The Comeback(67)

“Is Able still mad that you missed his screening?” I ask as Emilia slows down to let another car pass.

“He doesn’t exactly have a leg to stand on when it comes to missing important life events,” Emilia says lightly.

“Do you ever get angry about it?” I ask, surprising myself as soon as the words are out of my mouth.

“What?”

“Being by yourself,” I say, my voice steady.

“How could I be angry about that?” Emilia says, and I can tell that she’s about to change the subject.

“Well, it’s just . . . Able’s priorities,” I say, as if I don’t want to be the person pointing this out to her. “That he never shoots a movie in LA, they’re all on location. It was a running joke on set that he couldn’t stay in the city for more than six weeks at a time.”

Emilia pauses for a moment without looking at me, and even though I know I’m being unkind, I feel a jolt of satisfaction. “They have better tax breaks elsewhere. We’re looking for space E9.”

I point to an empty spot in front of us, and Emilia pulls into it. She turns the engine off.

“I’d never really thought of it being a choice,” she says.

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, I know,” she says. “The truth is of course he could shoot here. But he needs his space to work, and I have a good life, so I really can’t complain.”

“Of course not,” I say, smiling at her, but I can feel that I’ve hit a nerve. We climb out of the car and take the elevator up to the grounds in silence.

The doors open up to the sprawling school campus, consisting of a cluster of log cabins that have been decorated by the kids, and a horse stable, an indoor swimming pool and three tennis courts. A goat attached to a long rope greets the parents by nuzzling at their pockets.

“I can promise you that this won’t be your typical nativity play, at least. We chose this school because it’s very . . . progressive,” Emilia says, any trace of uneasiness now gone. “They’re all lunatics.”

We walk past the tennis courts and follow signs to the playhouse. Before we get there, Emilia stops and ducks around the corner of the toilets, beckoning me to follow her.

“Judging by Silver and Ophelia’s rehearsals, we’re going to need a little help,” Emilia says as she roots around in her bag. She pulls something out and inhales deeply from it, the smell of fresh weed filling the air. She coughs slightly and then holds out the little stick to me. “The best OG Kush you’ll ever find. Want some?”

I look down at it and she immediately flinches, closing her hand so that I can no longer see the vape.

“I’m so sorry. I’m clueless sometimes.”

I shrug. “Weed was never one of my problem areas.”

“Even so,” Emilia says, and then she smiles. “Able hates that I do this.”

Something about the wistful way she says it makes me wonder if she’s still thinking about what I said in the car.

“How long is this play?” I ask.

“Two hours,” Emilia says, making an apologetic face. I hold my hand out and after a moment she drops her vape into it. I run my finger over her initials embossed in gold.

“Thanks,” I say, taking it from her. I inhale once, and then twice, three times, only blowing out afterward. I immediately feel something happen, the warm tingling sensation growing as it spreads through my body. The world around me takes on a hazy, dreamlike quality, as if I can only really focus on one thing at a time.

When we walk back onto the path, the goat is staring at me. I nod at it and I’m not surprised when it politely nods back. I stifle a giggle as I follow Emilia through to the playhouse, an outdoor amphitheater with stone tiers around the stage and fairy lights laced around each level.

“The kids take most of their classes outside in the tree house. They have a goat-milking rotation,” Emilia informs me as we climb the steps, both of us struggling to keep a straight face. We choose seats near the back, and I can feel the effect of the weed even more now that I’ve stopped moving, a strange, warm feeling of contentedness slipping over me despite myself. I’m just wondering why I never really got into weed when, with the sun still high in the sky, the golden fairy lights flick on and I have to close my eyes because it all becomes too much of a moment.

The play starts, and I understand what Emilia meant. The story is hard to keep up with, an elaborate mix of Hanukkah, Christmas and Diwali celebrations, but when I recognize Silver and Ophelia shuffling onstage dressed as two candles in a human menorah, I find that I’m smiling, both corners of my mouth stretching even wider when Silver breaks character to wave at us.

For the nativity section, instead of frankincense, gold and myrrh, Jesus is given the gifts of acceptance, equality and kindness, as personified by three small children inexplicably dressed as two mermaids and a lobster. “Oh, sweet Jesus, spare us,” Emilia murmurs under her breath when the older kids, playing the shepherds, start a debate about the immaculate conception, which spitballs into a rap song about women’s reproductive rights over the years. When a boy comes out proudly dressed as a Roe v. Wade newspaper sandwich board, I can feel Emilia finally lose it next to me. She starts to laugh, and, when she lets out a loud snort, I can’t stop myself from grinning too. It could be the weed, but suddenly everything seems so insanely, improbably funny, and we’re both shaking with laughter. People eye us with a mixture of distaste and envy, and I feel like one of the lucky ones for a moment. A woman on the tier below us turns around to shush us, looking horrified. Her face changes instantly when she recognizes me, which only makes us laugh more. It’s the most I’ve laughed in a long time.