Maybe the Moon
lovable. I would have blown lunch then and there if the circumstances had been more amenable.
When Mr. Woods was on his feet again, testing his functions, word of his resurrection seemed to spread telepathically through the studio. Office temps and ADs and perky publicity minions begged admission, one by one, to the crowded hallway where the elf strutted his stuff. After a few seconds of experimentation, I could work his controls as if I’d never been away from them—like they always say about riding a bicycle. By squeezing the various bulbs in my hands, I could make him wrinkle his nose or roll his eyes or dimple up charmingly at the sound of their collective “Awww.” I’d almost forgotten how this felt—to be there and yet not be there, to be the living heart of something but not the thing itself. “Isn’t he cute?” they would coo, over and over again, and that blithely inaccurate pronoun hurt just as much as it ever did.
The main thing, of course, was that Jeff was there, watching everything, learning the ins and outs of the suit. When the time came, I knew he’d be able to assist my escape without too manynasty surprises. Just before I climbed into bondage again, he smiled at me slyly and winked, as if to say: “Don’t worry. I’ll have you out of there in no time.”
As we left the studio, I asked him if the scheme seemed more daunting than he’d imagined.
“Not really.”
“Still think it’s the right thing to do?”
“Absolutely.” He turned and looked at me. “You spoken to Callum lately?”
“Just briefly,” I told him. “He called to say he was glad I was doing the tribute. Why?”
“Just wondered.”
“I didn’t tell him you’d be there, if that’s what you mean.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
I asked him what had happened with the GLAAD protest.
He shrugged. “We picketed.”
“We?”
“I went. Big deal. I believe in it.”
“Did Callum see you?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Didn’t that feel weird?” I asked.
And he said: “Not as weird as hiding in that kitchenette.”
My resolve began to weaken on the short ride home, only to be bolstered again by a quick browse through Variety , where I learned that Batman Returns was using little people in penguin suits to augment a flock of regular penguins. Now, there was a job worthy of a serious actor’s commitment. Meanwhile, plans were in the works elsewhere for a film called Leprechaun , a thriller about a little green serial killer who disrupts the peace of an average American household. So much for humanizing us. They might as well have called it Fatal Enchantment . This was all the reminder I needed that drastic measures were in order if I expected to turn my life around.
By the time Renee got home, I’d already made a good start onmy sewing. She kicked off her shoes and sat next to me on the floor, then held up the gown to examine the beginnings of sleeves, letting the bugle beads catch the light. “This is so elegant,” she exclaimed. “I’m glad we picked it.”
I agreed.
“Neil will love it,” she said.
“Neil won’t see it,” I said, “except on TV.”
“He’s not coming?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t tell him what I’m doing.”
“Why not? He loves the way you sing. I betcha he’ll think it’s a neat idea.”
“Yeah…well, it was just too complicated.”
She frowned at me. “Did something happen?”
“No.”
“Something did, Cady. What?”
How is it, I wonder, that a woman who uses “betcha” and “neat” in the same sentence can be so adept sometimes at reading my distress? “His ex came by with his kid,” I explained.
“Oh.”
“The morning I was there.”
Renee’s fingers flew to her mouth. “You were in bed, you mean?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Oh.”
“It was just weird, that’s all. Everyone was so proper and stilted and jolly. Like a really empty episode of The Cosby Show . I felt like such an outlaw. Like I didn’t belong there at all.”
Renee squinted at me in confusion. “Because you’re white?”
“No. Because he was embarrassed. He tried hard not to be, but he was.”
“Embarrassed?”
“Yes.”
“Because you were white?”
“Forget white! Because I’m…me.”
“I really don’t think—”
“Well, you weren’t there, were you?”
“But he took you to Catalina.”
“So?”
“Wasn’t his wife there then?”
“His ex-wife. Yeah. So?”
“Well, he wasn’t embarrassed
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