After the Reunion (37 page)

They didn’t care that the apartment was dark; all they cared about was that they would be together. She had always been good at fixing up places, and she knew she could do a lot with the space. She wouldn’t miss the country. New York would be her place to roam now. For an instant she remembered those years long ago in New York, when she and Richard were first living together before they were married, in their tiny apartment in Greenwich Village. Everything had been so new and wonderful and romantic; she was confident that they had such happy lives ahead of them; if only she could keep the secret of her illness, if only he would divorce The Waitress and marry her, if only they could have children … All those “if onlys.” The memories dropped away without regret.

It was all as new and exciting as it had been the first time. No, it was even more so; because this time she had never expected any of it.

Chapter Thirty-two

June, 1984

I am a New Yorker, and since yesterday afternoon I have a stepfather and a stepsister and a stepbrother. Life is amazing. The wedding was really nice. I didn’t know how I would feel about it, even though I like Michael, and I was nervous, but after the wedding I didn’t feel any different than I did before. The only change is going to be getting used to living together, but since this is the first time I ever lived in New York and the first time in years that I won’t be away at boarding school, I can get used to everything at once.

Trinity accepted me for this fall. Jeremy, my stepbrother, goes there, and so does the son of my mother’s friend Chris, who is named Nicholas, so I already know two people. Sam wants to stay at St. Martin’s and then go to Harvard where Matthew is going, so in between their school vacations I’m going to be here all alone with this new family, except for my same old mother of course. (The “old” is a joke.) My mother said she was really happy that I decided to stay with her instead of going back to St. Martin’s, but that she didn’t want to pressure me either way. I feel that if I’m going to be a writer it would be good experience for me to live in New York where so many things are happening, and Trinity is supposed to be a very good school. It will also be good experience for me to have a normal family, not that I’m any judge of what that is. (I see that I said “good” three times in the last two sentences, which is something I wouldn’t do if I were writing my novel instead of this secret journal. Louis L’Amour was interviewed on the radio and he said using the same word over and over is the thing he changes when he revises his books, so I guess that’s a problem writers have. I’m going to have to watch it.)

Michael talks to me like I’m a real person with opinions of value, and he also
listens
. He and my mother are obviously very happy together and in love. There is no tension around here anymore. Cathy is my age, and since she lost twenty pounds for the wedding she’s slinky and pretty. It will be excellent to have her for a friend because I don’t know what to say to girls, and when I’m ready to start going out with them I’ll have to talk. She and I like the same music and the same movies, and even most of the same books, and we both hate math. She admitted that she doesn’t know what to say to boys either, because when she was fat none of them would ever look at her except to say cruddy things. I have decided that between childhood and sex there’s this great big gap, and we’re in it.

My father came to see me today. The apartment was still full of flowers from the wedding. My mother and Michael are in Europe on their honeymoon trip and Matthew and Sam left this morning for The Wilderness Adventure, which is something Nicholas recommended very highly, so here I was alone with him.

“So your mother got married again,” he said. It was a comment, not a question, so I didn’t say anything. “Do you like him?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Your mother is a person who should be married,” he said. He walked around looking at the apartment, which he had never seen before. “Dark, isn’t it,” he said. I didn’t say anything. The truth is I never really noticed. “But big,” he said. I nodded. “Some people really need to be married,” he said. “Some don’t.”

“I guess that means you’re not going to marry your girl friend,” I said.

“Which one?” he said.

“The lawyer.”

“Oh, well, we don’t see each other anymore,” he said. “She wanted to get married and have a baby. She’s young; that would be nice for her. I already have children.”

Yes, I thought. You have the Senator, whom you pretend you don’t know, and you have Elizabeth, who is supposed to be a secret, and you have Jonathan, whom you never mention, and you have the three of us.

“When do you start camp?” he asked. I told him and then he took me out to lunch and to see
Ghostbusters
. I loved it, he hated it. I think he wishes we were all back in the country playing touch football. I don’t. I’m perfectly happy the way we are now. I’m not the one who made our family fall apart, and I’m not the one who put it together again, but that’s the way it is when you’re a kid—you just get swept along. The strange thing is, I think my father feels that’s the way it was with
his
life as an adult. I don’t think he realizes he had anything to do with it. I think he honestly believes that everything that happened to us was just some kind of ironic destiny.

Chapter Thirty-three

By the end of May they were almost finished shooting the picture. Kit was half relieved and half sorry. The relief part was because all through the filming her whole life had been directed toward the work; there was nothing else, no one else, only the total concentration to put herself into her character’s skin, to open herself, to be emotionally truthful, even to bring up things that hurt and use them. At night she fell into bed exhausted at half past nine, turned off her phone and let the answering machine take the calls—and then all night she dreamed about her part and the other people. She had to get up at five in the morning, but she didn’t mind, she was ready, her mind already active with the new day’s challenges.

On weekends, with her head still full of the part, she had to drag her stuff to the laundry and the cleaners, take a double yoga class both days to keep in shape, buy groceries, and then, finally, study the script. Her father made her let Adeline come once a week to clean her house while she was on the picture, since Kit didn’t have time. Kit agreed only because she wasn’t there anyway and it was convenient. Ordinarily she didn’t want Adeline, or anyone else, hanging around when she wasn’t working; especially Adeline, since she could carry stories back to her parents, and was always full of gross free advice. But now that her parents were divorced and her father had Adeline full time, Kit figured he wanted to get rid of her once in a while for the same reason. She could just imagine the kinds of parties he must be having in his house.

Or maybe he was just being a solicitous father. She didn’t know anymore. Figuring out a part made her understand more about human nature, that people could be both good and bad in the same instant, so her work made her know more about life instead of the other way around.

But the main reason Kit knew she would be relieved when the filming was over was not because of the single-minded discipline, but because of the fear. All through the picture a part of her was always afraid she hadn’t been good enough, because this was the most important role of her life. But then, at the end of every day, Zack told her she had been wonderful, and she felt fantastic. The day was over, she had survived, and he was pleased. He was the authority; she was not. Even when
she
thought she had been wonderful she wasn’t quite sure. But after Zack reassured her, she would sail home on a cloud of utter rapture. She had survived. She had not failed. She had accomplished something important. She was talented, special. She didn’t have to worry again about not being good enough until the next morning.

But those few evening hours of totally relaxed and relieved rapture were exactly why she would be sorry when the filming was over.

That feeling was better than even … sex; which was the best thing she knew. After sex she felt relaxed and satisfied, but never so totally happy and flying. Even when the sexual encounter was a conquest, it was never as triumphant a feeling as the one she had when she knew she had done acting she should be proud of. Her acting was her identity.

One day Zack asked her if she wanted to come see the dailies.

“I don’t know,” Kit said, scared.

“You never ask,” he said, “so I thought I’d ask you.”

“Maybe I’ll hate myself,” she said.

“If I thought you would I wouldn’t invite you.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

He seemed to have totally forgotten about the hideous incident in the pool at that brunch party, and she had even managed to put it away in her file of things that didn’t matter. He was apparently having an affair with Emma’s mother, who had told
her
mother, who told her, that she was very good in the dailies, but what did they know anyway, civilians? Zack was the only one Kit believed.

Kit sat in the screening room watching herself. Then, suddenly, it wasn’t herself at all, but someone else; and she had total objectivity. That person was fascinating, beautiful. She would want to know that person. You would really care what happened to her.

Then the lights came on again and she just sat there thinking:
I am fantastic; I did exactly what I set out to do
.

“Nice work,” Zack said.

“I could never have done one bit of that without you,” Kit said.

“An attitude I like,” he said laughing, and patted her on the shoulder.

But then, too quickly, it was all over, and he was in the editing room and she was back in reality. He summoned her again to dub a couple of things, which was nice, but the picture was finished, or at least her contribution to it was, and all the free time in the world couldn’t make up for what was gone.

It was summer, and she knew she had to start looking for something new, but she felt too drained. She found a boyfriend, a comedy writer. He made her laugh and he had funny friends. He wanted to write something for her. Let him dream on, she didn’t do comedy. She called her agent to see what was around.

“Wait,” her agent said. “I hear good things about the picture you just did. Let’s hold out for something big.”

In September the rough cut was ready for the studio to see. After they saw it the executives got all excited, and the studio publicists started to work on the advance publicity right away. As soon as Zack would finish the final cut the studio was going to rush to put out a token early showing so they could get nominated for this year’s Academy Awards. They were talking about how she was definitely going to get a nomination for Best Supporting Actress.

Best … Supporting … Actress! When she thought about it Kit felt so precious and miraculous that she had to move very carefully so nothing bad would happen to her. She wanted it so much that she didn’t even dare pray, because how could you pray for something so selfish? But people did pray for love, and for happiness, and for success, so why not she? Being nominated would be all of those things. Zack had said this picture would make her a star, and she had always believed it would, but here was the closeness of the reality, and it was far better than she could ever have imagined. She told them she would be glad to do any publicity she could to help.

The next thing she knew she got a phone call that she was going to be interviewed for
People
magazine, for a piece they were doing on the hot new talent for the winter movie season, including possible Oscar contenders. There was a good possibility it would be the cover story, although of course nobody could say positively yes so soon, and if
it
was on the cover there was an equally good chance that
she
would be the one whose picture was on the cover. It was all happening for her; she felt it now, she was sure; here was that momentum.

“They want to interview you and your mother,” the press agent said.

“My what?”

“It’s a cute idea—the two of you. Of course the piece will be mainly about you. But they want to show something about where you come from; and your mother’s interesting with her new store opening in New York soon, and the other ones … what is it, Chicago and …?”

“Dallas,” Kit said. She couldn’t believe it. Her
mother
. She knew how well Emily’s Cookies was doing, and how fast it was expanding, and she’d even seen her mother being interviewed on television, looking very attractive and chic and talking like a confident person instead of that whiny groveling creature Kit was used to, but … her mother in
her
interview? How ironic. “What about my brother?” Kit asked.

“Oh, sure, they’ll probably take a picture of the three of you. I’ll call Emily as soon as you tell me what day is good for you next week.”

“Whichever day is good for her,” Kit said. She’d never thought she’d be saying
that
. But her mother had been traveling around so much lately that between Kit’s movie and then those new stores they’d stopped having their weekly dinners and they hardly even talked to each other on the phone for more than two minutes.

The studio publicist called back to say Thursday at two o’clock at her house. “I had to fight with that Glick person,” he said indignantly. “He wanted to do it at your mother’s. He seems to think she’s the star.”

“Well,” Kit said calmly, “he works for her, not for me, you know.”

Her mother didn’t even call until that night. Kit was about to go out to meet David, the comedy writer, and was wondering if she should ditch him before the interview so that they wouldn’t describe him as her “live-in boyfriend” when he was really just temporary. He had his own house, after all, but there was already too much of his stuff around hers. “Isn’t it wonderful?” her mother said.

“Yes,” Kit said.

“Is it really true what I heard, that you might be nominated for an Academy Award, for Best Supporting Actress?”

“Spread it around,” Kit said.

“I have my fingers crossed. And what perfect timing this piece will be for my New York store!”