Claire Voyant (32 page)

Wait a minute. Urology. Male infertility. “What's his last name again?” I held my breath.

“Who? Joel? It's Goldstone.”

“Where have I heard that before? It was just recently, too…. Oh my God. He doesn't happen to have a brother…?”

“Who? You mean David?”

“Yes. That's it. David Goldstone…. Is he a podiatrist?”

“Yes, which, thank God, Joel didn't go into like he was supposed to. His father's a podiatrist, too. But I'm so glad he became a real doctor.”

Oh, shut up. I'll give him two years before he's cheating on you
.

“Anyway, Claire. How do you know David?”

“Long story.” I leaned back into my seat. “And I also think I know someone who used Joel.”

“Really? Isn't it such a small world?”

“And getting smaller every day.”

 

Drew waited five days before calling to tell me that he missed me terribly, and wouldn't wait any longer to visit. Could I please pick him up at La Guardia at six-thirty, and not to worry about putting him up, he'd made a reservation at a hotel in the city. “This is working out great because I was supposed to do a follow-up visit with my doctor two months ago, but I never made time.”

“Yeah, that really does work out great…but can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“If the doctor happens to ask what you do for a living, do you mind telling him you're a brain surgeon?”

“Oh, this oughta be good.”

“Yeah. See, because do you remember when we were in Jacksonville, and you were boarding the plane with your dad, and I was talking to this girl?”

“Not really.”

“Well, I had just run into a sorority sister of mine from Indiana, Julia Farber. Anyway, she was bragging about her brilliant fiancé who was this big-deal urologist in New York, and—”

“Whoa. Don't tell me it's the same guy?”

“Joel Goldstone?” I held my breath.

“Yeah. That's him. So, wait. You know him?”

“Never met the man. But he's marrying Julia, and to shut her up, I told her that—”

“I was a brain surgeon.” He laughed.

“And so is your dad. In fact, you're in practice together, and you speak at all these conferences.”

“At least you didn't make me a proctologist…. Anything else I should know?”

“Um, yes. When I had breakfast with her this morning, I remembered we were engaged.”

“When did you tell her that?”

“That day in the airport.”

“Hold on. You're saying I knew you for all of an hour, and you told her we were getting married?”

“I had a premonition.”

“But I was already engaged.”

“Okay, fine. I made a wish.”

I
N PREPARATION FOR
D
REW'S ARRIVAL,
I
TORE THROUGH THE HOUSE
trying to clean up the place. And with each passing minute, felt pure dread that he would see it for what it was. A worn, shabby split-level with a dated kitchen, tiny bathrooms, and the plainest landscaping in all of Plainview.

Maybe the trick would be to pick him up, help him check into the hotel, and try to skip the Long Island part of the excursion. That's what I would do. Buy theater tickets. Make dinner reservations. Go to a Mets game. Anything to avoid giving him a tour of my home, which would take him a total of three minutes.

I felt guilty for feeling shame. I had never really given much thought to how we lived before I'd moved to California. But after partying in some of the grandest oceanfront homes there, and then spending a week at the Fabrikant estate, it would be hard to play show and tell.

Drew, however, wouldn't hear of it. We could head back to the city later, but first he wanted to see my family again, have dinner together, and then, spend some time in my bedroom, as I had done his.

You know what I was thinking. That he wanted to even the score by making love in my old room. But it would never work. Unlike at his house, where you had to drive to the nearest bedroom, Lindsey, Adam, and my parents would be right on top of us, divided only by paper-thin walls.

But being the sweetheart that he was, it turned out his motives for being in my room had nothing to do with getting into my pants. “I can do that anytime,” he teased. “You're easy.” Instead, he was hoping that we could search the house to see if I still had my copy of
Reason to Believe
.

Having a mission helped. I forgot about being self-conscious, and Drew seemed so happy to be with me, clearly he hadn't come to evaluate the decor. And too, digging through boxes of old albums, photos, and memorabilia from school gave me a chance to introduce the me he never knew.

Not once did he complain about the cramped space in my bedroom, or the cold floor in the basement, or the musty smell in the attic. His eyes were on me, and I honestly couldn't think of a time when I had ever felt such warmth and compassion coming from another human being.

It was in this spirit of kinship that we discovered a box of books in the garage marked
CLAIRE SCHOOL
. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought to look there sooner, as I had walked past that box every time I came in and out of the house.

“You think it's in there?” he asked.

“I'm keeping my fingers crossed, because I'm starting to lose hope.”

“Maybe we could ask your parents if they have any idea.”

“Are you kidding? You saw the house. There's crap everywhere. You think they're going to remember where I put a book I got twenty years ago that I never even looked at?”

“I guess. I'm just so curious to see if…”

“If what? I mean, I agree it would be great to find it. But why does this matter so much to you?”

“Because I would take it as a sign that we were meant to be together.”

“A sign? You mean the fact that the only reason we met was because a man died on my lap, and I decided to get off the plane to express my condolences to the family…that doesn't tell you anything?”

“It tells me a lot. But the thing is, Claire, there are no more copies of this book anywhere. I've tried to buy one online, and it's just not available. So I would love if it turned up here. Then maybe if we end up living together, we can each keep a copy by our side of the bed. And every day, it will be a reminder not only of our grandfather, but everything that was important to him.”

Never did I imagine that the most touching words I would ever hear would be spoken to me in a dirty garage while a twenty-year-old refrigerator hummed in the background.

I kissed him, and in answer to my prayers, I remembered correctly that I'd once been given the book, only to stuff it in a box without ever having read it. For had it been opened, I would have seen the almost illegible inscription:
To Claire. Love, Grandpa. Chanukah, 1986
.

“That's definitely his handwriting.” Drew studied the black scrawl with the eye of a scholar. “Is this the most unbelievable thing? He gave you the same book, the same year as me. And look where the bookmark is.” He lifted the red satin ribbon.

I opened it to the page, but of course I already knew.

“My Sky,” we said in unison.

“You think he's watching us right now?” I asked.

“Without a doubt.”

“And do you think this is a sign that he wants you to marry me?”

“I don't know.” Drew kissed me. “You talk to him more than me. Maybe you should ask.”

 

There is nothing like falling in love, and in the process discovering something magical about yourself. That you are worthy of unconditional devotion and affection. That you deserve to be respected. That through the eyes of another soul, you are the answer to the question, is there a God?

I learned this, not on the day that Drew and I sat on the cold garage floor at my parents' house, but over the months that followed as we spent time together at each other's homes and allowed our fondness for one another to deepen.

I also learned that what often disguises itself as love is nothing
more than a desire to share your burdens, and not your heart. Marly wanted to lay on Drew's financial security blanket and to have someone to take on her troubles as his own. Drew had hoped that in Marly he had a partner with whom he could build a quiet life, away from the daily grind of entertaining the tourists.

But after confessing that he'd had the procedure to reverse his varicocele, and she owned up to being more in love with another man, their second attempt to reach the altar was aborted like a rocket launch at Cape Kennedy.

It was not all that was aborted. In an act of both defiance and cowardice, Marly ended her pregnancy, as she did not want to take the chance that the man she hoped to marry one day was not the father of their child.

Her loss. Her pitiful, grievous, incalculable loss.

 

For several months, Drew and I commuted in order to be with one another. But there was a point at which the
schlep
seemed both interminable and unnecessary. And aside from the frequent number of bad hair days, Florida was the more desirable location to live. Better weather, endless action, and as Pablo had so aptly pointed out, no state income taxes. And believe me, after my windfall, I was paying much closer attention to what happened to my assets.

Only trouble with moving down there was that I could not bring myself to stay at Drew's place. Just knowing that he'd shared his bed with Marly made me want to sleep on the floor.

I tried to bring myself to get past the grossness of sleeping there, because, let's face it, the upside was getting to use that awesome shower every day. And yet, each time I came to town, I preferred to use his former bedroom as home base, until one day the house was sold to a Latin American businessman and I was evicted.

Now what? Follow Shari and Delia to their new condo in Boca? Buy my own place? I could actually afford to do that now. Which was the thought I had in mind when Drew and I took a ride in Pops' Caddy out to his cherished oceanfront oasis, Sunday paper and coffee in hand.

“I've been thinking about something, and we need to talk.” Drew took the real estate section from me and turned off the CD.

“Sure.” I sipped the last of my coffee. “You're not mad at me, are you?”

“No, I'm not mad at you.” He rolled his eyes. “Even when you infuriate me, I can't be mad at you. I don't know what it is…. I think it's because you're so cute.”

“Works for me.”

“Anyway, I've been thinking. Since Pops was your grandfather, too, maybe you would want to talk to a lawyer about legally changing your name.”

“Changing it to what? Annabelle?”

“No,” he laughed. “Your last name. Changing it to Fabrikant. As a way to honor his memory.”

“Oh. I hadn't thought about that. But it's probably not a good idea. My parents would be hurt.”

“I guess you're right.”

“Besides, it's not like I'd have to take his name in order to honor his memory. I've been trying to do that in other ways. I've been answering all his mail, and volunteering with Delia.”

“I know. And I'm really proud of you two…. I guess it was a stupid idea. I shouldn't have said anything. Unless maybe…”

“What?”

“I don't know. Unless we could think of a way to legally change your name to Fabrikant that would make your parents happy.”

“Don't even go there. They'd never understand.”

“Well, there is one way.”

“No, there isn't, Drew. Stop.”

“Sure there is…. You could become my wife.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I was thinking, if Claire married me, then she'd legally be a Fabrikant.”

I just stared at him for a minute. “Really? You want me to be your wife?”

He couldn't stop grinning.

“WOO-HOO!!!!” I bounced up, grateful the Caddy's top was down. “DREW WANTS TO MARRY ME!”

“This shouldn't be coming as a huge surprise,” he laughed. “You've only been asking me since we met.”

“I know.” I clapped. “But this is the first time you're asking me, and it's totally different…. I'm so happy. And you're sure? You've thought about it, and you really want to marry me?”

“I know that I would be the luckiest man alive if you said yes.”

“Should we…I don't know…maybe ask Pops if he's okay with the idea?”

“Claire, the man died just so that we would meet. I think that's a pretty good sign…. And think about it. We're in his favorite car, at his favorite lookout point…and you know how crazy he was about keeping family together,” he teased. “You don't think he'd give us his blessing?”

“I love you, Dr. Andrew whatever-your-middle-name-is Fabrikant…. What is your middle name?”

“Steven.”

“Thanks. I always say a girl should know her fiancé's full name…. Oh, wait. There's just one thing.”

“Now what? I thought I had the job.”

“You do.” I laughed. “You're definitely hired. It's more a favor than a question. Will you keep writing those beautiful poems, or lyrics, or whatever they were?”

“Probably not. I wrote all that stuff in high school. I doubt that it's any good.”

“Well, I'm telling you you're a great writer, and you should definitely pursue it.”

“Thank you…It's probably because Pops read so much to me when I was a kid…. I did once think about writing a book. But right now I'm trying to close a very big deal, Claire whatever-your-middle-name-is Greene…. What is your middle name?”

“Susannah.”

“That's pretty. Claire Susannah Greene, will you marry me?”

I started to cry.

“So that's a yes?” He kissed me.

“A definite yes.” I wiped my tears with my shirt.

“Okay, then open up the glove compartment.”

“Oh my God. Really? This is it? The moment I've been waiting for?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he teased.

I tried opening the latch, then jiggling it. But it wouldn't budge. “It won't open.” I pounded the door in case it only responded to the impatient Type A touch.

“It has to open.” Drew just stared. “It did before. Oh God…why me?”

“Well, wait. Try using your car key. I remember that's how my grandfather opened his—”

“No, it's only for the ignition. There's a separate key for the trunk, and…wait. Hold on. That just gave me an idea.”

“I promise not to accept another man's proposal until you come back,” I said as I watched this wonderful guy open the trunk, grab his jacket, sift through his pockets, and produce a small blue box.

“What's this?”

“Open it.”

“Are you serious? You drive around with a spare engagement ring?”

“Lots of pretty girls in Miami,” he laughed.

I shoved him.

“Okay, I confess.” He watched me fumble with the box. “There was nothing behind door number one. I did that to keep you guessing…. It's almost impossible to outsmart you.”

“Ooooh. You are so mean to pull a trick on me when I'm about to become engaged.” I closed my eyes and made a wish.

“What do you think?” he asked as I gazed at the diamond.

“Oh my God. It's absolutely exquisite. And so huge. It looks like it could seat six.”

“My dad went nuts picking this out with me. Nothing was good enough. He loves you.”

“Oh, that's so sweet,” I sighed.

“Just tell me that you'll wear it for the rest of your life.”

“I will…. But I'm more excited about wearing your name for the rest of my life. I can't believe it. I'm really going to be a Fabrikant.”

“Claire, I love you. And I mean this from the bottom of my heart. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is more deserving than you to carry on the family name…. You were born to have that name.”

 

I had been in L.A. for maybe three weeks when I made my first real friend, another new girl in town. A stunning young woman from Kauai, Hawaii, named Christine Osaka. We had both shown up at an open cast call for
General Hospital
and were scared to death.

Although I had some previous TV experience, and she had just finished her year as the first runner-up to Miss Hawaii for the Miss America Pageant, we were both in a panic that we would be swallowed whole by the vagaries of the Hollywood machine, and latched on to one another for dear life.

To our delight, were both chosen for walk-on parts for several episodes, and spent a glorious few weeks on the set, exploring our new hometown and figuring out ways to get attractive men to pay for dinner without having to later invite them into our pants.