Thank You for Listening(42)

Blah raised an eyebrow. “Did he? Two people can use each other, you know.”

She barely dared ask. “Grandpa?”

Blah shook her head. “He was later. He was love. He was a playwright out of New York and he thought I was interesting. Imagine that.

“What I’m saying, Dollface, is I never slept with anyone I didn’t want to sleep with. I always had a reason. Was it right? Was it wrong? Who the hell knows. You’ve seen movies about that time. People write their little tell-alls now. Casting couches, randy directors, lifted skirts against a dressing room door.” She scoffed, took a drag. “I’m not saying that’s not how it was for some gals. And I’m sorry if that’s how it was. But for me, it was three-martini lunches and bonfires in Malibu that lasted until the sun came up and ‘my wife is visiting her sister for the weekend, you ever been to Catalina?’ Reciprocal, you understand?”

“But you wanted to be an actress and they exploited that.”

Blah cackled and ashed her cigarette. “I didn’t want to be an actress. I wanted to be famous.”

“But you worked?”

“But I wasn’t good! Shit’s sake, I couldn’t act my way out of a wet paper bag. My choice was, I could be in it the way I was, or out of it because of what I wasn’t.” She pointed her cigarette at Sewanee. “And Doll, I can see on your face that won’t work for you.”

She took a final drag and snuffed it. “You want me to take your side and rail at your parents but–much as it pains me, and Lord knows it does–they’re right. This? Who you are now and what you’re being offered? Is how things end badly.”

Sewanee stamped her foot, every inch the child she didn’t think she was. “So what am I supposed to do?”

Blah leaned back, wrapped her hands around the frame of the lounger, crossed her legs. “What I never did. Get good. So goddamn good they can’t tell you shit.”

Blah’s lack of talent had never prevented her from understanding how it manifested in others. She helped Sewanee develop emotional accessibility, a command of words and language, a body that moved freely, effortlessly, sensually through space. She set about making her granddaughter her, but better. And when Sewanee applied to Julliard and got in? It was the greatest accomplishment of Barbara Chester’s life.

And by the time Sewanee graduated, she had Blah’s star quality, Marilyn’s innate goodness, Henry’s analytical skills, Julliard training, and four years of New York spit shine on her. She was unstoppable.

Until she wasn’t.

*

February 25

BROCK:

Been thinking about our convo the other night. I want you to know: I’m not an actor. Everything you said about Alessandro made so much sense. I never think about stuff like that.

SEWANEE:

How did you get into audiobooks if you’re not an actor?

BROCK:

someone liked my voice.

SEWANEE:

It is a good voice.

BROCK:

I once called the DMV and the representative said, “I loved the way you said your VIN number. Would you mind doing it again a little slower?”

SEWANEE:

Haha appreciate what you have, my friend.

BROCK:

I do. I’d be lost without it.

Hey AM I your friend?

SEWANEE:

Figure of speech.

BROCK:

Ouch.

SEWANEE:

JK it’s not that we’re not not friends.

Ooof, too many nots.

We. Are. Friends. No nots.

I hate texting.

BROCK:

I heard they’re testing a new invention. Calling it a tellingphone or something like that. They’re saying we’ll actually be able to talk to each other through this here typing box! Science!

SEWANEE:





FAKE NEWS


Eleven minutes later:

SEWANEE:

What did you do before you were a narrator?

BROCK:

Mmmmmm story for another time.

Sewanee made herself wait until she was done for the day, still dripping from the rain that had been lashing during her climb back up to the casita, to text: OKAY IT’S ANOTHER TIME!

BROCK:

Is this MY Another Time or YOUR Another Time?

SEWANEE:

Nice try. You’re up.

BROCK:

K just let me wrap up this chapter.

Maybe make myself a drink first.

SEWANEE:

Ooh I’ll join you!

BROCK:

You a wine-spritzer lady or a whisky-neat woman?

SEWANEE:

Depends. What kind of story am I settling in for?

BROCK:

A tale of enduring friendship in the face of dashed dreams.

SEWANEE:

I’m breaking out the tequila.

BROCK:

Olé

57 minutes later:

BROCK:

Tequila ready?

SEWANEE:

Turns out I only have a little cheap vodka in the back of my freezer.

BROCK:

Only a little?

SEWANEE:

It’s a little freezer.

What are you drinking?

BROCK:

Beer.

SEWANEE:





LOSER


BROCK:

And you don’t even know the story yet.