“Get down,” she’d said. “Everyone’s going to think you’re drunk.”
“I may as well be,” he said, “because I’m about to get drunk. And time is an illusion.”
“You’re a delusion. We can’t write four scripts before Christmas.”
Seth didn’t stop dancing. He pumped his chin and did a little lasso move over his head. “We’ve got till the twenty-seventh. That’s ten whole days.”
“Ten days during which I’ll be in Omaha, Nebraska, celebrating Christmas.”
“Fuck Omaha. Christmas came early.”
“Stop dancing, Seth. Talk to me.”
He’d stopped dancing and frowned at her. “Are you hearing me? Maher Jafari wants our show. Our show, remember? The one we were put on this earth to write?”
“Do you think anybody actually gets put on earth to write TV comedy?”
“Yes,” Seth said. “Us.”
He’d been irrepressible ever since—even when Georgie was arguing with him, even when she was ignoring him. Seth wouldn’t stop smiling. He wouldn’t stop humming, which should probably annoy her. But Georgie was used to that, too.
She looked back up at him now to ask about a Jeff’d Up deadline. . . .
And ended up just looking at him.
He was grinning to himself and typing an e-mail with his index fingers, just to be silly. His eyebrows were dancing.
She sighed.
They were supposed to end up together, Seth and Georgie.
Well, technically, they had ended up together. They’d talked every day since that first day they met.
But they were supposed to end up together-together. Everyone thought it would happen—Georgie had thought it would happen.
Just as soon as Seth exhausted his other possibilities, as soon as he worked through his queue of admirers. He hadn’t been in any hurry, and Georgie didn’t have a say in the matter. She’d taken a number. She was waiting patiently.
And then, one day, she wasn’t.
After Seth headed down to the writers’ room, Georgie decided to try calling Neal again.
He picked up after three rings. “Hello?”
No. It wasn’t Neal. “Alice? Is that you?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Mommy.”
“I know. Your song played when the phone rang.”
“What’s my song?”
Alice started singing “Good Day Sunshine.”
Georgie bit her lip. “That’s my song?”
“Yep.”
“That’s a good song.”
“Yep.”
“Hey,” Georgie said, “where’s Daddy?”
“Outside.”
“Outside?”
“He’s shoveling the snow,” Alice said. “There’s snow here. We’re gonna have a white Christmas.”
“That’s lucky. Did you have a good plane trip?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What was the best part? . . . Alice?” The girls liked answering the phone—and they loved calling people—but they always lost interest once they were on the line. “Alice. Are you watching TV?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Pause it and talk to Mommy.”
“I can’t. Grandma doesn’t have pause.”
“Then turn it off for a minute.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Okay, just . . .” Georgie tried not to sound irritated. “I really miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“I love you guys . . . Alice?”
“Yeah?”
“Let me talk to Noomi.”
There was some shuffling, then a thump like somebody had dropped the phone—then finally, “Meow?”
“Noomi? It’s Mommy.”
“Meow.”
“Meow. What are you doing?”
“We’re watching Chip ’n’ Dale.”
“Was Grandma happy to see you?”
“She said we could watch Chip ’n’ Dale.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“You’re the best mommy in the world!”
“Thanks. Hey, Noomi, tell Daddy I called. Okay?”
“Meow.”
“Meow. Tell Daddy, okay?”
“Meow!”
“Meow.” Georgie ended the call, then fidgeted with her phone for a minute, flipping through a few photos of the girls. She hated talking to them on the phone; it made them feel farther away. And it made her feel helpless. Like, even if she heard something bad happening, there’d be nothing she could do to stop it. One time Georgie had called home from the freeway, and all she could do was listen while Alice dropped the phone in her cereal bowl, then tried to decide whether to pick it up.
Plus . . . the girls’ voices were higher on the phone. They sounded younger, and Georgie could hear their every breath. It just always made her realize that she was missing them. Actually missing them. That they kept on growing and changing when she wasn’t there.
If Georgie didn’t talk to her kids all day, it was easier to pretend like their whole world froze in place while she was at work.
She called them every day. Usually twice.