sat rereading the script over and over, closing her eyes and mouthing the lines perfectly to herself.
“You’ve had that memorized for days, H. You’re going to rock it.”
When a harried-looking assistant came out and called her name, my heart raced for her. Though I knew the reality of the situation
more than she did. I could tell she was having her my dreams might come true! moment. I had competing instincts—to remind her of the odds so she’d be realistic, or to pump her up with confidence. I chose
the latter, which, when she didn’t get into the second rounds, seemed like a bad idea. I took her to Tom’s Dairy Freeze for
the best soft ice cream in the whole city, and she dutifully ordered a sundae but cried into it for most of the ride back
east.
“This is actually a great story for you to tell the rest of your acting life, because every single actor you see on screen
today has one of these stories. Most actors are terrific but the casting director just wants something very specific, like
a certain haircut or way a person moves. It’s not personal. I know you’re a good actor, Hailey. No one else at camp has been
to an audition like this, right? You’re a professional now.”
Her eyes brightened a bit at this. I texted my dad that we were on our way.
We pulled up to my dad’s place, the same drab townhouse in Oshawa he’d been living in since Kate left for university. But
now there was a beautiful garden in the tiny front yard and a welcome mat at the door with two illustrated cats on it. I always
felt happy to see my dad, even though we didn’t always have the most flowing conversations. He was generally delighted to
see me, often made the oatmeal cookies I loved as a kid, and asked about my work. He remembered details about my life that
my mother never did. And I liked to check on him. But everything about our interactions would shift slightly, knowing what
my mother had said on Sunday night.
I rang the bell, with Hailey at my side.
When he opened the door, a waft of warm vanilla and cinnamon from the cookies emerged.
My dad stood tall, with more silver grey in his hair than a few months earlier.
He offered me the same awkward yet exuberant hug, two arms raised high and several back pats after he’d kissed my cheek.
He’d put on some weight. He looked older but happier.
“This is Hailey, the camper I mentioned, who I was taking to an audition today.”
“Wow, wow, a famous actress in my house!”
Hailey smiled, despite her tear-streaked face.
He brought us into the front room, where his new girlfriend, Pamela, was standing, beaming nervously. She had bright yellow-blond
hair pushed back with a pink satin headband. What’s with all the middle-aged headbands? Everything about her fashion was garish
and kind of wrong, but I loved her immediately when she insisted on a hug and said, “I’m so excited to meet you finally! He
talks about you and Katie constantly. Let me get you both something to drink. What would you like, pop?”
Pop, in my father’s house, of all places. I followed her into the kitchen, which was now brightly infused with her influence,
I imagine. A gingham tablecloth, lilacs in a vase. A bird-themed calendar on the wall on the right month, with cursive handwriting
that said things like Valerie’s birthday dinner! and Line dancing at church!
“I didn’t realize you’d moved in,” I said.
“Not yet, but I have made a few little improvements around here, since I do stay over a few nights a week. My oldest son still