Lucid (13 page)

“Eu acredito que você está na liga com o carniceiro.”

Not missing a beat, he translates, “I believe you are in league with the butcher.” Film student or not, the fact that he knows my favorite film well enough to recall that line means one thing. This is going to be a good day.

I point down at the pavement. There is his breakfast, a neatly wrapped almond croissant and a large coffee. I noted at lunch that he liked heavy cream no sugar. He just stands beside me and starts to eat, and we are silent like that for quite a while.

“Do you think if I bought you a Cracker Jack ring, they would engrave it for us?” This happens in the film and is extremely romantic.

“No. See, that was a movie. This is Tiffany’s. That actor doesn’t really work here, or sadly anywhere anymore.” I turn and look at him. “Thank you for knowing that film and liking it.”

“My pleasure.”

“I’m taking you on a tour of New York today. All visits will be to film locations, or reasonable reproductions thereof.”

“Awesome. Any particular reason?”

“Yes. Shall we go?” I say.

“As soon as you’ve told me what’s your favorite scene and why.”

“You first.”

“I love the very end where they’re standing in the rain in an alley and they’ve just found her runaway cat and they’re in this three-way hug and cry, although some cynics have suggested that it was rain on Cat’s face rather than tears.”

“You left out the why.”

“Because I saw the film when I was sixteen, and that scene completely defined romance for me. One day, I will find a woman who will let me chase down her runaway cat and hug me in the soaking rain.”

He is so unguarded and genuine. I’m ashamed of the calculation in my silence.

“Your turn,” he urges.

“The truth is, I’m deciding which scene to choose on the basis of what I want you to know about me.”

“Perfect.”

“I like the scene where she gets the telegram that the Brazilian rich guy is dumping her, and she trashes her apartment in hysterical rage but then concludes that she’s going to use her perfectly good free ticket to fly to Rio anyway.” I watch him think. “What does that say about me?”

“It says you had your heart broken once, and it’s on your mind.”

“Actually, I’ve never had my heart broken. But watching her performance made me think,
so that’s what it’s like
. And how I’ll deal when it happens to me.”

“So. How will you deal with it?”

“I’ll run away to Rio.”

“No you won’t. You’re not the type to run away from your problems.”

“You have so much to learn about me, this could take a while.”

I put my arm through his and lead him off to be my companion through the one day each year that I can’t bear to face alone.

We pop into FAO Schwarz and I tap dance on that brilliant piano keyboard thing. Thanks to my extensive dance training, I’m able to approximate a little ditty known as “Chopsticks.” It’s not as easy as Tom Hanks makes it look in
Big
.

Standing outside the Plaza, he sings “Memories” to me from
The Way We Were
. You know, “Memories / Light the corners of my mind / Misty watercolor memories / Of the way we were.” He has a surprisingly sweet voice and sings to me as if I’m Robert Redford and this is our last chance to find true love together. We attract quite a crowd. Somewhere about thirty seconds from the end, I get scared that he is going to play to the moment and try to kiss me. Being an
actress who has kissed dozens of guys (in character, not in skankiness), I’m not sure why that should be a frightening thought. He doesn’t, and some twelve-year-old girl in the crowd says, “Kiss her,” as if it really matters to her. Sweet.

We cross Fifty-ninth into Central Park, so of course I take off my shoes to suggest another Redford film,
Barefoot in the Park
.

“They should have cast you,” he says. “Jane Fonda is such a ballbuster.”

“Did you get a look at her body in those days?”

“Hard to miss, it was so awesome. All that Jazzercise and spandex and leg warmers. But a hot bod isn’t so important.”

“Carmen has a rockin’ package.”

“She sure does. That’s not why we’re together, though. You’ve got so much to learn about me, this could take a while.”

We lie on the grass in Sheep Meadow and ignore the tourists sunbathing. I want to talk about Carmen, but he doesn’t. He’s drumming his rib cage, humming some song he’s currently obsessed with. It’s totally dorky and kind of annoying since I can’t grasp his passion for seventies easy-listening.

I mention that I’m up for the fourth lead in the
Innuendo
pilot, hoping he might have some good advice. My agent, Cindy, doesn’t know about it yet, and she is always so enthusiastic about everything anyway that we don’t have a genuine connection. Talking to Nicole would requiring me enduring Nicole’s unhelpful suggestions for wardrobe and hair makeover to help me land the role. My friends all have personal agendas relating to their own careers and jealousies.

And besides, I trust Andrew to tell me the truth. Unfortunately, he does.

“I hope you don’t get it.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll miss you.”

I haven’t stopped to think that it’s 90 percent likely the show will shoot in Los Angeles. I’d have to relocate. Nicole couldn’t come with me, and therefore Jade couldn’t either.

Sloane can’t wait to get to Columbia, escape the nest, and be on her own. I’ve been on my own. But not on my own the way I’d be in Los Angeles. I’ve never been there. I sort of picture it as a place with shallow, grasping, competitive people, at least in my profession. I feel smaller and more vulnerable than I’ve felt in a long time.

“So you better give your mom my cell, for the next time Jade needs to get picked up on a curb somewhere.” Andrew looks sorry the moment he says it. I just stare at him. “What?” he asks.

“I’m just sitting here being scared. Like some little kid who’s thinking about running away to join the circus.”

“Okay, let’s break it down, Mama. What are your chances of actually getting this role?”

I exhale. Smart place to start. “Less than zero.”

“How old are you?”

“I just turned seventeen,” I tell him.

He smiles sweetly. “It’s okay to be a little scared. Two years ago I was a little freaked out to come to New York for college, and it’s not even like you’d have the structure of school out there. But if this happens for you, you would be absolutely clinically insane to turn it down. Do whatever you have to do to give yourself the best chance at this.”

“Whatever?” I ask.

“What are you talking about? Couch-casting?”

I say nothing.

“Here’s one piece of advice that I know is true. No casting couch for you. Ever.”

We walk south, and passing through Times Square, Andrew steps in front of a taxi that hasn’t quite come to a full stop and pounds on its hood. I know exactly where he’s heading even before he does his best Ratso Rizzo with, “I’m walkin’ here! I’m walkin’ here!” Dustin Hoffman should have won the Oscar for
Midnight Cowboy
. In fact, he should’ve won for half the things he did.

At the top of the Empire State Building, where Cary Grant waited in vain for his true love in
An Affair to Remember
, we stare out over the city. He looks through those high-power binoculars. When I was small, I was obsessed with them. I imagined you could zoom anywhere in the city, into windows, into people’s lives, and watch a moment in time.

“My dad and I used to do this every year. Spend the day together visiting film locations. And since he died, I haven’t done it alone.” Without looking at him, “So, thanks.”

“I’m so sorry.” I feel him watching me.

“He was the most brilliant, intuitive, and loving person.” I turn to him. “He got off an airplane in Chicago and had a massive coronary walking through the terminal. He died before he hit the ground. It was good for him that he didn’t suffer. And that he had no fear. No regrets.”

I must look terribly sad because Andrew says, “But there was no chance to say goodbye.”

I shake my head, no. And start to cry. He puts his arms around me and I let him.

“He took me to my first movie, my first everything. And when Nicole pushed back against the idea that I could be an actress, he really ripped her. He said it wasn’t just rude and discouraging, it was ignorant. He completely believed that I could succeed.”

“I’m just thinking what would happen if my dad ever called my mom ignorant.”

“Well, what would happen?”

“She’d kick his ass.”

“He started that game of making up stories about strangers. He wrote stories for a living, and he always said the stories seemed like a way to hide ourselves while revealing others, but really we were only revealing ourselves. And so, we would look back on the stories we made up and figure out what they meant about us.”

“Now there’s two people who make up better stories than me.”

“At least.” Andrew gets me to smile, which was, of course, his evil plan ever since I cried.

“Thanks for telling me about your dad. I wish I’d met him.”

“I never talk about him. I think you’re the first person I’ve done that with except for my shrink.”

He shakes his head. “You need a shrink less than anyone I ever met.”

“Well, like I said, you have a lot to learn about me. In the interest of not being coy or unfriendly, let me just say that I started seeing her when my dad died. Now we basically just talk about my dreams.”

In little more than an hour, we stand on the deck of the Staten Island Ferry. The sun has just disappeared and the water is purple. He’s stumped. I tell him
Working Girl
. He nods, as if vaguely remembering. I try to help…

“Alec Baldwin says, ‘Tess, will you marry me?’ and Melanie Griffith replies, ‘Maybe.’ He says, ‘Ya call that an answer?’ And she says, ‘You want another answer, ask another girl.’”

“Wow. Great line. Gotta use that.”

“You have my permission. So the day shouldn’t be a total loss.”

“The day’s just begun.”

I like the conspiratorial promise of fun in his suggestion. But I am really excited to see Thomas. “Not for me, not tonight. I have an appointment.”

He looks me right in the eyes. “Break it. And I’ll break mine.”

“It’s about the series. It’s with the casting director.”

There’s a flicker across his eyes. This time, his smile is against the grain.

“Just so long as there’s no couch.”

I think about that. Being on a couch with Thomas and what he might want to do on that couch. And what I might want to do on that couch. And how all of that couch business might or might not affect my chances at
Innuendo
.

“Well.” I certainly have his attention. “The casting director is this older guy. Maybe twenty-five, even. And he wants to date me. He said so. Just put it out on the table. And he says that this has nothing to do with my chance to read for the role. And he says that he has other opportunities I’d be right for. And, of course, that also has nothing to do with whether I see him.”

“Are you attracted to him?”

“Very.” I try to see if he looks disappointed, but in the fading light his face is hard to read.

“I’m sorry to tell you that you already know what you’re asking me. If you hook up with this guy, and I don’t just mean kiss him good night and lead him along, but if you sleep with him, he’ll give you a shot at this role. So you’ll keep sleeping with him. And that doesn’t make him evil. And it doesn’t make you opportunistic. And I don’t want you to do it.”

“The bummer part is, if he’d just been a lawyer or something, I might want to date him. He hasn’t been funny yet, and that’s sort of the last hurdle. But being who he is, I don’t know if I’d wonder that I was dating him for the wrong reasons. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah. I know what you mean. But I think you should absolutely trust yourself. If this is the guy for you, don’t let his job stand in your way. In fact, don’t let anything stand in your way.”

And then he said, “Finding the right person. The person you belong to. Is the most important thing there is.”

I tell him, “Today’s my birthday. My seventeenth birthday.”

“Get out of here! Your actual birthday?”

“All day.” I’m quite the phrase maker.

“Cancel your stupid casting thing and let me take you to Katz’s for pie à la mode and a fake orgasm.”

I laugh. That’s everyone’s favorite scene from
When Harry Met Sally
. I wonder how many fake orgasms those poor waitresses have to live through every night. I wonder what it would be like to have a fake orgasm with him.

Later, staring into my closet, I realize that I have no idea where Thomas is taking me for dinner. Major problem. I text and call. Nada. Well, I could dress down the middle, but what the heck does that even mean? What’s more embarrassing? Underdressed or overdressed? The obvious answer is overdressed because underdressed indicates too cool for school, what do we care what anybody thinks. Overdressed means desperate to impress. But my spider sense tells me to dress to the nines. This guy likes me, he knows it’s my birthday, he’s not taking me to the sushi place around the corner. We start with a little black dress. How little? Maybe not so little. Tight and short makes a girl look young; that’s not what I’m going for. Tight and longer is more sophisticated, which can be its own trap because you don’t want to look like a young girl trying to look older. But I go with that dress because it fits me best. Four-inch heels, no way to hide these, just have to take the shot we’re not going bowling. I raid Nicole’s jewelry box for some chunky cool pieces. I sweep up my hair and let one strand fall over my bare shoulder.

I feel confident, which makes me think I’m not so interested in this guy. Why would that be? I thought I was interested. I told Andrew I was interested. He even encouraged me to be interested. That’s why. I do not want one attractive male telling me to go for another. What I really want is every attractive male to want me for himself. Okay, that’s simple. There’s nothing wrong. I’m just self-centered.

When he appears at my door, I resist the urge to tell him that I’m going to run and change. There’d be no point unless I ran all the way to the magic closet at
Elle
. I’m wearing my very best and it isn’t nearly good enough. He is actually in black tie. And looks as fine as any model in a Tom Ford ad. He apologizes, explaining
that after supper, we have to attend a private screening of a client’s film at Donna Karan’s co-op on Central Park West, after which we are “obligated to fall by the after party.” It turns out that the same film was having a preview downtown, which was too hoi polloi for us insiders, but all the little people would expect us to make an appearance at the party.