Everything Leads to You(84)

“We moved around a lot,” Ava says.

“‘A lot’ doesn’t even come close. Seems like Tracey had a new boyfriend every couple weeks. At one point, when I started getting really nervous, I asked her if she’d let you stay with me for a little while, just while she got back on her feet, but she said no.”

“Why?” I ask. I can’t help myself.

He looks at me, then back to Ava. “You made her feel safe,” he says. “That’s what she told me. She said that she would never go too far as long as you were with her. She told me that you saved her life in more ways than she could explain.”

Ava shakes her head. I can see her fighting off tears.

“That isn’t how she feels now.”

“Well, no. That was before all of her transformations. I suppose AA or some self-help guru or Jesus saves her life now.”

Ava looks surprised at the bitterness in his voice.

“Yeah,” she says. “Exactly. Why did that happen?”

He leans forward, buries his head in his hands. Finally, he sits back again.

“I don’t know all the details. We’d been out of touch for about a year, and she called me and asked if I could meet her for lunch. You were in school, I guess. She was wearing a lot of makeup because someone had beaten her up. It was pretty ugly, I remember, even with her attempts to hide it. She wanted money. She needed to pay to get her car fixed and then she was going to take you and go to stay with her parents for a while in Arcadia. I gave her the money, and she left for her parents’ a few days later.”

“I remember staying there. They had a yard and a lot of books.”

“Right. You guys stayed there for a couple of months. She was in rehab and she thought it might work for her that time. She was trying really hard and I felt better, knowing that you were with her folks. Then, she met a guy who said he could help her and she moved way the f*ck out there. To Leona Valley.”

“She’s still there.”

“Really,” he says. “I guess I already knew that. I just didn’t want it to be true. I got married seven years ago. Our first year of marriage, my wife got all excited. She wanted to send out holiday cards. We got our picture taken wearing Santa hats and posed with the dog. Amazing, isn’t it?—the things we’ll do for love. She asked me for a list of addresses, and I thought about you guys. I gave her your name and address and she sent it out. I didn’t know if you’d remember me, but I’d hoped that you would. But then the letter came back in the mail. Someone had written ‘return to sender’ and I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t Tracey’s writing, that it was the writing of a stranger, but I think I knew. Secretly, it was what I expected.”

He looks at his watch.

“Damn,” he says. “I pushed back a meeting in order to see you, but I can’t push it back any longer.”

Ava stands up and I stand up, too.

“So, look,” he says, walking us back down the hallway toward the lobby. “I know that to you I’m just some distant memory. Maybe less than that. But will you keep in touch with me? Just now and then. Give me your address, my wife will send you a holiday card.”

“She’s going to be in your business soon,” I tell him.

“That right?”

“I have a part in a film,” she says. “A small film.”

“Not that small,” I say.

“You take after your mother,” Lenny says. “In the best ways.”

“That’s how we found you,” I tell him. We’re all in the lobby now, and Lenny gives the “one minute” gesture to a group of eager young men. He turns back to me.

“From The Restlessness,” I say.

He cocks his head.

“I saw your name and we made a wild guess.”

“Caroline was the best part of that movie,” he says. “Don’t you think?”

We say, “Yes,” and he says, “Thank you,” and then he beams at Ava, regret still clouding his face, before turning away from us and ushering the men in. He shuts his door and then we are back in the silver elevator, plummeting down to the street.





Chapter Twenty



I have to make up for lost time. I talk to Toby in the morning, tell him all about Yes & Yes. He’s excited, but I can tell he’s also skeptical. I don’t tell him about the famous actors who’ll be in it. I don’t tell him that I’m using his apartment. But I do tell him about my design ideas, and about them he is not skeptical. He congratulates me. He wishes me luck. He shows me some photos of locations he’s found in London and they look opulent and larger than life, just as they should. Then we say good-bye, I shut my computer, and I start packing up all of his stuff.