Chapter 14 #2
At the airport, Camille and Grayson bought coffees and waited to be called.
Their first-class seats were perfectly lovely, with plenty of legroom and nice flight attendants at their beck and call.
Almost immediately, Grayson fell asleep and didn’t wake up till thirty minutes before the plane was set to land.
Camille laughed at him from across the aisle, tucked into her own blanket, watching a television show on her screen that Grayson didn’t recognize.
“Last flight for a while, and you slept through it!” Camille teased him.
But that was fine with Grayson. Despite having flown hundreds of times, he’d never fully grappled with the concept of flight. It still terrified him. He was happy to have his feet on the ground.
From Paris, Grayson had arranged for Camille to have an apartment not far from his in Manhattan, a quaint one-bedroom from which she could start over and think.
But when they got on public transit to return to the city, Camille yawned wildly and asked if she could see his apartment first. Grayson guessed that she didn’t want to be alone in a strange place. He didn’t want to be alone either.
Their flight had left at ten in the morning Paris time, which meant they staggered into Grayson’s apartment a little after noon New York time.
Camille escaped to the guest bedroom to shower and change into a pair of cozy sweats, while Grayson caught up on his emails.
It was only then, as he scrolled and scrolled, that he realized Camille was right.
Nobody was talking about his private flight to Paris any longer. Water Works could continue.
Public opinion had a short memory. The planet did not. It remembered everything: every plastic bag tossed into the ocean and every turtle captured in a plastic ring. The earth remembered what humans forgot.
As soon as Calvin saw that Grayson was back online, he called to update him on the company’s situation. “Welcome back, man,” he said, his voice jocular and overly arrogant in Grayson’s ears. “We missed you over here!”
Grayson slid his tongue over his teeth and fantasized about a time when Calvin had been an acquaintance rather than someone so closely involved in Grayson’s dream. They couldn’t go back now. “Hey, man. How are you?”
Calvin explained what had happened with the company, how they’d bounced back from Grayson’s private flight fiasco, and which influencer they’d decided on for the upcoming commercial.
It was a woman Grayson had never heard of, an influencer with three million followers. “It’s going to be great,” Calvin said.
Grayson thanked him, thinking of Will and Ella and the promises he’d made.
Back in the ’90s (and into the 2000s and onward), their music had been incredibly important to Grayson, to how he saw himself in the world and how his heart had developed.
He wanted to make sure that Will and Ella still understood that.
He got off the phone with Calvin, took a bated breath, and dialed Will’s number.
He didn’t expect him to answer as quickly as he did.
“Hey there.” Will’s voice sounded strained. It was clear that he was hurt.
“Hi,” Grayson said. “I’m sorry to call so late. I understand you spoke with my colleague about the commercial?”
“I did, yeah. I’ll be honest. I was disappointed. But I get it. You have a company to run. You have to get the message out to as many people as you can.”
Grayson guessed that Will had been practicing this narrative in his head.
Grayson decided to be more than honest with Will, to open up to him in a way he felt he couldn’t with his colleagues. He wasn’t sure why.
“It’s been a crazy time,” Grayson confessed. “I learned my daughter was really struggling over in Paris, and I had to get over there as soon as I could. Obviously you know that because my private flight was photographed and plastered all over the internet.”
“I saw that, yeah. Ella figured it was a family emergency or something.”
“Your wife has good instincts,” Grayson said, touched that Ella had had such empathy. “I ended up bringing my daughter back to Manhattan with me. Maybe, if we find a way to work together down the line, you’ll meet her.”
“You don’t need to worry about the song,” Will said. “Ella and I are okay.”
“No, Will. You don’t understand.” Grayson closed his eyes and thought back to those long-ago days in Manhattan, before he’d gotten the call from Genevieve, the one that had changed his life forever.
“Your music, the music of New York in the ’90s, is the soundtrack of my life.
I used to rock my daughter to sleep to your albums. I used to write your lyrics down in odd notebooks, wishing I was brave enough to live a life like yours. ”
Will was quiet. Grayson wondered if he’d overstepped.
“I appreciate that, man,” Will said finally. “I never tire of learning how our music has affected people. It’s been my life’s work.”
Grayson smiled softly. From where he sat, he could hear his daughter, ruffling through things in the kitchen, maybe searching for a snack. Outside, snow fluttered down, not enough to worry pedestrians or drivers, but just enough to lend that Christmassy feel.
“What are your Christmas plans?” Grayson asked suddenly, surprising himself. He wanted to stay on the phone with Will.
“My mother-in-law is throwing this enormous Christmas party in a few days,” Will said.
After that, he explained what the Copperfield House was, what it meant to his wife’s family, and how many artists and writers and musicians had come through its doors over the years.
“Many of the artists are coming back to celebrate. The Copperfields think of them as extended family members. And Ella and I are going to perform.”
Grayson closed his eyes and imagined an old Victorian home, stuffed to the gills with electric and fascinating people, people happier and more alive than the ones he’d spent the past three decades of his life alongside.
Money didn’t make anyone interesting, although moneyed people tried so desperately to make you think it wasn’t so.
“Actually,” Will said tentatively, “I’d love to invite you. You and your daughter. I don’t know if I officially get a plus-one or a plus-two, for that matter, but I’d like to do it anyway. It’s a big Christmas party. Everyone’s welcome.”
Grayson let out an ironic laugh. “You don’t need to do that.”
“I want to!” Will sounded sincere and young, although Grayson knew he was in his forties, just like him. “Really, it won’t be a problem. Do you have plans in the city?”
Grayson admitted he didn’t. He imagined himself and Camille, sitting quietly in this very apartment, opening a few gifts and watching television. It would be cozy. It would be fine.
“I’ll talk to my daughter,” Grayson said finally. “Who knows? Maybe she’ll be up for it.”
Will laughed. “Tell her my mother-in-law makes divine French food. She’ll feel right at home.”
“I don’t think she’ll feel at home with all that joy and love around,” Grayson admitted. “But I can’t imagine that either of us will turn down any French delicacies. I’ve been back in New York for only a couple of hours, and I’m already missing them.”
“Sounds like you’ve already convinced yourself to come,” Will said with a laugh.