The Hole in the Middle

Chapter 20: SATURDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2011

The alarm goes off at seven on Saturday morning. With my eyes still closed, I try to remember a time when Saturday morning meant waking up on your own, just because your body had enough sleep – not because the kids wanted you to turn on the television, and not because you had to go and oversee a crew shooting a ridiculously sentimental holiday ad airing too late in the season to make much of a difference to anyone. I try, but I can’t really remember what it felt like, only that there was a time in my life when it happened routinely. I roll over and reach for Jesse, but his side of the bed is cool and empty. In the distance, I hear glasses clinking and the dishwasher door slamming shut. There’s no help for it; I’m going to have to intervene before he breaks every glass in the house. I slide out of bed, wrap myself in a bathrobe and pad downstairs.

“You’re up early,” I say.

“I didn’t get much sleep,” he says.

I pour a cup of coffee and swish a mouthful around to wash out the ashy aftertaste of my cigarette hangover, and then go over to the dishwasher and start removing the wineglasses that Jesse has just loaded. “I don’t want the stems to snap,” I say. Jesse watches me without speaking. I fill the sink. “Do you want to dry?” I ask.

“Not particularly,” he says.

“Alright,” I say, bracing myself. “Do you want to tell me why you’re so cranky this morning?”

“I think you misunderstand,” says Jesse. “I’m not cranky. I’m completely and totally pissed off. And you can probably guess why. I’ll give you a hint. It has to do with the fact that you invited Will f*cking Shannon into my house and then snuck off with him in the middle of dinner.”

I drop glasses into the water, watching the bowls fill and sink to the bottom. I take a couple of calming breaths. “There was no sneaking,” I say reasonably. “He offered me a job. He wanted to discuss it privately.”

“A job doing what, exactly?”

“Running the Baxter Foundation. He and Lil want me to replace her.”

“And why didn’t Lil ask you herself?”

“I don’t know,” I say, defensively. “Maybe she thought I’d be more likely to say yes to Will.”

“It’s hard to imagine why she would think that, what with you believing he walks on water and all.”

“Jesus, Jesse, lay off. He’s an old friend. We were catching up.”

“And why is this the first time I’m hearing about this so-called job offer?”

“Are you seriously suggesting that I’m lying about the job?” My voice is getting higher and tighter with each volley. “I might well have mentioned it last night, but it was difficult to get your attention.”

“My attention? You were the one in the backyard, smoking and gazing into Will’s eyes.”

“I don’t know what you thought you saw,” I say, “But – ”

“I know exactly what I saw. And so would anyone else paying the slightest bit of attention. Is he your backup plan in case I don’t work out? Because you might want to bear in mind that he didn’t want you the first time around.”

“Stop it before you say something you regret,” I say.

“You’re the expert on regrets around here,” he says.

“What the f*ck is that supposed to mean?”

“Give me some credit. Do you really think I’m that oblivious?”

“I think you’re oblivious to everyone except Anya these days.”

Jesse slams a hand down on the counter. “You have a lot of nerve turning this around on me. What does Anya have to do with anything?”

“She was snuggled up to you all night at the table,” I say, outraged at his denial. “She kept touching you. You acted like she was the only person there. Even Zoe noticed it.”

“Zoe should mind her own f*cking business for once,” says Jesse.

“Don’t you start on Zoe.”

“For Christ’s sake, Sophie, I’m not interested in Anya. We were talking about business.”

“And what business was that? How incredible she looks?”

Jesse’s face is white. “No, actually. I needed to talk to her about how our last-chance investor failed to get the loan he needed and about how our company is going to go under as a result. Good news for you. You always hated Anya and now you won’t have to deal with her anymore. Happy?”

“Of course I’m not happy!”

“Well, there’s a big f*cking surprise. You’ve been miserable for months, and here’s a news flash – it’s not anything that Will Shannon is going to fix for you. He never sticks around for the hard stuff, and you are incredibly f*cking hard to live with these days.

I feel as though I can barely breathe, my chest is so tight. “F*ck you, too, Jesse,” I whisper.

In the airless silence that follows, I hear laughter as the front door opens.

Jamie and Scotty race into the kitchen and twine themselves around my legs. “Hug, Mommy,” they cry and I bend down and wrap them in my arms, hiding my face from Jesse.

“I’ve got to go up and shower, Jesse,” I say, my voice shaky. “I’m due at the Baxter in an hour for the shoot.”

“How long are you going to be gone?” He doesn’t meet my eye.

“It could go all day,” I say, “But it’s unlikely. I think I’ll be back mid-afternoon. The sitter will be here at six.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s Lil’s party. I promised her we’d both be there.”

“Fantastic,” says Jesse. “Another chance to catch up with my old friend Will. That sounds wonderful. Can’t wait.”



My hands clutch the steering wheel to keep them from shaking as I drive to the office, rehearsing our argument over and over in my mind. Jesse and I rarely fight, and this one has been apocalyptic by our standards. By the time I arrive at the office, I’m in a complete state. And, as luck would have it, Nigel is clocking some overtime by working the germ desk on Saturday morning. His eyes light up as he sees me, but I find, suddenly, that I’ve lost my will to fight. He pulls out his clipboard.

“You don’t need to do that,” I say. “I’ve had a sinus infection for the past week. I’ve had a fever, but I’m not contagious. I’m taking antibiotics. Here’s a note from my doctor.” I rummage around in my purse and produce the note from Beverley. “Truce?”

Nigel scrutinizes the document as if contained paragraphs instead of ten words. He looks up at me with a sour expression. “It’s not easy doing this job, you know.”

“I appreciate that,” I say. “I certainly wouldn’t want to do it.” Nigel looks suspicious. “I think what you do is really important,” I add hastily, “And I’m sorry if I’ve been rude to you. It’s been a stressful time at work, but that’s not an excuse.”

Nigel looks surprised and mildly disappointed. He obviously has a fight or two left in him, but I’m no longer a worthy opponent. “You can go in,” he says.

I make a mental note to tell Jenny that I’ve circumvented Nigel’s grievance. At least I can claim one achievement today. I make my way to the conference room on the second floor, which has been transformed into a tiny eco-system, populated with young people dressed in black and wearing headsets. I watch them for a few minutes while I get my bearings, observing them buzz back and forth from the perimeter of the room to a point in the center, where the maestro is holding court. Claudio is in a slim white suit today, with snakeskin loafers and aviator glasses. It gladdens my heart to see that he’s prepared to treat my holiday ad with all the seriousness of an Oscar-contending Hollywood production.

“Sophie!” Claudio swans over, arms outstretched, and kisses me on both cheeks.

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this, Claudio,” I say, completely sincerely. “We would have been sunk without you.”

“True,” he says. “But the Baxter holds a special place in my heart. I am at her service.” He hooks an arm through my elbow and pulls me over to the corner, waving off a couple of black-clad assistants. “I have to ask you,” he says in a low voice, “Is something wrong with Geoff? He seems upset with me. Did I offend him? I like to tease him, you know, but it’s all in fun. It’s just too delicious to poke the straight boys with sticks. But I have been known to go too far. Can you talk to him?”

I scan the room for Geoff. The sight of him makes me uncomfortable and anxious; it reminds me of the morning after an ill-advised pick-up at the pub. Prince Charming always looks like a frog when the beer goggles come off, as Zoe used to say. But the feeling seems misplaced and more than a little unfair here: I’m suffering for my sins without the preceding pleasure of any transgression. Geoff knows I’m here, which is evident from the fact that he hasn’t so much as glanced in my direction. He’s not going to make this easy for me. “It’s not you, Claudio.” I say. “Geoff had a bad week. I think the best thing would be to go a bit easy on him today. Let’s just give him some space, OK? I don’t think it would help for me to speak to him.”

“Ah,” says Claudio, “That poor man. I always suspected that he played for your team, your team specifically I mean. I take it that things were said?”

“It’s a little awkward,” I say.

“It’s not your fault,” says Claudio. “Better out than in and all that. He’ll get over it.” He turns and points to one of the assistants hovering a discreet distance away. “Kara, can you fill Sophie in on the shoot schedule? I’m going to get started with the doctor. Showtime, people!”

Kara shows me her clipboard. “We have a three hour shooting schedule,” she says. “We’re doing the first hour in here for the interviews with Dr. Waldron and the patient. We’re working from a basic script but we’re still going to use an interviewer to make the conversation look as natural as possible. We’ll edit out the interviewer and select the best clips in the studio. Geoff is doing the interviews, since he’s done the script prep. Then we’re spending a couple of hours up on the oncology ward. We’ve got permission from a couple of families to film them interacting with Dr. Waldron and then we’re going into the recreation room for some shots of the kids playing. We’ve got a couple of people up there explaining the process and timing to the parents and handing out waiver forms.”

“You guys are amazing,” I say. “What’s the timeline for production?”

“It depends a bit on the quality of the interviews, but Claudio’s got the editing team booked in for the rest of today and tomorrow. He says we’ll have it to you on Monday.”

“Quiet, please!” Claudio commands.

“Why don’t you wait in the green room?” says Kara, as she escorts me out.

The green room is an office down the hall, which is empty except for one teenage girl sitting at the desk, typing on a laptop. She’s very pale and tall, with lively brown eyes and a red bandana covering her head.

“You must be Taylor,” I say. “I’m Sophie. Thanks so much for agreeing to help us out with the shoot.”

“That’s OK,” she says. “Do you work here?”

“Yes. I’m the Director of Communications for the hospital, so my office is kind of in charge of the shoot. They’re just starting with Dr. Waldron now, so they’ll probably call you in a half hour or so.”

“Director of Communications,” she says. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m going to take some notes.”

“OK.”

“What does a Director of Communications do?”

“Can I ask you a question first? Why are you taking notes?”

“I’m doing some research on different careers and what people like about them.”

“For a school project?” I ask.

“Not exactly,” says Taylor, “but it could be, I guess, if that makes a difference to you.”

“No,” I say. “I was just making conversation. I work with a group of people to produce materials that tell the outside world what the Baxter is all about. Those materials include our website, annual reports to people who give us money, public statements about our research that we hope will get picked up by the media, and then various projects like the one we’re doing today that are designed to encourage people in the community to support us financially. And then I do a bunch of other things that aren’t really part of my job at all, like organizing fundraising events and sitting on committees and things like that.”

“Do you like it?”

“Sometimes,” I say. “I like working with other people who are good at what they do – and the Baxter is full of people like that, which is unusual. I like being part of something that matters in a larger way in the world. Most people aren’t like Dr. Waldron. We don’t save lives at work. But it’s nice to feel that your work makes it easier for people like Dr. Waldron to save lives, if you follow me.”

“So why do you only like it sometimes?” Taylor asks.

“I’ve been doing it for a while,” I say. “Some days I think I’d like to do something new. And sometimes I worry that I spend too much time on my work and not enough with my kids. Or I worry that when I’m with them, they aren’t getting me at my best.” Taylor doesn’t say anything but she isn’t taking notes. It’s a bad sign. I try for a better answer.

“Have you heard of work-life balance?” I ask her.

“Sure,” she says. “Do you have it?”

“I don’t think anyone has it. I don’t think it exists.” Taylor starts typing as I warm to my subject. “In lots of ways we’re lucky,” I say. “Women don’t have to choose between having a family and having a career. We can have it all, right? That’s the promise. But the reality? It’s hard, every single day. So you have to want it. And when I have a bad day at work, I wonder if I want it badly enough.” I am very grateful that there is no one else in the room to hear me unburden myself on a fifteen-year-old cancer survivor. It feels like yet another new low.

“So what about you?” I ask. “What’s the reason for your research project?”

“For years, people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up,” she says. “And then I got cancer. I knew it was serious when I realized that it had been months since anyone had asked me that question. But now I’m supposed to be cured so maybe people will start asking me again. And I wanted to have a good answer this time.

“What’s your answer?”

She smiles. “I’m still doing my research, but I think I want to be a kindergarten teacher.”

“Really?” I say. “I mean, that’s a great job, but…”

“But I’m so bright that I could do anything I want?”

“Yes.”

“I bet you thought I’d want to be a doctor so that I could help people the way I’ve been helped?”

“No,” I say, although this is exactly what I was thinking.

“I’ve spent the last two years in hospitals. I don’t want to work in one. But I’ve been doing an art program with the kids in the oncology ward every week when I’m not too sick to do it, and I like being around them. Also you get the summers off.”

“You can always have kids,” I say, and then immediately regret it as soon as my brain catches up with my mouth.

But Taylor is made of tough stuff. “Probably not,” she says. “I’ve had a lot of chemo.”

Kara appears in the doorway. “You’re up, Taylor,” she says.

“Do you mind if I come and watch you?” I ask.

“That would be great,” she says. “You can tell me how my hair looks.” She grins. “That was a joke.”

Back on the set, Claudio is fluttering around Carolyn, who looks embarrassed and delighted at the same time. “Brilliant!” he effuses, “Spectacular! You should get an agent. Your bone structure is sublime.”

“Claudio, this is Taylor,” I say.

“You aren’t going to wear that bandana, are you?” Claudio wrinkles his nose.

“No, I’m going commando,” she says. “But you probably have to do something about the shine.”

“Omar!” shouts Claudio, and Omar scuttles over with his makeup cart and settles Taylor under the lights.

“The shoot’s going well so far?”

“Couldn’t be better,” says Claudio. “That doctor gave us a dozen perfect clips. No tics, no spitting, no ums – she’ll be a dream to edit. And Geoff is a genius. Here he comes now.”

“Hi there,” I say. “Claudio was just singing your praises.”

Geoff can’t meet my eye. “Thanks,” he says.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done to make this happen,” I say. “I know it hasn’t been easy.” And I’m saved from having to say anything else, as Claudio calls for quiet and Geoff takes his seat facing Taylor.

It’s strangely restful watching the shoot. Everything is out of my hands now, and still unfolding as it should. And Claudio is right; Geoff is terrific. It’s painful in a way to watch him work. I can see him more clearly today, now that I know our working relationship is coming to an end, and it’s obvious that he’s too experienced to be my right-hand man any longer. It’s probably been true for a while now, but neither of us wanted to admit it.

The interview wraps up, and Claudio issues orders to the crew for the second stage of the shoot on the ward. Taylor comes over to say goodbye.

“You were great,” I say. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too,” she says. “Thanks for being so honest.”

I wince a little, feeling some residual shame at my over-sharing. “No problem,” I say.

Taylor shakes my hand. “I appreciated it, honestly,” she says. “You’d be surprised how often adults lie to kids.”

“Don’t take it personally,” I say. “They lie to themselves all the time too.”