December Rain (15 page)

“Even if it’s in San Francisco?”

“Especially if it’s in San Francisco.” He nods as if to say, “Duh.” “Who wouldn’t want to be there?” He has such a brotherly tone as he leans against her desk. “Let’s just play it by ear. It’s not the best time to make huge drastic decisions... but sometimes a big change is the only way to move forward.” He nods. “So let’s just... play it by ear.”

“Deal. Thanks.” Monica reaches for his hand and gives a little squeeze. He takes the cue and turns to leave.

Buzzzz...

She grabs her vibrating phone. A text.

ALEX: what time can you come to sign these papers?

Shit! I forgot.

MONICA: is 6 ok?

She waits, staring for minutes for a response.

ALEX: fine

Five o’clock rolls around and people start making excuses to leave as if they need to.
They’re so predictable.

The network cuts were finished last week, and no executives will be around to ask for anything for at least two weeks. She says her goodbyes and drops into her car, soon driving to a ring tone.

“Hey,” Quinn’s voice says with caution.

“So you wanna fly me all the way from New York to Hawaii for two days then turn around and hang out in San Francisco?”

“Okay. Let me explain. I know it’s crazy what I’m asking you. I don’t really want to do all this myself, but I have to and the thought of not seeing you during the holidays is unacceptable. I thought about just telling everyone to fuck-off but it would do a lot of damage.”

“I wouldn’t want you to do that. I’ve just never done that much flying before.”

“Me neither. Hawaii just crept up yesterday.”

“What’s so urgent there?”

“I’ve got a contractor working on my house there who finished early and wants to leave the island.” Quinn barely takes a breath as he rambles on. “And also the big painting sold and I need to sign it by next Wednesday... the guys’ giving it to his wife for Christmas and they get to the island on the twenty-ninth and-”

“The painting of us?”

Quinn closes his eyes and smiles. “Yes.”

“It feels strange, knowing someone will have that in their house.” Monica pulls into the twenty-five mile an hour freeway crawl of brake lights.

“I know, it’s actually the first time I’ve been a little disappointed that one sold,” he says.

“We could have put that in your bedroom. Those walls are too bare,” she says.

“I can paint another one. I’ll make it any size we want.”

“Don’t you sign them when you’ve finished?”

“I sign the front, but I usually put something personal on the back for special buyers. It adds something unique to the value.”

“I never thought of that. That’s cool. You know your work is pretty unique on its own though right?”

“You’re so sweet. Arlene and Rick put the pressure on for this one though. I promise we can go back for longer in February or March if you want. I can paint there… we can relax.”

“So what’s the rush back to San Francisco?”

Quinn exhales heavily. “Big meeting next Friday. A curator from the SF MOMA wants to talk.”

“MOMA’s huge! Oh my god!”

“It’s just a meeting. There’s a lot of them lately, disguised as lunches and brunches... it’s exhausting. The politics of the schmooze has taken over my life. But people are getting it.”

“You’re crazy. You know that right? This ‘ill be jet-lag city.”

“So let’s be crazy.” He laughs… “I can’t miss the meeting, and Amber did a guilt number on me so I can’t bail on Christmas again, and I don’t wanna pay the final payment to the contractor without seeing the work...”

She tunes out his reasons and drifts into her own.
I’d get to meet his niece… and parents. And see Jay and Megan again… tempting. Hawaii again so soon...

“It’s going to suck without you… you have to come. It’ll be like going on tour. Bands do it all the time.”

Monica laughs. “So you want me to be your groupie?”

“Hell yeah!”

“Do I get to do naughty things to earn my keep?”

“I’m counting on it,” he laughs.

“I’m so proud of you,” she says. “You know that right? I feel so lucky to get to watch this unfold. Your career is just blasting off and it’s so exciting.”

“You’re a huge reason it’s even happening.”

“How do ya figure?”

“You’re my muse. You’re the obsession I needed.”

She bites her lip changing lanes. “That could be really creepy-”

“I know. Just thought that!” Quinn says, coughing through laughter.

“But it’s really the sexiest thing ever said too.”

Quinn smiles. “Oh yeah?

“Yeah. Kinda making my hand slide inside my shirt.”

“Aren’t you driving?”

“If you want to call this driving. It’s more like a cattle herd.”

“I mean, how can you not touch those soft breasts all day? In the car, out of the car...”

“Ha! You know... you forget about them.”

“Impossible.”

“No. It’ll happen. Eventually, even you will forget about them.”

“Not possible. I think of them every day... multiple times.”

Monica giggles. “There are times when I feel like I discover them again.” She slides a free hand slowly inside the lacy edge of her bra. “When I remember how soft they are.”

“How perfect they are. Your nipples are perfection. Symmetrical perfection. The most delicate shade of pink.” He inhales deep and closes his eyes as her cheeks flush.

“Shit!” She nearly misses the exit and has to cut someone off to get over in time. “Maybe it’s not a good idea to fondle myself in traffic.” She puts her hand back on the wheel and looks around embarrassed.

“I think it’s a better idea if I fondle you in traffic,” he says.

She laughs as her cheeks give way to the biggest smile of the day. “Oh yeah? That would probably be more dangerous.”

“You love dangerous,” he taunts.

“I do,” she says, then a strange feeling floods through her veins as she parks on the street. “I have to call you back in a bit. I’m at Alex’s.”

Quinn is quiet for a few long seconds. “O-Okay.”

“I have to sign the papers to put the house on the market. It won’t take long. I’ll call you when I’m back in traffic.” She tries to sound playful.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll be here.”

She ends the call and hesitates getting out.
This is so strange. You can do this.
She gets out and walks along the concrete path into the complex. A sign points towards the stairs for apartments numbered in the twenties. The small apartment complex is situated around a beautiful courtyard with barbecues and tables with umbrellas. Further down is a pristine swimming pool all lit up and steaming.

He doesn’t even like swimming. Does he like it here? It must suck compared to our house. Such a step backwards.
She knocks below the brassy twenty-three. Alex opens with a forced smile looking just as awkward. Lacey stands behind him with her tail twitching.

“Hey.” He stands stiff for a moment.
She doesn’t look like she’s been crying. That’s good. She actually looks great! Happy maybe? Gotta be Quinn. How did I not notice before?
“Oh, sorry.” He shakes his thoughts and reluctantly motions for her to enter.

Monica immediately bends down to kiss Lacey and give her a hug. “Hey girl. How you doing? You settled in?”
Oh I miss you so much! Stop. You can’t cry.
Monica gets up and pats her on the head as she walks into the main room.

The apartment is rectangular in every way. No mouldings or character. White walls and vertical blinds. Cheap carpet and linoleum topped with eclectic furniture pieces she doesn’t recognize. The only familiar item is Lacey’s bed right next to the couch.

“That’s a nice couch,” she says.

“Ah... our script supervisor was getting a new one,” he says looking around the room. “The rest is stuff from Jason’s storage or Home Goods.”

He looks nervous.
Monica looks away and sees their old TV and the rest of their DVDs stacked on a shelf in alphabetical order.
This feels weird. Like we’re strangers. I hate this!

“The papers are here.” Alex rushes to the coffee table where there’s a pen waiting. “Just sign here and then here and I’ll take this to the Madison tomorrow. She says it’ll sell really quick after the holidays.”

Monica sits slowly on the couch and starts to look at the paper. It reminds her of the day they signed the closing papers to buy it.
We were so nervous and excited to own a home. He held my hand so tightly the whole time and was all sweaty
. She swallows hard.
Don’t you dare cry! Just sign your fucking name and get out!
Monica takes the pen and tries to steady her hand. Her signature ends up looking foreign to any knowing eye, but she gets it done.
He could have forged this better.

She looks at him and then Lacey who presses her head on Monica’s knee begging to be petted. “So you’ve been good? You like this place?” she asks, keeping her eyes on their dog.

Alex looks confused.
Small talk? Seriously? No I don’t fucking like this place! I liked my house. My fucking couch. My yard...
He stands up.

“Yeah. Just working... playing racket ball, doing therapy.” He moves around the coffee table. “You can come see her whenever you want you know.” His voice cracks and trails off.

Monica takes a deep breath.
What have I done? Our little family. Fuck. Stop tears. No!!

“Or maybe you can just take her to the park on the weekends, maybe have her a night or something,” he says, rambling through building emotion. “I’d rather you not hang here,” he blurts. “In fact, I think you should go.”

When Monica can finally pull her eyes up they spill over. She nods, biting her lip, and moves towards the door quickly.

“I just...I’m sorry... have a good holiday,” Alex says, keeping his eyes low moving towards the door. “We’ll talk after the New Year -k?” His forces another grin as a tear drops off his cheek.

“Okay.” Monica kisses Lacey on the head and then pauses at the door in front of Alex.
I want a hug. No. I won’t let go. He’ll push me away... I can’t take that.

“Merry Christmas Monica.” Alex breaks into a sob, and quickly opens the door. His hands gesture for her to leave as his mouth can no longer function.

Monica moves into the outdoor hallway struggling for air as panic starts to consume her. Before she turns around Alex closes the door and she’s stuck there, inches from the slab between them, but worlds apart. The peephole makes her feel more vulnerable, so she walks away. At the top of the stairs she digs for her keys, gripping the railing for a little support.

Robin. Would she answer? I need her. Fuck!
Her purse starts to ring.
Oh please let it be her...
She pulls out her cell but sees Quinn’s number.
Fuck. How does he...? Get it together.
She takes a breath and clears her throat. “Hey,” she says trying to sound normal.

“You okay?” he asks.

“You know I’m not. That’s why you called isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he says. “I don’t want you driving upset.”

Monica gets in her car and digs out the tissues in her glove box. “Hang on,” she says, putting the phone on mute while she blows her nose and wipes her eyes.
He called back really quickly.
“What if I was still in there? What would you have said?”

“I don’t know. I don’t plan what I’m going to say to you... I just go with what I feel. You know that.”

“I know.”

“I know this is really hard, and I just wanted to remind you how strong you really are,” he says.

“Robin said that the other day too. This just seems to never end.”

“You know how a year to a person is like seven years to a dog?”

Monica breaks into laughter.
Mr. Perfect has quote jokes.
She looks around the San Fernando Valley street in the warm December evening
. Why am I still here?
“I’m in,” she says.

“What do you mean? The trip? Christmas?” His voice happier with each question.

“Yeah. I don’t want to over think it or analyze it... I just know I’m never as happy when I’m not with you.”

Quinn’s body floats with joy. “I feel the same way. I can’t wait! It’s gonna to be a great adventure.”

“I need adventure. Well, I need to escape.”

He fills her in on the plans and the back-story on how he got an invite to be on a float in the Rose Bowl parade. “The craziest things seem to happen to you.” She pulls into the parking garage warning, “It’s gonna cut off in a second babe. I’ll call when I get upstairs.”

“Okay.”

The phone cut off just as expected, and she slides into the space. She gathers her tissues and other trash, and drops it on the way to the elevator.
This is going to be a great holiday. Something new. Exciting. Like running away with the circus for a minute.
The elevator doors close and gravity takes her stomach.