“Oh,” he said, looking at Celia, noticing the pan. Luisa was washing dishes in the sink. “I was coming in to make bacon and eggs.”
“I’ve got it,” Celia said. “A nice warm bowl of oatmeal for everybody. There’s enough for you, too, if you’re hungry.”
Harry looked at me, unsure what to do. I looked at him, equally uncertain.
Celia just kept stirring. And then she grabbed three bowls and set them down. She put the pot in the sink for Luisa to wash.
It occurred to me then how odd this system was. Harry and I paid Luisa’s salary, but Harry didn’t even live here. Celia and John paid the mortgage on the home Harry lived in.
Harry sat down and grabbed the spoon in front of him. He and I dug into our oatmeal at the same time. When Celia’s back was to us, we looked at each other and grimaced. Harry mouthed something to me, and even though I could barely read his lips, I knew what he was saying, because it was exactly what I was thinking.
So bland.
Celia turned back to us and offered us some raisins. We both took her up on it. And then the three of us sat in the kitchen, eating our oatmeal quietly, all aware that Celia had staked her claim. I was hers. She would make my breakfast. Harry was a visitor.
Connor started crying, so Harry took her and changed her. Luisa went downstairs to grab the laundry. And when we were alone, Celia said, “Max Girard is doing a movie called Three A.M. for Paramount. It’s supposed to be a real art-house piece, and I think you should do it.”
I had kept in touch with Max, on and off, since he directed me in Boute-en-Train. I never forgot that it was with him that I was able to catapult my name to the top again. But I knew Celia couldn’t stand him. He was too overt in his interest in me, too salacious about it. Celia used to jokingly call him Pepé Le Pew. “You think I should do a movie with Max?”
Celia nodded. “They offered it to me, but it makes more sense for you. Regardless of the fact that I think he’s a Neanderthal, I can recognize that the man makes good movies. And this role is exactly your thing.”
“What do you mean?”
Celia got up and took my bowl with hers. She rinsed them both in the sink and then turned back to me, leaning against it. “It’s a sexy part. They need a real bombshell.”
I shook my head. “I’m someone’s mother now. The whole world knows it.”
Celia shook her head. “That’s exactly why you have to do it.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a sexual woman, Evelyn. You’re sensual, and you’re beautiful, and you’re desirable. Don’t let them take that away from you. Don’t let them desexualize you. Don’t let your career be on their terms. What do you want to do? You want to play a mom in every role you take from now on? You want to play only nuns and teachers?”
“No,” I said. “Of course not. I want to play everything.”
“So play everything,” she said. “Be bold. Do what no one expects you to do.”
“People will say it’s unbecoming.”
“The Evelyn I love doesn’t care about that.”
I closed my eyes and listened to her, nodding. She wanted me to do it for me. I really believe that. She knew I wouldn’t be happy being limited, being relegated. She knew I wanted to continue to make people talk, to tantalize, to surprise. But the part she wasn’t mentioning, the part I’m not even sure she truly understood, was that she also wanted me to do it because she didn’t want me to change.
She wanted to be with a bombshell.
It’s always been fascinating to me how things can be simultaneously true and false, how people can be good and bad all in one, how someone can love you in a way that is beautifully selfless while serving themselves ruthlessly.
It is why I loved Celia. She was a very complicated woman who always kept me guessing. And here she had surprised me one more time.
She had said, Go, have a baby. But she had meant to add, Just don’t act like a mother.
Fortunately and unfortunately for her, I had absolutely no intention of being told what to do or of being manipulated into a single thing.
So I read the script, and I took a few days and thought about it. I asked Harry what he thought. And then I woke up one morning and thought, I want the part. I want it because I want to show I’m still my own woman.
I called Max Girard and told him I was interested if he was interested. And he was.
“But I’m surprised you want to do this,” Max said. “You are one hundred percent sure?”
“Is there nudity?” I asked. “I’m OK with the idea. Really. I look fantastic, Max. It’s not a problem.” I did not look fantastic, nor did I feel fantastic. It was a problem. But it was a solvable problem, and solvable problems aren’t really problems, are they?
“No,” Max said, laughing. “Evelyn, you could be ninety-seven years old, and the whole world would line up to see your chest.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“Don,” he said.
“Don who?”
“Your part,” he said. “The whole movie. All of it.”
“What?”
“You’re playing opposite Don Adler.”
WHY DID YOU AGREE TO do it?” I ask her. “Why not say you wanted him cut from the film?”
“Well, first of all, you don’t go throwing your weight around unless you’re sure you’ll win,” Evelyn says. “And I was only about eighty percent sure that if I pitched a fit, Max would fire him. And second of all, it seemed mildly cruel, to be honest. Don was not doing well. He hadn’t had a hit in years, and most younger moviegoers didn’t know who he was. He was divorced from Ruby, hadn’t remarried, and the rumor was that his drinking had gotten out of control.”
“So you felt bad for him? Your abuser?”
“Relationships are complex,” Evelyn says. “People are messy, and love can be ugly. I’m inclined to always err on the side of compassion.”
“You’re saying you had compassion for what he was going through?”
“I’m saying you should have a little compassion for how complicated it must have been for me.”
Cut down to size, I find myself staring at the floor, unable to look at her. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I haven’t been in that situation before, and I was . . . I don’t know what I was thinking making any sort of judgment. I apologize.”
Evelyn smiles gently, accepting my apology. “I can’t speak for all people who have been hit by someone they love, but what I can tell you is that forgiveness is different from absolution. Don was no longer a threat to me. I was not scared of him. I felt powerful and free. So I told Max I’d meet with him. Celia was supportive but also hesitant once she learned Don had been cast. Harry, while cautious, trusted my ability to handle the situation. So my representatives called Don’s people, and we set a time and place for the next time I was in L.A. I had suggested the bar at the Beverly Hills Hotel, but Don’s team changed it at the last minute to Canter’s Deli. That’s how I ended up seeing my ex-husband for the first time in more than fifteen years over a pair of Reubens.”