16 EVIE
E VIE
There are some decisions you make in life that you know at the time may be questionable.
I was still concerned about the boundaries thing at that point, and it weighed heavily on me during those early times and particularly on that day at the beach.
I was sensitive about it and afraid of how it might look.
When you choose to ignore your intellect and follow that inner voice, it takes a little effort to quiet the chatter of the cynic inside you, judging your every move.
It’s an act of consciously choosing to trust that maybe life has some bit of playfulness hidden around the corner.
So you take the chance and quiet the voice in your head and think with your heart instead.
It’s important to do this sometimes. Because otherwise, it’s impossible to move forward.
To live. Otherwise, we might as well just give up.
An impetuous decision, perhaps, but the best one I ever made.
Carter showed up in my driveway in a black Jeep Wrangler that day, looking at me from behind dark sunglasses, saying hello with the kind of smile that is full of oceans of meaning. Like our seeing one another again was an inevitability.
We talked about work—both his and mine. “Getting to make your way doing something you love. It’s a rare gift, isn’t it?” he said.
I told him about the stacks of Rolling Stone and Creem magazines—old ones, new ones—at home when I was growing up.
Even a few Melody Maker s when I could find one.
I’d read those incredible profiles that had been done in the ’70s on Zeppelin and the Stones and the Who, and I loved seeing into that world.
We talked about the upcoming project a little, discussing other films. Things like Hype!
and The Last Waltz . I’d just seen what Dave Markey had done with Sonic Youth and the festival tour in Europe and at my recommendation, he said he’d watch it.
“I saved up money to buy a used VHS camcorder and spent most of my weekends going to shows in town. And that pretty much sums up the social life of my teen years,” I told him.
He laughed and shook his head. “You and Tommy will get along famously.”
“Really?”
He looked over at me. “Yeah. You’ll see.”
A moment later, he asked, “Did you grow up here? New York?”
“No, I’m from a small town north of Philadelphia. I moved here after school.”
“No boyfriend waiting at the end of the day, then?” He darted a glance my way, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Okay, I can see we’re going to have to get this out of the way,” he said when I didn’t answer. “I have an idea.”
“Yes?”
“How about for today, we’re just ... two friends.”
“Friends?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Okay ... two very normal people hanging out, heading to the beach, chatting about life. No band. No story. No film. No interviewer and interviewee. Just us. Carter and Cameron. Deal?”
“Sounds messy.” I didn’t like messy.
“It doesn’t have to be. Our professions don’t define who we are.”
I worked very hard at keeping things tidy and structured. It was how I maintained peace in my life. Maybe I tried too hard sometimes.
I thought about it and finally replied, “You’re right.”
“Good. That’s settled.”
“But ... one thing?” I added.
“Yes?”
“My name’s not really Cameron. It’s Evie.”
He burst into a laugh. “Ha! I knew you didn’t look like a Cameron! Evie ... short for Evelyn?”
I nodded.
“Evie,” he said again, softly. I liked the sound of him saying it. It was so rare that I heard my name those days. Even Derek called me “Cam.”
“That’s very pretty. I like it. Suits you much more. Why don’t you use it?”
I told him that an androgynous name had been helpful in pitching stories, which it was at the time.
There were other reasons I preferred anonymity, but I kept those to myself.
The only people in my professional world who knew my true name were the payroll personnel, and they couldn’t care less if my name was Minnie Mouse.
Evelyn Waters was one person. Cameron Leigh was another.
“An alter ego. Very intriguing.” He smiled.
“And also ... no,” I said finally. “No boyfriend.”
“Good to know.” He gave me a sideways look, and the corners of his mouth turned up just slightly. “Surprising, though.”
He fumbled with the radio a bit before the sounds of the Psychedelic Furs’ “The Ghost in You” began playing.
“I love this song,” I told him.
“Oh, well, now I know it’s meant to be,” he replied, and I glowed inside.
As he drove down the coastal road, he started to sing along, his voice melting into the wind. A song about newspapers lying and loss and times gone by, how falling for someone would be so complicated in the world of public life, and of stars and of love ... love.
Now that I think about it, it’s funny, that song on that day. Little prescient messages from the universe.