You Have No Idea: A Famous Daughter, Her No-Nonsense Mother, and How They Survived Pageants, Hollywood, Love, Loss (27 page)

I always tell my mom too much—even she would agree with that. She says I share too much information with everyone—my friends, my children, even the press (a big change from what I was like after the “scandal”). But the problem is that Mom remembers
everything
. I’ll get over it, forgive and forget. But Mom is a lioness, always protecting her cubs. Even if her cub is a woman with kids of her own!

I jumped right into wedding preparation mode. Rick and I had hardly any free time. I was in the last week of shooting
The Courage to Love
. Then I was off to Dallas for the first of my many commitments. After that, I had to jump in to star in
Shaft
, John Singleton’s remake of the seventies blaxploitation classic.

Rick had to head to preseason training camp in three weeks. We had only a tiny window to pull this off.

Any time I wasn’t on the set, I had Gena calling wedding planners and Vera Wang. On a day off, Gena and I picked out my
engagement ring at Kaufmann de Suisse, a boutique in Montreal. It was a beautiful pale yellow princess-cut with two baguettes on the side. The store had someone fly to Los Angeles and drop the ring off with Rick.

As soon as the movie wrapped, I headed to New York to finalize the details.

Everyone flew in for our wedding rehearsal dinner. Rick met me in New York. I’m sure he hated the way I took control but I had no other choice. After our dinner, Rick had the driver drop me off at the Trump Plaza. I got out of the car and a homeless woman sprinkled green M&M’s at my feet.
Odd
, I thought. I went to the front desk and a key was waiting for me.

I walked into the suite and was startled. Rick had decorated the entire place with memorabilia from our time together. He had saved every photo, restaurant menu, ticket stub, plane ticket, wine-bottle label, and matchbook. He must have spent the entire day turning that room into a museum of our relationship. If this were a scene in a movie, you’d think,
This guy is a crazy stalker—red flag! Red flag!
But it melted my heart.

I had no idea Rick had saved so much and was so sentimental. Halfway through looking at all the memorabilia, I cried. I couldn’t believe I had such a sensitive man who had documented our entire relationship.

Then he got down on one knee, put the ring on my finger, and asked me to marry him. He said, “My love for you is so deep that you’ll never know how much I love you.”

It was a fairy-tale night.

CHAPTER

25

This was completely Rick’s wedding. There were one hundred guests, but I think I knew maybe twenty people. It was all his family, his friends, his business associates. I walked around, looking at these people and wondered who they all were. Was I supposed to know them? It didn’t feel like it was Vanessa’s day at all.

—HELEN WILLIAMS

I
f you had attended our wedding, you’d have probably left smiling, thinking you’d just been to a perfect affair. And it had seemed pretty perfect. I wore a stunning Vera Wang gown with a taupe satin bodice and a full tulle skirt (completely different from the straight cathedral-length wedding gown I’d worn for my first marriage), while Rick stood next to me, looking gorgeous in his Rick Pallack tuxedo. We exchanged vows at the Church of the Holy Trinity, a Byzantine-style church on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Ivory roses draped the altar, while thick cream-colored candles twinkled from iron candelabras. The aisles overflowed with columns of creamy roses and lush greenery.

Chris was my “maid of honor,” Jillian and Melanie were bridesmaids, and Devin and Kyle were ring bearers. After we’d gone
through about half the ceremony, Deacon Tom Morrette announced, “Vanessa has a special gift for Rick.”

I could barely contain my excitement. Rob Mathes, a friend and my brilliant musical director, walked up to the altar, sat down at the piano, and played the opening chords to a song he composed. Then he began to sing the lyrics—they were the words Rick had written to me in a poem “Today and Everyday,” about how he knew when he first met me that I would one day be his wife. (Yes, Rick Fox wrote poetry for me!) Right after we had become engaged, I sent Rob the poem and asked him to set it to music and sing it at my wedding.

Today and everyday, I am yours for all time

Today and everyday, like a miracle, baby, you are mine

And though the winds may blow us far, far away

Don’t you forget my promise, listen to what I say

I’m yours today and everyday.

It slayed Rick. It was a very emotional moment for everyone. Rick cried, as did the entire audience. I was teary-eyed but I couldn’t stop smiling. My gift had completely blown him away.

Later the reception was held on the St. Regis Hotel’s top floor on a gorgeous Indian-summer day in September. Since Rick had been raised in the Bahamas, the reception had a Caribbean vibe. Guests danced to a steel-drum band and ate authentic Bahamian food—conch salad and guava duff fritters. For our song, Rick had chosen R & B singer Kenny Lattimore’s “All My Tomorrows.” We’d listened to it a lot over the last few months and it had become our song. So we walked into the ballroom and had our first dance as husband and wife—and Kenny was there to serenade us. Rick had completely surprised me. It was a fantastic moment and I had not expected it at all. The ballroom, showered in pink mood lighting, looked like a Caribbean paradise.

Then the toasts started—the best men, a few friends… and Mom.

Mom congratulated Rick on becoming part of our wonderful family. “We love our daughter very much. Welcome to the family.” She didn’t say a word about Rick. She had a big smile plastered on her face but her eyes were blazing so much they canceled out the smile. Then she said, “This has been a very short journey. Hopefully it will become a long journey.”

The next day Rick headed to training camp. And I was in Chappaqua with my kids. We’d begun our lives together as a bicoastal couple. Could we make a relationship work if we’d barely see each other? And how much of a presence would Rick be in our baby’s life? Was I about to be a single mom even though I was married?

Beware: When a man laughs when you say, “We’re getting married,” that’s a good sign that there will be issues.

CHAPTER

26

I
was at Vanessa’s house for lunch when she and Rick said that they were getting divorced. I knew already. I had heard through a friend that Rick had gone to the press to announce he had filed for divorce—before he even told Vanessa!

Rick’s announcement had come totally out of the blue and caught me by surprise. I never thought the marriage would work, but the way Rick handled it shocked me. It was just a horrible thing for him to do. Vanessa had given the marriage her all. She’d been such a dutiful wife, traveling back and forth to Los Angeles and going to all his basketball games. I knew that Vanessa had wanted this marriage to work and she was probably devastated that he’d gone so public with the divorce. I was really, really upset for her.

He was sitting down in a chair off the kitchen and I just looked at him and couldn’t take it anymore. I was so furious. My body felt like
it was just shaking with rage. I walked up to Rick and gave him a good whack on the back of his head.

Of course I didn’t hurt him. But I couldn’t express my disappointment in words and there was his head—just available—waiting for me to whack it. I’ve never had an urge to whack someone’s head like that before.

I whacked it. I didn’t say anything. I walked away.

It felt good.

I think I got my point across.

CHAPTER

27

Vanessa loves being married. She just needs to find someone who’s mature and self-assured. Of course, he has to be employed and/or financially secure. The money factor is important at this stage of her life. She needs someone who can take care of her for a change—instead of her always being the caretaker.

—HELEN WILLIAMS

I
stared out at the turquoise ocean from my balcony on the twenty-eighth floor of the Continuum, where I was renting an apartment while shooting the television series
South Beach
in 2006, and I thought,
Okay. I hear it. Rick doesn’t want to be married. I have to let go.

It was one of those rare aha moments in my life, when suddenly everything becomes so crystal clear. I stood facing the South Beach action with the warm wind blowing through my hair. I closed my eyes and took a deep cleansing breath. For the first time in a very long time, I felt at peace.

Men tell you the truth—you just have to be willing to listen, I realized. And that truth was that Rick didn’t want to be married to me anymore. I’d been in denial for a long time—too long. My
marriage to Rick had been over for more than a year. He had served me with divorce papers at my home—what more proof did I need? But I convinced myself that we could work it out. We’d tried couples therapy, but we couldn’t get it back.

Rick had told me he had a crush on me since he was a freshman at the University of North Carolina. He told me that there was no end to his love for me. He said I was the only woman he wanted to marry—ever. Now he was saying it was over. He wasn’t the marrying kind of guy.

Instead of listening to him, I thought I could change his mind. I thought if I waited long enough, he would snap out of this phase and become the Rick who was madly in love with me.

Now, instead of praying that Rick would want me again, I prayed to thank God:

Thank you God for all of my blessings and shine your light on me to help me carry out my path here on Earth. Make my children always feel my presence and direction and never let them feel abandoned.

When Sasha Gabriella was born on May 1, 2000, Rick flew in from the road for the birth and held my hand during my scheduled Caesarian section (I had fibroid surgery a few years earlier and had to have a C-section). Rick played James Taylor music to relax us. The children were also at the hospital, excitedly awaiting Sasha’s birth. I felt like we were one big happy family.

But the next day he flew back to Sacramento because the Lakers were in the playoffs. He played basketball wearing the hospital bracelet with fox, girl, stamped on it.

Kathi picked me up at the hospital and drove Sasha and me home.

I had thought about moving to Los Angeles to be closer to Rick, but I didn’t want to uproot the kids, who were settled in their schools; stability was my top priority for them. They’d been through enough already. Besides, Rick could get traded and then what? We’d have to move again.

Could the marriage have survived if we were in the same city all the time? Who knows. I thought I could make up for the distance by flying to Rick every other week (when the kids were with Ramon). During the off-season, Rick stayed in Chappaqua. But during the season, I was always flying back and forth. The traveling was exhausting, but I wanted us to be as normal a family as possible. I would arrange my calendar around his games and the children’s activities.

Looking back, I have my share of regrets. When Rick was playing in the NBA championship against the Indiana Pacers at the Staples Center I didn’t go to the games. Sasha was a newborn and I thought about taking her. Then I reconsidered.
Will it be too noisy? Too unsanitary?
I decided the traveling would be too difficult. But maybe I should have made the effort. Maybe I should have figured a way to make it work. His family was there for his first championship and I took photos of the win on the TV. It was Jillian’s eleventh birthday and we were screaming when the Lakers won.

HELEN ON BASKETBALL

I was never a fan of the sport. Actually, Milton and I really weren’t avid fans of any sport. But I tried to be a supportive mother-in-law, so we’d go to the games when we were in Los Angeles. Milton would get bored, so he’d take one of his books to the Staples Center and sit there, reading. I didn’t watch the game much, either. I’d look for the celebrities. One of my favorite moments was having my picture taken with Shaq. He’s so tall—I think I came up to his elbow. I love that picture and I still have it on my corkboard in the kitchen.

Right after the game, I talked to Rick on the phone. He was so happy and excited. I felt guilty for not being there to support him and celebrate with him. I also missed the parade in downtown Los Angeles to celebrate the Lakers’ first championship since 1988. I was shooting a big Radio Shack commercial. I had a contract—I couldn’t blow it off. I had to do the responsible thing. Devin and Kyle were there, but I regret missing out on such a major event in Rick’s life. I was there for the next year in Philly and the year after that, when the Lakers played the New Jersey Nets.

But there were a slew of other events one of us always seemed to miss: Tony nominations, basketball games, birthdays, milestones in Sasha’s life—first steps, first teeth, first words.

In our fifth year there was a shift in our relationship.

A tabloid had published questionable photos of Rick at training camp in Hawaii—with a blonde.

“It’s better for you if you’re not married to me,” Rick said. “You don’t deserve this at all, so I’ll let you be single so you don’t have to deal with me.”

What? He was trying to end our marriage by pretending he was doing me a favor. But I believed marriage was forever. I wasn’t giving up that easily. We had a daughter. We had our vows. I wasn’t going through a divorce again.

As crazy as this may sound, I believed we could work through this. I believed Rick when he said nothing happened with the blonde in the photos. He went back to Los Angeles, back to the Lakers, and back to therapy. I went back to my illusion that if I tried harder, I could make everything all right. I could make him remember his love for me.