Authors: Saralee Rosenberg
Oops. Don't get ahead of yourself there,
I thought.
He'll probably turn out to be like the rest of his species. Amazing at first impressions, lousy at sustaining the charm. A great listener at the beginning, altogether deaf by the end.
Then there was that little matter of his being engaged. And yet I ran for that phone like it was my last free minutes forever.
“Hi,” Drew said. “Did I get you at a bad time?”
Yes! I was hoping it was you.
“Well, I'm kind of standing here in a towel. I was just about to jump in the shower.”
Oooh. Bad move. Poor guy will get blue balls from the mental image. Go on. Tell him how bad you smell.
But being the gentleman Drew was, he let it go. “Should I call you back?”
“No, I'm fine.”
I was just thinking of creative ways to end my life.
“How are you doing?”
“We've been really busy with all the arrangements. Not much time to think, which I guess is goodâ¦. Look, I only have a minute, but I wanted to find out if maybe you and your grandmother could come to my dad's for dinner tonight. Everyone wants to meet you.”
“Dinner?”
Excellent. Another occasion for which I have absolutely nothing to wear.
“Nothing fancy. The owner of the Rascal House is sending over some platters.”
“Thanks for thinking of us, but I'm afraid we can't. My grandmother's not feeling well. In fact, my parents⦔ I hesitated. I'd said the
p
word a million times, but now it sounded vulgar and inappropriate. “They're flying down as we speak.”
“Oh. Well, what if they watch her and you come by yourself? Viktor could pick you up.”
“Drew, it's just not a good time right nowâ¦weird stuff going on with my family.”
And yours!
“Okay. Well, look, I wasn't supposed to say anythingâ¦. You have to promise not to repeat thisâ¦but I told my Aunt Penny the whole story about you, how you tried to save Pops' life, and that you're a struggling actress, and, wellâ¦she wants to do something to repay your kindness.”
“She does?”
Are we talking cash reward, or valuable introductions?
“Yeah. But she really wants to tell you herself.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, screw it. What's the difference who tells you?”
“Uh-huh⦔
“See, she might be producing her first feature film next year. Part of a two-picture deal with Universal starring her, Meryl Streep, and I think Nick Nolte. No, wait. Maybe it was Nick Cage. Whatever. She'll tell you.”
“UH-HUH⦔
“Anyway, she's going to be casting for the part of her daughter, and I happened to mention that I thought you'd be perfect for the role because you two even look alike. So she said she would talk to you, maybe have you do a cold reading if you were interested.”
“Interested? Oh my God. Of course I'm interested. I don't know what to say.”
“That's why I wanted you to come for dinner. It'll be totally nuts after the funeral. And you know how crazy
shiva
calls get. At least tonight you'd get a chanceâ”
“What time?” I cut him off.
“Six? Six-thirty?” Drew laughed. “Now do you think you can make it?”
“Yes.”
“But pretend you had no idea, okay? Be cool. Aunt Penny is very big on dramatic gestures.”
“What?”
“Don't let on that you know. She likes to ride in on her white horseâ¦. Are you even listening to me? Claireâ¦I seem to be losing you.”
“Huh? Oh. Sorryâ¦Iâ¦umâ¦dropped my towel.”
“No, I'm sorry,” he said. Though he didn't say why. “See you tonight.”
Be careful what you wish for. Isn't that what they say?
You know how desperately I wanted to get a film offer. And now, equally important, a shower. Just five minutes of solitude with steamy water rushing down my back so that I could collect myself. Prepare for the most important meeting of my life. Decide what to say to my so-called parents before telling them I doubted I would ever forgive them for deceiving me.
That was the plan. Cleanse. Rejuvenate. Prepare for battle. Passing out in the shower was not on the agenda. But as the tension began to dissipate under the hot spray and I could fantasize about the stimulating chat I would have with Penny Nichol, a bone-chilling thought occurred to me. One that would turn an already eerie series of events into a grim, terrifying reality.
It began as a random stream of consciousness about the strange circumstances surrounding Abe Fabrikant's final moments. If it had been a Hollywood script whipped up by the wacky Coen brothers, the reviews would have said, “Clever, but unrealistic. This could never happen.”
But it had happened, and I couldn't stop focusing on the absurdity of it. There I was on a plane, reading some stupid article about Penny Nichol's fiftieth birthday celebration, while unbeknownst to me her father was seated to my left and in the middle of having a fatal heart attack. But wait, wait, waitâ¦how could he be HER father, and MY grandfatherâ¦unlessâ¦I was HER daughter? Impossible! Grams told me the name of the girl was Penelope. Yes, that's right. She said Abe's daughter was Penelope Fabrikant. Penelope refused to talk to her parents about having an abortion because their whole thing was saving people, not killing themâ¦. But wait. Wasn't Abe supposedly this great humanitarian?â¦And hadn't Grams said
the reason Penelope didn't want to keep the baby was because she was more interested in becoming an actress?
Do the math,
I thought.
You've got a fifty-year-old star, minus something that happened thirty years ago. That equals twenty. The age Penelope was when she had her baby.
People were always saying how much I looked like Penny. It's just something about your eyes⦔
Pennyâ¦. Penelopeâ¦such similar names. How could they both be Abe's daughters? Unlessâ¦OH MY GODâ¦
Then the little duck came to a beautiful actress who pulled in $23 million for her last two pictures, and just got a producing deal with a major studio.
“ARE YOU MY MOTHER?” the little duck said to the actress.
“You know who I am?” she said to her baby.
“You are a Hollywood star who is adored by late-night talk show hosts. You are my motherâ¦. And now you want to check me out to see if I could play your daughter in a film.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“How funny is that? If you had been a decent human being, and not a goddamn Long Island duck, I could have played your daughter for the past thirty years.”
After that little imaginary scene, I screamed to the high heavens, then grabbed hold of the faded blue plastic shower curtain. So Grams was right. She said I would faint when I heard the miserable truth about my past, and I did. But let's see how long it would take her to go down for the count after I told her I thought I knew what happened to that awful Penelope Fabrikant.
H
AD THIS PARTICULAR PREDICAMENT NOT HAPPENED TO ME,
I
WOULD
have found it hilarious. Right out of sitcom land. A pretty girl faints in a running shower and gets dragged to safety by two EMS guys who thought they won the lottery. According to the dispatcher, a call had come in about resuscitating an old woman who fell in the tub. Instead they found a naked model. Ka-ching!
Even more humiliating, when they asked Grams to find clothes for me, she ran for one of her cotton housedresses. The kind that had sucking candies in the pocket and carried the scent of eau de old lady. But the best part was finding myself in a pair of underpants so huge, two of my legs could have fit through one hole.
I felt like Dorothy, fresh from Oz. Between my lovely octogenarian ensemble and the realization that a crowd had assembled around me, it was a wonder I didn't pass out again.
There stood Grams, Lillian (now in civilian attire), the EMS guys, a few assorted neighbors who wanted to know where all the furniture went, and those same annoying cops, who, upon learning of more trouble in 6F, returned to investigate.
In my first seconds of consciousness, they all appeared filtered and blurry, as if the wrong lens had been popped on a camera body. I heard voices, but the sounds were muffled and unfamiliar. Slowly, the veil of ignorance was lifted, and tiny puzzle pieces snapped into place. It was morning in Florida. I knew that because my nose was
stuffed and my eyes itched. I also had a serious migraine. But why was I lying on the floor? Oh yeah. Grams wasn't into furniture anymore. And now I remembered that wasn't the only kind of lying. My parents weren't really my parentsâ¦I wasn't really Claire Greene. I was an old woman with zero taste in clothes.
“What the hell am I wearing?” My hoarse voice croaked.
“She's up!” Grams clapped. “She woke up.”
“Get this thing off of me.” I tugged at the snaps.
“What! It's my best housedressâ¦butterscotch candies in the pocketâ¦your favorite.”
“Maybe later.” I tried stretching the stiff cotton shift past my knees. “What happened?”
“
Oy, oy, oy,
Claire.” Grams' pale skin telegraphed her fright. “You fainted in the shower. Thank God you didn't lock the door like when you were littleâ¦. You scared me half to death.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Wasn't it the other way around? You scared me after telling meâ”
“
Oy.
These crazy kids today.” She cut me off. “Running in the hot sun, starving themselves⦔
“I'm Enrique.” A paramedic placed a blood pressure cuff on my arm. “How are you feeling?”
“A little dizzy. I have a headache. My throat is killing me.”
“That's all to be expected. You vomited when you fellâ¦aspirated down the lungsâ¦.”
I shivered. “Could I please have some juice, Grams?”
“What kind? I got orange, tomato, pruneâno, wait, the orange wasn't on special last weekâ”
“Anything but prune.” I studied Enrique's eyes to see how concerned he looked.
“Don't worry, Claire. I got plenty of orange juice,” Lillian piped in. “And I'm right next door. Who doesn't have orange juice? We're in Florida, for God's sake.”
“We got a little apple juice left.” A small bald man raised his hand.
“That's not good for fainting, Herb,” his wife argued. “She needs something nice and strong to get her energy back.”
“Like a martini,” I mumbled. “Make mine a double.”
“Don't worry, sweetheart.” She patted my hand. “I'll get you a V-8. You'll be up in no time.”
Yeah. To shit my brains out.
“Can you tell us what happened?” The paramedic asked. “Do you know what brought this on?”
“I'll tell you exactly,” Grams said. “She eats like a bird. Goes a whole day with nothing.”
“Would you stop? I have a very good appetite.” I turned to him. “It's just that I hadn't gotten a chance to eat yet this morning, and then I learned some very shocking newsâ”
“But she's going to be okay, right, Doc?” Grams butted in.
“I'm sure she'll be fine, ma'am.” He chuckled at the reference to his presumed medical degree. “Claire, are you taking any medications, any anxiety pills, antidepressantsâ”
“No, but soon I'll be taking all of them.”
“Are you experiencing any other symptoms? Nausea, blurred vision, extreme fatigueâ”
“All of the above, but so would you if you found outâ”
“She suffered severe emotional trauma this morning,” Lillian stated for the court.
“Lillian, go get the juice,” Grams bellowed. “And mind your own goddamn business.”
The paramedic rolled his eyes. “Is there any possibility you're pregnant?”
“No, a course not,” Grams answered. “What kind a question is that to ask a young girl? Do you see a wedding ring?”
I had to snicker. Did she really think I was still a virgin? Good God. If anyone should know you didn't need a marriage license to have a baby, it was her. I was living proof!
“No, I'm not pregnant,” I said.
“Well, that's good, because you took quite a spill thereâ¦. We'd like to run you over to Aventura Hospital now. Have them examine you for any possible internal injuries, run some tests.”
“No, that's okay. Really. I'm fine. I just need to eat something.
Have some juiceâ¦find my real clothes before someone thinks I'm well preserved for eightyâ¦.”
“I don't know, miss. You've got a pretty decent-sized contusion on the back of your head. And a fall like yours can lead to all kinds of problems. Spinal, neck, and back pain, blood clots, you name it. If I was you, I'd be seen, just as a precaution.”
“Okay, but I'm not letting them admit me.”
“That's up to the neurology consultâ”
“Because I have a very important meeting this evening, and I can'tâ”
“What kinda meeting?” Grams asked. “Your parents are coming in.”
Some parents!
“I don't care. I was invited to the Fabrikants' for dinner, and I'm going.”
“See! What did I tell you, Gert?” Lillian poked her shoulder. “Didn't I say this would be nothing but trouble?”
“It's nothing but trouble every time you open your big trap. Claire, why
schlep
there for supper? I made that nice meatloaf you like.”
Perfect! Serve it to my wonderful parents.
“I'm not going over to eat, Grams. I'm going to⦔
She looked so panicky and bewildered, I didn't have the heart to finish my sentence.
“If we're taking you over to Aventura, we really should be going.” Enrique packed his bag.
“Give me a minute to find my clothes. I am not going out in public like this.”
“What! It's my best housedress!”
“You want us to drive you, Gert?” Herb, the good neighbor, asked.
“What for? I'll ride with Claire in the ambulance. I don't take up much space.”
“But how will you and Claire get home, dear?” Mrs. Herb asked. “You don't have a car.”
“Go with them, Grams,” I said. “It's a good idea.”
“I don't know. Now I'm thinkin' maybe it's better if I wait here for Leonard and Roberta. They might worry if we're not home.”
“So? Who gives a shit what they think?”
“See?” Lillian shook her finger in Grams' face. “What did I tell you? She's starting with the attitude. From now on it's gonna be nothin' but aggravation.”
Â
I was not a frequent fainter. In fact, up until this day, the only other time I could recall blacking out was when I was twenty-three and about to marry Marc Melman, a stunning and brilliant law student at GW I'd met at a bar in D.C. one weekend while I was visiting a sorority sister.
Still, I never expected that within months I would be wearing a three-carat rock that made my friends' engagement rings look like those little starter stones from the mall. I was a lucky girl, all right. Everyone loved Marc. Envisioned our amazing life together. The beautiful family, the fancy sports cars, the amazing house in suburban Virginia once he made partner.
In fact, everything was going swell until Marc convinced me that he and I weren't really the “big wedding” types. I frankly hadn't known that about myself. But I was young then. And so intent on being the dutiful fiancée. Suddenly I didn't care about the Carolina Herrera silk gown that according to
Brides
magazine would cost more than my first semester at Indiana. Our love transcended overpriced apparel.
Only trouble then was I had this ever-so-slight question about my intended's sexual preference. Especially one night when I realized Marc was having a far better time with the bartender than with me. That's when the bells went off. And they weren't wedding bells.
I tossed my too-die-for diamond in his beer and joined the legion of “almost brides.” The wedding dropouts who never looked back and, in my case, who never dreamed of a big wedding again. Especially after finding out from the “almost best man” that my instincts were right on.
So no, I wasn't in the habit of fainting, I told Enrique in the ambulance. “Twice every thirty years is hardly a trend.”
“Calm down.” He checked my pulse. “You took a big spill, but you're gonna be fine.”
“Then why is my neck in a collar?”
“Because with head traumas, there is always the possibility of spinal cord injuries.”
“But look.” I sat up. “See? I'm fine.”
“Lie still, okay? After the fall you took, you're lucky to be in one piece.”
“Oh, I know. I'm feeling very lucky.”
So lucky that I started praying to the Angel of Death. If he was in the neighborhood, and it wasn't too much trouble, maybe he could stop by, as I had decided I was ready to return to the other side. No need for any theatrics. Didn't have to see the white lights, or feel my body and soul separate. I would just check out quietly rather than have to suffer the rest of my days in pain.
This sounds melodramatic, I know. And where was the gratitude that I didn't have a truly life-threatening disease or injury? Trouble was, I couldn't help myself. Once again I felt like Dorothy, after finding out how much Oz sucked.
The Wicked Witch of the West was presumably my birth mother, now operating under an altered name and face. Lenny and Roberta were the cowardly lions for deceiving me. And the nice wizard, Abe Fabrikant, was about to be buried six feet under. So if I couldn't be back in Kansas with Toto, couldn't I just click my ruby slippers and be DOA at Aventura Hospital?
“Feeling sorry for yourself?” An old man examined my skin condition and respiration.
“Maybe,” I said, trying to place his soft, translucent face.
“Sounds to me like self-pity.”
“Really? And what makes you the expert?”
“I'm quite familiar with the expressions people make when they're feeling troubled.”
“You're confusing it with pain. I have a major headache. What happened to Enrique?”
“I'm helping him out for a little while,” he answered in a deep, radio-announcer voice.
“Who are you? Do I know you?” Where had I seen those broad jowls and twinkly blue eyes?
“We met briefly,” he sighed. “I see that you're wondering what you did to deserve all this.”
“That's right. I'm feeling a little sorry for myself. But how great would you feel after finding out that everything you thought was true and good in your life was just one huge cover-up? A lie.”
“Even the truth is never what it seems. And you were not lied to.”
“How do you know?” I blinked really hard, unsure of to whom or to what I was talking.
“I know this: It's too soon to be the judge and the jury. Take your time before rendering a verdict.”
I shivered as I reached over to touch the man's white, silky hair. “Mr. Fabrikant?”
“No, it's Enrique.” He gently placed my arm by my side. “Do you know where you are?”
“I think so. Yesâ¦no. Not sureâ¦.”
I suddenly felt my eyes roll behind my head and my skin turn clammy.
“Aw, crap.” Enrique yelled up to the driver, “She's going into shock.” He grabbed the oxygen mask from the wall panel and placed the cup over my nose and mouth. “What the hell just happened to her? It's like she was fine, and then she got spooked by something.”
If ever there was an understatement!