Her mom was trying so hard, she thought, appreciating the effort. She wished there was some way to make her feel better about the situation. While she didn’t want the big, fancy wedding for herself, she could understand how Cindy wanted it for her.
“What if we got married the day before your wedding?” she said without thinking. “You picked a Sunday afternoon and evening. Aaron and I could get married the day before. It’s just a park wedding, so there’s not much planning. It’s not exactly a double wedding, but it’s close.”
Her mother’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time, happy ones. She rushed around the desk. Shannon stood, and they hugged each other.
“I love that idea, but only if you’re sure.”
“I am.” Aaron would be fine with them doing that, and it would go a long way to mending fences with her mom. “What if I make us each a bouquet that’s exactly the same? I’ll carry mine Saturday, and you’ll carry yours on Sunday.”
“That’s perfect.” Her mother beamed at her. “Thank you so much.”
They hugged again.
“Now, is there any way I can talk you into the princess dress?”
“No, but you can buy me a latte.”
“Done.”
27
The box was delivered by a very cute FedEx guy around eleven in the morning. It was about the size of a ream of paper, and as Victoria stared at it, she wondered who it was from. She hadn’t ordered anything online.
She carefully set it on the kitchen table, then took three steps back, suddenly knowing exactly what it was. Her mother’s notes on her screenplay. Ava had gone old-school, printing it out and marking it up by hand. Probably on every page, she thought grimly. Ripping it apart and telling her how incredibly bad it all was.
“You can’t hurt me,” she murmured, ignoring the sense of dread that had her backing away from the table and the fact that feeling dread meant that her mother could indeed hurt her a lot.
She spent the next two days ignoring the box. She lived her life—such as it was—and continued to rip apart her story and put it back together in a totally new way. She went to the gym, where she carefully worked on gaining back the strength in her left leg. She confirmed that she and her dad would be golfing on Saturday and arranged to hang out with Shannon and Aaron for brunch on Sunday. But Friday, after she got out of the shower and dressed, she found herself standing by the box, accepting it was time.
After girding her loins, aka getting a cup of coffee, she sat at the table and lifted the lid. Inside was a lengthy, typed cover letter.
Victoria,
By now you know your father gave me this work to read. When we were first together, he would ask me to look over projects he was thinking of producing. At the time I didn’t know much about the business, but I took a few classes, and I think I have a basic understanding of story and flow.
Your project is unexpected and visual. The dialogue is funny, insightful and, at times, biting. I laughed, I cried, I wanted to bitch-slap Jake more than once. Margarite is delightful—a heroine we want to root for. You should be proud of what you’ve created here.
I do have a few suggestions which you are free to ignore.
“And I will,” Victoria said, although she kept reading.
I see what you’re doing with the arc of the story. It seems to me something is off in the pacing. I can’t help thinking that the relationship with Jake isn’t the entire story. That there should be something that comes after. Maybe it’s the fact that the ending is so close to the breakup. It’s not the usual upbeat rom-com we’re all used to. Is it possible the breakup is more the midpoint of the story?
“Shit! No. You don’t get to be that insightful. I’ve been working on this for a year, Mom. A year! And you figure out the problem in fifteen seconds? How fair is that?”
She flung the letter onto the table and got up, prepared to stalk out of the room. Only she realized she wanted to know what else her mother had to say. She scooped up the page and held in a groan.
Not that I have any suggestions for what comes next. You’re the creative one, so I’m sure, if you agree with me, you’ll have some ideas.
My other big thought is that Margarite needs to be more fully developed emotionally. You’re telling us what’s happening to her, but we’re not able to feel it. Emotions are messy, and we need to experience them with her.
“Have you been talking to my critique group? I’m amazed you didn’t say I have to bleed on the page.”
Her mother went on to praise how she used the setting as a character and that there were several secondary characters who stood out to her, including Danny.
If you want to talk to me about this, I would welcome that. If not, we’ll pretend this never happened.
All my love. Mom.
