Lucid (30 page)

“Exactly.”

We walk on in silence.

“Are you jealous?” I ask.

“Of course. I liked him first.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No. I have three boyfriends at school and Rico in swim class and sort of Ben in arts and crafts. Not to mention the whole Josh Hinkle thing. And you really needed one.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I owe you one.”

I’m distracted as we walk. A bit paranoid, checking out every face that passes, each storefront, the shopkeeper sweeping his stoop, the dog raising its leg on the tulips to make sure everything is in its place and from the real world.

Emma cancels another patient to meet my emergency. When I walk in, she does this super-calm thing that seems so artificial I regret ever calling her.

So I sit on her sofa, holding the box of Kleenex, and tell her all the horrible stuff without holding back. She keeps nodding supportively, as if to reassure me that this isn’t freaking her out and that we can absolutely handle it. When I’ve talked myself dry, she asks…

“Are you ready to let Sloane go?”

“I don’t know if I can. I don’t know how to.”

“But do you want to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Talk about that.”

So I think about whether I want to finally say goodbye to Sloane.
The real answer is absolutely not. At the very least, she’s my best friend. Only she knows who I really am and everything there is to know about me. I don’t know where I’d be without her.

“I guess I’m afraid of losing her.”

“How much would you give up to keep her?”

“A lot.”

“Would you give up Andrew?”

The truth is yes, I would. Because Sloane isn’t actually my best friend. She is me. It’d be giving up myself.

“Yes.”

“Would you give up Jade?”

I stare at the floor.

“Because, Maggie, that’s where you’re heading. You’re afraid that people you love will leave you. But you’re leaving them. And you’re picking up speed.”

“How would it work, anyway? I just wouldn’t ever go to sleep or something?”

My cell phone rings. I reach for it to turn it off.

“That’s all right. If you left it on, you left it on because you needed to. Is it Andrew?”

I look at the screen. It isn’t Andrew.

Of course I can’t find a cab, so I run across the park and up Madison. I walk the last block to Sant Ambroeus so I can gather my breath. As I enter the restaurant, I see my reflection. My cheeks are flushed, my skin is glowing from my unexpected jog. I look healthy and alive and totally not crazy.

Macauley is sitting at a choice table. Wearing the most welcoming smile, he jumps to his feet and waves me over. I can’t believe this
is happening. I am going to be Robin.

He holds my shoulders, kisses both cheeks, and tells me how excited he is.

“What happened?” I ask. “Did she get sick or take another role?”

“Nope. I just came to my senses and realized that you were Robin and I would be the luckiest of men if you forgave me.”

I glance beyond his shoulder—and my heart jolts in my chest. The girls at the next table, incongruously drinking martinis, are Sloane’s best friends Kelly and Lila. They’re dressed as young Upper East Siders, but there is no mistaking who they are.

“Well. Don’t keep me in suspense.” He smiles, clearly not in suspense at all. “If you wait any longer to say yes, I’m going to have to start increasing your salary.”

“That will hardly be necessary. This is basically the happiest moment of my life, and I promise you that you’ll never regret it.”

And over his shoulder, Lila stands to make her way to the bathroom while Kelly calls the server over for a refill.

“Everything all right?” Macauley asks, craning to see what has my attention.

“I thought I saw someone I know.”

“We’re going to shoot the pilot in July, when Blake wraps her feature. Gives you plenty of time to get settled in LA. Do you think your mom will come with you?”

My mind is beyond spinning. Everything about this moment feels surreal. I hang on to the edge of the table. “She couldn’t; her work is here.”

“No problem, you’ll just go through the emancipation process. It’s simple and quick.”

Easier, I guess, than emancipating myself from Sloane.

“Can you do me a favor?” Macauley asks. “I’m reading an actress for Zoey, and I’d like to do the scene she does with you and Ryan, where you catch them together. And it’d be nice to see the two of you in frame. Are you free after lunch?”

As we leave the restaurant, I glance back. Lila and Kelly are still at the table. They’re sharing a pile of pasta. Kelly looks up while delicately sucking a strand of linguine and stares right at me. And winks.

In the cab down to the rehearsal hall, Macauley rolls calls. I stare out the window, grounding myself with the New York streetscape. And I realize that if this actually happens, I’ll be moving to Los Angeles. But I wonder what it would be like to move away from Andrew and Jade and Nicole and the city and everything I’ve known all my life, outside of Mystic, Connecticut. Maybe my insanity has the one silver lining that I won’t be put to the decision of separating from everything I love.

At the rehearsal hall I’m introduced to Layne Seebran. I’ve seen her work on a soap and remember she was good despite the ridiculous story line. I think she played a girl who moves to town with the horrible secret that she received a brain transplant from a famous villainous character who died a mysterious death. No one ever dies for long in soap opera land. She is pretty and well trained. Without the training, she’d be a weather girl or a beauty contestant.

She’s nervous, eagerly trying to make friends with me and with Ryan as if we might actually be able to help her land the role. I’m sympathetic because I’ve been there more times than I’d like to remember.

Ryan greets me with a gropey hug and a kiss on the mouth. He talks about how happy he is that we’ll be moving to LA, almost as if we are moving there together. He tells me all about how well he knows the city and that he’ll show me the ropes.

During wardrobe and makeup, Layne pops a Xanax. She confides that she self-medicates a lot. She seems very insecure about her look for this particular character, over-instructing the makeup artist as to how best to line her eyes. I wonder what meds they’ll be dishing out in those tiny Dixie cups after my breakdown. Which leads to the major question of whether Nicole will be able to keep me at home or whether I’ll be institutionalized. That question, as if those were the only two possible alternative futures, just slips into my head like the most natural thing in the world. This is going to happen to me, is already happening to me.

The scene requires Layne to show up at Ryan’s apartment and boldly seduce him, almost immediately following her entrance. I will be Ryan’s girlfriend at this point and will interrupt them. Not much for me to do except slap the shit out of Layne, spit on Ryan, and slam the door. This might be the last time I ever get to act in a scene. Foolishly that makes me feel like crying.

Macauley stays really close to me. Tells me how fantastic I look and generally seems intent on bonding with me, trying to ingratiate himself in case I secretly hate him for treating me like a drug addict.

As the scene begins, Macauley watches the action in the monitor, and I space out a little since my entrance won’t come for a while. At one point, he beckons to me to look in the monitor, and when I do…

I see James with his back against the wall, Caroline’s body pressed up against his. She is kissing his neck, whispering in his ear. Then he reaches down and hikes her up, her legs circling around him. He carries her to the bed and excitedly starts to undress her.

I feel really detached. I wonder who I’ll see if I look up from the monitor. I take a deep breath, then look up. It’s still James and Caroline, seemingly writhing together in a passion they can’t control. I know this isn’t really happening in Sloane’s world, though I feel a little sorry for her that she must be seeing it in her dream. Then all of a sudden, I start to feel something different. I’m angry. I’m hurt. James is betraying me, he lied, he broke his promise, and worst of all, he doesn’t really love me. But I still love him.

It’s my cue. I enter the scene, watch James and Caroline, and all the sadness and bitterness and loss just wells up within me and I sink to my knees and I start to sob. The crying takes me over, and I’m oblivious to the fact that the lovers have now become Ryan and Layne, that Macauley called cut and is now crouching in front of me, taking hold of my shoulders.

“Wow,” he says softly, “what an interesting choice. Let’s hang on to that and do another one on script, huh? Will that be okay?”

I dry my eyes, somehow smile as if I was acting, and say, “Sure.” I can tell he isn’t crazy about me going all Meryl Streep on him with my own improv take.

“Sorry about that; it just happened in the moment.” Lame. He is nodding and smiling like, let’s just not let that moment reoccur.

He has us pick up the scene with the couple on the bed. They are still Ryan and Layne. When my entrance comes, I whirl the girl around as I’m supposed to and stage-slap her appropriately, but
when I turn to Ryan, I’m overwhelmed with anger. Instead of following script, I just lose it. I hit him with a closed fist and, ignoring his shock, just start swinging at him and hitting him with everything I have.

The next thing I know, Macauley is pulling me off Ryan. The look in everyone’s eyes is completely appropriate. They just saw a crazy person doing something crazy. There is no way to cover this, no way to explain. All I can do is apologize to Ryan.

Macauley calls it a day and asks me to wait in the little room he’s using as an office. I apologize to everyone again and head to my execution. I sit on a folding chair waiting to be fired so that I can leave here and go screw up the rest of my life one piece at a time.

Macauley comes in and shuts the door. He asks what I’m on. I tell him it isn’t drugs.

“It was an emotional episode. I’m sorry. I can’t explain. But I swear from my heart, it will never happen again,” I promise him.

Macauley studies me. Deciding what to say. I just sit there vulnerable in front of him and let him judge for himself.

“I’ll sleep on it, Maggie,” he finally says. “I’m sorry for whatever trouble you’re going through. But I can’t risk the project by moving forward with you in this state. Let’s talk tomorrow and see how we’re both feeling.”

In the cab, I desperately try to understand what I’ve done. Where was that rage coming from? Is it just the anger I feel in losing my mind, my life, my family, my love, my future? Or is it something even scarier? Was I Sloane in that moment, hitting my boyfriend who I thought had betrayed me, humiliated me, and robbed me of my dream of forever belonging to him?

I go home and hide on the roof of our building, watching the sun’s path, watching it sink below the horizon, watching twilight become dusk become dark. The lights dance on the river and a soft breeze blows through the trees along our street. I feel safer here because I can’t encounter anyone who could become someone from the other world.

I was wrong.

It’s probably a little past midnight when he comes and silently sits down next to me. I don’t recognize him, but I’m not afraid; his obvious intent is to be kind and reassure me.

“How are you doing?”

His name is Bill. He’s Sloane’s friend who died in a car crash on our birthday. I’ve seen him before, of course, in the dream. But I turn and look at his face as if for the first time. He smiles this beautiful sideways smile.

“I know it’s hard for you to believe right now. But it’s going to be all right.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re dead.”

He laughs. “There’s worse things.”

So we sit and look at each other for the longest time. And I finally feel comfortable and calm and peaceful. He points up at the sky above my head. The stars. There are never stars in Manhattan, but we can see them all.

“Which ones are mine?” he asks.

“We can’t see them from here,” I say, mesmerized by the vision of the twinkling heavens above this twinkling city.

Finally, I ask, “How is this all going to end?”

“The way it should.”

I
’ve never dreamt of Bill. As far back as I can remember, I have never dreamt of anyone from the real world, have never put anyone like that into Maggie’s world, until these last two days.

Seeing Bill’s face and hearing his voice breaks my heart. I miss him so much. It almost seems as if I caught his scent through Maggie. It’s just like him to be so reassuring and calm and to want us to not be afraid. Bill was never afraid of the future or anything.

God, I miss him. Gordy has been my friend since we were little, but no one has ever meant to me anything close to what Bill did. I think after he died, I sort of leaned extra hard on Gordy, and maybe that’s where I started to give him the wrong impression.

There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about Bill and little moments together. Even now, even with loving James, I still think of Bill all the time. I wonder if I could ever share that much of myself again, with James or anyone.

Max knocks our secret knock on my bedroom door. I tap the reply on the wall, letting him know it’s safe to come in. As soon as I see his face, I’m overwhelmed with guilt. He pulled out my mom’s old telescope last night and set it up in the backyard. And I avoided him because I didn’t want to look for Bill in the stars before my date with James.

He’s carrying a piece of tracing paper that he’s drawn on with markers. It looks as if he’s made his own star chart. He sits down on my floor and stares at it. I sit down next to him and tell him I’m sorry. He shrugs.

“I couldn’t find him anyway. I don’t think Mom’s telescope works anymore.”

I pick up his star chart and lie down on my back, holding it up against my constellations, overlapping some of the points with the stickers on my ceiling. He lies down next to me, his head touching mine.

“You were just looking at the wrong sky,” I tell him. I don’t want Max to hurt or miss Bill as much as I do.