"Tabby, is it true? Are you coming to New York? Hicklam isn't that far from where my home base is. I can make sure I'm around so I can see you." She's practically squealing. This is as close to giddy as Mandy gets.
Fake news travels fast.
"Yeah, sorry. I'm not sure where that story came from. That reporter must be smoking crack."
"Oh." Even three thousand miles away, and over the phone, I can hear the disappointment in her voice. "I got all excited. I started making all these plans in my head. I miss you."
"I miss you too. I didn't realize you were that close." Of course I didn't. If it's not right in New York City, I have no idea. And even then, I really don't know where I'm going. When you say New York to me, I think the city. I often forget that there's anything else.
"Yeah. Myles and I used to go down to The Edison before the twins were born. I haven't been back in … well, Colin and Madden are nine, so I'm way overdue. They always did a great job at that theater. How did you get connected with them?"
"I'm not. I mean, not really. I hung out with a guy who works for them. He's, like, a director or something." I've never had a good memory for details. Mostly because I don't pay attention. It's been my downfall on more than one occasion. "We were set up, like a date, kind of but not really, and I went to see him while he was running auditions."
"Is this the guy from the karaoke videos? He's cute. And also, I've missed talking to you. I love how you're all over the place, yet I still follow you."
I recount the date and then the quest to find him again, only to have our time cut short by the accident.
"Oh, right. I'd heard about that. I didn't realize Paisley was with him. Poor baby. How's she doing?"
That's a relief—Paisley's presence didn't make the news. Despite other people being reported in the car, no one seems concerned about who they were or how they're doing. I scoured the internet, looking for stories about it, and Mandy certainly would have picked up on it if it had been reported. It's like Paisley doesn't exist in Jonathan Spencer Maxwell's world.
I sit back on my couch, watching Paisley play on her iPad on the big oversized chair. She's stretched out, and at any moment, I expect her to ask me to feed her grapes from the bunch. In our video for "Anything is Paw-sable," we played different famous lovers throughout history. I was Cleopatra. Actually, I was Cleo-cat-ra, being wooed by Bark Antony.
Stupid cat puns.
Paisley's posture doesn't look far from the Queen of Egypt. She just needs heavy black eyeliner and some bangs.
And cat ears, of course.
"She's fine." I fill her in on the medical part. "Getting extra time on the iPad, so I'm sure she thinks it's the best thing ever."
"Right? My boys are practically feral until you put a screen in front of them, and then they can be quiet for hours. I feel guilty, but sometimes I need to get stuff done. It's hard trying to focus on writing when they're destroying the place."
"How is writing going? Are you almost done?"
"I've got about four songs totally done and recorded. Four more partially done, and two that don't exist yet. Ben's working on the music, but it's been … a delicate situation. Myles doesn't want Ben around when the kids are around, and Ben's still in Tennessee so … Yeah. Delicate. Complicated. Messy."
I don't envy Mandy and her asshole ex-husband at all. "Sheesh, that sucks. I mean, my situation is no walk in the park, but at least Jonathan Spencer Maxwell isn't openly hostile to me."
I'm always afraid he will be, but that's another story.
"Tab, it's been four years. When are you going to stop calling him Jonathan Spencer Maxwell? I'm sure not everyone calls him that all the time. What do the people in his real life call him?"
"Jon." Even as I say it, it sounds foreign and wrong. "But that's for the people close to him. The people important to him."
"You're the mother of his child. That's got to count for something."
I shrug, even though she can't see it through the phone. "Really, if I hadn't gotten pregnant, he would just be someone I slept with once." That is, if he hadn't lied to me about having had a vasectomy. I still don't know what his motivation for that was. It was almost like he wanted to get caught cheating. Why, I'll never know. With narcissists like him, you really don't want to ask why.
"Okay, so back to why I called. You'renotgoing to The Edison? Are you sure?"
I laugh. "I'm sure, though I did audition, so technically I guess I could."
"Well, how did you leave things with them—and him?"
“I ran out on him. I mean, I left. I had to, to get to Paisley. We were only going to have a few days of fun together anyway. I live here and he lives there. You know I'm not cut out for a long distance thing, and I don't think he even does relationships. It is what it is. He's just another person I slept with."
Even though I said the same thing about Jonathan Spencer Maxwell, it doesn't feel the same. My time with Henderson is totally different. It's almost like it meant something.
