Elizabeth the First Wife (29 page)

Come on, please. It would be so easy to go with him. No one was looking, no one would know. But as much as I wanted him in that moment, I knew it was, what? Risky? Reckless? Or maybe just too nostalgic. Yes, that was it. If this summer had taught me anything, it was that moving forward was far more exciting than looking back. But FX was here and his body was so warm. I found my own hands reaching behind to touch his forearms, to feel his skin. I closed my eyes to get a handle on my emotions.

“Come on. For old times' sake.”

Old times' sake?
I opened my eyes. That was definitely not the
reason I was searching for. I stepped back and held his hands out in front. “I think you're, like, ten years too late for that.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, I just meant that after tonight…I feel like my old self again.”

“And I'm part of your old self?” I said, a touch defensively.

“In the best way.” FX's voice was still hopeful that he could salvage the moment. “The best part. The part that's just Francis. You know that's why I had to have you come with me this summer. You brought that part back to me.”

“Thanks,” I sighed, but I knew the moment had passed. Of course, he was magnetic, but he wasn't what I needed. I dropped one of his hands and took another step back, creating even more space between us. “FX, it's not a good idea for us to relive the past. Even the best parts.”

He moved closer. Whether it was real desire or just the emotion of the evening, he wasn't giving up. “You sure? I learned a lot of new things in the last ten years.” He raised his eyebrows playfully, indicating that it was the emotion of the evening, not, in fact, some unearthed bond between us.

“Me, too,” I said, letting go of his hand. “And one of the things I learned is that you're hard to get over. But I did.”

FX leaned in. “Totally over me? You don't have
one night
of curiosity to get out of your system?”

Standing there next to my famous and handsome ex-husband, who was pretty much begging me to sleep with him, the image of a hot, sweaty Rafa mulching my garden flashed through my mind. Oh, I had one night of curiosity to get out of my system, but it wasn't with FX. “Nope, I'm good. I think we're better suited as friends. Wouldn't you say?”

“There's that ‘better suited' again.”

“But I think Sabrina over there might enjoy the benefits of your experience.”

FX Fahey got the message. He shook his head. “You're the best, Lizzie. Let's dance.”

Wandering back to Sage Cottage with Maddie well after midnight, I checked my phone. There was a text message from Rafa. It said: Missed you tonight.

I didn't want to cheapen it by texting back.

The panicked phones calls started about twenty-four hours later. Hardly enough time for those of us in Ashland to come down off the standing-ovation high, the afterglow of the party, and the gushing review on the
New York Times
website. We'd barely recovered from the morning rehash at Noble Coffee and #midsummer trending on Twitter. The first message came in at 5:43 in the afternoon, while I was at Vitality Yoga, attempting to prolong my vigor with mindful breath and deep-core awareness, or at least that's what the brochure promised. I might have stayed for the restorative class afterward if I'd known there'd be ten frantic messages to listen to on my short walk home. Message number one was a simple “call me” from Bumble. But it was clear by message number three, a classic clip-toned hanging tease from my mother, that something was horribly wrong and I was to blame. “Elizabeth, I'm sure you've heard by now about the situation. It's been decided and I'll be the first one there, boots
on the ground, to quell the insurgence. Expect me and the Girls in thirty-six hours.”

My mother using military jargon was never a good sign.

I didn't even bother listening to the next seven messages. I called Bumble, who answered on the first ring, a rare occurrence. She didn't bother with pleasantries. “Where have you been?”

“Yoga. What's happening? Is everyone okay?”

“Gee, I don't know Elizabeth. By ‘okay,' do you mean ‘Will Ted survive if his gubernatorial campaign goes down the drain before it's even started?' Is that what you mean by okay?” Her tone was Full Bumble: the sarcastic rhetorical question followed by a dramatic silence. I was in trouble.

“Bumble, what are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about the X-rated romp in the woods that you've let my stepdaughter participate in. Thanks for letting us know that Maddie was interning for what's essentially an Elizabethan adult film. But with better dialogue.”

My head was spinning, “Who called it that? There's a touch of nudity. And Maddie has not been even close to naked people at any point during the production. She's making coffee and getting bottled water, not romping onstage.” I was clearly behind in the News According to Bumble. “I don't understand. What's the problem?”

“The problem is that pictures of FX and Maddie are all over the Internet. There she is, the congressman's young daughter, canoodling with FX Fahey, star of the most titillating, and I do mean
titillating
, production of
Midsummer
ever. And those asshats Ron and Ben have connected the dots!”

“First off, there was no canoodling. Really. I was there. FX treats her like his niece. He put his arm around her in paternal affection at the cast party, so let's not mischaracterize what happened.” I tried to slow down the speeding bullet that was Bumble.

“Oh! Am I supposed to be thankful for that? Should I send
a fruit basket?” The Sarcastic Rhetorical hits just kept coming. Bumble went on to explain how the conservative talk-show hosts, who already have Ted on their Do Not Support list because of his stance on “lenient” gun control and gay marriage, devoted two hours of their show to taking him down as a horrible parent for letting Maddie participate in “a public pornographic display of nudity and inappropriate behavior.” Congressman Ted, in their eyes, was tantamount to a pimp. And imagine what he would do to the education system in California if he were governor. Birth control for all! Sex ed in kindergarten! Callers were whipped into such a frenzy that they were calling for his resignation from Congress.

It was shocking and awful and I thought I was going to throw up. I picked up my pace to get back to Sage Cottage as quickly as I could. “Oh my god, poor Maddie. Have you spoken to her? Bumble, I had no idea anything like this could happen.”

Bumble ceased hyperventilating and took a moment to compose herself. I imagined it involved a swig of diet soda. “Fortunately, the current talking point is that Ted is a terrible parent, not that Maddie is the next Lindsay Lohan. But honestly, why didn't you tell us about the production, Elizabeth?”

I hated to remind her that the bulk of our communication over the last month had been about the status of her Sexapalooza. What was a little nudity onstage compared to daily updates about her basal body temperatures and cervical fluid? Plus, I assumed Maddie was filling them in on the details. It hadn't registered with me how the outside world might construe Maddie's participation. Was that my job? “It's so innocent onstage. The whole thing is played for laughs. A quick butt shot, fumbling with the blankets to cover some, um, breasts. I mean, nice ones, but quick, very quick. And the lighting is totally discreet.” The truth was that most of the really sexy scenes involve characters that are fully clothed.

“Super. Radio-talk-show hosts are very sensitive to discreet
lighting. I'm sure once Ron and Ben are alerted to the nuanced use of theatrical gels, or whatever you call the lights, they'll back off their attacks.”

With every remark, I felt worse and worse for Maddie, even for me. “We're kind of in our own world here in Ashland. It's not like Pasadena. We're removed from, you know, the media and you all.”

“Well, you're not now.”

“Is Ted furious?” Poor Ted. He'd been so generous and kind to me, a wonderful brother-in-law. I never would have done anything to knowingly sink his campaign, or more importantly, his personal reputation. I hoped he knew that.

“I don't know who's more furious: Ted or Rafa.”

Oh, damn. Rafa.

“Are you okay?”

Maddie was more than okay; she was defiant. “I am not going home. I turn eighteen next month. They can't make me go home.”

Well, technically “they” could, but I didn't want to muddy the argument by pointing out the obvious—that she wasn't a legal adult just yet. But I was hugely relieved that she wasn't a puddle of tears on the couch. She was striding around the tiny living room, gesticulating for dramatic effect. Puck was equally worked up on her behalf. I tried to calm them both down, feigning the sort of wisdom that comes with being an adult and in charge, even though I felt about fifteen and out of control. “I'll back you up on that, but, unfortunately, this may be out of my jurisdiction.” Really, I had no idea what might happen next.

I filled her in on the plan, or more correctly, Bumble's plan. (It's incredible what Bumble could pull together over the course of a ninety-minute yoga class.) Team Ted assumed that the brouhaha would subside in a day or two at most. The Ron and Ben Show was
local to L.A., and, although FX Fahey was a national media figure, Ted Seymour wasn't yet, so the chances of the national media picking up the story were small. In the meantime, Bumble and Ted would issue a statement supporting Maddie and the concept of exploring the arts, a new position for Ted, thank you very much. Prior to this afternoon, he'd been cool on public funding of the arts and art instruction in classrooms.

The carefully crafted response would also clarify Maddie's role, a lowly intern to her aunt, who happened to be FX Fahey's ex-wife, far away from the action onstage. Then, as icing on the approval cake, Anne Lancaster, a well-respected step-grandmother and education advocate, would arrive in Ashland and act as a Seymour surrogate, attending the play and issuing a statement that declared the play to be a perfectly suitable endeavor for Maddie. Bumble's carefully chosen media outlets were limited to a Ted-friendly non-political talk-radio host and the socially connected and friendly
Look Out Pasadena!
My mother was to issue a discreet statement, do the one radio interview, and pose for a multigenerational photo with Maddie and me backstage after the show. According to Bumble, It Was All Good.

Maddie looked worried. “I hope Dylan doesn't think something's actually going on between me and FX.”