29. Anna
ANNA
My jeans aren't buttoning. This is happening.
I stand in the closet staring at them for a long time. Then I put on leggings and one of Luke's sweaters and go downstairs.
Nina looks at me when I come into the kitchen.
She doesn't say anything.
I pour myself juice.
Alex calls and says he needs to come over.
I'm still standing at the counter in Luke's sweatshirt when he shows up twenty minutes later, phone in hand, eyes red.
"Did you see it?" he says.
"See what?"
"Check your phone."
I open Instagram. "I've been trying to stay off social."
Alex's face. A post. Simple. No dramatic caption, no speech. Just a photo of him smiling and the words.
"I've never said this publicly before, but I'm gay. I'm happy, I'm at peace with who I am, and I wanted to share that with everyone."
"Alex."
"You see the comments. My family is so pissed off. They acted like they had no idea."
"You didn't tell them first?"
"They knew. You said so yourself. Everyone knew. I just needed to say it."
He shows me his phone. Texts from his mother. His brother.
"I meant everyone in class," I say carefully. "Family is different. They see you the way they want to see you. From these messages it doesn't look like they knew."
"They knew and now they're pretending they didn't know — and the problem is how I came out."
"Maybe that's what they're upset about."
"Bullshit."
"Alex, you should have told them first."
"You're taking their side."
"I don't know them. I'm just saying—" I put his phone down.
"Social media isn't real life. I think you did it that way because you were scared to tell them face to face.
And I get that, it's hard. But your mother deserved to hear it from you.
She's not angry you're gay. She's angry she found out the same way everybody else did. "
He's pacing.
"The response from everyone else has been incredible. People are happy for me."
"Strangers aren't your mother or brother."
"I came here for emotional support."
"I'm sorry. I'm just being honest."
He grabs his jacket.
"I'm leaving." He stops at the door. "And by the way — you're putting on weight. I think you're eating your emotions because Luke's gone. Just being honest."
He leaves.
What the fuck.
I throw myself on the couch.
He's right though. I'm at the tipping point where people will start asking. If Delia sees me she will ask for sure.
I pick up my phone. Check my emails. No auditions. I'm glad.
A missed call from Luke.
My phone rings. It’s Luke.
"I want you to come," he says.
"Okay, I mean, yeah. I don't know if I can."
"You don't want to come?"
"No, yes. I do. I'm just really busy right now. Send me dates and I'll look at flights."
"Jen was here. She's coming back in a few weeks. Maybe you could coordinate with her?"
"Yeah. I'll see what she's up to."
"She says she's reached out a couple of times."
"I said I'll call her."
"Are you okay?"
"Fine."
I change the subject. Ask how he feels about the movie. Danny. Max. I avoid Rebecca. The action scenes are unbelievable from what he's seen in the dailies.
Chloe comes over later that week.
She's been quiet. Quieter than usual. I noticed, but I didn't push.
She sits at the kitchen counter with her coffee and looks at her hands before she says it.
"I'm going back to New York."
"To visit?"
"No. I'm moving back."
"When?"
"End of the month. I have friends there doing theatre. Off-Broadway. It's actually good." She looks up. "It's what I always wanted. Before all this."
"Chloe. That's amazing."
"I keep waiting to feel like I'm giving up. I don't. That's how I know it's right."
"I'm going to miss you. What the hell am I going to do without you?"
"I'll come visit and you can come too. You know New York."
Something moves across her face. She looks back down.
"What?" I say.
"Nothing."
"Chloe."
She's quiet for a moment.
"I've been thinking." She chooses her words carefully. "You've met a lot of people this year. Manager. Agent." A pause. "You never offered to introduce me to any of them."
"It just didn't occur to me."
"You introduced that Priya girl to your manager."
"She asked me. And Delia hated her anyway."
"I didn't want to be one of those people asking a friend." She says it simply. Not accusing. Just putting it there. "I just thought you'd think of it."
The kitchen goes quiet.
"Chloe, I didn't know you wanted that."
"I know. I'm not blaming you. It's just hard to ask. When someone you love is suddenly in a different world and you're still in the same place."
"I'm sorry," I say. "I should have thought of it."
"You were going through a lot."
"That's not an excuse," I say.
She nods slowly.
"I'm not angry. I just think New York is right. I've been trying to fit into something that was never going to fit." She looks up. "You fit, Anna. You always fit here. I was just hoping I would too."
I reach across the counter and take her hand.
"I don't know what I'm going to do without you."
"We'll FaceTime."
"It's not the same."
She squeezes it. We hug.
I go to class. It's been weeks.
It's good to have somewhere to be. Joe says he can see I've put in the work.
Class runs late. Joe goes to the bar across the street after. Half the class follows for overpriced tacos and margaritas in glasses the size of fishbowls.
I end up squeezed into a booth with three actors from class and a guy who booked two episodes of a cop show and has somehow managed to bring it up six times.
Everyone is talking business. The same conversation we've been having for years. The difference is now I'm at the top of the pecking order in this group and it feels strange.
"I saw your scene," one of the actors says.
"Which one?"
"The hotel room. With the husband. Good work."
"That's the job."
"Sex scenes are hard," Joe says. "No pun intended. Nobody likes them."
"Think of it as a compliment," he adds. "They're not having you take your clothes off if they think the audience is going to flip the channel."
Someone looks at me.
"Are you going to Morocco?"
I nearly choke on my drink.
"We're looking at the schedule," I say.
I eat more than I should.
I'm at the stage where I need new clothes. Some things don't fit and the ones that do look like I'm trying too hard.
I go shopping alone.
The Grove on a weekday is manageable. I move through the stores slowly, pulling things off racks and putting them back.
Everything I try on tells the same story.
I find two hoodies and a pair of loose linen pants that work and don't look like I'm hiding anything. I tell myself that's enough.
I'm walking back toward the parking structure when I stop.
A children's store. The window is full of small things — tiny shoes lined up in a row, a soft mobile hanging from a display hook, onesies folded into neat squares with animals on them.
I stand there.
There's a yellow one with a duck on it. Ridiculous. Soft looking. The kind of thing that exists specifically to make a person feel something.
I press my hand flat against my stomach through my coat.
The door opens beside me and Jen walks out with a shopping bag, Penelope's stroller rolling out behind her guided by Brian who has apparently been promoted to stroller duty.
"Anna?"
I drop my hand.
"Hey! I thought I saw you in there through the window," I say.
She looks at the window. Looks at me.
"I was just passing," I say.
She smiles. Not unkindly. "Come walk with us."
"Of course."
She tells me how great Morocco was. How happy it makes her that Danny and Luke are getting along so well. She confides Danny looks up to Luke like a big brother.
I almost ask about Rebecca. But I don’t.
Jen is juggling snacks, toys, and two kids with opinions about everything. She has enough to manage without me handing her my insecurities about Rebecca.
"First time seeing Rebecca in person," Jen says. "She's so gorgeous it's hard not to look. I kept telling myself to look away." She laughs.
Then she asks when I'm going back and whether I want to coordinate with her. It would help with the kids on the flight.
"I'll let you know," I say.
"Don't wait too long," she says. "You know the flights get expensive if we wait."
Then Brian makes a break for the fountain and Jen is gone, both kids in tow, the stroller rattling across the cobblestones.
I stand there for a moment.
Then I go find something that fits.