Friday, August 28, 2009

The End is Always The Beginning

"Do you want some more chicken?" my friend asks as she heads back to the barbecue to turn off the propane.

"No, I'm stuffed." I tell her and readjust myself in my seat. I hate it when I eat too much.

"Are you sure?" she taunts, but I gesture that I'm about to explode, and so she simply places the leftover chicken on a dish.

"So, are you all clear with the...you know..." asks another friend, sitting across from me, as she wipes some barbecue sauce from her daughter's mouth.

"Any more aneurysms?" I fill in for her. "Uh...should be." I say, and cross my fingers. The survival rate from the type of hemorrhaging I had is less than 1%. I shouldn't be here...except, I am. So, from here on in, I'm going to embrace this second chance and not live in the past. I'm tired of all my regrets having so much power over me; so that's where they can stay -- in the past; where I won't be.

Life, is a gift.

"Excuse yourself!" my friend scolds her three year old who burps loudly and then laughs at our startled reaction.

I miss the unencumbered freedom of being a child sometimes.

"So, seeing anyone?" asks my friend, as she sits back down at the table and pours out some more wine for the three of us.

"No one special," I say and think about all the suitors who have popped out of the bushes as of late. I must be giving off some sort of exhilarating vibe that they're attracted to. It is, more or less, raining men.

Losing 20 pounds probably didn't hurt either...

"So, tell us!" they say in unison like school girls. They're both married, and so, I guess I'm earning my lunch by having them live vicariously through my dating life.

"Well, there's not much to tell. I mean, it's just early days. Coffees here, and the odd drinks on a patio there. I'm not really dropping anchor with anyone until I see that they are willing to rise to the occasion, and besides; I don't know any of them well enough to drift off into happily ever after land." I motion for my friend to fill up my wine glass again.

"That's good. Keep it light. Date as long as you can. Trust me -- I wish I could go back to those days sometimes. Don't get me wrong, I love --"

She's interrupted by my phone ringing.

I ignore it, and take another sip of wine.

"Aren't you going to get it?" asks my friend as she motions for her daughter to go and play in her sandbox.

"Uh, no." I say. Why? I'm having a nice time with my friends. I have voicemail...

"Maybe it's Prince Charming!" says the other one and laughs, while she wipes the crumbs up from around our friend's daughter's plate.

"I doubt it." I say.

A moment later, my phone beeps to let me know that there is voicemail.

"Don't you want to check it?" they basically say in unison.

I don't ~ but I do, just to appease them. I roll my eyes as I listen to voicemail prompts before collecting my message.

"You have WUN! UN-HERD message," says the lady in my phone.

BEEEEP

"Hi, Karen. This is Alex calling from Warner Brother's. We've read your script, titled "Human Frailty" and we'd like to set up a meeting for you to come down here and talk with us about it. Have your agent give us a call to set it up. I can be reached at..."

I slowly lower the phone.

"What is it?" says my friend. She's concerned. The shock on my face must have scared her.

"It's good." I say and collect my thoughts. I concentrate on pressing "9" on the phone to save the message.

Must not accidentally press "7" and erase the message...

"A date?" says the other as she picks at the leftover potato salad.

"It's Warner Brothers," I say -- but then I start to get really excited, "They want me to come down to LA to talk about my script!"

"That's great!" they say in unison, and both stand to walk over and give me a hug.

"What's so great, mummy?" asks our friend's daughter from the sidelines. She looks up from playing in her sandbox.

"Auntie Karen is going to be very famous!" answers my friend as she finishes hugging me.

"Famous like Diego?" says the three year old.

I laugh.

"Bigger!" I say and we each raise our wine glasses to toast the good news.

And the indigo and pink light grows as it swirls between all of us, the three year old, and the birds in the trees; before turning around the corner and traveling towards the neighbor's houses.






**********************************THE END*******************************






















"Mia, iz dat it? Der iz no more stories fer da people?" Consuela sulks, "Becuz I have da storiez dat I wanna tell da people when we iz in da LA!"

She's becoming vehement.

"Relax," I tell her "this is just for now, OK?" I say and rub her back. I readjust her scrunchie because her hair is coming loose.

"Becuz, da people I iz sink dey wanna go wis us to der LA, no?" says Consuela. She fidgets while I fix her hair.

"We'll see," I tell her. She crosses her pudgy little arms in defiance, and so I raise my eyebrows and stare her down -- to remind her who the boss is. A moment later she uncrosses her arms and gives me a big fake smile as a peace offering.

"I iz just sink itz stoopid if we iz not tell da people when we iz in da LA," she says.

"Consuela," I snipe at her, "For now -- let's just focus on one thing at a time, OK?"

She's starting to get on my nerves.

Why the hell did I promise to bring her to LA with me?

"And right now, I need YOU to help ME with packing." I snap, "So friggen get to it!"

She glares at me for a moment, before grabbing her Swiffer and storming out of the room; "Yer iz can't be means to me, Mia, I iz won't let you!!" she wails.

I laugh.

"For now, can you please stop fighting with me and help me?" I yell to her.

She pops her head around the corner, "And da people?" she says.

"Fine, we'll bring the people to LA. Now...will you help me pack?"

Why is everything such a friggen big ordeal with her?

"OK!" she says and gives me a big smile. This time it's real.

"I love you, Mia." she says and then turns around the corner.

"Ditto," I say back; but I'm not sure she heard me. I look around the room and take it all in. The months of crying. The weeks of angst. Now, I'm going to miss this apartment. Because, after all, this is where it all started.

From here on in, nothing will ever be the same.

And that, of course, is a good thing.
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