Field Notes on Love(11)

Of all the films she’s ever made, this one is closest to her own life. Someone else did the acting—a girl from school who’d been the star of every play and was eager to use it for her audition reel—but the rest of it was Mae, her story laid out for anyone who wanted to see.

“It’s about a girl with two dads who lives in the Hudson Valley,” she says to Garrett, an edge to her voice. “What could be more personal than that?”

“I know it’s about you,” he says. “That’s really obvious. The problem is that it doesn’t feel like you.”

“Well,” she says stiffly, “maybe you don’t actually know me.”

Garrett looks surprised. “Maybe I don’t. But that’s not really my fault, is it?”

Mae almost wants to laugh, but it gets stuck in her throat. Nobody has ever accused her of being mysterious before. In fact, she’s never had a problem speaking her mind. When she was eight, she showed up at a town hall held by her congressman and gave an impassioned speech in defense of gay marriage. When it was finally legalized in the state of New York, she sent him a postcard that read No thanks to you. Once, she broke up a fight between two boys on the street and ended up with a black eye of her own. And every so often, she likes to wander into the comments section of her favorite film channel and write impassioned rebuttals to all the idiots who feel threatened by female remakes of their childhood favorites.

    She is not exactly a wallflower.

Garrett squints at her, trying to figure out his next move. “Come on, Mae. We both know you’re not the best at—”

“What?” she demands.

He hesitates, then shrugs. “Letting people in.”

“That’s not true.”

“See?” he says. “If you can’t even allow yourself to be introspective in this conversation, how are you ever gonna do it in your films?”

There’s a hint of arrogance in his face as he says this, and for a second, Mae can see what her dads have been talking about all summer. But then his expression softens again, and he reaches for her hand, and she steels herself for whatever he’s going to say next, which is probably that she really shouldn’t be steeling herself against anything at all.

“You’re obviously super talented. But the difference between a good film and a great one has nothing to do with jump cuts and cool techniques. It’s about showing people who you are.”

Mae opens her mouth to argue with this, but he hurries on.

“We both know you have a lot to say,” he tells her, offering a smile even as she untangles her hand from his. “You just have to get out of your own way and actually say it.”

“I did,” she says.

Garrett shakes his head. “You didn’t. Not yet.”

    “But—”

He holds up a hand. “Just think about it for a while before telling me I’m wrong, okay? The point of criticism is to help you get better, and that’s all I’m trying to do.”

“Fine,” Mae says with some amount of effort. “Then…thanks. I guess.”

“You’re welcome,” he says magnanimously. He glances down at her phone, which he’s still holding. “Oh, and Priyanka texted while I was watching. I tried to swipe it away and accidentally opened the link she sent.”

Mae’s head is still swimming with thoughts about the film, but she reaches for the phone and stares blankly at the screen, which is open to an unfamiliar social media platform.

“Apparently some kid is looking for a Margaret Campbell to go on a train with him,” Garrett says, leaning forward to look. “Crazy, right? That’s so close to your name.”

“It is my name,” she mutters, already skimming the message.

He shrugs. “I’m sure it’s just some creepy fifty-year-old trying to meet someone.”

Mae bristles at this, though she’s not sure why. He may be right. But there’s something about the tone of the message that makes her believe it.

“I wonder who’ll go,” he says. “It would be such a weird thing to do.”

“Would it?” she asks, looking up.

“To go off with a complete stranger?” he says, looking at her incredulously. “Yeah. Besides, the trains here are the worst. Eurail is really the way to do it. I think I’m gonna start with Amsterdam next month.”

    “Cool,” Mae says, but she’s hardly listening. She’s too busy reading the post again. So if your name is Margaret Campbell and you’re interested in a bit of an adventure…

Garrett watches her for a moment, and something in his face shifts. “You’re not actually thinking about this,” he says, and though it started out as a question, it lands flat-footed and certain, a statement meant to convey how ridiculous that would be. “A week on a train with some random dude?”

“You’re not jealous, are you?” Mae teases, but the expression on his face tells her that she’s right. She inches forward so that their knees are touching and gives him a serious look. “I thought we decided—”

“We did,” he says quickly. “But now that I’m leaving, I just…”

“I know,” she says, though she doesn’t. Not really. She thinks again of the way Priyanka had felt about Alex’s departure, the hours of crying and the constant texts flying between them, the two of them desperate to bridge the sudden distance. Mae feels none of that with Garrett, and his words bob to the surface again: We both know you’re not the best at letting people in.