“Plus, you have your super-secret disguise.” She pointed at the hat and sunglasses I sported.
“I have many tricks up my sleeve. I’ve been doing this for a while. And it worked on you, if you recall.”
“True.” She pursed her lips. “But I wouldn’t have known who you were at all, were it not for George.”
“Ouch.”
She laughed and nudged me to move forward. “No offense. You know, I’m not really a movie or TV person. And horror of all horrors, I never watched the show.”
“Are you ready to tell me about that?” I asked her, hopeful that she’d share something about her life. “It does seem odd since your association with the creator.”
Her arms were behind her back as we slowly moved forward. She tilted her face to the sun before lowering again to be protected by the hat. “I read the books when I was a little older. They were … very important to me.”
“Me too,” I said. “To many people.”
“True.” She took a deep breath in and out, and I knew she was formulating her words just right. “I was not in a good place when the show came out. Like physically. I was still with my mom, and it was a whole thing. Finding a place to stay was sometimes an issue.” She looked away at a passing family of three, a little girl in the middle holding both parents’ hands. “I definitely never had consistent access to cable TV.” She cleared her throat. “This was all before George. This was—” She cut herself off. “It was a long time ago, but the show wasn’t on my radar. I actually didn’t read the books until I moved in with George and William. I was fifteen, and the show was over by then.”
The pieces clicked into place. I had wondered about their closeness. And I knew he had many foster children over the years.
“Where’d you go?” she asked, nudging me.
“I was thinking about how strange it was that we never met before recently,” I said.
She nodded. “I think your career had really taken off. You were like twenty and the last thing you’d care about was a teenage nobody passing through.”
Agree to disagree. I found myself wishing I’d met her ages ago. She went on.
“I felt embarrassed to be that age and reading them even though now I know millions of adults read them too. God, I hated being a teenager.”
“It’s a rough time,” I said. Though my teenage years were likely completely different from most peoples’, I was enthralled to be listening to her. She’d not ever opened up like this, but maybe being away from the house and all the pressure it represented freed her to relax. I loved her thoughtful, cautious way of speaking. It was the easiest thing in the world to stay focused on her as she spoke. The way her mouth moved as she formed words. The way her heavy lids conveyed subtle emotion, unlike so many people. I was beginning to learn the meanings of her smallest movements. But I’d only just begun to understand her ways. I had so much that I still needed to learn.
“At that point, I was stubborn about watching the show. It was this stupid point of pride for me,” she said.
We scooted forward in the line.
“Stubborn?”
“Inwardly, I was just embarrassed not to have the means to watch it, so if I made it my choice …” She shrugged. The thin strap of her dress fell, and I pushed it up her arm without thinking. The pads of my fingertips blazed a trail up the smooth, sun-kissed skin of her shoulder. Her head turned, those hypnotic eyes following the action, her lips a breath away from my lingering fingertip. Just as quickly, she turned back, pretending to study the crowd, her teeth digging into her luscious bottom lip. “Thanks.” Tiny bumps formed on her arm where the fine hair stood on edge. “But also, it was such a phenomenon by that time. I labeled myself alternative and purposely hated popular things because I thought they made me special somehow. I was very concerned about trying too hard.”
“Well, that sounds like most of us at that age. At least you grew out of it.”
“Not enough to watch the show.” She tilted her head and smiled. “Now it feels too late. The power of it for so many I think was the timing. The magic of youth.”
I made a sound of thoughtfulness. “I wonder about that a lot. Why it became so massive. I think you may be right about the timing. People found something within themselves to connect with one character or another. It was just a giant sandbox for the imagination. That’s why there’s so much fan fiction around it too. Have you ever read any of that?” I was secretly curious if she’d read any Adam Abotts stories.
She laughed. “No.”
“I don’t read it either. It makes me feel a bit skeevy. Don’t tell Charlie I said that.”
“I’ll take it out of my meeting notes for our next call,” she said dryly.
“It is now my life’s mission to get you to watch the show. I will convince you yet.”
“You can try.” She smiled sweetly. “When has any movie or show been better than the book? Zero times,” she added before I could answer, looking smug as she pushed up on her toes. “Ask any reader.”
“Right. Sure, because that’s not a bias sample group.”
She shrugged, pert nose still in the air. “I’m a purist.”
