Читать книгу You Have To Kiss a Lot of Frogs - Laurie Graff, Laurie Graff - Страница 15

Valentine’s Day

Upper East Side, NYC 1994

“Have whatever you want,” Henry told me. “You’re our little girl, it’s Valentine’s Day, and your mother and I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Look, Karrie,” Millie said. “There’s a Valentine’s Day Special. You can have a tender, juicy chicken breast à la Romeo with artichokes and mushrooms. You’re the artichoke eater here, and an Idaho baked potato with fresh asparagus and hollandaise. I don’t like hollandaise sauce, it has no taste, but you like that. And it comes with dessert. Juliet Surprise: A chocolate brownie topped with whipped cream and a cherry. How does that sound?”

“Chicken and artichokes make me think of Jack,” I said. I reached for the miniature blackboard that had the daily specials written in pink chalk.

“Why are we talking about Jack?” asked Millie.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, contemplating the chicken breast. “Maybe because he was my boyfriend for a year, and it’s only six weeks since we broke up and I’m despondent about the whole thing. Maybe that’s why. But I could be wrong.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” said Henry. “We’re all together. Why are you even thinking about him when you’re with us?”

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine what came over me.”

We were seated in a corner nook of the heated indoor café. A candle illuminated the table. Outside on Second Avenue couples walked by, huddled in down coats, romping through the gray of the city, hailing cabs and kissing. I turned to my parents. “What are you going to have?”

“I’m going to have the fish,” Henry said.

“Me too,” echoed Millie.

“So will I.” I made it unanimous.

“Since when do you eat fish?” asked Henry.

“Always. I always eat fish. What is the fish tonight?”

“Snapper,” Henry said. “Red snapper. You like that?”

I nodded.

“You’re sure now?” Henry grilled me. “I don’t mind ordering anything you want, but I want to make sure you like it. Don’t do it on my account.”

I took a deep breath. This would have been Jack’s and my second Valentine’s Day. Last year at this time I was so excited. It was still early, we’d only been dating two months. Jack surprised me with a warm blanket, a cold bottle of champagne and an easy climb in Central Park to a rock that overlooked the lake. It was a little cold, but totally romantic! This year I thought I’d cook an indoor dinner, but we broke up soon after Christmas. That disaster. Somehow I knew from the start it could never work. A Jewish actress and a born-again Christian comedian. It would have been easier to not have the relationship and to have just sold the movie rights.

Jack and I met at a second staged reading of Eat This just before Christmas in 1992. Eat This still looked like it could happen for Broadway, but the money the producers thought was there was not. In almost two years, there had been four readings with one more to go. My part had been cut to shreds, but I was still a contender so I was happy. Anyway, the second reading, the one where I met Jack, was the best. I say this objectively, even though my part was a lot bigger in that version! I was flying that night, and really up when we all went out after for a drink. My friend, Jane, was dating Philip Moore, an actor in the show, and came to the reading. And Philip invited his stand-up friend, Jack Whitney, whom I’d once seen emcee at The Comic Corner. The four of us got a booth and a round of drinks. Jane and Philip were pretty cozy, and I thought Jack was cute and funny. It was a pretty instant attraction. After they left, we lingered over a glass of Merlot and the rest, as they like to say, was history.

“It comes with dessert,” said Henry. “You’ll have the dessert too?” he asked, bringing me back.

“Yes, she’ll have the dessert,” my mother answered for me. “She needs to put on a little weight. I think you lost some weight. What do you think? Your face looks thin.”

“I think I lost some weight.” It felt easier to agree.

The waiter came over to our table. He was a tall, gangly-looking man with an earring in his left ear. He wore wire glasses and a befuddled expression.

“Three snappers,” Henry told him. “And make them all on the special.”

The waiter smiled pleasantly and looked at me.

“Don’t I know you from The Comic Corner?”

I had no recollection of him whatsoever.

“I took Jack Whitney’s ‘Intro to Stand-Up’ class at the Learning Annex and we went to see him perform. You’re his girlfriend, aren’t you?”

“Well…”

“I wasn’t sure at first it was you. We went again last night and it looked like your hair was lighter, but you were sitting close to the stage with Jack and we were in the back. It’s hard to see at night. Up close, though, I remember you. He was great, wasn’t he? All that new material about all the bad relationship stuff that happens on the holidays, and accepting Santa into your heart.”

I twisted the swizzle stick from my drink.

“Well, let me put your order in. I’m sure you want to get over to the club early for the special Valentine’s Day show.”

I stared at my place setting and took a sip of my Virgin Mary.

“That was unnecessary,” said Millie.

“He obviously found a new one,” said Henry.

“Did you change the message on your machine yet?” my mother asked.

“I’ll do it soon. It’s funny,” I said.

“It’s not funny, Karrie. It’s pathetic. Change it tonight.”

The message played in my ear.

Hi, this is Karrie. Jack and I just broke up so I can’t come to the phone right now. Actually, I can’t even get out of bed. But if you leave your name and number, someday I’ll get back to you.

Beeeeep.

“And after you change your message, set your alarm so you wake up at a decent hour tomorrow,” Millie continued.

I had made the mistake of confessing to my mom that unless I had an audition I’d been sleeping half the day away, waking at 12:59 p.m. in order to make it into the living room by one, just in time to watch my favorite soap, All My Problems.

“Maybe she was just a date, “ I said. “Or it could have been a friend. Who says he has a new girlfriend? Anyway, what’s the difference?”

Silence.

“I spoke with Aunt Cookie,” said Millie. “She said she spoke to her friend, Phyllis, and her son Seth, the chiropractor, is still talking about you from last Passover. I know he’s not exactly your type…”

“No.”

“Just for an evening out,” Henry chimed in. “No one’s saying marriage, but just to get out. There’s no reason for a young girl like yourself to stay home alone staring at the four walls.”

“I’m not staring at anything. Besides, he’s a geek. He’s a nerd. He even liked the Manischewitz wine. No.”

The waiter came by and served the salads. Henry reached for the pepper.

“No salt,” said Millie.

“No salt,” said Henry. “Pepper. I’m just using pepper.”

“He’s not allowed to have salt,” she told me.

“He’s not having salt,” I said.

“I’m having pepper, Millie.”

“See, he’s having pepper, Ma.”

“That’s okay. Pepper he’s allowed to have.”

“I have an audition tomorrow,” I said as the food arrived. The fish stared up at me, alongside the baby red potatoes, the stewed zucchini and the waiter. “For a commercial.”

“What’s it for?” asked the waiter. My new best friend.

“Some fast-food chicken chain. I’m a perky waitress.” I smiled at him to prove my point.

“Well, bon appetit and bon chance,” said the waiter. He winked at me before he walked away.

“This is good,” I said.

“Very good,” said Henry.

“I like mine too,” said Millie.

“Anyway, I have to make it an early night,” I said before I barely started my meal, let alone finished it. “You know, with the audition in the morning.”

“It’s all right,” said Millie. “I’m tired too. I don’t mind an early night myself.”

I watched my mother delicately mash her potatoes. Her pink nail polish shone under the candlelight, and her diamond ring glimmered. She was trying so hard to be nice to me. So was Henry. I was so unhappy about Jack. I just felt so bad.

“No, Ma. No rush. Really.”

“It’s okay,” Millie said through knowing eyes. “We don’t have to get indigestion, but I am tired.”

“I’m tired too,” I said.

I took my fork and mashed the baby red potatoes, pasting them together with some of the snapper. I was tired, I thought. I really, truly was.