Halfway to You(89)

“Ann, I want to be there with you.”

“But you’re not.”

What I meant was: I was a fool.

I was a fool for having hope when time and time again, the world proved that Ann Fawkes was meant to be alone.

“Copper . . .”

“I can’t do this,” I said. “I can’t sit here—alone—and listen to excuses. I just can’t.”

I hung up.

Fuck him. That’s what I was thinking. As I cradled my head in my hands in that big suite in Tahiti, a small part of me cringed to think that I had shut him out, but I had grown so accustomed to looking out for Ann. It was safer to push him away.

So that’s what I did.





ANN


Los Angeles, California, USA October 1999

I never saw the teal water Todd promised. The next morning, I returned to the airport and boarded a flight back to Rome. Not four weeks later, Keith and I met in LA for my movie premiere.

When I arrived at our hotel, Keith was waiting in the lobby and spread his arms when he saw me. “You’ve been in the air longer than you’ve been on the ground, lately.” He was aware of what happened between me and Todd, though I’d tried not to involve Keith in our dramas.

I hugged him. “It sure feels like it.”

“You ready to see your movie?”

“I really am.”

After so many delays, it was surreal watching my story and characters rendered on the big screen. The actors were superb, and while some scenes had been dropped and new ones added, the director succeeded in portraying the heart of my book. I knew it would be a hit, and I was glad—not necessarily on behalf of my own career but on behalf of all the people who believed in the story. I was glad for the studio, the producers, the actors. I was glad for my publicist, editor, and Keith. I was glad for my fans.

After the credits rolled, I was invited to an after-party but declined. Shy and tired and overwhelmed, I opted to walk back to the hotel—and, well, you know what happens next, Maggie. Everyone knows. I don’t care to detail the brouhaha that occurred outside the theater, because it’s on camera. You can see it on YouTube. You’ve seen it, haven’t you?





MAGGIE


San Juan Island, Washington State, USA

Friday, January 12, 2024

“Yes,” Maggie answers. “I’ve seen it.”

Maggie isn’t surprised that Ann would rather not go into detail. In the video, Ann exits the theater via a side door, around the corner from the commotion of the red carpet. Clad in a glittery navy dress and high heels, Ann stops short when she sees a figure cross the street and approach her. The footage is grainy from the contrast of bright lights and the dark evening. The audio is muffled; subtitles appear.

ANN: Todd, what are you doing here?

TODD: I came to explain.

ANN: Don’t touch me.

TODD: Can we just talk? Can you hear me out?

A second man approaches.

MAN: Hey, this guy bothering you?

TODD: No, no, I just—

MAN: I didn’t ask you.

ANN: It’s fine, truly.

TODD: Just be on your way.

MAN: Don’t tell me what to— The film shows Todd turn back to Ann and touch her arm again. He doesn’t grab her; it’s more of a tap, as if to get her attention. The other man—who is short and stocky—puffs up.

MAN: Hey, get your hand off her!

The other man inserts himself between Ann’s and Todd’s blurry figures. The camera jostles, as if the operator is jogging across the street for a closer shot. Ann teeters and steps on the hem of her dress. Todd catches her arm so she doesn’t fall backward, but the other man clearly misinterprets the contact.

TODD: Whoa, whoa—

The second man cocks his elbow and hits Todd square in the mouth.

ANN: [Screams.]

Chaotic sounds—shouts, shrieks, grunts, and smacks of fists on flesh—flood the audio. The camera tries to track the scene but gets bumped and topples.





ANN


Los Angeles, California, USA

October 1999

By midnight, I was sitting on the bed in my hotel room clutching a tiny bottle of vodka from the minibar. Two other bottles rested on the carpet, empty. I had a few bruises on my arm from falling onto the pavement when the fight broke out. My ankles were sore from walking in bad shoes; I rolled them this way and that, watching my bare, unpainted toenails swivel. I didn’t know where Todd was or what had happened after Keith found me and whisked me away. Police had come. I’d spotted blood on Todd’s lip. The cab that took Keith and me back to the hotel had smelled of incense. Keith had offered to stay with me for a while, but I wanted to be alone, so he’d retreated down the hall.

Tonight was supposed to be triumphant. My movie premiere. The movie based on my words, my emotions, my characters. I wondered what Jane would’ve done in a situation like that, a fight breaking out all around. She probably would’ve socked Frank in the face. She probably would’ve taken off her heels and joined the melee.

That was the point of Jane. She stood up for herself even when she was afraid. Jane was the woman Todd thought I was—the woman I should have been.

I hadn’t spoken to Todd since Tahiti. Back home, Carmella had helped me talk through my feelings. She was a good listener, but her solution was always to rebound. Throw yourself into the arms of the next man. Visit a club, kiss a stranger. Call Bertie.