Claire Voyant (26 page)

I thought about both Grams' and Drew's insistence that I call my parents to basically make amends and move on. Easy for them to say. I thought about Drew's dilemma with Marly and the baby and shuddered at the thought that I had actually suggested it was okay for him to look the other way. But mostly I thought about me.

Life as I knew it was over. So now what? Should I stay in Miami and take a shot at a relationship with a man who could decide to marry the mother of his child? Or should I try to forget Drew, stay down here anyway, and start my life over? Maybe work for Pablo at Case de Miro for a little while, just to have a place to go in the morning?

Perhaps it would be best if I packed up and returned to New York, home of the world's finest therapists (or rather, the most therapists). After serving time on the couch, I would consider adopting a foster child, so that I would have someone with whom I could commiserate when talking about how much life sucked for kids with substitute parents.

Or maybe I should just return to my old life in L.A., spend my days reading the trades, hunting down producers, then begging them for a chance to be cast in their new whatever…. Scrap that. I couldn't just show up in Santa Monica and pretend that I'd taken a short hiatus to visit the folks.

Mostly I couldn't fathom being in the same town as my mother the big star, knowing that she could put my career into play with one lousy phone call, but since she couldn't even be bothered to speak to me, it was doubtful she would do something helpful on my behalf.

Clearly none of the above options were appealing. But they did remind me how much I missed Sydney. Unlike my grandmother, she would be happy to hear from me, and she always knew the right thing to say when I was confused.

I grabbed my cell and went back out on the balcony. Turns out I was half right. Sydney was thrilled to hear from me and to learn that I was feeling better. But rather than being the shoulder I needed, she monopolized the conversation.

I'd forgotten how complicated her life could get, between her crazy boyfriends, her crazy parents and their assorted spouses, and her crazy jobs that always seemed to require tasks that bordered on insane, if not illegal.

I listened patiently, as I always did, but it bothered me that she was failing to appreciate the enormity of what was going on in my life. And that, for once, what was happening to me was more important than what was happening to her.

When I realized that the part of the conversation where I would unburden myself was never going to happen, and maybe with Sydney it never had, I begged off, citing the need to get ready for my daily brain scan/spinal tap/blood transfusion. It's possible that got her attention, but I wouldn't know. I had already hung up.

Who else could I call that would be willing to listen to me? Viktor, certainly. But the poor man had already been saddled with enough of my problems. He deserved a rest. Elyce? She could be a good listener, but after dodging so many of her calls, I knew I would be subjected to endless wedding chatter.

Yesterday she'd left a message that her other (more dutiful) bridesmaids had decided to splurge on a four-day cruise to the Bahamas in lieu of a bachelorette party, and I should let her know right away if I wanted a single or a double cabin.

I thought of a few other people who might be decent candidates for a heart-to-heart conversation, but no one who really understood me. Until a name popped into my head.

“Good afternoon. Greene and Levinson.”

“Hey, Linds. It's me. What's up?”

“This isn't Linds. It's Diana. Who is this?”

“Oh. Hi. I'm sorry. I thought you were my sister. This is Claire Greene. Where is Lindsey?”

“Who?”

“Lindsey Greene. Leonard's other daughter?”

“What department is she in?”

“Department? Last I looked, it was just my dad and his partner, Marvin.”

“Can you please hold? The phones are going crazy. Don't people know it's Saturday?”

“Never mind.”

I hit “end,” and then punched in the speed dial number for a cell phone number that I should have called first. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Claire, is that you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what do you know? Nice to finally hear from you. To what do I owe the honor?”

I thought about bantering with him, but it was a little like needing to pee really bad. There just wasn't time.

“Everything is a mess,” I blurted. “And I don't know what to do.”

Then, just as with the hundreds of calls to my father that preceded this one, those were my last coherent words before the dam burst, and I cried like only a Daddy's girl could.

W
HEN
I
FIRST MOVED TO
L.A., I
IMMEDIATELY WENT INTO THERAPY,
under the pretense that I had to be crazy to live there. In one session, I was asked to describe my father, and I remember passing go, not stopping to collect my two hundred dollars. “He's pigheaded, close-minded, arrogant, rude, impatient, and a major pain in the ass,” I said.

“And what are his attributes?”

For that I had to stop and think. “He always knows what to do,” I replied.

And it was true. No matter what kind of problem I presented him—a school problem, a personal problem, a work problem—he relied on his accountant, life-is-black-or-white mindset. There was no place for emotion in the equation. Every problem could be reduced to a simple, logical solution.

And so, just as I had done all my life, I unburdened myself on my father once again.

I told him about my growing affection for Drew, and the sad possibility that he would end up staying with Marly and the baby. I told him about the phone call from Penny that ended in a hang-up. About my confusion about where to live and what to do with my life. But mostly about how conflicted I was about him and my mother. That I couldn't understand why everyone was insisting that I should be the one to try to work things out, as if this whole situation were my fault.

To his credit, he never interrupted. Never made a snide comment.
He just listened. Churned the issues in his computerlike brain, then spit out his answers with militarylike precision.

“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “First thing is Drew…. I like the boy, I do. He's a sweet kid. Seems like he's on the ball. But this isn't the best time for either of you to get involved, and timing is everything. The right person at the wrong time still doesn't add up. I'm not saying don't ever be with him, although it's going to look strange to a lot of people, the whole cousin thing, but the lawyers will cut to the chase on that one…. I'm saying for right now you've got enough on your head without adding more complications. If there's really something there, it'll still be there six months from now, too.”

“Six months? Are you serious? I can't wait that long. I really, really like him, Daddy. He's not like anyone I've ever met before. He's smart, and cute, and—”

“Rich.” My father snorted. “God, does that family have money. You don't even know….”

“Yeah, but it's not like he flaunts it. He took me shopping at Target this morning, and he bought just as much stuff as I did.”

“Really? Who paid?”

“Daddy!…He did.”

“You know, I thought you'd go for him. I even said to your mother, you watch, Claire. She's going to go for this one.”

“Really? Why?”

“Are you kidding? He's tall, dark, and handsome, he's going to inherit an estate one day, that's, phew…what a life you'd have….”

“It's not the money I like. I like him. Who he is as a person.”

“So, fine. If he's that terrific, be friends. Just don't go jumping into the sack with him. Especially if he's trying to figure out what to do with the other one…and what a nutcase she is.”

“I know. She is so full of herself.”

“Well, whatever. You don't want him thinking about her while he's
shtupping
you.”

“Daddy!”

“What! You know what I'm saying…. If this is meant to be, it'll be.”

“I guess.”

“Now, as for your mother and me—”

“I know what you're going to say. I owe you both an apology.”

“You bet your sweet ass! Your mother is devastated. She can't eat, she can't sleep—”

“I'm sorry, but she—”

“No. Uh-uh. There are no buts. You said some pretty shitty things, kiddo, and it broke her heart…. We know your issues. So, fine, we should have told you. But we can't take it back. We made the decisions we thought were right at the time, and now they're coming back to haunt us. But don't question our love for you. Don't question our pride or our devotion. There wasn't a day that went by that we weren't in your corner trying to be good parents.

“God! It just killed me when you said we were too cheap to send you to that acting camp. But you weren't aware that I found out from a buddy of mine that the owner was operating under bankruptcy protection. So what should I have done? Sent in the four grand, and waited for the letter that says,
Sorry. We're not opening this season. For refunds, the line forms to the left, and maybe you'll get twenty cents on the dollar?
”

“I didn't know that.”

“No, of course not. There are lots of things you didn't know. That's what parents do. They shelter their kids from the things they shouldn't have to know.” He sighed. “Look, I can understand where you're coming from. You see what Mom and I did as some kind of Watergate cover-up. But that's not how it was, kiddo…. You were a newborn when this happened…too young to ever have any recollections…. I don't know. At the time it seemed like the smart thing to do. To just love you and raise you as our own and say to hell with the past. I think we honestly expected we'd tell you one day. Everyone we talked to, the Rabbi, family, friends, this child psychiatrist we went to…they all said the same thing: When the time is right, you'll tell her. But the years went by, and that time never came…. And don't get me wrong. You were a bright kid. Maybe too smart for your own good. I knew if we told you even a little bit,
you'd ask a million questions, and we'd end up telling you more than you could have handled.

“And then there was a point, I don't know, you were maybe sixteen, when we realized we'd lost our big chance. By then you were in your angry, rebellious stage, and hitting you with something like this would have been the push you needed to do something stupid like get into drugs or go run off with that idiot biker you liked, what was his name…”

“Kevin Albright.”

“Yeah, That guy. I swear, when I found out you were sneaking around with him, I almost locked you up and threw away the key. What was he, like nineteen, twenty? My precious Claire, riding around town on the back seat of a Harley with some unemployed grease monkey who couldn't keep his hands off you. You have no idea how many sleepless nights I had over that one.

“Anyway, dear. What I'm trying to say is I love you, I have always loved you, and from the day I held you, I gave you my word to honor and protect you, and to try to give you the best life that I could.”

“You did, Daddy,” I cried. “You gave me a great life. It was perfect, actually. I had everything I ever needed. A great family, lots of friends, a nice house, I got to go to camp every year, you bought me anything I asked for, we took all those great trips….”

“Now, don't cry, sweetheart. Please. You know what that does to me.”

“And I'm so sorry. I know I said some awful things. I was just in shock. Everything came from out of nowhere, and you know how bad I am when I get blindsided. I completely freak out.”

“We know. But it would sure be a big help if you called your mother for Mother's Day. Tell her you love her and you're sorry.”

“Oh God. Is that tomorrow?”

“All day.”

“Should I send flowers?”

“No. She just wants to know you're okay and that you don't hate her.”

“I don't hate her. Not that I don't have my issues with her. But I guess I did sort of go a little overboard.”

“A little overboard? Jesus, Claire. The only thing you didn't accuse her of was trying to steal your boyfriends.”

“Hmmm. I always thought she had her eye on the biker guy,” I laughed. “Anyway, I promise I'll call and apologize.”

“I'm sure she'd love to hear it…. And as for the other mother, if you could even call her that—”

“Oh my God, I still can't get over the fact that she hung up on me. Who hangs up on her only child?”

“I think you should go out there and talk to her,” he said.

“What?”

“Yeah. Tell her how you feel. Lord knows you've got a big enough mouth. You shouldn't have a hard time figuring out what you want to say.”

“You can't be serious.”

“Why not? You're never going to get better until you do, and it's not as if you need her for anything. You already have a mother.”

“I don't know, it would just be too weird.”

“Well, don't not do it because you think we'd be upset. We're not threatened by the old coward. I just think if you don't go duke things out with her now, it'll eat you up inside forever.”

“I guess…. I mean, it's not like I haven't thought about what I'd say to her.”

“Exactly.”

“But it's so obvious she doesn't want to talk to me. What am I supposed to do, camp out at her front door and hope she lets me in?”

“I bet Ben could set something up for you. He seems like a pretty decent guy.”

“He is. But what are you saying? I should ask him to make an appointment for me so I could speak to my own mother?”

“Not an appointment. I don't know, tell her you want to meet for a drink. Keep it casual.”

“I can't believe you're telling me to do this, especially after you walloped her in the face.”

“Oh…didn't know if you knew about that little episode.”

“Yeah. I heard. Anyway, I couldn't go out there right now. I don't have enough money for cab fare, let alone airfare.”

“I figured as much…. But what the hell? Consider it a peace offering. It's the least I could do…and JetBlue flies to Long Beach now.”

“You really love that airline, don't you?”

“If they don't go, I don't go…but no, really. Look into making a reservation…. And as for your meeting with the lawyers on Monday—”

“Okay, now, that I am definitely sorry about. I promise you, whatever I get, I'm sharing with you and Mommy.”

“That's lovely, dear, thank you. But here's something you don't hear the old man say every day. You were right. It's not our money, it's yours. If you want my advice on investing or whatever, fine—”

“Thanks…but do you think…would you…is there any chance you could come in?”

“For what? The meeting on Monday?”

“Yes.”

“No. Can't. I've got a full day already. But it's at a lawyer's office. Just have them put me on speaker phone before you get started. It'll be like I'm right there.”

“I guess that works…. And I meant what I said before. I have no idea how much I'm getting, but consider it family money.”

“Well, that's very sweet of you, dear, but let's find out how much you'll owe Uncle Sam before you start handing out checks.”

“Thanks, Daddy…for everything. I do love you and Mommy.”

“We know.”

“And I appreciate all of your advice.”

“It's my job.”

“Except there is one thing I can't do.”

“What?”

“I'm not going to be able to stay away from Drew. In fact, right now all I can think about is
shtupping
his little brains out.”

“Good God, Claire. I'm your father…show some respect.”

“Sorry.”

“And at least promise to use protection. Nothing's worse than being second in line for child support.”

 

I was glad to hear Gram's key in the door. I couldn't wait to tell her about the nice conversation with my Dad, and that things looked like they might be okay after all. But when she walked in, she was so pleased with her afternoon adventure, it was as if she'd forgotten I was there.

Mind you, I was thrilled that she was finally enjoying herself. I was just surprised how little she cared about hanging with me. Gabbing like old times. Feeding me until I wanted to puke. Instead, she announced a change of plans. She was meeting friends for supper, then they were going over to the clubhouse to hear a comedian.

“He used to play up at Grossingers,” she informed me. “Want to come?”

“No. It's fine. I'll just…” But I couldn't think fast enough to finish my sentence.

“Whatsa matter?”

“Nothing. I think I'll call Drew, and see what he's up to.”

“So now you're friends with Abe's grandson?”

“Yes. He's been very nice to me.”

“Well, if you ask me, I think he's sweet on you.”

“You do?”

“Sure. I seen the way he looks at you…not like he looks at that
meshugina
he's marrying.”

“Maybe not. They're sort of an on again, off again couple.”

“Smart kid…. 'Cause if you ask me, she could use a good
zetz
across that little heiny of hers.”

“I know…but, um…what would you think about Drew and me?”

Grams stopped fussing with her hair in the mirror.

“I mean, nothing has happened yet, of course.”
Except for one hot shower. And I do mean hot!

“They got laws against that sort of thing, you know.”

Taking a shower together?
“Oh, you mean the cousin connection.
But it's not like that, Grams. We're not blood relatives. Drew is actually Ben's adopted son, so it's okay.”

“You really like this fella.” Her hips swayed.

I nodded.

“So whadaya think is going to happen?”

“I wish I knew. Things are pretty complicated.”

“Too bad we're not in the old neighborhood no more. There was a fella we would go to…he had special powers, see.”

“Are you serious, Grams? You went to a psychic?”

“Course not. The sons-of-bitches take your money and give you nothin' but cock-and-bull stories. And how come, if they're so smart, you don't hear about them winnin' the lottery? But this fella, he wasn't like that. He owned a coffee shop. And in between customers, he'd tell us things.”