Maybe the Moon

alive.”
    This got a laugh, because it sounded like a joke, which I guess it was, but it was also the truth. I lose track of friends sometimes, and they get sick and die, and I don’t find out until months later, often in the most casual way, at a party, say, or standing in line for Truth or Dare . And I say “How awful” and pass the word on towhoever else might’ve known the guy and cross him out of my address book. I’ve done it so often now, it’s become shockingly routine, just another domestic ritual. I didn’t spell this out for Callum, but I wondered if he knew what I meant. I wanted him to know that I knew what the world was like now, that he could talk to me about anything.
    “How are your folks?” I asked.
    “Fine. Pretty much the same.”
    “Any other…people in your life?”
    He grinned like an errant schoolboy. “Am I married, you mean?”
    “Whatever.”
    He held up a ringless hand. “See.”
    I smiled at him. “It doesn’t have to be official.”
    He shrugged. “A few girlfriends.”
    “A few ?”
    He laughed.
    “Here?”
    “What?”
    “The girlfriends.”
    “No. Back there.”
    “Maine?”
    “Yeah.”
    “That can’t be any fun.”
    He shrugged again. “I haven’t been here that long. How is your mother?”
    I took note of this abrupt change of subject, then told him my mother died three years ago.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Thanks.”
    For the life of me, I couldn’t think of a graceful way to bring a Griffith Park pickup into this conversation, so I asked him what he’d done since he’d been here.
    “Not much,” he said ruefully. “A lot of lunches.”
    I nodded knowingly, as if I, too, had borne—and borne recently—the terrible burden of being overlunched. I could seeCallum making the rounds again: at the Hollywood Canteen, say, springing that fresh, yet oddly familiar, young face on some aging baby mogul who hasn’t seen it for a decade. What a potent impression it would make! And what a hook for the media: this kid who conquered Hollywood at ten and gave it up for the simple joys of teendom in New England returns to the big screen as a grown-up heartthrob. If the movie’s any good at all, he could be a huge star again before the year is out.
    “Are you reachable?” I asked.
    “Sure. I’m at the Chateau Marmont.”
    “Oh. OK.”
    “The switchboard will put you through.”
    “Great.”
    He smiled like a cat in the sun. “Remember when Ray used to live there?” He meant Ray Crawford, the cranky old geezer who played Callum’s grandfather in Mr. Woods .
    “Sure do,” I said. I had never been invited by, but I knew that Ray had a suite at the Marmont. If you remember him in the movie, he looked pretty much the same as that, except that he wore ascots under short-sleeved shirts, instead of cardigans. He died about five years ago without much fanfare. There was a brief mention of it on Entertainment Tonight .
    “I have the balcony next to his,” Callum said.
    “Is this progress?” I joked, since nobody much liked old Ray.
    He laughed. “I like it there, though.”
    I could see Renee heading toward us, so I made a quick excavation in my purse and handed him one of my cards. “This is me,” I said.
    He studied it for a moment. It says Cadence Roth Acts for a Living and gives both my number and Leonard’s office number. “That’s clever,” he said, and stuck it in his shirt pocket. “I forgot Leonard is your agent too.”
    “So does he.”
    He chuckled, but sort of uncomfortably.
    “When you see him, say hi for me,” I said.
    “I will.”
    Then Renee came up and Callum made a move to introduce himself. I stopped him with a yank at his sleeve. “Promise me you won’t scream,” I said to Renee.
    “Huh?”
    Callum looked at me and grinned.
    “Promise me, Renee.”
    She shrugged. “I promise.”
    “This is Callum Duff.”
    As Renee homed in on him, her mouth slackened noticeably and her eyes began to narrow. It’s the look she gets when she’s trying to think of a phone number, or painting snowy peaks with that guy on TV.
    “Thank you,” I said, when a scream failed to materialize. “Callum, this is Renee Blalock, my housemate.”
    Callum sprang to his feet and stuck out his hand. “Hi.”
    Renee echoed him meekly.
    “Renee is a big fan of yours.”
    “Do you totally swear?” Renee asked Callum.
    Since he looked completely baffled, I said: “She doesn’t think it’s you.”
    “Oh…well…”
    “Don’t make him swear,