Slowly I raise my head and look her in the eye. “It’s not a job to do. It’s a life to live.”
She merely shrugs. “Not right now it isn’t. You have a contractual obligation so spare me the self-righteous talk.” Cate Camp primly returns her e-cig to her vagina purse and gives me a rubbery smile. “And I’ll have you know that we have enough footage to show there was something going on between the two of you. Looks like it was shaping up into a hell of a story considering your past together. But this leaves me with a problem. A story is nothing to an audience without an ending.”
“Oh. Would you like an ending?”
She practically leaps across the room. “Yes, I would like an ending!”
“Okay. It’s not very exciting though. We argued about whose turn it was to feed the chickens and he, Oz that is, said he was tired of feeding chickens and he was going to return to life as a reclusive mountaineer.”
Cate Camp is angry. I can tell because the bulbous collagen flaps on her face are quivering. “That is not what happened.”
Is it sick that I find her distress amusing? I bat my eyelashes innocently. “Really? Funny, that’s how I remember it. I can go in the Blue Room and discuss it in detail for the sake of posterity.”
A sound erupts from her throat. It sounds like a snarl. “Gary will have something to say about this. You can be sure of it. And if you think you’re saving face here you’re wrong. We are obliged to edit the content however we please.”
I close the book, feeling oddly detached. Perhaps I’ve sobbed out all my emotions already. I press my thumbs against my temples to relieve the building pressure. “Just go away, Cate. If you want a different ending then make one up. Oz is gone. He’s not coming back. You’ll have to live with it.”
As will I.
She hisses like a reptile and stalks to the door. Before she gets there she tosses off a few words that she probably thinks are insulting. “Go hose yourself off. You look fucking homeless.”
The door slams. I close my eyes and concentrate on pressure points to alleviate the looming migraine. I should go to my room and dig out some of my essential oils. When I open my eyes again my nephew is standing in the hallway with a drooping diaper and a stuffed monkey.
“Hey, sweetheart.” I smile and open my arms. The best thing to come out of these last few weeks has been the opportunity to spend time with him.
Alden gives me a crooked grin and scampers into my arms. I gather up his warm little body and ask him if he’s hungry. He nods eagerly and twists my hair around his fingers.
By the time I get the kid changed and settled down with a bowl of oatmeal, I glance at the clock and realize it’s nearly time for the crew to show up for the day. Spencer is the only one who sleeps less than I do. He was out and about before the sun even waved hello this morning. The crew knows by now that bothering Monty before noon is not a good idea. They are likely to merely lurk around the house for a while, filming Ava and Brigitte drinking coffee and arguing about petty everyday things.
My sisters have been cutting a wide path around me and for that I’m grateful. These days I sometimes feel like I’m barely hanging on. That shouldn’t be. I’ve lived without Oscar for a long time and of course I can live without him again.
But something happened to me during those brief, burning moments in the desert a few nights ago. I let myself go, not caring how far we were taking it, not listening to the pitiful begging that came out of my own mouth.
Oscar had me figured out all right. He knew I was trying to scrub him out for good. Out of my mind, out of my heart. I wanted him to take it all out on me; the hostility, the bitterness, everything he must have been harboring for the past five years. I wanted him to make me forget the heartbreak of losing him. I warned him he needed to make it hurt.
And he did. My god, he did. Far more agonizing than any physical pain is the agony of the heart.
“Morning.” Ava pads into the kitchen, all sleepy-eyed and beautiful with her hair flowing over her shoulders and a simple blue dress hugging her curves. Alden lights up and runs to her. She settles him on her hip and pats his back. “What are you doing up so early, baby?”
“He’s been keeping his old aunt company.”
Ava scrutinizes me. I know she’s worried. She saw me at my worst once, five years ago. She saw me cry so hard I couldn’t breathe. She doesn’t want to see me like that again. “So what’s going on today, Ren?”
“I don’t know. I think I’ll do some laundry. That would probably make a captivating episode. Oh, and Cate Camp stopped by. She says Gary might show up.”
“Gary Vogel?”
“I think he’s the only Gary left in this century.”
She gives a short laugh and swings Alden down to the floor. “Did she say what he wanted?”
“I think he wants to yell at me for not inviting the cameras to observe my wild sexual exploits.”
Ava’s eyebrows shoot skyward. I hadn’t said it out loud yet. Of course anyone with half a brain would have figured it out the night he disappeared and I wandered home looking fairly used and disheveled. But I hadn’t admitted it. I guess it’s time to admit it.
“I wish…” I whisper but I can’t seem to finish the sentence. There’s that good old thick knot in my chest again. It has Oscar’s name on it. I was an idiot to think I could just fuck it away.
My elbows are up on the table now and my head is down, my fingers laced behind my neck. Those two words keep bouncing around the room.
I wish.
I wish.
I wish.
I’m drowning in wishes. Things I wish I hadn’t said. Things I wish I hadn’t done. Things I wish I had said. Courage I wish I could have found. Years I wish I hadn’t lost.
Soft arms surround me. My sister presses her head against mine.
“I know,” she whispers back.
I stay inside that comfortable hug for a full minute, holding on to my little sister and trying not to leak snot on her shoulder. When that’s over I pat Alden’s head and start down the hall, figuring I ought to make an effort to look slightly better than ‘fucking homeless’.
But before I get to the shower I take a detour. I’ve been avoiding the Blue Room since my first week here, spending less than five minutes on my required self-interviews. Typically I gloss over anything that might be important and instead summarize events like the cleaning of the chicken coop or the loading of the dishwasher. Whenever Cate Camp pulls me aside for an entreaty to ‘dig a little deeper’ I just pretend like I don’t hear her.
Since almost everything I’ve been doing since I got here just isn’t working I make up my mind to try something else. Determinately I wind my long hair into a knot and push a few stray strands behind my ears. I’m wearing a ratty old gym ensemble, I slept very little last night, and I haven’t even washed my face. In other words, I’m not classic camera material. But that will have to be okay.
I flip the camera on and settle into the papasan chair. This time, when I look straight at the lens it isn’t intimidating. There’s nothing to be afraid of here.
This is me. The real me.
I clear my throat.
“Hello. I haven’t really let you meet me yet. I’m Loren Elizabeth Savage. Yes, of the famed movie star Savages. You probably know about my family. And you may have heard a few things about the rest of us. Some of them might even be true. But there’s still so much you don’t know. No matter how many cameras there are in the world there will always be a lot you can’t see. I was in love once. Really and truly in love. Like what you see in the movies. Like what you read about in stories. It was as incredible as it was heartbreaking. I hope you’ll stick around and listen for a little while. Because I really want to tell you about it…”