Chapter 20 #2
“Just a little nauseated,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Fine otherwise. I can’t believe how blind you are, those things are a lot.”
“I didn’t mean from the sunglasses,” she said. “I don’t know what happened, but I don’t run shows where people get bullied and I let it slide. If anyone made you feel—”
“No,” I said quickly. “Sometimes people are annoying, but I’m not bullied. Can I even be bullied?”
“Yes,” Rebecca said. I couldn’t tell if she was saying it as my director or my—my something. “OK, I’ll let you get back to lunch.”
I appreciated that we could both be professional but at the moment it was tough not sitting down next to her and putting my head on her shoulder.
Back in the lounge, Ashlee waved me over. “Kathleen’s in.”
“Despite how I feel about zucchini lasagna,” she said with a raised eyebrow, which made me laugh. “You’d better at least have a pool I can put my feet in.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t have a pool. Is that a deal-breaker?”
“Jesus Christ, you’re a movie star who lives in LA and you don’t have a pool?
” Kathleen laughed, and Ashlee and I joined in.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. My home was such a sacred space and so were my honest opinions, and there I was sharing all of those things freely against my better instincts.
I was deeply concerned that I didn’t have better instincts, actually, just some little gay goblin inside of me doing her best to get out.
At home I rushed around making sure I had a decent selection of wines, that I actually had enough lasagna to feed three people, and that there was nothing incriminating that would lead my co-stars to guess that I was fucking the director.
I had plenty of time so I dialed Joyce. The longer this afternoon’s conversation rattled in my head, the more I was certain of what I was doing next.
“This is a nice surprise,” Joyce said, which I knew was code for not following procedure and setting the call up with her assistant during standard work hours.
“I hope everything’s going well with the play, and I also hope if you have any questions about your Plaid Thanksgiving contract that you’ll feel free to ask. ”
“No questions,” I said. “I’m ready to sign.”
“Wonderful,” she said, only the faintest tinge of surprise in her voice. “I know the team at Pantheon will be thrilled to hear it.”
I wondered if it should have felt like a big moment in some way, but deep down I guess I’d already known I was going to say yes. It didn’t feel like a celebration, but it didn’t feel like cause for mourning either. Platinum suit activated.
The gate buzzed early—weird for Ashlee, a fellow Angeleno, but perhaps not for New Yorker Kathleen—and I pulled up the app on my phone, seeing a delivery person instead. With flowers. Oh no-slash-I was the luckiest girl in the entire world!
I asked the delivery person to leave them at the gate, but I was still in the app when I saw Ashlee and Kathleen get out of a poorly parked Prius. There was nothing I could do but buzz them in and watch as Ashlee picked up the flowers.
“I can’t believe you,” she said as I met them at the front door. “You’re letting me whine about the indie film boy when yours is sending you flowers and doing—well, whatever he’s doing.”
“These flowers could be from anyone,” I said.
“Tess, your house is beautiful,” Kathleen said, as Ashlee commanded, “Open the card.”
“Thanks, Kathleen,” I said. “I’m sorry that it doesn’t meet your pool standards. I’m just not home a lot and I worry about Rosie—”
Rosie, upon hearing her name, ran in from wherever she’d—probably—been napping. Kathleen immediately knelt down to pet her, but Ashlee was still staring at me.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was so demanding. It’s really inappropriate for me to—”
“We’re coworkers,” I told her. “Sorry—I meant that we’re equals, not that it’s unprofessional. I hate being treated like Professional Actress Tess Gardner by people I actually know. Demand all you want.”
“Tess, I’m in love with this little beast,” Kathleen said.
“Yeah, she’s the best thing in the world.” I carried the flowers over to the kitchen counter, parked them exactly where last week’s bouquet had sat. “Do you two want a tour?”
I tore open the envelope as they agreed to it, holding my breath that Rebecca wouldn’t have suddenly become exhausted of our dumb bits and—god forbid—signed her actual name.
Ms. Gardner, Thank you for choosing us for once! xoxo The People’s Choice Committee
“Hmmm,” Ashlee said, which meant I was smiling like a fool.
“No comment. I’ll show you the backyard while it’s still light out.
” I led them outside, Rosie at our heels, and bragged about Andy’s work.
I asked them about their places, and found out Kathleen and her daughter lived in Astoria, while Ashlee lived with a roommate not too far from me in Koreatown.
The leftover lasagna sizzled in the oven when I brought them back inside, and I let it rest on the stovetop while showing them the rest of the house.
It had been so long since I’d shown anyone around, and it made me love the space more, thinking about Rebecca envying my closets the other day or Kathleen admiring the original wood flooring or Ashlee asking if she could take a picture of my rug so she could look for Ikea’s closest match later.
I hadn’t bought this place to Grey Gardens it with my dog, so it felt good to see more people in it.
The lasagna had heated up perfectly, and even Kathleen—much like Andy earlier in the week—agreed it was on par with regular lasagna.
“So we’re in the privacy of your home.” Kathleen sipped her wine once our empty plates were shoved to the middle of the table. “Can we talk about how Tess Gardner got her groove back?”
I nearly choked on a sip of Sangiovese as Ashlee cracked up. “Oh, stop it. Aren’t you too young for that reference anyway?”
“I understood it by context clues,” Ashlee said, as a smile slid across her face. “Last night the indie film boy texted me at two a.m. that he was lonely so please tell me how flowers can still be possible.”
“You didn’t go over, did you?” I asked, and she grimaced. “I mean, if it makes you feel better, I would have too.”
“Well, no, not if he’s terrible,” Kathleen said with a scowl. “Ash, darlin’, if you were also walking into rehearsal like you’d recently regained the use of your hips—”
“Kathleen!” I gasped as Ashlee dissolved into giggles.
“—I’d not only condone two a.m. booty calls, but I’d recommend them. But you only seem sad.”
“She’s not wrong,” I said gently. “It’s just that you’re amazing, Ashlee. You’re so talented and probably the kindest person in the cast—”
“And hot!” Kathleen said. “Young and hot! You could do better than this idiot.”
Ashlee waved her hand dismissively. “OK, spill, Tess. My thing has gotten so dull. You can tell Kathleen’s over it.”
“Eh, the novelty’s worn off, sure,” Kathleen said with a laugh. “I’m kidding. Though I do think Tess owes us some details.”
I wondered why none of this felt like a trap, why I wanted to say more than I normally might even think. “I hope this isn’t TMI.”
They both leaned forward as if they could already assure me that it wasn’t.
“I haven’t …” I paused to think about how to say something that was more physical than it was definable.
“I’d never had sex with someone where it felt so safe—like, emotionally—to do anything.
And it’s not as if the anything is better—the anything is like neutral—well, you know.
” I blushed and covered my face. “Better than neutral. I mean that it’s not about the specifics of what you’re doing.
It’s this safety to try anything, like you’re completely in it together. ”
“No,” Ashlee said glumly. “That sounds great, though.”
“Sweetie, I have so much empathy for you,” Kathleen said, turning to Ashlee as I sat there and wondered how I’d said as much as I had. About our director, at that. “When I was your age, I was struggling so much to get my shit together. It’s hard!”
I grinned and leaned back in my chair. “From your lack of comment about me, I assume by my age you already had your shit together.”
Kathleen shot me a grin. “Well, I had a child, so I was at least pretending to. No, it’s more that by that time, I’d gotten really comfortable being myself.”
The implication of her words buzzed in my gut.
“I can tell you try to be all things to a lot of kinds of people,” she said gently. “But you realize you’re enough as you actually are, right?”
“Truth,” Ashlee said. “Though at least Tess gives me hope that men can still send flowers and, I assume, text you at decent times of the day and night.”
I drew in a slow breath, took a sip of wine, turned my head to look out the window as I said it. I supposed that I was deciding to say it, but also it felt like I didn’t make a decision. I just did. “I don’t date men, actually.”
“Well, that’s really depressing,” Ashlee said. “So maybe it really is impossible.”
“No,” Kathleen and I said at the same time, and laughed.
“Kathleen, you’ve been very tight-lipped when it’s not about us,” I said, which made Ashlee laugh and took my mind off of the fact that I’d just come out to people I hadn’t even known for very long.
“Well, it’s nothing dramatic like the two of you,” Kathleen said.
“I have a guy in New York who I see sometimes, nothing too serious—well, maybe a little serious—which fits my life just fine now. After my divorce, I thought, not this again. But we met a few years ago and he wore me down by being, you know, charming and decent-looking and skilled at all the particulars. He definitely wouldn’t ever text me that he was lonely at two a.m., and, yes, I feel safe to do whatever. Or anything, as Tess says.”
“I should say,” I cut in, because it was like I had to, the words just wanted somewhere to go and the somewhere was out.
“My body is like … not my body so often. I don’t think of it as me, exactly.
I know that sounds … deranged, but someone is always styling me or fitting me or telling me exactly the size and shape I need to be so I can fit into a costume or a prosthetic and—I don’t know.
I don’t even pick out most of my clothes.
I didn’t mean to disconnect, or even really realize it had happened—I do yoga every single day! But lately—”
“Yeah, again, we’ve noticed,” Kathleen said with a laugh.
“It’s not just that,” I said, laughing too. “It’s being onstage again, being around all of you. I remember why I loved it so much. Not that I’d forgotten, but it’s different when you’re actually doing it. Today, being on that stage … I don’t know. It’s good.”
“What’s your something like?” Ashlee asked me. “Besides, apparently, thoughtful and good in bed.”
“Yeah, both those things,” I said, as a rush of warmth hit me. I hadn’t gotten to talk about her to anyone yet. Not that it wasn’t slightly dangerous, speaking of Ashlee and Kathleen’s director, too, but I was good at sussing out danger. Maybe too good. And I felt safe here.
“Funny, like really funny. So hot that sometimes I feel like she’s playing a trick on me. I don’t know what the trick would be but …” I shook my head and laughed. “Competent at everything, or at least it seems that way. I don’t know. Nice. To me and to Rosie.”
I thought about blurting out a request that they not tell anyone, but I already knew that they wouldn’t.
And so it was four people now who knew about me—well, five if Rebecca counted, why wouldn’t Rebecca count?
—and when I got into bed later that night I saw that Max had texted. I hope you had fun last night!
So much fun. Thank you and thank you to Sadie. I’m so glad I got to finally meet her! She’s extremely cute, though you’re probably aware.
VERY aware!! Rebecca is also great, and you’re probably also aware.
I stared at the message, feeling how Max knew, and wondering why it didn’t make me panic, why I wasn’t already composing a Yeah it’s great to have interesting colleagues and friends spin on it. Yeah, I am quite aware.
I had an idea but please feel free to tell me to mind my own business. Since you mentioned Ari Fox’s career the other day, I wondered if you might want me to set up a meeting with her? She’s Joyce’s client so I used to work with her, but at this point we’re technically just friends.
Yes, are you sure she’d want to? She’s very cool.
Tess, you think EVERYONE is cool. Like me, a person who is currently wearing a Dinosaur Block Party swag T-shirt and watching Frasier in bed. Yes, Ari will definitely want to take a meeting with you. I’ll get it rolling.
I said good night to Max, and thought, six, the new number of people who knew about me. And I was OK. I didn’t stress out about it. I just waited for Rosie to curl up behind me and we fell asleep together.