Wish List (3 page)

“I wouldn’t count on wearing that dress if you keep eating the way you are. I looked at it when it was delivered and there aren’t any seams to let out.”

“Well, I’m not going to worry about it now. I’m so excited, Dolly. I think I can do this. It’ll be a real hoot when some of those players who crossed me off their list start sucking up. Guess that’s not very nice of me, huh? Who cares? It’s my turn now. I do feel good about this. Jeez, it’s raining again. Back to my work and my toasty fire. You should build one here in the kitchen fireplace. Do that, Dolly, and we’ll eat dinner out here. Let’s go to Aspen for Christmas and see some snow. I’ll make the reservations. Maybe we should invite Carla. What do you think?”

“What I think is you got a whole lot on your plate. The party, Aspen, the new business. Slow down. You don’t have to do everything all at once.”

“Yes, I do, Dolly. I have to keep busy so I don’t think. I don’t want to turn bitter and become one of those unforgiving recluses who abound in Hollywood. I knew what would happen going in, but I was young then and thought this day would never come. Life goes on and I want to go on, too. It’s the only way I know.”

“Okay, but pace yourself. Promise me.”

“I promise. See you at six o’clock.”

The afternoon passed quickly for Ariel. The decorator would arrive first thing in the morning. She made reservations for a seven-day stay in Aspen, then called Carla, who said she’d be delighted to make the trip. The dentist was away in Vegas on a convention so she made an appointment for the following week. Before she did her five-miles on the treadmill she washed her face, then reapplied the coverup. She wasn’t sure, but she thought the bumps were bigger and her entire face ached. The Motrin should have kicked in by now. Maybe she should try another dentist. She finally decided if she wasn’t any better by morning she’d call Dolly’s dentist. She popped two more Motrin from a bottle she kept in her desk.

Ariel was a half-mile into her walk when she had to get off the treadmill because her head started to pound unbearably. Never a worrier by nature, she was now more than a little concerned that something might be seriously wrong. Lord, what if she did have an abscessed tooth and they had to take off all her pricey porcelain? I’m not going to worry about it now, she told herself. They’ll fix me some kind of temporary and I’ll hide out. It’s that simple.

The clock over the mantel said it was four-thirty. Time for a little nap before dinner. Tomorrow she would feel better, she was sure of it. Tomorrow would be the first day of her new career. She crossed her fingers the way she did when she was a child, hoping that this new career would be as successful as the one she was giving up.
I wish
. . .

Two

It was a celebratory meeting in more ways than one. It was also Halloween and Dolly had decorated the lawn and front door with fake spider webs, goblins, and witches chasing sheet-clad ghosts.

They were all waiting for Ariel to return from town: financial advisor Ken Lamantia; agent Sid Berger; broker Gary Kaplan; actuary Alex Carpenter; and a team of lawyers, Marty Friedman, Ed Grueberger, and Alan Kaufman. Audrey and Mike Bernstein, Ariel’s long-time accountants, and Carla Simmons were the last to arrive. They were all talking at once, each offering input and toasting the success of Perfect Productions with fresh apple cider.

“Have all the RSVP’s for the party come in yet?” Sid asked.

Dolly nodded. “Two hundred people. Everything’s under control. I’m sure Ariel will be home any minute now. She’s pretty excited.”

A discussion followed about how well Ariel was making the transition from actress to producer and how successful they all knew Perfect Productions was going to be.

“Where’d she go?” Carla asked curiously.

“I believe she had a fitting for her dress. You know how that goes. She probably lost track of time. It’s possible she had some last minute details to see to about the party. It’s just two weeks away. I think I hear the garage door. If anyone wants to spike the cider, feel free. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dolly opened the kitchen door that led to the garage. Ariel was sitting in her car, her head in her arms over the steering wheel. She didn’t move when Dolly opened the door. “Everyone’s here, Ariel. They’re probably spiking the cider as I speak. How did you like the lawn decorations?” When there was no reply, Dolly reached in to the car and tugged at Ariel’s arm. “What’s wrong?” she asked fearfully.

“Everything is wrong. Dolly, go in there and tell them all to go home. Tell them I’ll call them in the morning. I’m not up to . . . I can’t face . . . do it, Dolly.”

“Not until you tell me why. You went to the dentist, didn’t you? I told you not to cancel that appointment, but did you listen? No! You have an abscess and he wants to take off your caps? It’s not the end of the world, Ariel. Come on now, you’re an actress. Prove it. Your friends have worked night and day to get you to this point. They’re excited for you and for themselves. You can’t let them down. Are you listening to me, Ariel?”

“I didn’t go to the dentist, I went to a doctor. These . . .
things
on my face aren’t from an abscessed tooth. They’re
growths
, and Doctor Davis wants to operate on them as soon as possible. I have to have a biopsy tomorrow morning. I’m scared, Dolly. I could have . . . I mean I really could have . . . Oh, God!”

“What else did he say?” Dolly demanded. “Tell me everything he said. And don’t tell me you don’t remember. You can memorize an entire script so I know you can tell me verbatim what he said.”

“He said I was a fool to wait so long to make an appointment. He doesn’t think they’re malignant, but surgery is required. He wants a biopsy. He’s going to have a plastic surgeon there tomorrow when they do it. I asked him if I’d be disfigured and he said there was a possibility and that’s why he wants the plastic surgeon there. That’s all he said, Dolly.”

“Okay. We know what to expect now. We’ll deal with it. Get out of that car and start acting. We aren’t going to fall apart here. There’s too much at stake. We’re thinking positive. That’s an order, Ariel. A doctor wouldn’t commit to saying he thinks your bumps are benign if he didn’t think so. Come on, you’re in perfect health. If you don’t get out of that car right now, I’m quitting. For good. I mean it. I want to see that famous smile of yours. You can do this, Ariel.” Her tone of voice was so forceful that Ariel climbed from the car.

“We’re canceling the party,” she said.

“Okay by me. You have to stop being so damn vain, Ariel. And remember something else. God never gives you more than you can handle. Okay, let’s go,” Dolly said as she held open the door leading to the kitchen.

“What would I do without you, Dolly?”

“You’d do just fine.”

It was one of Ariel’s best acting jobs. When she said good-by to the last guest, she flopped down on the couch and lit a cigarette. “By God, I did it.”

“Yes, you did. I can’t believe Ken raised five million in just a few weeks. Somebody has confidence in you. Now, all you need is a good script and actors who can put you over the top. People are standing in line to go on your payroll. You’re on a roll, Ariel. I’m going to make us a quick dinner and then I’ll get on the invitations. I think I’ll just say due to a family emergency we’re canceling till after the first of the year. It’ll be a one, two, three thing. I can have them in the mail first thing in the morning. By the way, I logged in another 44 scripts this morning. That brings your total to 611. You have to hire some readers, Ariel, and you can’t put it off any longer. Carla took a batch home with her. I told her you’d pay her by the script. Was that okay?”

“Sure. You probably should have written her a check.”

“I did. I even gave her some extra. I entered it in the checkbook. She ate like a wolf. I gave her a pie, a jug of cider, and those two chickens I roasted for dinner. We’re having scrambled eggs since I don’t have time to cook now.”

“You’re a good person, Dolly.”

“That’s because I had a good teacher. What time is your appointment tomorrow?”

“Eight A.M.”

“I’ll drive you. Okay, let’s do something about these scripts. I’ll make us some coffee and we’ll work until dinner. You’re going to be really surprised at some of the names on those scripts. Fast track, big money writers. They must think you have something going here. I’m impressed, Ariel. I mean that.”

“Yeah. Me, too. Dolly, look me in the eye and tell me the truth. Do you think I’ll come .out of this okay?”

“Absolutely!”

“Okay, get the coffee.”

Ariel pushed the thickly padded chair to the farthest corner in the room where she sat down to wait for Dolly. God, she would be so glad to get out of here. All she wanted was to go home and suck her thumb. She should have gone home four days ago, but she’d run a low grade fever that prevented the doctor from discharging her. Now, after three weeks and three operations, she was fit to be sent home.

The doctors and nurses were upset with her because she refused to look in the mirror. Well, guess what, Ariel thought. I don’t care if you’re upset with me or not. I want to be in the privacy of my own bathroom, with all that glorious lighting, when I see myself for the first time. If I fall apart I don’t want anyone to see me. God, what did I ever do to deserve this? Why me? Why now?

Next week her face would be plastered all over the tabloids. Before and after pictures that they would peddle for money. Maybe I’m flattering myself, she thought glumly.

I wish
. . . Maybe . . . She closed her eyes and tried to think and remember all the decisions she’d made while lying in her hospital bed. So many of them. One after the other. Give up on the production company. Or, turn it over to Carla, but that probably wouldn’t work. Tell Ken Lamantia to return the money to her backers. Send back all the scripts. Close up shop and . . . do what? Put a notice in all the trade papers that she was retiring and moving away? Where? Back to Chula Vista. The only place that ever truly felt like home. And do what? Who knows. She’d be just a person there, not a has-been movie star. She’d buy a house, get a few pets, argue and fight with Dolly, do some gardening, get a library card, shop in Wal-Mart, go back to church. I’ll write my memoirs, she told herself, put all my scrapbooks in a trunk in the attic. Maybe I can become Agnes Bixby again. Good old Aggie. I’ll take long walks with my two dogs, do good deeds. And when I’m done doing that, what will I do? Exist. Try not to think about the past. Maybe I’ll learn to cook. Dolly will teach me. Two dogs will keep me busy.

She cried then, because she didn’t know what else to do. She thought about the good old days everyone talked about. But, were they really the good old days? Did working like a Trojan six days a week for over thirty years with vacations so few and far apart that she could barely remember them, count as good old days? Did starving herself so the extra pounds wouldn’t show up on the camera constitute good old days? Did being so tired at the end of the day with no time for a social life, count? Good old days, my ass.

She thought about Max Winters, her first husband. He was happily married now with three children. They were friends. He called often to see how she was. Max had wanted children, but she didn’t. She hadn’t really loved him, either. She’d tried. It didn’t work. He’d been more than generous with his divorce settlement. She hadn’t wanted anything, but he’d settled two million dollars on her and even told her how to invest it for the best return. Every year at Christmastime she sent champagne and poinsettias to Max and his wife, and toys for the children. He’d sent so many yellow roses, her favorite flower, after her operation, she’d been dizzy with the scent. Every day he sent a card and he called first thing in the morning and again before he retired.
Keep your chin up, kiddo. Nothing’s as bad as it seems at first. Just hang in there and if there’s anything you want or need, call me.

“Give me back my old face,” she blubbered into a wad of tissues.

And then there was her second husband, Adam Jessup. Adam was an actor—and prettier than she was. A fine man who didn’t know the first thing about being a husband. That was okay, too, because she didn’t know much about being a wife. Still, they’d stayed married for seven years, and mutually agreed to the divorce. He’d been generous, too, giving her the Malibu beach house, the Bentley, the ski chalet in Aspen, and a cool million dollars. He’d even paid her legal bills. She’d just wanted to walk away and pretend she’d never been married, but Adam said it would look terrible if he wasn’t generous.
I have an image to protect, Ariel. You have to take it
. So, she’d taken it and asked Max the best way to invest it. He told her to sell the chalet and the beach house and bank the money.
Keep the Bentley—it’ll be worth a lot one of these days.
She was a very wealthy woman. And look at me now. What good is money when you have to hide so people don’t see you? She was crying again, and angry with herself for doing it.

Ariel paced the hospital room, her eyes deliberately avoiding the mirror over the dresser. “C’mon, Dolly, where are you? I want to get out of here.” The moment the words were out of her mouth the door to her room opened. Dolly and Carla Simmons walked in, pushing a wheelchair.

“I know you don’t need this, but hospital rules say you have to ride in it down to the door and then through the door to the car. Hop on, Ariel,” Dolly said.

“Well, aren’t you going to say something?” Ariel demanded.

“Yep. The turkey’s all ready to go in the oven. I just have to stuff it in the morning. I made cranberry sauce and three pies. We’re having turnips, candied sweet potatoes, string beans almandine, fresh peas that look like little emeralds, and homemade dinner rolls from scratch. Plum brandy for us and Diet Pepsi for Carla. I got this great White Russian coffee the woman in the store said is all the rage. That’s it. Well, we’re ready if you are.”

“That’s not what I meant and you damn well know it, Dolly.”

“Oh, no, Ariel. If you want to know how you look, there’s a mirror behind you. We’ll wait. We have all the time in the world.”

“I can’t,” Ariel whispered.

“Yes, you can. All you have to do is turn around. It’s not a big mirror. You have to do it sometime, why not now so you can get it over with? Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. Think about how much you have to be grateful for. Stop being so selfish. It all worked out for you. You don’t have that deadly disease you were so worried about. You had plastic surgery and now it’s all over. You’re going to get on with your life and life is going to be beautiful. Believe that and you’re home free.”

“Easy for you to say,” Ariel snapped. “Carla, how bad is it?”

“You’re as beautiful as you ever were. Beauty, Ariel, is in the eye of the beholder. You tell me that three times a week. If you were giving me a snow job I’m going to be mighty upset. You’re a kind, generous, caring human being and it shows. Be glad you’re alive and well. Think about the people that aren’t so lucky. God smiled on you, Ariel, so don’t be a shit now. Turn around—let’s get it over with so we can go home. And get that damn hair off your face. You look like Cousin It.”

“I’ll do it . . . look . . . when I get home.”

“No. You need to do it now. Do it, Ariel, or I quit and you can make that turkey by yourself. You can get yourself home, too.”

“Why are you doing this to me? Don’t you have any compassion? I’m firing you as soon as we get home.”

“It doesn’t work that way. Either you look now or you get home on your own. I quit yesterday so you can’t fire me. I’m here now out of the goodness of my heart. I’m leaving right after Thanksgiving. To answer your question, I have bushels of compassion. So does Carla. Do it, Ariel.”

“All right!”

Ariel turned, using both hands as she did so, to grasp her thick hair to pull it back from her face. Her gasp was so loud the two women watching her shuddered. When she started to wail they clasped hands, but didn’t move.

“So you have a little hole in your forehead,” Dolly said. “Bangs will cover it. That little droop by your left eye can be camouflaged with makeup. The one in the middle of your chin can be called a cleft. Actually, it’s kind of cute. The hole in your cheek can be considered a rather large dimple. The surgeon said the droop at the corner of your mouth will disappear in about six weeks. The scars will fade in time. You’re alive, Ariel. You have so much. Be thankful this is as bad as it gets.”

They were right and she knew it. They cared about her. She was being selfish. She knew that, too. It was all going to take some getting used to. She turned around and smiled. She wasn’t acting when she said, “I never knew how much you two meant to me until this very minute. Thanks for being here for me. I probably wouldn’t have made it without you. I’m sorry about . . . being such a . . . ”