Tangled Up in Daydreams (20 page)

“I know, I know. I'm perfect.” Rolling her eyes. “He's not so bad either.”

“Have you heard that snort, hacking, spitting thing he does?”

“I have ordered him to do it only in the privacy of the bathroom. What is that by the way?”

“No idea, but it is the grossest thing I have ever heard.” Chuckling. “Mom and I used to stop the car and make him get out whenever we heard it starting.”

“It's pretty bad.” Laughing harder. “Okay, enough. Obviously, Liam's issues are a little more unsettling than unusual body noises or we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

“Yeah.” Taking a deep breath. “He made me a deal a little while ago and in one evening he proceeded to do pretty much everything he agreed not to. At least he did it all in one fell swoop. No half-assing his fuckup. I have to admire that.”

“I note some sarcasm.”

“Of course.” Sipping the last of her coffee.

“Look, what it comes down to is, is this incident the deal-breaker?”

“I don't know. Part of me thinks it should be and part of me knows he's dealing with a sickness and that he's trying to get help and that should count for something.”

“Well, take the time you need to figure that out. If you are strong enough to trust him again and try, then do it with everything you have, and if you're not, it doesn't make you less of who you are or less compassionate. This is your life as well.” Getting up all of a sudden. “I hate to run right in the middle of this, but I have to go home. I have this nagging urge to pee, and my back and feet feel like they are going to fall off. I feel like I am swelling exponentially. Do you want me to give you a ride to your car?”

“No thanks. It's just around the block. I think I'm going to sit here a while.”

“Thanks again for your help today.” Kissing Molly on the cheek. “I'm sorry to bail right in the middle of things.”

“Don't be, thanks for listening.”

Renee walked out of the café, and Molly stared at the leftover foam in her coffee. It felt weird talking about all this. She felt like she was on an episode of
Oprah
. Was she becoming some clichéd story of when a good girl loves the wrong man? Molly hated being a cliché. Hated having anything about her be normal or usual or predictable. How had things come to this? A simple meet and fall turns into a pathetic melodrama of bad influences, being under the influence, and wondering whether or not to let all that influence the future. This was not how their
Behind the Music
was supposed to be. They were going to be the Bon Jovis or Paul and Linda. They were supposed to make it through the pitfalls of fame together. Does the whole future they planned come down to one night? Well, in reality it wasn't one night, it was a myriad of small things that culminated in a one-night scenario. Could she move on and move past and love him, or could she move on and move past and learn to live without him?

S
unday morning, Molly woke up to the smell of pancakes. Her whole body softened and she yawned herself downstairs in her snowman pajamas. Her mother was sitting at the table reading the
New York Times
and her father was manning the griddle. Molly poured herself a glass of orange juice and sat down. She stealthily weaseled the magazine section from beneath the pile.

“What do you think you are doing?” Helen asking without missing a beat.

“What do you mean?” Settling into her seat.

“It's not going to happen.”

“What's not going to happen?” Leaning back in her chair to grab a pen off the counter.

“Don't you dare.”

“Dare do what?” Slowly inching away from her mother.

“There's no way you are getting first crack.”

“Really?” Jumping up and running into the living room.

“Molly!” Helen jumped up as well and chased Molly.

Mother and daughter proceeded to play tag all around the house. Shrieks of laughter echoed and both ran back into the kitchen.

“Hand it over, Molly.”

“Never.” Molly giggled

“Molly, give me my crossword puzzle.”

“Yours? Dad, who bought the paper this morning?” Hovering around the other side of the table.

“I did.” Lifting pancakes onto a plate.

“I see, so Mother, this really isn't your puzzle, it's Dad's.”

“And?”

“And, Dad can I have it?” Waving it back and forth just out of Helen's reach.

“Sure.”

“Sure!” Helen shot him a death grin. “Henry, you just blew it.”

“I did?” Sitting down between them.

“Yup, buckaroo. Totally blew it.” Giving up and sitting down.

“What does that mean?” Henry asked.

“You will find out later.” Winking at him.

“Gross.” Sitting down. “Too much information. Here, Mom, I was just kidding.” Tossing Helen the paper.

“Thank you.” Taking the magazine and stuffing it under her bottom. “Just to be safe.”

“What are you going to do today, Molly?” Henry asked as he dished.

“Some work and a yoga class with Renee later on. Mom, you want to come?”

“What time?”

“Four-thirty.”

“Sounds good, then maybe all of us can grab an early dinner.”

“I'll call Renee later and ask.” Taking a large bite.

“How come no one ever asks me if I want to go to yoga?”

“Do you?” Molly asked.

“No, but I would like to be asked.”

“Okay, Dad.” Rolling her eyes and taking another bite.

All of a sudden, Molly felt nausea rise up. She threw down her fork and rushed to the bathroom. Barely making it on time, Molly threw up. This was becoming a really bad habit. Any questions about bulimia were definitely answered with a resounding “no.” Her parents both had concerned faces when she returned to the table.

“Honey, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Must be a little bug. I'll be fine.” Taking a sip of water.

“Maybe you should go lie down?”

“That's a good idea.”

Molly went upstairs and fell into her bed. Soon she was asleep.

The bar was crowded. When she walked in, the wall of heat melted over her and instantly dampened her brow. She traced a finger along her neck and licked the sweat. It tasted sweet and sad like a ballad. Everything was dark and red. Pulsing, dancing, beating like a heart. It was a tangle of leather and lips. Molly started swaying, moving through the collection of faces. In the distance, Molly could see a band on a small stage. She wanted to get closer. Soon she was in front. It was Liam, singing. He didn't see her. She felt beads of his sweat landing on her. They burned. Tiny blisters popped up where they landed. He looked down and smiled. He finished singing and left the stage. Molly waited. Waiting. Wait, she turned around and the place was empty. A bottle rolled and rested by her heel. She leaned down to pick it up.

“He left.”

Elena.

“He knew I was waiting.”

“He's gone. I'm sorry.”

“No you're not.”

“I love him too.”

“I know.”

“He loves you.”

“But he's gone.”

“Not forever. He's trying to get home.”

“I don't live there anymore.”

“He's trying to get home.”

Elena turned around and walked away. Molly was alone again. She started running, sprinting for the door. She threw it open and tumbled into the daylight. The streets were empty. She kept running.

Molly woke up bathed in sweat. The light was fading and the clock read 5:10. So much for yoga. Molly sat up and felt her head spin. Maybe she really was catching a bug. She lay back down and stared at the ceiling. She swallowed hard and searched the bed for her CD remote control. She pressed
PLAY
and the Cowboy Junkies' “Misguided Angel” filled the room. Molly quietly mouthed every word to the tortured dirge. There was a small knock at the door. Helen poked her head in. She came in and sat down at the edge of Molly's bed.

“I saved it for you.” Handing her the magazine section.

“Thanks.”

“Want to do it together?”

“Sure.”

“What are you listening to?” Helen asked.

“Some tragic song about being in love with the wrong man.”

“Sounds good.” Sarcastically.

Helen flicked on the light and snuggled in next to Molly. For an hour, the two of them quietly worked and eventually finished all but a few clues. Helen had a knack for all those long theme-related answers and Molly was stellar at utilizing her expensive verbal SAT tutoring sessions. Molly curled into her mother and took a deep breath. Helen's cashmere sweater caressed Molly's cheek. Molly felt safe for the first time since she left the hospital. As Martha Stewart would say, “It's a good thing.”

“Feeling better?” Helen asked.

“Yeah, my stomach still feels a little fluttery, but I'm fine.”

“It's been nice having you home.”

“I know.”

“How long are you thinking about staying?”

“Don't know.”

“You can't avoid the situation forever. It's not like you to run away.”

“I just want to figure things out before I go back.”

“That's a good idea, but don't get stuck here or anywhere, Molly. That's something I always admired in you, your drive. You're idling, baby.”

“Mom, what do you think?”

Molly rolled on her side and looked up at her mother. She could tell Helen was pondering the question because her brow was slightly furrowed. Molly knew Helen was running down the list of all the stupid things Liam had pulled over the years. Helen was probably focusing on the time that she and Henry had come to visit LA for the sole purpose of meeting him and wound up never even catching a glimpse. It was post–bowling birthday, pre-tour. Molly and Liam had settled into that comfortable couple phase where there were fewer and fewer questions and more time spent just having a good time. Molly should have known that this is precisely the time one does not introduce parents into the equation. Why rock the boat? The whole weekend wound up being a huge disaster. If Helen and Henry knew the real reason they failed to meet him, they would have advised Molly to dump him immediately.

Helen and Henry had flown in on the way to their tropical weeklong escape to Hawaii. They planned one whole day and night in LA before their flight to Maui. Simple enough. Molly picked them up at the airport, settled them into their hotel, and placed a call to Liam from the lobby to make a lunch plan.

“Hi, babe.”

“Molly, are they with you yet?”

“Yeah, we just checked in and now are plotting the lunch stop. Where should we go?”

“I can't make it after all.”

“Okay.” A little disappointed.

“This meeting came up and I have to go into the studio sooner than I thought. I'm so sorry.”

“It's all right. I guess we will just meet up at dinner then?”

“I'll be there. Little Door at eight-thirty.”

“See you then.”

“Love you.” Hanging up.

Molly stuffed her phone back into her vintage Gucci blue doctor bag she bought on eBay, and grabbed her valet ticket from the maw. A small twinge was beginning to form at the base of her spine. In retrospect, it was a physical premonition. Helen strolled over to her daughter and linked her arm through hers. Henry followed suit on the other side.

“Guys.” Unwinding herself. “I am twenty-seven years old. The double-hook job is a little nineteen-eighty-six.” Snapping at them.

“Sorry.” Blurting in unison.

Molly looked up and saw a bit of crest fall.

“No, I'm sorry. That was really rude.” Reattaching herself. “I didn't mean to snap. Looks like Liam won't be meeting us for lunch after all. Something came up.”

“That's too bad.” Understanding his daughter. “He is coming tonight?”

“Definitely. And so is Jay.”

“Oh, good. It's been too long since we saw her last.”

“So what would you two like to eat?”

“I have a craving for the Ivy's chop salad,” Helen mused.

“The Ivy it is.”

Molly and her parents had spent the day much how they usually did when they went on city vacations together. They ate and then shopped. After hitting pretty much every shop near and far, Molly dropped them at the hotel for a rest and a shower. She headed home for a rest of her own. She unlocked the door, threw her packages on the counter, and grabbed a water from the fridge. After a mini stretch routine using the kitchen counter as a ballet bar, the twinge still would not cease to exist. She picked up the phone.