Girl Walks Into a Bar (28 page)

“Sure is, Michigan.”

Sound of a garbage truck outside. A horn honks for forty seconds.

“What about you, New York?”

“Huh?”

“You miss your old life?”

“Ahh. Not really.”

“Aw, go on, New York—you don’t miss it? The glitz? The glamour? The shrimp cocktail? The cocaine parties?”

“Nah.”

“Bein’ on live TV on Saturday nights? Rubbin’ elbows with Lorne Michaels and Steve Martin and Jimmy Eat World?”

“Are they a band?”

“Yeah, they played on the show.”

“Oh. I can’t remember some of these newer bands.”

“How ’bout Bruce Springsteen and Mick Jagger and Sting?”

“Yeah, those were some cool times.”

“How ’bout Will Ferrell and Maya and Ana and ol’ Parnsy?”

“Yeah, I miss the fellas….
What was that?
”

“It’s just the sirens from Beth Israel.”

“Oh. OK. I get so jumpy out here on four hours of sleep a night.”

“I know, New York. So do ya miss it?”

“You know what, Michigan? Yeah, I miss it sometimes, but
I had the experiences, and that’s enough for me. I wouldn’t trade Eli for an Emmy or a WGA or even a SAG award.”

“That’s good to know. What about an Oscar?”

“Nope. Not for an Oscar.”

“Good. ’Cause that would be some fucked-up shit. Trading your baby for an Oscar.”

“Did you just say the F-word, Michigan?”

“Yeah. I guess I did.”

“Well, I guess we ain’t so different after all.”

“I guess not, New York. I guess not.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

“Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams.”

Ten seconds pass.

“
WAAAAAAAAH! WAAAAAAAAH! WAAAAAAAAH!
”

“Are you gonna get him, New York?”

“Yup … I’ll get him.”

“
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
”

Epilogue

I feel that
the kind of work I was doing before this new job I have as a mom will eventually come around again. I’d love to do a comedy on Broadway at some point, and more TV. I’d love to do a funny part in a film, maybe in a kind of indie film that goes to Sundance and then gets released into the wider world. (Did I just put that out there into the
Universe
?!) For now, though, I’m enjoying all my free time to spend on what I had stopped imagining I might ever have. People will say to me, “So are you taking a hiatus from work to spend time with the baby?” and I say, “Uh … yeah … let’s call it a hiatus. That’s it. I’m taking a hiatus, by choice!”

And, luckily, my agent still calls now and then. Next time he calls, though, I’m not going to be surprised. I’ll know what to expect. I think it might go like this:

RRRIIIING RRRIIIING!

“Scott! What’s up?”

“Hey, Rachel. Got an offer for you. Now, I’m gonna warn
you, just hear me out ’cause I don’t know if you’re gonna wanna do it.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s the part of Marta…”

“OK, this already sounds like a fat person.”

“Yeah, well, it says in the script she’s obese, but—”

“I can just put my own spin on it.”

“Yeah, they want your spin. Now, you’d be playing Amy Poehler’s mother….”

“Are you joking?”

“No.”

“Anyway, Amy, Tina, and Maya are starring in this film. They are playing superheroes. The script is fantastic. It looks like it’s gonna be huge.”

“I’m sure it will.”

“And they want you to do a walk-on as Amy’s mother.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Still listening?

“Yup.”

“Now, Amy’s mother is from a mutant planet, so you’re not only obese but you’re a mutant.”

“So would it be, like, prosthetics or special effects?”

“No, no, no. It’s just you. You’re playing the mutant just on your own, no special makeup. With your spin on it. They like your facial expressions.”

“OK, I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment.”

“Oh, and also—”

“She’s a lesbian?”

“Yeah! On her planet, everyone’s a lesbian. You’re Amy Poehler’s mutant lesbian mother.”

“OK.”

“OK what?”

“OK, I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“I thought you said you wanted to get away from these kinds of parts.”

“I do.”

“So why are you doing it?”

“Well, if Hollywood sees me as an obese sixty-five-year-old lesbian mutant from another planet, then I guess that’s what I’ll be. I’ll just be laughing all the way to the bank.”

“It pays scale.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. ’Cause they kind of thought you might want to work with your friends, but if you don’t want to do it, they’re just going to give it to an unknown.”

“OK.”

“OK what?”

“I’ll still do it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you were gonna turn this one down.”

“Yeah, I would have before, but what the hell. I’m a trained and experienced comic actor! And I
think
I can be the best and funniest obese lesbian mutant the world has ever seen. Plus,
you know what they say! Work begets work, right? THAT’S WHAT THEY SAY! BLARGH!”

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just practicing a mutant voice.”

“Oh! You scared me! Sounds good! OK, well, I’ll let them know.”

“BYYYEEEE! THIS IS MARTA SIGNING OFF! MARTA THE MUTANT!”

“Bye, Rachel.”

“Bye.”

I will hang up the phone. I will put Eli into the BabyBjörn and walk over to the swings. As I walk with him against me, I will hold each of his little bare feet in each of my hands, swinging his legs as we go. I have his meaty feet on the palms of my hands and I play with his tiny toes.

There is no better feeling.

Acknowledgments

Thank you
to my literary agent, Lydia Wills, for the first push, for always insisting on referring to me as a “writer,” and for far too much to name after that. Thanks also to my editors, Jessica Sindler and Lauren Marino, for their invaluable second opinions every step of the way. And thanks to Scott Metzger for being my agent as well as my cheerleader.

Huge, huge mega-thanks to Ryan Shiraki and Megan Davis Collins for sharing the wise insights of the true writers they are
and the unlimited availability of the true friends they continue to be. I’d also like to acknowledge David Beach, Irene Bremis, Susan Williamson, and Catherine Burns for helping me when I needed an outside ear in the home stretch.

Thanks to Piccolo Café for letting me write this book there.

I’m eternally grateful to Lorne Michaels for giving me my big break, and also, Lorne, thanks for sending me flowers in the hospital after the birth! I don’t know if anyone’s told you this before, Lorne, but you’re a class act. Thanks to Mary Ellen Matthews, Tom Broecker, Eric Justian, Dana Edelson, and Kelly Leonard for helping with the book cover and with gathering photos. Also thanks to Hal Willner, Sheila Rogers, and Claire Mercuri for helping me get to Billy Joel, and to Mr. Joel for allowing me to reprint his breakdown-inducing lyrics.

To my brother, Dan, for being my first comedy partner, and to the Lexington Ladies for being my first unofficial improv group from elementary school onward. And heartfelt thanks to my parents, Elaine and Paul Dratch, for never telling me any aspiration was too crazy to pursue.

Finally, to John, thank you for your caring devotion to our son, for trusting me with our story, and last but not least, thank you for your turbo-sperm.