Ruby Unscripted (18 page)

The film team is meeting at a Vietnamese restaurant. A nervous feeling comes over me as we arrive and I introduce Kate.

Kate tries making everyone laugh and sounds too loud. Or hyper. Or immature. Something that annoys me.

I don't want to be annoyed by her. And suddenly I don't want her to meet any more of my new friends.

“I've never eaten Vietnamese,” she says with all the excitement of a kid having her first ice cream. “What's Upseelongobee?” Then she laughs.

It's at this moment I see the stark contrast between Kate and the members of the film team. Kate appears years younger and childlike, or maybe childish. I wouldn't have thought it, not ever.

Cass sits on the other side of Kate, wearing her vintage clothing, leaning back in her chair, and sipping her cup of tea.

Kate doesn't even try adapting or hiding her lack of culture. It's like she shouts out her ignorance with her actions and comments like “So where is Vietnam exactly? I mean, does anyone actually know, other than it's near Japan or China?”

Cass and Sound Guy glance at each other. I want to hide under the table.

Olivia sits down and continues talking to me, though I wasn't really paying attention because I was so worried about Kate. “We'll go to the film festival in the fall. They have one here in Mill Valley. Every year they have directors and actors attend. It's mainly indie films, but some bigger talent is present as well.”

And then Kate starts asking a hundred and one questions. “So you actually enter real film festivals? Do you need more actresses?” This is said with a raise of her eyebrows. She then asks about what to order from the waitress and those around us, telling a story about trying Indian food and how that was a big mistake. “I think I spent two days in the bathroom, if you know what I mean.”

When she launches into stories from our childhood, approaching the one when we went toilet-papering one of our teacher's houses, I lean toward her and say, “Let's go to the bathroom.”

“I don't have to go.”

“Yeah, you do.”

This gets a snicker out of someone at the table, and Kate looks confused.

Once we're inside, I hiss in frustration, “Kate!” I want to shake her.

“What?” She is completely unaware of how she's looking to the film team. Can't she see how, well . . . how Cottonwood she's acting?

“We're trying to have our meeting.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This is supposed to be a working meeting, not just a social time.”

“Well, sorry. I was just trying to get to know your friends.”

“They aren't really my friends yet.”

“So I'm making a bad impression, is that what you're telling me?”

“No.”
Yes! You're acting like . . . well, yourself, but like you
would with friends you've known forever. Don't you know that when
you meet people, you don't . . .

Nothing sounds right in my own head, so how can I explain it to Kate?

“I'm sorry, never mind. Let's just go back. I guess what I meant was, it's just we need to get to the work part of the meeting. I don't want to be here very long—we need to go have our fun weekend.” But I know my voice isn't very convincing.

“Okay,” she says quietly. And quiet she is for the rest of the meeting.

I can't concentrate either, glancing toward Kate off and on. They assign me to be at the set on Sunday and give me a list of things to pick up and directions to the site. Other than that, I'm not part of the meeting. We call Mom to pick us up.

Back at home, a tiredness comes over me, but we only have tonight and tomorrow together.

“Unless you really want to see that movie, we could just stay here,” Kate suggests. She hasn't said much since the restaurant. “We could watch a movie and get online. I miss James.”

I'd forgotten about James—the guy I know nothing about except that he's way too old for my friend. Tonight further emphasized that fact.

“I'll see if Mom will make some brownies, and we can stay in. There's a Hitchcock film I've been wanting to watch.”

“Gee, that sounds exciting,” she says in a dull voice.

A phone beeps, and we both search our purses.

“Oh, it's Frankie,” I say when I find my phone.

“Oh, I want to meet him. But don't worry, I won't talk much.”

“Kate—I didn't mean it like that.” How did I become the bad guy?

FRANKIE:
Hey, it's Friday night. A bunch of us are going into the city. How bout it?

“Tell him to come over. Or come pick us up to do something.”

ME:
Oh, I can't. Out-of-town relatives are here.

FRANKIE:
Ugh, hate those.

ME:
Huh?

FRANKIE:
Huh again eh? Anyone who lives out of this town is usually BORING!

ME:
Have fun.

FRANKIE:
Yeah, you too girl.

“He can't come over. He's going into the city with a bunch of people.” I can't believe all the lies I'm suddenly flinging around. To my Marin best friend, as well as to my best friend of my whole life.

Kate is quiet for a moment. “So he invited you to go too?”

“Uh, yeah, sort of. But I thought we'd have more fun without being around a bunch of strangers. Plus, I have no idea what they're doing—for all I know, they're going gay bar hopping.”

“Or you're worried that I'd embarrass you again.”

“What? You didn't embarrass me.”

She stares at me in that way that makes me squirm. “You can't lie to me. I see right through you.”

“It's not like that, Kate. It's just, I still don't really fit here with—”

“What are you talking about? You look totally comfortable with everyone.”

“Well, you should know that means nothing. I can act like everything is cool when nothing is at all.”

“Yeah, but just because I talk too much when I'm nervous, you could be more supportive. More protective even. You made me feel like an idiot.”

“You wouldn't stop talking. That group meets to work, to get things accomplished, not hear stories of us rafting down the creek on a giant piece of Styrofoam or toilet-papering people's houses. You made us sound like country bumpkins.”

“They liked my stories.”

“No, they didn't.”

“Maybe I shouldn't have come.” Kate stands up with her arms crossed, glaring at me.

“Maybe you shouldn't have.”
How can she really blame this
on me?

She takes a step closer. “You've been down here less than a month—and you've changed.”

“No, I haven't.”

“Oh yes, you have.”

“I think it's you who changed.”

“Whatever. You with your film club and new job and elite school—yeah, it's me who's changed. You have an entirely new life.”

“You're secretly dating a guy in college. Oh, that's smart.”

“Yeah, I thought it was pretty smart.”

“You won't think so when you get a disease or get pregnant.”

“Yeah, because I'm sure I'll have sex just because I like an older guy.”

“You've never been very smart when it comes to guys.”

“You've never thought I was very smart anyway. So why would I be smart with guys?”

“I've never said that.”

“You haven't had to. And by the way, I'm glad you're now an expert with men. You've had so many relationships. Which one of us is even dating? I don't see your mature friends, or you for that matter, dating a guy in college.”

“And what kind of college guy dates a sophomore in high school?”

We don't talk the rest of the night. Kate ends up playing Clue with Mac. He wants me to play too and offers me Miss Scarlet if I will. I tell him I don't feel good. Then I turn off my phone and go to bed. Kate comes in later and uses my laptop to talk half the night to her college-aged boyfriend. I can only imagine what she's telling him.

The next morning Mom makes French toast and brings it to us in bed. And I wonder, with all her cooking lately, if Mom thinks food is the answer to the world's problems.

“Is this your coconut syrup?” Kate asks sheepishly.

“Yes, it is.” Mom smiles.

“Remember when we first tried coconut syrup at that little place in Maui?”

Mom sits on the edge of my bed. “It was the morning before my wedding. I ate so much I worried I wouldn't fit into my dress. But when we got home, I knew French toast would never be the same without coconut syrup.”

“That was one of the best trips of my life,” Kate says.

And the memories come even after Mom leaves. Snorkeling together until Kate almost drowned when she met a sea turtle eye-to-snorkel mask, screamed, and sucked in a mouthful of water. Surfing lessons, and us so proud that we both got up. We thought about staying in Maui to become full-time surf bums after that.

The wedding was a casual event on the beach, and I was happy to see Mom so happy. I was maid of honor, and Kate did the guest book. Those ten days in Maui were the best trip for best friends.

“I'm sorry,” I say between bites of French toast.

“I'm sorry too.”

We look at each other, smile, and then we laugh. Maybe food
is
the answer to the world's problems.

And we're back. Again.

We spend the rest of the day shopping in the little boutiques and at the mall. Mom takes us to Sausalito to browse their waterfront and to eat fish and chips at a fun little restaurant overlooking the bay. We make plans to go into the city next time Kate's down.

Sunday morning is good-bye—her mom wants to get home before dark. We hug, and I wave until she's out of sight. There's a moment that she looks sad, and I wonder what's really going on with her. We barely talked about anything of substance after our fight. Does she feel that I've abandoned her? Are we drifting apart so quickly?

We're back,
I remind myself as I walk up the stairs to my room. I need a nap, and I'm relieved the taping today is canceled. Something about not enough fog.

ME TO KATE:
It'll be belter next time.

KATE:
Yeah, I know.

ME:
We'll go into the city or check out the universities.

KATE:
Yeah, we need to keep making plans for that. If we have money we'll stay in the dorms. Otherwise, it's the garage apartment.

ME:
Exactly.

Will we ever see these plans come true? We've been friends since Mrs. K.'s class in kindergarten.

But can such friendships really last forever?

chapter seventeen

LONDON:
What are you doing tonight?

ME:
Nada.

I'm cleaning my room on another Friday night and was just thinking maybe I should've volunteered to work. At least I wouldn't be alone. My friends in both Cottonwood and Marin all have plans. My film team canceled because Rob has some important meeting. The rest of the group went to the IMAX theater in the city, and I wasn't exactly invited. We aren't that good of friends yet, though if I'd pushed it when Cass called me, I know they would've taken me along. Even Mac, Mom, and Austin are gone, driving to meet Dad halfway so Mac can see him this weekend. Mom and Austin won't be back till after midnight.

LONDON:
You have plans now.

This actually worries me more than excites me. Though, okay, there's a bubble of hope brewing in my stomach. I want to do something fun, really fun, and how do you do that alone?

ME:
But I can't really do anything. My mom and stepdad
are gone.

LONDON:
Call and ask to stay the night at my house.

Mom has met London a few times now. London finds our house and family “quaint” and “like a family on TV,” which is just weird to me.

ME:
Urn, okay. I'll try. But we aren't really staying at your
house?

LONDON:
Eventually. Don't ask anything else, it's a
surprise. And that way you won't have to lie.

“Where are you?” I ask when Mom answers the phone.

“We just met your dad and are heading back. But we were thinking of seeing a movie in Vacaville. Are you okay? Would you mind being alone till pretty late?”

“No, I don't mind.” I pause a moment, crossing my fingers. “But London called and wants me to stay the night.”
That isn't
lying,
I tell myself.

“Um, are her parents home?”

The phone cuts out just then.

“I don't know, but I'd guess so.”

“What? I couldn't hear you.”

The call suddenly is lost, and I wonder if this is God looking out for my social life, or somebody else.

Mom calls back and says, “Just be careful, do the right things, can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“I'm in a bad spot . . . call you . . . leave a number to . . . love you, sweetie.”