Unforgettable, Linda Barrett [books to read to be successful TXT] 📗
- Author: Linda Barrett
- Performer: -
Book online «Unforgettable, Linda Barrett [books to read to be successful TXT] 📗». Author Linda Barrett
“Fair enough,” said Jen. “They have a life, too. And besides, I’m kind of hungry myself. Lunch seems like ages ago.”
On cue, her stomach rumbled. They eyed each other and burst into laughter that seemed to last forever.
“Now I know why it’s called ‘the best medicine,’” said Doug. “You can meet the parental units and then we’ll have a nice dinner. Together. Alone. Don’t even think of joining them.”
“I actually hadn’t, but now that you mention it…”
But her eyes twinkled and her grin teased. He moved toward her and cupped her face with his hands. “Come here,” he whispered, before he leaned closer and captured her mouth with his.
Her response was everything he could wish for. “Ah, Jenny, Jenny…”
She slowly pulled back, her breaths audible. “Ah, Dou-gie, Dougie, you’d better drive.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. And though in this familiar setting, he had to admit that the old insecurities and disappointments had momentarily reared up again, suddenly, it didn’t matter at all anymore what his parents thought or did or said about him.
##
“Well, she’s a pretty one!” said Doug’s father as he opened the door. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
Jen felt her smile fade.
“Dad!”
“Eddie!” came a woman’s voice.
“What? What did I say?”
Clueless. The big man looked truly confused, and Jen didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“For goodness sakes, Ed. Where are your manners?” A tall, trim woman with curly dark hair came forward and offered her hand. “I’m Doug’s mom, Helen. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” said Jen.
The woman turned to her son. “You doing okay?” she asked, giving him a hug.
“Sure.”
“Good.” She patted his shoulder and led them into the living room. Jen sat on one end of the upholstered sofa with Doug next to her. A few prints hung on the walls. “Doug hasn’t brought any friends by since…I don’t know, maybe since high school.”
“I haven’t lived here since high school!” said Doug.
“That’s true enough,” said his mom, a quick smile flashing across her face as she sat on a club chair. “But just in case…I keep your old room clean and ready. Eve’s too.”
Doug’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came forth. He looked stunned.
Jen poked at him. “At a loss for words, playwright?”
“I never know what to expect,” he muttered. Finally, he stopped staring at his mom. “You can finally turn the room into that craft room you always wanted. Or a library. Or a home office. Mom…I’m okay. I’m fine. So, redecorate to your heart’s content.”
Helen glanced at Doug’s father.
“You earning a living?” asked the man, finally sitting down near his wife. “Tell me you’re earning a decent paycheck like your friends here do, and your mother will redecorate. Their folks are always bragging. I know more about their kids than about my own son.”
Doug’s folks are nothing like mine were. Where’s the warmth? The atmosphere is such a downer!
His dad still commanded attention. “Georgie’s working for the gas company, like his dad and me. Making a steady paycheck. And Tommy Belson joined the air force, and that wasn’t an easy thing. He’s climbing the ranks. And who was that little guy, the one who skied like the wind? Well, he’s part of the Mt. Snow operation—assistant director or something big. All good boys.”
“You’re talking about Peter Davis,” said Doug. “The best skier on the mountain. Glad to hear he’s doing something he loves.”
“And making a living,” said Eddie. He glanced at Jen, then back at Doug. “Parents think about these things. Your mother worries about you.” He turned to Helen. “And don’t deny it.”
The woman bit her lip. “Anyone care for some iced tea? Lemonade? I’ve got both in the fridge.” She stood and faced the kitchen.
“We don’t want to detain you,” said Jen, starting to rise. “Doug said you’ve got a dinner date with friends.”
Helen glanced at her watch. “We can postpone for ten minutes. I want to visit with my son.”
Point for Helen.
Jen sat back down.
“Evie told us you’d bunked in with her,” said Doug’s father.
“For a few days, until I found my own place.”
Ed turned to Jen. “My daughter’s an intern at Mass General. Dr. Eve Collins. Won’t have to think twice about her.”
Jen nodded. “I suppose not.”
“She’s happy, Dad. Working hard but loving it.”
The man’s grin lit his face.
“Which is what everyone strives for,” added Jen. “Why work forty hours or more a week at something you hate? Doesn’t make sense to me.”
“You sound like another dreamer,” said Ed, looking from Jen to Doug. “What a pair, thinking money grows on trees.”
She sensed Doug about to rise and tugged him back. Jen leaned toward his father. “Have you ever seen Doug’s plays?”
He looked blank for a moment. “Oh, in school. I think we drove across one time.” He looked at his wife. “Right?”
“The play made me cry.”
“And that’s when I said, no more,” said Ed. “Who wants to see a play that makes my wife cry?”
Jen stood and stared at Doug’s father. “I know the answer to that one,” she said. “Thousands of people do. Every week, several thousand people buy tickets to see The Broken Circle on Broadway. How can you not know that?”
“They know,” said Doug joining her. “I sent them tickets for opening night last year, but they didn’t come.”
“Your mother had a cold and a-a fever,” Eddie protested. “Besides, it’s expensive to stay at a hotel in New York and too far to drive back at night…
“I did see the play,” interrupted Helen quietly.
Her husband swiveled toward her, and she continued. “I took the early bus to Port Authority, went to a matinee, and took the bus back home.” She strolled over to place a hand on Doug’s arm. “I cried even harder, but I loved it.”
Silence descended until Doug said, “You’re the heroine in this drama, Mom, that’s for sure.” Then he put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek.
Jen glanced at Doug’s father. The man looked flummoxed. “I think it’s time we made an exit,” she said to Doug before addressing Helen. “Glad to meet you, Mrs. Collins. I’m also glad you like the theater.”
“Oh, are you a writer like Doug?” asked Helen.
Jen chuckled. “Sorry. In fact, you might say that writing is my least favorite thing.”
“Really? How curious.”
Doug’s dad left his chair and stepped closer. “So, what do you do for a living? Maybe something practical?”
Jen winked at Doug, then faced his dad. “You could say I help people. I really help them a lot, teaching them how to budget. Oh, and I also sing.”
Eddie moved aside. “Figures. Between the two of them, Helen, they probably earn zilch. Nothing. nothing steady. She sounds like a social worker.”
“I didn’t say that, Mr. Collins,” Jen protested. “Life is complicated, and people are looking for all kinds of advice these days. I happen to be good with numbers.” She told no lies, but when she imagined how little support the man had given Doug throughout the years, she chose not to enlighten him further.
He nodded and reached into his back pocket. “Do you need any money, son?”
Back in the car, Jen’s thoughts remained on Doug’s father. “Family dynamics can be tricky,” she said, “not so much black-and-white as shades of gray.
“Were there ‘shades of gray’ in your house?” he challenged.
Her thoughts flew backward. She’d been lucky to have parents who made a fuss about a kindergarten picture, cheered at a baseball game or for a test score—always encouraging, always praising. And sometimes making suggestions.
“Maybe we were too young…” she began.
“You were not too young,” countered Doug. “Neither was Lisa. Teenage years could wreak havoc in a family.”
Jen paused, thinking back carefully. “I wreaked havoc, as you say, only after they were gone. I gave Lisa and Mike a few big headaches.”
“Understandable.”
“Ancient history.” She patted his thigh. “I’m glad you were able to turn down your dad’s offer. I suspect he’s not as bad as he seems.”
“Maybe, maybe not. That was guilt talking. He was trying to make Mom happy. I-I can’t quite process that she snuck down to the city to see the show and never told anyone. Not even me!”
“That’s what mothers do. For their children, anything. As for Eddie, well he knows about her trip now.”
“It shook him up. Therefore, he offered his son, the playwright, money, which he thinks will calm the water.”
But Jen wasn’t sure that was the only reason. “Maybe he loves his son. Maybe he worries about you.”
“Ha!”
“One thing’s for sure,” said Jen. “He may be awkward and blustery, but he loves your mom.”
“If he’d exchange the bluster for a little bit of tenderness, sometimes, and maybe tell her out loud how he feels…she’d be better off.”
Jen shrugged. “That’s her lecture to give, and if she ever gets to a breaking point, she will.”
“Which leads to her turning point.”
“What?”
“’All the world’s a stage…’” quoted Doug. “We all play out our dramas. My parents are no different, living in their one-story ranch house in western Massachusetts. Drama lives in every house on their street, in every home in the world. Joy, despair, grief and hope…there always has to be hope…and then decisions are made. A path is chosen or a new idea brings an aha moment and changes a person inside.”
With those words, Jen glimpsed a window into Doug’s soul. “My God. That’s how you write your plays! You see these things. You capture these events, these emotions. And you can make others feel them.”
Silence was his only answer for a moment.
“Yeah, I guess I do,” he finally replied. “But I’m not only an observer. I’ve lived through the highs and lows myself. Here’s how I look at it: everyone searches for a peaceful, vanilla life, but in the end, they find that life is mint chocolate chip, and rocky road. Vanilla is an unreliable goal.”
“Oh-h-h….” Jen clutched her stomach at her aha moment. “You’re right,” she whispered. “Vanilla is the safer road. I’ve planned for it, fought for it. But then something happens, and—and…”
“You’re hijacked. Staring at new choices on a rocky road.”
Although their conversation lingered, Jen was on familiar turf the next morning and could fall into her comfortable role. The only choices she’d be making were financial ones with her clients. She unlocked her computer and began scrolling, but stopped at the company-wide announcement of Matthew’s promotion and move to Kentucky. His last day at headquarters was the upcoming Friday.
Her heart sank for a moment, but she tried to rally. No vanilla here. She’d consider it a pistachio event—for them all. Hopefully a wonderful turning point for Matt. But what if the offer had been hers? What if she’d turned it down because she wanted the safer road? What if that safer choice ultimately destroyed her career?
She refocused on the screen. Ridiculous thoughts. If she kept it up, she’d soon be competing with Doug in the drama department.
##
Workwise, Doug shouldn’t have taken time off to go with Jen to Tanglewood. On Monday night, he was buried in scripts. Revisions to The Sanctuary came first. Amazing how actors, by bringing the story to life, and by reacting to the writing, could clearly show him where adjustments were needed, where he could fix a phrase that may have seemed good on paper, but when spoken…not so much. He grabbed the chance to revise and make changes for the better.
He glanced at the clock. After ten. Shoot, he was late with
Comments (0)