Seeing Julia (31 page)

≈ ≈

“Glove box. License. Registration. Here you go. I’m just trying to get home. I’m a little tired. I’ve been driving for some time.”

“Do you need a lift, Mrs. Hamilton?”

“Yes, could you give me a ride? Oh that would be so wonderful. I mean if it’s not too much trouble. What’s your name?”

“Grant.”

“Grant? Are you kidding? I met a policeman whose last name was Grant once before. He was there at my husband’s accident. Evan, my husband, died over five months ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Well, yes, we’ve all been very sad. And, everyone is sorry. Sometimes, that’s all we can be is sorry. Everyone is. Sorry. They’re … just so … sorry. Yes, it would be better if people didn’t die. Because if they didn’t lie or die, then, they wouldn’t have to be sorry or lie or die. That would be nice. Wouldn’t it?”

“Mrs. Hamilton, are you okay?”

“Absolutely. I’m absolutely fine. Can you call me Julia? Mrs. Hamilton, the real one, the one he loved is dead. And, it makes me sad when people call me that. Call me … Julia. And, thank you for the ride. And, they’ll just tow the car? That’s magical. Isn’t it? Thank you, Officer Grant.”

“Is there anyone I can call?”

“No. There’s no one left. We could try Bobby, but Afghanistan is a very long ways away and he can only call at certain times and this isn’t really an emergency. I’m just tired; that’s all. Thank you again, Officer Grant. You’re very kind.”

≈ ≈

Ten marks on the board. I count them again. Is that right? I’ve got to get back to the plan. Where’s the plan? I was supposed to call Kimmy again, three days ago. I should probably call her now. But I’m going to wait because I’m so tired and I should really eat something.

Julia, you need to drink the water.

“Bobby, is that you? The room is so dark. Is it morning yet? Where are the lights?”

It’s nighttime.

“Bobby, I knew you’d come. The light switch is on. But no one is here. Where are you?”

Drink something, Julia. You’ve got to eat. You’re getting sick and you have to be able to get to him. Get home.

“Home. Home is where? Yes, I want to get back to Reid. I want to. If I just wasn’t so tired, if I just wasn’t so sad.”

The stairs. It takes forever to get down them. I hold tight to the rail and almost fall. My body won’t move right. It’s been too long since I’ve eaten, too long, since I’ve drunk that party drink with that silly guy.

“Water. Still water, right from the tap. No one drinks tap water anymore. I’m wasting it. I’m watching the steam of water as it flows down the drain. Fascinating. This water.”

Lean down and taste it.

“It’s good and it’s been too long, since I had water, so now, I have this new thing for water. Right here. Right now. Water. Bobby, can you turn the water off?”

≈ ≈

Water helps. I don’t feel so loopy when I wake up. The water must have helped me.

“A little help is all I need. The ceiling is so high and so white above me. And there are the glassy walls that lead to beach.”

I’m here. Get some rest. Tell me where you are.

“Malibu. I told you. You’re right here with me.”

Where are you, Julia?

“On the living room floor. With Elizabeth’s grey carpet. It has swirls and everything. That part I like. Evan said we can’t change it. I wanted blue. But it doesn’t matter what I think or want or need. Should it be blue?”

It should be blue if you want it to.

“You know that’s what I love about you. You’d follow me anywhere; wouldn’t you? Just like now.”

I’m coming. I’ll be there soon.

“Soon. I knew you would.”

≈ ≈

Standing. Move toward the sliding glass doors. A perfect Malibu day. White sand, blue sky, and the surf. The Pacific, not the Atlantic. No letter
A
issues, here.

I pull the afghan off the sofa, wrap it around me, and go outside. To the beach. To the waves. The Pacific is calling me.

“Julia.”

“Kimmy.” I sink to the sand. “It’s soft. I don’t care that it’s in my hair. Hey, I rhyme.”

≈ ≈

“Her vitals are good. She’s dehydrated. They want to keep her overnight for observation. The IV is just to get fluids into her faster. It looks like she hasn’t eaten in days, so they’ll run one for fluids and one for nutrition.”
Dr. Hallmark Card…is that you?

“I don’t like it.”
Kimmy
?

“Baby, she’s really going to be okay. They’re not going to let you stay the night. They want her to get some rest. They’re giving her a sedative so she’ll just sleep.”

“I want to stay.”

“Then we’ll stay. I’ll go make it happen.”

“And this is why I love you.”

“Not the only reason, I hope.”

“I just love it, when you’re insecure, Bradley.”

“I just love you, Kimberley.”

≈ ≈

Sunlight. Streams of it. Windows. Sunlight. Is there any other kind? It’s bright no matter what. Slats at the window. How long since those were dusted? People don’t think about that. They should. Blue sky. A nice day. In L.A.? It doesn’t feel as cold here. That’s nice. See Bobby? Some things change.

≈ ≈

Voices in the hallway. I can’t open my eyes. I try but it’s too much work. I’m so tired.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea that she sees you right now. You might upset her more.”
Kimmy?

“I have to see her. I need to talk to her.”
Jake?

“I have to agree with Kimberley on this, Jake. It’s just not a good idea, until we know more of what set her off. Something happened that triggered this and we have to figure out what it was.”
Thank you, Dr. Hallmark Card. Perfect sense, you.

“Is she going to be okay?”
I’m fine. Just tired.

“I think she’s going to be fine. It’s just going to take some time. Kimberley and I are going to take her back to the Malibu house when she’s released which is probably going to be later today or tomorrow morning.”
I’m fine, Bobby, tell ‘em, I’m fine. Just tired.

≈ ≈

I open my eyes to L.A. sunlight. A typical hospital room greets me, although even the eccentricity that is Los Angeles sneaks into this room with a few wild colors splotches of red and yellow and black modern artwork graces the walls. I haven’t been in a hospital since … oh, the night of Evan’s funeral, which leads me to Jake in thinking of the most sensational and saddest night of my life. How can it be both? Jake. Thinking of Jake leads me to think of Savannah which makes think of Evan and her together, which makes me so sad. Five days then. How many will it be now? The sessions with Dr. Bradley Stevenson.
Brad,
now. Jesus. It’s hard to reconcile all that’s transpired. But Kimberley’s happy and it’s all I want for her, Dr. Bradley Stevenson, her true one and only.

The door swings open and there’s Kimberley looking rather festive and unnatural, again, in a pale pink jogging suit I’ve never seen donning her usual hospital drama attire just for me. I smile at her.

“Well, I see your wardrobe hasn’t changed for hospital duty,” I say.

“Welcome back,” she says. She sets down her coffee and runs over to me and won’t stop hugging me.

“Glad to be back.”

And, I am.

≈ ≈

How to lose fifteen pounds in twelve days without really trying. Suffer heartbreak. Break down, literally. Stop drinking water. Stop eating. Stop everything and make yourself sick doing it. Twelve days. We can do it for you, too.

I’m released after one day from Cedars-Sinai Medical Center having been treated for dehydration and exhaustion—a typical Hollywood ailment that doesn’t raise any unnecessary red flags with any of the medical staff here. But Dr. Bradley Stevenson is struggling with all of this. Hippocratic mumbo jumbo, my previous history, and his propensity to be responsible at all times has him on edge, as we wander around the Malibu house and languish pool side, my first day back. After a satisfying lunch, where they both make sure I finish my meal that Kimberley has bought from some gourmet market in town, we sip lemonade and contemplate the background noise of sand and surf and the things so far, not being said. Brad can’t take it anymore.

“So, Julia, I’m in the capacity of
being your friend
. I can’t treat you in the state of California, since I practice in New York,” Brad says. “And, since you’ve just been treated for dehydration and exhaustion and nothing more and I’m not your doctor anymore under the auspices of psychiatric care because I’m going to marry Kimberley; do you want to talk about it
as a friend
?”

This little bit of news that they’re getting married is only a surprise to one of us, but Kimberley hardly smiles, when he says this. Worry lines etch her beautiful face and I reach out and grab one of her hands. Then, I look over at Brad.

“You’re one of those people that will pull the Band-Aid off in one swell swoop; aren’t you?”

He looks disconcerted for a moment. “Well, yes, I guess I am.”

“And, this is what I love about you.”

Kimberley beams, literally lights up, when I say this. “So you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“I do, with both of you. Brad knows my double down secrets as much as you do, Kimmy. Let’s take a walk.”

≈ ≈

The Pacific, a constancy of rhythmic blue and white waves, plays an endless song as soothing to my soul as a lullaby to a child. We walk along the shoreline among the palatial and eclectic collection of the wealthiest and most beautiful, where the rich and famous intermingle and pretend to be ordinary. I have a sense of belonging among them, sharing in this same sentiment, in this same wish, for normalcy among the extraordinary in this twenty-seven mile stretch of sandy paradise that is Malibu. I link my arms with Brad and Kimberley’s as we journey along.

“You remember our huge fight about the beach house, about Elizabeth. He left me for a few weeks and I moved in with you. You were making the final plans for Paris. And, he came here. Then, he came back.” I look at Brad. “And we worked it out. I was eight months pregnant. He’d come back. He was different, different enough that I ignored the signs…of his infidelity.”

“Oh Julia.” Anguish crosses Kimberley’s features.

“I knew. I just didn’t want to know. I wanted everything to be perfect. And, since it wasn’t, I just ignored it. I was scared. Scared to be on my own, but I knew. He was so remorseful. He went overboard on gifts and I should have known by that alone. The thing is I could never be Elizabeth and we’d known that, but after he came back from being with someone else.” I swallow and take a deep breath.

“He was different. I think he wanted to love me. He wanted things to work out. After we had Reid there was no doubt. I’d finally done something Elizabeth had never been able to do. Given him a child. And together, we were finally looking forward instead of back. He wasn’t Bobby; I wasn’t Elizabeth, but we had Reid. Together we were building a life and going forward. I’m not excusing what he did. I’m not even remembering it differently. He was broken over Elizabeth’s death and he was coping in the only way he knew how. I was broken too, over Bobby, and I’m not perfect either.”

I look at Brad. “I know that now. Bobby wasn’t perfect, either, but he was there for me. He loved me and I never had any doubt. With Evan, he was always on a quest in search of finding
her
, finding her replacement whether he was married or not…always searching.” I look at Kimberley. “That’s what she said. And she’s right.”

“Did you know
her
? Did you know who he had an affair with?” Kimberley asks.

I stop walking, let go of them, and step toward the waves lapping the shore. Turning back, I look first at Kimberley and then at Brad. They stand there, watching me, waiting. We have walked about a mile down the beach now and I look back out at the far swells of blue surf, knowing what I’m about to say will surprise at least one of them.