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I resist the urge to shout at her. This is the same conversation we’ve had for the last year. Nicola is an actress, not a particularly successful one, but she likes nice things. I never minded buying things for her. But apparently I wasn’t generous enough because I found out three months ago she had opened several lines of credit in my name and had racked up almost one hundred thousand dollars in debt on clothes, shoes, and makeup.
It wasn’t the money that made me the angriest, even though I find it obscene she could spend this amount of money on anything in such a short amount of time. It was the deception and then the lying she did to try and cover it up when it all started to come apart.
Suddenly, I found myself engaged to a woman who was not only capable of lying to me, but stealing from me, too. The whole situation felt like a total farce. I called off the engagement, moved out, and came to DC to oversee the agency’s expansion into the DC market.
I have to go back to New York this week for a couple of meetings, but I
don’t intend to see Nicola. I’ve found it remarkable how quickly I got over her once I saw her for who she really is.
“I don’t care how much you spent. I don’t care about anything other than you getting ready to move out when the lease is up in three months,” I grind out.
We’re pulling up at the departure terminal and I'm eager to end this call.
“Well, that’s actually what I’m calling about. I need a little more time. Work hasn’t been steady—”
“You have three months. I’m not responsible for your living situation. Figure it out. I’ve been fair and let you stay there without having to pay a dime of rent. I paid off all the credit cards and lines of credit you opened. If you can’t get a job acting, then think of something else. That’s what regular people do.”
“How can you do this to me?” She wails so loudly I have to pull the phone away from my ear.
“Do what, exactly? Give you a free place to stay? Not call the police when you essentially stole from me and pay for all the shit you bought with that stolen money? Is that what you mean?” I return.
Greg opens my door, my carry-on in his hand. I’m done with this conversation.
“I'm at the airport. I have to go. Don’t call me unless it’s to let me know you’ve turned over the keys and are moving out. You have until June.” I don’t wait for her response and hang up.
I step out of the car and take a big gulp of the cool, spring evening air. It feels cleansing after my conversation with Nicola.
I walk toward the terminal, eager to get to New York. I want to get back to DC and focus on our grand opening.
I also want to get back to Milly and her little guy. I smile at myself. He's a great kid. Obviously, she has done a great job with him. I feel ashamed I resented him so much for months.
Milly’s given me another chance. I have her back. She still loves me. She's wearing my ring around her neck. It’s crazy early, but I want to put another one on her hand. I don’t want to take any chances that I’ll lose her again. It is a crazy thought, she's not an object to lose or win—I know that. But, we were separated once before and it cost us years. I don’t want anything to come between us again. I know I need to talk to my mother and confront her about what she said to Milly.
My gut twists at the thought. My mother and I barely speak. When my father’s life insurance policy came through, she upped and moved to Sedona. It’s where she still is. She never leaves, except to go skiing in Aspen and an annual trip she and her boyfriend Jean-Luc take to their home in Marseille every summer. She has a sweet life, and I know it’s wrong, but I resent her for it because my dad died to give it to her, and she didn’t have the decency to pretend to mourn him.
Her behavior is such a stark contrast to Mrs. Hassan’s, who is on the other end of the spectrum. Milly makes it sounds as though she devoted her life to her husband—for good or for bad—I wasn’t sure.
I think back to our conversation this morning about her father, and I'm even more convinced than ever that his disappearance had nothing to do with Enron. I want to encourage her to do the press conference because if they think it will convince him to turn himself in it’s worth a shot.
Milly needs peace over this situation, and I want to help her get it. I just hope I’m not opening Pandora’s box.
19
* * *
“When is this going to be over?”
This loud whisper came from Rachael. She's sitting in the row behind me, next to Kevin, at Anthony’s school Easter program.
I roll my eyes and only my mother’s warning squeeze on my thigh stops me from turning around to tell her to shut up.
This is my first real event at Anthony’s school since Kevin and I split. I was hoping an evening free of any drama would show them I was still the same old boring Milly.
When I saw Kevin walk in with her, I felt a horrifying combination of humiliation and shock. I couldn’t believe he would bring her here, to parade her in front of these people I have to see every day.
I already deal with their snide barbs about being a single parent and their disingenuous offers of “help” if I need it. Now, they can add their jokes about being traded in for a younger model to their running repertoire of the disaster that is Milly Dennis’ life. The only woman I’ve befriended is Laila and she isn’t here tonight.
This is Anthony’s second year at this school and this is only the second time Kevin has bothered to attend any of his performances. It is galling to have to share what should be an evening of pride and happiness with them just so they can use it in their bid to gain custody.
