A Not-So-Simple Life (16 page)

And she actually laughed, which just made me downright furious.

“Sorry I even told you,” I said in my snippiest voice, realizing how stupid I’d been to tell her.

“No no…,” she said quickly. “You don’t get it, Maya. I wasn’t laughing at you and Jason. I was just laughing at how ironic that is. Do you have any idea how old I was when your dad and I first started dating? Or for that matter, how old he was?”

“No…”

“I was a ripe old seventeen, and your father was twenty-seven, or so he said. Later on I found out he was two years older than that.”

“No way.”

She laughed even louder now, and her voice sounded
genuinely happy…or almost. “Yes. I can’t believe he’s acting like such an old fuddy-duddy.”

“Well, I am his daughter, and he’s been trying to be a good dad.” Suddenly I felt bad for how I’d been treating him and for reporting on him. I mean, in all fairness his track record outshines Shannon’s. And there I had been bad-mouthing him. What kind of daughter am I?

That was probably one of the main reasons I softened up when he broke the silence today. Guilt—it’s like a magic potion.

“Anyway,” Dad continued slowly, like he was weighing each word and not totally sure of himself, “Shannon seems to be committed to her sobriety, Maya.”

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. I mean, yes, she seems to be committed, and I certainly wish her the best and hope that it’s the real thing, but if history is supposed to be the best indicator of the future…well, just imagine.

“I know…I know…,” he said. “Shannon could be falling off the wagon right now, but I’d like to think she’s not. Wouldn’t you?”

“Duh.” Okay, that wasn’t exactly a mature response, but as I mentioned, I have not been feeling particularly grownup recently.

“Anyway…since we’re nearby,”—we were in Las Vegas once again—“well, I thought maybe you’d want to pay your mom a little visit. Just to see how she’s doing.”

“Meaning that you’re dumping me with her?”

“No, I’m not dumping you, sweetheart. But for your sake, I simply want to come up with a better plan for you than living on the road with a bunch of funky old guys.”

“Sorry to complicate your life.”

He put his hand on my cheek. “That’s not the case, and you know it, Maya. But somebody’s got to make the money to pay the bills.”

I shrugged. “Money can be highly overrated.”

“I remember a time not so long ago when you were flipping-out mad at Shannon for stealing your money.”

I brightened now. “And if you’d like to replace that money, maybe I could continue to file for emancipation like I’d planned to do.”

He frowned. “I just can’t see how that’s in your best interest, Maya.”

“What is in my best interest?”

“An education, for one thing. Thomas was looking into boarding schools, and I thought—”

“Boarding schools?” I stared indignantly at him. “Are you serious?”

“He says there are some good ones back east.”

“I am not going to be locked up in a stupid boarding school.”

He sighed. “Yes…it’s hard to imagine you restricted like that. You’ve had a lot of freedom.”

“Fine! I’ll go back to Shannon.”

“You will?”

“And I’ll go back to modeling. And I’ll put my money in an account with only my name on it. And I swear to you I will be emancipated by summer.”

He didn’t seem too pleased to hear this but simply nodded. “Then it’s settled.”

I still felt angry at him. And betrayed. “Yes. It’s settled.”

And so it is that I feel like a yo-yo or a Ping-Pong ball or maybe just a bad penny… I wonder how many times I’ll have to bounce back and forth between them before I’m free. But my flight has been booked, and I’ll be back with Shannon by tomorrow evening. Whoopee.

“This is Day Seventy-three,” Shannon announced as she held up her coffee mug in a mock toast. It was her usual morning ritual. And I must admit it was getting a wee bit old after almost three weeks. Still, I smiled and reminded myself that there were worse things. Far worse.

“Any big shoots today?” she asked.

“Actually, I do have one callback today, not that it means much.” It hadn’t been easy getting back into the swing of things. While Ms. Montgomery seemed glad to have me back, I had earned a bit of a reputation thanks to my quick departure in December.

“No one wants to hire a flaky model,” Campbell had told me shortly after I got back. “No matter how pretty she is.”

I considered explaining myself but couldn’t think of anything believable to say. So I didn’t. Still, it’s been slow going with only one real shoot, and it didn’t pay much. But hopefully that was about to turn around. On the bright side, Shannon had been behaving herself. Although I could tell she was bored.

“I need something to do,” she had complained last night.

“Want to help with my garden?” I suggested. I think this was rather generous on my part since I’m very territorial when it comes to my garden. But it had been so neglected during my absence that I knew it was going to take a lot of work to get it back. Maybe a little weeding would do Shannon some good.

But she simply sat at the table studying her nails. “I don’t think so…I just got a manicure on Monday.”

“What about acting?” I asked. Okay, I know this is almost an invitation for trouble since Shannon can get upset when she remembers what she gave up (yeah, right) for me and my dad.

“No one wants an old lady.”

“There are lots of parts for older women,” I said. Then to take the sting out, I reminded her of all the amazing actresses who are older than she is. “Goldie Hawn, Meryl Streep, Jane
Seymour, Susan Sarandon, Diane Keaton…just to name a few.”

She brightened now. “Yes…maybe you’re right, Maya. Maybe it’s time to accept that I’m getting older. And maybe it’s time to speak to my agent.”

“You have an agent?”

She frowned. “Well, my old agent. He’s still around.”

As it turns out, this hasn’t been a great week for either of us. Shannon’s agent politely but bluntly told her he wasn’t interested. And my callback opportunity, the people I’d been hoping would offer a contract, changed their minds. “They decided that they need a blonde,” the photographer’s assistant informed me. Never mind that I’d spent two hours getting ready, paid for a taxi, and sat and waited for an hour to hear their good news.

But that’s not the worst part of my life. The scariest development is that I’m afraid Shannon has fallen off the wagon again. No, I don’t think she’s doing drugs, not yet anyway. But after her “crushing” disappointment about her acting career, she met an old friend “for drinks.” It figured that she would call someone like Lynnette, since she’s also an out-of-work actor with addiction problems of her own. Although the last I heard, Lynnette had been clean for quite some time. It’s
possible I’m overreacting. Still, something about it doesn’t smell right.

“But you’re in rehab,” I reminded Shannon after I smelled booze on her breath. “And you’ve been doing so well. Why risk everything now?”

“First of all, this is not drugs, Maya. It was a couple of beers, a little pick-me-up with an old friend. I didn’t even have the hard stuff. So just cut me some slack, and chill, girlfriend.”

I hate when she calls me “girlfriend.”

And this afternoon when I got back from another exhausting day of dropping off tear sheets and trying to look pretty, dependable, and not desperate, Shannon was gone. It was only around five o’clock, so I told myself that she might be out shopping. Since she’s been paying her bills (actually just making minimum payments on her charge cards), she has a little bit of credit available. So I was hoping that was the case. But now it’s close to midnight, and she still isn’t home…not a good sign.

Mostly I just hope she’s not out there doing something really, really stupid. If she’s using again, I will be so out of here. I don’t even care where I go. I just refuse to live like that again.

I
’m not sure whether to be relieved or worried today. I don’t even know where to begin with this latest development in the life of Maya Stark, but I’m starting to wonder if my journal couldn’t be a good documentary about what happens to kids who are “raised” by psychotic parents. Anne Frank I am not. But I do have a story that deserves to be heard. And since my modeling career is taking some time to jump-start, maybe I should consider turning my journal into a screenplay. I wonder where I could find a fifty-something Britney Spears kind of actor. Or perhaps Shannon could play herself. She’s such a natural at it.

Okay, all kidding aside, I had to take Shannon to the emergency room about one o’clock this morning. She and Lynnette had gone out to celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day.

“We jus’ wanted to drink some green beer,” Shannon slurred at me after I found her flat on her back at the foot of the stairs. I’d been sound asleep when I’d awakened to a crash and a scream, and certain that burglars were in the house, I grabbed my cell phone and called 911.

“What is the nature of your emergency?” asked a calm man on the other end.

“I think maybe a break-in,” I whispered as I peered out the crack of my door.

“How many people are in the house?”

Just then I saw one of Shannon’s shoes—a silly pair of pink sandals with about four-inch heels. “Never mind,” I said quickly.

Of course, he wasn’t about to let me off the hook, so I explained what had happened. “It’s just my mom,” I said with disgust. “She fell down.”

“Does she need assistance?”

Just the men in white coats with a straitjacket, I wanted to tell him. “No…” I looked down at Shannon to see that her eyes were wide open and she had a goofy-looking smile. Obviously wasted. She held up her hand and gave me a little finger wave. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir,” I said calmly.

“Just so you know, an officer is already en route.”

“Why?”

“It’s just routine. He’ll make sure that everything is okay.”

“But everything is okay,” I said. The last thing I wanted was the police to find my intoxicated mom acting like an imbecile. But before I could think of a way out, I saw lights outside the front door, and then someone was knocking.

“I’m sorry,” I told the officer at the front door. “I thought someone had broken in, but it was just my mom. She
knocked a picture off the wall, and it made a big noise, and—”

“I’ll just have a quick look around and make sure you’re okay,” he said in a friendly tone. Still, as he came in the house, his hand was near his gun—like what did he think was going on here?

Shannon was sitting on the bottom step now, rubbing her right foot and frowning.

“Everything okay in here, ma’am?” He peered down at her curiously.

“I think I broke something,” she said without even blinking. Did she not think it strange that a policeman was in our house?

He stooped down to look at her foot. “It’s sure swollen, ma’am. Did you fall?”

I wanted to point out that she was falling-down drunk, but I simply put the knocked-down picture back on the wall and stared at my mom.

“I sort of tripped on the stairs. I can’t exactly remember. Maybe I hit my head.”

“Do you want me to call for medical transport?” he offered.

“No,” I said quickly. “I mean, we don’t have very good insurance coverage right now. If she needs to go to the hospital, I can take her.”

“You’re a driver?”

I nodded. “And I’ve heard how outrageously expensive an ambulance ride can be,” I said, hoping to create a smoke screen. Surely this guy wasn’t going to demand to see my driver’s license—the one I still didn’t have.

“You’re right about that.”

“My daughter will take care of me,” Shannon said. I think the realization was sinking in. Perhaps having a policeman here to witness her being wasted with only a minor daughter to handle things might not look good. “We’ll just put some ice on it.” She rubbed her foot. “Probably be fine in the morning.”

“Okay…then I’ll be on my way.” He smiled at both of us. “You girls take care now.”

But as soon as he was gone, Shannon began bawling. “Take me to the hospital.” Saying it over and over until I wanted to slap her. Instead I went and got some ice.

“You said you could wait until morning.”

“I can’t,” she wailed. “I think it’s broken. It hurts.”

And so I somehow managed to get her into the car, and I drove us to the hospital. And as it turned out, her foot was broken.

“See, I told you,” she proclaimed proudly as they helped me wheel her out to the car around seven this morning. She had a cast on, a pair of crutches, and some pain pills. I was surprised they didn’t give her a lollipop too since she was acting like a child.

Anyway, I finally got her settled into a downstairs bedroom and brought her some breakfast and coffee, which she insisted she needed but barely touched. And now she is sleeping it off.

So the good news is that she’s going to be stuck at home with a broken foot for a while. The bad news is that she called Lynnette from the hospital, and after Lynnette heard the news, she offered to come over here to help out. But I suspect that Lynnette is here to help herself out. She mentioned that her rent’s overdue and she’s been looking for a new place to stay. I’m afraid she may have picked us.

But maybe the bright side is that this will free me up to get jobs and hopefully start earning some money. Although Shannon has promised to pay me back my money, I don’t have any great hopes that this will happen soon. If I’m going to break out of this joint, it’s probably going to have to be on my own dime.