chapter fifteen
As we wait for Erin to emerge from the dressing room, Griffin tells me how wonderful last night was at the hotel. He again thanks me for the food I had sent over, saying they enjoyed tasting all the exotic cuisines as they sipped champagne that cost as much as my first car. He was even able to arrange for them to set up a king-sized waterbed in their suite.
We stand off in a corner, trying to remain out of the way as dozens of people rush around in a flurry of activity, shouting this and moving that. I find a ‘Mad Max Productions’ director’s chair to sit in while we wait. Gavin was able to shuffle a few things around last minute which resulted in Erin getting cast as an extra in the movie being shot under his studio label. It’s not anything big and fancy. No Brad Pitt or Julia Roberts. It’s an indie film that Gavin’s company bought as one of their first projects when he started his company early this year.
I smile thinking how grateful I am to be able to be a part of moments like this. Yesterday, one of Erin’s sisters had mentioned that before Erin decided to become a teacher, her life’s dream was to be an actress. Star in a movie and walk the red carpet. When she was little, she had a large roll of red felt her mom bought at a flea market and Erin would spread it across their living room and dress up like a princess while prancing around on it, thanking her many fans.
It was sheer luck that Gavin’s production was shooting locally today. He was able to get her added as an extra and as a bonus, she even gets to say a few words in passing to one of the lead characters. Because of the speaking part, and the fact that the cameras will be focused on her, even for just a few seconds, she had to be done in full hair and makeup. And apparently, even for an extra, that takes a lot of time.
So Griffin and I sit and make small talk while we wait for Erin’s film debut. We talk about the weather. It’s getting chilly. It makes me wonder if Erin will be able to hold on until the holidays. We talk about the restaurant. It makes me think of the first time I met her, looking larger than life and ready to take on the world with me. We talk about Baylor and how she’s ready to pop any day now.
It’s then that I notice him staring at my belly.
He looks around to make sure we’re alone. “Are we going to talk about this?”
“Talk about what?” As if I don’t know.
“The elephant in the room,” he says, nodding to my stomach.
“Are you calling me fat again?” I tease.
He laughs. It’s nice to hear him laugh again. “I wouldn’t dare. Not after the new asshole you ripped me last time.”
Now I laugh, thinking about the fight we had during his one and only cooking lesson. He studies me, looking between my face and my pregnant belly that is just beginning to become obvious to the world.
“She couldn’t give a rat’s ass if you learn how to cook,” I tell him. “You realize that now, right?”
He nods his head. “Yeah. Listen, I’m so sorry about what happened yesterday. I know my being drunk is no excuse. It won’t happen again. I was just so pissed at her.”
“Pissed?”
“Yeah, aren’t you? She took away our choices, Skylar. She took away the chance to be with her these last six weeks. I mean, if I had known then, I would have quit working and maybe taken her to see the world. Paris. She always wanted to go. We said we would. Someday. And now, well, what we’re setting up next week is great and all, but it’s not the same.”
I agree. Even buying out the entire Imax theater for a day and treating Erin to a visual experience in Paris that way, still won’t produce the memories of actually being there.
“And the choice of who we should be with? After she . . . when she’s gone. She’s taken that away from us, too. So, yes, I’m pissed at her. I won’t tell her that. I won’t taint her last months with my anger, but that’s the way I feel.”
I can only nod in agreement with everything he’s said. But I add, “We do have a choice, Griffin.” I motion to my belly. “We don’t have to do this.”
“You don’t want to?” he asks. His eyes trace the outline of the chair I’m sitting in.
“Do you?” My heart braces for his answer. And even though I know that if he says yes, he’ll be doing it for Erin and not for me, I still wait with baited breath.
“I want to honor her wishes. And it’s not like I don’t find you attractive. Of course I do. Any man in his right mind does.”
It’s hard to enjoy the compliment when I feel a ‘but’ coming, and it sends a spear straight into my heart. I’m not sure if I want to do this either, but hearing him say he doesn’t will crush me.
“But, I just can’t say for sure what I want right now. My wife is dying. It’s all I can do to hold it together and get through this. I’m sorry I can’t give you a better answer.”
I’m not sure what I expected him to say, but I respect him for what he said. If he’d said ‘hell, yeah, let’s get it on,’ I’d run the other way. If he’d said ‘hell, no, I don’t want my kid,’ I’d think he was just as much a low life. He said the perfect thing. Which happens to be the only thing he could have said to make me fall for him even more.
“We don’t have to figure it out right now,” I say. “This little guy isn’t going anywhere for a long time. But Erin is going to want answers. And we don’t have them. What are we going to do about that?”
He bites the inside of his cheek and stares at the ceiling. “We’re going to tell her what she wants to hear, I guess. We’ll not bring it up unless she does and when she does we’ll just say we’ve agreed to try. Nothing more, nothing less. Sound good?”
“Sounds good.”
We sit in awkward silence for a few minutes. How the hell can this be taking so long? It’s only a little hair and makeup. Erin’s already beautiful, they don’t have to do much. I search my mind to think of anything to say to pass the time.
I glance over at Griffin to see him rubbing his tattoo. “Do you think she’ll really get one?” I ask.
He chuckles. I understand. The idea of Miss Prim-and-proper getting a tattoo is laughable. “Who knows. But I’ll be there to hold her hand if she does. I’ll do anything for her, Skylar.”
Is there hidden meaning in that statement? He just told me a minute ago that he isn’t sure he can honor her wish, yet he’s telling me he’ll do anything. Maybe he means he’ll do anything while she’s alive, but then after, all bets are off.
“It’s started already,” he says.
“Started?”
He nods. “I missed all the signs before. The slurred or missing words. The fatigue. The headaches. I never once thought they meant anything. And now, for the past two days, I notice every little symptom. They scream out at me and are as obvious as her eyes are blue. And I notice new ones, as well. The way her hand falls away from mine when she loses feeling in it. The way she will sometimes ask the same question twice. It’s starting. And it kills me.”
It kills me, too. But I’m trying not to think about it. There will be plenty of time for that later. I try to lighten the mood. “Hey, would you mind if I steal Erin for a girl’s day tomorrow? She wants to color her hair and I have a few other things that don’t involve boys that I’d like to do with her.”
He looks pained, like he doesn’t want to let go of her for one second. But I can tell he knows she needs this. She needs time with her family and friends, too. He needs to share her with us. Even if it’s the hardest thing he ever has to do. He scrolls though his phone and then grabs a pen and paper off the nearest table. He scribbles something and hands it to me. “This is a hair stylist who works with a lot of the models I shoot. I’m going to text him right now and let him know you’ll be calling. He owes me a favor. If he’s in town, he’ll squeeze you in. I’m sure of it.”
My jaw drops when I see Erin emerge from the dressing room area. They’re directing her over to where she will stand with a large group of people. She’s supposed to be part of a crowd at a concert. They are pumping out dry ice to make it smoky. The lights dim after they’ve told everyone exactly how the scene will play out. She has one line. When the lead character walks by the crowd, she is supposed to stumble into him and say ‘Excuse me.’ That’s it. That’s all she has to do. And this took two hours of hair, makeup and costuming.
Griffin and I can’t peel our eyes away from her. She’s beaming. She’s acting out every little girl’s dream. The energy coming off her in the dimly lit studio is palpable. She’s gorgeous. She’s living.
His camera is immediately retrieved from a bag by our feet. He takes dozens, maybe hundreds, of pictures of her. He should. She’s radiating happiness.
It takes over an hour and six takes to get the scene right. But not because of Erin. She was flawless. Every time. Every take looked the same to me. I wonder if Gavin asked the director to stretch it out, giving her more time to enjoy the experience. When I find Gavin, standing close behind some of the cameras, he winks at me. Just as I suspected.
I glance at Griffin. He’s watching his wife with a look of awe. “She’s so happy,” he says, staring at her. “She needed this today, after the morning she had.”
I stiffen and my insides tense up. “Did something happen?”
“We went by her school. She had to tell her students she’s not coming back.” He shakes his head and I can tell he feels bad for the seven-year-olds who no doubt think Erin walks on water. “She didn’t tell them the entire truth. Only that she’s too sick to be their teacher anymore. It was heartbreaking, Skylar. They swarmed her after she told them. They begged her not to leave. They said they would help her out and be really good. They said they’d do anything to keep her there. I knew exactly how they felt and it gutted me.”
“I’m so sorry, Griffin.” I put my hand on his and give it a reassuring squeeze. Then I momentarily wonder if it’s okay to touch him. I stare at my hand that rests on his. I quickly look up to see that Griffin is doing the very same thing. He catches my eyes, holding them with his. He gives me a small nod. Then, at the same time, we withdraw our hands from one another.
I look over to see what’s happening on set only to find Erin striding towards us. I’m positive that she saw me touching him. Her gaze is fixed on the arm of the chair our hands just vacated. I also don’t miss the fact that it seems to make her happy.
This is truly twisted.
She flings her arms around me. “Thank you so much, Skylar. You and Gavin are absolutely wonderful to have set this up on such short notice. I’ll never forget this.”
“I’m glad it all came together so nicely. You were wonderful. A natural, Erin, really.”
She waves her hand up and down her body like a game show model, showcasing the dress they outfitted her in. “Isn’t it fabulous? They’re letting me keep it. Cancer perk, I guess.” She giggles. Griffin and I wince. “Anyway, I don’t want to waste this look. I think I have a gallon of makeup on. I’m freaking hot, don’t you think? Let’s go out.”
“Sweetheart, you’d be hot in a burlap sack,” Griffin says. “But, yes. We can go out. What did you have in mind?”
She looks at me. “How about your number nine?”
Griffin looks confused, but I know exactly what she wants. I know because Erin and I have this connection. This understanding of each other. This inexplicable bond that allows us to communicate without words. Well, and also because I know that number nine on the bucket list that Baylor and I concocted will have Erin walking into a crowded bar, shouting ‘Drinks are on me!’
“This is going to be so much fun,” I say, as Erin and I hook elbows and walk out of the studio with Griffin trailing behind.