“Stop talking before I realize what I’m saying.” He slowly pulls out of me. “Get dressed so we can go home.”
HEARSAY (N.):
SECOND-HAND EVIDENCE IN WHICH THE WITNESS IS NOT TELLING WHAT HE/SHE KNOWS PERSONALLY, BUT WHAT OTHERS HAVE SAID TO HIM/HER
SCARLETT
Jameson’s hand is entwined in mine behind the gear shift as we cross the Triborough Bridge.
We haven’t said a word this entire drive, but I haven’t felt the need to; the silence feels more than comfortable.
“Call from… Mother.” His dashboard suddenly lights up in blue, announcing a call. “Should I answer this, Mr. Tate?”
“Never,” he responds, clenching his jaw.
“Call from… Mother.” The dashboard repeats itself. “Should I answer this, Mr. Tate?”
“I said no,” he says.
“Okay. Will not answer.” The screen flashes white, then gray. “This contact is attempting to leave a voicemail. Would you like me to play it?”
“No.”
“Okay. Playing it.”
“Jesus Christ…” He groans and reaches forward to turn down the volume, but he suddenly changes his mind.
“James—” The woman’s voice is soft and airy. “I mean, Jameson. Please pick up the phone for me or your stepfather sometime this week? There’s a lot happening here at home, and I know with that date coming up you’re probably…” She sighs. “I love you, son. Please call me.”
Beep!
“End of message,” the dashboard says. “Would you like me to play it again?”
“Yes,” he says to my surprise. “Play it again.”
The system obliges, and when it ends, Jameson asks for a replay four more times.
Then he demands for it to be deleted.
He looks over at me as we pull into traffic.
“I don’t get along with my mother either,” he says. “I can relate.”
“Is it because of something she’s said?”
“Something she’s done.” He looks wistful. “Something completely unforgivable.”
I nod, waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he steers us into the right lane.
“Are you planning to tell me how your auditions are going, or do I have to fuck it out of you later this week?”
“I think they’re going well,” I say. “I should’ve received a notification about whether I landed a part inThe Producersas of yesterday.”
“You haven’t checked?”
“I have two more parts that should’ve sent emails today, so I’ll check before I go to bed,” I say. “That way I can cry myself to sleep when they turn me down.”
