Maybe it will be nice.
I certainly wouldn’t say that I’m excited about it, but there is something a little bit energizing about the idea of letting go of the past. I’ve found that by mustering up the strength to clean out Mom’s old room, I’ve felt a bit of a rebirth in the apartment. Like it’s no longer in mourning. Like maybe there’s a future ahead, and even if I have no idea what it will look like, it exists. Starting now. With this trip.
Beckett is behind me now. It still hurts, and I still think about it, but when the great love of your life is going to marry someone else, there’s really not much you can do. My therapist has suggested that I do everything I can to move on, and so I am trying. She encouraged me to clean my mom’s room, and I did. She encouraged me to book a trip, and I did. She encouraged me to scatter Mom’s ashes—and here we are. “It’s important to know when a chapter has come to a close,” she’s told me, and I know that despite how I wish it had turned out, the chapter of my life that was me and Beckett is over. Being with him was a dream, but sometimes dreamsjust don’t materialize, and that needs to be okay. He’s a big star, and I am genuinely happy for him.
If she was still alive, my mom would have told me that the whole week with Beckett offered nothing if not hope for my future. Some people believe there’s only one person who can be your soulmate, only one path you can take that will lead to happiness, but my mother was definitely not one of those people. She was an eternal optimist who could find a silver lining around every cloud. She would be the first to tell you that happiness is an inside job. I used to marvel at how she could live the second half of her adult life without a serious partner, and she’d smile and say that I was all the partner she needed. I don’t know how she did it. All I know is that I’m happy she was mine, and I hope one day I’ll be enlightened enough to see the world the way she did.
The only person I know who is as optimistic and bubbly as my mom was is Evan, who, coincidentally, called me the other day. We had a nice talk. It was great to not feel the pressure of thePeoplemagazine thing weighing on me anymore. He didn’t even bring it up. In fact, the reason he called was to discuss my next career steps.
“The thing is, Mel,” he said, “you’re crazy talented. So if you want to keep writing, I can find a way for you to do it. Haters be damned, you know?”
“Really? Even after a plagiarism scandal?”
“It wasn’t plagiarism, and the only people for whom it would really matter if it was would be the Cabaret legal team and me, obvi. But we know you, and Beckett knows you, and nobody who matters thinks you stole anything from him. So you’re fine as far as that’s concerned.”
“But what about the gossip?”
“That’s all it is. Gossip. This will all be old news soon enough. It’ll get bumped by the next big literary scandal. And there’s always drama, so fear not, buttercup.”
“I do love the act of writing. I just feel like the well has run dry at this point. I don’t think I have another romance in me, and certainly not a funny one.”
“What would you want to write?”
I thought about that. “I don’t know. Maybe a mother-daughter story.”
“Well, that would be a pivot, but I’m sure it would be fine. And if Cabaret didn’t want to pick it up, I can find you another publisher who would. We might have to give you a pen name. Start from scratch in rebuilding your brand. But I’m up for it if you are.”
“Maybe, Ev. It’s definitely possible. I think I just need to take the summer and regroup.”
“Of course, absolutely. I just would hate to see you walk away from something you love if you don’thaveto, and in this case, you don’t. There are options.”
“Thank you. This is why you’re my favorite.”
“How’s everything else going?” he asked. “You sound…better.”
“I feel a lot better, to be honest. I’ve been cleaning out my Mom’s bedroom, which has been surprisingly cathartic. And, you won’t believe it…”
“Dish, girl.”
“I’m going back to Aruba.”
“You are? When?”
“This coming Friday.”
“With people? Or alone? What kind of trip is this and why wasn’t I invited?” he laughs.
“It’s just me. I’m actually going there to scatter my mom’s ashes.”
“Oh,” he said, swallowing. “Mel, that’s really sweet. You know, I would have gone if you needed support for something like that.”
“I know. And I love you for it. But I’m good. I think it’s all part of the healing process.”
“So how long will you be away?”
“Just a week.”
“Okay, hang on. I’m writing this down.”
