Farewell, Dorothy Parker (28 page)

Movie critic jobs were scarce, and there was little chance she’d find another one anytime soon, if at all. And she doubted the family-court judge would look kindly on her if she was unemployed. What could she find quickly? Were there people she knew who could set her up with a job? She would, of course, take anything if it meant improving her chances at custody. But what could she do that would give her the flexible hours she needed to spend time with her troubled niece?

She closed her eyes for a moment and remembered a conversation with her sister. It was early in Violet’s ill-fated pregnancy, and she was still blissful and dreamy. She and Andrew had decided to keep the news private for a few more weeks, but as she was shopping with Ivy in
a children’s clothing store, looking for something special for Delaney to wear for her eighth birthday, they passed the baby department and Violet couldn’t resist fingering one of the tiny outfits.

Ivy stopped cold and stared. “Do you have something to tell me?” she said.

Violet shook her head, and Ivy smiled.

“You do, you dirty liar!”

Violet laughed, and it was just the signal Ivy needed to confirm her hunch. “You’re going to be a great mom,” she said, hugging her sister. “You really are.”

At that joyous moment, she believed it. And maybe she would have been. But right now, it looked like she was failing Delaney in every possible way.

Violet continued her walk toward Buck’s office. Nothing worked out as it should have. Ivy should be alive. Violet should have a five-year-old boy named Nate getting into trouble at preschool or learning to read or begging his mom for the latest video game.

No crying, she told herself. Just get through this.

When she rounded the corner, Violet heard voices and saw that Buck was not alone in his office. Sylvia Merrill was in there with him. So was Owen Weiss, the executive vice president of their online division, and Sam Lee, the advertising director.

Dear God, it was a firing squad. Dizzy, she paused, leaning against the wall.

She took a few long, slow breaths and coached herself to be brave. Then she marched in.

“Violet!” Buck announced, and they all clapped.

Clapped?

“Brava!” said Sylvie, beaming with delight.

Violet felt like she had just short-circuited. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“We’ve gone viral!” Owen said.

“Viral?”

“Your TV appearance sparked the hottest online debate we’ve ever seen,” said Buck. “We were flooded with readers who hated the movie and wanted to support you.”

“They’re duking it out with the people who loved it,” said Owen.

“It’s brought out the worst in
everyone
!” Sylvie gushed.

“And this is a good thing?” Violet asked.

“The hits are through the roof,” said Sam. “Advertisers love this kind of controversy.”

“I…I thought they hated controversy.”

“Not when there’s this many eyeballs,” Sam said.

Buck leaned back and folded his arms. “Violet, you’re a hero.”

Chapter 33

The meeting lasted less than thirty minutes. There was a lot of backslapping, and a bit of brainstorming about how to use social media to keep the controversy going. Buck wondered whether Violet would be willing to go on television again. (She would!) And Sam Lee made predictions about increases in ad sales. Violet, feeling bold, joked that it might be a good time to ask for a raise. Buck sucked air nervously and glanced at Sylvia Merrill, who nodded almost imperceptibly, and said annual reviews would be here before you know it.

It looked very, very good.

There was talk of going out for drinks after work, but Violet took a rain check, as she had a screening that afternoon, and a girl on Long Island to pick up first.

Back in the office, she looked under the credenza, but the box was gone, which meant she couldn’t tell Dorothy Parker the good news. She hoped her friend would show up soon, because she wanted to forgive her. Maybe not completely. She had crossed the line again and again. But this time, at least, it was indeed working out for the best.

Violet considered going out to look for Dorothy Parker, but was it ridiculous to even try? She had only a couple of hours before she needed to head out to Long Island, and her friend could be anywhere.

But hadn’t she said something about longing to visit the Algonquin? Did it pay to take a walk over there?

Ridiculous, she told herself. As much as she wanted to bend Dorothy Parker’s ear, she wouldn’t go on a wild-goose chase looking for her. Besides, she had no desire to run into Barry Beeman, whom Andi was still maneuvering in a game of phone tag.

Meanwhile, she wanted to focus her attention on poor Delaney, who had been so disappointed about missing the screening. Fortunately, there was still plenty of time to take the train to Long Island, pick up the girl, and take her back to the city for the film. Delaney loved surprises, and this would be perfect.

First, though, there was someone else Violet hoped would forgive her. She stopped at Andi’s desk on her way out.

“I want to apologize,” she said.

Andi shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“It is?”

“Sure.”

Violet paused to let that wash over her. She had unleashed the worst of herself on this young woman, and yet the sun hadn’t gone dim and the moon hadn’t turned black. Despite all her fury and unjustified accusations, Andi was…okay. The very idea made Violet so giddy she almost laughed. This troublesome young lady was the last person in the world she thought she might learn from.

“It isn’t okay,” Violet said. “I made some awful accusations, and I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it. That was tame compared to the shit that gets said at my house.”

“I wish you didn’t have to deal with that.”

“Me, too.”

Violet gave Andi’s shoulder a squeeze and turned to leave. Then another thought stopped her. “You have time for a cup of coffee?”

At Starbucks, Andi saved a table while Violet went to the counter to place their orders. As the barista moved about, pouring coffee and steaming milk, Violet felt a warm sense of irony. She liked the idea that the coffee-fetching tables had turned. What better way to make amends to her protégée?

“Let me apologize one last time,” Violet said, as she handed Andi her cup. “I really lost my temper today, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“Whatever,” she said, sipping her hot drink. “Everyone’s an asshole once in a while.”

Not me, Violet thought. I always hold it in. “Well, I feel bad,” she said.

“Forget it.”

“You’re really fine about this?”

“Of course.”

As Violet stirred her coffee, which was still too hot to drink, she tried to picture the environment Andi grew up in. She imagined flaring tempers and unbridled fury—parents, children, and extended family lashing out with every vicious thought that crossed their minds. It seemed so ugly, so selfish. And indeed, Violet believed that there was something decidedly egotistical about releasing one’s anger. It said,
I’m more important than you, and I have the right to cut you down.
And yet, in families like Andi’s, people unloaded their rage and it all worked out. They apologized or they didn’t. Either way, everyone moved on.

“I guess your family’s pretty free with their feelings,” Violet said.

Andi took a big gulp. “That’s a nice way of putting it,” she said.

Violet ventured a small sip and almost burned her tongue. “There’s a lot of yelling?”

“If by
a lot
you mean
always,
then yeah.”

“How do you feel about that?”

Andi shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

Violet blew into her latte. “Doesn’t it bother you?” she asked.

“I guess.”

“You don’t seem as troubled by it as I would expect.”

Andi put down her cappuccino and wiped the froth from her mouth with the back of her hand. “That’s because you’re from one of those quiet homes where the kids say things like, ‘Father dear, may I please watch my television program now?’ and the parents say, ‘Why, certainly, my little buttercup; here is the remote control. What else may I get for you?’ ”

Violet laughed. “We weren’t quite that well mannered.”

“So your parents yelled, too?”

“Not much. But my sister and I fought when we were small.”

“The one who died?”

“Ivy,” Violet said. “My only sister.”

Andi looked down. “Tough break,” she said.

Violet nodded. “She was my best friend.”

Andi fidgeted with the paper sleeve on her coffee cup, and Violet could tell she was uncomfortable. The kid might be tough as nails about flaring tempers, but it seemed that tender emotions frightened her.

The young woman peered into her drink and shifted into joke mode. She waved her hands over the cup like a fortune teller. “The caffeine goddesses tell me you were the baby sister.”

“And how do they know?”

“It’s obvious,” Andi said. “Your sister bullied you.”

If someone else had said it, Violet might have reacted defensively. But she didn’t think Andi was being judgmental of Ivy. It was just her acknowledgment of the natural order.

“I don’t know if I’d call her a bully,” Violet said. “But she was kind of overbearing when we were young.”

“Everything you said was stupid, right? And embarrassing? Like she almost couldn’t bear the thought that anyone might hear your remarks”

“I guess you could say she really didn’t appreciate it when I opened my mouth.”

“But you don’t call that bullying?”

“Doesn’t matter. She grew out of it.”

“Still,” Andi said, “you must have been pissed for a long time.”

“Not really.”

“Seriously? You were never furious?”

“I’m not an angry person, Andi.”

The young woman chewed on her black-painted lips as she considered that. “I want to tell you a story, but you have to promise not to be judgmental, okay?”

“Of course.”

“I have a little brother named Stephan. He’s eighteen now, but once, when he was about fifteen, he snuck into my room and stole this joint I’d been saving to share with my friends over the weekend.” She peered at Violet here for a reaction, but she just shrugged. There was nothing particularly shocking about the idea of Andi getting high.

She continued. “He knew I was saving it, too, the little prick. Normally, I would have broken his neck over something like that. But he’d had a really shitty week. He lost his iPod and got kicked out of advanced math, and my father was giving him a hard time about
everything.
So I cut him some slack and let it go.”

“That was…sisterly of you,” Violet said, unsure of where Andi was going with the story.

“I guess it was. But here’s the thing. We stopped getting along after that. I mean, everything he did infuriated me. I just had no patience for him. One day my mom asked what was going on between us, and I said, ‘Nothing.’ But the more I thought about it, the more I realized
that it had to do with that joint.” She paused to drink a few gulps of her coffee.

“And the point is?” Violet asked.

“The point is that I couldn’t forgive him, since I never let myself be mad at him to begin with.” She sat back and folded her arms.

“I see,” said Violet.

“Do you?”

“You think I need to get mad at Ivy before I can forgive her.”

“Something like that,” Andi said. “But what the fuck do I know, right?”

A lot, Violet thought, as she rode home on the Long Island Rail Road. You know a lot.

It had never occurred to Violet, but maybe she really did need to get angry with Ivy before she could forgive her. Maybe that was why so many negative memories of her sister were now floating to the surface. But what was she so angry about?

Her friend Jill, who read a lot of self-help books, had once suggested that Violet was angry at her sister for dying. She said it was a common psychological phenomenon, however illogical. Violet understood, as she had experienced that when her father died, and even more when she lost her mother. But with Ivy, the explanation never felt quite right.

What would Dorothy Parker say? Violet had never really opened up to her about Ivy. She never even told her about the childhood incident that had been so traumatic. Would Mrs. Parker agree that Violet had been a mean and terrible brat? Probably. But would she also think Ivy had been a brat for reacting so dramatically?

No, Ivy couldn’t help it. She had been so hurt, hadn’t she?

Violet stared out the train window. They were past the Jamaica
station, picking up speed as they barreled through Queens toward Long Island. Soon the landscape would change from dingy factories and bland apartment buildings to tiny houses built close together. As they continued east, the homes would get larger and the plots would expand—the suburban dream spreading its wings as the city receded farther and farther into the horizon.

She was manipulating you.

The voice came from Violet’s own head. It was what she knew Dorothy Parker would say about her sister. But was it true? Had Ivy’s reaction been more about punishment and manipulation than hurt feelings?

And why did simply thinking about it make tears spill down Violet’s face as she stared out the window?