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I hate lying. Not just because of the moral implications. I’m aterribleliar. Comes with the territory of having a really bad memory. But no one can find out what binds Arsène and me together. I don’t want to be pitied, whispered at, judged; most of all—I don’t want them to think the worst about Paul. Not when even I still can’t digest the idea that he was unfaithful.
Chrissy puts her fork down and gives me the Stare. The one Ma perfected when I was in high school and snuck out to make out with Rhys right after Sunday church.
“Winnie, we need to talk.”
“Oh, I know that line.” I break another piece of bread, dip it into the olive oil and vinegar, and pop it into my mouth. “You can’t break up with me, Chris. You’re the only friend I have in this godforsaken city.”
“You have to move on.” She remains serious.
“Move on?” I choke out, genuinely appalled by the idea. “It’s been less than a year!”
She cannot seriously mean I should date again. Maybe she is thinking I should adopt a pet or get out more. Not that these ideas seem more appealing than dating—nothinghas sounded appealing since Paul’s been gone—but at least they’re not outrageous.
“Don’t give me that.” Chrissy takes a sip of her smelly fat-burning tea. “Paul wasn’t some tortured saint. He was a cheating scumbag.”
“That’s pure speculation. We don’t know that,” I grind out.
“Wedo.” Chrissy slams her tumbler back on the table. “Youdon’t. Everyone around you knows. They just don’t say anything because you’ve been through enough.”
Do my parents and sisters think the same thing? That Paul had an affair?
“You have no reason to sit and pine for him. Ordering him food, doing the whole preaccident ritual,” she says with conviction, spinning in her chair to signal our waitress to bring the check. Her eyes remain on me.
Yeah. Chrissy may or may not have caught me keeping up with my takeout tradition with Paul.
“Look.” I groan. “Even if he did cheat on me—which I’m not saying that he did—we’d shared an entire history together. We’d been through a lot. I can’t just forget about him. It’s not that simple.”
“My point exactly! Another reason why you should move on. If he did this to youaftereverything you’d gone through, then I’m sorry, but he shouldn’t be forgiven, nor mourned. No one’s gonna judge you if you move on.”
The delicious food tastes like mud in my mouth. The waitress slides the check between us. I attempt to grab it, but Chrissy is faster. She grins, wiggling her eyebrows as she drops her credit card into the black leather bill holder and hands it back to the waitress.
“Point is, it’s time for you to move on, before the world moves on without you. Tough times never last, honey. Tough people, however ...” Chrissy reaches to pat my hand as the waitress hurries along with her credit card. “Life is beautiful and wild, and it doesn’t wait for you to decide to participate in it. You need to jump into the water headfirst. And when you do? Make sure to make a splash.”
An hour later, I walk into Calypso Hall for rehearsal. Since the place is closed until the matinee shows start, Jeremy, the daytime security guard, unlocks the door for me.
“Miz Ashcroft. Lovely day out, isn’t it?” he greets me.
I smile back in response, handing him a biscotti and coffee I purchased from the Italian place before coming here. “The loveliest, Jeremy. Here. I hope this sweetens up your day.”
“You’re too kind for this city, Winnifred.” He sighs.
I make my way backstage. Jeremy waves a frantic hand to stop me.
“Hey, wait, Miz Ashcroft! Have you seen this? Impressive, don’t you think?”
I turn around, coming face to face with something I have no idea how I missed when I walked in. It’s a floor-to-ceiling poster ofThe Seagull. Rather than displaying all the actors, it’s a close-up of Rahim and me.
ANTONCHEKHOV’STHESEAGULL.
STARRING:RAHIMFALLAHA, WINNIFREDASHCROFT, RENEEHINDS,ANDSLOANBARANSKI
The shot is of me staring at the camera, Rahim standing behind me, whispering in my ear. It is beautiful, tender, and erotic. But I can’t muster any excitement and pleasure from it. My heart doesn’t skip a beat, nor does it beat faster. This is the height of my career—something that would have made the old me leap in excitement, gather Jeremy into a hug, kiss the poster, take pictures, and send them to everyone on my contact list.
I feel so empty I want to scream just to fill my body with something.
Shed a tear. Just the one. To show yourself that you can. You’re an actress, for crying out loud!
“Good for you, Miz Ashcroft.” Jeremy tilts his hat in my direction. “Well deserved.”
