The theme music for the show played, and I found myself transfixed by the intro. One by one, the main “characters” filled the outsized flat screen that had been rented for the occasion. First our faces appeared, expertly made-up, followed by our first names in sleek white lettering. Avery and Tova huddled together, whispering to each other about what was happening on the screen. Avery did lean across Tova to nudge me when my name and face appeared during the opening sequence, but after a few minutes in, I knew that my viewing pleasure was going to be a solitary one.
In Vic and Margot terminology, the “story arc” of the first episode centered on how I came to join the crew at Thrill. I saw Avery as he’d looked when he approached Chet with the idea of bringing me on board. Unknown to me at the time, cameras had rolled when Avery had called me in New York. They caught every part of his reaction and my voice on speakerphone as I’d opened the rhubarb tart, the label maker, the boxes. It all seemed like a lifetime ago. Watching it unfold in front of me, seeing the smug triumph on Avery’s face when I said yes, I felt the joy of that moment whittle down to a feeling I recognized as regret.
Tova squealed after seeing her first interview, educing an appreciative round of laughter and applause from the other viewers in the room. When she and I met for the first time, some hidden camera had captured the look on my face, one of surprise and maybe a smidge of annoyance.
“But you grew to love her, didn’t you, Char?” Macintosh Rowe asked loudly, and the room again rumbled with laughter. Tova hid her face in Avery’s shoulder in mock embarrassment.
I watched the rest of the episode, marveling that all the people around me, and all the people sitting at home in front of their TVs, were witnessing scenes from my life. Edited scenes, for sure. Pretty-haired scenes with sweeping sound effects. Scenes where I was courted, wooed, and brought to a new place without realizing the whole thing would be replayed in front of millions. Scenes that represented a part of me, certainly. But scenes. Chapters. A few sentences here and there. I stole a glance at the empty chair, wishing someone who knew the whole story could sit here with me and remind me who I really was.
Full lights came on again, and the room erupted in cheering and applause. I smiled and kept smiling when Avery stood and pulled me to my feet beside him. Tova looked up at us, grinning and clapping. TiffanTosh, looking impossibly elegant as they draped limbs around each other, clapped appreciatively.
Some idiot at the back of the room started chanting for a speech, and the idea took hold. Avery looked at me with bug-eyes, and I knew he was not going to be the one to address the crowd, at least not without another stiff drink and a tranquilizer.
I turned my face toward the group, feeling my cheek muscles twinge after so much smiling.
“Thank you,” I said. “Avery has nominated me to talk, as he’s suffering from a bit of stage fright these days. Did anyone catch us on Rise and Shine, America last week?”
Avery laughed and made a silencing motion with his hand. “Quarantined,” he said and was rewarded with hearty laughter.
“Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone,” I said. “It’s great to have you all here to celebrate with us.” The empty chair was staring me down, so I lifted my gaze to where Margot stood in the back of the room. Her somber expression had a way of jolting me back into the importance of this situation. “Many of you know what it feels like to work hard and finally get to the place you’ve devoted so much time and so much of yourself to.”
My throat tightened. I took a deep breath and smiled. “I’ve been working in kitchens for a long time. Some of them were large and impressive and intimidating.” I remembered the feeling of despair when I’d arrived at L’Ombre and thought I’d never get the hang of how to roll out a single pastry much less please Felix and Alain. “And some of those kitchens were out-dated, cramped, and crawling with the sturdiest of all creatures, the Manhattan cockroach.”
I saw a few nods of recognition. Margot remained immovable, focused on me.
“And all this time I’ve been working toward achieving a view like this, a view from the top of a long, hard climb.”
I paused. My cheeks trembled with the effort of keeping the smile in place. I looked at the expectant faces gazing my way and realized I’d stopped talking for too long. Margot made a sign for me to wrap it up.
“So now I have my view,” I said. Macintosh cleared his throat. I looked down but couldn’t seem to focus on what he was trying to tell me.
“Char,” Avery whispered. I turned to him, startled when I realized I was crying. “Are those happy tears, Charlie?”
I shook my head, tears falling freely now. I wiped one cheek with the back of my hand and saw streaks of mascara smeared on my fingers. Looking across the crowd, I felt utterly, completely, irrepressibly alone. My gaze stopped on Margot, who was making no attempt to hide her disappointment.
“What does a girl do,” I said, the words choking me, “when she doesn’t like the view?”
The question hung in the air—even the music of wine glasses and china stilled for a moment. I picked up my clutch, heavy with the business cards of people who now watched me with wide eyes as I walked out the door.
It took me two blocks to realize I’d left my shoes behind.
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