Falling into Forever (Falling into You) (16 page)

“Yeah, Mom.
I know.”

“He…”

“I know that, too, but thanks for the reminder.”

“Did you see him?”

“Are you sure there aren’t some numbers you want to talk about? I know there has to be something in there that didn’t pass muster. Something about on-set catering for the screenwriting team? A percentage point on merchandising? Foreign rights? I know. I forgot to ask for a luxury trailer so that my mother can make extended set visits.”

“Is that my daughter, making a bad joke? What have you done with
the gloomy-faced woman I’ve come to tolerate? This uncharacteristic sarcasm is making me think that we might not have lost you to the dark side, after all.”

“That’s totally unfair.
I make lots of jokes.”

She gives me a long, hard look. “I don’t think so.
Not lately.”

“Well, I don’t even think that counts as a joke. It’s a feeble attempt, really.”

“I would have to agree.” She leans her head forward, letting her glasses fall to the tip of her nose, and examines me more carefully. “But it’s an attempt.”

I figure I might as well keep going, since one joke apparently qualifies as being on a roll.
“So tell me, any more mud fights at preschool? The first one practically gave me a heart attack. The teacher got on the phone, and was all, ‘I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but your daughter has been the cause of a fairly serious ruckus here at school.’ And then I was like, ‘Oh no. Is anyone hurt? Wouldn’t want to cause a ruckus, now.’ And then she said, ‘No, but there’s mud all over the clothes of another little girl. I believe that you might be getting some angry phone calls from parents in the upcoming days, and I wanted you to be aware so that you could prepare a response.’” In my frantic attempt to change the subject, I mimic the high-pitched voice of Grace’s teacher. “I mean, seriously. What are we teaching our children? No more playtime. Mud is evil.”

My mother just continues to stare. “A joke and a bad anecdote?”

“Fine. You win. I saw Chris Jensen. Let me guess. You have some questions?”

She smiles slightly. “
Will you answer any of them?”

“
Um, no. However, you’re going to ask anyways, so I figure I’ll at least speed that process up.”

“
Is he still as handsome as always? Have there been any surgical alterations?”

“What happened to his salaciousness? I pretty clearly remember you saying that
any genetic abnormalities leading to a pleasing appearance were clearly outweighed by his empty charm.”

“
One of the few luxuries of getting older is having the freedom to just say whatever you’re thinking. Wisdom, respect—that’s a load of baloney. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. But the loosening of the tongue? Pure gold. And thankfully, my tongue’s loosened enough to be able to tell you one thing—that boy was the best-looking specimen I’ve ever laid eyes on in my life. Even Ben, God rest his soul, and you know how I adored him, couldn’t hold a candle to Chris Jensen. You have to give me this very small concession. Botox? Rhinoplasty? Chin implants?”

Because I’m too shocked to do anything but laugh, that’s exactly what I do.
“None of the above, unfortunately.”

“Well, I have to say that is very disappointing. Although…”

“Although what, Mom? Spit it out.”

“Although nothing. It’s just nice to hear
your laugh again, that’s all.” She pauses for a moment and pats my arm affectionately. “I love you, kid. And I love that child upstairs, too, even if she does have a certain knack for turning gray hair to white. I won’t ask you anything else about it. You must be exhausted, so I’ll get out of your hair and head up to bed.”

“You know, you told me
once that it’s the fate of mothers and daughters to fight and rage through the teenage years, but eventually, we’d be talking men and life and children at the kitchen table. How did you get to be so wise?”

“Lots of living. I had my own mother once, too.
I think the appropriate phrase there is ‘god bless her soul.’ However, I don’t know how much I would bless her soul.” My mother crosses herself and gives me a wicked grin.

“I love you
, Mom.”

“Don’t disappear again, Hals.” Her voice is urgent
. “I don’t know if I can lose you, too. Not with all I’ve lost.”

I
take the dishes from the table and place them in the sink. As I hear her leaving the kitchen, I turn to give her one last look. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all you can do. That’s all any of us can do.”

CHRIS

I stare out at the endless blue of Lake Michigan as
the car passes the sea of people pushing strollers and running alongside the lakefront and generally living their lives. When I see a jogger run past with a sweater-clad dog, I smile. Dogs remind me of Hallie. The lake reminds me of Hallie. The snow-covered sand reminds me of Hallie.

Who am I kidding? Everything reminds me of Hallie.
For the past week, every cup of coffee and seemingly mundane task has turned into a hidden minefield of memories. It’s exacerbated by the fact that my ridiculous photographic memory makes it possible to examine my mind for little details that I thought I had forgotten long ago. I’m considering a lobotomy. An exorcism. Something.

“She’s not going to be there, is she?”

There’s
uncharacteristic panic in Marcus’s tone, and I know that he isn’t thinking about Hallie. That makes one of us.

“Considering that Eva is Hallie’s agent, I think it’s probably a pretty
good bet that she will be there.”

“Don’t mention that spider’s name in my presence again. She probably cast some kind of spell on it. She’
s just waiting with her little poisoned apple. I need a food tester. Isn’t that what the kings of England have?” Marcus accompanies his words with an exaggerated shudder and wink, which brings some much needed comic relief.

I manage
a small grin in response, but my fingers fiddle nervously with my phone. I’ve been nervous for a week, and I’m never nervous.

The car stops abruptly.

“We’ve arrived, Mr. Jensen. Is there anything else you’ll require today?”

The driver
is peering at me expectantly through the rearview window. There are plenty of things that I’ll require today, but I’m pretty sure the man in the front seat isn’t going to be able to provide any of them.

“No, we’re all set. One of us will call if we need a ride.”

“Very good, sir.”

He comes around to open t
he door. After thanking him, Marcus and I step under the awning and into the hotel.

“I’ll check us in. You just try to stand ove
r there and look inconspicuous. If anyone recognizes you, just play dumb. Maybe Chris Jensen has a twin somewhere. Go with that. You know, if you had just listened to me about the security team, we wouldn’t have to worry about staying incognito this weekend. But no. No security. Dumbass.”

“
It will be fine. Just check us in and spare me the lecture, okay?”

He rolls his eyes before making
his way over to the check-in area. I pull the knit cap over my eyes as I look for a good spot to hide out. I’ve been to this hotel before, years ago, when my mother had dragged Diana and me on one of her little shopping expeditions. It seems like nothing has changed. Well-dressed women pass me with bulging bags holding the spoils of a few hours of shopping on the Magnificent Mile, just as my mother did, so many years before. I ignore them and make a beeline for the darkest corner of the lobby instead.

I scope out an empty couch but before I can reach it
, I hear two very familiar voices. I duck for cover.

“That jackass.”

“He’s not a jackass, Eva.”

Shit.
I’m not ready. I need a minute to prepare to see her, but I have to know who isn’t a jackass? Me? That might be too much to hope for.

I can’t see the pair of them, but the voices are tantalizingly close. They must be somewhere behind me.

“Oh, fuck yes, he is a jackass.”

“Eva, come on. There are kids around here.”

“Well, their fucking mothers should know better than to bring their grubby children, no offense, to a fucking grown-up hotel where grown people have too many fucking martinis at lunch.”

Hallie laughs, and
it’s not the clipped laugh of the woman I saw in New York, the Hallie-but-not-Hallie. Instead, it’s filled with mischief and happiness and teasing. It takes every scrap of will in my body not to spin around and yank her into my arms. I murmur what I hope is a silent thank you and strain to listen to her words.

“
You are so drunk right now. I never pinned you as a girl who couldn’t hold her liquor.”

“
Oh, so now you want to be spunky again? All of this teasing is starting to freak me out. I forgot that you even knew how to make a joke, and here you are, coming back with zingers left and right. I miss the old Hallie. Put on the mopey face. For old times’ sake.”

“You are not
even about to turn this around to make it about me. Not this time, drunkface. I cannot believe you didn’t tell me that you had history with Marcus. I also can’t believe that it took a three-martini lunch to pry that out of you. You were the one harping on me for neglecting to mention certain historical events.”

“I wouldn’t call it history.”

“Oh, then what would you call it?”

“A youthful transgression.”

“That you’ve been repeating for, oh, just the last ten years or so?” Hallie clucks her tongue. “For shame, Eva. For shame.”

“
It’s seven years, not ten. With the jackass. I swear, there’s a special place in hell for him and his kind.”

“Marcus isn’t all bad
.”

“We’ll see about that at the meeting tonight.
Just wait until he starts shredding your screenplay. He’ll make mincemeat out of Ben’s work. He’s going to try to turn it into a Chris Jensen vehicle. That man’s career is the only thing in this world that Marcus cares about, other than making money and chasing tail. Even when we were in bed, it was always, ‘What do you think about this for Chris’s career? What about that?’ I swear, those two should just get married and be done with it. It would save us both a lot of trouble.”

“Save you a lot of trouble, you mean. I don’t have a horse in this race.”

Marcus suddenly appears before me with his arms crossed, and I raise a finger to my lips. He shakes his head and points behind me to an oversized pillar. After pulling the hat further over my eyes, I turn around and sneak a quick look in the direction of the voices.

I catch a clear glimpse of her face
as she turns around to glance down at her phone. It’s only been a week since I’ve seen her, but she’s transformed. She’s still too thin, but her shoulders are ramrod straight and her hair has regained some of its luster. Even from this distance, I can see some of the old light, that sense of wonder at the world around her, reason # 482 that I had fallen in love with her in the first place.

She glances once in my direction, and I inch
behind the pillar. When I look up again, she’s absorbed in her conversation with Eva, seemingly oblivious to my presence. I breathe a quick sigh of relief.

“
No horse in this race, huh? So, you’re telling me that it’s just a magical coincidence that you decided to return to the land of the living after your little rendezvous in New York. That none of this newfound snarkiness can be attributed to Chris Jensen.”

“Yep, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Sell it to someone who’s buying.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

“Be careful what
you
wish for. If I were more informed on the subject, I might back off a little, you know. You still won’t tell me what happened between the two of you. Was it a whirlwind romance gone bad? A steamy love affair that ended in tears? Did he cheat on you? Run away with your best friend? Was it Hollywood that dragged the two young lovers apart?”

“You’re getting Hollywood
endings confused with reality again, Eva. I’m sure Marcus could whip you into shape. But for your information, it was none of the above.”

“Don’
t you dare mention that man’s name. You’re too cruel. You at least owe me the short version. I’ll get the long version another time.”

“
I will tell you the short version under one condition. Two conditions. You have to promise that you’ll get a few cups of coffee before tonight’s meeting and you have drop the subject completely for the next month. No more badgering.”

“I promise
on both counts, even though the thought of not badgering you is unpleasant.”

“
We were together. It was great until it wasn’t.”

“Come on. Not fair. That’s a non-story.”

“He’s Chris Jensen. He’s colossally talented, looks like a Greek god, and had the whole world wrapped around his little finger, even back then. I thought…”