Everything Leads to You(26)

“Do you realize how huge this is?” I say. “Clyde Jones’s life was pretty much a mystery. All people knew was that he was kind of a ladies’ man when he was younger, and that he then became a recluse, and that he never had a wife or children. And now, here you are, and it turns out that even the little we thought we knew about him wasn’t true. You,” I say, pausing for effect, making sure that she’s really understanding this, “are the secret granddaughter of the most iconic actor in American film history.”

Ava shakes her head in wonder. Then she looks down and smiles. It makes me relieved and happy, like we aren’t invading anything with this information, aren’t trespassing at all. Like what we’ve done is more like picked a bunch of wildflowers and left them on a stranger’s doorstep, something wild and beautiful, ready to be discovered.

“I’ve never even seen a Clyde Jones movie,” she says.

“Are you joking?”

“I can picture him in his cowboy hats and everything, but no.”

I shake my head. “Insanity.”

“It’s not that insane, Emi,” Charlotte says. “Not everyone grows up in a household like yours.”

“Well, you came to the right place,” I say to Ava. “We have the complete collection. Do you have plans?”

The sunburst clock above Toby’s TV shows that it’s almost eleven. I see her glance at it.

“I have time,” she says. “I just have to make a quick phone call first.”

“Great! Char and I will choose one.”

She wanders back into the kitchen to find her phone.

“I’m glad she didn’t freak out,” I whisper as Charlotte and I position ourselves in front of Toby’s extensive DVD collection.

“Yeah, she seems really calm about it,” Charlotte says.

We choose A Long Time Till Tomorrow because it’s quintessential Clyde. Lowlands is my favorite but Ava can get to that one later, after she has at least a basic knowledge of his career so she can appreciate the ways in which it departs from his usual role. I can hear bits of her conversation. Toby’s place is small, and she isn’t trying to be secretive.

“I’ll drive us,” she’s saying. “Yes, really. Okay, see you in the kitchen at one fifteen.”

She’s obviously talking to someone she knows well, but she isn’t saying anything about what she just discovered. If it were me, I would be calling everyone. I would be ecstatic, but all she seems to be is curious.

She walks back in and sits down.

“Sorry,” she says. “I had to call my friend Jamal. I’m driving us to work later.”

“Where do you work?” I ask.

“Home Depot,” she says.

“Really?”

“Is that weird?” she asks.

“I just can’t picture you in one of those uniforms, or, like, helping people cut the right-size pieces of Masonite.”

“We work the early-morning stock shift. We don’t help customers. It’s an okay job and Jamal’s my best friend, so that helps.”

I nod, and Charlotte asks, “Have you known each other for a long time?”

“Almost a year. But we were best friends after barely a week of knowing each other. Things like that happen fast when you don’t have anybody else.”

I’m struck by the simple truth in that statement, but agreeing with her would be dishonest. I can’t even pretend to know what being so alone would feel like. And she doesn’t look like she’s waiting for a response anyway. She’s made herself comfortable in the chair, watching the screen, waiting for the film to begin.

“All right,” I say, back to business. “We’re starting with A Long Time Till Tomorrow. This is Clyde in his first lead role. 1953. Lee Dodson is the director. This is the movie that made Clyde Jones, Clyde Jones, if you know what I mean.”

She nods.

“Ready?” I say.

“Ready.”

I press play and the twangy music starts. Charlotte sits on the white rug, Ava on the orange chair, me on the sofa. The first couple scenes play. Charlotte laughs at the stilted dialogue and I examine the sets, which are spare and rustic.

And then, twelve minutes into the movie, Ava starts sobbing.

~

She cries for a while, knees pulled up to her chest, these sobs that sound like she will never stop.

Charlotte and I keep offering her blankets and mugs of mint tea but she keeps telling us she’ll be okay.